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psychedelic-ink · 9 months

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𝐂𝐑𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘.

DAY SIX OF HAUNTED HOEDOWN

prompt: slasher au (still takes place in the tlou'verse) + sex in the woods or somewhere public (added bonus if it includes knife, blood, hunter x prey kink)

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni, soft dark fic, horror, murder mystery

summary: bodies have been dropping left and right in the most brutal ways in jackson. as the relentless wave of deaths continues, your mind becomes increasingly restless. however, you find a sense of comfort and solace in the presence of joel. who might be hiding secrets of his own.

word count: 10k (i don't know what happened)

warnings: dubcon at the end, knife kink, descriptive canon typical violence, blood & mild gore, grief and death, an unpleasant guy hitting on you, murder, face-sitting, throat-fucking, mutual oral sex (69), dirty talk, possessive!joel, exhibitionism (tommy watches very briefly, he also kisses you in a platonic way), sex in the woods, piv, Joel is actually quite nice if you exclude the murders, mild breeding kink, size kink, little bit of blood kink

a/n: the owl mask joel wears in this to hide who he is is inspired by @softlyspector's post about the tawny owl mug joel uses in tlou part 2 which I still get sad if I think about it for too long 😭

Bodies have been dropping dead all around you long before the outbreak.

Maybe not in the everyone-you-know-is-getting-infected-and-killing-people type of way, but more so in a death-never-felt-like-a-stranger-to-you sort of way. Yet, you still don’t know how to deal with death. Your grief is as violent as a butterfly flapping its wings; the strength of it non-existent but you never know where, or when, it’ll cause a storm.

First, it was your grade school teacher. You didn’t have a particularly strong bond with her but you did like her. You still remember how your friend's voice quaked as she gave you the news on a landline. You couldn’t believe it and had to accuse her of making a joke, even though you knew she would never joke about something like this. Then your dad took the phone from you and you just assumed your friend's mom did the same. The next week, when you went back to school and the funeral was now behind all the children in the classroom, the custodian cut the last tablecloth your teacher had used for her desk and gave a piece to each and every one of you. It was a vibrant orange cloth with daisies scattered around – ugly, but you still cherished it.

Then it was your pets, grandparents – there was also the time when your pet-crazed neighbor adopted another smaller dog while she still had two untrained, over-energized dogs, and the two twins ripped the other dog apart. You had seen the carnage. By some miracle, that small, fluffy dog named Sugar was still breathing, alive. You had held a blood bag over the dog's head, hoping that the small animal wouldn't die.

She didn’t die that day, but it sure as hell left a scar on you.

As a kid, you never seemed to quite grasp the ways of grieving. You didn’t get angry. You didn’t cry. You just. . thought about it. However, the emotions came differently when you became an adult. Now when someone close to you died, you felt it more violently, oddly enough you still fought against the tears and only cried when you were alone.

On Outbreak Day, you lost everything.

Your family, your friends—your life, now it was all about survival, but survival towards what, you didn’t know. You killed for it, fought for it. Yet every move you made felt automatic like you were wired to at least try and survive — to wait it out and not be left behind when civilization rebuilt itself once more.

You made some friends along the way and lost some friends too. You locked their faces and their memories in your heart, only unlocking the box when you were truly and utterly alone.

Then you found Jackson.

And you met Joel and Tommy Miller.

Your official title is scavenger but you much prefer to label yourself as an explorer instead.

You’ve adapted to your quite well life at Jackson. You go beyond the borders, sometimes alone and sometimes with other fellow explorers, and gather supplies or try to pinpoint other locations threats might be lurking in. You’re about to go on another trip, this one shorter than your regular one to two-week expeditions, but before heading out you decide to stop by the only bakery in Jackson named The Last Crumb—previously named The Cordyceps Crumb but Maria decided it was in bad taste. You, on the other hand, had found it funny and topical.

As you patiently wait in line, your camping bag waiting for you outside the bakery, someone bumps into you from behind, then never moves back.

You turn with a raised eyebrow, not enjoying the close proximity, “Excuse you,” you snap. The man looks at you with a hint of mischief in his eyes, you roll your eyes when you recognize the face. “Move back a beat Tucker, I’m not in the mood this morning.”

“Someone didn’t get her beauty sleep,” he grins but moves away regardless. “Want me to come with you this time? Sweet thing like you alone out there? It’s ain’t right.”

“You can barely aim. Why would I want someone that’s most likely to get me killed around me?”

“I think you’ll find my company to be plenty entertaining.”

You’re about to gag when the bell of the bakery chimes, the sharp sound echoing through the wooden walls. Your face must've shown immense signs of relief because Tucker turns around to see who you're looking at. His instant frown makes you want to laugh and chuck him between the two men you’d describe as a wolf den.

“Well, if it ain’t the Miller brothers,” Tucker tuts, attempting to give one of them a friendly pat on the shoulder. He stops midway when Joel’s gaze flits between you and him, his glare hard enough to cut diamonds.

So he ends up slapping Tommy’s shoulder instead, which isn’t the best thing since you know the younger Miller hates Tucker. But among the brothers, he’s probably the one with less probability of getting your hand bitten off.

“Mornin’ Tucker,” Tommy answers, forcing a smile.

Joel is less friendly, his words directed at you, “Is this dumbass botherin’ you again?”

“I wouldn't exactly call a greeting among friends “botherin’,” Tucker says. “We’re just catchin’ up, no need to get your panties in a bunch Miller.”

“God, you’re one word away from ruining my morning,” you hiss, glaring at the unpleasant man. “And we’re not friends.”

His brows furrow, eyes going hard with an ugly snarl accompanying them, you feel braver when Tommy and Joel are around so you hold his gaze, not flinching away.

Tommy is the one to ease the tension. He lays a hand on Tucker’s shoulder and squeezes, drawing the man’s attention away from you. “I’ll get you what you want a’right Tucker? It’s on me. Just go wait outside.”

“But—”

“Outside, Tuck,” Tommy repeats and you shudder at his tone.

Tucker’s shoulders drop, defeated, “Fine, get me a raisin bagel.”

He doesn’t wait for Tommy’s response and heads out the bakery. You finally release the breath you’ve been holding, your muscles relaxing along with the exhaled breath. Joel is by your side in the blink of an eye, his broad shoulder brushing yours providing comfort.

“You sure you’re a’right?” he asks, gently curling fingers under your chin. “The prick didn’t do anythin’?”

“Nah, nothing. He’s all bark but no bite. He asked if he wanted to join me today as if that buffoon wouldn’t get me killed.” you shrug, men being assholes was nothing new to you. You’re just glad that in Jackson it seems that there are more good apples than rotten ones. “Too bad even paradise comes with drawbacks.”

Joel snorts as Tommy cuts in, “Maria would be thrilled if she heard you calling it paradise.”

“What are you smiling at? You think you can find anywhere better?” You playfully nudge Joel with your elbow. “You know there’s nothing but hell out there.”

“I do, I just think callin’ here a paradise is a bit of a stretch is all.”

The line moves and the three of you are finally at the counter, “You’re just a grump,” you tease Joel before turning your gaze to Poppy, the barista who knows everything about everyone. “Hey there, Poppy, the usual please.”

“And a damn raisin bagel,” Tommy adds.

“Well, isn’t it my favorite trio,” Poppy grins. “I’ll get all that ready for you in a second,” she locks her blue eyes on you and leans closer, you mimic her by instinct. “By the way have you heard of Ian? He wound up dead right outside the chopping block, an axe right through his chest.”

You frown, “Good morning to you too, Poppy. Jesus Christ.”

“I’ll confess I didn’t love the guy but isn’t it worrying that there’s a killer among us?” she murmurs while stuffing the goodies in paper bags. “Be careful out there.”

“Well, if the culprit is here I think I might be safer out there,” you say and turn to Tommy. “Does Maria know?”

“Of course, she does,” when you part your lips to say more, he lifts a finger and shoots you a crooked smile. “It’s confidential.”

“Aw man, can’t you just tell us who she thinks it is?” Poppy asks, Tommy shakes his head and she lets out a dramatic sigh, “I miss my murder mystery books.”

“I’ll try to find you something while I’m out,” you say, ignoring the way your heart began to race. Jackson is still a small town, it’s jarring to think someone might be out there, looking for their next target. “Though I think we could all do with a little less murder.”

You hadn’t expected your voice to crack but your tone had betrayed you. Poppy extends you the bag of goods and a latte, as you reach out you feel Joel’s hand on your waist. His lips touch your ear. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I’m sure whoever it is is only goin’ after those who deserve it.”

You lock your eyes with him, blinking heavily at the weight of his words. His voice had dropped, nothing but gravel as he whispered the words into your ear. A cold sensation slithers down your spine, chilling you to your core and making your throat tighten.

His hand never leaves your waist as the three of you head out, and after a while, that chill slowly dissolves into a pleasurable warmth.

You find solace in the woods. You love Jackson, but being in the woods away from everyone and everything makes you feel comforted. The first time you went scavenging, there was a slight fear in your movements; no matter how good your aim was, any kind of infected was difficult to kill.

But now you walk with ease. There isn’t an ounce of worry in your bones. The trees rustle happily and the smell of flowers and pine fills your nostrils. You can feel your lungs rejuvenating with every breath. Trickles of orange sunlight pour from the gaps of the trees. The sun sets, meaning you need to set up camp soon.

While unpacking, you think of this morning. How Joel and Tommy stepped in when Tucker started bothering you. Honestly, you didn’t need their protection; Tucker is just one of those men who think they might have a shot if they bother you enough times. Still, it was nice to be claimed in a way, to be accepted into a family and cared for.

Your breath hitches slightly. Tommy, you see as a close friend, a brother perhaps, but Joel... Joel is another thing. Just thinking about him is enough to start a wildfire between your legs. You wish you were brave enough to do something about it, though. Whenever you two patrol together or stay awake late at night drinking, you always chicken out in the end. It doesn’t matter how his hands linger on your thighs or his eyes drop to your lips; you're just never convinced that the Joel Miller would be interested in you beyond a friend.

An unease starts to settle in the pit of your stomach. As the air grows colder with the approaching night, your skin prickles and you feel the phantom sensation of claws dragging down your back. You set the tent as quickly as you can, your eyes darting around the depths of the forest. Briefly, you bend over to adjust the ropes.

A breath warm and damp ghosts the back of your neck and you jump, gun in hand as you turn around only to find—

Nothing.

And no one.

Your heart is hammering in your chest, adrenaline pumping in your veins, a drop of sweat trickling down your forehead. You've never had a trigger finger, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't want to just shoot every shadow you see.

“Dammit Poppy,” you mutter, annoyed that she gave you the brutal knowledge of Ian’s death right before you were heading out. Guilt stings at your heart. Ian was an asshole for sure, and you don’t exactly feel bad that he’s gone, but still, it was an eerie thought that someone had murdered him so violently. It had to be personal.

Some part of you wishes Joel was here, or even Tucker, just another human being to tell you you’re just seeing things.

You take a deep inhale and follow it up with a long exhale. You’re fine. There’s no one here.

You give your surroundings one last suspicious look before going back to setting the tent.

No matter how hard you try you can’t shake the feeling of someone watching you amongst the shadows.

Joel hears crickets and owls. The night had always been his friend since the outbreak. He had become a violent man with an equally violent heart. He waits in the shadows, watching. Laughter and playful shouts echo from the bar, and soon the door swings open; the man he's been waiting for crawls out of the establishment, shit-faced. The drunk man shouts his farewells and staggers toward his home.

Joel follows, his mask heating up the skin that lays underneath. His fingers itch with the need to wring that asshole's neck. One by one, he had been cleaning Jackson for the better. His tendencies subdued while also doing some good. Ian was one of those people who deserved it and Joel had enjoyed the chase, the pleas, he especially enjoyed the way he tripped and cried right before he sunk the blade of the axe through Ian’s chest.

Tucker trips, making Joel want to laugh. The idiot might not even realize he’s being hunted. Joel looks around, they are far enough for the chase to begin. Tucker continues to slip and fall as he attempts to get up. Taking the opportunity, Joel walks towards him with quick steps, making sure the first thing the asshole sees is his mask.

Tucker notices him before he gets up, his hands bracing the ground, his eyes go wide, “What the fuck?”

Joel only tilts his head. He sees the trembles rolling down the other man’s body, he relishes in his fear.

“Look man, I don’t want any trouble, whoever the fuck you are so. . . scram.”

Joel’s eyes dart to his hand on the dirt, without a second thought he lifts his foot and curb stomps Tucker’s hand. Then he kicks the side of his face, an audible crunch echoing before his scream could. The man whimpers and falls back in his attempt to crawl away. He holds his jaw, blood streaming down his broken nose.

“Who the fuck are you?!”

He steps closer and watches as Tucker’s eyes bug out. He’s too drunk to properly run away or even scream. Such an easy target. He grips the other’s hair and lifts him to his feet, he can feel the strands starting to rip from his scalp one by one, Tucker’s face twisting in pain. “Your worst fuckin’ nightmare,” Joel answers eerily calm. It doesn’t matter if Tucker recognizes him. He’d be dead soon enough anyway.

“P-Please,” he begs, realizing the same thing. “I’ll do whatever you want promise. I don’t want to die.”

Joel grunts, not dignifying his pleas with an answer. Lifting his other hand, his knuckles connect to Tucker’s face with a loud crunch, body flying to the ground headfirst.

He pulls out his knife and drops down, ignoring the ache in his knees, he grabs Tucker’s arm and aligns the sharp blade against his wrist. Tucker notices, his face going pale as a ghost. “D-Don’t—”

Joel doesn’t bat an eye as blood spurts violently over his clothes and the dirt. Drops of crimson seeping into the fabric. The knife cuts through the flesh like butter, severing hand from bone. His hand clamps over Tucker’s mouth. Joel smiles as his screams bounce off of the palm of his hand.

You come back to Jackson hand empty and earlier than intended. You were too much at unease, and being so jarred wasn’t the best while scavenging for supplies alone. During your trip, you did end up scribbling something for Poppy. It wasn’t finished but you hoped she would enjoy the first draft of the first chapter. It was mostly descriptions of what you felt, a cat-and-mouse game between two people who had bumped into each other accidentally.

While heading into Jackson, you notice a crowd in the distance. You promptly get off your horse and walk with haste. You recognize Joel and Tommy easily, both brothers standing on each end of the crowd like gates keeping a herd of sheep in check. Ellie is standing right next to Joel, lifting herself on her toes to see; Joel is holding her back by gripping the cap of her hood.

“What’s going on?” you ask.

Joel turns to you, his eyebrows raising when notices it’s you and not some random person he has to ignore, “You’re back,” he says. A statement rather than a question.

“Yeah, wasn’t feeling that well,” you shrug him off. “So what happened?”

His eyes turn to steel, his jaw locking in place. Before you can ask again, he gestures for you to move up the crowd with a tilt of his head.

“Lucky,” you hear Ellie murmur as you walk ahead, gently pushing those who were looking at the sight with concern. With every step you take, the murmur of the crowd fades into the background, becoming nothing more than white noise. Maria is addressing the crowd, you think, though you're not entirely sure. The scent of blood is thick in the air, disorienting you as you get closer.

Your eyes go wide, the earth slips from beneath you but your expression remains emotionless.

It’s Tucker.

You feel as if you’re standing alone. As if you’re the only one taking in the sight of absolute horror and gore. Tucker is lying in a pile of his own blood face first, his eyes are open and lifeless, his one hand is outstretched like he’s about to crawl away.

His right hand, however, is chopped off.

It’s not even a clean-cut. The edges of his flesh are jagged and crooked, his blood-caked where his hand should be. Whoever did this cut it so it would hurt, so he would suffer tremendously.

You can’t help but gasp, covering your mouth with your right hand. You begin to shake, confusion churning in your stomach as bile coats your tongue. He’s dead. Just like Ian.

When Maria’s eyes find your own, she narrows her gaze, a small warning for you to keep it together. You can’t though. How could you? Tucker was alive and kicking a couple of days ago, just being his annoying self around Jackson.

“Calm down,” you hear Joel mutter into your ear. You shiver at the brush of his lips. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

Safe. You want to laugh. You don’t even know what that word means anymore.

Joel’s mouth moves over the shell of your ear, “He was a nuisance. Don’t feel bad now that he’s dead.”

“I didn’t want him to die,” you hiss back. “And knowing there’s a serial killer out there doesn’t exactly make me feel safe.”

Despite your half-angry tone, you find yourself leaning into Joel’s presence. Your shoulder presses into his broad chest, and without missing a beat he wraps his arms around your shaking frame. Relief comes in the form of warmth spreading along your chest, tingles forming at the tips of your fingers and toes. The voices of the crowd gradually come back but you only hear one of the many questions.

“What do you think the message means?”

Confusion crosses your face, brows furrowing as you try to make sense of it. Joel makes a choked-out sound that could’ve easily been taken as an amused chuckle.

Then your eyes drop to Tucker’s outstretched hand and his dying message written in blood.

O W L

A week had passed since Tucker’s death.

You've been thinking about both murders relentlessly, trying to piece together everything that you know so far. During this time, you're grateful for Poppy, who comes by almost every night to help you try to solve the case. That's been your sole focus for the past few weeks; you haven't been scavenging since you spooked yourself so badly that you returned early, only to find Tucker dead.

Some part of you thinks that the eeriness you felt that day was a sign of what was about to happen. It's also an odd coincidence that he ended up dead the same night he harassed you in the morning. However, there are no forensic investigators in Jackson, so it’s almost impossible to determine the exact time of death. That fact alone makes you anxious. It only means that whoever is killing everyone has nothing to worry about because even if they leave traces, who’s going to know?

In order to keep your nerves in check you end up writing a lot. You haven’t shown any of it to Poppy yet but you’re excited. You never thought writing a thriller would be the perfect way to escape the horrors of your actual life. At least in your stories, you have control.

You also visit Joel and vice versa.

Something had shifted the day he held you as you both gazed upon Tucker’s lifeless body. Maybe it was just you who felt bolder since death was once again right around the corner — or maybe Joel just felt more protective now, wanting to check on you as much as he could.

“You’re really writin’ a whole ass novel?” he asks, pouring you a glass of scotch. You still can’t get over the fact that it nearly tasted identical to the actual stuff. Jackson is truly a miracle; at least when bodies aren’t dropping left and write.

Ellie’s at a sleepover, which means you and Joel have the whole house to yourselves. With everything going on you’d expect your libido to diminish a bit but it’s as strong as ever, ready to go.

You smile as he places the glass in front of you, “Yeah,” you say, picking up the glass and heading toward the living room. “I couldn’t find Poppy anything to read and it helps me relax.”

“Relax, how?” he asks, taking a seat next to you. The couch dips with his weight, and heat crawls up from your chest to your neck when his knee brushes against yours.

“Well, it’s a horror thing. Horror slash mystery? I don’t know—whatever it is, it’s nice to have an outlet to escape what’s been happening lately.”

“So to escape brutal murders you write more brutal murders?”

You chuckle at the way his eyebrows raise, eyes going wide, “I don’t really focus that much on the gore. It’s more psychological, my sweet brute. Things don’t need to have blood to be scary.”

His grin is wide and instant, dark eyes lighting up with amusement, “What did you just call me?”

“I. . .�� Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him, suddenly realizing what you’d said.

“What cat got your tongue?” he teases. Joel leans closer, fingers dancing along the curve of your shoulder. You can feel the gravel in his voice. “You just called me yours, sweetheart. Does that jog your memory?”

“I also called you brute,” you quip back immediately, cheeks aflame. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Don’t it?” his palm now presses fully into your shoulder, keeping you in place in case you might run. Joel tilts his head slightly, the plush of his lips only an inch away. “I like you callin’ me that,” the pink of his tongue swipes over his bottom lip. “Say it again.”

“S-Say what?”

A small chuckle parts his lips, oddly enough it almost feels like his patience is wearing thin. He comes closer, the tip of his nose brushing yours. “That I’m yours,” he clarifies. “Been waitin’ to hear those words come from your mouth since I met you.”

“You’re mine,” you whisper against his lips, eyelids fluttering but not quite closing. With the confession, you feel the brush of Joel’s lips on yours. His tongue traces the seam of your mouth. You part for him with a moan, and taking the opportunity, he slides inside, tasting every inch of you.

His lips taste and feel like the forests you wander off to; it soothes you, calms your nerves, and has the taste of home. They’re chapped from the sun, yet soft. You can’t have enough of him, if he’d offered, you’d gladly kiss him forever.

Joel parts with a shaky breath, his chest heaving, “And you’re mine,” he groans, his eyes dark with arousal. It’s an involuntary action but your eyes drop to the front of his pants where you see the thick outline of his cock.

Your mouth goes dry, yet you manage to speak anyway, “Are words all you’ve been waiting for?” It’s bold, you’re highly aware, but you can’t help it when he’s this close. His scent suffocating, pulling you to him like a moth to a flame.

He stares at you silently. His thumb touches your bottom lip, slightly tugging it down. He’s not smiling anymore, only observing.

“No,” Joel answers slowly. He leans towards your ears, the thick hairs above his lips tickling your skin. “I’ve also been waitin’ to feel that velvet tongue on my cock, honey. And to feel how tight your throat gets when you take every inch of me.”

Joel blows a puff of air, it caresses your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He brings your hand to the front of his pants, dragging your palm up and down his length. You shudder. The heat of it seeps into your palm despite the thick fabric of his jeans, you lick your lips absentmindedly. “This is all for you sweetheart.”

“Fuck, Joel. . .” your eyes roll back when he kisses your neck, open-mouthed kisses laid upon your skin like a gift. Your nipples tighten and if you look down right now, you know you’ll see them peeking through your shirt.

He reads your thoughts, eyes moving down before meeting your gaze again. “Didn’t know you walked around without a bra, sunshine.”

“I only go braless when I’m comfortable,” you answer. Joel cups your breasts roughly, kneading the flesh, he simultaneously sucks on your neck, teeth nipping the sensitive skin. “Oh god,” the fabric of your panties grows damp and you clench your thighs together.

“Not god,” he says sharply, sinking his teeth into you. “Joel.”

“Joel,” you moan and arch your back, filling more of yourself into his palm. You squeeze his cock, relishing in the way he makes a strangled sound. “I want to suck you off, Joel.”

“Be my guest.”

You push him until he’s lying on the couch. You’re about to unbutton his jeans but he stops you.

“Turn around,” he says.

“What?”

His wide grin nearly stops your heart, “Want to taste that sweet pussy, sunshine. Strip down and take a seat.”

“On—On your face?”

“Where else?”

You’re too embarrassed to speak, tongue suddenly too big in your mouth. Quickly, and a bit clumsily, you strip down and turn before straddling his chest. You don’t need to touch yourself to know that you’re soaked.

You swallow, “I’ve never done this before.”

His hands come up to cradle your hips, urging you to move back towards his face. You feel the blunt sting of his nails.

“That’s alright,” he mutters. “I won’t let you fall if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m more worried about how I’m gonna move, or accidentally suffocating you.”

“What a noble way it would be to go.”

“Joel!” you laugh, playfully smacking his thigh. He answers by giving your hips another squeeze, you surrender and move back until you’re hovering over his face. Your hand planted firmly over his hip bones, you lower yourself. You shudder as his tongue licks a stripe between your folds. He moans into your cunt, pulling you flush against his face.

Meanwhile, you finally unzip his pants and pull his cock out, the heft of it bumping against your nose and lips. You drip at the smell of him and swear he smiles as he sucks on your aching clit, short-circuiting your brain with arousal. His cock throbs in your palm, a drop of precome glistening at the tip. Your mouth watering, you lean forward and clean him off. Another groan echoes within his chest and he thrusts forward, the tip of his cock kissing your lips.

Eyes fluttering closed, you suck on the bulbous head and force yourself to go down until he hits the back of your throat. You wrap a hand around the base, stroking where you can’t fit, and hallow your cheeks.

“Come on, sunshine. You can take me,” he rasps. “You’re mine, aren’t you? That mouth is meant to take me.”

Without waiting for an answer, Joel pushes his tongue inside, your walls clenching around the wet muscle—you let out a loud gasp and grind down, then you feel the sting of his palm against your ass, pain blossoming from where he smacked.

Your throat rattles with a moan and Joel takes the opportunity to drive forward, your eyes go wide as you feel the length of him sliding down your throat, cutting the air from your lungs.

“Oh, fuck—” he moans unabashedly, the sounds sending a pleasurable tingle down your spine despite the strain on your throat. “That’s it, sweetheart, just like that. Fuck, fuck—”

Your throat tightens around him, your lungs starting to burn. His hand caresses both sides of your ass, the abrupt pain of the smack from before subduing, “Relax,” he says, swirling his tongue around your clit. “Breathe through your nose. Just a bit more. . .”

Your nails bite into his thighs as you attempt to follow instructions. You relax your throat and slowly begin to breathe from your nose. It’s still difficult, but your lungs rejoice in the minimal amount of air that comes through. You make a mess of him. Saliva dripping from the corner of your mouth and down his length.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he murmurs. “Gonna fuck that pretty throat now and make this pussy come, understood?”

Eyes tearing up, you nod. From the way your stomach convulses, you know that you’re close, your skin tight over your trembling muscles. The nod is all that Joel needs from you. Holding you in place, he snaps his hips forward, burying himself completely down your throat while flicking his tongue against your clit. You scream around him, eyes rolling back as he continues to devour you and take you apart at the same time. He licks you with fat strokes of his tongue, a hint of teeth scraping your folds here and there as he fucks your throat with shallow thrusts.

You’re limp against his broad body, allowing him to use you as he pleases while all you can do is hang on for the ride. Pleasure licks the base of your spine, a searing heat caressing your skin while Joel continues to build you up only for you to fall spectacularly. Your lips start to ache, your throat squeezing around him whenever he snaps his hips forward—

And all hell finally breaks loose.

You come undone with a devastating cry only for it to be muffled by his cock going down your throat. You gush around his tongue, soaking his facial hair and mouth, Joel is underrated, licking and sucking until you’re shaking above him, every bit of tension draining from your body.

Joel comes shortly after, his hand slides from your waist and he manages to reach out in order to hold your head down. You don’t have a choice but to swallow as he spills down your throat, thick spurts of come going down while he shudders and pushes even deeper.

There’s so much of it, cock twitching and throbbing in your mouth until your mouth sucks him dry. You’re lightheaded from the lack of air; you find that it adds to the pleasure that’s buzzing in your veins, your cunt still pulsing with the heft of him still buried in your lips.

He pulls out with a satisfied groan and you manage to scoot down so you’re straddling his chest instead of head. Joel caresses your back, the gentle repeated motion sending tingles down your spine.

“That’s was fuckin’ amazin’,” he says, voice hoarse. “Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” you answer sounding meek. “I think I need some water though.”

You get off, legs still shaking, but he grabs your hand, halting your movement. “Let me get it for you,” he says, sitting up.

“I’m already up,” you smile as his brows furrow with worry, the expression warming your heart. You quickly bend down to kiss him and he’s quick to lick himself into your mouth, tasting himself on your tongue. “I’ll be right back.”

You have no idea how you’re standing while feeling like jello but you manage to get yourself all the way to the fridge. You smile at the coolness touching your warmed skin when you open the door. Scanning the interior, you thoughtlessly rub at your throat in an attempt to soothe the ache a little. You grab the pitcher of cold water and notice a bit of apple pie left over.

“Hey, Joel?” you call out. He hums in acknowledgment. “Can I have a slice of pie?”

His humored chuckle follows through, “You can eat the whole damn thing after what you’ve done,” you smile and take the desert out. “Can you bring me a slice too?” he adds.

You smile and place the pie on the counter. The leftover is already two slices give or take so you decide to just take two forks with you instead of dirting a plate. Looking through the drawers, you try to remember which one is the cutlery drawer.

On your second try you find something else.

Something that makes your eyes go wide and heart throb painfully.

Your hands shaking, you pick up the owl mask from the drawer. The surface is smooth, and the color of it a light shade of brown just like a tawny owl. All the pleasant tingles fade away, the buzz of pleasure in your veins replaced by fear and adrenaline.

