#no but seriously Bullet is so slept on

[macfrog]

secrets cowboy like me chapter fourteen

one day i'll rein my chapters back in. today is not that day. thirteen thousand words of...a little bit of fucking and a lot of fighting. i love you all and i still can't believe the love you continue to show this series. you're all actually insane. i present to you: the penultimate chapter of cowboy.

pairing: dbf!joel miller x fem!reader

summary: the one where...everybody finds out.

warnings: age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), a big argument, a lot of guilt, angry disappointed dad, one mention of alcohol consumption, lil bit of sub!joel, unprotected piv, tiny bit of degradation, tiny bit of praise kink, creampie, cursing, smut, fluff, angst 

word count: 12.9k (dry heaves) 

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You haven’t slept a wink. Not one second.

You and Joel were awake until one in the morning on the phone; you – panicking, spilling words into the receiver, watching different cuts of your dad realizing everything as though projected across your blank ceiling, and Joel – monotone as fucking ever, batting every single theory away.

He doesn’t know a damn thing, he’d said. You didn’t miss the way his words hung over the edge of the sentence, trembling almost.

You scoffed and hissed back down the line. You don’t fucking know that! How can you know that?

You think he just found out about us and thought, Hey, better get some shut-eye before I deal with this? Really, baby?

I think he doesn’t know what he found out. I think he’s probably tryna convince himself that he’s wrong.

So, let him. He’s wrong. We go with that.

Joel knew he wasn’t doing anything to calm you down. Wasn’t offering anything you could seriously take on. You know he wasn’t trying to.

He was as worried as you were – he was just pretending not to be, because what fucking good would it do to have the two of you bouncing off one another with panic?

Still, he stayed on the phone the entire night. When he fell asleep, you lay in bed and tossed everything over in your head like tearing back the pages of a diary. Last night, then Frank’s, then the weekend before that, then the Hillcrest – all the way back to that first ride home. The pissing rain, the boxes of nails rattling in the glove compartment with each sway of the truck. Recalling every word spoken, every move made, every expression pulled and glance stolen and fucking breath taken.

Any sound from beyond your door shot a bullet of adrenaline through your veins, coursing through your body like ice. As if it was your dad, barreling in at 3AM to have it out with you.

You reckon you’d be ready if he did. Wide-eyed, fists clenched, heart hammering.

Joel groans back to life at eight. You hear the ruffling of bedsheets, the crackle down the line as he drags the phone across his mattress and pins it to his ear. You lift your own. Joel and 08:43:36, 37, 38 underneath it on the screen.

His voice drums low and groggy from the speaker. “You are gonna have my phone bill through the damn roof. I’m exhausted, darlin’.”

“I can’t think of anything else. He knows, Joel.”

He sighs. You can see his head falling into his hand, see his thumb rubbing circles into his temple. “Let’s just see what happens, alright? There ain’t any chance you left your phone in the living room ‘n he came across it, thought he’d keep it for you comin’ home?”

“I’ve barely left my room all week. Why would it be down there?”

Joel’s quiet. He just breathes down the line. After a minute, he clears his throat.

“Come over, would ya?”

“Huh?”

“Come over. I wanna see you. I wanna make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine, Joel, I’m –”

“Hey. Don’t make me ask again, alright? C’mon, now. I got some errands to run; you’re coming with me.”

He doesn’t have to say much else to convince you; you’re already pulling your bedsheets back and hanging up. Your hoodie and shorts are still hooked over the foot of your bed. The sun filters through the drapes, edges you nearer the door. Your chest fills with something calling itself bravery, and slowly, quietly – you click the door open.

The hallway is silent. A blushing gold in the morning light. The house is still – eerily still. Your dad’s room door is open, bed made, sheets tucked neatly under the mattress. Like he had time to spend on it. Stuff to mull over as he made it.

The carpet softens your footsteps when you finally move for the stairs. The birds are singing outside. The wallpaper canvases your shadow, a little monster creeping along one step behind you, passing picture frames which dazzle with sunrays and mirror a half-lit reflection back to you. One side you – the other, missing.

You lean over the last step, craning your head and shoulders into the hallway. The clock on the wall opposite ticks to no one. Tick tick tick tick. And aside from it, from its taunting tutting, there are no other signs of life. His jacket hangs from the peg. His boots lying below, laces tangled.

The sun separates into brittle shards through the window, illuminating the way to the kitchen. You’re not fucking prepared to follow it.

Shoulders hunched, like it might make a difference, you step forward and lower your thumb and index finger over your keys, aiming for them like a shaky arcade claw machine. Tick tick tick. They jingle as you hook your fingertip through them. Your nose wrinkles.

“Hey.”

He appears around the corner like an apparition. The keys drop back to the unit with a violent clatter.

“Jesus!”

“Woah, woah.” Your dad holds a palm up, laughing nervously. “Sorry. Where you headed?”

“Uh, J– Sarah’s. Some errands she wants some help with.”

He nods. “Yeah? You don’t want breakfast first?”

You drag your eyes to meet his for the first time. He looks drawn, skin like webbing, as though it’s just draped over his skull. As though you could put your finger through it like parchment, just push straight through. He looks like he’s had about as much sleep as you have.

“No, thanks,” you say, the sunken, sullen sight of him crumbling your voice to dust. Your lips move wordlessly, waiting for another lie from your tongue to offer over. But between the way he looks, weary and forlorn, and the thin veil of truth left between you – nothing materializes.

“Why don’t you – why don’t you hold back a second?” Dad beckons you forward, folding his fingers to his palm. “Got somethin’ I wanna talk to you about.”

“Dad, I really gotta go, I –”

“Just – come on. I’m sure Sarah won’t mind.”

He disappears without waiting for a response. Shifts back into the living room, shadow following him like a cloak across the door. You hear the creak of his chair as he settles down into it, the unsettling squeal of leather and spring.

Your feet are planted to the hall floor. To move in either direction feels like a trap. To follow after him – sit opposite and swallow back what you think you know is coming. All of his suspicions stuck in your throat like a bitter, powdery pill. Or to turn away – leave him in an empty house, nothing but the sound of his own breathing and that tick tick tick affirming your guilt.

No more excuses filter through – none of Joel’s ideas, none of his explanations. You let your shoulders drop and your eyes close. The only image behind them is that six-foot, graying, droning idiot who’s probably sat waiting for you to pull up so he can take you to fucking Trader Joe’s or whatever.

And his shirt, which he’d probably drape over your shoulders before he’s even said hello. And his smile, which would draw you onto your tiptoes, draw your lips to his. And his hands, and his waist, and his pulse in step with yours as you follow him around the quiet store, the Saturday morning air daring you to hook your fingers around two of his every now and then. The longing a gnawing in your chest, burrowing deep beneath the cage of your ribs.

He's not here, though. It’s just you. And if you call him now, if he shows up unannounced – it’s only going to confirm what your dad thinks. Fuck it – what he knows.

So you unstick your sneakers and haul yourself through to the living room.

He’s rocking in the chair when you sink back into the couch. Balls of his feet pushing him back and forth. His fingers to his lips, like keeping the words at bay for now. Like feeling the jagged shape of them through his skin.

You throw a pillow over your legs, shaggy ivory fringe tickling your bare thighs. Your dad doesn’t speak. When you lift your head, his eyes flit from yours down to your restless fingers knitting the tassels of his pillow.

“What is it?” you croak.

“Mind if I ask you somethin’?”

You shrug. “Go for it.”

He waits a beat. A hesitation. Like he doesn’t want to ask the first question. He’s at the edge of a cliff. One more step and he’s plummeting down the rocky side, into a fog of cloud. Nothing will ever be the same. Only – you’ve already pushed him. He’s already falling. He just hasn’t realized it yet.

Maybe he feels the drop in his stomach, right now. Maybe the wind screams in his ears. He finally asks, “When were you gonna tell me about y’all gettin’ into a barfight on Friday night?”

Unexpected. But keep your fucking cool.

Your fingertip whitens, blood halted by the knot of the cushion fringe. You chew on a torn leaf of skin from your lips. “What?”

“You ‘n Joel. When he picked you up. What the hell happened?”

Your eyes slide from his to the patio door behind him, garden lighting up with the sun scaling higher in the sky. You stare there until it burns, until it’s all just a blur of color in your vision, and then pull a half-blinded gaze back in his direction.

You’re frozen, as if he has you at gunpoint. Shoulders tense, eyes wide. Dontshootdontshootdontshoot. “Who –? Who said that?”

“Hank. Was on the phone to ‘im last night. Anna said Joel was squarin’ up to some kid in Frank’s. You wanna tell me exactly what happened?”

“Nothing.” Liar. “Nothing happened. It was just some asshole. Joel was just lookin’ out for me. For us. Me ‘n Anna.”

“She told Hank he knocked the kid out. That Sam had to stop it from gettin’ outta control.”

He stares at you, and there’s no mask on his face. No cover, no disguise. He’s suspicious. And he doesn’t care that you know it. He’s not just asking about the barfight.

“Are you gonna say it or am I, hon?”

“Say what?”

Your last thread of insane hope that he’s innocently wondering about Frank’s is snapped in two by the words that tear out of his mouth, so quick they rip into your skin like shards of glass.

“What the hell’s goin’ on between you two?”

Your body suddenly drops further into the couch, the weight of your blood freezing to ice in your veins. Your joints seize, your jaw locks. Air passes across your open lips with no intention of carrying words back out the way it came. You forget any ability you had previously to come up with excuses, to cover up, to lie. Hell, you’re not sure you’d remember your own fucking name if he asked that next.

You say nothing. And he cocks his head, drums his fingers on the arm of his chair.

Say something.

“Nothing.”

Say something more convincing.

“Nothing?” you repeat, a shrill pitch in your voice like it’s a question. Like he’s dumb for even thinking there might be something weird going on. Like he’s the idiot.

The clock in the hall ticks to itself, amused. Fifteen little snaps. Each one sounds like a plate of glass beneath your feet, cracking a little more, a little deeper, a little wider. The abyss opening its wide, dark jaws beneath you.

Your dad’s expression doesn’t change. He crosses his arms, head leaning back a little. He almost looks sad. Almost looks like he might give in. Send you on your way, on your errands with Sarah.

But something recharges him, something must flicker behind his eyes, because he sits forward again and watches your reaction intently as he says –

“Then explain the text messages you been sendin’ each other.”

Another blow hits your stomach, rippling waves of white heat through you. You feel hot, a scorching panic right beneath the surface of your skin so hot that it mistakes itself for ice cold. A panic which radiates from your heart, pulsating through your entire body, every limb beginning to shudder involuntarily. Your silence is answer enough.

He sighs. Sits forward with his elbows on his knees. “I knew y’all were close, knew you cared about each other. You sure always talked to ‘im more ‘n you ever talked to me, even before you went off to college. But I’ve been noticing things lately…Something’s different. Something’s changed.”

Your eyes trace his form as he talks. It’s fucking dizzying. He’s animated, like a character from some eighties cop show who finally solved the mystery. He knows. He knows everything. Your jaw won’t move to answer.

“Seeing you two together – talking, laughing. The way you look at each other these days. ‘n you’re always near each other, ain’t you? Always hoverin’. It ain’t anything like before. That day the three of us went to Costco, that – I –” His anger seems to boil over, cascading from his lips in an angry burst of hot breath. “I felt like a spare tire in the back of the truck that day.”

“We’re…We’re just…f-friends…I don’t –”

He holds a finger up. Doesn’t want to hear it. Not until his speech is done. The sun moves behind a cloud; the living room suddenly drains of light. “That day you said you were spending the night at Anna’s. Said you were havin’ a pool day, right?”

“Right,” you whisper, eyes closing over. They feel heavy. Tired and teary.

“Right. Except,” he brings his finger down, aims it straight at you, “Hank says you weren’t never there. Anna was at Sal’s all day Sunday.”

Fuck.

“Dad…”

You’re pleading with him now. Enough, I’ve heard enough. I know you know. As if you might still be able to stop the train, dig your heels in and hold on tight to derail it. Derail his thoughts. Salvage the situation, string it back together with shame and atonement.

But he doesn’t listen. He doesn’t even hear you.

“’n that’s when I got to thinkin’ – last Monday, at Joel’s. I went over to fix his sink – you remember I told you about his sink?” He doesn’t wait for a response. “I went over there, and he’s cookin’ this great big breakfast – pancakes, all of it – and there ain’t no one else in his house. Just him. Sarah was in Nashville, you remember?”

You take a deep breath. This is it. The ship’s beginning to disappear beneath the black waves.

“I thought maybe he had someone over, maybe expectin’ that girl from the plant hire…Anyway,” he bats his hand, bats the hopeful glint in Lois’s eye from his mind, “I’m walking downstairs, on my way out, and I notice somethin’ on the floor by the door.”

His chair squeaks timidly as he moves, his right arm lowering, scooping for something you can’t see yet. But when he shakily lifts it, your eyes fall to your knees. It hangs before you, apologetic and ashamed.

Joel was right. He knew it. You palmed him off. You told him your dad wouldn’t – couldn’t – put two and two together. And here he is, sat feet from you, holding the final piece to the puzzle in a quivering fist. Proof that, when he was in the house that day, you were only feet from him. Wrapped in his best friend’s shirt, dripping wet from his shower.

“This bag,” he hisses, and the tears finally drop onto your cheeks. They scurry to your chin, gathering and throwing themselves to your chest. Your shoulders drop, your eyes still low. You can’t look at him.

He speaks slowly. Speaks through his teeth. Every word like its own poisonous jab.

“Now you tell me: what in God’s name is your bag doin’ in Joel Miller’s hallway, at ten in the mornin’, when you’re supposed to be at Anna’s?”

Your fingers touch your forehead, a burning pain beginning to sting through your skull. You can feel your pulse in your temples. You’ve never wanted Joel to be stood in front of you so badly in all your life; just to deflect some of the interrogation off of you, just to give you breathing space. Just to protect you from the onslaught of questioning from your dad.

“No,” he mutters, shaking his head. The bag hits the carpet with a thud. “No, there ain’t no way. You were at Anna’s, right? You ain’t with Joel Miller, no way. I’m thinkin’, Please, God, don’t let that have been my daughter’s bag that day. But I’m right, ain’t I? You were there, weren’t you?”

You blink rapidly. The tears multiply quicker. The room is glossed in a protective film of salt and adrenaline. Give me something to say back. Give me something to say back.

“Where were you, hon? Musta been hidin’ somewhere, right?”

Give me something please think of something please come over please walk through that door please tell me what to say.

And then it comes to you. You blink the mist from your eyes. He said…he knew about texts you’d been sending Joel. How did he…?

“How did you know about the texts?”

“Pardon me?”

You straighten up and look him dead in the eye. Your voice feels hoarse. It sounds nothing like you. “How – did you know – about – the texts?”

“That’s your concern right now?”

“How – did you know?”

He begins to sputter, like the heat turned up under a pan on the hob. “Look, hon, you had me worried sick. Disappearin’ and I got no clue where you are. Always having an excuse to go off somewhere alone, no explanation. Don’t even get me started on those marks on your neck.”

Your hand immediately clamps around your throat, hot skin stained pink hissing into your palm. Joel’s teeth on you last night. His words cushioning the sharp bite. I love you. The heat hurts, now, when it felt so comforting just a few hours ago. It burns. It throbs. It feels like shame.

Your dad’s voice brings you back into the room.

“There’s another thing – last night,” he flings a laugh to you, “you were so quiet. So damn quiet. Didn’t say a word the entire time, and then I leave for all of ten minutes, and suddenly the two of you are headin’ over to his for – what was it? UCLA pamphlets?”

There’s a break between his words, a gap which makes you think that he wants you to answer. Like he’s giving you a chance, extending his arm. But he fills the space with a jeering laugh, and keeps talking.

“Where are they, huh? These pamphlets? ‘s why you were at Joel’s, right? Go on, go get ‘em. Show them to me.”

Your face solidifies. Lips tremble. There’s a scowl pulling your brows together. You’ve no right for it to be there. “Stop it,” you seethe. “Tell me what you did.”

“He’s the only one. The only one who could get you to talk. I had to check, kiddo. I had to know.”

Your stare doesn’t let up. Your lips bolt shut, refusing to say another word until he confesses. Which he does. Almost breezily.

“I looked through your phone. While you were gone. I – I went upstairs, ‘n I took it.”

He says it casually, as though he’s simply checked the newspaper. As though he’s just relaying the columns to you. Someone’s had a baby. Someone else won three grand on a scratch card. By the way, I know you’ve been messing around with Joel.

So it takes a minute for what he’s said to hit you. But when it does, the wave crashes over your shoulders so violently that it throws you to your feet, tasseled pillow whipped to the other side of the couch.

There are tears searing across your eyes. A twisted grimace of a smile on your face, a laugh breaking roughly from your throat. Some crazed, disbelieving, ugly little laugh.

“You – you checked my…my fuckin’ phone. You – you fucking –”

His head jerks back, offended. “Hey, now, listen to me –”

“I’m not listenin’ to another word! Am I twelve?”

You stalk over to the kitchen. The rattle of your dad’s chair tells you he follows.

“Well – you tell me, hon, ‘cause right now, you’re making a lot of real stupid decisions.”

That same ugly laugh echoes around the house. You grip onto the kitchen island. The room starts to wheel.

“Who the hell are you to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do?” you pant, eyes tight shut. Your thumbs begin to slip, sweat gliding between your skin and the counter.

“I’m your father! I’m lookin’ out for you, damnit! You think I wanna be havin’ this conversation with you right now?”

The granite countertop blurs in and out of focus when you open your eyes. You hook onto it, using it to haul yourself around the island until there’s distance between your wobbly figure and his. And you remember one week ago, when the same counter separated you and Joel, and you think of Joel, and think of his fingers around your wrist, and his fist against Knox’s jaw, and his teeth in your neck.

“Look,” your dad’s voice floats somewhere over the image of Joel’s eyes, “let’s just – let’s calm down. You ‘n me – we’re gonna talk this out. We’re gonna have a calm, mature discussion about all of this. You’re gonna tell me exactly what’s been goin’ on, and then I’m gonna head over to Joel’s – alone – and talk to him.”

But his voice doesn’t sound calm. There’s a tremble to it – a tremor as fragile as glass, as thin as ice. It’s crackling as he speaks. He can hardly keep a hold on it himself.

If he goes over to Joel’s – this you know – there ain’t anything calm or mature that will come of it. Suddenly the images in your head warp, and it’s your fingers around Joel’s wrist, someone else’s fist against his cheek, someone else’s teeth and the venom spat between them.

“Dad,” you pant, “it’s over. He ended it. It’s been done for, like, two weeks now. It was nothing.”

“Oh, nothing, was it?” He steps closer. You retreat. Edge further around the counter, further from him. His head tilts, eyebrows curl. He looks like a vulture, eyeing its prey. “Then what were the two of you up to last night?”

“We – we went for ice cream, that’s all. He wanted to make sure I was alright.”

He’s not convinced. And he shouldn’t be, either. He coughs a laugh. “For three hours? You were eatin’ ice cream for three Goddamn hours?” His cheeks wobble as he shakes his head. Then, in a softer voice, like he’s arming himself with a chisel to prick at the weakest parts of the sculpture, “What’d he do to you, girl?”

The marble cracks and snaps wide open. Anger floods out in hot waves. Any composure you’d managed to scrape together flushes clean out of your body.

“Nothing I didn’t want him to fuckin’ do. Stop treating me like I’m some kid who’s – who’s been tricked, or something. I’m twenty-three, Dad, I’m an adult.”

His silence sends another misdirected shot of panic through you.

“I was in on it just as much as he was,” you weep, fingers searching for a scratch of beard or kiss of flannel.

Your dad scoffs then, hands slapping against his thighs, and turns away. “There ain’t no gettin’ through to you,” he announces to the timid living room.

Still bracing yourself against the island, you take the break in his tirade to catch your breath. The only thought running through your head, losing velocity with each circuit, is Joel walking through that door. His face when he notices you with your flushed cheeks and wide eyes. His hands reaching for yours, through all the lies and hurt. Your dad, stood opposite, tight as an arrow and ready to fucking fly for him. Fists balled, teeth bared.

“He doesn’t even know,” you realize, staring at the glow on the floor cast by the front door. “You haven’t told him you know, have you?”

“’course I ain’t told him. I wanted to talk to you first. Not that it’s gotten us anywhere, huh?”

“I’m gonna text him.”

“Hon, don’t you d–”

“I am not having this conversation on my own. There are two people involved here.”

You pull your phone from your pocket and scrawl some messy message to Joel. Three messy messages. Something like he knows everything, can you come over? I need you. Some needy, dramatic, helpless message.