Heading back to the living room, you show the mask to Joel.

“What’s this?” you ask, your voice betraying your sudden outburst of fear.

Joel looks up, eyes flitting between you and the owl mask. He raises a brow, his confusion evident across his face. “It’s a mask, sweetheart.”

“No no, I know it’s a mask,” you answer, breathless. “But why do you have it?”

“It’s Ellie’s,” he stands up, his pants still unbuttoned but pulled up. You fight the urge to step away, fight the urge to flinch when he touches your cheek. “They were makin’ Halloween masks last year in school. I didn’t even realize we still had it.”

“Really?” you ask and he nods.

“Really,” Joel claims your lips in a chaste kiss, thumb stroking lines up and down your cheek. His hand slithers down your arm to your wrist and when he squeezes, you drop the mask. “Why?” he breathes into you. “Is this about the damn thing Tucker wrote down?”

You remain silent and he pulls away, dark eyes boring into yours.

“You need to relax, sweetheart,” he mumbles. “Why don’t you just allow yourself to enjoy this? You deserve to be happy.”

Your eyes widen with surprise, his words crashing into you, “I. . . Do I do that? Really?”

“It’s normal, darlin’,” he answers. “I’m pretty sure we all have survivor’s guilt.”

You let out a shaky exhale. He’s right. You were just feeling guilty of being alive when so many had died. Joel smiles back and traces the curve of yours with his fingers. “There’s that smile that I adore,” he guides you towards the kitchen. “Now let’s go eat some pie.”

No matter what though, you can’t help but turn back to look at the owl mask one last time as it lays lifelessly on the floor.

“So, tell me about this book you’re writin’?”

You let out a low laugh, “I already told you about it. What more do you wanna know?”

You stare at Joel’s back as he takes the lead, he’d decided to join you in your explorations ever since you told him how nervous you had gotten the last time. You had appreciated the gesture but still felt a tad anxious around him ever since you found that damn owl mask—

A branch snaps into two under your steps and he turns, extending his hand to you. With a smile you allow him to lace his fingers within yours, your stomach jumping a little as he tugs you close so the two of you are walking side by side instead.

“If memory serves me right we got distracted when you told me about it,” he says with that southern drawl of his. “So tell me again what it’s about.”

“Okay okay,” you smile, squeezing his hand twice. “It’s all a big mess now but the premise is that there’s this guy obsessed with this woman and he stalks her and no matter what she does, she always feels like there’s someone watching.”

Joel looks ahead, “Sounds familiar. Isn’t that how you felt last time you were out here?”

“Yeah, and it’s when I started writing it.”

“So do these two people know each other?” his tone drops, his fingers suddenly feeling like barbed wire within your hand. You swallow. “I mean in their regular lives, does the woman know that he’s the one stalkin’ her?”

You roll your shoulders, a weak attempt to shrug off the eeriness that you feel.

“Exactly. I think that just makes the whole thing creepier. He’s just a normal guy, even a friend, but he’s also the one among the shadows.”

“Interestin’,” he murmurs. “You think that’s happenin’ to you?”

“I don’t think there’s someone stalking me, if that’s what you’re asking,” you utter every word hastily, your pulse quickening under your skin.

His lips curl in a half smile, “That’s good,” he says. “Wouldn’t want you to be laying awake thinking about what might lingerin’ on the other side of the window.”

“I think I’m more likely to stay awake thinking about infected,” you say with a soft laugh. “But yeah, it’s all fiction. That day I probably just got scared because of what Poppy said about Ian.”

“Probably,” Joel trails off, his steps slowing. “How do you think it’s gonna end?”

“W-What?”

He stops and so does your heart. At least you think it does.

Joel faces you fully, his presence towering, he grips your shoulders and pushes you back until the air is knocked from your lungs by a tree right behind you. Your eyes go wide. He leans in, breath tickling your lips.

“How do you think your book is gonna end, sweetheart?” he asks again, eyes gleaming with something dark. “Is the guy gonna get the girl?”

“I—I don’t know.”

All you can think about is the owl mask and how it would perfectly fit his face. He cocks his head and taking a step closer, he slips a leg between your thighs. Slick gathers at your underwear—he feels the fabric dampening on his leg and grins.

“Fear turns you on doesn’t it?” he purrs. “Wicked thing.”

Relief drowns your senses. So that’s why he got all weird suddenly, he’s just teasing you. With a laugh, your head falls back against the tree trunk, “Jesus Joel, you scared the shit out of me.”

“It ain’t my fault,” he says, nipping at your chin. “You’re easy to scare.”

“Well, two brutal unsolvable murders will do that to a girl.”

Joel lets go and pulls away, smiling as he shakes his head, “What’s it gonna take for you to believe I had nothin’ to do with those? Even in death, Tucker causes nothin’ but fuckin’ trouble for me.”

“You don’t need to do anything, I’m sorry,” you pull him back, relishing in the way his strong arms wrap around your frame. “I’ll stop being such a chicken, promise. I’m still a bit jittery that’s all.”

“I forgive you,” he says against your lips, kissing you quickly before pulling you away from the thick trunk of the tree. “Now let’s find a place to settle down for the night.”

When you two return to Jackson three days later, the first thing you notice is the crowd. Your stomach drops at the familiar sight and instinctively you reach out to Joel, lacing your fingers together. He squeezes your hand two times.

The last thing you should be feeling is relief that now it’s not possible for Joel to be the one killing all those people but alas, that’s all you feel. Relief and love.

The trade fair sprawls before you. Stalls with makeshift awnings, tattered banners, and worn tarps create a patchwork quilt of colors, beneath which a diverse array of goods is proudly displayed. The air is thick with the scent of freshly baked bread, the tang of cured leather, and the earthy aroma of herbs. Laughter, chatter, and the occasional clinking of metal form a lively symphony, a chorus of life that drowns out the ever-present background hum of death and infection.

You’ve always enjoyed the time of the trade fair. People move like busy ants, weaving between the stalls. Children, their cheeks dusted with earth, dart through the crowd, their carefree laughter that should be comforting doing the opposite. Since Tina’s death— she was one of the council members— you had been sleeping at Joel’s. Neither he nor Ellie seemed to mind you staying there.

The purpose of the fair is to exchange goods – to exchange, to connect, to share stories of survival.

Your eyes scan the crowd for Joel's familiar silhouette. He and Ellie had headed out before you since you wanted a change of clothes. Just as your gaze begins to falter, a voice reaches your ears. "Hey!" It's Poppy, she waves you over.

You navigate your way through the bustling stalls until you stand before Poppy. She's leaning against a rough-hewn post, a glint of excitement in her eyes.

“Hey, Poppy,” you greet her with a smile. “I’m looking for Joel, or Ellie, have you seen either of them?”

“Well, Ellie is with Dina, hanging out,” She points to the forest that skirts the settlement. "I saw him heading that way not too long ago."

“Alright, thanks. I’ll see you later then,” Waving her off, you head after Joel.

The trees are a bit more scarce here, there’s more room between them. The forest opens up, revealing a sprawling expanse that stretches as far as the eye can see. It's a stark contrast to the dense woods you often travel to, where the trees stand like guardians, their branches interlocking in a tapestry of shadow and light. Here, the gaps between the trees create pockets of sunlight that dapple the forest floor.

However, the expanses between trees can be deceiving, and without the markers and familiarity of the well-trodden paths closer to home, it's easy to lose your way.

For some reason instead of calling out for Joel, you decide to wander aimlessly. You’re not sure why. You don’t come to this side of Jackson often enough to feel comfortable with your surroundings and shouting his name would definitely be easier than walking without aim.

Soon enough you hear faint murmuring beckoning you deeper into the forest.

Survival instincts kicking in, you slow down your steps, making sure to step onto clear dirt instead of gravel or fallen branches. Hiding behind a rather large tree trunk, you stare ahead. In the distance, you see two men: one with his back against the tree, while the other holds him by the neck, the sharp blade of his knife catching the sunlight and reflecting it directly into your eyes.

You hold your breath and your eyes go wide. You hear the thrum of your heart. It’s the killer. It has to be.

You can’t quite hear them but you can decipher the tone of begging for one's life. The man holding the knife tilts his head slightly, your mouth waters at the prospect of finally seeing the murderer's face—

It’s the mask.

The same mask you found in Joel’s home in the shape of an owl. Your stomach churns violently, bile raising to your throat as you watch on. You rub at your eyes, take deep breaths—anything you can think of that would erase the image before you.

Goosebumps raising across your skin, you shake your head. It can’t be Joel. He was with you the day Tina died and no matter how competent he was not even he could be at two places at once.

A muffled scream echoes within the forest and your eyes snap to the two men, the owl had driven his knife into the flesh and bone. He pulls it out, and the body falls. You recognize who it is; Jacob. You heard his name a couple of days ago from Ellie, he was bothering both her and Dina because they were hanging out.

He’s still alive when the killer stomps his head in, blood splattering across the leys.

You’re frozen in place. Your throat dry and tongue motionless. The killer kicks Jacob one last time for good measure and finally stops. You observe the way his shoulders drop as if a great weight had been lifted off of them, then he looks up into the sky, the golden sun highlighting his mask.

Very slowly, he lifts his hand and takes it off.

Every feeling comes rushing back, too fast and too soon. Your tongue is alive again and so is your body, the world is suddenly vibrant with life and horror. The sun continues to caress the countenance of the unmasked killer’s face, his sunkissed skin the perfect canvas to soak up the light.

Joel.

You take a step back, every thought of precaution dropping from your mind. The forest starts to spin. It spins and spins and spins until the ground slips from beneath your feet. You catch yourself at the very last second.

When you look up you see his gaze staring directly into yours.

“Fuck,” you hiss out, quickly staggering up. The last thing you see before you start running is his extended hand as he tries to reach out for you.

“Wait!”

You don’t. You do the exact opposite of that. You run. You run for your life and those in Jackson at the fair.

You run with memories loud in your mind. How Joel had listened to you, comforted you, fucked you—

Tears sting your eyes. Every part of this feels like a nightmare that you hope to wake up from anytime soon. But as the wind hits your skin, you know that every part of this is very much real. Your chest burns from how fast you’re going, your legs starting to falter underneath you.

Before you can react, an unexpected force slams into you. The impact sends shockwaves through your body as you collide with something—or is it someone?—their presence as jarring as the jolt itself. Your momentum falters, and for a fleeting moment, time seems to slow as you stumble, desperately trying to regain your balance.

Two arms grab at you and without even seeing who it is, you start to push the person away, fighting against it like a wild animal.

“Let go of me! Let go of me!”

“Hey hey hey,” you hear a familiar voice repeat. “It’s me, you’re okay,” you’re shaking all around, only when you feel his hands cradle your cheeks do you open your eyes. He smiles when he sees your eyes flicker in recognition.

“Tommy?” you whisper. He nods and without a thought you jump him, wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging him close. His arms coil around you in response, promising to not let go. “Oh, thank fuck it’s you.”

“What happened? Are you alright?”

“I—I am okay but—Joel—It’s Joel, Tommy he’s been the one behind all those murders. We need to warn everyone, we need to tell Maria!”

You grab his arm and tug him along toward what you assume is the right way out of the forest. He remains still. Turning around, you shoot him a confused glance. 'Tommy, we need to tell people.'

“Can’t let you do that sugar, sorry.”

“Why. . . Why not?” you let go and slowly step back, heart pounding. “Is it because he’s your brother?”

You wish that was his excuse. Some moral obligation towards Joel because he’s his brother, that you can relate to. Your heart still pounds for Joel and in your brain, you’re still desperately seeking an explanation.

But Tommy allows the silence to linger, your fear and worry quickly turning into anger.

“Fine, I’ll tell them. It’s wrong.”

It only takes a blink of an eye; you feel Tommy’s iron grip around your wrist, yanking you back into his chest. He holds you. Oddly tender for someone who had made your arm nearly fall out of its socket. You thrash within his arms, pulling and hitting his chest.

“We’re doing good,” he grunts. “You gotta see that.”

You refuse to listen, your ear narrowing on the sound of your own blood rush instead of his words. By some miracle, you manage to slip your arm out and punch him square in the chin. It was a weak punch but strong enough to startle Tommy.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart, calm the fuck down—” he tucks your arm back against your body and turns you around so your back is flush against his chest. You’re breathing raggedly, chest rising with every deep gulp of air. His lips touch your ear, his tone menacing, “I really wish you would’ve not done that.”

“Why?” you gasp. “You’re gonna kill me too?”

Silence follows, and with every passing moment sweat beads on your forehead, “It was you wasn’t it?” you continue. “You killed Tina. Joel only came along with me to calm my suspicions.”

Before Tommy can confirm your suspicions, you notice movement within the forest and your eyes are immediately drawn to the shadow coming forth.

“Smart girl,” Joel remarks with a half smile as he emerges from between the trees. There’s a splatter of red over his shirt but the knife seems to be tucked away. For now. “But you’re only half right, darlin’. I came along because I like spendin’ time with you.”

“Is that supposed to make me ignore the fact that Jacob’s body isn’t even cold yet?”

Joel curls two fingers under your chin, lifting your gaze while Tommy continues to hold you back. You shudder against him, a soft sound parts the younger Miller’s lips.

“He was a piece of shit,” Joel grunts. “He was botherin’ Ellie, callin’ her names, he deserved what he was gettin’.”

“So what, you guys are just playing hero? Killing everyone who’s causing trouble in town? There’s a system for that.”

“Honey,” he tuts, an involuntary warmth spreading within your abdomen. “The system didn’t work before the outbreak, it ain’t gonna work now either.”

“We protect our own,” Tommy says from behind you, breath fanning your neck. “We take care of it before it escalates. You have to understand that.”

“And why the hell would I understand?” you hiss, looking directly into Joel’s eyes while addressing Tommy.

Joel smiles, his lips curling slowly, “Because you’re one of us. And you like it when we protect.”

Your lips part with an exhale. He’s right, not that you still agree with them killing people, but you had enjoyed that primal protection coming from the Millers. It made you feel powerful, loved, cared for. All the things you craved deeply.

You ignore Joel and his words entirely, averting your eyes with embarrassment and shame.

“I just don’t understand why you did it, Tommy” you murmur. Tommy tenses behind you, his arms tightening around your frame, drawing the remaining oxygen from your lungs. “I understand the other’s to an extent but Tina didn’t do anything wrong.”

Joel looks towards Tommy, it was his kill after all and the older Miller had nothing to say about it.

“She was wrecking what Maria is tryin’ so hard to build,” he answers. “She’s pregnant, stress ain’t good for her or the baby.”

“Does. . . Does Maria—”

Tommy cuts you off, “No.”

Joel leans closer, mouth an inch away from yours as he parts his lips. “I killed for you,” You hate the way your body reacts to him, wanting to close the distance between you two despite how unsettled you feel. “Ian was a piece of shit, so was Tucker and Jacob. They don’t deserve your empathy, honey. And you can’t deny that you’re glad they’re gone.”

His hair is a delightful mess. Soft locks going in every direction. All you want to do is thread your fingers within and forget about all of this. Joel’s gaze is observant, dark eyes darting all over your face. You don’t know what he sees but whatever it is, he nods to Tommy for him to let you go and he does. Legs lifeless and shaking, he catches you, his warmth welcoming. He’s still tender with you. Hands delicate as they move over your arms, shifting you so you'll be facing Tommy.

Joel’s hand curls around your neck and holds your chin so you can’t look away. You can’t read Tommy’s expression. You’re not sure what he’s feeling. However, you think he looks almost relieved that you’re not fighting anymore.

You shudder as Joel drags his lips down your neck, taking deep breaths of your fear-induced scent. His hands slip under your shirt and cup both breaths, making you squeal. Your objection is short-lived when he brushes his thumbs over both nipples, awakening them with slow strokes.

Tommy’s gaze drops to your chest.

“He’s been watching you, you know,” Joel says. “When I had things to settle in town it was him who looked after you,” his voice drops, eyes observing his brother. “I think he deserves a bit of a show, don’t you think?”

The whimper you let out is enough for Tommy to meet your gaze curiously. Joel smiles into your skin and your eyes widen as he pulls out a knife—a different one from the one he used on Jacob, you realize with relief.

Your breath hitches as he slides the knife under your shirt and cuts your shirt clean from the middle, exposing you completely to his younger brother’s eyes. Sudden arousal pools between your legs and you clamp them together suddenly, the movement not unnoticed by either of them.

“You like it when my brother watches?” he asks loud enough for Tommy to hear. “You got a little crush on him too, sweetheart, hmm? Don’t worry, he’s always goin’ to be lookin’ out for you. That’s what family does after all.”

Your neck strains as Joel tilts your head suddenly, claiming your lips in a violent kiss. He doesn’t wait for you to part your lips for him and pushes his tongue into your mouth, licking the surprised sounds of pleasure right from your mouth. Your heart skips a beat. He presses the flat side of the knife against your warmed skin, the chill of metal settling in your bones.

When he parts away, a string of saliva connects you still. “You’re mine aren’t you?” Joel groans, lips moving over yours.

You nod in a daze and he smiles, “And I’m yours too,” he says.

Your eyes meet Tommy momentarily, the younger Miller’s lips twitch in a half smile. He doesn’t say a word as he closes the distance.

Tommy cradles your face tenderly, urging you to come close as he envelopes your lips with his own, taking you by surprise.

The kiss lacks the intensity compared to Joel’s. Tommy caresses your cheeks with both thumbs. You don’t even feel his tongue, it’s just a gradual movement of lips, a type of affirmation and comfort.

“You’re one of us now,” he says pressing his forehead against yours. You don’t know how to react or what to say and you end up just nodding, your hands fisting his shirt. Him, parting away from you almost feels painful but you’re not sure why. Tommy gives you a smile and Joel a nod before he leaves.

You and Joel stand like that for a while, in complete silence, bodies flushed together, knife still resting over your stomach.

“I only did what was right,” he breaks the silence. His tone isn’t one of asking for forgiveness or understanding. His arms tighten around you. “Are you afraid of me?” he whispers into your ear, the thick hairs above his lips tickling the shell of your ear.

You don’t answer him.

“You don’t need to be,” he continues. He allows you to move within his arms, you want to see his face, you need to see him to not fear for your life. You ignore the knife grazing your skin as you turn around, your bare front snug against his chest. “I’ll never hurt you. And you’re the only person in this whole damn town that can say that. You and Ellie.”

“What about Tommy?”

“Tommy’s priorities lay elsewhere.”

He doesn’t allow you to inquire further about what he means by that. All you can detect is a hint of anger that quickly dissipates when he claims your lips once more.

You’re lost in him. His tongue captures you in a way that makes you forget the blood on his clothes—on his hands. His tongue slides against your own, pressing until you’re moaning into his mouth, your knees faltering at the knife smoothing down your skin.

Before pushing you down to the ground, he takes off the shirt he cut in half completely off of you, your bra following the pile on the grass. Your breath hitches as he takes his place between your legs, his mouth devouring your neck, “Joel. . .” you moan, fisting his shirt and grinding up to feel at least a bit of friction.

A silent laugh seeps into your skin, his breath sending shivers up your spine, “Do you still feel bad for them?” he teases, laying a wet kiss between your breasts.

You don’t think much as you answer, “No.”

And as a reward, Joel closes his lips over a nipple, sucking hard until your breathing goes ragged.

“That’s my girl,” he groans, moving towards the other pebbled flesh. “You’re too good, too kind, but they don’t deserve that sweetheart.”

He hooks his fingers into your belt loops and tugs down your jeans, laving you with soft, ticklish kisses as he moves lower and lower. When you’re completely bare to him, you have the urge to cover yourself, the grass tickles your back and the wind feels colder now. Joel smiles and pulls your arms away. He lays the knife right above your stomach and your breath hitches.

“I want to taste you,” Joel says. “But not in the way you think, darlin’,” he kisses the sensitive skin right adobe your belly button, and brings the sharp edge of the knife to your skin. “I want to taste the life that pumps through your veins.”

Your eyes widen as he nicks you. It’s a small cut and blood beads at the wound instantly. He doesn’t allow it to gather enough so that’ll trickle down, he quickly presses his lips against it, your essence coating his tongue as he gives it a tender suck. You can the blood leaving your veins, a pleasant tingle echoing from the wound and spreading throughout your body. Your eyes flutter, a moan escaping your lips as he flattens his tongue against the cut and licks with board strokes.

“Fuckin’ delicious,” he rasps, pushing two fingers into you with ease. You gasp at the sudden stretch, your back arching into his touch. “So darn wet—All this for me, sunshine?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out, grinding down. “Joel, please—”

You hear the sound of his belt buckle coming undone, his breath heavy in your ear, “Since you asked so nicely, sweetheart, I’m obliged.”

You feel the head of his cock brush against your entrance, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. Your eyes close in anticipation and you whimper as he slowly slides inside you inch by inch. You can feel it, that intense fullness that can only come from him, taking his time to make sure it feels good. His size is intimidating but you feel yourself melting around him, eager and willing.

“That’s it. . . you’re takin’ me so well, such a tight little hole for me. Fuckin’ amazin’.”

He presses his forehead against yours, nipping at your bottom lip before thrusting, sending a wave of pleasure that makes your toes curl. You cling onto him for support as he pumps deeper and faster, hitting all the right spots. It takes neither of you long to climb the edge, ready to fall. You can feel the warmth of his breath, and his grip tightens on your hips. His pace quickens as the intensity builds, and you clench around him as he groans your name.

“Gonna come inside,” he slurs his words. “Gonna fill you up—shit—”

You can feel him throbbing and pulsing inside of you, his hard length contracting. As he pushes deeper into you, your insides flutter, squeezing around him. Your orgasm is ripped from you, shattering and mind-numbing. Your head spins and you cling to him, afraid that the world underneath you might slip entirely. His hot come warms you from the inside out, spilling from where his cock stretches you.

Joel remains inside until he starts to soften. He pulls out of you, leaving you feeling a longing ache deep within your core. You shudder as his come trickles down your thighs, your cunt clenching around nothing.

“Such a pretty sight,” he murmurs, entranced, as he gathers himself over his fingers and pushes it back inside you. “Try to keep as much as you can inside.” To emphasize his want for it, he slides your underwear up your legs.

You’re tied to him now. And even though you shouldn’t, you enjoy being the one near the beast. Joel helps you dress, at least helps you with what remains, and gives you his leather jacket to wear since your shirt is in ruins. Neither of you says a word as you walk back to where Jacob’s body rests. You help him bury the body, not feeling a single thing; no grief, no remorse, no sadness.

You always did have a complicated relationship with death after all.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #tlou fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic #hauntedhoedown

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rollingsins · 1 year

Text

all hers, part xv

summary: Richie pays R a visit.

warnings: (+18), Tara is Ghostface, mention of murder.

word count: 4.4k

a/n: god bless hd scream vi Tara gifs and you all for being patient for this chapter ;)))

It’s a mad struggle down the staircase. You kick. Bite. Try to scramble for your whistle but it’s no use. Richie’s too strong.

He wrestles you down through the kitchen. Kicks open the back door and it’s there you take your chance. Kick up between his legs. Hard.

Then scream for help.

“Tara! Dad! Tara!”

The grass is cool against your bare feet. You scuffle through it, trying to fling your way back into the house.

But Richie recovers too quickly.

He launches forward, his eyes wild, his hand snapping back over your mouth.

“Shut up.” He says, urgently. Takes you back in his arms, roughly. It hurts. His grip is unforgiving. You can already feel the bruises start to form. Your mouth aches with the weight of his hand. But it’s the last thing on your mind.

You struggle once more, harder.

“Shh.” He says, eyes wild, “I’m not going to hurt you. I told you, I just want to talk.”

You try to bite down on his hand. Face soaked in tears. He doesn’t even flinch. Stares back at you with wide eyes.

“I’m going to remove my hand.” He says, voice slow, “And you’re not going to scream. Okay?”

You give up the struggle, slightly. Nod.

He removes his hand.

Immediately, you scream.

“Tara!”

“Stop!” He hisses. He grabs you by the shoulders, shakes you hard, “Stop yelling. I’m not here to hurt you. I just want to talk about Sam.”

At this you blink. Tilt your head. Your ears ring, body aflame. Heartbeat still in your throat.

“What?”

Suddenly, your mind runs wild.

“What’s wrong with Sam? Did you hurt her?”

“She kicked me out.” He says, eyes wide, mournful, “She thinks I did it. Tried to kill you or whatever. But I didn’t. You know I didn’t.”

You stare back at him a moment, disbelief flooding through your face.

This is what he wanted to talk about?

“Most people pick up the phone when they want to talk,” You snarl. You step back from him, “They don’t break into people’s homes and drag them outside kicking and screaming.”

“I’m sorry,” He says, mournfully, and he sounds like he means it, “I’ve had too much to drink. I just saw you and panicked-”

He looks terrible. Unshaven. Dark circles under his eyes. You don’t see a weapon in his hand. You swallow.

“Let me go inside.” You say, trying to reason with him, “Let me go get Tara and then we can talk-”

Richie shakes his head, violently.

“Tara won’t believe me. She’s the one who started this whole thing. She’s the one who poisoned Sam against me. But you and me, we’re friends right? We sometimes talk. Like that time in the kitchen.”

“Richie-”

“I didn’t do it. I swear to you. I’m not Ghostface. I’m not a killer. I could have killed you right now, but I didn’t.” His eyes are wide, earnest.

“You just kidnapped me instead?” You hiss.

“No one’s kidnapped, we’re talking. Like civilized adults.” He says as if he actually believes it.

“Richie, you broke into my house.”

“I didn’t break into your house,” He says, gesturing wildly to the backdoor, “The door was wide open! I just walked inside.”

At this you pause. Turn to look at the backdoor. You’d locked it yourself. Triple checked. No doubt Tara had done the same. Your Dad had attached pad-locks for extra security.

You see it now, tossed away in one of the flowerbeds, broken in two. Your chest seizes.

“Then what do you call that?” You hiss.

Richie blinks. As if it just occurred to him it wasn’t broken on purpose. He stares back at you.

“It wasn’t me.” He says, “I promise it wasn’t me. Why would I lie? If I’m Ghostface why not just kill you right there on the spot? If I’m Ghostface, why am I trying to reason with you?”

You stare at him, heartbeat in your throat. He doesn’t look like he’s lying. Eyes wide, pleading, begging you to believe him. It occurs to you suddenly you’d never heard of a Ghostface attack without the costume. It occurs to you Ghostface definitely didn’t drag his victims outside and ask you to phone up his girlfriend for him.

The realization sends a shockwave like ice water down your spine.

You’d called out to Tara. Not once, not twice, but three times.

Tara who insisted you carry a rape whistle. Tara who followed you into the bathroom because she was scared someone would attack you mid-pee. Tara who hadn’t let you out of her sight since that first attack.

Tara comes when you call. But there’s no sign of her now.

“Tara.” You murmur, eyes ablaze.

Shock flushes through your body. Adrenaline follows it. Before your brain can even register what you’re doing, you’re shoving Richie out of the way with all the force of a star quarterback and rushing back into the house.

You fumble for the whistle, blow it hard as you race up the staircase.

“Tara!” You scream.

It attracts the attention of your Father. He’s opening his door, eyes wild, shotgun in hand when you reach the top. Your Mom peeks out behind his frame, bleary-eyed.

“YN?” Your Dad asks, panic surging through his face.

“My bedroom! Tara!” Is all you’re able to get out as you try and sprint past him. He catches you, grips your waist.

“Let me go.” He insists.

He all but throws you back, shotgun cocked. And then moves faster than you’ve ever seen him move in your life. Richie’s behind you, red-faced as you follow your Dad down the hall.

The bedroom door is closed. Your Dad kicks it open, his shotgun raised.

And you almost bawl at the sight in front of you.

Tara’s there. Standing only in your nightshirt. Face flushed red with anger, her eyes wild as she struggles against her attacker.