The typing bubble appears for a fraction of a second. So fleeting that you almost miss it through your tears, before it drops back to nothing. He doesn’t reply.

Doesn’t pick up, either, when you call him. Three times in a row. Three missed calls; three Hey, it’s Joel, sorry I missed yous.

The phone rattles off the counter when you drop it, your head falling into your hands. Your dad wanders back over to his armchair and collapses into it with a sigh, his fingers massaging his temples. The two of you mirrored, the same storm circling between you, only ice in his veins and fire in yours.

Fear keeps your feet planted to the kitchen floor; adrenaline alone keeps you upright. Your fingers push hard into your forehead, an ache sat directly behind that dizzies you. Blood thudding its fists against your eyes, screaming in your ears.

How the fuck did this happen? It feels ridiculous to ask, but it’s all you got. When did the two of you get so lazy? Start forgetting to cover your tracks? Or – maybe worse – stop caring enough to even try?

Of course, saying you were with Anna was a dumb fucking move. Her dad is one of your dad’s buddies. One of Joel’s, too. That was always going to fuck it all up. And you were too caught up, too hellbent on seeing Joel, too fucking horny to stop for five seconds and keep your damn story straight.

There’s nothing to say, nothing that might fix this. There’s no winding your way out of it. The trap has you by the throat. Your jaw aches from trying to free yourself.

Your dad sways side to side in his chair, staring silently at the wall ahead of him. Your face burns with shame, with anger, with embarrassment. Your heart stings from the hurt, from wanting Joel here, from his ignoring your pleas for help. And, most annoying of all – from letting your dad down.

It doesn’t matter what you tell yourself. How you spin it. Sure, you’re twenty-three. You can make your own decisions. That much is fucking clear now. Doesn’t mean they’re always good. Even when they make you laugh until your cheeks hurt, make your stomach flip with excitement, make you scream from pleasure.

Make your heart do things you’ve never felt it do before. Things you never knew that it could do.

You let your dad down. He can barely look at you for it. You know damn well that it was worth every second, and yet, right now, nothing but thick, awkward, unbreathable air between the two of you – it feels like it should never have happened.

You’re bent over the counter, head resting on your folded arms, breathing still staggered – when you hear it. The squeal of brakes outside. An engine cutting. A door slamming.

Two knocks on the door, and Joel pushes it open. You’re already in the hallway, watching his heavy head and loose shirt cross the threshold.

He looks up and your eyes meet. His hair’s a mess, he’s in the same tee from last night. He’s gotten straight out of bed and into his truck, and he’s braced, like he doesn’t know what’s coming. Which direction to expect the first punch from.

Your knees weaken at the sight of him. The safe haven of his arms, the home of his chest. The beating pulse behind it whose language you’ve become fluent in. Even now, when everything’s fallen apart, his being here washes relief over you like cool water dousing an inferno. Your body relaxes, your breathing quietens.

Joel nods towards you. You okay?

You shake your head lightly, and he flicks his fingers. You’re in his arms before your brain tells your limbs to move.

“’s okay,” he breathes, lips lined with your ear. His chest is soft, warm; you take fistfuls of his shirt. He strokes your hair, mumbling, “Told you we’ll be alright, yeah? It’s goin’ to be alright.”

You weep into him, lips dripping with salty tears. They part to reply, when a low growl rips between your bodies. Joel loosens his grip and you step back, turning around to face the ghost of your father at the end of the hall.

“Get the hell away from him.”

He advances, takes a few steps forward. You meet him halfway, gripping onto his shirt, planting yourself firmly between him and Joel.

“Woah, woah,” you say, pushing on his small chest, “let’s all just calm down. Dad.”

He’s smaller, scrawnier, older, and weaker than Joel. He’s never going to lift a fucking hand to him. Not if he wants to keep it intact. He wouldn’t square up to a fly, never mind an actual worthy opponent – but your gut tells you to make damn sure he doesn’t even try.

“Get out of the way, hon.”

“No. No way. And let you –? No.”

He’s not even looking at you. You’re nothing but an obstacle. He’s staring a few feet behind.

“Baby,” Joel says, voice weary and surrendered. “It’s alright, now. C’mon, outta the way.”

“Baby?” your dad seethes. “You just call my daughter baby?”

“Called me it as long as he’s known me, Dad.”

“’s different now,” he spits. “What the f–? I mean, what the fuck, Joel? What were you even thinkin’? Putting your Goddamn hands on my daughter?”

You don’t usually hear your dad curse. All through growing up, even when you left home – you could count on one hand the number of times you’ve heard it. It sends a bolt of fear through you as if you’re five years old again, and he can’t do much worse than say bad words in front of you.

You don’t usually see your dad do any of this stuff. Raise his voice, ball his fists. Lean forward, feet planted on the ground, like daring Joel to make the first move. Joel – his best friend. The guy he was supposed to be able to trust more than anyone in the world.

Angry. Furious. And you think: if there were a time he had a right to feel this way, to act like this and throw threats around as though they’re light as air, if ever there were a moment – this would be it. A betrayal. A secret this big.

Joel takes a step forward. He doesn’t seem scared. More – placating. Letting the tantrum run its course. He holds his hands out. “Let’s just – let’s just talk.”

“Talk,” your dad repeats, spitting the word like it’s rotten in his mouth. “You wanna talk? Let’s talk. What the hell have you been doin’ to her? Hm?”

Joel shakes his head, shoulders lifting. “I ain’t been doin’ nothin’ to her. That’s not what this is.”

“Hell,” your dad scoffs, “not what it is. Why don’t you explain to me exactly what it is, then, Joel? If it ain’t you takin’ advantage of a young girl? Takin’ advantage of my kid?”

Your head whips back to face Joel, hand lifting in a bracing motion. He sees it – sees the way your head shakes, imperceptible to your dad. Please don’t tell him. Not yet.

It’s bad enough that he knows you’ve been messing around. It hurts enough that he knows you’ve been lying for the entire summer. Telling him the full story – the conversation in the truck, the words exchanged over ice cream and the quiet tick of traffic lights across the street – would only hurt more. Would only sharpen his anger. He’d ask more questions; he’d drive his dagger deeper.

Joel pleads with you. His eyes do his bargaining. You don’t relent. Please.

“You know what I keep thinkin’ about,” your dad interrupts, “you know what’s runnin’ through my mind? That damn garden party. Those cupcakes. You puttin’ your thumb on her lip. I should’ve known the second you touched her what was happening. You arrogant, shameless son of a bitch, Joel, you got no idea what you –”

“Dad. Enough.”

Sure, you’re trying to calm him down, palms outstretched and motioning like he’s a wild horse, rearing frantically and threatening to crush you. But it also stings to hear him talking about Joel like that. Talking to him like that.

The same Joel he’d sling an arm around, knocking their beers together when the Rangers won. The same Joel you know he’d spent hours sat out back with, talking into the night and sharing stories and secrets with the stars.

The same Joel who covered your legs with his jacket last night, who held you when you were hurting, who reminded you what it was like to feel your heart again, beating rapidly in your chest.

He’s not talking about the same Joel. Not the Joel you know. Yours.

He’s still rambling. “…’n all this time, you pair have been closer ‘n you were lettin’ on.”

“You don’t understand,” you plead, “you don’t know him like I do.”

Your dad scoffs, twisted smirk on his face. “Oh, I know ‘im. I’ve known him a hell of a lot longer and a hell of a lot better ‘n you have, hon. Known him since he was fifteen, askin’ me ‘n my buddies to buy ‘im a case of beer from the liquor store. His little brother in ‘n outta jail like God only knows what. I know exactly what he’s like.”

“What he’s like?” you huff, exasperated. You spin on your heel, arms coming down on your sides with a slap. “Joel, help me.”

“Don’t you dare look at ‘im! Listen, kiddo, I know him. Know what he’s like at Frank’s, takin’ women home left ‘n right, then forgetting their damn names. Know he sure as hell can’t remember that schoolteacher’s name, can you, Joel? You remember her?”

“Quit it,” you tell him over your shoulder, still facing Joel.

Your dad laughs from behind you. It turns your stomach. “I’ll bet he never told you about that one, did he? That’d turn you off ‘im in a heartbeat, wouldn’t it?”

“Nah, he told me about Jess.”

Your dad’s voice cuts. Joel’s head finally lifts, his eyes ungluing from the floor to look at you.

You shrug back. “I figured it out. Sister’s name is Mia – she’s a year younger ‘n me.”

You swear he almost fucking smiles. Almost. It’s funny, or at least, it would be if you weren’t both in the middle of tearing your entire dynamic apart. Any other time, he’d nudge you, or tousle your hair, and say you were too clever for him, or something about being old again.

When you turn back to face your dad, he looks like he’s run out of words. So, he repeats ones he’s already said.

“I…Well, I know him, honey. And he ain’t someone you oughta be with.”

“How’d you figure that?”

He sighs. “I just told you my reasons.”

“’cause he wanted beer when he was a kid and he’s slept with people before? ‘cause Tommy gets himself into trouble – trouble that Joel then gets him out of?”

“No, I –”

“You don’t know a damn thing about any of this. You won’t listen to me. If you’d hear me out – hear us out, then you’d –”

“Don’t you dare tell me I’d change my damn mind. Don’t – you – dare.” Your dad’s voice is quiet and slow. Dangerous. Laced with something you’ve never heard in it before. It’s not worth finding out what.

Your head shakes, knee jerking with nerves. “I don’t…I don’t know what else to say.”

The fire flickers, loses light for a second. His voice softens. “Honey…This –” he waggles his finger between your body and Joel’s, “this thing y’all have been…It ain’t right. It is not right, what y’all have been doin’. You are far too young for him. He should know better, and the fact that he doesn’t – well.”

Your brows tighten, eyes pinching around painful tears. “I know why you’re mad. I get it. I’m sorry. But I can’t –” You sigh. “You are suffocatin’ me, living here.”

His façade drops instantly. He pushes his fingers into his eyes, groaning. “Hon, you’re not hearin’ me.”

“I hear you loud and clear, I –”

He cuts you off, throwing his arms up into the air with another loud yell. The words melt into one long drone, a mountainous ramble which peaks and falls in pitch; one minute low and angry and the next high and frantic.

You sigh, shoving by him for the living room. Joel reaches for your hand, your fingers brushing against his.

“Baby,” he says.

“Ah!” Your dad blocks his advance, shaky finger held to his chest. “You dare, son.”

You’re swipe the bag from the floor by your dad’s chair, your change of clothes still in a crumpled heap at the bottom. Slinging it over your shoulder, you whip past your father and lock your hand with Joel’s.

“Hey,” Joel says, slowing you down. “Darlin’, where are you –?”

“I wanna leave.”

“Huh?” he asks, brows raised.

“I want to go,” you whisper.

He glances over to your dad, dumbfounded by the stairs. “Where d’you wanna go?”

Your shoulders roll. Anywhere. Just take me away.

He doesn’t hesitate; barely thinks it over. He tightens his grip on your hand and pulls you toward him. Your feet stumble over the carpet.

“Where in the hell –?” Your dad’s snarling picks up again, his final chance. “I don’t think so –”

Joel’s backing up towards the front door, led by the pull of your hand. “Emotions are pretty high,” he announces, “why don’t we have this conversation once everybody’s calmed down?”

“Joel, if you take her, I’ll–”

“I ain’t takin’ her anywhere. She’s an adult.”

Liar. His hand wouldn’t let go of yours if you tried to pry it from his clutches.

“I’m leavin’,” he says, “she’s just coming with me.”

Your dad barks your name, and you freeze. Joel stops, too, allows you the time to turn. Like a deer in the headlights.

“I’m going, Dad,” you shakily tell him.

“I swear to God,” he says, “if y’all walk outta that door…”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I didn’t mean for any of this.”

He shakes his head. “Stay, hon. Let’s talk.”

“You’re not talkin’, though. All you wanna do is argue. I wanna go with Joel.”

“You ain’t goin’ nowhere with no one! ‘specially not him!”

You shrug, give your head a solemn shake. “Stop me.”

Joel hears the exhaustion in your voice, the scratch of your throat. The way the words melt into one another. He tugs on your hand, leading you through the front door. Your dad doesn’t speak again, and you don’t turn back to check on him.

The neighborhood is silent in the early morning. Yards empty, curtains still closed. No one, not even the sun, tucked behind a thin veil of cloud, sees when you pile into the front seat of Joel’s truck.

“Baby,” he says, pulling your seatbelt over your body.

Your eyes fix on the asphalt ahead. “Just drive.”

“Hey. Look at me.”

When you turn to him, he takes your jaw in both hands. “I love you,” he says.

“Still?” you squeak, eyes heavy with sleeplessness and tears.

“More.”

“This is fucking insane, Joel.”

He nods. “Yeah. ‘n you’re worth all of it.”

“Hey,” Sarah calls when the two of you spill in through the front door. She’s on the couch, Switch console in hand. “What’s up?”

“We have a – a lodger, for the next…little while,” Joel grumbles, tossing his keys onto the sideboard. He kicks off his boots and slides them to the wall, straightens up and looks to you.

You follow suit wordlessly, slipping out of your sneakers. Joel places them by his.

“Cool,” Sarah says, standing up. “How come?”

“Just – dad trouble,” you whisper, deflated. She’s wandering around the couch. A defeated sound rings from the console hanging from her thumb.

Her head tilts. “I…I got plenty room for you,” she flashes you a warm grin, “it can be like a big-ass sleepover.”

You return her smile, a slow, grateful breath filling your lungs. Joel’s arm wraps over your shoulder as your mouth opens to answer.

“No, uh…” He clears his throat. “She’ll be in my room. With me.”

Sarah’s expression is blank. She blinks between the two of you, arms limp either side of her hips. Your eyes flit from Joel to her and back again, wide, waiting. Waiting for someone to move, or speak, or yell.

Joel looks indifferent. Unbothered. As if he just told her it’s sunny outside.

She takes a step forward, and by instinct, you draw back. “Sarah…” you mutter, and she swings around the newel post. She dodges your outstretched hand, whether accidental or deliberate – you’re not sure.

“No, it’s…Okay. Yeah. I’ll – I gotta…Yeah.”

You watch as she climbs the stairs backwards, still looking from your pleading face to her dad’s stoic. She shrugs, wiggles the Switch and mumbles something about it needing charged, before she’s spinning and taking the last few steps two at a time.

When her bedroom door closes, you slump back. Joel doesn’t let go of your shoulder, catching you and pulling you into his chest.

“Fuck,” you whisper, lips pressed against his tee. He smells like pine, like mint, like you.

“’s okay,” he says into your hair, hand curving the shape of your skull. “She’ll come around. You know Sarah.”

You turn, ear against his chest, listening for his heartbeat. It doesn’t tell you anything new. You miss the days you used to listen for secret messages in the soft rhythm.

Joel’s chin rests on the crown of your head. “I’m sorry, baby,” he says. “None of this is your fault, you hear? None of it.”

“Now you’re just lyin’ to me. You know that ain’t true.”

A hum rumbles against your cheek like the earth readjusting, rearranging beneath your feet. You lift your head, loosen your grip around his waist.

“You need sleep,” he tells you, thumb swiping gently beneath your heavy eyes.

You don’t protest.

Joel takes your hand, leads you mutely upstairs and into his room. His bed’s not made. The shades aren’t even open. He lifts the sea of sheets, tosses them twice in the air and then pulls the corner back, letting you sit on the edge of the mattress.

He undresses you carefully, like your limbs might crack and burst at the slightest touch. He replaces your hoodie with a fresh tee of his own, one that still smells like the world before its end, and you lay back into bed slowly.

It’s shaped like you – the divot in the mattress. You slot back into it like you never left. The curl of your back and the fold of your knees. You’ve left little pieces of evidence all over the place – all over Joel.

He runs a delicate hand across your head, the repetitive movement lulling you off to sleep. Pushing the boat out.

“You need anythin’?” he asks.

You shake your head, arms wrapping tight underneath your pillow. “I’m good,” you whisper, and the waves pull you under.

His bedside lamp is on when you stir, the left half of the room a glowing honey color. His bare leg slotted between yours, your hands intertwined on his chest. His finger drifts back and forth against your palm, the strokes matching your breathing.

You’re still tired, eyes still rolling beneath heavy lids, but when some commentator screams at the game playing on the TV screen, you snap awake.

Joel curses under his breath, begins tearing the bed apart for the remote – but by the time he turns the volume down, your head is propped against his pillow, knuckles rubbing your eyes.

“Sorry, baby,” he sighs, kissing your forehead as he sits on the edge of the bed.

“’s okay.” You flash him a lazy smile. “What time is it?”

“Almost five thirty.”

“Damn,” you mutter. “Slept all fucking day.”

“You needed it,” he says, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “You want some dinner? Or – breakfast?”

You nod. “Sounds good.”

He disappears downstairs. The echoing of pots and pans and the hum of the extraction fan follow in his wake. You groan, stretching out like a starfish across the messy bed, forgetting for just a moment why you’re here, and what’s happened, and how different everything is.

It feels the same, even after eight hours sleep. Same guilt, and shame. Same anger and resentment towards your dad. Same punch to your gut anytime you picture his face, the wrinkled frown. The trembling fist holding your bag in midair.

The blow is soothed only by the swelling of warmth across your chest, looking around the room. The safety you feel here, as though you’re cut off from the rest of the world. Your father on pause the second you left the house; Joel’s room and his bed giving you time to catch your breath and recalibrate.

You’re not thinking about when you’ll have to go back home. You’re just not.

You knot your shorts back around your waist, take one huge swig of the water Joel left for you, and open his bedroom door, your head throbbing with each movement.

There’s a figure at the end of the hall, frozen in space like a phantom.

“Morning,” she says. Her hair is tied back, oversized hoodie over her shoulders.

“Hi.”

“You sleep good?”

“Must’ve. Missed half the day.”

Sarah smiles.

“Are you gonna kill me?”

“Hm,” her head tips back and forth, “not today. Don’t have the energy. Watch your back tomorrow, though.”

For the first time in almost twenty-four hours, a genuine laugh pushes its way past your lips. The knot in your stomach loosens, even if only a little.

“You wanna come help with dinner?” she asks, nodding to the stairs.

You smile. “Please.”

The three of you settle on pasta with some tomato sauce from a jar mixed through. You sit opposite Sarah as Joel sets the plates down, sliding into the seat next to yours with a gentle squeeze on your knee under the table.

The three of you talk. About nothing in particular – college, Rita and her cross stitch, some client of Joel’s whose wife got caught having an affair – but it soothes the ache in your heart. It feels like a blanket over your shoulders, a spot by the fire, a voice in your ear promising you that things are still okay. That they can still be this way: light, alive. The earth is still moving, the stars are still pinned up in the sky. Tomorrow will always come, and the day after that.

Sarah asks about LA. You tell her you didn’t know she knew. She grins and says, “Well, now that I do – you better put an application in.”

You hum around the fork between you lips. “Maybe.”

“Come on. The two of us out there together? For six whole months? You gotta do it. Tell me you don’t wanna do it. Are you gonna do it?”

Joel casts her a glower, his stony expression pushing her back in her chair.

Your eyes shift from hers over to his. He runs a slice of garlic bread around the curve of his plate, coating it in sauce, before he notices you staring. His face breaks into a tiny smirk.

“I don’t know,” you decide, turning back to Sarah. “I still gotta think it through.”

She nods earnestly. “Yeah, you should sleep on it. And then, first thing tomorrow, we’re doing it.”

The two of you let her have the final say, falling quiet until some new conversation is shifted onto the table, and then another, and then another. When you’re done eating, Sarah takes your hand and drags you back upstairs.

Sarah Miller’s bedroom has been baby pink for as long as you can remember. Joel painted it one summer while she was at camp, eliciting help from your dad to shift all the furniture. As she grew up, she covered the walls in posters, changed the sheets, changed the curtains, strung fairy lights to distract from what she saw as a kiddish color.

But she never asked to change it. Always wanted the same blushing pink her dad had picked out when she was ten – even if secretly.

Her blinds are tilted, golden light from the slowly lowering sun filtering through onto her carpet, stained with tiny dabs of nail polish. She throws herself down onto the bed, her curls igniting brown in the summer light, and you slowly sink down beside her.

“Nice Zayn poster,” you note, pointing to the straight-browed, dark-haired figure painted in a moody grayscale on her ceiling. “Interesting placement.”

“Was so I could dream about him every night.”

“You didn’t wanna take him to California?”

“Didn’t have to,” Sarah smiles, tapping her temple, “he’s all up here, baby.”

You snort. Your eyes flutter closed; hands clasped on your stomach. She sighs contentedly by your side, listening to the chatter of birds out front.

“I miss this,” she says eventually, her voice smooth and soothing. She elbows you lightly.

“Me too,” you reply. And then, with a deep breath: “Sarah…are you okay?”

When she turns back, the sunlight catches in her eyes. They twinkle, like she’s some doe-eyed Disney character. Someone who might be able to wiggle her fingers and make the last day disappear.

“Am I okay?”

“Yeah. With…everything.”

She shrugs, mumbles an I dunno. “What can I do about it? It’s weird, but…it’s none of my business. I guess…I guess if y’all are happy, then – you know. I’m gone half the time, anyways.”

“It is your business, too, though,” you tell her. “I don’t wanna make you feel weird.”

“I think you got bigger things to worry about right now. Sounds like your dad’s pretty mad.”

You sigh, looking back up to the boyband poster. “Yeah. He’s pretty mad.”

“My dad told me what happened. Well, parts. I can kinda guess the rest. Can’t really blame him, I guess.”

You shrug. “Guess not, but then…I am twenty-three, y’know? I’m not a kid. I can make my own mind up.”

She’s still staring at you, but you don’t return her glance. Something tells you that you already know what it says. Still, she verbalizes it.

“Would you be okay if I slept with your dad?”

That is so not what I thought you were gonna fuckin’ say.

You shoot her a look. “What?”

“’m askin’. Would you be okay with it, if I –”

You lift your hand to shut her up. “That is…so totally different.”

“How is that different?” she scoffs.

“Because…because…my dad’s not hot.”

Sarah gags.

“And – and also you’re not friends with him. It’s just different, alright?”

“You were friends with my dad?”

You’re laughing with her now. You can hear how pathetic your justification sounds. “Kinda, yeah. I was close to ‘im.”

“Yeah, that much is obvious, now, babe.”

You smack her arm and she giggles.

“I think he’ll come around. Your dad.”

“I don’t. Not ever.”

“Why wouldn’t he? His best friend would become his son-in-law, I would become his granddaughter-in-law –” She gasps and props herself up on her elbow, staring you down. “Does this make you, like, my stepmom?”

You spit out a laugh, and Sarah throws her head back against her pillow, clutching her belly.

“You’re my fuckin’ mom, dude!”

“Don’t you fucking dare!” you reply, covering your face with your hands. “Aw, fuck,” you breathe, giggling.

You settle back into the bed, your heads leaning against one another as you stare up at Zayn and his audience of glow-in-the-dark stars. Sarah hums something softly to herself, her ankle rocking, her fingers tapping.

The two of you were raised together. Sisters, when neither of you knew what that word really meant. You figure she’s as close as you could find – someone who reflects all of your favorite parts of yourself and who calls out the uglier ones without hesitation. Someone who comforts you with a punch to the arm, a mocking quip about your hair or the something in your teeth. A safe little secret keeper, for all of your wildest dreams and biggest fears.

“I guess this is all why you were so down in the dumps last night, right? Your dad knew then?”

You shake your head. “Not at that point. He found out after we all left. Realized it all on his own. It’s all just…so fucking stupid…”

She sighs. “My dad – if he…if he makes you happy, then I don’t even know. As long as I don’t have to see it – we’re cool.”

One cinderblock of weight lifts from your chest, allowing a rugged breath to escape. “Wish my dad would take a leaf outta your book,” you mumble.

“He’s just mad,” Sarah says. “He’s just mad, and he’ll eventually calm down.”

“Doesn’t matter even if he does calm down,” you reply. “My dad has more of a…restrictive parenting approach.”

“Can you really parent a twenty-three-year-old?”

“He finds a way to try.”

She scoffs, saying, “I get it. My dad’s more, try it ‘n see. Your dad is, like, try it ‘n see…what your punishment is.”

You both erupt into laughter, and Sarah reaches for the TV remote.

“Exactly,” you tell her, tugging on the hem of Joel’s shirt. “Although, if your dad found out you were with my dad, I don’t think he’d be cool with it, either.”

“Yeah,” she smirks, flicking through Netflix titles, “y’all got what you deserved.”

The sound of Sarah’s bedroom door closing over stirs you. Her room is the color of rust; the stream of amber sunlight on the carpet replaced by that of the streetlights. Beneath the door, the sliver of light is shifted by the sway of a silhouette walking off down the hall.

Sarah’s snoring quietly beside you, still in her jeans. Keeping an eye on her, you roll off the bed and creep towards the door, a slow groan coming from the handle as you twist it. Joel’s at the opposite end of the hall, disappearing into his room as you shut Sarah back into her warm slumber.

“Thought you were sleepin’,” he whispers when you slip into his room. He’s already sat in bed, leant against the headboard. The room a thick darkness, a black cloud of dusk spiraling around you and cutting you off from the rest of the world.

“Heard you come in.” You wander over, pausing at the side of the bed. “Wanna stay with you.”

“C’mere,” he says, holding a hand out. You take it, pulling yourself into his lap. He slips his hands under the hem of your shorts, fingertips brushing the crests of your hipbones. “You okay?” he asks, thumbs swiping gently on the seam of your thigh.

“Never better. You?”

He sighs in response and looks off to the window, the light catching his eye. You tilt your head and bend forward, kissing below his ear. He smells like whiskey. You breathe it in, inhaling like the sharp scent might fold you under a numb blanket of inebriation, too.

Joel takes a fistful of your hair and pulls you from his neck, watching the shift in your expression before he kisses you – steady, bracing. The first time since everything went so wrong.

For a few minutes you pretend nothing has changed – you’re still sneaking around, shushing one another; someone’s in the next room, there are still secrets to be kept. You slip your shorts down your legs, kicking them over the side of the bed; Joel’s sweatpants follow soon after. His hands surrender and you push up on his chest, dragging your core against his stubborn crotch, lips never losing contact. Tongues rolling against one another, noses bumping; a tangle of breath between you until you’ve no idea which is yours and which is his.

It’s all you know how to do, after all. It’s how this started, it’s how it got out of control. The two of you taking out your needs on one another. Right now is no different. You need to feel something other than the dread in the pit of your stomach, the ache in your heart anytime you look at him and know he feels it, too.

You come up for air and suddenly the feeling dissipates; doubt sets back in and fear washes over you like ice water. Your hips cease, Joel’s hands lift from your body. He pushes the hair from your face to find his own expression mirrored in yours.

Everything has changed.

You watch his movements, the light trace of his finger on your bare skin, the pinch of fabric as he adjusts his boxers. The careful movements of his own hips, trying not to incite anything more.

“I love you,” you offer, when he doesn’t say anything. Whispered, like it’s a question, like something to dangle in front of him to make him bite.

At the very least, it unsticks his gaze from the cotton print over your chest and back up to your face – where he softens and says, “Oh, darlin’. I love you, too.”

He gives you a squeeze and pulls you by the shoulders closer, letting you feel his lips on yours again and again, until you’re out of breath. You nuzzle your head under his jaw, the rise and fall of his chest and the steady beat of his heart at your ear.

Joel trails his hands up and down your spine. He breaks the silence first – stammers his way through a question you’re not sure how to answer.

“Was I – was I hurtin’ you? All this time?”

You lift your head, looking blankly at him. “What –?”

“Was I hurting you?”

“Hurting me?”

He nods. “Everythin’ we were doin’. Everything we’ve done. You wanted me to be doing it, right?”

He looks…scared, as though forty years have been shaved from him over the course of one day. Eyes glassy like he might burst into tears; bottom lip almost trembling with uncertainty.

You sit up and cup his face; he breathes a sigh of relief when you look him dead in the eye and say, “I wanted you to be doing all of it.”

“All of it?” he repeats.

“Yes,” you nod, “nothing you ever did ever hurt me.”

He lowers his gaze. “’cept when I left.”

“You came back.”

His thumb curves beneath the slip of fabric on your hips, toying with the elastic. There’s more in his question, you know it. He’s not convinced by a word you say.

“It’s just…all such a fuckin’ mess,” he groans, fingertips massaging his forehead.

You hesitate, unwilling to agree and unable to disagree. It is a fucking mess – that much is true. But if that’s all it is, then why does your heart pause for breath whenever you see him? Why does the mere thought of his presence, the tiniest glimpse of him – why does it all send your stomach somersaulting?

How can something supposed to be so bad, make you feel so fucking good?

“It was wrong of me,” Joel says, “to flirt with you that night I first saw you again. To put you in that position. But I did, and we ended up here. And I’m glad we did, baby, you know I am, but…it’s on me. This thing with you ‘n your dad.”

“You don’t think he should back off a little? Don’t think he’s oversteppin’ a mark, even a tiny bit?”

He shakes his head. “I’d do the damn same, ‘n you know it. I shoulda known better. Shouldn’ta let it happen. You mean more to me than the world, and I – I caused all this hurt for you.”

Sure, it’s real noble of him to take all of the blame, but it wasn’t just him. You had a part in it, too: your batting eyelashes, your hands where they shouldn’t have been. Your jaw tightens when he says it, holding back from telling him you want as much responsibility in this as he’s taking, even if he won’t allow it.

But an argument with Joel, right off the back of one with your father, isn’t really something you need. It wouldn’t help anything. So, you swallow your words and whisper new ones.

“You shouldn’t have flirted with me?”

His eyebrows flick, concern knotting them together. He sits up, scooping you in his arms. “I meant I should’ve never let it get to this point.”

“’n what about the first time you touched me?”

The memory plays between you: the weight of him on your body, the sound of the stereo system firing up downstairs. One hand between your legs and the other pinching your heart.

The light in your eyes starts to bleed through your body into Joel’s, distorting the projected image of that scene in your bedroom. It ignites somewhere low, travelling upwards until his stare locks with yours: an understanding weaving between you both.

You lean back from him, drinking in the sight. “Nothin’ but trouble, right? That’s what you said, that first night. You knew damn well where it might go. ‘n you still wanted it, just as bad.”

“Darlin’, I’m not sayin’ I didn’t, I –”

“No, no, I get it. I get it.”

You push his shoulders to the mattress. Fire in your belly, some kind of twisted energy pumping through your veins, you grind down on him again.

That thing, about this being all you know how to do? About taking your needs out on each other?

Right now, you need distraction. You need something to tire you out, to drain you of energy, to stop your thoughts for five minutes. You need someone to hold you, and love you, and make you feel good. Joel’s the perfect distraction.

He’s still hard. You’re still wet. It’s easy.

You drag your hips lazily over his, cotton riding against lace. He’s growing harder, bigger; he’s pushing up into you. You respond by pushing down, and Joel groans.

“Hey,” he takes hold of your thighs, “baby, we don’t have to –”

“Then, let’s stop.”

He says nothing.

You reach down past the band of his boxers and take him in your hand. He bites back a moan, his head falling into the pillow. You’re stroking him: long, hard strokes, fist tightening around him, fingers dipping between your folds to apply your slick to his length.

“Say the word, Joel. We’ll stop,” you pant, unsure if even you buy the words you’re saying. “You said it: none of this should’ve ever happened. You should’ve never laid a finger on me.”

His arms lift, throbbing biceps curving around his pillow and crumpling it against his skull. He doesn’t tell you to stop, because he doesn’t fucking want you to. He needs this – needs you as much as you need him, needs you more than he needs the air in his lungs.

And you’re right: it is different now. Now, it’s out in the open. The whole world could know, for all the two of you care. And maybe that’s the kick to it, now. No more hiding. No more fleeing from shadow to shadow.

You tug his underwear down and lower yourself, dragging your folds up and down the width of him while sticky precome gathers at his tip, dappling the trail of hair from his navel. And when you can’t do it anymore, when the mere sight of him drenched in your arousal threatens to send you over the edge, you line him up to your entrance and sink down, slow.

He moans into the pillow, fabric muffling your favorite sound in the world. And he doesn’t stop, his chest doesn’t stop rumbling until you reach his hilt, where he gasps.

“Darlin’,” he whimpers, hands coming back down to hold you in place.

You bat them away. “Uh-uh,” you tut, pinning his wrists above his head. “Not a – fuckin’ – finger.”

Joel grits his teeth, eyes locking onto yours, directly above him as you slide up off his cock, hips circling as you do, and then back down. Your free hand curves around his ribcage, the solid flesh of his torso stabilizing you.

“Poor baby,” you coo, pouting your lip. “Can’t even touch me. Can’t put a hand on your girl when you need to most.”

“Fuckin’ – whore,” he grunts, and your hips grind to a halt. You release his wrists.

“That what you think of me?” you ask, sitting upright on his lap. Joel’s still buried deep inside you.

“No,” he’s breathing, lips curling, “no, baby. Keep goin’.”

“I’m not the one goin’ back on my word here.”

He flashes a thick, filthy smile. “I know, I know. Go on. Make me proud.”

You lean forward again and he sighs, the feel of your wet cunt wrapping like satin around him.

“You think he’d trust you, anyway, after everythin’?” you mewl. “Think he thinks I’m in a different room right now? Tucked up in bed, safe ‘n sound? Nah, baby, he knows. He knows what you’re doin’ right now. Keep your hands off me? You can’t keep your cock outta me.”

Joel moans in agreement, hands gripping into the sheets to ground himself, hips bucking up against yours. You place your hands either side of him on the mattress and start to bounce, skin slapping, bed shaking.

“You like that, huh?” you moan, feeling the sharp kiss of his head at your cervix. Nudging, nudging, nudging. Blunt pain, blissful pleasure. “Like me riding it. Takin’ what I – oh, fuck – what I need.”

He lets out a guttural moan, writhing around underneath you. It’s like he’s forgotten where he is, forgotten you guys aren’t alone in the house; drunk on the sight, smell, sound, and feel of you on him, not even trying to stifle his sounds anymore.

You close your eyes and hope Sarah doesn’t wake anytime soon.

You’re keeping the façade up for Joel, but on the inside, you feel the exact same. His words echo in your ears, shouldn’ta let it happen, and how quickly that melted into make me proud. Your head starts to swim, your eyes heavy, your body trembling.

The thatch of hair at the bottom of his cock brushes against your clit, a gasp drawing between your teeth. Pain begins to rip upwards on the inside of your thighs, forcing you forward.

“Joel,” you pant, leaning over him. “Fuck.”

“Gotta let me touch you, baby,” he whispers, hands lifting beneath the fabric of your shirt. His fingers ghost across the curve of your shoulders. “You need it, don’t you?”

You whimper in response and Joel slips past the moment of weakness, taking a strong grip of both shoulders and pulling himself upright on the mattress. The tee slips from your body in one breath, and his hands follow the incline of your neck to your jaw, holding you steady as he fucks up into you.

“You want me to fill you up?” he asks, leaning back with a palm flat on the bed behind to watch himself disappear between your legs.

You’re nodding desperately. “Mhm.”

“Gotta ask nicely, remember? Be a good girl for me?”

“Dick,” you hiss, draping your arms over his shoulders.

He pouts. Sweat gleams on his upper lip. His voice cracks, weakens like stone beginning to crumble. “’s not v-very n-ice, baby.”

“Comeinme,” you beg, your fingers swirling around the dark hair at the bottom of his skull. “Please, come in me.”

“Atta-girl,” he groans, and his hands instantly lock on your hips. You don’t stop him this time, letting him push you down as hard as he can onto his cock, coming as deep inside you as he can.

And then – that familiar feeling of being his. Filled with him, your eyes and your nose and your mouth and your cunt spilling with the sight, smell, taste and feel of him. He coats your walls, throbs deep inside you as he claims every tiny corner of your body.

He growls as his cock twitches, and you watch his expression go from determined, to blissful, to fucking exhausted when he stills and his head rolls forward into your chest. His breath hot and staggered between your breasts; light kisses peppered onto damp skin.

You watch him through a post-sex haze, the air between you thick and blurry, as he presses his lips into your chest. He sucks along the cushion of your breast until he reaches the nipple, lips cupping around it, tongue flicking with all the effort he has left in him.

When he lifts his head again, one final kiss to your sensitive flesh, you balance his chin under your thumbs.

“You come?” he asks, the words propelled by a heavy exhale.

You shake your head slowly. “I’m tired, anyway.”

“Alright,” Joel groans, flipping you over. He pushes your thighs apart, his spend leaking from your slit and running southwards.

“Joel,” you giggle, “c’mon, I’m tired. You don’t have to –”

He’s already pushing himself lower, whipping the dark cotton tee from his shoulders and brushing his naked chest over your stomach. You lower your arms to hook under his.

“Hey. Come here a sec.”

Joel blinks up at you. “What’s up?”

“Just – come here.”

He kneels back up to you, hovering over you with his hands under your shoulders. His limp cock lies against the inside of your thigh as he lowers his weight onto your hips. You tilt your head, mapping his face.

Your knuckle runs across his cheek, the jagged bristle of his beard on your warm skin. Like running your hand under water, unable to tell whether it’s scalding hot or freezing cold – there is no saying whether you’re so used to him now that the feel of him is unaffecting, or entirely all-consuming. There’s no middle ground. Not anymore.

“I know –” You sigh, your voice swollen with a soft cry. There’s no stopping the tears anymore. They just come. “I know you think you should’ve known better. But I am so fucking glad that you didn’t.”

It’s done nothing but pour all day. You woke up this morning to the rain battering against Joel’s window, your body hooked against his by his arm.

Day four. Still no call, no text, no nothing from your dad. You haven’t exactly returned the favor – the closest you dared was having Sarah drive you to your house while he was at work so you could dip into the hallway, grab your car keys, and drive straight back to Joel’s. You pulled up in his driveway alongside each other and she rolled her window down, checking your expression before snorting.

It’s like a damn Mission: Impossible film, she jested.

The pain feels blunter, more distant than it did on Saturday. Like your father has bowed his head, faded some into the dark background of upstage. You realize, a few days in – the movie nights and the meals homecooked by three chefs; the way Joel’s scent starts to become yours, his T-shirts hanging loose over your shoulders and his boxers snug against your hips – that you forget to check on the shadow of your dad. Forget the spot he once stood in, the thunderous cloud cast over his head. The same one that so regularly used to pour rain over you.

Sarah went out with her friends a few hours ago. She called to say she’d miss dinner, so you and Joel ordered Chinese. You’re sat with your legs in his lap picking away at some noodles, scrolling mindlessly on your phone while he catches up on some baseball highlights show.

“Fuckin’ – idiots,” he mumbles, fork angrily picking at rice.

Your eyes don’t lift from the Instagram caption you’re reading. “Fuckin’ idiots,” you flatly agree.

Joel’s head turns. “Alright, Miss Big Rangers Fan. I remember a time you pretended to be into ‘em to get my attention.” He attempts to grab your phone, and you swipe it from his grasp.

“Shut up,” you giggle, grabbing hold of your takeout box. “Joel – be careful!”

He snorts, settling back into the couch, changing the TV channel. You give his thigh a little kick, tugging your blanket up. As the TV switches from one showing to the next, your phone buzzes.

You glance down, chopsticks halfway to your mouth, and freeze.

Dear Candidate…

“Joel.”

“Hm?” he asks, eyes glued to the flickering screen.

“Joel.”

“Yes, darlin’?”

You unstick your stare from the phone, looking up to meet his perplexed expression. “They got back to me.”

He squints for a second before the remote is dropped to the cushion. “And?”

“I don’t know, I just saw the first line.”

“Open it, baby. C’mon. Whatever it is, you gotta know.”

“You know what,” you shrug, “I’m good. I don’t need to know. It’s all good.”

“Hey.” Joel snaps his fingers scooping your gaze from the floral, bohemian name on the header of the email and up to his own. “Open it, or I’m kickin’ you out.”

You mock gasp. “You’d put me out on the streets?”

“Worse. Put you back to your dad’s. Now open the email.”

Your thumb trembles as it hovers over the screen, one tap away from the biggest change in your life since you left for New York. Like it’s five years ago, and you’re sat in front of your laptop, psyching yourself up to open the response to your college application.

“Okay,” you breathe, slamming your thumb down. Joel leans in, staring at the screen from upside down.

It swipes across and your eyes flit down, focusing hard on the sentence beneath the opening line. You blink rapidly, waiting for the wash of tears to clear and dissolve it to Unfortunately, or After careful consideration, or We appreciate your interest.

But it never does.

Invite to interview stares back up at you, waiting for your face to break. Expectant, a little nervous. Jittering inside your shaking fist. Joel breaks first, when he spots it.

He almost throws his food onto the coffee table, taking your container from your hands and bundling you up in his. He pulls you into his body, presses heavy kisses to the crook of your neck as you laugh, your entire body quaking with joy and terror and relief and anxiety.

“What’d I tell you?” he says, kissing you roughly. “I knew it, babygirl. I knew you would – Fuck, I am so fucking proud of you.”