The Ghostface mask stares back at you. He has Tara in a vice-grip, his arm around her throat, knife tilted to meet the skin of her neck. He tilts his mask like he dares you to come closer.

Tara’s eyes lock with yours. You watch as the anger drains, instead replaced with fear. Desperation.

“Stay back, baby.” She insists, her eyes pleading, “Don’t come any closer.”

Your lip quivers. A fresh wave of tears flood down your face. Your mother gasps, hand tight on your arm.

Then, Tara looks at your Dad, “Shoot the fucker.”

“No!” You cry out. You launch yourself forward. No thought in your head but to stop the pellet from leaving the barrel. To stop him from shooting that awful thing anywhere near Tara.

Richie grabs at you, pulling you back.

Ghostface tuts. Then that awful, hair-raising voice speaks out, “Shoot me and you shoot her. Is that really what you want, Dad? You really want to take YN’s darling girlfriend away from her?”

You sob. Struggle in Richie’s arms but his grip is too tight.

“Let her go,” Your Dad says. He’s eerily calm, his grip steady, “Let her go and we can talk. You can tell us whatever it is you need to say.”

Ghostface’s grip tightens. The knife grazes Tara’s throat. Close enough to break skin if he pushed down any harder. You watch helpess.

“You mean they haven’t already told you?”

Ghostface’s mask tilts. He’s smiling behind it, you can’t see it but you know.

Tara moves in his arms, trying to break free.

But Ghostface is stronger. He’s bigger. She looks so small in his arms, so fragile. He’s holding her up so high she’s on her tip-toes. He tilts his knife to her neck.

“Move again and I’ll slit your throat ear to ear,” Ghostface growls, “And then who will protect her?”

Tara stills, almost immediately. Her chest heaves. A fresh wave of tears spills from your eyes.

“Dad, do something.” You beg. It’s no use. You know he can’t. The shotgun pellets will hit Tara too.

“Do it,” Ghostface eggs him on, “It’s the least she deserves. Do you want to tell him, YN? Or should I?”

“Let’s everyone just calm down,” Richie interlopes as if he’s the voice of reason. You can smell the whiskey on his breath, his words slightly slurred, “We can talk about this. Mister Ghostface - I’m sure whatever Tara did to you, it can be resolved-”

“Shut up, Richie.” You and Tara hiss at the same time. He shirks back. Loosens his grip on you.

“I called the police,” Your mom pipes up, her voice wavering, “They’ll be here any second. You best let the young lady go or they’ll catch you red-handed.”

“The police?” Ghostface sneers, “You think the police are of any use? Seven murders in this town and not a suspect on the board. Seven murders and-”

He doesn’t finish.

Your Mom’s interjection gives Tara the opening she needs.

With all her might, you watch as she slams her body back, tilting Ghostface off guard. His grip on her loosens, but only for a moment. Then his grip on the knife tightens as he tilts his hand and plunges the knife into her stomach.

You scream.

Tara slumps to the floor, knife inside her buried to the hilt.

Richie’s strong grip around you is suddenly weightless. You pry him off, ignore your mother’s screams as you surge forward. Ghostface has abandoned her, his weapon gone. He charges for the open window in a mad sprint.

The drum of the shotgun deafens you as it rings out. Your Mom’s screaming doesn’t subside. The shatter of the glass of the window. You don’t see as Ghostface rushes out through the opening, knife abandoned. You’re at Tara’s side, prying her off the floor and into your arms.

Sobbing as you stare at the flow of blood oozing out of her stomach.

You don’t feel your Dad’s hands on you, desperately trying to pull you up.

You feel her. You feel the weight of her body against yours. Her chest heaving. You feel the spill of blood against your hands, feel her fall limp against your side.

Every sense you have; sight, touch, smell, sound is on Tara.

“Baby,” You murmur, voice thick. Her breathing is steady. Blood gushes from the wound in her stomach, “Baby, stay with me. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

Tara tries to open her eyes. They’re hooded. She’s far-away, barely there. In pain.

You sob.

“Tara?” Your Dad’s voice booms. He tries to shuffle you out of the way, “YN, let me see.”

But you only clutch onto her tighter.

He abandons the cause, not long after.

He’s speaking to your mother, instructions, maybe, but you don’t hear him. You grasp Tara’s face with your bloodied hands, try to bring her back to you.

“Tara, baby, stay with me please-”

You don’t remember much else.

You remember the flash of police bursting into your bedroom, guns drawn. You remember the hands on you, trying to pry you away as Tara slips into unconsciousness.

You remember your own screams.

But then it’s nothing. Blank. The night a total blur.

And now there’s nothing but the quiet beep of Tara’s heartbeat monitor.

She’s clean now, not a drop of blood in sight. Tubes wrapped around her arms, in her nose.

She looks almost peaceful, if not pale, her eyes still closed in her hospital bed.

It’s you who looks like a mess. Eyes red, still wet with tears. Her blood all over your hands, your shirt, your face. But you won’t move. Plastered to her side.

“YN-” Says your Dad but you cut him off.

“I’m not leaving until she wakes up.” You say, voice shaky, but firm.

He sighs.

“The doctor said she’s going to be fine-”

“Does she look fine?” Your voice trembles, a little. He rubs your shoulder.

“Alright.” He says, sinking back down into his seat, “I’m just saying when she wakes up, I doubt she’ll want to see you here covered in blood.”

“She’ll want me here,” You murmur. Brush her hair out of her eyes, “Doesn’t matter what I’m covered in.”

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Richie hovering in the hallway. Hands pressed against the glass as he peers in. He's still drunk. A wave of irritation floods through you.

“Can’t you get rid of him?” You ask.

Your Dad growls. Stands and marches to the door, “I’ve got rid of him four times already, that boy is like a gnat-”

He doesn’t finish.

Sam’s barrelling through the doorway, Richie hot on her heel. She all but rushes to Tara’s side, eyes wide and mournful.

“Oh my god, Tara.”

“She’s going to be okay,” Your Dad says preemptively, “She lost a lot of blood, but the ambulance got there on time.”

If Sam hears him, she doesn’t acknowledge him. She dips down, takes Tara’s cheek in her palm.

“Oh, Tara.” Her voice shakes. She leans in, presses the softest kiss to Tara’s forehead.

Then she rounds on Richie.

“What the hell happened?”

“It was Ghostface, Sam, and it wasn’t me.” He looks to you, wildly, “Tell her it wasn’t me-”

“And what the hell were you doing then?” Sam asks. Her voice shakes again, but this time it’s out of anger. She smacks him, hard.

Then again.

“What the hell were you doing while he was carving up my sister?”

Your Dad intervenes, pries them apart. You don’t take your eyes off Tara. Press your nose to the side of her face, willing her to open her eyes.

“Everybody needs to calm down!” Your Dad’s voice booms out, “This is a hospital. Tara needs rest. She doesn’t need to wake up to find you two screaming at each other.”

Sam abandons the fight. Her lip trembles. She walks back over to Tara’s side and sinks down next to her.

“What happened?” Sam asks you, softer. Her eyes are round, she’s desperate for answers. You rub Tara’s limp hand with your thumb.

“He got into the house somehow,” You begin. You can see Richie out of the corner of your eye. His face is pleading. Pleading you not to tell the truth, “Richie came to um- talk to me. We were on the lawn and I saw someone broke the lock to the backdoor. And then I realized he was in the house.”

“Ghostface?” Sam asks, eyebrows knit.

“He had a knife to her neck by the time we got there,” You say, taking a shaky breath, “He must have taken her by surprise. She had a gun, but she didn’t use it. God, I don't know how she didn't see him coming-”

“Unless she wasn’t expecting it.” A new voice sounds out.

Your head snaps up.

It’s Mindy, leaning against the door, looking serious.

“Unless it was someone she knew.”

Chad and Liv are with her. They don’t hover, move to Tara’s bedside. Liv squeezes your shoulders, drops down into the seat next to you. Chad hovers at the end of her bed, looking mournful.

“Is she going to be okay?” He asks, eyes wide.

You nod.

“The doctor said she’ll be awake soon. Anytime now.”

You bring the back of her hand to your lips. Hope your words will awaken her.

“See their face?” Mindy questions, eyes squirting.

“Obviously not,” You snap. You’re not in the mood to play Nancy Drew.

Mindy hums as she takes a seat next to Sam. She doesn’t waste any time.

“Okay. Updated suspect list. We know it wasn’t YN. We know it wasn’t her parents-”

“Why would it be my parents?’ You interject, eyebrows furrowed but Mindy waves you off.

“We know it wasn’t Richie. We know it wasn’t me-”

“Hold on.” Chad says, “We don’t know that.”

Mindy gawps.

“Chad. I’m your twin sister-”

“You weren’t with me, I don’t know what you do in your spare time.”

Mindy stares a moment. Then shrugs.

“Valid point. I know it wasn’t me. Liv and Chad-”

“We were having sex.” Liv pipes up, “It wasn’t us.”

Mindy wrinkles her nose.

“Convenient. And also gross. But if they’re vouching for each other that leaves one.”

She turns to Sam. Sparkle in her eye. Sam stares back at her.

“You can’t be serious.”

Mindy raises her hands.

“Everyone’s a suspect. Even family. Especially family.”

“You think I’d hurt my own sister?” Sam says, voice raised, “My baby sister?”

“Your anger is making you a little suspicious.” Chad admits, quietly.

“Sam would never hurt Tara, it wasn’t her.” Richie says from his spot by the door.

“Shut up, Richie.” Sam snaps, “I don’t have time for this. Where are the police? I want to talk to them.”

“By the coffee machine,” You say, voice gravelly, “Same ones that were posted outside the house.”

“Fat lot of good they did,” You Dad sneers. Sam stands, makes her way to the door, “I’m coming with you. I want a word with that so-called Sheriff.”

Richie trails behind them like a lost puppy. Your rub your eyes, trying to quell the rainfall of tears behind them. Tara looks so small like this. Not two hours ago you’d been wrapped up in her arms and now she’s here. Unconscious with a three inch stab-wound in her stomach. You kiss her hand once more and take a deep breath.

If she needs you to be anything now, it’s to be strong for her.

Mindy reaches into her bag, slaps down a folder and opens the first page. It’s a spider-web of names, dates and pictures. Like an information board at a police station. You stare down at it, then blink up at Mindy.

“What’s that?” Asks Liv, peering over.

“Dude.” Chad says, as he slips into Sam’s empty seat, “You really need a girlfriend.”

“Do you want to hear what I’ve found or what?” Mindy asks. Chad peers down at the folder.

“Sadie. Aaron. Chase. Dan. Amber-”

The back of your neck prickles. A familiar wave of anxiety flooding through you. You’ve been here before. With Wes.

You interject before she can go any further.

“Yes, congratulations Mindy. You've worked out the people who were murdered.” You snap.

“Let me finish.” Mindy says, sounding impatient, “They’re linked. I promise they’re linked.”

“They all went to the same school.” Liv nods, helpfully.

Mindy shoots her a look, “No, dumbass. I mean yeah, but that’s not it. Think about it. What do they all have in common?”

Your heartbeat speeds up.

More than ever, you will Tara to wake up. She’d know what to say, what to do. If the three of them work it out right now, Tara will wake up handcuffed to her bed and you’ll be long gone. Locked away in some far away jail cell.

Chad furrows his brow.

“They’re all teenagers?”

Mindy sighs. Points to an underlined name in the center of her folder.

“Sam babysat them. All of them.”

You’d laugh, but it’s not really that funny. You’d cry, if you had anymore tears left in you. You let out the quietest of sighs. For all her diagrams, Mindy's nowhere close.

Chad and Liv look dubious.

“Come on,” Mindy says, gesturing to her folder as if she’s just solved the mystery of a century, “Think about it. It makes sense. Sam’s always been- angry, and maybe this was her endgame all along. She’s been building to kill Tara. Like the grand prize. Seek revenge on all the brats who made her teenage years hell. Tara was maybe the brattiest of all of them.”

“I don’t know, Mindy,” Chad says, “It seems a little far-fetched.”

“It seems a lot far-fetched.” Says Tara, voice groggy.

Her voice jumpstarts your system.

You sit up, clutch her hand a little tighter. Her eyes are a little hazy, her voice tired. But she’s awake. Your stomach flips. Relief floods through you. You lean in close, press your lips to her forehead.

“Baby,” You say, closing your eyes as you breathe her in, “Are you alright? How are you feeling?”

You pull back, clutch her face in your hands.

“I’m fine.” She says, though she doesn't sound it, “What happened? Did you get him? Ghostface?”

You shake your head. Sink back into your seat, take her hand with you as you press your lips to the back of it.

“He got away.”

“Did you see anything?” Mindy asks, voice urgent, “Anything at all. Ghostface was in the bedroom, they can’t have snuck up on you-”

Tara tries to sit, her face betraying the amount of pain she’s in. You climb into the bed to sit a little closer, wrapping your arm around her shoulder.

“You were gone too long,” Tara says, looking up at you, “I left the bedroom to come find you and then he grabbed me. He was already in the house.”

“How did he get in?” Chad asks, looking confused, “YN, you said your Dad bought alarms. And extra locks. Not to mention the police outside-”

“The lock was broken when I went outside,” You say, chewing your lip, “And the alarms? I don’t know. Maybe we forgot to set them?”

“We didn’t.” Says Tara, voice firm, “I triple-checked them.”

Then she frowns.

“What were you doing outside?”

You pause, wonder if you should tell her the truth. She’s already hurt, and the last thing you want to do is spike her heartbeat monitor and send her back into another mini-coma. You swallow.

“Richie wanted to talk. So we went outside.”

Tara stares at you. You’re blinking too much, one of your giveaway signs. She knows them by heart.

“Richie wanted to talk?” She asks. Her eyes on you scanning, surveying, “And how did Richie get ahold of you? You left your phone in your room.”

Damn it.

“He was already in the house.” You say, biting your lip, “He asked me to come outside and talk.”

It’s not a lie, not totally. But Tara sees right through it.

“He asked you?” Tara says, “He asked you to come outside alone with him when Ghostface is running around trying to kill you?”

“He-” You sigh. You don’t care enough about him to try and protect him. You squeeze her hand, try to preempt the anger, “He sort of- took me outside.”

“He took you outside?” Tara sits up at this, her voice raising, “He took you how?”

You pause.

“He put his hand over my mouth and dragged me outside.”

Tara’s up in a flash. Her face awash with fury. The four of you jump up in mutual protest as she’s climbing halfway out of her hospital bed. The heartbeat monitor sings out as her heartbeat spikes. Chad’s arms on her are firm as he pushes her back down into the bed.

Her hospital gown seeps red with fresh blood.

“Tara, your stomach.” You gasp, “Baby, lay down, please.”

Tara groans as the pain catches up with her. She slumps, slightly, chest heaving. She’s furious, you can tell by the way she’s gripping your hand, eyes ablaze.

Then she looks up at Chad, a dangerous look in her eye.

“Tell Richie to come here right now,” She growls, “Tell him I’m about to kill him with my bare hands-”

“As tempting as I’m sure he’ll find that offer,” Interjects Mindy, sounding a little too excited, “Doesn’t this just prove my theory? It’s Sam. She asked her boyfriend to lure YN away and then when you least expected it. Bam!”

She slaps down on her folder.

“She had you exactly where she wanted you.”

Tara moans. Presses her hand against her wound.

“Baby, I need more painkillers,” She says, voice high. Sweat on her brow, “Tell the nurse I need something. Anything. Tell her I want to be up and walking and killing Richie in the next ten minutes-”

“You’re not walking anywhere. And you’re certainly not killing anyone.” You say, smoothing her hair out of her face, “Mindy go get the nurse. And can you stop with your stupid folder. As if she’s not worked up enough.”

Mindy rolls her eyes. Presses her folder back into her backpack.

“You’ll all see,” She promises as she goes off to find the nurse, “I’m right about this.”

She hovers in the doorway.

“Just don’t either of you be alone with Sam. Promise me.”

“Mindy.” Tara growls, “If you don’t-”

Mindy raises her hands, “Fine. Fine. I’m going.”

You spend the rest of the night by Tara’s side. Anxiously watching as the nurse changes her bandages. You hold her hand as they pump her with meds, try to still some of the pain from ripping her own stitches.

Chad, Liv and Mindy peter out, one by one. Promise they’ll return in the morning. You wouldn’t mind if they didn’t: the Scooby Doo act is getting a little old, Mindy’s questions starting to grate on you. You’re no closer to figuring out who Ghostface is and now Tara has a three inch gash in her stomach to prove it.

Your Dad returns a little later. Sits just outside the door, watching over the room like a posted guard. Sam sits a little closer, near the end of the bed. Her hand touching Tara’s foot every now and then as if to remind herself she’s still there.

Tara's eyes droop, loopy on pain medication. She’s shivering a little. You pull the bedsheets a little higher, settle into her side, careful of her wound. Press a kiss to her forehead.

You watch as she desperately tries to keep her eyes open.

“Go to sleep, babe.” You insist for what must be the sixth time, “You’re safe. We’re in a hospital with tons of people. I’m here, Dad’s here. Sam’s here. He’s not going to touch you.”

“What if he gets you?” She says, voice drowsy. She blinks, trying to fight off her exhaustion, “I need to stay awake. I need to protect you, baby.”

She’s not protecting anyone like this.

“It’s my turn to protect you.” You murmur. Lean in close to press the softest of kisses to her lips. Her eyes flutter closed.

“You can sleep, Tara, I won’t let anyone touch her.” Sam says from her spot near the end of the bed. Sam’s tired too, you can see it in her eyes. But there’s something else. Determination. Her shoulders are tense. You get it. This is the second time in under a month Tara’s been here like this. Looking so small in her hospital bed, failed by her mother. Failed by Sam. Failed by you.

She wants to protect her, that you can understand. You want to protect her too.

Tara looks at her, really looks at her. Her eyebrows knit, like she’s appraising her. Then she nods, a little slow. She pulls you closer, nestles her head against your shoulder.

“Wake me if you hear anything,” She says, a little sleepy. Curls a little closer into your side. You nod, kiss her once more.

“I promise.”

And then her eyes flutter closed as she drifts off to sleep.

Next part

#all hers #scream vi #ghostface!tara #fanfic #mine #jenna ortega #tara carpenter #jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x yn #tara carpenter x you #jenna ortega x you

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pinkrelish · 2 years

Text

𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞.

bestfriend!eddie x fem!reader

✶There was an obvious implication as to why Eddie would invite you to ring in the New Year with him. Even his friends knew it, leaving you two alone at the countdown to 1986. Would tonight be the night he finally kissed you?✶

NSFW — mechanic!eddie, fluff, flirting, being dumb teenagers young adults, 18+ overall for smut, drug/alcohol mention/use

chapter: 8/15 [wc: 8.1k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11

AO3

Chapter 8: Midnight Sparks

You nestled deeper into your coat, and jogged to the door of Bradley’s Big Buy, wincing from the glare of the gray clouds reflected on the windows. The forecast said it was supposed to be sunny today.

————

It started with a weekly phone call like any other. You were huddled on your bed, face turned away from your roommate’s prying gaze. She sat at her study desk, cranking the timer you both used to keep things civil.

Whatever. What did she care if the line was busy, anyway? It’s not like she had a new boyfriend to call her after she was dumped two weeks ago.

“They give you a few days off, don’t they?” Eddie probed with a persuasive inflection at the end of his sentence. “C’mon, it’s New Years. Why don’t you swing by and pay a visit to your dear ol’ pal, Eddie?”

He was smirking like a villain, wasn’t he? So smug, so carefree. Cracking a smile to where his top lip met his cheek dimple, showing off the mischievous gleam on his canines. It’s just the worst expression. Detestable.

“Swing by?” you repeated incredulously. “In what world is a trip to see your sorry ass in Indiana ‘swinging by’?”

“I know you don’t have plans for New Year’s–”

“You don’t know that.”

“Do you have plans?”

“..No,” you admitted.

You could picture him with irritating clarity. How his raised eyebrows fell into diabolical slants, eyes crinkled at the corners, stupid grin deepening once he caught you; how he shrugged and clapped his hands when he assumed a pitying, pompous tone after sucking his teeth, “Well, I guess that settles it, then! You’re coming here to spend New Year’s Eve with us. I’ll make the trip worth it, I promise. Tons of fireworks, hanging out with the guys, and hey, I’ll even throw in the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity of a private show of your favorite band, Corroded Coffin, up close and personal.” He paused to grant you the space for one sigh, then he sweetened the deal. “I’ll tune up your car for you.”

“For free?”

He laughed. “Free, but I do accept gifts and favors as a form of payment, my dear.”

“As humble as ever, I see,” you said, rather than commit to more. It was bad enough he had you wrapped around his finger, speaking gently into the phone snug against his mouth, dragging his lips over the plastic, invoking the tender side of him when trying to convince you to come see him. Where a subconscious sadness smoothed the sharp edges of his teasing.

Of course you wanted to see him again.. However, the traditional way of ringing in the New Year sat like a weight on your chest. The same creeping anxiety of knowing he’d ask you to come to Hawkins again, and the same dread of knowing nothing would come of it.

Unless..

It was finally your turn to be noticed.

“Fine, you’ve worn me down. I’ll come. But I’m not happy about it.” You’ve made worst decisions in your life.

————

And that’s the story of how a boy persuaded you into coming back to the small town you had no intention of returning to without a good reason.

Eyes adjusting to the dingy grocery store, you scanned the short aisles for anyone you recognized, and were relieved to see the place was rather empty, aside from the owner doing a crossword puzzle at the counter. You grabbed a hand basket and perused the cold section at the back. Subsisting on convenient snacks and coffee since you left campus, you were more than ready for one of the ready-made sandwiches in the deli section, and any piece of fresh fruit or vegetable you could find.

Reading over the flavors of Gatorade in the drink cooler, you grabbed one, dropped it in the basket on the floor and stood up, arguing in your head about if you should order take-out to be delivered for the group tonight, or wait and see if someone like Jeff was considerate enough to think of that ahead of time. All of this left you vulnerable to the looming presence behind you, who was bending to speak over your shoulder.

“Hey, gorgeous.”

You spun so fast, the creep’s lips brushed the shell of your ear. His warm breath fanned your neck. Flashes of walking to your dorm alone at night had you springing into action before a second thought crossed your mind.

At the front of the store, the owner looked up from his newspaper, peering over his glasses at your nuisance.

“Whoa, there,” Eddie laughed, tracing the corner of his mouth with his tongue, doing a terrible job at hiding his amusement amidst his surprise. He made a motion like he was going to cup his hands over your fists to ease you out of your defensive position, then thought better of it. He posed with his arms up like he was surrendering.

Still considering punching him, you released a seething exhale of, “Jesus Christ, Eddie–!”

“I guess that answers if you’re a ‘fight’ or ‘flight’ response type of person.”

Refraining from greeting him, you went straight to asking the one question he deserved, “I’ve been here for all of three minutes, how is it you always know where to find me? And don’t,” –You emphasized– “Don’t tell me that you just do.”

“It’s my special talent,” he answered like the bastard he was.

You should’ve punched him.

Taking a tiny step away, Eddie averted his attention around the store for a few vain seconds, then gave up, returning to you. He chewed the inside of his cheek in spite of his abundant grin growing under the shy once-over you gave him. “Almost didn’t recognize you,” he said, more blatant in his observations. Raking his gaze over the length of your body. Deliberate, and tenacious. Taking his time to absorb you as you stood before him. Stopping at details you could only guess at. Devouring you openly. Fearlessly involving his fingers on your suede sleeve, dragging his fingertips down to the fluffy cuff and curling them inward, admiring the softness brushing over his knuckles. He wasn’t touching you, really. “A Penny Lane jacket and flared jeans? Were you invited to some retro costume party I don’t know about, or something?”

You couldn’t discern if his pink cheeks were because of the harsh wind outside, or something else. “I think some old lady died, and I got her wardrobe at the thrift store.” Riding the high of his flattery, you crossed your ankles and spun on the soles of your chunky boots, sweeping your hands down your clothing. “An entire outfit for less than twenty bucks.”

“It looks good on you.” He said it in that lower register. Where his voice cracked in and out. Quiet. More akin to the guys who hit on you.

You thanked him by doing the silly thing of putting your hands in your pockets. Swaying side to side. Not awkward at all, and definitely not trying to hide your smile.

Clearly not in here to grab groceries, he tipped his head towards his van outside, and asked, “I’m making a trip outside city limits for the good fireworks. Wanna come with?”

“I’m sorry.” You wanted to go. Just to sit next to him. To steal more time with him. Listen to music, hang out, fill in the blanks phone conversations couldn’t do justice. Hear his voice in person again. Say things that earned his rolodex of smiles, or laughs. Find ways to garner more compliments, more affection. Yet, your body ached in a severe way you couldn’t ignore. “I’ve been driving since about 3 this morning, and I’m kinda tired. Is it okay if I take a nap and meet you later?”

He screwed his eyes shut and faltered. Shook his head, and scrunched his face in a pained expression, speaking as if he was the one in the wrong for asking in the first place, “Of course! Yeah. Yeah, you’ve been driving all night. You deserve to relax. I didn’t mean to just–Yeah. Anyway, when were you leaving? You here for a few days?” he ended in a hopeful lilt.

It sucked letting him down. “Sorry, I’ve gotta leave pretty early tomorrow. I have two assignments due the first Friday after break, and it’s competition season, so lots of meets now; pretty much every other weekend starting the second week of January.”

He moved further away. Absently reading the labels on the bags of chips while he sorted through whatever disappointment he harbored. Tapping his knuckle on an end cap for an aisle, staying in his thoughts. Using the cold metal to rein in his feelings about your short time together.

“I’m sorry, Eddie..”

“Don’t apologize,” he said. He donned a happy persona. “That just means we’ll have to make the most of tonight, right?”

“Right.” You hated his fake turn in attitude. It’s not like you wanted this shitty reality, either. The ones in your head were much more preferable. Much more romantic. “We’ll make some good memories to last us until next time.”

Usually, Eddie was easy to read. He shared his emotions openly. However, when he looked at you like he did now–skimming his gaze from your eyebrows to your nose, scoping out the kindness of your glossy lips–you had to wonder what he was thinking, and if he was observing you with curiosity, or something sweeter. Please be sweeter.

“We will,” he promised. “We’ll go out with a bang, sweetheart.”