“It’s just –” sniff, “– it’s just an interview, remember. I might not get it, in the end.”

Joel shakes his head. “I don’t care. You’re a damn sight closer to gettin’ it than you were three days ago.”

You sit for probably twenty minutes, laughing and then weeping and then laughing again – until the food is cold, there’s a new episode of South Park rolling on TV, and Joel’s T-shirt is soaked with your tears.

“I gotta call Sarah,” you whisper, finger sifting through his hair. Your head buried in his neck, your knees either side of his hips.

“She’s going to lose her fuckin’ mind,” he mumbles into your shoulder, laughing to himself. “She’ll sit off-camera in the corner of the room, so they can’t see her, ‘n hold up cue cards.”

You giggle, letting it dissipate into something weaker, something unconvinced. In a small voice, you say, “We just got one step closer to being four states apart.”

He looks up at you, curving a hand around your jaw, and pulls your lips against his. It’s slow, tender – his every thought and feeling translated into physical movement, transformed into a spin of butterflies in your chest.

When you pull away from him, smiling dumbly, he clips your cheek. “That scare you?”

You hesitate, afraid to tell him the truth. But it’s Joel. He knows every thought that passes through your head. You nod, eyes filling with a salty sting.

“Why?” he asks.

You glance out to the street. “’cause I love you. I don’t wanna leave you.”

Joel nods. Considers it. Then says, “You know why it doesn’t scare me?”

You lift your eyebrows in response. Why?

“Because I love you. And we are gonna be just fine.”

And you believe him.

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal joel miller #cowboy like me

[obsessedwithstarwars]

THE BULLET IN THE BOY or

THE BOY WITH WHITE HAIR

(It’s a work in progress. Names are hard.)

Tim’s senses came back slowly. When was the last time he slept? Well, aside from passing out. When was the last time he slept voluntarily? He tried to breathe evenly and pretend he was asleep, but his mind was racing. What was he doing? He couldn’t remember anything after he went on patrol. How long ago was that?? The summer air had cooled down significantly, so it had to have been a few hours. Obviously something had gone wrong. He needed to come up with a plan before whoever had him realized that he was awake.

The first thing to note was the frigid cold against his back. He was laying on a hard, smooth floor. He assumed concrete. Water dripped somewhere and echoed loudly as it hit a puddle. So it was a big empty-ish room. Probably a warehouse. Judging by the stuffy, stale, and metallic smell, it was most likely abandoned. With blood. A sharp burning pain emanating from his left shoulder meant the blood was probably his.

If Tim hadn’t been paying attention, he wouldn’t have heard the very very shallow breathing directly above him. Until extremely cold fingers wrapped something around his shoulder, jostling it. Tim reflexively took a small intake of breath at the sharp pain. It was quiet, barely noticeable but it was enough for the fingers to stop moving.

“Oh shit, you’re awake.” The voice was distinctly male, definitely young, probably a teenager.

No use in pretending now. Tim opened his eyes, surprised at how heavy they felt. Yup. He was in a warehouse. It was dark with no windows except for a few skylights on the ceiling. He was laying in the light coming from one of them with the boy sitting at his side. Moonlight outlined the boy from the skylight above. Tim couldn’t feel a breeze, yet the boy’s stark white hair moved like strong winds pulled at it. He couldn’t see a face as the boy was focused on Tim’s shoulder. Pain radiated along his arm and across his chest.

Tim attempted to sit up but found all of his limbs were heavy. What was happening? His mind felt alert, but his body was sluggish. The boy stopped what he was doing, grabbed Tim’s other shoulder and pressed down firmly on his chest. His hands were freezing. “Stop trying to move! If you start bleeding again it’s your own damn fault. I’m almost done wrapping your shoulder.”

“What did you do to me?” Tim whispered as the boy worked on winding the gauze around his upper arm.

“I didn’t do anything but you just proved my theory.” The boy huffed as he clasped two metal bandage clips on the gauze to keep it in place before sitting back.

“What’s your theory?” He had to keep the boy talking until backup arrived.

“You’re a fucking idiot.” Tim blinked. That was not the answer he expected. Maybe he did need more sleep.

“Ookayy. How did I prove that?”

“You were so focused on following that black haired kid, not to mention sleep deprived, seriously when was the last time you slept?! I thought I was bad. I sleep more than you and I’m dead.” He chuckled as if he had said something completely normal, and not something that was the equivalent of saying the sky was green. “Anyway, you were so focused on m-on him you didn’t notice you were being followed.” He slowly put his makeshift medical supplies into a backpack that had seen better days. Tim filed away the information for later. Better to keep the boy talking.

“I knew I was being followed.” At this, the boy stopped what he was doing and scoffed at him.

“Oh, really? Two guys attack you, you fight back. Not bad. You’re a better fighter than I am. Six more join and you get yourself shot in the shoulder. So I grabbed you and flew ran like hell. Hence you’re an idiot.” He gently pulled Tim up into a sitting position and propped him up with a crate. Tim’s eyes were now adjusted to the dark and he could see more. He studied him. The boy was extremely thin but surprisingly strong. He was very pale too. How old was this kid? Tim guessed younger than him. Where were his parents? Was he living on the street?

“They shot you in the deltoid.” The boy continued. Hmm, so he knows anatomy. That’s a class Tim was taking. They might be closer in age than he thought. “It wouldn’t stop bleeding so I brought you here, got the bullet out, and patched you up. It was covered in a weird substance. Probably a paralytic of some sort since you’re having a hard time moving. You obviously didn’t call for backup or they would be here already. So you’re a fucking idiot.” He zipped up his backpack.

“Why were you there?” Tim slowly and with great effort reached for his insignia. If he could just communicate with his team, he might be able to help the boy too.

“Nope, sorry. This isn’t Jeopardy. That is not a question you’re getting an answer to. Also, have you seen what you’re wearing?” At this, Tim froze. He was wearing his Red Robin uniform. He couldn’t feel his face from the drug. Was his mask still on?

Almost as if the boy could hear his thoughts, he quickly said “Your mask is on your face. And I didn’t look. I understand the importance of a secret identity. You could say I was reborn with one. Or that I have a split personality.” He laughed. Tim felt relief, but the boys words provided more questions than answers.

“Anyways, we’re just going to pretend I didn’t see you and you didn’t see me.”

“Why would we do that?” Tim continued to slowly reach for his insignia.

“We both have identities to protect.” At this, the boy crouched down to eye level with Tim. Oh shit, he’s cute. The boy’s face was surprisingly clean, with scrapes on his gaunt cheeks, and a bruise forming under his right eye. The boy was beautiful. But something was familiar about him. Before Tim had time to process what it could be the boy slowly waved his hand across Tim’s face. “You don’t need to investigate me. I’m not the boy you’re looking for.” His eyes flashed a bright glowing green. The color was eerily familiar and definitely not normal for a human. The boy had to be a meta. A meta who’d seen too many movies.

“Did- did you just try to do a Jedi mind trick on me?!”

“Depends. Did it work?” The boy smiled a half smile and Tim had to remember how to breathe.

“No.”

“Damn. Well, in any case, you won’t say anything yet. I disabled your communication device.” He pointed to the insignia. “And your tracker. Can’t have your friends follow me. Or have my enemies find me. Especially while you’re incapacitated.” The boy stood up. Tim realized he was wearing a suit too. It was all black with a white collar, belt, and cuffs. He wore white gloves and white boots. It reminded Tim of a haz-mat suit, except for the weird logo that looked like a ‘D’ and a ‘P’ combined on his chest. Despite cleaning Tim’s shoulder, his white gloves were pristine.

“Enemies?”

“My sister says I’ve gone too soft. She says I need to take care of myself first and it’s not my job to protect everyone. I know she’s looking out for me, trying to protect me like she always does. But you need to know.” He took a deep breath and looked Tim in the eyes again. The green pupils glowed and Tim could see the green swirling, like a pool of bright, sickly green. Lazarus waters. That’s what his eyes reminded Tim of. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stop looking.” The boy said in a low voice. “Lives will be in danger if you don’t. Mine, my sister, my friends, your brother’s, and the boy you followed.”

“What? Which brother? Who’s after you? Who are you?”

“The dead one. The GIW. And I don’t care how good your hacker is, don’t look them up. Matter of fact, don’t even breathe in their direction. They’ll know and your dead brother will die again, except this time he’ll die a much slower, much more painful, and permanent death. If it traces back to me and hurts who I hold dear, you’ll have a much bigger, and infinitely more destructive problem on your hands.” The boy slung his backpack on and started to walk away.

“How did you know he died?” Tim asked quietly.

“Phantom.”

“What?” The boy, Phantom, turned to look at him.

“My name. It’s Phantom.” His eyes started to glow brighter, with green flames extending outward, and a smile that showed too many teeth. Tim held his breath, unable to look away. The white hair moved unnaturally with a faint bright green crown floating above his head. And Tim knew that Phantom wasn’t just a name. He wasn’t sure if he was even a meta. The boy was different. Otherworldly. A being that could and would destroy the earth if provoked. Tim knew they were no match for him and judging by the look in Phantom’s eyes, he knew it too. They stared at each other for several moments, until a faint, barely discernible noise made Phantom jerk his head away. He stopped smiling, the power he so openly displayed almost folding back into himself as he said, “Your friends are here.”

Batman and Robin emerged from the shadows. Tim was sure Red Hood was also there, along with Nightwing. Waiting in the shadows or securing the perimeter. Phantom was surrounded. Tim felt almost sad for the boy. No good deed goes unpunished, huh. But they needed to know what was going on. He had more questions. Questions that needed answers. From Batman’s stance, Tim assumed he’d heard the last part of their conversation. Saw what Phantom did. If Jason was in danger, they needed to know. They needed to stop the threat.

Phantom started laughing. His legs slowly melded together until they became a tail floating a few feet off the ground. “Aaand that’s all the time we have for today kids! Don’t forget to light a candle for your friendly neighborhood ghosts and stay away from the Guys In White. See you never!” At this, Phantom did a fake salute to Batman, bowed to Tim, and vanished into thin air before their eyes.

#danny phantom #jazz fenton #dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc prompt #batman #danny fenton #red robin #tim drake #eldritch #eldritch danny #ghost king danny #I don’t know much about Batman #i don’t know if this makes sense #or if it’s even good #I’m not a writer #the brain rot took over #let me know what you think #it’s my first small fic #be gentle #I break easily #I don’t know what to do with this #if it should continue #or if there should be more context #hopefully it’s good anyway

[yeetwinchester2]

Skipping

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Summary: Y/N had been struggling with her ED lately, but the team doesn't know that. Sent on a mission, and her partner doesn't know that it's been two days since she's eaten.

Warnings: Eating Disorder(s), passing out, angst

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

"C'mon Steve! Seriously? What else do you want me to do? She's been on every mission with me! I'm tired of her!" Throwing his hands in the air out of frustration. Bucky has had a hatred for Y/N for as long as anyone can remember. She's a former Hyrda experiment such as himself, yet they're polar opposites. Bucky is harsh, brutal, dark, seemling always seeing the negative. Yet, Y/N is kind, caring, light, and always positive. Everyone liked her. except Bucky. But she never let that get in the way of things. She treated him just the same as she did everyone else.

"She's one of our best, and so are you. I'm sorry Buck, but you need to get over it. You can out up with her for just a little while longer. You know how these things go. We get the best of the best. That's you two. We need both of you for this one. We can't have either of you back out."

"Fine. But this is the last mission with her. After this, I'm done. I can't take it anymore. Just something about her I can't stand."

"I'm sure you'll be fine. Go get ready. We leave in the morning. Carrier 0430 sharp. We leave at 0500."

‐----------------------------

The morning comes, 0430 and the team has met at the carrier. Everyone but Y/N. Which is odd, considering Y/N is almost always one of the first to arrive, prepared and full of energy. The first to notice was Nat. Once it was mentioned, Everyone followed suit with confusion.

0440 and she still hasn't shown up.

0445 and still no word from her.

0455. Nothing.

Just as they were about to call over the comms, she appears, running up to the carrier, duffle bag in hand. Immediately blurring out an apology.

"Sorry guys! I got caught up in something. But I'm here now and I've got everything, I'm good to go."

"You sure? We were getting worried." Clint said unsure of what had happened.

"Yeah, I'm good."

Everyone just brushed it off and assumed she must've slept in or missed her alarm or something of the sort. But Bucky could tell something wasn't right. He didn't know what or why, but he knew something was off. He didn't say anything, though. It's not his business, why should he care?

Steve stood, getting everyone's attention. He pulled a small map from his pocket and laid it out for the team to see. "Alright, I know we already went over the mission, but here's a recap. Nat and Clint will take the guards at the right rear entrance, me and Tony at the left rear. Y/N and Bucky will talk the center. The main objective is to retrieve the hard drive from their maim computer system. They're smart, which means this won't be easy. Stay with your partner. Watch out for each other. If you get separated, you get hurt. Six of us exiting the carrier, six of us returning, understood?"

"Aye Aye, Captain." Bucky joking saluted.

‐----------------------------

The mission went as expected, until it didn't. You and Bucky broke through the center entrance doors and took down the first set of guards without any problems. It was cold, and the alarms seemed louder than usual. Everything seemed fine, maybe feeling a little weaker than usual, but nothing too out of the ordinary. Bucky was busy with several guards on his own, while you were lucky enough to handle them one at a time. You only had one or two more to take down, Bucky had a few more. You began to feel weaker and weaker by the second. The last guard put up a tough fight, eventually winning against you. Fighting with all you had, but it wasn't enough. You took hit after hit, in the face, the gut, the side, until all you saw was black.

‐----------------------------

Bucky sent bullets through one guard after another until he no longer had anything to shoot with. So, he turned to his trusty knives and combat boots. Kicking, punching, and slashing all that comes his way. He was pleased with his completion of his portion of the mission, that is until he saw you on the ground, beat. He didn't hesitate to rush to your side. For a moment, forgetting how much he hated you.

"It's clear over here, but Y/N is down." He says over the coms, letting the rest of the team know his plan.

"On it. How bad is she?" replies Nat, her voice laced with concern.

"Not sure. I'm gonna take her back to the jet and do what I can from there." He brings your unconscious body up into his arms and carries you towards the exit and back into the jet.

‐----------------------------

You slowly try to open your eyes, bringing up a hand to block out the bright light hovering above you. Suddenly, it dissappears.

"Hey, hey, lay back down. Y/N, it's Bucky. You went down during the mission and we are in the jet. We need to figure out what happened with you. What hurts?"

"Nothing much right now, I'm fine. Just got a headache," you say, swinging your legs across the side of the bed, attempting to brush off the embarrassment. Hoping and praying that he doesn't try to investigate any further, knowing it'll be 10x more embarrassing than what he's already witnessed.

"What happened out there? I've never seen you go down that quick."

"The guy just got to me and he was stronger than I must've realized. I'm fine though. Just drop it, please." You didn't want to seem rude, but more importantly, you didn't want him knowing.

With perfect timing, Steve calls over the coms, "Good work, team. We're done here. See ya at the jet."

‐----------------------------

Everyone else boards the jet, each one asking some version of "you ok?" And you just nod with a smile and hid it all the best you can. God, you're starving. It been two days since you've had a meal. You knew it wasn't good for you. You would've eaten before the mission, but you felt fine before. More importantly, you looked fine, so there was no need.

You had struggled with an eating disorder for a few years now. It had calmed down and you had almost forgotten about it for a while. One bad instagram post from a model or the wrong word being said or one bad joke about your body. That's all it took to trigger your ED.

You had started living with the team while it was getting better, so you never told them about it. You worked out with them, ate with them, appeared healthy around them. But when you were alone, it was quite the opposite. Doing anything to keep yourself from eating, doing extra workouts to burn the calories. The team never found out, but it has been getting worse and you're worried some of the team may have noticed something was wrong. They've said you look tired, or maybe even smaller than usual. All that last comment did was encourage you even further. So, you kept going, letting it get worse. Skipping more meals, avoiding the team as much as possible, working out every chance you get.

‐----------------------------

You were sent the the med bay as soon as the jet touched the base. You were checked over and over. Turn out, you only had a concussion and broken nose. It could have, probably should have, been much worse. You have Bucky to thank for saving you. From the med bay, you were released and headed straight to your room.

You walk down the hall towards your room, the one just before Bucky's. You want to thank him, but now's not the time.

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

this is is definitely a part 1. but I get on Tumblr like once every 6 months so who knows if there will ever be a part 2.

#bucky barnes #marvel #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fic #bucky x reader #disordered eating in tags

[surshica]

Stay Home !

synopsis : yn was caught in the meteor incident instead of chishiya taking her to the boderlands when he was at work — a surpise visit.

genre : angst — fluff

A/N : my first one shot HAHA; this was kinda shit but yeah…ANWYAYS i trued i saw fruit basket tiktok and thought let’s make a one shot, and it’s kinda shit and rushed but 🧍‍♀️

— CHISHIYA x FEM!READER

inspo

‘and in my eyes, there is a tiny dancer watching over me.’

you could never sleep properly, there was an urge to leave this hell of a whole called the borderland. the mere thought of you on the verge of death didn’t startle you; the thought of chishiya leaving alone did. you made friends at the beach and very much foes. you enjoyed the company you had from kuina arisu and usagi. you were alone now. maybe it wasn’t a good idea to separate from the group.

running from the king of spade was though, you weren’t sure if you truly did want to risk your life to get into some car. you were more headstrong and empathetic yet stern at the beach. that made you let out a small chuckle. after playing many diamonds and heart games the itching burn made you want to leave more.

the black jacket you found comfort in had gotten dirty so you tossed it getting a new one, the skirt had been flowing in the winds slight breeze, your hair had been the least of your worries to keep maintained, messy yet you still felt beautiful. you were kicking the pebbles on the ground, a frown formed on your lips. chishiya was the only person you could think about there was nobody else, you knew your family were fine since they were out of japan but chishiya. every night you wished for you to get out of this place faster.

the sun beaming down made you hiss slightly, a sting coming from your swollen slept deprived eyes. covering the sun with your arm. you squinted your eyes to see arisu and what looked like niragi. a frown formed on your lips quickly yet quietly walking your way to arisu. “what’s happening?!” you yelled at arisu, he simply pointed to the gun next to you. nodding you grabbed it waiting for the right time to shoot niragi.

the burning hatred you had for this man was unreal. all the things he did to women was disgusting, he was the biggest reason you want to kill someone. niragi’s laugh boomed loudly in the area, a scowl escaped arisu’s mouth as you just inhaled sharply being aware of your surroundings.

you tried shooting when he was laughing but you were a tad bit too far to the right, your face twitched in annoyance. “seriously?! is that the best you can do? that’s so disappointing and..” “sad.” the pause in the sentence gave you time to calm yourself. “come on!” “shoot me!” “or are you too much is pussys to do that?” niragi licked the metal part of his gun like it’s his. arisu was very much shaking, you shot arisu a look that told him to calm down or we can die here.

“arisu im going to need you to pull yourself together or this can be the end of us!” you whispered yelled, arisu looked at you his uneasy breath was obvious; he was redeeming himself though. the air was filled became thicker and musty, niragi’s laugh was very much vibrating the air as he carelessly shot the cars. you rolled your eyes, he was seriously getting on your nerves and you just wanted to kill him.

the sound of feet walking alerted you, losing up the gun you put your hand on the trigger, pointing to the direction. you were about to shoot until you noticed the short brown hair, “usagi?” your question sounded more like a statement. arisu turned his head to happy to see usagi.

he wanted to drop everything to go to her but he knew he couldn’t, “what’s going on here?” usagi questioned looking at you arisu and niragi with guns point at eachother. “well isnt this interesting” niragi let out a wicked smile shooting two bullets towards usagi.

“USAGI WATCH OUT” arisu screamed towards her, the girl couldn’t move fast enough; her leg was injured. a gulp was viable and the sign of anguish watched over her. “fuck it.” you snarled under your breath running over to usagi stepping in front if her. a bullet above your chest and the other one in your stomach, arisu took the chance to shoot niragi in the stomach before running over to you.

the fall to the ground was rough but you couldn’t subside it from the pain of being shot. usagi’s face grew worry on it as she held your head in her hands. tears brimmed her face, “why would you do that..” hee eyes examined your body, you had a fox like grin on your face. “something told me i should” your breathing stopped slightly before you exhaled deeply, “plus i wouldn’t want the lovers to be separated~” you couldn’t help but crack a joke at the moment.

usagi slapped you lightly on the shoulder, you looked over to arisu, “i don’t know how critical these are..” you paused giving him a smile, “but please different the queen of hearts for me.” arisu nodded before resting your head on a jacket he found in the ground; grabbing usagi as they headed to different the queen.

you can feel more and more blood come out, some worry washed over you letting out a small laugh, the laugh turned into small crys. tears formed your eyes as the pain worsened, hands were shaken but you couldn’t help but laugh. as night approached your eyes grew slightly heavy. you didn’t know if it was because you were tired or because you were losing too much blood.

your bangs stuck onto your forehead as the sweat mixed with the cold air, breeze washed over. you looked up to the sky to see fireworks. a smile washed over your face, you can finally go home, you can see your chishiya. tears fell down your cheek; you did it. “niragi if you are sadly still alive,” yn grew a grin as tears rolled down her cheeks, “i hope you go to hell.” she closed her eyes as the darkness consumed her.