In a phenomenal execution of decorum, you did not, indeed, choke on your spit at his word choice.

~~~

The receipt with Eddie’s handwriting on the back waved between your fingers. You drove away from the corner unit of the Motel 6 with your windows rolled down, enjoying the sunshine. It almost didn’t feel like winter with how it warmed up while you laid in bed, replaying the scene of your best friend tilting his head to check out your tight fitting jeans when you bent over to pick your grocery basket off the floor.

Someone should’ve told him the door to the drink cooler was quite reflective.

Still, you had to question why he would bother giving you Gareth’s address when he could’ve simply told you it was the nicer subdivision on the north side of town you both ransacked during Halloween. From there, it was painfully obvious which house he was talking about.

Low-tuned sludgy riffs of doom metal called out to you from the main road. It was just Lloyd on bass and Jeff on guitar playing together while Eddie had the back doors of his van open, helping Gareth slide out sheets of plywood and stack them in the dead grass.

You pulled into the driveway and Eddie waved at you to park behind him.

“There she is,” he announced over the music. Interestingly, he dropped the pet names around his friends, but Gareth gave you two a sneaky glance, regardless. “Running me low on daylight after begging me to fix her car.”

Mouth agape, you filled your lungs to the fullest with an absolute dissertation’s amount of rebuttal, but your fortitude vanished. The bane of your existence eclipsed the sun.

Eddie folded his arms atop your open window, leaning onto your car door, kicking his hip out, regarding you down his broad nose.

Music faded out one strum at a time. The guys crowded the back of the garage, hooking up extension cords to Eddie’s power tools, and carried them to the saw horses they had set up, keeping themselves busy and at a distance.

Eddie’s hair fell over his shoulders. He provoked you in a softer voice, “What’s my payment for doing this kind gesture for you, hmm?” The tendons in his neck flexed as he hummed.

The smallest muscle in his cheek twitched the longer you schooled your face from reacting. Giving him nothing to work with, leaving him to guess if he was being annoying in the wrong way. Making him sweat under the heat of his innuendo.

If only he knew you’d be on your knees the split second he gave the command.

But, you remained strong in the face of temptations, and opened the door, shoving him back a few steps. “Have I ever told you I hate you?”

“Once or twice,” he said after feigning to think about it.

“And to answer you..” You kicked the door closed behind you, and drew yourself to your full height as if you were in front of suited up judges. Chin high, shoulders back. Taller in your boots. Meeting his eye easily. An intimidating strength to your intense demeanor. “I’m here, aren’t I?” Both a gift and a favor. His gift. His favor. His girl.

Eddie snorted. “How could I forget? Your presence is my greatest treasure.”

You tipped your cheek to your shoulder as you considered him. “I’m your greatest treasure?” His brashness deflated upon hearing you repeat it back at him. Your eyes narrowed wickedly while his widened. “I seem to remember you saying you’d take care of me if I came back.”

For a blissful beat, memories of that first phone call passed over his unfocused gaze. You, too, unlocked a few repressed images you swore you wouldn’t release when he was standing right in front of you; fully clothed, and very handsome.

Then, Eddie stuttered something, but there was no telling what, because Jeff started up the whirring circular saw with a smile of pure innocence. “Oh, did I interrupt you guys? My bad.”

You threw him a sardonic smile, and addressed your flustered mechanic. “Shall we?”

It seemed Eddie struggled to move past your tongue-in-cheek proposition. Either that, or something else had his mind scrambled. “Uh, y-yeah,” he stammered, tripping over his own feet, making finger guns at his van where he left his tool bag. “We should. Y’know, daylight.” You agreed and tossed him your keys.

Unbeknownst to either of you, Lloyd exchanged knowing looks with Jeff and Gareth, who both shook their heads and rolled their eyes.

~~~

Some favor this turned out to be.

“How long has it been making that sound?” Eddie asked from the driver’s seat, aghast.

You shrugged at the exposed engine cranking and churning out a sound not unlike a dead man’s cough. “I dunno. Maybe a month? No.. Two, or three?”

“Babe,” he groaned to himself, thumping his head on the headrest. He ran his hands over the leather steering wheel, wringing the vibrations under his palms, listening to the racket. Stewing over his knee-jerk reaction to shake you until you promised to maintain your only means of transportation which brought you to him today. What if it broke down and you were stranded in some seedy city where someone could take advantage of you?

Working his jaw, he turned off the car and unfolded himself from your cramped seat.

Inside the back of his van, he collected a few replacements for parts he could tell were worn, and put them near the edge. “Have you changed the air filters lately?” You blinked up at him. He added new ones to the pile and hopped down.

“Do I want to know when was the last time you got an oil change?”

You crossed your arms and leaned your hip against the car, keen to the way he went into his zone, moving with skill over the motor in a predetermined method–an order to his operations. “You changed it for my mom the summer before I left, didn’t you?” He paused with the dipstick in his hand, brown eyes pinning you with glints of mortification, and disbelief. “Eddie, I’m kidding..” He wiped it on the dirty rag balled in his fist and his expression foretold the scolding you were about to get. “I got it changed like a year ago.” More angry staring. “Maybe it was two years ago,” you amended.

He added another task to his mental list. “You’re sending me to an early grave.”

Gareth began sawing pieces of 2x4s after Jeff measured them. The noise covered your private moment with Eddie.

Angling your head under the popped hood, you gut-punched him with a poignant truth he despised about himself. “Joke about an early grave all you want, I think you like doing this stuff for me because it makes you feel needed. Now that I’m away at college, you can’t just come over and fix a leak in my roof, or patch up a hole in the drywall, or pick me up from work when I’m too tired to drive.” Your gaze settled on his frown. “I appreciate you fixing my car, but I don’t want it to come across like that’s the only reason I’m here. You don’t need to do these things for me to come see you. I’m here because I like being with you. You’re my best friend, Eddie.”

You're my best friend, Eddie.

He invoked every fiber of self-restraint woven into his musculature to not look at you. “Do you have a hair tie?”

“Sure.” You took one from your wrist and handed it to him. Adding to your previous point, “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to feel needed–”

“What, did you smoke a joint and read your psychology textbook before coming here? Be a doll and hold this for me.” He slipped out of his jacket, and tossed it at you. From his periphery he watched you clutch it to your chest, and in that moment–when your fingers curled around the collar, and your arms embraced his armor like a hug–he decided enough was enough. Tonight was the night.

~~~

Crossing your legs at the ankle, you sat back against the car door. A fine vantage point for pretending you were observing the guy's build.. whatever it was they were building, while your eyes fell to Eddie more often than not. Noticing him gather his hair at his nape and wrap the hair tie around it several times, not pulling through on the last loop, thus allowing it to fan out from a bun in springy waves. The rest of his short layers sat over his ears, catching the wind when he whipped around to seize a car part from his stash. Probably salvaged from the junkyard you played in as kids; a place you owed many of your scars to.

The shirt he wore was for a local band in Indy. Their name strained over his full chest, white letters stretching and bunching as he employed his skilled hands over your motor. A remarkably snug fit on him. Tight. Formed to the curves of his body. Capped sleeves stopping at the apex of his shoulders. Sharp cut of his tricep contouring an elegant shadow from one tattoo to the next, black ink flexing as he cranked a wrench.

Loose strands of hair clung to the sheen on his neck.

Black leather baked in your arms under the setting sun, intensifying the cheap cologne he doused to disguise the layers of weed and cigarette smoke, accompanied by the same deodorant that was on his Hellfire shirt.

The peppered stubble on his jaw. His shaved mustache. Smudges of grease in the hollow of his cheek as he chewed on another complaint in your direction. Mouth twisted to the side in concentration, until his tongue involved itself, parting his lips.

His tongue was a dangerous thing to be jealous of, yet here you were, fawning over its ability to be intimate with his mouth, his lips. Oh yes, his lips. How many hours you wasted of your adult life being stuck in boring lectures delivered by droning professors while you were thinking about his lips framing your name in the warmest of manners.

Eddie was stunning. Dirty, and stunning. Sweaty from being the gentleman he was, giving you a hand in one of the areas of your life you neglected, and he was in dire need of someone to clean him off. Someone whose fingers were as kind as yours to treat the scope of his understated beauty.

Someone to bathe him after a long day.

Get him nice and clean.

Then dirty again.

His hips were pressed to the red metal of your car. Tight jeans showing each thrust he made as he yanked on something out of your view. Handcuff belt buckle clinking every so often. Shirt wrinkled over the pudge on his stomach, and you couldn’t fathom a better place to land a few kisses on your way down to his–

“You like watching me work?” he asked plainly, bent over the headlight closest to you, eyes affixed on his project.

You jerked as if you snapped awake from a dream, and asked the guys crowding around the saw horses, “Hey, whatcha makin’? Can I help?” Apparently, Gareth and Jeff were laboring over a quarterpipe, and Lloyd was making a wide ramp. Why he specified wide, you didn’t know, but it was the perfect excuse to get the hell away from Eddie.

It was too real being next to him in person, and you needed a break.

Your swanky Penny Lane coat proved too insulating on the unusually balmy winter afternoon, so you unclasped the ornate button and draped it over your car door, revealing your cherry red blouse and silk scarf tied around your neck.

As you placed Eddie’s jacket alongside yours, something fell out of his pocket. You picked up the white and red package and turned it over. Wrigley’s Spearmint. It was missing a few foil-wrapped sticks of gum. Thinking nothing of it, you put it back, and joined Lloyd.

“What should I do?”

“Did you just time travel from a Hendrix show?” Jeff asked, earning your middle finger.

Lloyd instructed you where to hold the boards he was cutting, and revved the jigsaw. Wood shavings rained in its wake.

A cacophony of buzzing drowned out further conversation. Saws, drills, and a stream of swears filled the lull of the drifting creeping sunset.

Gareth looked around him for the nail gun, and realized he left it in the van. He told Jeff to keep his weight on the curved plywood. “I’ll get it.” And what a poor sight he stumbled upon. He could almost feel his heartstrings tug for his friend’s transparent pining. Almost.

Gareth’s saunter took on a swagger as he approached Eddie, and clapped him on the shoulder, shocking him from his awestruck daze. “Might wanna pick your jaw off the floor.”

Eddie was quick to close his mouth, and go to work with his back facing you. So what if your scarf was cute. And your blouse hugged you in all the right places. And the color complemented you. And the space between the buttons gapped. And your bra was white. And he could admire your jeans without your coat blocking the view. He was allowed to appreciate these things on a platonic level. He was a respectable young man, after all.

Besides, he was well within his right to stare.. from beneath your car after jacking it up, laying on his back, sliding under the engine on a creeper board with a wrench in his hand to do.. something. He forgot.

How was he supposed to concentrate when he’d been deprived of touch for so long he found his chest tensing, and his throat closing, at the memory of his lips grazing your ear at the grocery store, and how if he kept his face there, your lips would’ve connected with his when you turned?

~~~

Daylight burned to dusk.

The quarterpipe sat in the middle of the road opposite the ramp. No one else seemed to care if cars could pass by, so you didn’t either.

Eddie dug his heels into the driveway and wheeled himself back and forth on the roller board, face turned to scrutinize what you were doing instead of minding his own business; and you’d know, because this was hardly the first time your gazes met, and you both looked away as if it never happened.

Though, an unexpected object entered your field of view, anyway.

“A shopping cart?” you questioned. Jeff nodded enthusiastically on his way to the quarterpipe, hauling it to the top. Surely they weren’t planning on..

Gareth’s eyes shone with teenage madness. “You wanna get the firecrackers? We need to christen the cart.”

“Sure..” you drawled. Silly you for assuming the overturned hunk of dented metal in the neighbor’s ditch was discarded trash and not some prized possession.

You stepped over a pair of black jean-clad legs on your way to the back of Eddie’s van, and opened the doors wider, peering inside. It was much messier than last time you were in it. Blown out speakers, guitar cases, and the aforementioned scrounged up parts to extend your car’s life occupied most of the space, along with loose papers and textbooks for school. Near you, there were boxes upon boxes of fireworks. Way more than you thought necessary, but he did say he wanted to end 1985 with a bang.

Pulling one closer to you, you found the red packs of fireworks strung together like a bandolier, and grabbed several belts worth.

And, of course, when you turned around, you gasped and backed into the rear bumper.

Fluttering your eyes closed, you stated in an even tone, “If you scare me one more time.”

“Maybe you should pay more attention to your surroundings.” Eddie wrung a dirty rag around his stained fingers, hip cocked out. He jerked his chin at your car. “Almost done. Not as good as new, but in a lot better condition than when you drove here.”

“Thank you. You seriously didn’t have to go and do all of this for me.”

The harsh light coming from Gareth’s garage divided Eddie’s face in halves. He held his hands up to inspect the grime under his fingernails, and answered, “I did it for me, so I can rest easy knowing you’re safe.” A shadow concealed his mouth, but you were certain he wasn’t smiling. The serious knot between his brows, and the bluntness in his visible eye pierced the uprising of nighttime splitting you into two sides of the same friendship. What you showed each other and what you kept hidden in the dark. “What if something happened and you got hurt?”

Your forearm was alive with the sensation of his warmth penetrating the chill on your skin. “I don’t live a safe life. I could fall and snap my neck at any moment on the uneven bars. A single missed catch and I’m gone.” As you spoke, you swayed closer, taunting the electricity to spark between you. His chest swelled with a breath. He smelled of spearmint. “If you want to keep me out of harm’s way, you’ll have to do better than fix my car.”

A single firework in the distance struck the saturated sky. Then more. More bangs, squeals, children shouting in awe around the subdivision.

Eddie didn’t say anything else, so you didn’t either.

Eddie didn’t make a move, so you didn’t either.

The delicate paper crinkled in your hands. “Do you have a lighter on you?”

Roused from his trance, he pointed at his jacket hanging over your door. “In my..” He trailed off, hand lowering as something registered to him. “Actually, I think I have some matches on my dash.”

It was a weird moment–the whole exchange, the awkward faltering–but you found the worn paper package on his dashboard, and joined the others, avoiding giving a side-long glance at Eddie, who involved himself in the finishing touches on your car.

The guys became more psyched up when you handed them the goodies. They tangled the fireworks around the handle of the shopping cart balanced precariously at the top of the quarterpipe, and Jeff propped his foot on one of the wheels, while Gareth climbed into the basket.

Jeff raised a single match and aligned it on the strike strip. “We hereby commence tonight’s festivities! Let the new year bring forth joy!” He looked at Gareth, then Lloyd. “Prosperity!” He spun to you, a certain glint of glee when his eyes landed on yours, then somewhere behind you. “And love,” he finished, lighting the match with flair.

It burned bright.

Flame to fuse, sparks flew.

Before even the first firecracker popped, the cart was wrangled, and Jeff was in motion. Shoving it over the edge, putting power behind his sprint as it sped down the slope. He let go. Gareth gripped the sides and whooped as he approached the wide ramp at max speed. It hit the incline, and together, they flew–at least, they gave the impression of flying right before they smacked the pavement. Bouncing, clanging, almost tipping nose-first, and recovering at the last second, skidding to a halt upright and uninjured.

The firecrackers burnt out their last bang, and fell to the road in dwindling flames.

Lloyd cruised alongside the chaos on his skateboard, and gave a hearty, “Hell yeah!” Gareth appeared a little shaken, but otherwise fine.

“Is the ramp okay?”

Relaxing from your wince, you peeped an eye open to confirm it did remain in one piece.

“Nice!” Jeff said, kicking the support beam you screwed into place. “It held up. The other one cracked on the first run.” Apparently that was a win in their books.

Gareth rode the back of the shopping cart to its wobbly stop in front of you. “Wanna take it for a spin?” He swung his arm over the reckless vehicle, and towards the safety hazards you helped facilitate.

The quarterpipe suddenly seemed towering. Much taller than when it was being constructed.

You placed your hands in your back pockets, and conjured an excuse while shifting from foot to foot. “Interestingly enough, as a NCAA athlete, I signed a contract stating I would not partake in irresponsible behavior. You know, the usual stuff to prevent an injury before Nationals. No ice skating, no shenanigans, no horsing around, and..” You tsked. “Definitely no tomfoolery.” You served him a cheeky grin, oblivious to the unamused stare Eddie was giving you after your little speech earlier.

“C’mon,” Gareth appealed in an equally charming twang. He stamped the end of his skateboard and caught it in his hand, spinning it around to where the grip tape faced you. “How about we start with this on solid ground? You don’t have to be scared. I’ll teach you.”

Pursing your lips, you stalled.

“Don’t let him peer pressure you,” Eddie warned from your driver’s seat, about to put the key in the ignition. “Think about your future. You can’t compete with a broken wrist.”

A searing flash of anger struck your nerves. Somehow, when it was Eddie worrying over you, it was so much more irritating than being called scared. Like hell you were scared, and like hell you were going to get hurt. It was riding a fucking skateboard, not jumping through a flaming hoop. And how hard could it be? Balancing was sort of your thing.

You raised your eyebrows at Gareth, and shrugged. “Sure, yeah, teach me.”

The annoyed sigh behind you encouraged you all the more.

Eddie could suck a fat one. You wanted to have fun.

Gareth led you to the street, and gave you a rundown on where to put your feet, talking you through the process of transferring your weight through your stance, and to trust him. Jeff was nearby giving feedback, as well, and Lloyd dropped in from the quarterpipe to skate circles around you. They reassured you that everyone shook like a newborn deer when stepping onto the board for the first time.

Although Gareth was grasping you around your forearms, he felt too far away when the board creaked. You didn’t expect it to lurch forwards and back from how you stood on it sideways. In a blink, you grappled for his shoulders, snatching fistfuls of his gray hoodie and the collar of his flannel vest into your vice grip, panicking.

He laughed. “You’re good, you’re good.” Moving to where he was cupping the undersides of your elbows, he waited for you to regain your balance, and said, “Don’t look at your feet, it’s throwing you off.” You lifted your gaze to his face. His eyes were kinder up close. “We’re just gonna.. Yeah, like that.” Like a waltz.

Guiding you at the snail’s pace you were comfortable at, you discovered every ridge of every bump of every pebble stuck in every crack in the asphalt beneath the wheels. He eased you in a straight line. The pins on his flannel reflected the burst of bottle rockets being set off in the cul-de-sac.

Your concentration was dedicated to staying standing, but you were aware of the sound of your engine dying down, and a set of watchful eyes on the back of your head.

“Put your weight on your back foot. It’ll lift the front of the board, so you can steer yourself in a circle.” You listened, and did as he said, bringing the nose up in quick pops. It wasn’t quite a circle, but the guys were stoked for your progress.

“I’m doing it!” you said, conquering your fear with another tap, tap, tap of a circle. You didn’t have the hang of balancing in your shoulders yet, rather than your hips, but it was something. Tap, tap, tap. Braver. Bigger movements. Faster. He spun you faster. More weight on your back foot. Another circle. More weight. And then, pain.

“I’ll get it,” Jeff mumbled, running off in some direction.

“Hey, we got the first fall out of the way. Not so bad, right?”

You got too daring, it seemed, judging by Gareth’s surprised face hovering above yours, on account of you bringing him down with you.

You let go of him with an apology, but he kept his hold on you to make sure your head didn’t hit the pavement. He was about to ask if you were okay, and you were about to say your right ass cheek stung, however, an aura of told-you-so forced him to exit your immediate vicinity.

“Nope, we’re done with that,” Eddie enunciated through his teeth. He stuck his hand out with the intent to help you up, and you mirrored him. Yet. He hesitated. Imperceivable to his friends who won his affection easily, but to you, it was the longest split second decision you had the agony of enduring. Your hand was there. Right there, and he rejected it. He aimed for your wrist instead, clasping his washed fingers around your polyester sleeve, and he was wearing his jacket now. Even if you wanted to touch him, you couldn’t. He ensured you couldn’t. No contact. Ever.

It was starting to get old.

You accepted his offer, and voiced your exasperation, “Eddie, I fell like, two feet. I’m fine.”

“Fine? What if you twisted your ankle?”

Determined to keep him tethered to you, you locked his wrist into your hand’s dominant embrace, and stepped to him, speaking right above a tame whisper, “But I didn’t.”

“And what if you landed on your knee?” he asked, matching your low tone. He drew you closer. Not enough to be witnessed, but you were consumed by the discreet pressure of his frustration on your pulse. Thrilled by it, even.

“Ease up, man. Your girl survived the Great Skateboard Crash of 1985 without so much as a scratch.”

“I’m not his girl.”

“She’s not my girl,” Eddie reiterated at the expense of Jeff’s shit eating grin, refusing to break your eye contact. “She’s the thorn in my side.” He initiated letting go of you all too soon. This time, you were the one to pursue him.

Taking him by the upper arms, you sank your nails into his leather barrier, and teased your bottom lip into an exaggerated pout. “I think Eddie forgot how to have fun. Remember, Munson, we used to build ramps out of tossed construction materials propped onto deflated tires we found around the trailer park? How many times did we crash our bikes and almost knock our teeth out? By those standards, this is totally OSHA compliant. Live a little.”

“Yeah, Eddie, live a little,” Gareth snarked.

“He’s only this protective over you,” Lloyd observed with a note of mock hurt. “He doesn’t care if we get hurt.”

“Bullshit,” Eddie dismissed, fighting a smile. “I care if you can’t make it to Hellfire.” Earning a round of laughter, stress ebbed from his posture. His grumpiness melted under your firm palms pleading for him to relax.

With a voice overflowing with reluctance, he asked, ”You want a ride in the cart?” You nodded. “Get in.”

~~~

Besides being the one at the helm of your fate, Eddie had a few conditions: arms and legs must remain inside the vehicle at all times, no ramp, wear your coat, no ramp, don’t aim the Roman candle at his handsome face, and–most importantly–no ramp. And there you were, sitting in the basket of the shopping cart atop the quarterpipe’s platform, shoulders against the handlebar that Eddie gripped with white knuckles, twisting your head to smile up at him.

“Don’t look so pleased with yourself,” he said.

You smiled bigger.

Eddie took a match from Jeff, and lit the top of the tube in your hand. “Any last words?”

“Just one,” you said, waving your middle finger.

Ever gentle, he shook the cart, scaring you into facing forward as he approached the edge. The fire spouting from your firework grew in fierceness. Blindingly bright, and hot as it crept down the tube. Eddie asked if you were ready, and the first ball shot out like a flare gun, hitting a tree branch in its path, before landing on a roof and fizzling out.

You’re convinced he didn’t wait for you to answer.

The front wheels crested the top of the quarterpipe. Completely vertical, your insides performed a somersault as the hard, unforgiving street below stretched on for eons; and then, it was gone. Replaced by the ache of your body being slammed against metal. A disorienting jumble of the firework’s floom as it went off beside your head, and Eddie’s cackling laugh reverberating between your ears.

You sailed past where the ramp used to be. Eddie was the captain of your ship. Running and hopping onto the back of the shopping cart. His hands gripped your shoulders, not the handle. His thumbs were everything you needed, prodding deep into your muscles. Fingertips perched on your collar bone. Exploring further down as the blur of houses came to a reasonable scroll when the fun slowed to a crawl.

“Satisfied?”

He wasn’t as close as he was in the grocery store, but you whipped your head around in hopes of catching a close look at his lips. It was worth it for his half-lidded eyes alone.

The last firework went off, illuminating his face in a lovely shade of red.

You said, “Let’s do it again.”

He said, “Absolutely not.”

~~~

The rest of the evening was much different from its rocky start.

Everyone was buzzing like bees. Playing music at random intervals, wrestling in the front yard, showing off their skate tricks. Demanding you do another backflip off the ramp, even though you did several already. Challenging you to arm wrestling matches on the hood of your car. Totally normal occurrences.

You clicked your tongue in a pitying gesture at Jeff. “Lost again.” He forked up another dollar by throwing it at you, muttering about how you must’ve cheated.

Later, minutes to midnight, it was almost as if they coordinated jamming together in the garage, only to make excuses to leave, right when you walked inside to tell them the rest of the fireworks were out of Eddie’s van.

“We’re gonna set those up!”

“Yeah, three heads are better than one.”

“Six hands are better than two!”

You had to wonder if they were always this ridiculous as they left you alone with Eddie in the most obvious way possible.

“Did you like that one?” he asked about the last song. His face was hidden behind the curtain of his hair, looking down at his guitar as he practiced a thrashy transition.

“Loved it.” And it was the whole truth spoken from the depths of your subconscious, where the sparks of old feelings resided, watching his mouth from afar, pressing his lips to the microphone as he spouted rather poetic lyrics about his brain being cracked open and spiders crawling out.

A smirk stretched his face. “Really?” He re-tuned the bottom strings of his guitar and turned a knob on his amp. “I figured you were more of this type.” Plucking a simple chord, he scrunched his nose, and oscillated the whammy bar while grooving on one of his pedals, acting like he was super into the psychedelic vibrato it created. “Something like that for, roughly, twenty-eight minutes while everyone is tripping on acid.”

“Ha-ha,” you deadpanned. He was annoying, but back to normal. Chewing on another stick of gum, covered in dirt from pinning Jeff in the front yard earlier. Blades of dead grass tangled in his curls. And you immersed yourself in your role as well, dwelling over the physical pain of not being able to explore the intimacy of removing them. To become familiar with the feel of his scalp beneath your fingers. To understand the proximity of his face near yours without aversion. To know the taste of his minty gum on your tongue..

Something dawned on you.

Spearmint.

Chewing gum since this afternoon.

No lighter.

His prickliness when you crossed him.

He hadn’t smoked today.

He was chewing gum to curb his compulsion for a cigarette. No drinking, or other drugs, either. He cared to have minty breath. He wanted to be sober. He cared to have minty breath, and he wanted to be sober for midnight.

Maybe you were spiraling into territory you shouldn’t, but the implication was too tangible to argue against.

A midnight kiss.

It was impossible to keep the softness out of your tone, and the delicate flutter from tainting your words, but you held fast, “Wanna watch the fireworks together?”

He read his watch. “Yeah, it’s almost time.”

~~~

The stairs leading to Gareth’s front door were cozy. It was impossible to share them with another person without touching. You were surprised Eddie agreed to sit with you, molded to one another from hip, to the length of your thighs, pressed together in foreign inseparability. Hands, arms, and elbows were curled in tight, but your shoulders bumped on occasion. The guys had their backs to you, giving you privacy, while they tied the final fuses of illegally purchased fireworks together, running low on matches.

Now, the inky black night was constantly alight with an assortment of colors in a range of patterns.

The neighborhood was alive with a countdown.

Your heart was in your throat. Pounding beats in your temples. It was coming.

Three matches were struck and shared. The guys danced around the pile in the street, shouting and giggling, and retreating to the end of the driveway, away from danger. But not far enough to witness Eddie running his sweaty palms over his jeans.

You couldn’t discern the numbers being counted. Your senses dulled. Tunnel vision for the man beside you. Everything else faded away.

“One!” someone shouted over the dozens of screeching fireworks being set off at once.

Eddie didn’t make a move.

But you did.

Leaning over the appropriate amount necessary to be heard, you spoke into his ear, smitten by the fortuitous tickle of his hair brushing over your nose, “Looks like it’s officially your year.”

You must’ve taken him off-guard.

Initially, he jumped. Or shivered, you didn’t know. But when he turned to look at you, he slowed at the introduction of your cheeks sliding along one another as he drew away. Separating once the corner of your lips were at risk of converging. His stubble was scratchy. Your skin was soft. Who knew.

His gaze bounced around your candid expression. Memorizing your raw innocence at the newness of the sensation, like you memorized his. “Yeah, I’ll finally graduate,” he agreed. His exhale landed on your lips. A caress. Your body longed for more. Then, with absolute confidence, he declared, “After that, I’m gonna follow you everywhere.”

What?

You urged your attention away from his lips, to his shy, brown eyes seeking yours, resisting the impulse to look away.

He displayed his hope in the timid dimple emerging in his cheek. “I don’t think college is in my future, but I’m good at other things. Fixing cars, working with my hands, charming bar owners into giving me a gig. I..” His tongue paused on the tip of his teeth. Vulnerability whelmed him; mouth falling open and closed as he found an ounce of bravery. “Olympics.. The circus, whatever.. Wherever you go, I’ll follow. So we never have to be alone again. We’ll have each other. Be together..” His shaky whisper went faint as his nerves stole his voice. “You need a best friend to take care of you. To keep you safe. I’ll keep you safe.. Forever.”

He used the dreaded label–best friends–but this time.. It didn’t bother you.

He promised you forever.

Rendered speechless, you uttered the first thing that came to mind, expecting him to go along with the joke, as if he wasn’t serious. “The circus is a lot more dangerous than falling off a skateboard. I could get hurt.”

“Not if I’m there to catch you.”

Your chest caved under the impact of the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to you. Fireworks burst in your stunned silence. Vision blurring with unadulterated happiness, managing a single, gravelly, “Okay,” amongst the content, and relieved, laugh you two shared, unsure of what this confession meant to either of you.

————

Jeff rapidly tapped the back of his hand on Lloyd’s chest. “I’m not wearing my glasses. Did they kiss?” he asked, excited.

Sighing, Lloyd let him down. “No.. But they do look happy.”

Gareth rolled his eyes. “How can they both be so stupid?”

————

Eddie knew he forfeited another chance at kissing you when he stopped leaning into your car, and wished you a safe drive, accepting the fact he wouldn’t see you again before you left. Your precious lips were right there, grinning at him with undue tenderness, eyes shining with an emotion he couldn’t place, but he couldn’t bring himself to risk it. Your futures were entwined now. He’d see you soon. Hopefully it wouldn’t take over three months for you to visit again, but he didn’t mind. It just meant more time for him to summon up the courage to almost, vaguely, in a roundabout way, with the caveat of being friends-only, sort of admit his feelings for you.

Still, he was proud of himself.

He wore his smile all the way home, putting a little pep in his step as he rushed up the stairs, and threw open the door to his trailer, scrambling for the pack of cigarettes and lighter he left on the kitchen counter.

Lord, he smoked through the first one in some kind of nicotine-induced euphoria.

He was in paradise. “Not if I’m there to catch you,” he mumbled to himself on his way to his room, swinging his arms, wholly intoxicated by his own charisma. “God, I’m corny.”

Tossing the carton of Camels on his nightstand, he went to put the lighter in his jacket pocket, and encountered what felt like wadded up papers stuffed inside. Pulling his hand out, he uncurled his fingers, and stared.

More hundred dollar bills than he’d ever had the pleasure of holding at once. A few twenties, too. Blood rushed to his cheeks. This was supposed to be a favor, and you snuck behind his back to pay him as if he were a real mechanic.. But that wasn’t the only thing that had his heart racing.

He flipped the accompanying Polaroid over.

The beach photo you promised. New Jersey 1985 written in the blank space at the bottom. More importantly, you in a bikini. Posed coyly with one arm crossed beneath your tits to create a gorgeous amount of cleavage, while staring into the camera with enough of a smirk to know what you were doing, while still being able to deny it.

After a beat, Eddie tipped his head and surrendered. He began unfastening his belt. “Great way to end the night, sweetheart.”

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anniesocsandgeneralstore · 8 months

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parenthood killed the rodeo star | famous!rhett x oc

Summary: Tessa stopped responding to texts and disappeared from the circuit three months ago, and Rhett can't stand not knowing what happened anymore. Maybe can't stand her not knowing how he feels about her, either. So he packs up and heads back to Wabang, a place he hasn't been to in nearly six years. (wc: 4679)

Warnings: background ocs, flashbacks, vague mentions of nudity, abortion mention, pregnancy, unexpected/accidental pregnancy, rhett and tess trying to be adults

✎……PREVIOUS INSTALLMENT || MASTERLIST

Wabang was a town that came up suddenly on highway twenty going from Shoshoni to Casper. A blink and you miss it town with only one stop light on the intersection of the highway and Main Street. Nothing but those wide open plains, the occasional butte and rock formation breaking up the landscape, until suddenly there were buildings and street lamps and cars. And then suddenly there was nothing but plains and great Wyoming sky once more. Only a few minutes of civilization and yet people lived their entire lives there without leaving once.

The thought made Rhett clench his jaw as he rolled into town. He didn’t want to be like that. Living and dying all in the same place without ever seeing anywhere else. It’s why he left as soon as he could. As soon as he got that first out of town rodeo gig in Montana. It was like all of Wabang was on fire and he didn’t care to save it.

He hadn’t looked back since.

It was nearly two in the morning when he checked in at the Neon Armadillo Motel just outside the city limits. The smoking, half-asleep front desk worker recognized him. But he couldn’t muster more than a slight smile and a thanks when they said he was one of Wabang’s crown jewels.

Rhett knew who the other gem was. And he was really hoping to find her.

Made it to Las Cruces. Wanna get a bite to eat?

A text left unread for the past week. All the other rodeo contestants had already arrived, milling about the fancy hotel the rodeo coordinators had suggested. Chatting and drinking and prepping for the events for the weekend. But all Rhett could do was keep checking his phone, and keep his eyes peeled for Tessa everywhere he went.

This wasn’t like her. She always texted him back. Was never this late for a rodeo. It felt like something gnawing at the pit of his stomach, swirling and pulling as the days went by and still she didn’t respond and she didn’t show up.

Eventually, the day of the rodeo came. Rhett called, but still, she didn’t answer.

What if something happened to her?

His legs felt weak, like toothpicks barely holding it together, as he walked through the rodeo grounds. The bull riding didn’t start for a few more hours, but he hoped that being there and in his element would force him to put aside his worry and just focus on what needed to be done. It wasn’t working so far.

Especially when he saw her agent talking to another rider.

“Hey, Scotty, c’n I talk t’you f’r a second?” Rhett asked as he walked up to the two of them.

The shorter, pot-bellied man bid the other rider farewell and turned to Rhett with a close-lipped smile mostly hidden by a mustache. “So, what can I do ya f’r?”

“Have y’seen Tessa?”

“Oh.” Scotty stared up at him and blinked rapidly. “I figured y’woulda known more abou’that than I do.”

Rhett clenched his fists to keep himself from fidgeting, swallowing down something he didn’t really understand. “Know about what?”

“She called me couple weeks back. Said she’s quittin’ n’wouldn’t tell me why. Jus’that she was done — goin’ back home.”

Rhett rode like shit that night and he got hounded for it by the press afterward. All those reporters asking him why he did so poorly when, up until Las Cruces, he had been placing first or second every time.

He couldn’t tell them it was because he couldn’t stop thinking about the girl he went to highschool with. The girl he wasn’t even in a relationship with. The girl he was suddenly realizing he may have been in love with and it might be too late to tell her.

Heaving a heavy sigh, he unlocked his motel room door and stepped inside. It smelled like cheap cigarettes and the lingering smells of sex. It nearly made him smile. Reminded him of all those motels he and Tessa used to meet up in when they first started out. It was in one just like this, with the two double beds and decor straight out of the nineties, that Tessa kissed him for the first time on a drunken dare. And he snuck off to her room after everyone else called it a night.

He dropped his bag by the foot of the bed and sat down with the creaking of springs. This mattress was not going to be kind on his body. He would probably wake up in the morning sore and achy all the way up his spine and in his knees. Could already feel it. But it was what he got for finishing a rodeo and then immediately driving seven hours well into the night.

But he just couldn’t take it anymore. Couldn’t stand all his texts left unread. The few phone calls he was brave enough to make being ignored. He just wanted to know what happened. If it was something he did. Something someone else did. If he could fix it. If she would ever talk to him again or ever come back. If she was okay.

If she felt the same way he did.

Rhett didn’t even strip down to his boxers before laying back on a pillow and falling asleep. Just kicked off his worn boots and slept on top of the crusty comforter in his jeans and Carharrt.

In the morning, he would shower and go to the diner for some coffee, breakfast, and brainstorming. Because now that he was in town, he really didn’t know how he was going to do this.

Stepping into Odessa’s Diner was like taking a step back in time. The bell above the door still chimed the same. The place still smelled like fresh coffee and bacon grease. The classic fifties diner decor still remained. Even some of the patrons were ones he remembered from all those years ago. Older now, more white haired and wrinkled and staring at him with squinted eyes as he walked inside.

The hostess, Dina, greeted him like an old friend. A kind smile and a suggestion to sit wherever he would like. She even offered to give him coffee on the house but he refused. Insisting that he would pay for everything, including a refill for all the old farmers who now murmured to one another about him.

Ain’t he that Abbott boy ran off t’join the rodeo?

What I heard, he’s a million dollar bull rider now.

Bet he broke his mama’s heart when he left n’never came back.

Rhett sat down in a booth in the back. Stetson sat down on the table with plenty of room for the breakfast he ordered. Pad of paper and pen he nicked from his motel room blank and staring up at him like it was waiting for something incredible.

He wasn’t so sure anything incredible could come out of him.

Not words at least. But that was what he needed right now. Words. Something to say to her when he rolled up to her family’s ranch and, hopefully, found her. When he had to look her father in the eye and tell him he was looking for his daughter. When he finally saw her again and everything he had been feeling since she walked out of the rodeo world came bubbling to the surface.

Since she left him.

That made something sharp and angry stab at his chest. He knew they weren’t together. Nothing official, no string attached. A silent agreement between the two of them for the past five years. But still, it hurt. That she didn’t even think, or didn’t want, to tell him that she was quitting. That she just ghosted him after all that time. After all they had done and been through together.

Tessa was there through every injury. Even when she was states away, she would show up at the hospital — in his hotel room. With homemade soup he didn’t know how she got a hold of and a kind smile he felt he never deserved. She would take care of him. Make sure he actually healed instead of just making his injuries worse by working through the pain. Making him feel cared for and thought of and maybe even loved.

Tessa gave him haircuts in hotel bathrooms. Forced him to try new things. Encouraged him to be better than he ever thought he could be. Supported him in everything he tried to do, even if it failed. Let him in to the darkest corners of herself, maybe against her own will. Let him, even when she told him not to, take care of her when she needed it. With soup from a can that made her smile and the gentlest hand he could muster.

Surely just friends didn’t do those sorts of things for each other. Surely there had to be more there.

Rhett felt it. Hated that it took her being out of his life for three months for him to figure it out. That it took him that long to build up the courage just to go back to his hometown.

It was strange being back in Wabang. He didn’t expect nostalgia to taste so bitter on his tongue. Everything was the same except everything had changed. Maybe it was because he had changed so much. Gone was the eighteen year old kid who left that town like a bat out of hell with barely 200 dollars to his name, a hope, and a prayer. He was nearly twenty-four. He had more money than he knew what to do with. He had everything he could have ever wanted when he left.

Only now he was right back where he started — looking for the one thing he couldn’t seem to find.

It was still early, if Rhett had to guess. But the other side of the bed was empty and the beginnings of sunlight were hitting him in the face. He grumbled as he blinked his eyes open, hand coming up to shield himself as he adjusted to the waking world.

But it didn’t take him long.

Tessa was standing in front of the sliding glass door that led out to the balcony. The curtain pulled back and the early morning sky painted in pastel blues, yellows, and pinks. She looked beautiful. Hadn’t even bothered to cover up as she stood there staring out into the world. Unashamed and confident and showing him that little mole shaped like a fish on her left ass-cheek. Her hair was all pulled over one shoulder, still a bit messy but shining in the light. He wanted to keep the image of her like that in his mind forever. Nearly leaned over and snapped a picture with his phone to do just that.

“What’re you doin’?” he asked groggily instead, not bothering to get up from the warm comfort of the sheets.

She turned to look at him and smiled tiredly. “M’flight leaves in a few hours.”

“Mm, no it doesn’t,” he replied, putting both his hands over his face and rubbing to try and wake himself up more.

“It doesn’t?” she laughed, “Pretty sure my ticket says ten — South Dakota to California.”

“Nope,” Rhett sighed.

He let his hands drop back to his sides and she was facing him completely now. Looking like a statue or a painting or something else beautiful and timeless that he had only ever seen through her. Rimmed in golden morning light and standing before him completely herself. How he always wanted her.

Tessa grinned at him as she crawled back into bed, let him guide her to straddle his hips and lean over him with her hair like a curtain on either side. Private and cut off from the rest of the world. Just the two of them in that bed with nothing else to do.

“What does m’ticket say then?” she asked quietly.

“That y’r gonna stay righ’here. In this bed.” His hands squeezed her thighs and a grin quirked the corners of his mouth. “Wi’me.”

“Jus’a few more minutes, bubs.”

That was the last time he saw her. She told him she would text when she landed in California, and she did. Then he got a few more in the weeks following. Pictures of sights in California, updates on her standings in the rodeo she was in out there. But after a while he never heard anything else. After that, it was radio silence.

Rhett sighed as he set down his fork and pushed a hand through his hair. His pad of paper was still empty. But at least now his stomach was full. Maybe that would get his gears going and he could think of something to say.

Where did he even start? Where to begin when he didn’t even know when he started feeling this way. He didn’t know he was there until he was already in the middle of it. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when things changed. When things turned from friendship and casual to something more for him.

He just hoped it was more for her too. That she was in the middle too and they could find a way to the end together.

But where to fucking start?

The bell above the door rang and Rhett looked up on some instinct the diner brought out of him. His heart hammered inside his chest.

It was Riley Lopez. Tessa’s best friend from back home. She came out to every rodeo that she could and seemed pleased that Tessa had someone in the circuit who was familiar and had her back. She was even the one who dared Tessa to kiss him on that drunken night when they were both starting out. Riley had to know where she was, if she was even at her parents’ ranch, maybe even why she came back home in the first place with only a vague explanation to her agent.

Dina greeted her with a smile as she grabbed a few menus. But Rhett didn’t even let her get to a seat. Before he even really knew what he was doing, notepad and tact thrown out the window, he was up and stopping her in her tracks in front of the cash register. She looked shocked to see him, brown eyes wide and lips pressed into a thin line.

“Rhett,�� she spoke his name like an exclamation.

“H-Hey, Riley, s’been a minute.” He tried to smile, tried to act casual and not like his heart was about to beat out of his chest.

“Sure has,” she replied, narrowing her eyes at him. “What’re you doin’ here?”

“H-Have y’seen Tess?”

She stared at him for a minute, and Rhett began to squirm under her brown-eyed gaze. She always had been good at doing that. Seeing past the tough exterior he liked to put up to keep people at arm's length and see into the heart of him. It was probably why she trusted him with her best friend’s life — maybe even her heart. Didn’t mean he liked when she did though, when she seemed to x-ray vision him down to the soul and see what his real intentions were.

But what Riley seemed to find resolved something within her. Her expression softened, Rhett even thought she might have looked at him with pity. He swallowed something thick.

“Um…She’s meetin’ me here for brunch, actually. Should be here any minute.”

Rhett felt his stomach drop — like he was on some roller coaster he was forced to go on. Holy shit. She was going to be here at Odessa’s. He wasn’t ready. He hadn’t written anything down yet. He didn’t know what to say or even what to think. His mouth was suddenly dry, his tongue too big for the space. What was he going to say? I love you. I’m so fucking pissed at you. You scared me. I’ve been so worried. I love you and I don’t know when it started. Why did you leave? Why didn’t you tell me? I love you.

He swallowed down his spit but it didn’t help the dryness, rubbing at his jeans. “R-Really?”

“But there’s somethin’ y’should know —”

Riley didn’t get to finish her sentence. The bell above the door chimed again and they both looked to see who it was.

And there she was. Looking like a statue or a painting or something else beautiful and timeless that he had only ever seen through her. Rimmed in mid-morning light and standing before him completely herself. How he always wanted her. Standing on the diner welcome mat with a fading smile on her face and blue eyes as wide as saucers. Staring at him and him only. Like they were the only two people in the whole of Wabang. Rhett couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth, the warmth that filled his chest as he stood in her radiant presence once more. Somehow even more beautiful than the last time he saw her.

I love you, I love you, I love you. He couldn’t think about anything else now.

He also couldn’t stop his gaze from sliding from her face to take in the rest of her. She had cut her hair just a little bit shorter. Had on a jacket to keep out the early spring chill over a yellow floral dress. His favorite color on her.

Her hand rested over her abdomen. Cupped a distinct roundness that hadn’t been there before. Rhett’s heart sank with understanding in his chest while the breakfast he just ate rose to the surface.

His eyes drew back up to her shocked face. “Tess?”

For a moment, her bottom lip wobbled. Her eyes glassed over with unshed tears. Then she turned on her heel and went right back out the door. Like a bat out of hell. Like the diner was on fire and she didn’t care to save it. Inside of Odessa’s was dead silent save for the sounds of the coffee maker and food getting cooked in the back. The old farmers kept their murmurings to themselves and Dina stared at the cash register trying to look like she didn’t understand what just happened. Rhett watched Tessa go through the front windows for a moment, too stunned to move or think or even breathe.

Riley was the first to speak. “Maybe I should go after her…”

But Rhett didn’t realize he was moving until he was pushing past her and towards the front door. Distantly, like from a different room, he could hear Riley calling after him. Telling him to wait, that Tessa clearly didn’t want to talk to him, that she was trying to warn him. But he didn’t care to stop and listen.

Outside, the sun was bright and birds were chirping in the cloudless blue sky. The occasional old truck rumbled by.

Tessa hadn’t made it very far away from the diner. She was leaned back against the brick building next door, hand to her chest as she breathed deeply. Rhett pushed a hand through his hair as he walked determinedly towards her. Strides long and steps purposeful against the concrete. Now he really didn’t know what to say. What even could he say right now that would make this better for either of them? Maybe he should just start with the truth — and how he wanted it out of her now more than ever. Is this why she quit? Why she had been ignoring him? Why she came back home? The pieces were falling together but Rhett didn’t like the image they made.

Did she not want him around?

She looked up at the sound of his steps, like she had been waiting for it. But still she made some noise of distress, one he had heard when she was too psyched out before an important ride, before she turned into the small alleyway between buildings. Rhett picked up his pace and followed after her.

“Tess!” he barked, maybe a little too harshly, when he stepped into the alley and she was still trying to run away from him.

She stopped. Her back still turned to him with her shoulders bunched up around her ears. Fingers death gripped around the handle of her purse. He slowed his steps the closer he got. Like he was approaching some wild animal. A baby deer stuck in the fencing for the west pasture with his mama just a few feet away. He tried to be as gentle as he could as he reached out to her. As he slipped his fingers around her wrist and tugged lightly.

“Will ya…Will ya jus’talk t’me?” he spoke quietly as she turned willingly at his urging, shoulders still tense and eyes downcast, filled with unshed tears.

He couldn’t help the glance down at her stomach again as he let her go. It was really there. She put her hand over it like that would help him not notice it. But it only made it worse. Made a stuttering breath leak out of his lungs as he willed himself to look her in the eye.

“Y’re…” he tried to say, tried to speak the obvious into existence.

“Yeah,” Tessa whispered, voice so small and full of tears. “M’pregnant.”

He didn’t have to ask if the baby was his. They both knew the answer to that. And he didn’t want to think about the implications of it right then either.

Rhett took a step back as he tangled his fingers in his hair, both elbows up as he processed and tried to think of what to say next. There was a tear tracking down her cheek and he wanted to wipe it away desperately. Wanted to just make it all better and make it go away and make like all of this never happened. Go back to that hotel room in South Dakota. When things were good and easy and known. But there was no going back. Not now. Not with her carrying his kid and unable to look him in the face.

“That why you left?” he finally asked after a minute of tense silence between them, dropping his arms back down at his sides.

“Racin’s not safe f’r the baby,” she answered with a swipe at her wet cheek.

“H-How far…?”

“Eighteen weeks.”

Something sharp and angry stabbed at his chest. Followed by the slow pain of just plain hurt. He knew he was grimacing just from the way she had wrapped her arms around herself, like she was trying to hide as much of herself as possible from him. Hands on his hips as he adjusted his stance, as he worked his tongue between his cheek and gums like he had a bit of dip there to mess with.

“Why…Why didn’you say anythin’?” he questioned quietly, trying not to just spit out every question he wanted to hurl at her with his heart spilled out on the asphalt between them. “I — I coulda…Why did…We coulda…”

Tessa’s chin trembled and another few tears slipped out. “I was scared, Rhett. And-And — And alone. I didn’know what t’do.”

“What were you so scared of, huh? You know you coulda called me and I woulda been on the next flight out to ya!” He was trying not to raise his voice, but he couldn’t help it as he pointed his hand at her — felt all that sharp anger and hurt.

“I know! I know that,” she said, tears coming nonstop now. “I’s just…I was scared about what you’d think.”

“What I’d think?”

“That you’d be mad at me. That you’d tell me t’get rid of it t’save our careers when I just…I couldn’t. That you wouldn’t want anythin’ t’do with me or-or the baby n’just keep livin’ your life. Keep drinkin’n’ridin’n’livin’ y’r dream.”

Rhett stared at her for a moment, chest still heaving as he fought down his anger and his pride. Would he have reacted that way? If he found out from the very start? When they were both still on the road and his career was really the only thing on his mind? He didn’t know. And that thought scared him. What kind of man was he if he didn’t know? If he wasn’t sure how he would have reacted? He thought he was better than that. That he was braver than that. And maybe he wasn’t. Because there was still a fear, a pit or a growing seed, in his gut that he couldn’t ignore. A baby. A whole new life. Responsibility and pain and so much love. He had never even thought about kids before. But now here he was. With Tessa. With the girl he went to high school with and kissed on a drunken dare in Montana. With the girl he was pretty sure he was in love with. With the girl he knew was going to be an amazing mother already. He didn’t know jack shit about being a father. His own messed him up to the point he never wanted to go back. He didn’t know anything about being a supportive partner during a pregnancy. Perry was never that good of an example with his wife.

But what he did know, right then, was that he couldn’t leave her alone. Not again. He couldn’t let her do this alone. He was willing to try. God, he was probably going to be terrible at it and he was going to mess up so much, but he wanted to try. For her. For the little baby they created.

“M’not mad at you, sunshine,” he spoke quietly as he took a tentative step towards her.

A small sob slipped past her lips, but she didn’t pull away. “Y’should be…I shoulda told you…M’sorry…”

Her head dropped into her hands and her shoulders shook with more sobs.

“Sunshine, baby, come’ere,” Rhett muttered as he put his hand on her shoulder and tugged her closer in.

He expected more resistance, but instead, she went willingly. Nearly fell into his chest as she wrapped her arms around his torso and pulled herself in the rest of the way. Four months without her touch. It was like a balm to burning skin as he slowly and gently put his arms around her. Pressed his cheek into the top of her head.

“M’not mad, I’promise. M’not,” he repeated, knowing she needed to hear it again.

Tessa only let out some strangled whimper into the fabric of his t-shirt in reply.

For some reason, it made him chuckle. “I don’know…How we’re gonna do this. But m’with ya, sunny, if you’ll have me.”

“Are-Are y’s-sure?” she asked, pulling away from his chest to look up into his face. “Wha’bout y’r career?”

“There’s more importan’shit than bull ridin’.”

It was an answer he didn’t even have to think about. That surprised him when he heard it rattling around in his own ears. Eighteen year old him would have shot him dead if he could hear him now. Giving it all up for a girl and a baby.

“I can’ask you t’do that.” She shook her head, pulled away from him completely.

Rhett swallowed, took a deep breath, put his hands in his pockets. “I’ve still got commitments n’I wanna keep m’word, but…I couldn’t — live with m’self if I let ya do this alone. Jus’as much responsibility as yours.”

There was conflict and questions swirling in those eyes big and blue as skies in July — like a summer storm was rolling in and Rhett didn’t know if it would knock his barn over or not.

Then she said, “We’ve got a lot more t’talk about then.”

“Ya hungry?”

“Starvin’, actually,” she laughed with a hand to her belly.

With a small grin, he nodded his head back towards the diner. “M’buyin’.”

They fell into step beside each other easily. In the small town where they grew up. Where they were maybe going to raise their own kid.

Too late to run now.

i no longer have a taglist, please follow @anniesocsandlibrary and turn on notifications for updates

#oc: tessa abernathy #fic: parenthood killed the rodeo star #fd: outer range #rhett abbott #rhett abbott x oc #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott fanfic #rhett abbott fic #outer range #outer range imagine #outer range fic #ocapp #fic update #rhett abbott x tessa abernathy #lewis pullman

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ineffable-snowman · 11 months

Text

WIP Wednesday:

modern AU divorced Obikin (getting back together eventually. but not yet.) This is the beginning of the fic I'm currently working on.

They did not have a messy divorce. They had a messy breakup but the actual divorce – the legal act – was a surprisingly civil affair. After everything which had happened it was weirdly anticlimactic. Maybe because Obi-Wan looked so tired with the dark circles under his eyes, and his neatly pressed suit seemed too loose on his body, like he had not eaten enough for weeks. Maybe because Obi-Wan agreed to all of Anakin’s demands, and that in turn made Anakin stop putting forward more and more outlandish requests, because he was not in it for the money. He did not need any spousal support from Obi-Wan, thank you very much, he was an adult and could get by on his own. So they went with everything the lawyer suggested, no more fights, even though Anakin was itching to pick a fight every time they met with the lawyer, anything to get some emotion out of Obi-Wan. To think that Obi-Wan had given up on them, on Anakin, still hurt but was not much of a surprise. But that Anakin was not even worth Obi-Wan’s anger anymore was worse.

There had been too many meetings like this (partly due to the fact that they had not thought they needed a prenuptial agreement, which made everything more complicated now): they had to listen to legal instructions, sign countless documents, exchange a few stilted words – never more than necessary: Obi-Wan in a low voice and without looking at Anakin whereas Anakin was boiling inside with rage.

And now, the final act. They had been waiting in the bare corridor for ten endlessly long minutes. Anakin was playing a stupid game on his phone to somehow pass the time and to give his restless hands something to do. It was not on mute: a final fuck you to Obi-Wan, along with the crumpled t-shirt and torn jeans he had carefully chosen to wear today. Two could play this game. Anakin would show him that he did not care either: that this day did not warrant a suit.

“Thank you for not pressing charges.”

Anakin jumped. Obi-Wan’s voice was quiet but he could as well have shouted. For a moment, Anakin completely forgot about his game. His heart was beating in his throat.

“I didn’t do it for you. I just told them the truth.”

Obi-Wan nodded, still without meeting Anakin’s eyes. “Still… It would have been easy.”

How could he! “Thank you for implying I’m such an asshole,” Anakin snapped. Obi-Wan shrugged and turned away – and said nothing else. Anakin wanted to grab him, shake him, shout at him, anything to get a reaction out of him. He was breathing heavily, trying to control himself.

“Mr. Kenobi, Mr. Skywalker.” The lawyer opened her door. “Please come in.”

From then on, every moment seemed to happen in slow-motion, every detail burning itself into Anakin’s mind. The lawyer explained the proceedings again, asked them once more if they still wanted to finalise the divorce (they both answered ‘yes’ in a cruel mockery of their wedding vows) and then it was time to sign the last document. Obi-Wan was first. He grabbed the pen and, without any hesitation, signed his name on the last page. Anakin almost gasped. Obi-Wan was still wearing his wedding ring. What the fuck? Why would he wear his wedding ring while signing the divorce papers? Anakin had not worn his for months, had viciously shoved it into the very back of his drawer to never see it again. Secretly he had always waited for Obi-Wan to show up, for one more fight, so Anakin could throw the ring at his feet in a dramatic gesture.

Now, Anakin reached for the pen (which Obi-Wan did not even hand to him, just placed it on the table between them) and, with a shaking hand, scribbled his name next to Obi-Wan’s. One last time: the names ‘Kenobi’ and ‘Skywalker’ next to each other.

“Alright then,” the lawyer said. “It’s done.”

Obi-Wan pulled the ring from his finger to give it to her. She chuckled.

“Oh, no, I don’t take the rings. I mean, it would be a nice extra income if all my clients gave me their wedding rings but I’m afraid I’m not allowed to accept them.”

“Then what do I do with it?” Obi-Wan asked, the frown between his brows deepening. Anakin had once thought it charming. Now he had seen it too often as a sign of frustration or criticism.

“That is entirely up to you,” the lawyer said. “The ring still belongs to you. In the end, it is nothing but a symbol, not legally binding.”

“I see.” Obi-Wan stared at the ring, clearly at a loss as to what to do with it. Then, slowly, he put it into the pocket of his suit.

Anakin could not endure it anymore. He stood up abruptly and left the room, hurried through the corridor and outside, where he could finally breathe again in the crisp autumn air. What came out of his mouth was a stifled sob. He pressed a hand against his mouth and staggered towards a bench where he sank down.

Then the tears started to flow. Bitter, hopeless tears. He could do nothing to stop them. They – he had thought Obi-Wan was the love of his life, they had promised each other forever, and now he was alone again, and it was worse than before because now he had lost: he had lost Obi-Wan, his belief in love and all hope.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a single person leaving the building: Obi-Wan. Anakin did not try anymore to put up a façade: no anger, no pretend casualness. Let Obi-Wan see him like this. He had nothing left to loose.

For a short moment, their eyes met. Obi-Wan stopped, and for one crazy moment Anakin thought Obi-Wan would come to him, sweep him up in his arms, they would cry and apologise and kiss love declarations into tearstained skin and would try again because in the end love always won, didn’t it?

But Obi-Wan did not cry. His face was set in stone. The moment passed. He averted his gaze, turned his back on Anakin and walked away.

#wip wednesday #obikin #modern au

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mysteriousooze · 1 year

Note

Any Valerie Gray headcanons?

Ohohoho now where did I put that soapbox...

Valerie eventually has to come to terms with her own ghostly nature. She has been imbued and empowered by nanobots and ectoplasm, and even when she isn't using any of it, she is different now

Technus is capable of mind controlling Valerie. Fortunately, he is stupid. He doesn't think to do so for a very long time, and it's obvious the moment he does

They never actually figure out how to prevent technus from controlling her. But thankfully he never gets good at it. Instead, he learns to fear being beaten like a pinata by teenagers

Eventually, the GIW is able to pick Valerie up on their sensors due to her super suit living under her skin