ılıl﹔ ◌ 𓂂 ˳⁺ 🦢 ꯭ ⊹ ⋆ ࣪

chishiya had clocked in for work grabbing himself a coffee, a black coffee. he didn’t mind it but it was definitely not his favorite. he only drank it to keep himself awake, the bitterness washed over his tongue making his face scrunch in disgust.

finishing the small cup he tossed it out heading over to his next patient, he had plans with you today, they were going to go on a picnic together but chishiya got busy per usual resulting in you just going to the cafe.

chishiya sped through patients hoping it could make time go faster but it just didn’t. he headed back to the hospitals cafe to get another coffee, he felt tired. as he grabbed his new cup of coffee he looked towards the now loud commotion  building; walking over to one of the nurses who had been watching in distress. “what happened?” his rasp liked voice had made the nurse jump in surpise before looking back at him.

“oh they’re the poor unlucky souls that got hit with the meteor.” her frown was evident, sadness in her eyes. “when was this?” his eyebrows furrowed as he scratched his head, “it happened around 5 minutes ago..” her lips agaped before closing it and shaking her head looking down at her phone.

he took his phone out his pocket to see if you had texted him back but you never did, a displeased look washed over him. you were never one to leave him on delivered for more than five minutes heck even ten, but almost twenty? he figured something was up. as he looked up he noticed a figure that looked oddly fimilar to him, as he looked closely the person had the same matching necklace as chishiya.

his breathing bitches, the lifeless body laying on the stretcher. the medics hurrying the bloody bruised girl to a room to hook her up. chishiya felt his feet start walking towards the girl. the walking went to a sprint, the sprint went to a full on jog. his hands weren’t even in his pocket. his phone was clutched in his hand with a picture of both of them on his lockscreen.

looking from the outside chishiya could see a boy’s lifeless body and yours. his eyes rested on the heart monitor that stopped beeping and went cold for a minute; his eyes winded slightly. breathed hitched. his lips turned into a downward frown. he didn’t want to believe what he saw, he wanted to think it was fake. he didn’t want to believe you were gone from him.

he was intently watching from the windows, he ignored even the slightest hi’s and hellos, his eyes were fixated on you. after countless defibrillator attempts they were finally able to get your heart back on track. they hooked you up quickly before exiting to other patients rooms. as the doctors and nurses left he slipped his way into the room closing it on his way in.

the curtain for the other patient was closed so it didn’t matter to him, he didn’t care for them he cared for you. he looked at the monitor before looking back at you. his hand brushed the messy strands off your face, his hand intertwined with yours. he placed small kisses all over it.

he was mumbling sweet nothings to your sleep body, this was way of hoping you would wake up soon. he had closed his eyes calming himself. he didn’t like stress, he felt your hand slightly twitch making his eyes flare right open.

ılıl﹔ ◌ 𓂂 ˳⁺ 🦢 ꯭ ⊹ ⋆ ࣪

your eyes opened slowly as a bright light beamed through the windows and the ceiling, hissing at it you quickly close your eyes. opening them back slowly you felt someone’s hand holding onto your, looking to the right you can see him and in his glory.

a small smile formed on your face as you put your other hand on his cheek, “chishiya..” a roughed voice escaped your lips, you didn’t know if this was real or if this was still the borderlands. you quickly look down to see your bandaged wounds; your head slowly looked back up at the happy chishiya.

“i was wondering why you didn’t text me back” he smiled moving your palm to his lips placing a soft kiss. “well i didn’t expect me to die yet” you countered back. chishiya let out a soft short laugh. you were still debating if this was truly real or just a dream. a single tear rolled down your cheek as you felt chishiya’s loving kisses warm your hand.

“how long was i out?” you questioned, you spent basically 4 months in the boderlands so she’d like the time here as well. “your heart stopped for a minute..” your eyes has widened slightly as the words, lips agaped. closing your eyes you let in another small breathe before looking at chishiya.

“i have so much to tell you chishi..” you moved your hand around his neck pulling him closer, nose touching eachother, your smile was brighter than he could ever remember.

“i’m sure you do..” his cat like grin formed onto his face—leaning closer he kissed you ever so slowly. a gentle slow kiss that had so much passion in it. you smiled into the kiss, oh how much you missed his touch. you pulled him closer to you lightly to deepen the kiss.

the kiss was short yet sweet, his hand still connected to yours. he licked his lips as his eyes stared into your tired ones, “next time stay home” a small like smile formed on his lips. “alright doctor~”

tags !!

@nanamora @saiewithakatana @chiishiiya @bowscale @theinfaethablefig @luv4kuina @eissaaaa @fiona782 @eshtravagent

#aib chishiya #chishiya x reader #chishiya headcanons #alice in boderland x reader #chishiya fluff #chishiya imagine #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x fem!reader #chishiya shuntaro angst #chishiya fic #🎐 ։ ONESHOTS · ᘞ #- surshica ♥︎

[queen-haq]

Fic: Grudgingly Yours (Part 5)

Fic: Grudgingly Yours (Part 5)

Summary: You are a general surgeon, working in a hospital that’s slowly sucking the life out of you when one day you’re given the offer of a lifetime.

A.K.A  - An arranged marriage fic :)

Pairing: Billy Russo x You

Rating: R

Masterlist (contains links to my other stories and this one)

Chapter 5

Your breath was ragged, your throat dry from screaming so hard. Your brother was dying in front of you and no matter how much you screamed at him he wouldn’t look at you.

In the blink of an eye you were at the hospital, taking bullets out of a horse. It was a beautiful animal, midnight black with a shiny, sleek mane, speaking to you as you operated on him. You were trying to save its life but the horse remained unfazed, being sweet and encouraging. You felt kinship with the animal, like you knew him. And then it was touching you, with human hands, his long, lean fingers running through your hair. It felt good, the sensation making you tingle. Your face felt warm, flushed. It was hot, too hot. Like your body was lodged against a heater or something. Irritated, you brushed off whatever was covering you and the respite from the heat slowly lulled you back to sleep.

Several times throughout the night you were startled awake by Billy, pressed tightly against you. At times facing him, other times turned away. There wasn’t much space on the couch, and maybe that was the reason why, but you were surprised at how tactile he was. His hand was always on you, tucked around your waist, your hips, on your butt, on your breasts before you moved them away. You knew it wasn’t about you, he was probably the same way with the women he slept with – you just happened to be sharing the couch this time.

You woke up alone the next morning facing the back cushion. There was a throw draped over you, your robe gone.

“You kick in your sleep.”

Hearing Billy’s voice from behind, you immediately pulled up the throw. Just because you probably flashed him in your sleep didn’t mean you had to do it now. You shuffled around to face him, throw tucked under your chin so your breasts weren’t exposed.

He was sitting on a chair facing you, sipping a mug of coffee, wearing workout clothes. His casual demeanor was a surprise, you were used to seeing him angry or stressed out. Mocking you most of the time when he wasn’t being insulting. That’s why last night was so unexpected. Seeing him be so vulnerable and pleading for help, it came out of nowhere. And as surprised as you had been, he was probably doubly so. Which was why a part of you was bracing yourself for the inevitable assholery from him. “Something I learned in golddigger school,” you retorted.

He didn’t say anything, just watching you. Wearing a blank expression, his face was unreadable, making you nervous.  “You were all over me last night. Guess they didn’t teach you about respecting personal space in class,” he drawled after a few seconds, setting down the his empty cup on the coffee table.

“Of course not. You don’t get a rich husband by being respectful.”

For a second you thought amusement flickered in his eyes but it disappeared so quickly you must have imagined it.

“What the fuck was last night? You tryin’ to seduce me?”

Despite the hostile words, his voice was calm. There was no anger or derision in his tone, which confused you even more. At least if he was pissed, you’d know how to react. “You’re the one who asked me to stay with you.” Even to your own ears, you sounded bitchy. “Begged, actually.”

A well-defined eyebrow quirked up, the corners of his mouth lifting so slightly that he almost appeared to be smiling. “I don’t beg, sweetheart.”

What the fuck? Was he seriously trying to gaslight you? “So what do you think happened? I saw you passed out on the couch and decided that was the moment I was gonna jump your bones?”

“You tell me. I don’t know what gets you hot.”

His calm tone was infuriating. “Definitely not you.” The gall of him to act like you had somehow plotted all this. Pissed, you didn’t want to see his stupid, smug face again. “You mind turning around?”

“I’m fine where I am.”

“I want to go to the bathroom.”

“Go ahead.”

“I’m not wearing anything underneath this!” you huffed. “Where’s my robe?”

“You took it off halfway through the night.” He reached behind him and pulled out the fabric. Instead of throwing it to her, he draped it over his lap.

“You want to give that back to me?”

“Maybe.”

“Don’t be a fucking asshole.” He sneered at her words. At least that side of him was familiar, you reminded yourself. You could handle him when he was being a dick. “I don’t have time for this, Billy. Give me my robe.”

“Come here and get it.”

“Or you could just throw it.”

“No.”

“Stop being a dick, Billy!”

“That’s who I am, sweetheart.” In the blink of an eye his voice shifted from amusement to controlled rage. “I’m a fucking bastard, not some broken man for you to fix. Remember that.”

Fed up and irritated, you sat up and secured the throw tightly around your body before storming over to him. Standing directly in front of Billy, you glared down at him. “I don’t want to save you.  I don’t even give a fuck about you. Last night you had a panic attack, probably some PTSD episode or something. I could’ve ignored you, yeah, but I didn’t because that’s not who I am. When someone’s in pain in front of me, I help them. Not because I care about them, but because that’s what I’m trained to do. It doesn’t mean I like you, or want to fuck you, or even give a shit about you.” Molten eyes locked with yours, he gazed up at you like he was mesmerized or something. You snapped your fingers, trying to get his attention.  “Are you listening to me?”

His eyes trailed down to your lips. “So that’s all that was? You being a compassionate doctor?”

Not responding, you moved to pick up the robe from his lap when he suddenly grabbed your wrist. His grip was firm but gentle, his eyes pitch-black as he stood up. Towering over you, you regarded him cautiously as he closed the distance between you. “Let me go, Billy.”

He didn’t.

Refusing to look away, you held his stare. He must have taken a shower because you could smell the subtle scent of his soap, a wonderful, fresh scent that made you want to lean in and inhale him more. Of course that was a ridiculous thought, you could just imagine how he’d react to that.

His voice was low, raspy, almost seductive, his intense eyes gleaming over your face like you were fascinating to him. “Next time you see me like that, don’t help me. Even if I ask.”

“Tough shit. I’m not gonna change who I am because of you.”

Anger flitted across his face. “Do you know how stupid that is? I was blazed out of my fucking mind, probably having a panic attack. And you come in there like some goddamn idiot. You’re lucky I didn’t accidentally smash your face in.”

“You realize how that sounds? You need help.”

A heavy sigh escaped his lips while he finally released your wrist. In one swift motion he retrieved the robe from the ground and wrapped it around you. His hands lingered on your bare shoulders, the heat of his touch scorching right through to your insides. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach at the intimacy of the gesture, your heart racing. This was not good. Last night was one thing when he needed help, but in the harsh ray of daylight there was no reason to act so familiar with him.

Immediately you took a step back, tying the robe tightly around your waist. It lay lumpy on your body because of the throw underneath but you didn’t care. You just wanted a fast escape from Billy. He, however, had other plans when he took a seat on the arm of the couch.

“What kind of help?” Billy prodded, his eyes boring into you again.

“What?” you asked, distracted by his feet brushing against your bare leg.

“You mean like therapy or something? I tried that shit. Worked for a while, but every year…” For a second he looked like he was a million miles away, a haunted expression on his face. “The nightmares come back.”

Leave, you told yourself. Make up an excuse and walk away. Yet you caught a glimpse of something in Billy’s eyes that reminded you of his aching vulnerability last night and you couldn’t ignore it when he obviously wanted to talk. “Did something happen?” you asked reluctantly.

His piercing eyes dropped from your face to the floor. “Yeah.”

You waited for him to elaborate; he didn’t. There was a part of you that wanted to ask about the burn marks and scars that traumatized him – but it wasn’t your place to press him for answers. Obviously whatever triggered him was a painful experience. “Look, whatever’s going on with you, it’s not just gonna go away. I know you said therapy hasn’t worked yet but that doesn’t mean it won’t. It’s a process, you have to keep trying.”

A small smile curved his face. “Sounds like you give a shit now.”

You rolled your eyes. “I just don’t want you to accidentally kill one of your one-night stands in the middle of the night. That’s gonna be hard to explain to my friends.”

“That’s why they never stay the night,” he said quietly, his vision slowly and deliberately trailing up to your face. “I don’t let them.”

There was that fierce glint in his gaze again, the one that made your heart squeeze in your chest. And terrified the shit out of you.

“I haven’t slept beside anyone in a long time.”

Until last night. With you.

Every molecule in the air suddenly felt charged, your heightened senses trying to cope with the sensation of his hand stroking your calf. The unspoken words hung in the air, sharp and palpable, his intoxicating eyes holding you captive and making it impossible for you to look away.

“Why?” 

His question was a soft moan, sensuous, seductive, a complete contrast to how scratchy you sounded when you responded to him. “Why what?”

“Why do you keep fucking with my head?”

Your heart was pounding hard, the lump in your throat growing bigger by the second. “Why do you let me?”

“I don’t know.”

“You make it so easy to mess with you,” you murmured.

“Do I?”

Your breath caught in your throat when his fingers slowly caressed up the length of your calf, jolts running through your body at his touch. “Yeah.”

“You surprised me.”

One moment you were standing few feet apart, next he had gently nudged you forward while he stood up at the same time. All oxygen left your lungs, his close proximity making it hard for you to inhale. Or think rationally. “You stayed with me last night. You didn’t leave.”

 “I told you, I-”

 “Yeah, yeah, doctor bullshit - but you didn’t have to be sweet, or cute, or hold me until I fell asleep. And you did all that just because I asked.” His fingers curled around your hair, playing with the strands. “Makes me wonder what else you’ll do if I ask nicely.”

 “Are you capable of nice?”

 “Always so cheeky.” His eyes centered on your lips, studying your pout. The way he was looking at you right now, it was too much, desire rushing through your veins, overwhelming you, more so when he drew closer, whispering in your ear. “Maybe I need to keep your mouth busy with something else. Got any ideas?”

 Your body trembled, shivering at the sensation of his breath on your neck. Desperate for some respite, you closed your eyes. What was he doing to you? This was stupid. Stupid and incredibly risky. And knowing how easily you’d succumb to him scared you. Using every bit of strength you possessed, you removed yourself form his grip and took a step back. “Whatever you’re playing at, stop. It’s not gonna work.”

 His lips broke into a smirk. “Sure about that? Looks like t’s working already.”

 “Go fuck yourself!”

 You turned around and stormed out of the room, agitated by his amused laughter that echoed behind you.

To be continued...

A/N - I know it’s a short chapter but I thought the morning after deserved it’s own part.

#billy russo x reader #billy russo #ben barnes #the punisher #grudgingly yours

[goosewriting]

hello! i was wondering if i could request how the ROTTMNT boys would take care of or comfort their S/O after they've had a bad day emotionally (just feeling sad, tired, unmotivated, etc)? i thought you wrote them very accurately and i am curious to see what you think (if you choose to take on this idea)!

Bad day, like, the worst (rottmnt x reader)

summary: the turtles take care of their S/O after they had a really bad day.

relationship: Rise Leo, Raph, Mikey, Donnie x GN reader (separate)

warnings: distressed reader, comfort

word count: 2.2k

A/N: excuse the sudden shift in style; i’m still trying to find my sweet spot between “technically still prose but in bullet points” and “rambling about my headcanons in the group chat”. i wish i had a turtle to cuddle me on a bad day :’) hope you all have a fantastic weekend!

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

— — —

You were having one of those days where the little luck you had seemed to have abandoned you completely.

It had started that morning, when you slept through your alarm and got up late. You spilled your breakfast on the clothes you had picked out the day before, and almost everything else was in the laundry. So you had to settle for an old shirt that you didn’t consider too flattering.

Then you arrived late to class, only to realise you forgot your assignment at home. Which you had stayed up late to finish, and you were actually happy with the result. Your teacher didn’t seem too convinced about your story, and said you’d have to hand it in by that night per e-mail, or your grade would be lowered.

Once you were finally done with the classes for the day, which you hadn’t been able to focus on at all, you were just walking out the doors of the building when it started pouring. And of course you had forgotten your umbrella.

You decided to ask your boyfriend turtle to come pick you up, but your phone had run out of battery. With an exasperated sigh you placed your backpack over your head as you made a run for it.

After what seemed like an eternity, you arrived at the lair. As you entered the main room, you tripped over your own feet, and all your things from the backpack went flying. So by then you were soaked, incredibly frustrated, and had lost the last bit of dignity you had left. You were convinced that the universe was against you that day and out to get you.

Kneeling on the floor you broke down in tears.

🔵 Leo

Leo would be by your side immediately.

Even though he can seem to be all over the place, he has a very good sense for how the people around him are feeling.

Still, he appreciates it when you’re able to voice your needs.

If you have a hard time doing that, he’ll offer you some options so you can decide and not be overwhelmed.

“Do you want me to listen or give advice?”

“You wanna play a game to get your mind off things or cuddle and talk about it?”

Overall super attentive and affectionate.

Leo takes your feelings seriously of course, but if it gets too dark, he’ll try to make you laugh to lighten the mood. After all he copes with humour.

“Oh hey Y/n! I didn’t know you were coming ov-“ Leo greeted you when he heard you come into the lair, but seeing your legs give in under your weight he rushed to your side. “W-what happened? Are you okay?!”

I’ve had the WORST day ever is what you tried to say, but what came out was a series of choked back sobs and gasps.

Leo quickly picked up your things, and hooked your backpack over his shoulder, then took your hands in his to get you up to your feet, and guided you to his room. He dismissed the worried looks his brother gave him, solely focused on you. It pained him so much seeing you like this.

Sitting you down on his bed he closed the curtains at the entrance of his room. The first thing he did was give you a clean change of clothes and wrap you into a blanket burrito. Then he sat down beside you and gently stroked your cheek with his thumb, wiping away the tears.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asked softly. Using a corner of the blanket to wipe once across your whole face, you thought about it for a moment and silently shook your head.

“Is there anything I can do?” he tried again, seeing that your tears just kept coming. Sniffling, you just hugged his torso, bringing him down onto the bed with you as you lied down.

“Can we just stay like this for a moment” you said in the tiniest voice, Leo almost didn’t hear it.

“Of course” he said and kissed the top of your head, letting you cuddle up to his chest between his arms.

To distract you, he told you about some missions he had been on with his brothers, retelling some of them truthfully, and some of them with an obviously exaggerated flair, just to make you laugh or snort at how ridiculous the story was.

Hearing his voice lulled you to sleep, and it didn’t take long for you to doze off, not before thanking him with a tired voice.

Giving you a relieved, loving look, he lied next to you, hearing your even breathing, soaking up your warmth, and wiping away the tears from time to time. After he was convinced you were fully asleep, he carefully got up to get you some water and a snack, leaving it on the nightstand for when you woke up, and got into bed again with you.

🔴 Raph

Mama bear alert.

Raph could get a little overbearing when you’re feeling really down in the dumps.

He’d bring you your favourite plushies, food, comics, games, a giant pillow, everything at once.

Eventually he calms down when he realises that what you need is just him being there.

Will listen to your venting intently, offering several times to beat up who or whatever made you feel like this.

When you arrived at the lair looking like you did, the brothers called for Raph. After making sure that you weren’t physically hurt or wounded, he effortlessly picked you up and brought you to the bathroom to take a warm shower. You didn’t really protest because a shower did sound good. Maybe it’d wash away the cold, wet and miserable. Meanwhile he went to pick up your things and make you some hot chocolate.

You couldn’t help a couple sobs here and there while you were changing, and as Raph passed the bathroom door he clenched his jaw at the sounds; it broke his heart in half to hear you like that.

When you were done and came out of the bathroom, Raph once again picked you up and brought you to his room. He sat down on his bed with you on his lap, and handed you the steaming mug. There even were mini marshmallows floating in the drink.

“So what exactly happened? Did someone do something to you?” Raph asked, doing his best to hold back his growing anger at the thought. Shaking your head, you looked down at the drink in his hands.

“It wasn’t someone. Today just… isn’t my day. At all” you said, noticing how hoarse your voice was from the crying, and took a sip from the mug. Just the taste of how good it was, the perfect amount of sweet and chocolate-y, had tears streaming down your cheeks again.

“Is it too hot? Did you burn yourself??” Raph asked, slightly panicking. You just gave him a soft smile and shook your head again. Ah, a smile, finally, he thought to himself and relaxed again.

“It’s perfect Raph, thank you” you said, and placed your head on his plastron. He carefully hugged your body with his big arms. “And thank you for… just being here”.

“Always”, he whispered back.

After emptying the mug, you lied down next to him and retold the series of unfortunate events of that day, while he listened and drew soothing circles on your arm and back with his hand. Looking back at your day now, it didn’t seem all that bad.

🟠 Mikey

His first reaction would probably be to freak out a bit.

Materialises the first aid kit out of thin air.

Once he realises your pain isn’t external however, his demeanor changes completely and he’s much more grounded.

As… unorthodox as Mr. Delicate Touch can be, when it comes to you, he’s very gentle.

If you’re rambling about someone because you feel you were treated in an unfair way, out of the four brothers Mikey is the one to “side” with you the strongest, no matter how biased your view may be.

Hearing you arrive at the lair, Mikey made his way to you, only to find you on the floor, sobbing.

“Oh mi gosh! Y/n!” he cried out and rushed to you. “Are you okay? What happened?”

You let out a sound that was something between a whine and a high-pitched grunt.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” Mikey asked, checking your head, arms and legs. You only shook your head and leaned onto him, crying into his neck. You stayed like that for a while, both on your knees on the floor, just your sniffles filling the air, while he stroked your back up and down.

“You wanna go somewhere more comfy?” Mikey asked after you had calmed down a bit. You nodded, didn’t move however.

“Are you hungry? I made brownies” he tried luring you, and it worked. You leaned back to look at him, and with puffy eyes, a red face and part of his plastron imprint still on your cheek, you whispered a firm “Yes”.

“Brownies will make everything better, don’t worry!” he said and helped you up to your feet, taking your hands. “But first: you need to shower. You’re cold and soaked. We don’t want you getting sick!” he exclaimed in a sing-song voice and guided you to the bathroom. Leaving you with a towel and a change of clothes, he made his way to the kitchen to prepare the snacks.

When he had the brownies, a can of whipped cream and (favourite drink) ready, he placed everything on a serving tray and brought it to his room. Not long after, joined him, rolling up in his blanket.

He sat down next to you on the bed, taking out his phone.

“Do you wanna watch Youtube? I think there’s a new video of the series you like” he offered. Snuggling up to him and being careful not to get crumbs on his bedsheets, you thanked him and gave him a quick kiss on the tip of his beak, then took a bite out of the brownie. It was so good you could have started crying again.

You two spent the evening watching mostly vine compilations. When he heard your first real laugh at one of the sketches, he finally relaxed.

🟣 Donnie

Out of the four, he probably has the hardest time.

Not because he doesn’t want to “deal” with you or anything; he just doesn’t know what to do.

You’ll have to be very clear on what you want from him, and he’ll happily follow suit to the best of his abilities.

Probably has to actively hold back on commenting unsolicited advice, and he won’t succeed every time.

Donnie just wants to help you make a plan to get out of whatever situation you’re in, because he hates seeing you like this. It makes him feel so helpless.

If it was someone however that made you feel like this, he’s bringing out all of his sharpest and pointiest inventions, no matter if they’re still in beta.

When he found you on your knees, soaked, sobbing and on the floor, for a moment Donnie just stood a couple steps away, looking at you. He was trying to process what he was feeling, how to handle it without lashing out, and calculating every possible reason for why you looked the way you did.

Obviously it had rained, hard, as the forecast had said that morning, and obviously you had no umbrella on you. Biting his tongue as not to reprimand you on your carelessness, he decided to focus on getting you dry and warm first.

Hearing him, you looked up at the turtle standing in front of you. “Donnie” you called him, and a new stream of tears came running down your face. The purple turtle felt a sting in his chest.

Approaching you, he helped you get up. You went in for a hug but he stopped you by the shoulders. “Shower first” he simply said, and you followed suit.

After giving you a clean change of clothes, a glass of water and a fruit of your choice, he checked for a fever. Seeing as your temperature was normal, he let you sit on his bed next to him.

“So what happened?” he finally asked and you trembled slightly. You knew he’d probably scold you for not having an umbrella with you, and for forgetting your assignment, and you really didn’t feel like getting a scolding right now. But you also didn’t want him to think you had to walk on eggshells around him; it had never been like that. You liked how blunt and direct he was, and knew he’d never lie to you, no matter how ugly the truth was. You sighed deeply.

“I just had the worst day ever” you began. “It’s not even worth going into detail. It was literally just Murphy’s Law over and over.” Sniffling, you looked up at him. “Can we just… hang, for a bit? I really need a distraction.”

“Sure, we can hang” he said, but then a mischievous smirk took place on his face, as he took you by your hands, guiding you off the bed. “Oooor, I can show you my super-cool new invention I’ve been working on. It will not only distract you, it’ll blow your socks off!”

At that you laughed slightly, and seeing he achieved his goal, Donnie brought up your hands to his face to kiss your knuckles. A slight blush adorned your cheeks. It never gets old, he thought to himself in satisfaction.

#goose feathers #rottmnt #save rottmnt #rottmnt leo x reader #rottmnt donnie x reader #rottmnt mikey x reader #rottmnt raph x reader #tmnt 2018 #tmnt x reader #rottmnt x reader

[1moreoffkeyanthem]

I finally did it yall I made a list of my favorite Cartmanisms bc I do in fact very much enjoy writing his out of pocket ass

“Oh speaking of,” Cartman added, “let’s just sacrifice the Insulin Bitch and the brain damaged hippie to the zaliens so the rest of us can make a run for it.”

Eric was scowling. “Only I’M allowed to make comments about you two gayasses. I say we wipe the floor with those homophobes.”

“I doubt they’ll have a vest in your size, Thumbulimia.”

“Please, I have better things to do than watch the Jew have a Post Traumatic Spider Disorder episode.”

Cartman rolled his eyes, but got up to drop a five in the Fuckwad Jar. “I hate you guys, seriously. Marj, you weren’t even in the room for the Nancy joke.” The lace trim of his robe fluttered as he sat back down, which made Stan laugh again. “What’s so funny, hippie?” There weren’t really words, honestly, but he’d try. “I just… I never want us to change, you know?” “Gay.”

Eric sung a few lines of ‘Jesus Loves The Little Children’ in a creepy horror movie voice and then sprung out from his hiding spot and started blasting on an unsuspecting youth who got too close, chasing him down the field with rarely shown athleticism.

Cartman looked incredibly bored as he clicked the magazine and snapped it back into place. “Well fuck me for being prepared.”

Cartman scoffed. “He’s not doing anything but staring up at you like he’s Sleeping Goddamn Beauty and you just kissed him out of a coma.”

“Awww, looook, you guys! They’re having a gay little hurt/comfort moment again! What, you gonna kiss it better, Kahl?”

Cartman just rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “What the hell ever, Jimothy. Go stutter about it to someone else.”

“Okay, fucking first of all,” Kyle shot a glare at Cartman, “no one’s getting sacrificed. Literally, that’s not goddamn happening. AND we’re keeping this discussion CIVIL. It’s five in the morning and nobody’s slept very much. There’s not a single guy here who’s actually thinking straight.” “That would be because half of you are gay as balls.”

“Once again, I’m moving that we leave the hippie behind.” “Cartman, remind me to kick your ass when we’re out of here.” “Good luck on that if you fucking faint like one of those stupid goats again.”

Cartman was out of bullets, but he’d taken out a good chunk of the extraterrestrial undead. “Holy shit, Kahl, you better not die on us. Cockroach, remember? You’re a damn cockroach.”

“Aight, so anyway, what’s JewBot up to?” “Still at work. He’ll be home later. We’re gonna go out to dinner with the Tuckers.” “I didn’t ask for your life’s story, buttplug,”

“Oh JESUS CHRIST!!” Oh, great. Cartman had emerged from his cave. “Did I just walk into a stairwell orgy?”

“Fuck you, Kahl. Your recycled dildo and his weirdo wingman pulled me out of a Klance slowburn.” “WHO the FUCK is reading Voltron fanfiction in 2023?!” “Some of us are dedicated.”

Eric paused his self imposed quest to rob every taco truck in GTA and set aside his controller. “Hellllll no. The vampires don’t get my blood without paying me for it.”

“Geez, pack it up, Fiddler On The Roof.”

“Fatass, if he dies in a car accident because YOU made him freak, I WILL kill you.” “Good luck doing that with one leg and a fever, fleshlight.” But his voice softened. “Just try to chill out until he gets home, Kahl. Then you can be a terrible patient for someone who actually likes you.”

“Yeah, hippie. I wasn’t going to deal with you if something happened to your burning bush.”

A certain abrasive fuckwad leaned casually against the wall. “Oh, the Bubonic Jew didn’t tell you yet? I said he fell on the stairs, didn’t I? He just hurt his knee again, what else is new.” Stan made a noise of surprise and Cartman pointed his beef jerky at him. “By the way, I really don’t get why you get so stoked about lugging him around. He’s difficult.”

Cartman scurried off to inspect a leaf. “Woah, you guys! I think I just, like, discovered empathy!” “You’re looking at a plant.” “Plants have feelings too, Khal! Look at your photosynthesizing dildo back there!”

“Like he needs an excuse to get on his high horse about shit.” “I’ll kick your fat ass,” Kyle warned. “Good luck, tinkerbell.”

Cartman had planted himself into the passenger seat, munching away at that bag of funyuns. He glanced back. “What’s the ‘sitch, Ken-Possible?”

“Because, you pussy,” Cartman said with a false saccharine smile, “you have the biggest TikTok following from your gayass little songs.

“Yep.” Cartman said through a mouthful of eggs. “Plus, Clyde has an affair going with the town vet, Butters is a total twink, and Stanny boy has a boner for the Jew.”

Oh dear god. Cartman was NOT about to babysit the argumentative dickhole while the housekeeper worked. As much fun as he was to fight with, Kyle was a fierce opponent, and Cartman wasn’t really in the mood. He’d had a weird night. The cats had been on edge.

Oh, of goddamn course. The OTHER buttplug. It wasn’t a secret. Well, technically it was, because no one talked about it, but anyone with eyeballs could see that Stan and Kyle had a gayass little private relationship going on behind Craig’s back. Good for them, or whatever, but if the Spider ever got proof…

Cartman just rolled his eyes. “Scott, you glucose gobbling ass bitch, I’ve literally butchered two people. I know the human body, okay?”

“The fuck.” Cartman’s eyes widened. “Every single one of you dildos had better be praying that there’s no internal bleeding.”

Cartman put his hands up. “Gahdamn, you guys. Just trying to lighten the mood in this hot air balloon to Hell.”

“Ay! Hippie! The Jew had to stay for basketball so I’m here with your buttfucking homework-“

Cartman definitely wanted to rip on him for wallowing in his own sadness, but the sooner he got this loser to be a person again, the better. “No shit, asshole. Your fucking fleshlight is even more intolerable without you to hold him back. You need to come back to school.”

“Also, I’m telling your little prince of Egypt that he can come over. It’s not like he’s gonna catch your Sad Bitch Disease.”

Cartman strolled around the corner, now wearing his frilly ‘widow whose husband died under mysterious circumstances’ robe.

#he’s so fucking funny #i actually love writing my favorite abrasive fuckwad #south park #eric cartman #why are so many of these OJV or from ITTG lmaooo #him in TWITR was fun too #my shit #Cartmanisms #ao3 shit #my writing #he do be callin people buttplugs fleshlights and dildos #also #long live the Fuckwad Jar

[bullet-clubs-bitch]

Can I request a Christian Cage x Female!Copeland!Reader where Christian is married to Adam’s younger sister and they have their own little family together and she’s Christian’s Valet on screen when Adam arrives it causes a riff because (on screen) he’s trying to get his baby sister away from who he believes is her manipulative piece of shit husband but behind the scenes he’s the most caring and loving big brother and uncle and best friend?

Love Hate and Kayfabe

Warnings: Mentions of toxic relationships, hitting, violence, swearing, generic warnings of all sorts

Word Count: 4k

Main Masterlist Christian Cage Masterlist

When I was approached by Tony, Adam and Christian about this new storyline idea I didn’t like it. Not because Christian and I would have to act like a toxic couple who hated each other but the fact that our children would be involved. As an entertainer,  I’ll admit I was intrigued with the concept but as a parent, I wanted to protect my children. The twins were too young to understand that it wasn’t real. It didn't matter how I would explain it if they saw Mom and Dad yelling at each other they would think it was real. Except in this case, it would be much more than yelling, you have to keep the Kayfabe alive. 

Spending the past 20 years in the wrestling industry I was all too familiar with the issues many children with wrestler parents had. Christian and I knew this, that’s why we waited so long to have children, we wanted to make sure to be there when they grew up but sometimes an opportunity that’s too good to pass up shows up. The next thing you knew Christian and I were out of retirement and helped to create All Elite Wrestling. 

When I found out my older brother Adam Copeland would be joining AEW for some reason I was angry. I mean don’t get me wrong I loved him but I wasn’t as happy as I thought I would be. All Elite Wrestling was MY show, I didn’t need my older brother to steal my spotlight once again. Although my run in WWE during the divas era was quite successful, I was still always viewed as ‘Edge’s little sister’. I hated it.

 Adam and I were never close growing up, since he was 10 years older than me. He was always protective over me, too protective. I could never do anything without my big brother being there. When I told him I wanted to wrestle he shut down the idea immediately, he couldn't bear to see his little sister do such an extreme sport, it made me sick. Just because our dad died when we were young doesn't mean he can start acting like mine. It was his best friend Christian Cage that made Adam change his mind. Christian secretly trained me and vowed to keep it a secret from Adam despite the possibility of it ruining their friendship. Adam would find out about our secret when he went to a local indy show to support one of Christian’s friends on their debut match. What Adam didn’t know was that Christian’s ‘friend’ was me. Of course, Adam was mad at first but once he saw what I could do he had no choice but to allow it. 

Since that day I have engraved myself as one of the best female wrestlers of my generation, without the help of my brother. I did it myself, or I guess with Christian. Christian was there from the very start, he taught me everything I knew, he was there for every match, and every injury, and he even supported me when I asked for my WWE release. I knew I had to wrestle in a promotion without the famous rated R superstar to be taken seriously. During that time Christian and I had developed feelings for each other. After years of sexual tension between the two of us that my brother obviously never noticed we bit the bullet and slept together. When Adam first found out about our relationship he was furious, not because I was sleeping with his best friend but how we hid it for a year without him noticing it. But to be fair it was supposed to be a one-time thing, but of course that’s never how it works. A one-night stand turned into booty calls, to friends with benefits, then fast forward 15 years here we are. Christian and I have been married for the past 10 and have 5-year-old twins, a boy and a girl who we named Isla and Carter. Who currently sat with us in Tony Khans office as we went over everything. 

It was simple really, I had been Christians ‘valet’ ever since he joined AEW as I retired after having the kids so the fans already knew our relationship. That part was done, the only thing left to do was use the debut of Adam Copeland to create a rift in our relationship. 

**** 

“HOW DID YOU NOT KNOW HE WAS GOING TO SHOW UP! HE’S YOUR BROTHER FOR GOD SAKES!” Christian yelled 

“YOU KNOW I HAVEN’T SPOKEN TO MY BROTHER SINCE WE GOT MARRIED! HOW WOULD I KNOW HE WOULD SHOW UP? AREN’T YOU HIS BEST FRIEND!” I yelled back 

“FORMER best friend. You of all people should know what it feels like to have him steal all the spotlight from you. Now you better fix this problem because there is no way in hell I will let him take the spotlight away from us again”  Christian said this time in a condescending tone. 

I did exactly what Christian said, next week I would interrupt a backstage interview with Adam and attempt to ‘fix’ this problem. During the segment, Christian, Luuchasaurus and our newly adopted son Nick Wayne would attack him from behind. This would begin not only the rivalry between Christian and Adam but also between me and Christian since he would accidentally injure me, slowly creating that rift.   

*** 

“So Adam, everyone is dying to know why you decided to join All Elite Wrestling?” Renee Paquette asked 

“Well Renee, I decided to join AEW so I could finish my career with the man I started with. I want to end my career with my best friend Christian Cage” Adam said 

“Christian did not seem too happy when you made your debut at WrestleDream, he claimed that you were here to steal the spotlight from him. How do you feel about that?” 

“Well Renee, first off-” I cut Adam off before he could finish his sentence 

“Well Well, look who it is. It’s the rated R superstar Adam Copeland” I yelled in a cocky tone as I entered the scene, grabbing a chair to sit between Adam and Renee. “What’s wrong Adam? You seem…. On Edge? Renee, you should be asking why he really joined AEW, you and I both know that was a bull shit answer he gave you. The real reason you joined AEW was because you couldn’t bear to see your little sister in the spotlight. I’m not some kid anymore, I have become twice the star you ever were. People should be referring to you as Y/n’s older obnoxious brother who can’t stand to accept the fact that I am better than you. You can’t just walk into MY company and expect the golden treatment because of who you USED to be. I think it’s quite funny how you referred to Christian as your best friend. If you were really his best friend you would have called on his birthday, Christmas, New Year’s, fuck you would have been at his wedding. You left him hanging at our wedding day after you promised you would be his best man. You never called when I gave birth, never made the attempt to meet your niece and nephew, you never even called to see how I was doing after I NEARLY DIED after carrying this industry on my back for the past 20 years!” Just then on cue, Christian and the boys jumped Adam from behind and began the attack. 

The backstage area had become pure chaos, chairs, tables, and everything that was not nailed down was being thrown. Adam and Christian started pummeling each other, security tried to pull the pair away but was unsuccessful. Just then Christian threw a chair at Adam’s head which he ducked, hitting me in the head instead. As my body hit the floor everyone went quiet as reality set in, Christian ran to my side to see if I was okay but Adam pushed him out of the way, so he could check on me. “Get away from her!” He yelled at Christian. You could see the regret on Christians face knowing that he took things too far. 

***

A few weeks  had passed since our segment and the ratings had skyrocketed. We had to move faster with this story that we had originally planned because the people were just too interested in it. This week after playing with Adam for weeks he would get a TNT title opportunity. In order to get his title shot at Full Gear he would have to wrestle Luchasaurus and Nick Wayne in a two on one handicap match. Adam would win the match and I would get blame me for it all, claiming that it was still my fault for Adam’s debut in the first place. I paced nervously around the backstage area as I wanted for our que to begin the match. Sure Christian and I had argued in ring and real life on many occasions but this time was different. After this match Christian and I would have to fully commit to the act. That meant no more wedding rings, no more traveling together, we couldn't be spotted together. Christian noticed me toying with my ring and came up to me giving me a big hug. “You know we will still be married right?” he told me softly before placing a delicate kiss on my forehead. “Yeah I know. It’s just weird. Whatever I say tonight I’m telling you right now I won’t mean” I told him as I held him closer. “I know, and I’ll apologize in advance for my actions” Christian told me. 

“Alright you love birds, you're on in 60 seconds” one of the producer’s yelled. 

Christian and I exchanged I love you’s and a kiss before we heeded hand in hand to the ring for the last time. 

**

Christian sat on commentary and I was ringside supporting my boys. On multiple occasions I interfered when the ref wasn’t looking, but even with my tricks Adam still had the upper hand. I went under the ring and grabbed a steel chair, I handed it to Nick and distracted the ref. Unfortunately Adam countered and hit Nick on the crown of his head with the chair, busting him open. 1..2..3..it was over. 