Valerie is not a halfa. She doesn't have ghost powers. To any ecologists, she seems highly contaminated and likely overshadowed.

Any attempt or even success in removing the ectoplasm and nanobots from her system will kill her.

Valerie was that kid who never missed a day of school even if she had the flu and everyone would have been safer if she had stayed home. Being sick just makes her stubbornly determined to persevere.

(Valerie stays home from school the day she realizes the anti-ecto acts apply to herself)

If Valerie were to ever come into contact with blood blossoms, she would feel pain within her entire body, followed by muscle spasms as if being jolted with electricity, and—with prolonged exposure—sores would open on her skin and start leaking ectoplasm.

Blood blossoms alone wouldn't kill her, unlike Danny. But they would weaken her immune system enough that something else likely would.

Valerie eventually develops a sort of sixth sense for electromagnetic fields

If Danny transforms into a human and keeps a lid on his powers, he can hide from the GIWs sensors. Valerie can never hide.

Valerie's eyes are opened to her own behavior toward ghosts after the GIW treat her as subhuman.

It's not Danny who saves her. It's Sam Manson.

Valerie's dad and Sam's parents work with the teen girls as they spearhead the ecto rights movement. Valerie becomes a figurehead. She hates it, but she hates the GIW more

Eventually when Valerie joins team Phantom, she learns that Tucker has been able to track her location using her nanobots this whole time

The more she learns about Danny's weird friends, the more she comes to respect them

Hey friendship with Sam is frightening to behold. The bond over the destruction of their enemies

She doesn't touch romance with a ten-foot pole, and is thankful nobody brings up feelings. Team Phantom have flashes of rage or betrayal or yearning, usually followed by an awkward silence. But mostly it's because they're low-key being hunted by the government

(Publicly, the government isn't hunting them at all. They strike indirectly, or when ghosts can take the blame. They place substitute teachers in Casper High, which is always badly understaffed. It's a strange cold war.)

Valerie never has the problems with controlling her nanobots that Danny did his powers, but sometimes her reflexes get the better of her.

Valerie would rather get angry than cry

She almost shot her dad once when he tried to wake her up from a nightmare. She bawled for two hours while he held her

Valerie sees herself as an adult after becoming a ghost hunter. She occasionally doesn't see Youngblood bc of this

She's honestly such a daddy's girl tho it's kind of embarrassing. If Young blood tried to sneak up on her while she was with him, he would immediately be spotted

Valerie never becomes one of the popular kids again, but rises above it all. She's the kind of powerhouse of a girl that kids part like the red sea to get out of her way

She doesn't become a leader so much as a linchpin of teenage civil disobedience

She knows everyone in Casper High. She has their phone numbers. She has their secrets. And she knows most have been trained with Fenton Blasters and are willing to use them

With a single mass text that the GIW is cornering Phantom, a flood of teenagers takes to the streets for their hero

Valerie isn't the leader of a teenage militia. But isn't not NOT a leader iykyk

Valerie eventually develops an affinity for controlling technology

Technus decides that she is his daughter

It's like a much less dangerous version of the relationship between Danny and Vlad

He still wants to take over the world but also considers himself to be a good father who does not fight his daughter

Team Phantom can recruit him as an ally

As an unrepentant daddy's girl, Valerie is filled with unquenchable rage at the presumption of this undead weirdo

Technus might have tried challenging Valerie's dad if team Phantom didn't keep gaslighting him that he couldn't tell humans apart "omg Technus that's not even her dad. He has a completely different eye color"

Valerie accidentally activates the nanobots inside of Jazz. They can't do all of the things that Valerie's does, but between the two of them, they figure out how to strengthen her, as well as make her immune to overshadowing

Nanobot buddies:)

Tucker is a mite envious

Dani is the little sister Valerie always yearned for; she feels like a partner in crime and like her baby girl all at once.

Jazz is the big sister she never wanted

Danny will never feel like a brother tho lol

Valerie and Danny have solidarity in helping each other avoid therapy with Jazz

All of their parents (except her own dad) trust Valerie implicitly for some reason. "Well if Valerie's there then whatever you're doing is okay" kind of deal

It baffles, outrages, and amuses the trio, bc Valerie is just as bad if not worse

Valerie is a force of nature

Valerie will continue to hone her ghost hunting abilities. Not bc she hates ghosts; to protect the ghosts closest to her heart

Bc Vlad Masters is the real monster, and he is escalating. Someday, someone will have to put him down. And he's already in her sights.

#you activated my trap card #this was a fun ask ty #valerie grey #valerie gray #technus #dp technus #dp trio #team phantom #dp au #dp meta #red huntress #dp headcanon #danny phantom #dp #long post #ask

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thefreakydeaky · 7 months

Text

After the Thrill is Gone

Part Eight

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Negan Smith x Reader

Modern AU

Summary: From the first moment you laid eyes on Negan you were inexplicabley drawn to him. The passion between you is hot and only grows more intense the longer you see each other. There is only one problem, you're both married to other people.

Warnings: Dark Fic , Stalking, Stalker behavior, Smuttyness, Adult Language, I'll add more warnings as I post, so please check the warnings for updates on each chapter.

You parked your suv outside of your mother's house and turned to Hunter and Millie.

"Everybody remember the rules?"

"Don't touch anything." Hunter replied. "And don't go to other rooms."

"No playing rough and no running around." You reminded him.

He nodded.

Once you got Millie out of the car seat, you walked up the lawn to the front door and rang the doorbell.

You stood there for a few minutes and when no one came, you pressed the button again. Another few minutes passed and finally you heard the door being opened.

"Hello Sweetheart." Your mom greeted you, pulling you toward her to hug you.

"I see you brought Camilla with you."

"Of course, I did. Why wouldn't I?"

"I thought your mother in law babysat for you?"

You fought the urge to roll your eyes.

"Ma doesn't watch Millie all the time only if I really really can't find anyone else to watch her."

"Oh? Why is that?"

"She's in her late seventies. She can't be chasing after a little kid."

"Neither can I and yet I babysit for you regularly."

"First of all, you're only in your sixties. Secondly you won't have to chase her. I'm here. She will be fine, Mom."

She gestured for you to go passed her into the house and you did. The large foyer was redecorated in a classic italian style, earth tones, marble, and metal work. You waited for your son to catch up to you before you headed into the formal living room.

"Would you like something to drink? Iced tea, Lemonade?" She offered.

You declined, but Hunter asked for lemonade.

"I don't know if I have any plastic cups. Let me see." She left the room.

You could see Wyatt in the dining room doing homework. You went up to him and touched his shoulder.

"Hey Pumpkin, You okay?"

He nodded.

"We're gonna leave soon, so start getting your things together."

"Kay." He replied.

Your phone rang. Adjusting Millie on your hip, you picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Doll."

You sighed and hurried back to the living room.

"What do you want? I'm busy."

"Hey now, I just wanted to check in. You didn't pick the kid up from practice today."

"You're right. I didn't and I won't be."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because you can't seem to get it through your fucking head that I don't want anything more to do with you!" You snapped.

He laughed.

"It's not funny. I mean it. Stay the fuck away from me." You stated.

"Oh it is funny. It's funny how you keep forgetting that I have the power to ruin your life."

Your finger slid toward the end call button.

"If you insist on not co operating, I'm going to explode your whole fucking world."

You gasped sharply.

"I want to know if the girl is mine. You are going to fucking meet me at the San Jose Clinic on Donovan road at eleven tomorrow or I'm going to show up at your house and ruin your six o'clock dinner time."

You squeezed the phone tightly in your fist.

"Are you done?"

"Don't take this lightly. I am a man of my word."

"I heard you. Can I hang up now?"

"Just one more thing," He added, "You look foxy today. Those leggings hug your body just right and that top...Mmm mmm mm..."

Your cheeks warmed.

"I see you. Even when you think nobody's looking."

You clenched your jaw. Your mom came back into the room and you relaxed your facial expression.

"Thank you for reminding me of my appointment. I'll be there. Good Bye." You forced yourself to say and hung up.

"Who was that, Sweetheart?" Your mom asked.

You put a small smile on your face.

"Just the doctor's office." You lied.

"How civil of you to talk to them. I just hang up.I know when my appointment is. I'm not senile."

You nodded in aknowledgement.

•••••••••••••••••••••

He sat in his truck watching the large two story house. It didn't matter what you said. You were his. It was simply the truth. There was no going back to your old life. He couldn't believe you hadn't realized that yet.Before long, you were coming down the lawn, your ducklings trailing behind you. He watched you all get into the suv. He waited for you to drive off down the road for a second before he followed behind you. Just far enough behind to avoid suspicion.

#negan smith x reader #negan x reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader

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shouldershimmycity · 2 years

Text

Brother Knows Best (Rooster x Sister Reader)

"Hey! I absolutely loved your latest fic! Is there anyway I could request a reader who is Roosters adopted teenage sister she’s like 16 or 17 and he has custody over her.

Maybe she gets involved with a older guy who is around 19 or 20 and Rooster has a huge problem with it and starts a fight because he is so over protective and can see that he is bad news, and the reader sneaks out that night and runs away to the guy but ends up getting hurt and Rooster and maybe Maverick find her and she apologizes and it’s just a cute sibling moment.

I would love if you could write this but I also completely understand if you can’t!! Thanks in advance!!!"

FIRST OF ALL, YES I CAN ABSOLUTELY WRITE THIS!

SECOND OFF ALL, I LIKED THE IDEA TOO MUCH TO NOT WRITE IT TONIGHT SO MERRY CRISIS/CHRYSLER/CHRISM TO YOU DEAR ANON! *MWAH!* I KNOW IT'S KIND OF SHORT BUT I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!

TW: Assault, swearing, and being drunk

*****

You were tuning out your older brother. He was in the middle of scolding you for something you didn’t care about. He was too uptight, being a military man. You on the other hand, were the complete opposite. You weren’t even related to Bradley by blood, which explained so much about the differences between you two.

Carole Bradshaw adopted you when you were six, and she died when you were ten. You loved her to death, but it made you upset to think about her when you ended up with him. Bradley was such a friggin’ control freak and it drove you up the wall. You looked over to find Bradley staring at you, waiting for a response.

“Sooooooo are we done?” you asked him, the boredom dripping from your tone. Bradley made a face that was something between frustration and just giving up.

“You’re not seeing Jared again. He is seven years older than you! You are seven-fucking-teen!” he ordered.

“You joined the fucking Navy when you were eighteen, I’m basically an adult, Bradley!” you shouted back. He looked around and threw his hands up in the air.

“I got a JOB, when I was eighteen, I didn’t date a MINOR!” he countered.

You rolled your eyes and walked upstairs, Bradley shouting after you. FUCK he was so annoying. You slammed your door for good measure, and turned to read the text message that had caused your phone to ding.

“Hey baby, we still on for tonight?”

You texted Jared back with zero hesitation, wanting nothing more than to piss your brother off again.

“Hell yeah. Do you have my fake ID for me?”

‘“Course babe. Can’t fuck shit up without one.”

You turned your phone off and grinned like the Cheshire cat.

Excellent.

*****

Bradley sat on the couch, flipping through the TV blankly. Maybe he was too hard on you. He knew you had been given the crappy cards, crappier than his. But he just wanted you to be safe, that’s all he needed to know. He sighed and turned the TV off, it was nearing eleven thirty at night and Bradley wanted to try and have a civil conversation with you so he could sleep alright tonight.

He trudged up the stairs and knocked on your door lightly. You didn’t answer. He looked at the bottom of your door. Lights are on. He turned the knob and the door creaked open quietly. The pilot stuck his head into your room to peer around. SHIT. He pushed the door open all the way and looked chaotically around your empty room. He opened your closet to make sure you weren’t hiding from him, and he looked around maybe six times until he realized he was just spinning in circles.

Ripping his phone out of his pocket, he called the only person who knew you better than Bradley did.

“Maverick, my sister snuck out, and I think she ran off with that dickhead boyfriend,” he explained quickly.

“Any idea where they might have gone?” he asked, putting his shoes on in the background.

“None, maybe a bar? She wouldn’t go to the Hard Deck, Penny knows her. God, Mav, I have no idea,” he said, his words rushed and nervous. Maverick was quiet on the line for a second, and Bradley waited for the older man to answer him.

“Let me make some calls.”

*****

You were on the beach, sitting in the bed of your boyfriends truck. There was a bonfire going while Jared and his friends drank all the liquor your group of “friends” had collected. You were drunk, but not as drunk as Jared.

Jared was going on a very loud tirade about how all military men were a bunch of cowards and bitches. It was starting to make you uncomfortable. You often got pissed off by your brother, but he was a hero for all the shit he’s done and gone through. Don’t even get started on Maverick. You would defend your uncle until the day you died. You were starting to want to leave.

You saw it before you heard it, what with traveling faster than the speed of sound. An F/A-18 flew in a low pass past the beach, and you smiled a little. Late night training. Jared, on the other hand, threw a bottle into the air, with the hope he could hit the aircraft that only a drunk man could have.

“FUCK! OFF!” he slurred, shouting. Alright, enough was enough. You got out of the bed of his truck, hopping down to talk to Jared.

“Jared, I’m ready to go now,” you stated. He gave you a sneer.

“I’m not going anywhere yet,” he said. You stared back at him.

“But I want to leave now,” you said, trying to reason with him. You didn’t like Jared when he was like this, drunk off his ass.

He turned to look at the rest of the group, who were glaring at you, then backhanded you across the face so hard you fell into the sand. His rings had cut your face in a few places and you stared at him in shock.

You stood back up shakily and he punched you in the gut, knocking the wind out of you. You looked at your boyfriend with wild eyes, unsure why he was doing this. He slapped you once more and this time you didn't stick around. You were, literally, pounding sand. You ran into the dark night, unsure of where you were going to go.

You needed your brother.

*****

“They’re down by the beach, I had some late night trainees see if they could find his truck anywhere public they might be,” Maverick said, hanging up his cellphone.

Bradley’s phone began to buzz and he answered it before he could even read the caller ID.

“Hello?” he asked, frantic.

“Rooster, I just saw your sister come into the Hard Deck about five minutes ago. She was looking for you, man. She’s got some cuts and bruises on her face,” Bobs voice filled the other end of the line, full of concern, “I tried to make it over to her but she left and I couldn’t find her.”

“Bob! You’re the best!” Bradley hung up his phone and grabbed his keys. On the way out to his Bronco he told Maverick the information Bob had relayed to him.

The drive to the Hard Deck was about ten minutes, and Rooster gripped the wheel like his life depended on it. He was so concerned with finding you, it left the question of what Jared had done to you unanswered. Was Jared looking for you too? Were you in danger? Rooster was so caught up in his thoughts that Mavericks cry of surprise made him jump.

“There she is!” he shouted, pointing you out. Bradley pulled over and his headlights showed in your face. You squinted and prepared to bolt, scared that Jared found you and wanted to kill you or something.

Then you heard your brother and Maverick call your name, Bradley walking out from behind the bright lights.

“Bradley!” you sobbed, running into your brother's arms. You hugged him so tight he could take 9Gs of force and say awake.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again! Oh my god are you hurt?” He pulled you away to look at your face. Bob was right, you were super banged up. “What happened? Did he do this to you? I’m gonna fucking kill him.”

You hugged Bradley again, sobbing loudly, and he just cradled you, rubbing your back and telling you it was all gonna be okay.

“I’m so sorry Bradley,” you cried, pulling away, “I should have listened to you, the guy is a FREAK!” You hugged your brother again.

He didn’t care whether or not he was right or wrong, but he was right. He wasn’t going to ever vocalize it to you, but he just stood there, appreciating the fact that you were safe in his arms, his baby sister.

*****

“Bradley!” you shouted.

“Will you hold on just one second!? God you are so impatient!” he complained across the house.

You sat in front of the TV with the remote in your hands, as Bradley walked in with two bowls of ice cream. You laughed, then looked at him with the most intense deadpan stare that you could muster.

“Bradley, is the ice cream in your hands, fudge brownie?” you demanded.

“What else would it be?” he asked, concerned.

“Thank God,” you smiled. Bradley shook his head at your antics, handing you your sundae.

“You forgot my sprinkles, fucker.”

“Get them yourself.”

“If I ask for sprinkles, I expect sprinkles Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw!”

“Just press play.”

“Okay.”

#rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw #rooster top gun #bradley bradshaw x reader #topgunmaverick

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twothpaste · 9 months

Note

Y'ever think of what Aloysius and Lardna are like in Intermission? Yeah, they both suck, but they are both crucial to Porky's character, so they remain unavoidable. (You can pick Ness's parents or Paula's or even Pu's who have to exist but are never seen if you prefer tho :] ) They'd all be interesting, but you most certainly do not have to talk about them all now!

Oh, my friend, ask and you shall receive. I'll cover all of 'em.

Aloysius is a conservative sleazeball banker. Probably just about the worst guy ever. Divorced Lardna when Porky was 13, but the kids were still compelled to see & visit him periodically. He's been an unrepentant abusive parent since day 1. Picky avoids him like the plague. Porky absolutely despises him - all the while unwittingly regurgitating his beliefs and behaviors. There's this whole dynamic where Aloysius was smothering Porky in cash and expensive gifts (Mercedez Benz baybeeee) when he first started college. But then Porky's excessive demands and (admittedly reasonable) lack of gratitude got on the big man's nerves. The uh. Airbnb Incident. Was the straw that broke the camel's back. Aloysius cut him off financially, leaving Porky to come cryin' to Lardna for help.

Lardna's almost as awful, reigned in only by her wet blanket second husband, what'shisname Prettyman (one of the funniest Earthbound npcs I think). The kind of mom who's always got something to nitpick or chastise about, sometimes uproariously, with not a damn thing nice to say. Her fights with Aloysius persist years after the divorce, much to everyone's displeasure. She cuts Porky off, too. Big surprise. There's an awkward period where Porky tries to get Picky to be the middleman between them, but even Picky's had enough by that point. Poor Pete hangs in there, stuck living with Lardna 'til he graduates high school. After that he moves out, with intent never to return.

There's kiiind of this sad dynamic with the Minches, where like? Peter (Picky) is the only decent person here. And for a while he tries his darnedest to hold his splintering family together. And he gets nothing in return for it, not even from Lardna. I think he was closest with her, but even she becomes a lost cause, taking her frustrations out on him in Patrick n' Aloysius' absence. The bravest thing this kid ever does is tell her off and leave, on his own initiative. If they ever make any effort to patch things up, it'll have to start with an apology from Lardna. Miracles do happen, Pete supposes, but he's not holdin' his breath.

Anyways. On the absolute opposite end of the spectrum, Ness' mom is very sweet and silly. I named her Kathleen, Kathy for short. She loves kids, was always welcoming Ness' n' Tracy's friends for sleepovers, adores and dotes on every single one of his buddies. She's known Picky, Paula, Jeff, and Poo for years - she's practically like an extra parent to them. Her instinct to mother Lucas n' Claus is immense. Ness thinks it's a little embarrassing, Tracy thinks it's Very Embarrassing, but what can ya do. She's got a sad little empty nest thing goin' on, as Tracy gets ready to leave for college too. Even though Ness is going to school like, within 30 minutes of her house, and visits often. Maybe she'll get a cat. Or a girlfriend.

Mr. Kimura is as absent and busy as he always was in EarthBound, but also just as fond of frequent phone calls. Ness inherited from him a love of baseball, classic rock, old video games, and road trips. His car's also a hand-me-down from Dad. I don't think he's obscenely rich enough to be depositing hundred thousand dollar checks into his kids' bank accounts on the daily, but he makes plenty to help 'em with young adult expenses like college and rental deposits. He's a funny, laidback, good-humored guy. Kind of a calming counterbalance to Mom's pent-up energy.

Ness' folks got divorced when he was like, fifteen or sixteen. It was all on civil & amicable terms - mom could hardly stand dad's perpetual work trips, dad thought that was fair. Tracy was more shaken up about it than Ness, bein' younger than him. And since she's such good friends with Picky, she had a pretty nasty impression of What Happens To Families After Divorce. Thankfully, the Kimuras ended up going about it quite smoothly.

I wrote a lot about Paula's folks [here]. Her relationship with her neurotically tyrannical mom n' her poor ineffectual dumpling dad makes me ache so much. 🥲

Poo Rana is the so-called "Prince" of the Kansas State Senate, because his Mom's a revered Kansas State Senator. His dad's in politics too, though not quite as prolific. He grew up rich and esteemed, smothered in extracurricular activities and accolades, prepared at every stage to follow in his folks' footsteps. Then, as a teenager, he realized he doesn't want anything to do with any of that actually. So there's this weird tension between him and his mom. 'Cause he loves his family dearly, and doesn't wanna let them down. But he's a free spirit at heart, he can't give up his whole life on the altar of "royal" expectations. There's this bit during his senior year of college, where his mom's running for a spot on the U.S. Senate, and she's tryin' to rope him into helping with her campaign. While Poo rebelliously sneaks out of fancy dinners and plays D&D with his friends. He and Paula share a lot of solidarity, both bein' stifled by their overbearing moms. He's honestly got it a bit better than her, though. Senator Rana may be intense, but she's not petty or underhanded in the slightest. One of these days Poo will convince her he really is better off living his dreams as n anthropologist metalhead tabletop nerd, and one of these days she'll listen.

#thank you 🙇#ask tag #intermission au #welcome to the Shit I Just Made Up marathon

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websterss · 1 year

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𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒 — 𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐘 𝐂𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐀𝐌

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓: heyy you're so talented, if i may can i request a one shot where corey sneaks into fem!reader's bedroom when she's grounded. you can take the rest wherever you want but can this be the primary focus 😭 -lots of love @gr4veyardg1rl

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒): Angst and fluff

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1,829

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Corey Cunningham x fem!Reader

𝐀/𝐍: I hope you like it! <33 REWRITTEN!!!

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

You never doubted yourself when you found solitude staring up at your white ceiling, sprawled back on your bed. Your room was your place of comfort, the only real space where you felt the safest and away from harm. You couldn’t complain...yet when confined within the fours white walls, well it certainly gave off imprisonment rather than a sacred chamber. Living with your parents while trying to begin financially supporting yourself was a process in itself that you wished would go by faster. Moving out took time sadly. The harsh reality of your situation. You loved your parents dearly, but there were times that they could be unbearable.

The rattle of your door knob didn’t distract from staring at your fairy lights over you.

“Y/n.” The sound of your mothers voice made you roll your eyes. Her next attempt was trying to get you to go down and have a civil dinner with her and your dad. You weren’t having it. First she complained how you had a terrible habit of staying up too late. Claiming that you could handle doing such a thing at your age, but when you get to her age. Sleeping late would come to bite you back in the ass. Next she said she had every right to remove your laptop from your possession. Berating and asking what you did on it all night. What grabbed your attention on the device? What importance being up all night on it had to you?

It was simple really. You just wanted to write away until you had a bad case of carpal tunnel. It was your coping mechanism, your escapism from the real world because when the real world had nothing to offer you, fiction offered you a whole new world to hide behind. So when she claimed to worry about your state of being and health. She took the laptop and grounded you.

Grounded in your twenties. You got a laugh out of how ridiculous it sounded. Much more when you couldn’t even meet up with Corey to go to the movie theater.

Your hands on your stomach and your phone next to you as you waited for the familiar picture of Corey’s cheesy smile to light up your screen. The second your ringtone went off, you were snatching your phone and rolling onto your stomach to answer the call.

“Hiiii.” You exaggerated like you always did when you answered a call.

“Hi peaches wanna tell me why you’re not standing right next to me at the theater?” Corey looked around as people passed by him. Some bumping into him, and others not paying him any mind. He bit his lips nervously. One hand pocketed into his blue bomber jacket, while the other held the phone up to his ear.

“I can’t make it-” You began.

“What the hell do you mean you can’t make it?” Corey’s eyes widened. “We’ve been talking about seeing this movie for weeks now!”

“I’m held up in my cell at the moment.” You fiddled with a lose string from your stuffed animal in front of you.

“You got arrested?” You moved the phone from your ear as Corey practically yelled into it.

“No...” You sighed heavily. “It’s much worse, I fear. I got grounded.”

“What- Oh shit!” Corey finally dawned onto your words. “Seriously?” He complained. “They do know you're an adult now, right?”

“Corey I don’t think they seem to grasp the concept.” You dejected. You ran a hand down your face. “Anyway, I can’t go.” You trailed off. You shook your head. You felt incredibly stupid.

“What’d they take this time?” Corey looked down at his shoes.

“M-My laptop. All my shits on there Corey.” Your voice broke. “It’s not fucking fair. It’s like they have this—-this need to constantly try to control my life. Have me by the collar or some shit. I’m so done with them!”

“I’ll be over in a bit okay.”

“What?”

“Yeah. Just give me a few. I have to make a quick stop first, though.”

“Wait no Corey—-bitch I’m grounded!” You tried reasoning, but the call ended before you could attempt to do so. “Hello…Corey?” You pulled the phone back now seeing your lock screen picture of you and him. His lips squished against your cheek while the crinkles in your eyes were visible. Your smile lopsided as you thumbed over his stupid face. You flipped back onto the bed as you waited for him to arrive.

You didn’t know how long you had been scrolling through your phone until the melodious thuds against the window glass grabbed your attention. You shot up into a sitting position. Your eyes falling onto Corey sheepishly smiling at you. His backpack on his back and his glasses slightly sliding to the tip of his nose. He pushed them back up when you walked over to unlock it and provide him entry into your bedroom.

“Nothing to fear, your favorite person is here.” He smiled your way. A smirk painting his face.

“Debatable.” You snickered at him. Leaning forward to get closer to his face.

“Indisputable.” He shot back.

“Disputable.” You couldn’t fight back the smile on your face.

“Alright stupid, you gonna let me in or are we gonna settle to see who has a bigger vocabulary?” Corey let out a breathy laugh. You gave in and stood back as he not so smoothly made his way inside. You groaned as you practically dragged him through your window. The swing of his long legs knocking over something on one of your dresses by the window. You winced as the item fell with a loud thud. Cursing at him to keep quiet. He groaned once he stood tall. He set his bag down at the edge of your bed then turned his whole face to you. Before you knew it his arms had wrapped around your shoulders pulling you into his chest. Your voice muffled as he pressed your face into his chest, but he let up to allow you to relax in his grasp. You breathed in his cologne for a bit, letting yourself get familiar with the scent once again before you finally let your hands slide over his waist and rest on his lower back. He smelled like home. He felt like home.

“Turn that frown….upside down.” He sing-songed into the side of your face. He pressed a kiss to your temple before pulling back and dragging you over to your bed. “I come bearing gifts, peaches.”

“Is it my laptop?” You pouted, falling down onto the mattress.

“Well…” You perked up and sat up. You gasp seeing him pull out your silver device.

“No fucking way. Corey, are you serious?” You hit him watching his face contort into pain. “Oh my fucking god!” You exclaimed. Throwing yourself over him and peppering his cheeks with your apple flavored lips. “How did you—“

“Yeah your mom saw me pass her window. She stopped me before I made my way over.” Corey grimaced up at you.

“Unbelievable. She’s trying to butter me up.” You scoffed when you took the device and walked it over to your desk. “But thanks, I owe you.” You had gently gripped his chin and pressed your lips to his cheek again. Your hand lingers before pulling away. “So is that all you brought with you or is that it?” You gestured to his bag.

“How dare you assume otherwise.” He looked offended. Then he pulls out a take out bag from your favorite place to eat. You gawked at the food, hearing your stomach growl, then looked back at Corey.

Corey, Corey, Corey.

“If you’re still single by the time you’re thirty, I’ll fucking marry you, Corey. I’ll have your babies despite not wanting children.” You took the food from him after a kiss to his cheek again. “To hell with your mom too. I will!”

“Yeah…is that a promise?” He couldn’t help a small tinge in his heart. He honestly would love nothing more. You stopped mid phase of opening the box. You looked up at him, to see him waiting for your response patiently. Your heart skipped. He looked more relaxed than usual. His chest was open to you. He had leaned in closer to engage with you more. What was happening right now? Your eyes relaxed. You weren’t stupid, even though you tended to act as though, to save yourself from confrontation. You couldn’t with Corey though. That’s not how this dynamic of yours worked. You told each other everything. You both were extremely comfortable with one another and extremely affectionate. He was your person and you his. You’d want nothing more than a lifetime with him. An eternity if it was possible.

“You know what—-yeah. It’s a fucking promise.” You set the food down and leaned forward offering up your pinky to him. Corey was at loss for words now. He stared down at your pinky, then back up to you. “Well don’t leave me hanging.” You half heartedly laughed.

Your laugh died out when he reached forward to cup your face. His lips were the next surprise as they pressed against yours. You let out a meek noise of surprise before you settled into the kiss and let your lips move against his. You had closed your eyes to dwell in the moment. You breathed in and out heavily through your nose as he squeezed your hips, pulling you onto his jean clad lap. Thighs on each side of him. You pushed him back slightly, in need of oxygen. Corey’s chest rose and fell heavily as he tried to catch his breath. His forehead fell against yours. You felt the movement of his head. Shaking his head no.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized.

“You’re sorry?” You questioned.

“N-Not about the kiss…I just—-I don’t want to wait that long to be with you.” Corey licked his lips before continuing. “I’ve loved you since middle school, and I have loved you since high school, but I don’t think I can make it through college.“ He let out a breathy laugh. You smiled back.

“You’ve loved me for that long?” Your nose scrunched up. Your eyes doe and your head tilting at the thought. Your heart yearned and longed.

“I’ve always loved you.” He corrected you. “Loving you never had a limit.“

“Yeah?” Your voice came out breathy.

“Yeah!” He exclaimed happily. It was such an overwhelming feeling of relief and joy…and love. You leaned in and pecked his lips sweetly.

“I cannot believe my mom saw you.” You laughed. “You suck ass at sneaking around.”

“Yea I know…” Corey closed his eyes in defeat. “Your dad did too by the way. He waved at me.”

“He waved at you?” You looked at him incredulously.

“He waved at me. I was scared.” Corey laughed. He kept on rambling. You and him continued to laugh and enjoy each other's company for the rest of the night.

#corey cunningham #corey cunningham x fem!reader #corey cunningham imagines #corey cunningham imagine #corey cunningham oneshot #corey cunningham x reader #my gif #writings by juls

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godfrey-hath-forsaken-thee · 5 months

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MY PLAY!!!

Strictly Professional

by Godfrey

Character Breakdown

Samantha McDermott: 45, she/her, businesswoman in Galway City, Ireland. She's bi, and a flustered disaster, but tries to appear well-put-together - even if she does have a bit of a temper.

Fiona Galvin: 42, she/her, also a businesswoman (though a less successful one) She is, funny enough, also a flustered bi disaster. She never quite managed to keep composure the way Samantha does, and she often gets emotional.

Amaya Nicholson: 29, she/her, Fiona's assistant. Sensible, practical and very clever. She's more than a little frustrated with her boss.

Frederick Walsh: 43, he/him, Samantha's assistant. Very classic-English-butler vibe about him. He's smooth as you like, and more than willing to go along with anything that'll work.

(Script under the cut, this may get expanded on in the future but idk)

Scene 1

We are in a meeting room, with a table and chairs in the middle of it. Successful businesswoman Samantha McDermott sits on one of these chairs, while her main corporate rival-slash-kind-of-aquaintance, Fiona Galvin, sits on the other. They are in the middle of a very heated argument, and Samantha and Fiona’s assistants, Frederick Walsh and Amaya Nicholson respectively, can only stand and watch, wondering what the hell their lives have come to.

Samantha: I’m telling you, Fiona, this strategy isn’t conducive to my business!

Fiona: Spoiler alert, Samantha, it’s not your business, it’s mine!

Samantha: If we’re going to do this, we need to do it properly.

Fiona: Well, excuse me!

Samantha gets up from her chair, wearing an ungainly scowl.

Samantha: (in that cold, deadly tone that’s somehow worse than her yelling) Don’t test me.

Fiona gets up too.

Fiona: (trying to sound braver than she is) I’ll test you all I like, thank you very much.

The two of them glare at each other, ice-cold fury in their eyes. The tension between them is palpable.

Amaya can’t stand this anymore.

Amaya: God, would the two of you shut up?!

Samantha and Fiona turn to Amaya. Fiona’s gaze lingers on Samantha for a moment longer.

There is a frosty silence.

Amaya: Now, let’s go over this one more time. The two of you are supposed to be signing the papers for a charity partnership, but you’re too caught up in this stupid, pointless rivalry the two of you have!