Christian stormed down to the ring and the two of us began to argue. Although he didn’t have a mic it was still loud enough to be heard. “This is all YOUR fault. I told you to take care of this and instead you made things worse!” Christian yelled. Adam sat on the floor on one of the ring corners, listening to our argument. I tried to get some words in but it was no use. I just kept saying I was sorry but he didn’t care. Christian was angry, with every word he got closer, we were soon chest to chest. The way Christian towered over me made me feel small, I felt like I had been teleported to my youth, I forgot this wasn’t real. “You are worthless, you are nothing” Christian said through gritted teeth. I could feel the tears fall, I was crying. I pushed Christian away, so hard he almost fell. Big mistake, SMACK. He hit me, he actually hit me. My cheek stung and the arena went silent, you could hear a pin drop. I couldn't control my emotions, I was a mess. Looking back at the footage I cringed at the way I looked like a big baby, for god sakes I’m a forty old woman who was having a toddler meltdown on tv. Out of instinct, I hit Christian back, I don’t know why I did but I did, I didn’t stop. Adam quickly got up and separated us. He pulled me away as I screamed. “I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I’m sick of your shit Christian, I’M DONE!” I yelled as Adam pulled me out of the ring. I took off my wedding ring and placed it on the ring apron before Adam picked me up, throwing me on his shoulder, carrying me backstage. 

***

Christian and I sat in our private lockerroom alone and in silence for what felt like forever. We were the main event of the night and Rampage has just been filmed. We had been here at least an hour. I couldn't comprehend what happened, Christian hit me. I know this was all part of the story but I didn’t think he would hit me. He never hit me before, not in any way. It took me a while to calm down after the incident, I couldn't stop crying. Several of the female talent comforted me as I cried. I hated how vulnerable I was, many of those girls looked up to me as a mentor now they had to take care of me as I took my own story too far. I was distracted from my thoughts when I felt Christian gently place his hand on mine. I pulled away fast, still on edge from earlier.                    

“I’m sorry Y/n. I don’t know what came over me, you know I would never hurt you” Christian said softly. I said nothing, I didn’t look at him, I didn’t even move. “Can you atleast look at me?” Christian asked. I turned to face him and noticed his eyes were red as well, he was crying. He reached into his pocket and pulled out my ring, the large diamond shinned in the light. “You dropped this'' he said as I let him slip it back on my finger. “I’m sorry” I whispered as I could feel the tears reforming in my eyes “I’m sorry I hit you” I told him. “No, honey I’m sorry. I'm so sorry, it was right for you to hit me. Your poor face” Christian said as he gently cupped my face, brushing his thumb at the bruise that started to form on the side of my face. “I can’t believe I did that to you. I don’t know what I was thinking. Why did I do it so hard?” He said mostly to himself. “It’s okay” I told him “Can I give you a hug?” Christian asked, scared he would hurt me. I nodded and returned the hug. I was scared, so scared. What have I gotten myself into? What if all of this became real? 

****

Just like I said it became real. After the incident I filmed a backstage clip of me dragging Christian and I’s children out of the arena. Renee tried to ask me a few questions but I was trying to get out of there as fast as I could. I held Isla in one arm and Carter held my hand. “Y/n, can you tell us what you’re feeling after the actions that just took place in the ring moments ago?” Renee asked “I’m done, I’m fucking done. Don’t you dare come near me or my children. We are over and I WILL be getting full custody” and with that I left the arena. Once that clip aired the following week my phone was going crazy. People all over the world had been talking about the story, people bought it, I bought it. I actually ended up falling into a depression, I couldn't get out of bed, I couldn't get myself to go to work. I couldn't look at Christian. 

Full gear was soon approaching and Christian and Adam had continued the storyline without me. Adam went on his weekly rants on how Christian had been manipulating me for years, how he didn’t deserve me, how toxic we were behind closed doors. Christian denied everything, he claimed that Adam was the one who was manipulating me. I mean, it was when he came to AEW we started to drift apart. Adam was just making me believe Christian was the bay guy. The crowd was divided, people on both sides of the story, so invested on what would happen at Full Gear. I, however, felt nothing but numbness. It didn’t matter how much Christian praised me behind closed doors, how many gifts he bought me to cheer me up, I coudn’t get it out of my head. I knew he loved me, I loved him but when you're so deep into a story it’s hard to get out.

It was now Full Gear weekend and it would be the first time I went to work after the whole fight. Christian and I arrived separately and stayed at separate hotels. It had been a whole week since I saw Christian last and when I saw him he was different. “Hi my love!” He said as he came up to me, holding me tight and kissing me. That was my Christian, not Christian Cage. “Have you been smoking again?” Christian asked me. I may or may not have taken up smoking again due to the stress of this storyline. “Maybe” Christian said nothing, he just laughed. “Why are you so happy?” I asked him “I’m just happy to see you. I missed you and I was talking to the boss and Cope, they think you should turn on him” "Turn on who?” “Adam, we can make it seem like the whole argument between us was just a work to get closer to Adam. Now we know his plans, now we can end him for good!” I liked this idea, did it make total sense, no, but I hated arguing with Christian more. 

I helped Christian get ready for his match and went over everything. I would accompany Adam to the ring and ‘help’ him during the match while I was actually helping Christian. Some started to catch onto my tricks. They were little things, throwing weapons in the ring to benefit Christian, distracting the ref so Adam couldn't get the pin, feeding Nick instructions to attack Adam. Soon I was feeling better, I felt like myself. I was finally able to get out of my head. The end of the match was soon approaching and this would be the finali. Just as Adam would get the three I would pull the ref out of the ring. The crowd went wild and by the look on Adam’s face I could tell he was shocked, oops. Just then I climbed in the ring and listened to Adam begging for answers. Why did I do it? Why would I do it? How could I do it? It was easy, I couldn't let him steal my spotlight once again. I then gave Adam a low blow and Christian gave him a conchairto. It was over. I pulled the lifeless ref back into the ring and listened to the painfully slow count 1….2….3… It was over. It was finally over, we won, I won. Christian and I passionately made out in the center of the ring as we drank in the boos. 

I went over to grab a microphone and made sure I got the final word. “You stupid, stupid old man. You really thought I was on your side. You’re pathetic, you see this whole thing was a trap and you fell right into it. You really thought you could split us up? I’ll give it to you, you got close but not close enough. If you thought a little argument would split us up you are sadly mistaken. Christian could put me through a flaming table and we would make up in time for dinner. You wanted to know why? Why I did it, it’s easy. It’s revenge. Revenge for making my life miserable, now it’s your time to live in my shadow, and if you think it’s over between us, that’s cute. This is only the beginning” 

Christian and I laughed, leaving Adam’s lifeless body in the ring, heading backstage to grab a few drinks, making sure to leave one for Adam. Sure I hate his guts but at the end of the day he is my brother. Christian and I might hate Adam on screen but behind closed doors we still love each other. Always have always will. I mean he is my brother, whether I like it or not. 

An: Sorry the ending is a bit rushed but I didn't want to make it too long or make a second part

#bullet clubs bitch #all elite wrestling #aew smut #aew #aew fanfiction #christian cage #christian cage x reader #christian wwe #christian cage gif #christian cage imagine #christian cage smut #christian cage fanfic #christian cage x you #christian cage oneshot #christian cage aew #christian cage is so hot

[lovecoreclownz-archive]

Oh god I just fucking realized something.

Gordon is in a heavy ass uncomfortable HEV suit the entire time. That thang is made of METAL. It's hazmat suit ARMOUR. It's made to withstand BULLET WOUNDS. That shit is heavy as balls you guys realize that???

He slept in it. Multiple times.

NO WONDER HE BECOMES MORE OF A DICK AS THE SERIES GOES ON HE'S IN MASSIVE AMMOUNTS OF PAIN IN A LIFE OR DEATH SITUATION WITH A BUNCH OF PEOPLE HE DOESNT KNOW FUCKING AROUND AND NOT SEEMING TO TAKE ANYTHING (including himself!) SERIOUSLY!

For my chronic pain havers, picture this. The pain you have now, but you are also carrying several lbs of metal Armour on your body and trudging through toxic waste, there are alien creatures trying to kill you, you're seeing a fuck ton of people die all the time, your friends (who are seemingly immortal) don't take your mortality seriously and have died infront of you several times, AND YOU DONT HAVE A PROPER PLACE TO SLEEP!

You also get AMPUTATED at some point!

Like!!! No WONDER the dude was being a dick man!!! This isn't even to consider his already stated suicidal thoughts, any mental illnesses he may have (I think he's schizophrenic and a DID system) AND physical ailments like disability and chronic pain.

Now, granted, if we're doing a streamerman kinda thing like in source, you have to remember that Gordon acts JUST like everything happening is real to a certain extent. Like. He feels PAIN when the model feels pain. He's fully fucking immersed in the experience. Even when there's like. Outside stuff like stream he still seems to forget the world outside the stream EXISTS. (Also part of my schizo headcanon)

SO LIKE! YEAH IF I COULD FEEL THE PAIN THE MODEL WAS FEELING YEAH ID BE A BIT OF A BITCH TOO!!

Cuz like. I've found myself getting ANGRY at things I genuinely find funny during really bad chronic illness days. So I just. I understand why Gordon feetman is such a dick now.

#hlvrai #hlvrai gordon #gordon feetman #clown’s honks #sorry guys i just like. i watched the nike's kicks video and got so fucking mad (its normally one of my favorite videos) #and then realized HEY. WAIT A MINUTE. GORDON FREEMAN WAS MAD AT ALL OF THE JOKES THAT WERE MADE BECAUSE HES IN PAIN!!!!! #And then i had the biggest light bulb moment ever. so i had to share it

[dinomite2]

Male Neo Agent 3 x Male Human reader (Platonic)

(I Made this gif !)

( idk why I'm doing this I'd just kinda liked this Idea I had)

■ Humanity civilization was starting to grow along with its technology and at a surprising rate and everything looked like it was starting to flourish

■ and at start of your life everything was simple and everything was nice and peaceful you lived a nice young teenager life and had great buddies and friends and had great parents and everything felt like it was a all good

Until Everything was Gone....

■ a war sprung out a massive one, bombs were being dropped, bullets were flying it was brutal for all of you

■ and during this Gigantic worldwide war a random big missle hit the arctic causing The ice there to melt and The whole world to be covered In a gigantic flood

■ some part of humanity including you rushed to their cryogenic pods to pass the time and hope that this worldwide disaster will end

■ but a sudden disaster hit the location of the cryopods and all seemed to perish except for yourself, you survived the entirety that moment and slept and drifted away for what the future could hold for you....

■ You woke up tired, groggy, feeling a subtle cold sensation all over your body you raised your body up and looked at your surroundings It was all just sand, sun and dust and large foundations made of slightly rusted metal and empty cryopods with survival packs on them.

■ You were worried about of what happened to the entirety of your home planet and to see all to turn into dead wasteland of its former peaceful life

■ But you Decided to not to worry about the now ,your new goal was to find human life and or survivors In this barren sandy wasteland and live to the fullest if you could so that is ,so you took a survival pack and headed off

■ You walked and walked and walked and walked until your legs felt like cooked spaghetti and your feet were like under-frozen jello And just over the far horizon you were about to give up and sit for awhile ....

■ But just right over the sandy horizon you saw ... A Human Head ! It was pure bliss to see another Face in this empty desert you Scream out in pure excitement and curiosity while waving your hands erratically

"HEEEYYY OVER HERE !!!"

*silence*

"Men Uniii!!"

"WHAATT"

"Un-nya-giiii!"

You squinted your eyes but still couldn't see who this lone stranger in the desert thanks to the blowing sand in the horizon, Then you walked up a few steps closer still curious to who's saying these randomized gargled like words

And it was ... wait what is that no seriously WHAT IS THIS PERSON it had two black outlines between their eyes and had yellow tentacles as hair and was wearing ragged white shirt.

"What are you?" You said slightly I fear of what this person is and probably what his intentions are

"Oomi!"

"Um Ok how do i do this? Ummm" you quickly questioning yourself of what to do in this current situation while the octopus person tilted their head in curiosity

" I " you said loudly phrasing and pointing to yourself

"HAPPY" you made an exaggerated smile by using your two fingers

"MEEEEET" waving out your two arms upwards

"YOUUUU" clasping your hands together Slightly causing the cephalopodic like stranger to be taken aback

" IT HAPPY TO SEEEE PERSON HERE YOU?"

"Uh its nice to meet you too?"

"Oh god you speak English too"

■ ok so that was an experience you were so panicked about what was happening around in this dry and sandy place , did you die? , are you in a dream?, is ANY of this real ?!.

■ You talked it out with this ..... Squid? Kid? Whatever this person is About where we're you and what this place and what his name is which was Neo

■But enough about you time to talk about Neo he was marveled about who you were and you pretty much said that you were a Human and he went insane upon you were revealed

■ Turns out that your kind was quite a popular thing around this world in museums and he asked if he could say a few and I mean few as in so much that your brain could explode

■ he asked about what you do , eat sleep or like or watch and anything that would be fun for him to know

"How do you eat? "

"Through my mouth "

"What does your hair feel like"

"fuzzy and .... hairy"

"Can I put my hand in your mouth?"

"No"

"Please?"

"No"

"Please?"

"No thats gross dude"

■ he also kind of have to hide you cause if anyone else knew about this who knows how this new world to you could react to this so he gave you a disguise and by placing a paper bag over your head and weirdly it worked!

■you also got few weird looks by some inklings and octolings by of course the paper bag and you walking normally but upon that you made it to his apartment

■ Now spending time as new permanent roommates would feel like a weird fever dream and you trying to get your bearings that half squid half human people were now the dominant species in your world

■ if you somehow have your phone intact and still powered on and still somehow have downloaded videos Neo will watch the HELL out of them Family guy ,Tmnt , Shaun the sheep he'll watch it all right

■ Please PLEASE NEVER introduce any squid or octopus related foods to this octoling will think that you'll eat him in his sleep someday and have some nightmares weekly if you even mention a certain ingredient in takoyaki balls

■ Neo will also take any simple thing that you do and take a extreme curiosity to what you do even if it was a simple human function of yours

■But overall you and Neo will be a great friends even with weird questions and high body differences he'll be like the Bro you never even had or knew! .

And that's it I hope you enjoy this new fan fic and of course stay cool stay safe and most importantly stay on the cool side.

And also two things sorry for the wait I was kinda occupied mostly by school again and should I make requests? soon ill make a poll about it but lemme know what you guys think about it.

#splatoon #splatoon 2 #splatoon 3 #splat3 #splatoon x reader #Neo agent 3

[dropout-if]

omg we get nsfw alphabets??? as a resident Kai simp i need that for them. If their drive even can be contained in just 26 questions🤭🤭

I've never thought this hard with my figurative dick before I hope it's worth it👁️🥺

Statler • Jean/Jade • Wanda

NSFW Below

A = Aftercare

Depends. Kai typically either dips or kicks people out of their bed, but they do like to smoke and chat a bit if their partner is someone they're close to.

B = Body part

Ass and thighs, Kai is not ashamed about it either— they know people like that about them too, and they love the attention. In their partner, Kai loves their chest area (boobs or pecs), which they like to squeeze, teasingly rub their face against, or play with their nipples.

C = Cum

Loves getting facials.

D = Dirty secret

Kai once slept with one of their past bully's now-wife. They claim it was an accident.

E = Experience

Very experienced. Kai has been with all kinds of people, and they know they're really good. Especially with their mouth.

F = Favorite position

Has many. Mostly likes legs to be spread wide open, thrown over shoulders, and anything on all fours.

G = Goofy

Kai is really unserious. They like joking around, teasing, pausing to laugh because they found their partner funny. Sex is a means to de-stress and they refuse to take themself too seriously.

H = Hair

Their natural color is the same as their pubic hair, dark brown. Shaves when they remember to. F!Kai is trimmed in a triangle shape. M!Kai is a bit trimmed. Both of them were originally Liv's insistence, and Kai happened to like it.

I = Intimacy

The least romantic person in bed. Kai prefers being called a ‘slut’ (gn) than a term of endearment.

J = Jack off

Kai is really into getting caught while they masturbate.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Exhibitionism, especially the whole ‘almost caught’ scenario. Though that is the thing Kai is the most into, they also like bondage/BDSM, brats, being edged and choked, pegging and dirty talk.

L = Location

Anywhere. Especially if it's semi-public (the balcony, public bathrooms…)

M = Motivation

Just the mere mention of sex, or someone desiring them gets Kai in the mood. Degradation and angry sex also work.

N = No

Things Kai would consider weird like pet play or age play.

O = Oral

Loves oral in all its forms. More often than not, Kai wants to make their partner cum once (or twice if they can) before penetrative sex. If they're in the receiving end, Kai is more than happy to enjoy themself.

P = Pace

Kai prefers it rough. Slow and sensual feels too intimate and romantic, and they tend to panic around that.

Q = Quickie

Loves quickies, Kai finds them very fun and will proposition to their partner no matter when or where. If there's a will there's a way.

R = Risk

Experimenting is something Kai is very open to. They don't mind trying new things and will bring up new positions and ideas to their partner from time to time.

S = Stamina

Kai is usually very lazy so their stamina isn't the best. They know how to save up energy and it's barely noticeable, though.

T = Toys

They own a few dildos (one of them is massive, a gift from Liv), vibrators, beads, ropes, a blindfold, and bullets.

U = Unfair

Loves teasing and driving people completely insane. Foreplay with Kai is almost a form of torture. They love to be the one teased too.

V = Volume

Kai can moan and groan and be very loud but it's typically an act they put on to stroke their partner's ego. They're normally quiet, though.

W = Wild card

For the longest time, Kai's grandparents assumed that Liv was their girlfriend, and they were very happy about it. Since then, Kai refuses to bring her around them.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothess)

M!Kai is average (7.5 inches) but they claim to “know how to use it.” F!Kai has an A cup. They also have nipple piercings.

Y = Yearning

Very high. Sometimes Kai's partner doesn't satisfy them enough and they're forced to masturbate afterwards.

Z = Zzz

Falls asleep almost like it's on command (5 to 10 minutes after).

#dropout if #dropout #ask #kai alofa #nsft #alphabet

[micamicster]

I Knew I Loved You Before I Met You

Have a Bucky scene! This is supposed to be the b-side to whatever much more serious story I was writing in Sam's pov (link to that snippet). As I will probably never finish these please don't take them seriously <3

Also this isn't canon compliant but Marvel isn't real you know

~

Sometimes he thinks Sam is the only good thing about the future. Sometimes he thinks that Sam’s everything good about the future. If there’s a difference between those two thoughts, he doesn’t have any better words for it.

When he’d first met Sam—well, depending on your definition, they’ve had several first meetings. By one definition he’d either ripped his steering wheel out through his windshield, yanked him out of the sky, or tried to put him through a wall face first. Bucky doesn’t really remember those ones. He just has to go off of the (obviously exaggerated and totally unreliable) versions Sam recounts when he decides to seize the opportunity offered by the question ‘how did you two meet?’ and make Bucky squirm.

If Bucky doesn’t remember it, he thinks it doesn’t count. Maybe it’s the first time Sam met him, but the first time he met Sam was during the year Sam and Steve were chasing him.

A year of drawing smaller and smaller circles around them as they sighed and fought and slept and drove and kicked the frozen rocks in the Hindu Kush or the Smokey Mountains, squinting into the sun like it had any clues to give them, anything at all. The first time Bucky met Sam, it had been through a rifle scope.

He’d met him in the air. Watched him from a hundred paces upwind twisting against the blue, soaring, looping around the sun. Sam eating tacos in the passenger side of a jeep, laughing at Steve’s beet red face and playing it off like he wasn’t coughing on the spice himself. Teaching Steve to fist bump, complete with explosion noises. Rumpled and serious over stacks of files in a diner, too late or too early for company. Dark eyes tracking bullet paths from sniper rifles he didn’t place, cautious in the face of Steve’s leaping optimism, watchful where Steve throws a wave or salute, reserving judgment. Sam.

Sam says these don’t count. Meeting someone according to Sam, who is casting himself as an authority on the subject, involves walking up to them, introducing yourself, getting their name, and shaking hands. “Two people gotta be involved! The time you watched me choke on an m&m through my bedroom window and didn’t even intervene, ain’t meeting, Boo Radley. It’s called stalking, and I’m adding it to your rap sheet.” Sam marches over to the poster paper hanging off the bathroom door and scribbles on it.

Bucky follows him, glowering. “By that definition, I’ve never met anybody.”

“By that definition,” Sam mimics. “Man, don’t give me that poor-little-orphan-boy act. What, they didn’t have handshakes in the 30s? Didn’t have names? ‘Never met anybody,’ You’re so full of shit.”

“Never met anybody important,” Bucky concedes, for the sake of the brief moment where Sam blinks at him. Sincerity always catches him off guard. Bucky has to be careful not to overuse this tactic or risk diminishing returns, but it’s worth it for his startled, wide eyes, the barely noticeable hitch in his stream of words.

In that moment of silence he leans over Sam’s shoulder to read the additions to the list. Stalking, and Watched me coughing for a full minute and didn’t break in to give me the heimlich. “I thought you were for prison abolition.”

“I’m not asking for jail time, I’m asking for reparations. I coulda died, man!”

Bucky lets his face go dour and gloomy in response to the teasing, a look that never fails to increase Sam’s enjoyment of a situation.

“Look out, Eeyore,” he says gleefully. “Your face might stick that way.”

“Too late. It froze like this in cryo.”

Sam’s delighted cackle is loud enough to attract Natalia’s attention, and Bucky carefully suppresses his reaction—his face might look blank and intimidating to others, but Tasha can pick out a mockable emotion at a hundred paces.

Her attention is enough to distract Sam, rerouting him into the kitchen where he starts fussing with the coffee pot. Bucky trails after him to hover silently in the doorway like an Eeyore balloon at the Thanksgiving Day Parade, avoiding eye contact with Natalia. She thinks she’s so fucking funny.

Good things about the future: Drunken noodles from Royal Siam with fresh basil and lime, extra spicy the way Sam orders it on movie nights. Losing at spades to Sarah and Cousin Jay, Sam blaming him for their downfall every hand of the game. Cass facetiming him from the kitchen table in Delacroix, history homework all spread out in front of him, both of them ignoring Sam shouting, ‘amnesiac, A-M-N-Something-S-iac, definition ‘he don’t know shit,’  you’re better off trying wikipedia,” from the couch.

“Man, just ask me.” Sam doesn’t bother turning around, but his amusement is palpable in the set of his shoulders, the back of his neck.

He sighs. “Who’s Bo Rad Lee”

The crinkle at the corners of Sam’s eyes, when he wears his smug stupid face. That’s a good thing about the future.

~

#here's to 10 years of HIM! #i need a writing tag if im gonna be posting shit but as yet i remain. uninspired <3 #tagging I GUess. #marvel #bucky barnes #sam wilson #sambucky #ok now that i've posted something and got it off my chest lets all go back to pretending marvel and i have never met <3 thanks <3

[multific]

Wounds and Crushes

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x Reader

Warning: injury

Summary: Going on a mission with your crush you were nervous, but you still have to act professionally.

It was supposed to be an in-and-out mission. Nothing complicated, nothing too difficult.

And while the mission itself wasn't difficult, try and be professional while your crush is right next to you, now that was difficult.

You wondered if Captain Price knew what he was doing by sending the two of you. 

You wondered if he did it all on purpose, at first Soap wanted to join but then the Captain made sure not to include him. 

And so, there you were with Kyle, or Gaz as you were supposed to call him while on the mission. 

But how were you supposed to be good at your job when all you could do was stare at his handsome face? How?

This was a temptation you did not need. 

And you suffered the consequences. You missed a shot, something you have not been doing for a long long time. 

And yet, here you were, your missed shot became a chain of events. You missed the shot, Gaz tried to cover you, which almost got him shot, but you moved him out of the way, which resulted in you getting shot.

You let out a groan as the bullet hit your shoulder.

And now, here you were, in a safe house with Kyle as he pulled the bullet out of your muscle and bandaged up the wound.

"Fuck!" you yelled.

"You shouldn't have pushed me out of the way."

"I was not letting them shoot you, Gaz." you gave him a look as he finished your shoulder.

"Rather me than you, Y/N." he said but you didn't reply. You knew he would keep watch while you slept a little.

You let your eyes close as you drifted off. 

You woke up to the feeling of someone touching your arm.

"We have to change your bandage." you heard a voice say, without opening your eyes you slowly sat up and let Kyle do the work. "You have a slight fever. Take this." you felt him hand you some medicine and water which you took. 

"Kyle,"

"Don't talk, you should go back to sleep, I'm keeping watch." you only nodded before laying back down.

---

You weren't sure how much time passed before you woke up again. Shouldn't be long as you woke up with a high fever once more.

Kyle was still by your side.

"You are so handsome you know that?"

His eyes snapped to you, you swore he nearly broke his neck looking at you.

"What?" he asked.

"You are so handsome. One time, I saw you in the training room, topless. I nearly fell, you are always so kind to me too. Handsome, sexy and kind."

"You have a crush on me?" 

"Crush might be an understatement at this point Garrick." 

"You have a fever."

"I always feel hot when looking at you, just it's usually lower than my chest."

"Oookay, Y/N, you need to take meds and sleep." he gave you water and meds, but you didn't let go of his hand after.

"Can you stay?"

"I never left." he said with such seriousness it made you even dizzier. With one last nod, you were off to sleep again.

---

You woke up the next morning. 

You did feel a lot better though. Your mind was clear but you couldn't recall the last evening after he bandaged you up.

Kyle was sitting by the window, looking outside, you assumed he didn't know you were up.

"Kyle?" you slowly approached him as he turned to you.

"Are you feeling better?" 

"A lot, thank you, I think my fever went down, we could move today."

"I already called Price, they are sending a chopper, a doctor will have to check you out."

"I-I feel like I'm good to go."

"I rather not risk your life, they can always send us on another mission."

"Sorry, I should have been more careful and not-"

"It wasn't your fault."

A very awkward silence fell between the two of you.

You sat with your back against the wall as Kyle looked out the window.

"Did I say something to you when I had a high fever?"

"No. You didn't say anything only mumbled."

"I always say something weird and you are acting strange, Kyle."

"Y-You said I..." Kyle let out a sigh, knowing he have to be honest. "You said you have a crush on me."

"Oh." you felt yourself getting heated, he never looked at you. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

"Is it true?" he suddenly turned to you, his eyes finally meeting yours. "Do you really like me?"

You nodded once.

"I do. I had a crush on your since-"

"Since you saw me training. You told me that. When you saw me train shirtless."

You cringed a little, you really need to learn to shut your mouth.

"Actually it started before that. When I joined the team and Price introduced us, you caught my eye. You showed me around base and made me tea. Usually, it would take much for me to like someone but you are special. And I understand completely if you don't feel the same. We can pretend this never happened."

"I actually do like you. From the moment Price showed your picture to us, and then we met. Ah, fuck it, let's go on a date. Once the doctor checks you of course."

"I would love to." you smiled as did he.

When the chopper landed, as you got on it, you looked at Kyle, offering him another smile. 

Maybe getting shot wasn't so bad after all.

You lied.

It was.

Don't get shot.

Don't be dumb, just confess to your crush and hope for the best.

Taglist: @fleursirvart​ @greenarrowhead​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @sincerelyfan​ @theoneanna​ @aestheticsandmarvel​​ @rororo06​​ @castellandiangelo​​ @destynelseclipsa​​ @spilledinkindumpster​​ @capsiclesdoll​​ @puknow​​ @alwayshave-faith​​ @soleil-dor​​ @alex12948​​ @lxdyred​​  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl​​ @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek​​ @praline357​​ @trshngyn​​ @avengers-r-us​​ @violet-19999​​ @top1bbgloak​​

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

             DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

#Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick #Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x reader #Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x you #Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick imagine #Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick imagines #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x you #kyle gaz garrick imagine #kyle gaz garrick imagines #kyle garrick #kyle garrick x reader #kyle garrick imagine #kyle garrick imagines #call of duty modern warfare #modern warfare #modern warfare imagine #modern warfare 2 #modern warfare II #call of duty #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #call of duty imagine #call of duty imagines #gaz x reader #gaz x you #gaz imagine #gaz imagines

[nkn0va]

What about a THIRD blazblue ask? :D And while idk if multiple characters are allowed per ask, I was lowkey curious about cuddling headcanons for Nine, Bullet, and Izanami with an S/O who has trouble sleeping due to stress or nightmares

You son of a bitch, I like the way you think.

Two asks with Izanami tho? Haru and Ann I can understand but how is IZANAMI the first Blazblue character to be in two asks? Whatever floats your boat, I guess.

Nine the Phantom

-For the sake of this ask, this will be set after the Dark War but before she's thrown into the Boundary and obviously she will not be into fucking cats. Seriously Mori, Jesus Christ on a cross getting stabbed by the fucking Romans...

-As a student of the Mage Academy in Ishana, naturally you're worked pretty hard. Alchemy, Sorcery, Magic, you need to learn it all if you want a shot at becoming a top Mage. Perhaps even one of the Ten Great Sages if you're just particularly built different.

-The end of the semester is no fucking joke. Projects upon assignments upon projects begin to pile up from all your different classes. It isn't long before all the caffeine and stress starts to get to you.

-During some ungodly hour of the night, Nine is walking through the dorm halls of the academy, noticing light coming from behind but one single door and quickly realizes it's yours. She knocks on the door before entering without waiting for you to tell her to come in, only to see you at your desk which is completely cluttered with papers and glass tubes to hold potions you're working on.

-Rightfully concerned (and a bit upset), she asks you what the hell you think you're doing up at a time like this.

-As you tiredly explain the situation to her, she finds her mild anger replaced by concern and sympathy. Being one of the Great Sages and largely leading the war effort against the Black Beast, she knew all too well what it was like to work yourself to the bone to get shit done.

-With a tone more akin to a command than anything else she tells you to get in bed. Reluctant, but too tired to argue at this point, you do as she says, only to get surprised when she gets in next to you, pulling you close.

-To no one's surprise, Nine naturally runs quite warm. If it happens to be cold in the future you know who you're spending the night with.

-Your face inevitably gets buried in her...you know what. Nine most definitely ends up giving a few teasing comments at that, but nothing else. At least not tonight.

-She's warm, soft, perfect for cuddling. Not what you expected from such a normally aggressive, assertive woman, but you're certainly not going to complain. It's not long before you finally feel the sweet relief of death sleep overtake you.

Bullet

-You were the only known survivor of Bullet's merc squad to have gotten out of the Nirvana extraction mission alive. Upon hearing your Captain was reportedly alive you joined your girlfriend in a heartbeat on the quest to find him.

-However, PTSD is a real bitch. Watching all your squad mates die right in front of you, at the hands of Azrael of all people no less, would take quite the toll on anyone.

-The two of you set-up camp for the night in the forest and try to get some sleep only for Bullet to be woken up by the sound of a sudden gasp and panting. She sits up to see you in a cold sweat.

-Upon asking, you reluctantly tell her about the nightmares that you've been having ever since the mission. You've always slept separately until now so this is the first time she's seen it.

-Bullet is...unsure of how to approach this. Racking together all of her brain power, the best thing she can come up with is to comfort you with physical affection. As a result she gets out of her sleeping bag and forcefully inserts herself into yours, burying your head into her neck.

-It's a rather tight fit in there, but it's nice. Bullet's definitely feeling her share of awkwardness, having never done something like this before, but she doesn't back down.

-You know she's trying her best to help you, and it's pretty sweet of her to do.

Izanami

-Being an NOL soldier is no walk in the park, especially one so high ranking as a byproduct of being the Imperator's lover. All the added responsibility overwhelms you the more and more you're cast up the chain of command.

-Izanami doesn't take too long to catch onto this and tries to remedy this the best way she knows how.

-One late night someone from Intelligence knocks on your office door telling you that the Imperator has requested your presence immediately. Normally you'd quickly piece together what she wants but you're so tired you don't have the energy to do even that as you trudge your way to her quarters.

-Izanami greets you once you're there with a soft, inviting smile, telling you to come in. She takes you by the hand and gently guides you into her bed, saying she's noticed how hard you've been working for the sake of the NOL.

-She gently runs a hand through your hair, shushing you if you try to protest and insisting that you finally get some time to relax. Her touch is cold, yet somehow comforting regardless.

-Her other arm goes around your body and pulls you as close as possible. With her hand through your hair and her soft, soothing voice whispering sweet nothings into your ear, you find it much easier to relax and finally get the sleep you desperately need easier than it has been in a very long time.

#blazblue #headcanon #relationship headcanons #blazblue x reader #nine the phantom #blazblue bullet #izanami #hades izanami #fluff #comfort #cuddles #x reader #anon ask #answered

[ad-hawkeye]

reading your thoughts abt alkaid brings me so much comfort and calmness. now im re-reading them to ease my bad mood cus i saw some take about him decribing how he's the type of person who slept around w others..... it's so ooc of him :(

SLEEP AROUND WITH OTHERS??? ALKAID??? ALKAID MCGRATH??? ALKAID "I WILL WALK OVER 3KM TO FIND YOU ANOTHER HOTEL SO WE'RE NOT IN THE SAME SUITE" MCGRATH?? THAT GUY?? THAT'S THE ONE WHO SLEEPS AROUND? ALKAID, THE GUY WHO WAS TOO SCARED TO EVEN TOUCH MC'S FACE IN A DREAM.

okay. i'm good. i got that out of my system. i think i had a. Reaction. to that take. like borderline allergic. anon. i just. wow.

OKAY BUT. I'M HONORED YOU LIKE MY POSTING!!! i am genuinely so, so, SO thrilled you enjoy them!!! that seriously means the world to me and makes me so happy!!! thank you!!!! ;_;

i!! actually wrote up a whole bullet list of why this take at the very least just. doesn't mesh well with his character. like yeah, respecting other takes and stuff, but it just seems like a bizarre headcanon to give to Mr. Hopeless Idealistic Romantic who has only ever given a shit about mc and -- okay, done. im getting STARTED AGAIN AND AA

#asks #anon #reminds me of the time my fav little guy literally looked at the camera and said 'you are the first person ive felt this way about' #and people still dubbed him as the Sleeper Arounder. which. on second thought. pretty similar situation/personality as alkaid. incheresting #the whole deal with alkaid (and also ayn) is that they're kinda like. #everyone wants them. but they only want mc. sorta deal #BUT SERIOUSLY IM SO HAPPY MY POSTS MAKE YOU HAPPY- WHICH MAKES *ME* HAPPY AND

[rokirokiro]

Shuichi Saihara x reader (he overworked again!)

bulleted headcanon, reader's gender is not specified so gn reader

cw : no proofread again as I immediately went back to study after writing this I'm sorry, platonic romantic kinda idk, probably bad English but it's my second or third language but uh oh.

this guy is canonically a people pleaser, sacrificing his time and sweat to make people happy (Danganronpa S, Ultimate Detectives interaction) (if I'm not wrong idk)

he would mostly spend his time working on his detective jobs, helping people on their missing nothings and give his detective intuited inputs for people who need his aid.

but this time, he worked himself a bit too hardly.

he woke up at 4 am, collecting materials for the crime case that he was given to. the case was harder than his usual and it took him hours of analytical thinking and he constantly made coffees to stay awake.

night before, he slept super late preparing documents for the same exact case too.

he undoubtedly has grown tired of seeing the same words and being not able to figure out things out of them, but as a committed detective, he considered it as part of his job and he took it very seriously.

he's the type that put others before himself, and in this case, he ignored his health and wellness to put an end to the case.

he neglected his well-being. like instead of eating actual meals, he stored a lot of noodle cups at his place as he doesn't want to waste his time making and eating a meal (what a Kanade Yoisaki from the hit game Project Sekai Colorful Stage ft Hatsune Miku move). not to mention he also do his job in his usual leisure time so he practically doesn't have time focused to himself.

and of course, as the good best friend you are, you constantly check on him and brought him foods when you have the time because years of friendship with this guy made you discover one thing about himself. a hardcore people pleaser. his inferiority complex doesn't help too.

but today, he's working outside so you two will be separated until the end of the day.

it was your usual evening, and you were strolling around (a place idk free imagination section), killing time and such. you were talking to Maki via call (see her as your close friend, please)

"Maki, I have an idea. let's go shopping at the town this weekend! I'm sure it will be super fun!"

"I got nothing to buy so I see no reason to. go ask for someone else, Saihara, for instance."

"but he's buzy! I can barely see him nowadays unless I go to check on him and serve him food!" you whines

"I'm sure he would ditch his work to go with you, (name)."

"Wwwhat are you talking about?? he's very determined into solving all his cases so that won't happening! don't talk nonsense, Maki!"

(Maki carved a little smirk without you knowing)

"right, but he will still go with you. that's the kind of guy he is, anyway."

"I don't want to tire him after all his detective wor- AAAH!"

you screamed into the phone right to Makis ear, resulting her pulling away from her phone and covered her ear with one hand.

"what the.. don't scream like that! what's wrong??"

"IT'S, IT'S SAIHARA! he's laying at the floor now! ah I'll hang the call now Maki!"

turns out, you found the said person laying unconsciously at the front door.

his face was kissing the ground, body completely facing the floor.

you took a breather and took a necessary move by calling out his name multiple times and shaked him a bit. but he remained not responsive.

you wanted to freak out so bad but you thought it wouldn't be wise to do that, so you started taking him by the shoulder and dragged him to his room.

his body weight made it harder for you to step forward but you weren't discouraged,

so you carried him bridal style to fasten the process instead.

after some time, the guy slowly opened his eyes to see a sight of a familiar ceiling, he's in his own room.

"what am I.."

he raised a hand and rub his aching beating head, probably the impact from his fall to the hard ground. he carefully brought himself to lean at the wall and recall what happened.

in the exact moment, the sound of the wooden door creaking made he turned his attention to the entrance. a familiar friend was pushing the door with a feet as the person carefully hold a tray of food into his room.

it was you.

you looked up to meet his gaze and your face brightens, quickly step foward to his bed.

"Saihara! you awake. I'm glad that you're okay."

"hold up, no you're not. you collapsed. what happened?"

"I bet it's because you're too into your work! oh and anyways, you should be eating first. we'll talk later."

you lifted a plate of Omelette to his lap and gave him a spoon and a fork, along with a glass of water that you put at the table by his side. you also prepared him some apple slices, too.

he wanted to answer you first, but the food before his eyes are super mouth watering especially when he starved himself since yesterday and only took those bitter coffee plus noodle cups. so he took a bite, and another, and another.

"I cooked that. it's delicious, isn't it? simple but I think you don't have the energy to chew on fancy meals anyway"

he nodded.

and embarrassed with the fact that you're gazing at his features as he eat. but that made him realized that you're super concerned of him and made him blush even harder.

you're such an angel.

he was eyeing on the apple slice but he took the water instead. you noticed this and smile a little,

"I know you wanted it. it's for you anyway."

"ah, yes.."

Shuichi shyly grabbed the apple slices and put a few in his mouth. the juices of the fruit filled the caravan of his mouth, refreshing his entire body.

he looked so cute like this,

after finishing his dish, he wiped his mouth with a tissue and put the plate on his table.

"thank you, (name). I think I did collapsed on my way here. did you brought me in too? thank you again, haha.."

"don't haha me, mister. how dare you neglected your health like that. maybe I should've follow you to your office and become your caretaker for the time being."

"ahahah, please don't be.., I finished the case so I won't be like this again. sorry for making you worried and troubled you, (name)."

his replies are weak

but your heart is weaker to scold him in his unstable state.

"it's alright, Saihara. but please don't overwork yourself again in the future."

you said as you put the cutlery in the tray, ready to be washed.

"ah and also!"

you faced him, who was seemed to be blushing. (but you didn't say anything)

"thank you so much for helping me, (name). I wouldn't know what to do without you. and for you to go as far as cooking something for me, I wish I could repay you.."

"....you can repay me by taking a rest, Saihara. and it's my responsibility to look after you, after all. I'm just doing my job here."

you removed your eyes and now looking at anything that's not him, red streaks are visible at your cheeks.

"and when the time comes, I'll surely take care of you too, (name). but no, actually no, I'll always do my best to take care of you as the returning favour too.."

and now you two are blushing like crazy. wahahah

you immediately excused yourself to the cafeteria/kitchen (whatever) and brought your tray with you.

"(name)!"

you stopped your tracks to see him, humming.

"well, um, can you come back after washing the dishes? I.. I think I haven't spend much time with you this whole time s-so I thought.."

"I thought I can reclaim the times now.."

your eyes were widen by the statement, biting your lower inner lip as a way to hold your urge to scream.

you're so in love with this man.

".. I told you to rest, idiot."

"but if, if that's what you want, then,,"

"I'll be back!"

you raced to the kitchen and did everything you need to, unknowingly smiling by yourself and excited to to return to him.

Extra : Maki called you and ask if hes okay and you three along with Himiko/or whoever went to the city anyway.

Extra note : bro why are my dialogues are always so corny ass like when I was about to write it I was like, this gon be the one but when I reread the sentence I was like, Gosh did I fr write this garbage kinda like conversation?? please don't bash me y'all.

another Extra note : where are the other Shuichi x reader writers please be active I beg I'm tired of refreshing the tag and see my same art everytime 😞

#shuichi saihara x reader #saihara shuichi x reader #danganronpa x reader #shuichi saihara #drv3 #danganronpa