Samantha: It’s not pointless….

Fiona: (turns away and sulks)

Amaya: You could be a force for good in this world if you work together, but no! You had to get into this absurd turf-war over your clients!

Samantha: (pointedly) Well, maybe if Fiona here would actually tell me who her clients were, misunderstandings like the one that happened last week could be avoided-

Fiona: (jumps in) I was not responsible for-

Samantha: (raising her voice) It was literally your fault!

The two of them begin squabbling again.

Amaya: Let me finish! (silence for a moment) This has been going on for years, and I, for one, am sick and tired of it. You’re both mature adults, and it’s time you started acting like it.

Samantha and Fiona walk off, fuming.

Frederick: (turns to Amaya) I don’t see what’s so difficult about acting civil around each other.

Amaya: I know! I just don’t get it!

Frederick: We have to do something.

They both think for a moment.

Amaya: (brightens) What if we set them up on, like, a blind date?

Frederick: (intrigued) Oh?

Amaya: If they won’t co-operate by themselves, we’ll have to take matters into our own hands.

Frederick: Are you sure it’ll work?

Amaya: (shrugs) No way to know unless we try. Now, where should we have them meet?

Frederick: Oh - there’s an Italian restaurant in town.

Amaya: Consider that table booked.

Frederick and Amaya high-five, and walk off.

Scene 2

We are in an Italian restaurant. Romantic music and the smell of fresh pizza fills the air.

Enter Samantha, stage right, and Fiona, stage left.

Samantha and Fiona look at each other in disbelief.

Samantha: Fiona?

Fiona: Samantha?

Both in unison: Oh, come on!

Fiona whips out her phone and calls her assistant, Amaya Nicholson, whom she knows is somehow behind this.

Enter Amaya, stage left, smiling in a very satisfied way.

Fiona: Amaya Nicholson, I swear to God, I am going to kill you!

Amaya: Surprise!

Fiona: You set me up on a blind date with my sworn enemy! What were you thinking?

Amaya: Just see how it goes! The two of you have a lot in common - an interest in business, a love of Celtic tradition, you’re both very successful-

Fiona: Are you kidding me? We hate each other’s guts!

Amaya: She’s a great person, once you get to know her. This could be fun for you!

Fiona: Now you listen here-

Amaya pretends that the phone line is breaking up.

Amaya: Oh no - I’m going through a tunnel - I have to go - goodbye.

Amaya hangs up the phone, and Fiona walks over to Samantha, who is sitting at a table. Fiona sits opposite her.

Samantha: (coldly, not making eye contact) Hello, Fiona.

Fiona: (nervously fixing her hair) Hello to you too, Samantha.

Samantha: So, your assistant set us up.

Fiona doesn’t respond for a few seconds. Her chin is resting on her hand as she looks dreamily at Samantha, admiring her in that red dress…

Samantha: (snaps fingers) Hey - Earth to Fiona, do you read me?

Fiona snaps out of her reverie at once, giving her head a swift shake.

Fiona: Guh - what? Sorry, sorry, I just... Yeah, no, that’s not on.

Samantha: I assume she thought it was going to make us like each other.

Fiona: (awkwardly) Haha, as if! No way, no sir! (to audience) What is wrong with me tonight?

Samantha: (sighs) Well, even if this goes as badly as we both know it’s going to, at least we get a free dinner out of it…

A waiter enters, stage right, looking very dignified.

Waiter: Are you ready to order, ladies?

Samantha: Ah - yes. I’ll have the pasta carbonara, please.

Fiona: Caesar salad for me, and a bottle of whatever you think’s drinkable in this joint.

Waiter: I’ll see to it. Oh - may I say, you make a wonderful couple!

Samantha chokes, turning away.

Fiona slams a hand onto the table.

Fiona: What?!

Waiter: Well, I’ve never been one to judge, and I just think it’s so nice to see love winning. Anyway, I should get on with your order…

The waiter walks off.

Samantha takes a deep breath, trying desperately to compose herself.

Fiona: What in the hell was any of that?

Samantha: (fighting back laughter) He- he thinks we- you and I - oh Lord…!

She bursts into a sudden fit of high, crisp laughter that is absolute music to Fiona’s ears. It lasts a few seconds, and then she gives a soft sigh.

Samantha: I’m sorry, it’s just, I never thought of things like that. I mean - I’m that way inclined…

Fiona: As am I-

Samantha: But I suppose I didn’t ever think we’d be mistaken for a couple, is all.

Fiona: Well, we certainly argue like one.

Samantha: We do. And we have meetings in places like this, apparently.

Fiona: Hey, just because it was my assistant that set this up, doesn’t mean this was my fault. Trust me, I’m as upset about this as you are.

Samantha: She’s right, though - this could be a chance for us to get to know each other better.

Fiona: Shut up.

Fiona leans across the table and gives Samantha a gentle shove.

As the evening goes on and the wine flows, Samantha and Fiona loosen up and actually start to get on with each other.

Samantha: (slowly) You know what, Fiona?

Fiona: What?

Samantha: I thought this was going to be an unmitigated disaster.

Fiona: That makes two of us…

Samantha: And, well, it… It would appear I was mistaken.

Fiona: (brightens considerably) Hang on. Did I hear that right?

Samantha: Oh, now, don’t you even start…

Fiona: (over-the-top voice of reverence) The high and mighty Samantha McDermott-

Samantha: We are not-

Fiona: Who can do no wrong-

Samantha: (gives a loud, vocal sigh)

Fiona: Has admitted defeat?

There is a pause.

Samantha has never dealt well with that word.

Samantha: (tone dripping with sarcasm) Well. You would certainly know defeat when you saw it, wouldn’t you?

Fiona: (mocking sweetness) And what, pray tell, is that supposed to mean?

Samantha: Only that your company and my company have been at each other’s throats for as long as either of us can remember, and you’ve never once managed to get ahead of me.

Now it’s Fiona’s turn to be uncomfortable - in this, as in damn near everything else, they’re pretty much evenly matched.

Fiona: Now, now, there’s no need to address this here-

Samantha: Oh, but there is.

Fiona does not like the look of this conversation.

So she pulls her best card.

She gives a sultry smile.

Fiona: If you don’t stop talking, right now, I’ll have to shut you up with my lips.

Samantha draws back, shocked.

She is, to put it bluntly, a flustered mess, and her face makes it crystal clear.

After all, Fiona is rather pretty…

Samantha: You- You…!

Fiona: Go on. Say it. Hit me with your best!

Samantha: You… bad person!

She gets up and takes her phone out of her bag, walking off.

Samantha: (furiously) Frederick, bring the car, I’m going home.

The waiter returns with the cheque.

Waiter: (notices Samantha’s empty chair) Ah. Rough night?

Fiona: Don’t.

#writers on tumblr #my ocs #godfrey's random rambles #writeblr #samantha mcdermott #fiona galvin #💜business partners💜

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the-paris-of-people · 1 year

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Truly I need to talk about the under-appreciated gem that is Canaan Green. We talk about Lila, Kimberly, Leighton, Nico, Whitney, Jackson, Tatum, and semi-Alicia (I really feel like the Alicia underappreciation is REAL) but aside from the break-up with Whitney, I never see anyone talk about Canaan as a character and a love interest.

Our first introduction to Canaan is that he's incredibly funny. The way he flips the script on Kimberly when she asks him what it's like being black at Essex by fabricating a story about his crack-addicted mother is absolutely hysterical and the way he drags Lila into it as well makes it for an excellent scene, one of my favorites of season 1. I love his reactions to Kimberly's antics, like when she pulls the hard-boiled eggs out of her pocket, Christopher Meyer's comedic timing is just absolutely excellent and I feel as if not enough people appreciate those little moments in which he infuses Canaan's reactions.

Canaan is probably one of the most multi-faceted, well-balanced students we've seen at Essex so far, or at least a great example of one (Honestly they're all killing it at college). In s1ep5: That Comment Tho, he tells Kimberly to focus on her Econ homework instead of obsessing over the comment from Nico on her Instagram. We know that he works several jobs, including at Sips and on the side picks up catering gigs. At the beginning of season 2, we learn that he has a detailed ten year plan to become a hedge fund manager of an impact investing firm, then later we learn he founded a startup to off-set the cost of AD treatments. At the Econ banquet, we also learn he was in the top of THREE of the professor's classes, so clearly he takes his schoolwork seriously enough to perform well too. He also has an active social life at the KJ House, has time to date, and has several friends with whom he hangs out. He's incredibly ambitious, hardworking and balanced as a student, and what's shocking of all of this information, is that he's incredibly humble about it. He didn't want to go to the banquet to accept his Econ department award for whatever reason, and Kimberly, who worked with Canaan ALL YEAR, was shocked go hear about his accomplishments.

I always think it's telling if a person is kind or not by how they treat multiple people, and Canaan treats Kimberly, Whitney, and Lila really well throughout the series. He and Lila are clearly close friends at the coffee house and he sings her praises to the customer in the episode where Kimberly encourages Lila to interview for the manager position, and he takes Lila home when she's too sick at the Winter Underland party. Although I don't like that he didn't tell Whitney about Zoe's feelings for him, I thought it was really mature of him to call their relationship off before they could progress any further after she snooped through his phone. No one I ever knew from college, or even anyone I knew who is an adult now, could ever have the foresight or self-awareness to do anything like that. Even after their breakup, he's kind to Whitney when he sees her around, actually acknowledges and is civil to her. AGAIN, way more mature than any breakups I saw at that age. In general, I really thought Canaan treated Whitney well while they were together, he was really kind and encouraging and the "talking behind her back" he did was honestly just normal conversation to friends about the person he was dating and he immediately apologized and reassured Whitney when she brought it up. Canaan is also clearly so openly appreciative of Kimberly in several instances throughout the series, to giving her a cut of the tips they made when she helped him with the catering gig at the comedy gala (which was wholly unnecessary and a very kind gesture) to thanking her MULTIPLE times throughout the night for encouraging him to attend the econ banquet and deserve his well-deserved recognition. Just by the way he speaks to others, he's very kind and gentle even when being sarcastic or funny or firm. Lastly, we learn that Canaan cares deeply about his family and thinks it's his responsibility to take care of his mom's AD, which is incredibly sweet and something I would love to see in the next season with Kimberly.

Canaan is also... fucking hot, let's be real. I mean, that face, that body, that smile? His romantic looks? I adore him. We learn more about him with each episode he stars in and there's clearly more to learn which I think also makes for a compelling love interest. IMHO Canaan is by far the best love interest on the show and an under-appreciated character and he needs more love

#canaan greene #this got away from me and i used like five of the same gushing phrases but idgaf #the sex lives of college girls #tslocg #kimberly finkle #whitney chase #lila flores #grace rants

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lampmanliveblogs · 7 months

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I found myself writing on this instead of answering the asks in my inbox. This is just a first draft, but I dunno, I think it might be okay. I haven't read through it yet though, this is fresh stuff. What do you guys think, is this something?

xxXXxx

Untitled TOH fic-vee tells the gang

[TITLE]

Vee watched Luz and Camila disappearing into the light of the portal, of to save the Demon Realm from whatever evils Belos was bound to bring upon that world with his return. The portal closed shortly after they crossed the threshold.

Vee could feel the scent of the spent magic lingering in the air. It was potent and powerful, but not unpleasant. The Titan’s own magic, such a primal, primordial force of nature that Vee doubted she’d be able to feed on it if she tried. It’d be like a human trying to eat and digest grass, if grass could also spontaneously explode. A bad idea.

The demon turned around to begin her walk back to civilization. A small smile played on her lips. Despite the difficulties they were bound to face in that realm, a realm Vee herself was not prepared to return to just yet, she couldn’t help but feel optimistic. If any two people could handle Belos and The collector, it’d be the Luz and Camila, the two coolest people Vee knew.

Well… they were at the very least in the top three of the list Vee kept of cool people she knew (admittedly, a pretty short one). One person in particular was very high up on that list. A stranger she knew very well, a raven-haired goddess, a clueless fortune teller.

Vee felt her cheeks heat up, and she quickly shook her head to try and clear it. She could think about those feelings some other time. For now, she had to focus on getting mom’s car back ho-

Her eyes widened and she shoved her hands into her pocket. She had her phone and… that was it.

”Shoot!” she yelled at the sky. The moon looked down on her, it’s cold light coloring every shadow blue. ”Camila still has the car keys!”

Well. That was her good mood ruined. Grumbling curses under her breath, Vee made it back to the town square where the festivities were winding down. She threw the car a dirty look, like it was its fault that Camila had brought the keys with her like some kind of responsible adult. Now she’d have to walk all the way back home, get the spare, walk back here and drive the car home. Or maybe that could wait until tomorrow?

Whatever. She had a lot of time to think about what she’d do next.

She walked along the streets of Gravesfield. By now, most trick-or-treaters had trick.or-retreated back home with their bounty. A few jack ’o lanterns still spread some light onto the streets, alongside the streetlamps and other decorations. The buzz of the last few organizers cleaning up after the festivities at the town square disappeared fast behind buildings as Vee navigated around them.

Her nose was a good deal sharper than her ears though and if she took a few deep breaths she could still feel a few faint scents coming from there. She took some joy in doing that, trying to disentangle the smells in her mind, try to keep them alive for as long as possible.

In a somewhat ironic twist, because she was so focused on trying to discern those quickly fading smells, she missed the one in front of her. Once she did notice it, she stopped dead in her tracks.

”It’s you!” yelled a familiar voice.

It was Jacob Hopkins, the man from the Gravesfield Historical Society, standing there, only a few meters ahead of her. Before Vee had time to get out of her daze, he marched up to her.

”It really is you!” he said again. ”I’d recognize those evil eyes anywhere! You’re my demon!” He grabbed her wrist.

”I-I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said and struggled to free her hand. She saw his eyes go wide and realized her mistake. ”Let go of me!” she said, this time imitating Willow’s voice, but it was too late.

”Don’t bother trying to distort your voice, demon, I see right through your tricks,” Jacob spat. ”Where’s the poor woman you enchanted as your thrall? Did you eat her, you vile creature!?”

”No!” Vee cried. She felt hot tears threatening to flood her eyes. Her heart beat fast and heavy and her breathing was ragged. ”Let go of me!” she hissed at him, this time with a much more animalistic sound. In her mouth, sharp fangs replaced dull incisors and puny canines. On her hands, soft human nails extended into sharp claws.

”Hey!” a third voice joined the growing chaos, causing both basilisk and man to turn their heads. Despite the situation she found herself in, Vee couldn’t help but find herself feeling a little relieved. It was the rest of the Cabin 7 Crew fast approaching.

Marco, dressed as a mummy, but with his distinctive bang still covering his eyes. It was a wonder he could see anything.

Samuel, dressed as a Frankensteiner, albeit a Frankensteiner with red hair and glasses.

And finally Masha, dressed as a witch, spearheading the trio, just as they did at summer camp as well. Always the first one to get them into trouble, and this time, the first one to arrive to help Vee out of trouble.

”What’s going on here?” they said. ”Let go of her, you pervert!”

”Wha-no!” Jacob exclaimed. He might’ve been some flavor of crazy, but even he realized how bad this must look to an outsider. ”You’ve got it around your back foot! It’s not what it looks like!”

”Really? Because what it looks like to me is that you’re trying to drag this poor girl off to do Goddess knows what!” Masha yelled back. Marco and Sam stood by their sides, ready to back them up should things get ugly (well, uglier). ”Let her go right now and we might not call the police.”

”I-it’s not like that at all!” Jacob said quickly, very keen not to get the police involved. He looked around, as if the fuzz were hiding behind the corners, ready to jump him. ”Listen, um… Sasha…? No, no, was it… Vasha? Whatever, it doesn’t matter.” He pulled on Vee’s wrist, making her stumble forward.

”This is no mere girl!” he exclaimed. ”This is a demon! She has come from another world and has been living among us humans for months! And now her allies, the witches have come too! They’re not here right now, they probably went back to their own world, but who knows when they’ll be back! You must help me contain this creature so we can warn the president! I’ll even let you collab with me on mewtube, once my account is restored!”

At some point, Vee realized that the best way to get out of this situation was to let Jacob keep talking. She retracted her claws and dulled her teeth.

Masha, Samuel, an Marco shared a few glances with each other. Vee knew them well enough to follow along.

”This guy is a loon,” said Marco’s gaze.

”I know you said he was a nutcase, but I didn’t realize it was this bad,” Samuel’s look said.

”Yeah, I knew it was bad, but not this bad,” Masha said with one stare.

Samuel stepped forward.

”You’re crazy,” he said simply. The he punched Jacob in the stomach. Hard.

Jacob made a funny sound as all the air in his lungs was forcibly evicted from his lungs. He fell to the ground, holding his tummy, letting go of Vee in the process.

”Come on, let’s get away from this creep,” Masha said, taking Vee’s hand. They gently coaxed Vee into following them, not that Vee needed a whole lot of convincing. They led her away from the gasping and writhing Javob while Marco and Samuel stayed behind for a while to make sure he didn’t try to follow.

”Hey, I don’t think I got your name before?” Masha said, in an obvious attempt to try and distract Vee from what had just happened. ”We met at the GHs yesterday, remember? I offered you a tour.”

”Y-yeah, I remember,” Vee said. Her heart was still beating fast, but sh was starting to get her breathing under control. Her fighting instincts had kept her hands steady, but now that the immediate threat of violence was gone, they started shaking a little. ”I’m Vee. And,uh… as much as I would like that tour, I think I just wanna go back home right now,” she said, an attempt at levity.

Masha nodded.

”I saw your friends at the Haunted Hayride, but I didn’t see you.”

”I was back at home with mom,” Vee said, so focused on trying to calm herself down that she let her mouth go on autopilot. It took her a moment to realize the slip-up. ”Or, uh, I mean.. aw geez, I misspoke, I didn’t mean to say-”

”Hey, hey, calm down, Masha interrupted the panicking basilisk. They led Vee to a car and opened the door to the front passenger seat. They made Vee sit down. ”Just take it easy. That creep didn’t hit you, did he?”

Vee shook her head. She massaged her wrist. She could feel where he had squeezed her, although the thing was was more annoying to Vee was that she could still feel the scent of him on her hand. Seeing as she had spent the first decade and a half of her life in chains, a little pain in the wrists she could handle. But she hated the smell of him and if she ever had to feel his stink on her again, it’d be too soon.

”No, I’m fine,” she said finally.

”You sure?” Masha said, somewhat skeptical.

”Yeah, I’m sure, I promise” Vee said. ”I was just a bit shocked. I mean, this was a lot, even for him.”

”Yeah…” Mashas aid, their thoughts trailing off. ”I mean, I knew the guy was unbalanced, but not that he was this unhinged…”

Marco and Samuel came walking back to the car.

”What a wimp,” Marco said succinctly. ”I think he’s still lying there.”

”Serves him right,” Samuel spat. ”He should be lucky to get off so lightly.”

”I tied his shoestrings together for good measure,” Marco said and hopped into the backseat of the car.

”And I threw his wallet and keys onto the nearest roof,” Samuel continued, following his friend. ”So that should keep him occupied for a while.” His face got a few degrees more serious. ”Should we call the police?”

”N-no,” Vee said quickly. ”I don’t think it’s necessary.”

At the time she didn’t know it, but she was right. In trying to get his wallet and keys back, Jacob would wake and nearly scare the life out of the poor souls living in the house. He ended up getting arrested for trespassing. It remains to see if he learned his lesson from that.

”Alright, if you say so,” Masha said. ”At the very least let me drive you home. Or do you have a ride?”

”I’d like that,” Vee said. ”I, ah… missed the ride home.”

The ride home was spent mostly in silence, broken mostly by Vee giving Masha instructions on where to turn. Marco and Samuel introduced themselves, unaware that Vee already knew them very well.

Vee had some time to think during the car ride. When Luz returned from the Demon Realm and reclaimed her life, Vee had stopped hanging out with her old cabin mates. With all the new friends in the house, Vee hadn’t realized just how much she missed them. Now that longing feeling was very palpable within her. she wanted to start hanging out with them again.But she couldn’t… or… maybe she could…

”There you go,” Masha said as they pulled into the driveway.

”Wait…” Marco said slowly and scratched his head. ”Isn’t this where Luz lives.

”Yeah, I live here too,” Vee said. I’m, uh… well, you see… it’s complicated, but, ah… Camila lets me live here.”

She saw Masha looking at her, clearly remembering the comment Vee had made before about her mom. They didn’t say anything.

Vee took a deep breath, gathering up all the courage she had. ”Grow a spine,” was the human saying. Vee was snake, she had plenty of spine.

”Why don’t you guys come inside?” she said quickly, not giving herself enough time to chicken out. She was going to commit to this now. ”I… would like to thank you all properly for helping me out!”

The three of them all checked their phones.

”It’s getting pretty late and we were supposed to sleep over at my parent’s place,” Masha said, hesitating. ”But I’m sure they’d let us sleep at Mrs. Noceda’s house, right?”

”It should be fine,” Samuel said, already typing a text for his parents.

”I don’t care,” Marco said and shrugged.

”Sounds like its decided!” Vee said, a little too chipper. ”Come on!”

She lead them inside the mostly dark house.

She gestured towards the sofa.

”Sit down, sit down, I’ll go get snacks,” she said and hurried out into the kitchen. Her friends were left in the dust, looking around the cluttered living room. It looked like whirlwind had rampage through the room, throwing pieces of costumes all around. If the room hadn’t been so dark, they might’ve noticed some of the pictures on the walls showing off some things they were not supposed to know yet.

In the kitchen, Vee breathed heavily.

”Come on, you can do this,” she mumbled to herself while she fixed the snacks. ”You escaped the Emperor’s dungeons and evaded his scouts. You can tell your best friends a secret. It’s not that hard. They’ll still like you… yeah! Us weirdos stick together, that’s the Cabin 7 way!”

”Hey, Vee?” Masha’s voice interrupted the basilisk’s pep talk and nearly made her shed her skin at record speeds.

”Y-yes!” Vee almost yelled, and spun around in place.

”Is Luz home?” Masha asked. ”Cause we haven’t talked to her in ages…”

Masha’s usually confident eyes flickered won for a few seconds. You wouldn’t think a lack of something can feel like a stab, but it did to Vee. That sealed it in her mind. she was going to do this.

”Yes… or no. No, Luz is not home right now,” Vee said. She grabbed the snacks and led Masha back out to the living room. ”She and Camila are away, it… was avery sudden thing.”

”…okay?” Masha said, confusion on their face. Again, they shared a look with Marco and Samuel, both of them equally as confused by Vee’s cryptic words.

”I’ll explain, I swear,” Vee assured them, not that it did much to help ease their worried minds. ”but it’s a long story, so you might wanna sit down. She gestured towards the sofa again. Her Cabin 7 mates sat down, only hesitating a bit. Vee dumped the snacks on the coffee table and grabbed a chair for herself.

Vee felt around inside her second stomach. She had absorbed a fair bit of magic from Belos during the fight before. Amity and Willow had left plenty of abomination slime and enchanted plants behind. there should be a bunch of residual magic energy for her to scarf down. She could afford to show off a bit.

”Have you guys noticed something… off with Luz lately?” she asked. ”In the last tow months or so… almost like she became a different person over night.”

The three friends thought amongst themselves. Not that they needed to give it a whole lot of thought, because they had already talked about it with each other, more than once. Not only had Luz more or less ghosted them and started hanging out with a bunch of strangers from out of town (one of whom might be her girlfriend), her personality had completely shifted. The nervous but curious and kindhearted Luz they knew from camp was gone. Almost as if… almost as if she became a different person overnight.

Vee could see on their expressions that this was the general lines of thinking in the group.

”What I’m about to say next might sound insane, but I can guarantee you, it is the truth. All I’m asking is that you listen to me and… maybe don’t be too angry with me… okay?”

More glances where exchanged.

”Vee… what’s going on?” Samuel asked finally. ”Is…something wrong with Luz? What happened to her? And what does it have to do with you”?

Vee took a few quick, sharp breaths. She was about to go against every instinct in her basilisk brain, instincts ingrained into her very core by countless of generations before her. Here goes.

”The Luz you met at camp wasn't the real one,” she said, forcing herself not to talk to fast. She enunciated each word, making sure there wasnät any room for misinterpretation. ”It was me. I was disguised as her and took her place. It was an accident, I didn’t mean to, but… well, I think it worked out for the better for the both of us.”

”I… don’t get it.” Marco was the first one to speak. ”What do you mean you took Luz’ place?”

”I know it’s probably a bit hard to believe, I mean, me and Luz donät look or sound a lot alike,” Vee said. A small smile played on her lips. ”But how about now?” she said, speaking with the voice of Luz.

The Cabin 7 Crew sat still as rocks while their tired brains tried to process what was going on.

Vee giggled.

”S-sorry, but you look so funny,” she said, sounding exactly like Luz from camp. She stood up from her chair and spun around in place, transforming into a splitting image of Luz from camp. No, not a splitting image. The original image, because that was Luz from camp. ”How about now? Do you believe me now?”

Masha gripped the armrest of the sofa so hard their nails threatened to rip the fabric.

”Explain, they demanded. ”Right now.”

”Sure thing, though it’s a long story, which is why I brought snacks,” Vee said, this time with her regular voice. Titan, that must be so bizarre to the poor humans. ”There is a world beyond this one. A world of magic, and witches, and demons. Demons like me. I’m a basilisk.”

Masha raised their hand.

”No, you won’t die if you look at my true form,” Vee said.

Masha lowered their hand.

”That rumor started by witches because… well, you see, we basilisks eat magic, that’s how I can transform.” Vee paused and thought for a second. Her captive audience waited with bated breaths and eyes as big as dinner plates. ”You know what, this is probably not the right order to take things. Let’s start on that fateful day when Luz, the real Luz was waiting for the bus to take her to summer camp. As she stood waiting, she spotted a strange owl which she followed into an abandoned house in the woods…”

#fanfic #first draft #might publish for real once i've cleaned it up a bit

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fuck-customers · 2 years

Note

This is a fuck managers and coworkers.

I am non-binary and open about it. I tell all my coworkers my pronouns (they/them) and wear a pin with them on everyday. I get misgendered all the time still.

One day, a coworker called me "she" and I calmly corrected him. He proceeded to yell at me for it, saying he didn't care how I felt and that he wasn't going to change his language for me. I just walked away and into the break room as I was already going there anyway. While I was in there, he called our manager and had another coworker give me the phone. Manager told me I wasn't being civil or acting like an adult. She also said it wasn't fair to correct him at all. I told her that a civil adult would take being corrected calmly and with respect. I also said that my pronouns were there for a reason.

She then docked my hours for the best three weeks. I'm already on part time so I was making next to nothing. However my coworker wasn't punished at all.

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echoarts03 · 1 year

Text

In Defense of Persephone (Lore Olympus)

Many seem to argue that Persephone is portrayed as a bratty, pampered baby in Lore Olympus. I don't agree, to be honest. I love the series and how it portrays her. She's strong, compassionate, empathetic, and avoids conflict as much as she can. (or until someone manages to push her over the edge, which is something I think we can all relate to)

Please keep it civil if you think otherwise, okay, guys? Be adults. I am not here to start a fight, only to discuss why I think some people are wrong about Persephone.

Continuing on reading this means you are going to act maturely as requested of you by me if my opinion isn't like yours. You have been warned.

Point 1: Demeter is a Helicopter Mom

What many people SEEM to forget and/or overlook about Persephone's character is that Demeter was and still is not only a helicopter mom, but she also treated her like a baby up until the day she moved to Olympus. She even went as far as to raise her like one would a mortal, which is brought up in episode 177 during Hermes' backstory on how he met Persephone during the trial.

She is only just now getting a breath of fresh air. She didn't know how to properly adult just yet because Demeter kept her so isolated for almost the entire first two decades of her life. But now she has people like Hades, Hera, Eros, and sometimes even Artimis in the earlier chapters who are helping her figure it out and teach her the way of the world.

Hell, the poor girl didn't even know how to use a PHONE, and Demeter only let her get an email because her school required it.

Point 2: The Act of Wrath

On the topic of the trial, what happened wasn't her fault in the slightest. It wasn’t a kid throwing a tantrum as I have seen people say it was, what happened was a result of disrespectful mortals destroying a sacred ground and pissing off a fertility Goddess who had no control over her powers and wrath.

It wasn't Demeter going. "Ohhh, baby, it's okay, mommy will just pay off the messenger God to stay quiet! That way, there will be no repercussions on your part!" nonoNO, that is NOT how it was! It was Demeter trying to protect Persephone from Zeus' bias towards Demeter, now leaking into a form of bias towards Persephone.

Hades even goes on to explain that Gods make acts of wrath all the time anyways, and as long as they have enough mortals for their amusment, why should this be treated any differently?

It really does go to show how biased Zeus can be, and how just because Persephone was a lesser-known Goddess, he thought it would be okay to treat her as lesser than.

Point 3: Persephone's Kindness

Persephone has gone through a lot of character development, but I think a LOT of people mistake her kindness and openness to help others as childish. She may have started off as childish, but now she is a queen with a loving husband and subjects who also love her too.

What everyone seems to gloss over, however, is her ability to be so ruthless when someone really deserves it, like with Apollo in chapter 98, the photographer who was Hera in disguise in chapter 54, and most recently, Kronos in chapter 206.

Kindness is NOT ignorance in 99% of cases. There can be the occasional dumbass in the mix, sure, but in most cases, kind people are very smart and know when situations require a different approach.

Anywho, thank you for coming to my Ted Talk. Please keep it civil in the comments, and have a good day!

#lore olympus #lore olympus persephone #lore olympus demeter #lore olympus hermes #lore olympus hades #lore olympus hera #lore olympus apollo #lore olympus artemis #lore olympus zeus

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harmonyindark245 · 1 year

Text

One Last Time [Chapter 8]

Summary - Elain and Azriel have known each other since they were 11 and had never been separated. But when their view for their future no longer matches, things break apart between them, causing a rift which had never been fixed. Elain goes on to become a neurosurgeon, while Azriel works for the deadlier part of the community. Ten years later, their lives get entangled as they cross paths, this time stakes much greater than just their hearts.

An: All characters belong to Sarah J. Maas

Warnings: Mature language, violence, alcohol consumption, smoking, drugs

Hope you all enjoy!

Masterlist

Songs:

Lie To Me - 5 Seconds of Summer Disturbia - Rhianna One Last Time - Ariana Grande

Something was wrong.

Azriel had begun suspecting it ever since they had picked up Elain and Daemon and had not heard a single word from Graysen since then. And then the day he had gotten shot, he knew there had been someone else after both of them.

Azriel had also not gotten to figure out what Graysen had meant when he said that Rhysand was on a ‘deadline’. Along with that, there had been multiple attacks on Graysen’s companies, but somehow, they never affected his dirty business and he always came out as the victim, throwing their name in the dirt.

Three attacks and not a single one were orchestrated by them.

And Azriel knew that Graysen was aware of that, but still, he seemed to love blaming them for it. As if they were the only ones handling illegal businesses.

He was glad that Elain and Daemon were with him. Both adults had managed to remain civil with each other. Kind of like friends. Yes, it was awkward at times, but it was nice. Azriel thought he once again had something to look up for.

However, being confined to his house with only his office as a reprieve, there was not much Azriel could do. He had spent his entire ‘vacation’ spending time with Daemon, mostly playing video games.

Az’s competitive side jumped out when he first started playing JustDance with Daemon. He thought normal ten-year-old boys wouldn’t be good at dancing.

He was terribly wrong.

Daemon was apparently a pro at dancing and had, metaphorically, wiped the floor with Azriel. The worst part was the bragging and nagging that came after, even though Az tried to reason that he could only use one hand.

But honestly, even with one hand, he was fucking killing it. Never in his life had he thought that he would dance to Shakira’s ‘Hips Don’t Lie’ but, well, his life had been taking really sharp turns lately.

He turned around to complete the song with a final step of his own, only to find Elain standing at the threshold with a bottle of water in her hand, her eyes wide in horror. Beside her was Lucien, who was clutching his stomach tightly as he laughed.

Az instantly stiffened, ignoring the artificial applause coming from the speakers.

“Daddy! That's not fair! I lost!” Daemon exclaimed with a pout.

Lucien started shaking with laughter. “Az, I had no idea you were hiding a Shakira within you.”

Az growled at him. “Tell this to anyone and no one will be able to find you.”

“Too late,” Elain spoke up from beside him, her initial shock gone and now a wide grin threatening to break out. “I already took a video and sent it to Cassian.” She gave him a sheepish look.

Azriel groaned. Now, Cassian would probably have enough ammunition to last him a millennium.

“Dad, I want a redo,” Daemon said stubbornly.

Oh god, kid, please stop talking.

“Yeah Az, we need a redo,” Lucien said as he flopped down on one of the chairs in the corner. “Or wait, I have a better idea! Hey little man, what do you say? Should daddy put on a show for us?”

Elain giggled from behind him but instantly stopped when Azriel glared at her. Traitor.

“Don’t you have anything else to do Vanserra?” Az questioned with a sneer. Lucien smirked in response.

“Not at all.”

Thankfully, Azriel’s phone started ringing. He quickly walked towards his phone, picking it up. “Thank god you called.” He released a relieved breath. “You have no idea what I was going to have to do.”

“Yeah, well you’re not going to be glad when I tell you what happened.” Rhys’ voice came through the phone.

“What do you mean?”

There was a pause before he spoke up again. “It’s Graysen.”

~~~~~

Elain had noticed how Azriel’s whole body tensed while he was talking on the phone. He spoke quietly, so she couldn’t catch the conversation, except for the ending.

He turned towards Elain with a stern face. “I need you to remove my sling.”

Elain frowned. “I can’t authorize that. I have no idea how to handle wounds like these. Or what the standard procedure is, but I’m pretty sure the sling is supposed to stay until you’re wound is filled.”

He grabbed Elain’s hand and dragged her out of the room, Lucien and Daemon now busying themselves with another game. “ I don’t fucking care what the doctor’s verdict is. I need you to remove the sling. Today.”

Elain paused. “I want to come along with you.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

She inhaled deeply and sat up straight. “You’re obviously going for some super secret spy mission or whatever and I want to go with you.”

Azriel cocked an eyebrow at her and Elain exhaled frustratedly. “Look, I was about to get married to that man. I need to know what kind of man he truly is. And I can also keep an eye on you. Ensure you don’t cause more damage to your hand and back.”

Azriel scoffed. “I think I can manage strenuous activities.”

“JustDance does not count as a strenuous activity.”

“I was talking about how I carried you up to your room.” He mumbled while crossing his hands.

Elain’s eyes widened at the statement, but she held her ground. “I won’t remove the bandages restricting movement if you don’t let me come along.”

“Fine.” He started walking away. “I’ll get it done by someone else.”

Elain quickly dashed ahead and snatched the car keys from the bowl near the foyer. Azriel made a grab for it, but she moved away.

“Stop acting like a kid.”

“You stop acting like a kid.”

Azriel growled and pushed Elain against the wall, trapping her body with his. He bent down, his forehead against hers. Elain gasped, not expecting the closeness. Azriel turned his head slightly, breathing near her ear, a shiver running down her spine. He wrapped his hands around her waist.

“I won’t forgive myself if something happens to you.” He whispered into her ear.

Elain tilted her head up and looked directly into his eyes. “I have too much to lose to let something happen to me.” She breathed out. He once again rested his head against her forehead, his hands tightly clutching her waist, before he groaned.

“Promise me. Promise me you’ll run away at the first sign of danger.” Elain was silent for only a moment when Azriel pushed deeply into her, their breaths mingling, bodies meshing into one. “Promise me, damnit!”

“I promise.” She whimpered out, their lips just touching. She was about to reach out toward him when he moved away, holding his hand out.

“Get ready by nine, we’re going to a club.”

She placed the keys in his hand but dragged him to his room, where she silently removed his bandages.

~~~~~

Azriel spent the entire day preparing for the job. Rhys had informed him that Graysen would be holding an elaborate party at one of their own clubs, which they used for money laundering. It was suspected that Graysen might try and sell his own drugs there, and all Rhys had asked Azriel was to observe.

A large ‘Do Not Engage’ post-it was stuck on the folder that had been delivered to Azriel regarding the mission. He had not informed anyone that he was also taking Elain along with him, however, he believed he should, just in case something did happen.

Along with preparing himself, he also prepared Elain, informing her how to recognize if things were wrong and what to do if things went wrong. Unfortunately, he did not have enough time to teach her how to shoot, so he settled for showing her the basic way to hold a blade and the best places to stab someone for immediate effect.

He pretended to not notice how her hands shook when she first grabbed the knife. He tried to make it easy for her, telling her to handle it like a scalpel, but that did nothing to ease her.

When he knew she had had enough, he sent her to get ready, informing her to dress accordingly.

Which he was greatly regretting.

Apparently, dressing for a club for Elain meant dressing up well enough to kill him. Or make him want to kill anyone for looking at her.

She was wearing a black net blouse with a black bralette inside, leaving very less to the imagination. Below it, she was wearing a grey miniskirt that just reached her thigh. And then boots. Spike heeled, up to her thigh, black colored boots.

“Is this okay?” She asked meekly. She twirled and his breath caught when he saw her back. There was just a single string, leaving the rest of her back bare, the only thing preventing me from touching her is the black netted cloth covering her.

Is it okay? Oh God, fucking kill him already.

He just nodded stiffly, walking outside to where her car was kept. He swung his hand, trying to get used to moving it. He had promised Elain he would get it properly checked, as well as a complete blood test, to ensure there weren’t any traces of poison left in his blood.

Azriel slid into his car and grabbed the wheel as Elain sat on the passenger side. She looked around the SUV and smiled slightly. “You finally got an Aston Martin, huh?”

Azriel smiled hesitantly, remembering what they would discuss for their future. “Yeah, one of the first things I got when I started earning enough.”

“I thought you would’ve gone for a sports car or something. Not an SUV.” She pointed out.

“Well, that was the plan, but I don’t know, this car just kind of caught my attention.” He shrugged and she just nodded, turning her head away, indicating the end of the conversation. He maneuvered the wheel slowly, his arm slightly aching.

“Isn’t this kind of car for families?” Elain suddenly asked.

Azriel glanced at her. “Not exactly, but it is family-friendly. Why?”

She looked down at her lap where she was wringing her hands. “Do you plan to have a family? In the future?” Her voice was filled with uncertainty.

“Never thought of one without you.” He answered truthfully. She closed her eyes and exhaled, her shoulders dropping. Was she disappointed?

“What are we supposed to do?” She turned to look at him, her eyes standing out with black eyeliner and kohl.

“You will be doing nothing. I, on the other hand, have to observe and keep an eye out for any illegal drug activities.”

“Isn’t that something the cops should be doing?”

Azriel let out a chuckle. “Sweetheart, that’s our club. We can’t have someone else come in and steal our business.”

He glanced at her to see her face scrunch up in confusion. It looked so damn cute, even in the sexy dress. Speaking of the sexy dress, her skirt had inched up revealing her soft-looking skin and all Azriel could think about was how they would feel wrapped around him. Hopefully, while he was eating her out.

Shit, where did that come from? And now that it was in his mind, he started imagining how his hands would feel on her, inside her-

Stop. You’re driving. Nooo.

He instantly looked ahead, paying attention to the road and the road only, ignoring the slight pressure he felt in his jeans. He knew bringing Elain along would be trouble.

“So which club are we going to?” Elain asked, unaware of Azriel’s thoughts.

He continued looking ahead as he answered, “City Nights. You’ve ever been there?”

“Uh, no. My friends and colleagues go there but Graysen never allowed me. Although, he himself was there a lot.” Then she gasped. “What if we run into him?”

“Why do you care? Want to run into his arms the first chance you get?” Azriel grumbled out without a thought and he instantly regretted it. He glanced toward her and she was staring at him with wide eyes, hurt visible in them. “El, I didn’t-”

“You’re right. I will run into his arms. Because I’m desperate, right? I’ll go back to the man who doesn’t even care if I’m alive.” He furrowed his eyebrows at her and she scoffed. “Yeah, I heard you telling Cassian about it. How Graysen said that he would be okay with me and Daemon dying with you guys. He practically gave you a thumbs up to hurt both of us.” She shook her head. “Of course, I’ll run back to him.” Then she crossed her arms over her chest and completely turned away from him.

And he couldn’t help but feel like a major dick.

~~~~~

As soon as they entered the dimly lit club, Elain beelined towards the bar and downed three shots simultaneously. “I would like to start a tab.” She politely informed the bartender, who glanced at someone behind her, as if looking for confirmation.

Elain whirled around and found Azriel standing behind her, shaking his head in denial. Elain groaned in frustration.

“Don’t look at him. I am my own person. In fact, he’s kidnapped me and my son and is keeping us at his house forcefully. Be kind to me.”

She could feel Azriel rolling his eyes behind her. “Her drinks are on me. And keep count.” He leaned down, his lips brushing her ear. “I have to go up to the office. Stay here.” She felt his lips travel down her neck, her core tightening. She shivered in response and he smirked at her, leaving her at the bar.

Elain ordered a cocktail, nursing it for a while. She looked around when she found one of her old friends, Vassa, in the middle of the dance floor.

Vassa also seemed to notice her as she moved toward Elain. “Lainie! Oh my God! It’s been so long!” She exclaimed, pulling Elain in for a hug. Vassa was wearing a golden satin slip dress, reaching only to the mid of her thigh.

“What are you doing here?” Elain questioned. “Last I heard, you were working in Adriata in a lawyer firm.”

Vassa nodded. “I’m still there. I’ve been sent here for a client. What about you?”

Elain paused. “Oh, just letting off some steam.”

Vassa gave an obvious lookover at Elain. “You look like you’re looking for more than letting off a bit of steam.” She stated with a mischievous smirk. When Elain didn’t say anything, Vassa grabbed her hand. “Come on, I know exactly what you need.”

~~~~~

At the club. Will update if I see something. Azriel shot a message to Rhysand as he walked out of the back office. He hadn’t gotten anything out of the logs and information provided by the bar manager.

So Azriel was left with the old-style technique. Staking out.

Azriel groaned when he saw Rhys had sent a message. Perfect, and Az, we all know that your hips don’t lie.

He looked up towards the bar where Elain had been, but only now, she wasn’t there. He frantically looked around the entire area but couldn’t find her anywhere.

Azriel prayed to the gods above that she didn’t run away.

He moved through the dancing crowd, ignoring the way they were all practically groping each other. He reached the back exit when suddenly the door opened and Elain walked in with another girl’s hand over her shoulder.

The girl beside Elain was smiling widely, too widely, and she was wearing a golden dress that came up to her mid-thigh. She glanced toward Azriel and her gaze turned predatory. “Why hello there handsome.” She drawled. “I’m just finished here, wanna go next?” She winked at him and he widened his eyes at Elain who was grinning at the girl.

Did they-? Is she-? In the few minutes, she was missing, they-? The fuck?

Elain giggled and swatted the girl on her shoulder. “Don’t listen to her Az.” She looked at him with hooded eyes. “She’s a friend of mine from college, Vassa. Just found her here.”

He glanced at Elain who seemed to be all smiles and sunshine at the moment. Maybe the shots did their magic.

Suddenly Elain perked up and looked at her with wide eyes. “Ooh, I love this song!” She shrugged out of her friend’s grasp and clutched his hand. “Let’s go dance!” Before Az could even comprehend what was going on, she had already pulled him onto the dance floor and had her arms around his neck.

Az didn’t recognize the song playing so he started swaying along with Elain, tentatively placing his hands on her hips. She rolled her eyes and brought his hand right behind her, placing it on her ass. Azriel’s breath hitched and he glanced at Elain, who was smiling at him.

She moved forward and pressed herself into him, his jeans getting tighter and tighter by the second.

Fuuuuuck.

She probably noticed how much it affected him because she smiled mischievously and then she brought his mouth down onto hers.

He hesitated at first, utterly shocked at what the fuck was happening, but then he eased into it. Both of their bodies moved with the beat of the music, their lips molding together. She tightly grabbed his hair and tightened her hold on her. She bit his lower lip, causing him to open his mouth, allowing her entrance.

That was when he tasted it.

He was surprised he hadn’t smelled it on her before. It was the one scent he had an absolute aversion to, the smell of weed throwing him back to his childhood.

He moved back, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look up at him. She smiled giddily and her eyes were bright, but red and dilated. Her cheeks were flushed, and he knew it wasn’t from the dancing or the kissing.

“You’re high?” He asked her, but her smile was answer enough. He ran a hand through his hair. “You’re fucking high.”

“It was just one joint.” She said nonchalantly, rolling her eyes.

Who would’ve given her the drugs? She hadn't talked to anyone but him and… her friend, Vassa. He looked around to spot the woman and he saw her near the exit, leaving. Az moved ahead, but Elain pulled him back.

“Az, I want to dance!” She pouted at him.

He ignored her and pulled her along with him. He marched outside the club, and the cold air hit him. He remembered that behind him Elain would probably be freezing. Ignoring all the annoyance he felt towards her, he shrugged off his shirt and placed it over her shoulders, leaving him in a black t-shirt.

The girl was nowhere to be seen and any possible footprints were covered up by the heavy snow.

He turned around to drag Elain back into the car but she wasn’t there. Instead, she was walking - skipping - towards the bridge, singing ‘Play-Date’ loud enough for the dead to hear.

He rushed towards her when she suddenly climbed up on the ledge of the bride, causing his heart to drop.

The fuck did she think she was doing?

“Elain, get off of the ledge,” Azriel said calmly but she wouldn’t listen, continuing to walk around as if she was a fucking professional acrobat. “El, it’s snowing. It’s probably very slippery. Get down or else you’ll fall and hurt yourself.”

Instead of getting down, she started laughing. “You really think falling off this bridge is going to hurt me more than you did?” She laughed again. “You’re very, very, very badly mistaken Mr. Knight.” She spread her hands. “I could fucking die and it won’t hurt as much as living without you hurt me.” She started moving her hands up and down as she walked on the ledge, slightly wobbling.

Only this time, she didn’t place her foot on the ledge. “Woah!” She lost balance and stumbled, falling behind in the river with a splash with a slight shriek.

“Elain!” Without a thought, Az ran and jumped into the water following behind her. He swam deeper, finally reaching her outstretched arm, grasping it, and pulling it upwards. He broke through the cold surface of the water, chills traveling through his spine. Finally, her head came above and she sputtered. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” She shouted.

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? You just jumped off a fucking bridge!” He screamed in return. She started flapping her hands in the water and he swam towards her. As soon as Az reached her, she latched onto him. He held her up and Elain wrapped her arms around his neck, oblivious to the pain it caused his still-healing shoulder.

“I didn’t jump off, I slipped.” She stuttered out, shivering due to the cold.

Az scoffed at her. “It’s your fault for walking on the ledge. You’re lucky the lake isn’t iced over.” He looked into her eyes. “You normal now? Or do you want to try some more drugs?”

“Fuck you.” Trust me, he thought, I want you to. “It’s your fault I was in that state in the first place.” Azriel ignored her jab, dragging her towards the shore. “Actually, all of this mess is because of you. If it weren’t for you, I would’ve been back at my home with Daemon, living my normal life.”

“With Graysen? The man who treated you like trash? Who verbally abused my son?” She looked at him with wide eyes and then he finally registered what he said.

“Verbally abuse?” She questioned. Azriel just shook his head, telling her to drop it. “What do you mean, ‘verbally abused my son’?” She asked, her voice a soft whisper.

“You didn’t care when it was happening. Don’t care about it now.” He stated harshly, instantly regretting it.

She stiffened and he quietly carried her out of the water, not letting go of her until she was seated in the car. Az turned on the heater and passed her his jacket from the back seat. She quietly took it and looked out of the window.

He didn’t say anything, knowing that she would talk once she wanted to. Instead, he turned the radio on and Ariana Grande’s ‘One Last Time’ was playing. Both of them listen to it silently, watching the lights pass by as they drove back home, the lyrics fading one after the other, but still stuck with him.

One last time

I need to be the one who takes you home

One more time

I promise that after that I’ll let you go

~~~~~

They spent the entire ride back home in silence. Elain stilled, wondering when she started thinking of Azriel’s house as ‘home’. Azriel hadn’t uttered a single word throughout the whole journey and Elain was grateful for it.

She was still coming down her weed high. It was stupid of her, but her mind wasn’t working at the moment. She was already drunk, sad, and yes, lonely, so when Vassa had offered her a joint, she hadn’t given it a thought.

Elain didn’t understand what Azriel meant when he said that Graysen would verbally abuse Daemon. If it were true, why hadn’t Daemon told her? Was she such a bad mother that her own son didn’t trust her?

And how did she not notice it? Graysen had always seemed cordial enough around Daemon. Yes, he didn’t like that Elain had ‘baggage’ but he never showed his obvious dislike in any way.

As soon as Azriel stopped the car in the garage, Elain ran out, rushing towards the house, and slamming the door behind her.

She stormed up into her room, still wet and dripping, ignoring the cold chills passing through her body. She closed the door and had just removed her blouse when suddenly her door burst open and Azriel charged inside.

“Get out.” She demanded, pointing her finger towards the door.

“No.” He folded his hands across his perfectly sculpted chest. “Stop hiding it.” He stated calmly, his eyes raking over Elain’s body just once before he locked eyes with her.

She glared at him in response. “I’m not hiding anything.”

“Elain, please. Please do not lie to me. I can’t take it anymore!” He banged his fist into the wall beside him causing Elain to flinch, but he ignored it.

“Az, what do you want me to say? That even after all these years, I’m still in love with you? Well, you’re wrong. There’s only one person whom I love and it’s my son. There’s no space in my heart for anyone else. And definitely not the person who broke me.” Liar, liar, liar.

“Yeah, well I call bullshit.”

“Screw you, Azriel Knight! You can’t come back into my life and usurp my whole life.” She pushed against his chest, but it did nothing to him. “You can’t expect me to still have feelings for you. I’m fucking engaged!”

“You just needed someone who made you forget about me! Even though he didn’t love you, or you loved him back, at least he got your mind off of me.” He started stalking towards her, making her move backward. “And in all of that, you didn’t even care that he was abusing our child, telling him that he wasn’t good enough.” He was right in front of her, her back against the wall. “You might have gone through a lot in life El, but you screwed up when it mattered the most.”

Her hand moved on its own and struck him, causing a sting in her palm. His eyes were blazing as he looked at her. She raised her other hand to strike him again but he grasped it strongly and looked at her. Something flashed in his eyes that she couldn’t comprehend.

“Fuck it.” He muttered as he leaned towards her, crashing his lips to hers.

~~~~~

AN: Hope you enjoy!

Next Chapter: 10 March

#elriel #elriel fic #one last time #elain archeron #azriel #elain x azriel #azriel x elain #gangster au #acotar au #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #feyre archeron #rhysand #nesta archeron #cassian

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