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evangelical04 · 3 months

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A Single Daffodil || 1

Summary: Getting arranged to be married to your long-time crush wasn't exactly the fairy tale romance you were hoping for. Nor is the dynamic of the marriage, with your husband treating you like you don't exist. But you're going to make this work, whether he cares about you or not. And he definitely doesn't...right?

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Rating: 18+ minors DNI

Word Count: 2.7K

Genre: angst, romance, unrequited love, smut, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage au, businessman yoongi

Warnings: parental trauma, sibling trauma, toxic parents, unrequited love, explicit language, alcohol usage, yoongi's kind of mean, future smut

Author's Note: hello! i'm Eva and this is my first fic on tumblr ever! I've been a reader for so long and I've always wanted to write my own stories, so I figured I finally would. I know it’s kind of short but I promise the other parts will be longer. Please give me any feedback you have and let me know if you'd like there to be a tag list or anything! I hope you guys like it!! p.s. I'm totally posting this instead of doing my morphology homework that's due in 15 minutes

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The door to your childhood home looked artificially welcoming. There were too many flowers lining the walls encasing the looming wooden door. The grass on the lawn just was a bit too green without a blade out of place and the paved walkway was freshly powerwashed and missing even a speck of dirt. You let out the deep breath you were holding and gently took hold of the overly ornate bronze knocker adorning the painted wood of the door. Two loud thuds rang out as you knocked and the door quickly opened afterwards.

“Hello, Miss Y/N, your parents have been expecting you.”

“Yes, I know. Thank you, Mrs. Oh,” you responded quietly, nodding at the grey-haired woman. She shot you a sympathetic smile before ushering you in, taking your coat and carefully laying it over her arm. After removing your shoes, you followed her past the foyer to the living room where your parents awaited.

You knew what was coming, you knew that this had been decided long before you were born. Yet, you still felt unprepared. You had grown comfortable, living in your simple apartment in Gangnam and your quiet work routine. Biting your lip, you reprimanded yourself internally, You should’ve brought this shit up in therapy before it happened.

“Here we are, Miss Y/N,” Mrs. Oh said, snapping you out of your self-pity session. You nodded gratefully at her, sending a small smile her way. Her eyebrows wove together in her own pity-ridden expression and she quickly whispered, “Good luck,” while exiting swiftly. You steeled your nerves and forced your chin up high, knowing that you’d most likely cower inwards as soon as you faced your parents anyway.

Stepping into the room, you noted the almost intervention-like setup your parents had arranged themselves in, with your father sitting proudly in his reclining, leather armchair, clad in a dark blue quarter zip and khaki pants. Your mother stood facing the fireplace, arms crossed, in a simple and elegant turquoise dress and hair tied up in a tight and neat bun, with her baby hairs smoothed back to prevent any imperfection. You could almost imagine her pinched mouth, forever encased in a stern and unamused expression.

“Hello father, mother,” you started, trying to smooth the slight trembling in your voice. Your mother turned around, eyes narrowing at your form, “Sit down.”

You promptly obeyed.

“Your father and I have decided on your marriage. It’ll be to the Min family, to Min Yoongi.”

“What? To him? But,” you began protesting but your mother quickly cut you off with a steely glare.

“It has already been decided. Your wedding will be in eight months. I’ll forward you the invitation list and you can add three people of your choosing. You’ll be having dinner with us and the Min family on Friday at six. I’ll have Yujin send you an email with further details. Don’t be late.”

You looked to your father in a desperate plea but were only met with stony silence and a passive face. You turned back to your mother and registered the composed expression painting her face. Your fate had been decided, and it had not worked in your favor at all. Rising slowly, you set your hands by your side and bowed towards your parents, “I understand. I’ll be there.”

Your mother swiftly exited the room, evidently deciding the conversation was over. You could hear her dangling earrings tinkling against each other in what felt like a mocking melody. Your father calmly produced a cigar from the table next to him and lit up, no longer acknowledging you either. You let out another slow breath and walked out.

Collecting your coat from Mrs. Oh, who tried to give you a comforting shoulder squeeze but it felt more like condolences than anything, and made your way to your car parked in front of the gate closing off your parents’ home.

That’s it then.

You felt eerily calm yet stressed as you started up your car and carefully reversed out, making sure to avoid hitting the carved statues your parents had in front of the iron gate. As you drove home, your mind started racing with the information you had been relayed.

Min Yoongi as your soon-to-be-husband? What irony.

Does he even know you exist?

Will you be able to survive this?

Hand gripping the steering wheel hard, you quickly dialed the most recent number in your contact list. She answered after only two rings.

“Y/N! Are you still alive? How’d it go?”

“Hi Joohee, not great. I’m completely and totally fucked.”

Joohee chuckled on the other end of the line, “Want to come over?”

“Yes,” you breathed, “I was hoping you’d offer.”

“I’ll get the booze.”

“Min Yoongi? Now that’s ironic,” Joohee chuckled, seemingly at your expense. You shot a glare her way which she shrugged in response to.

“How long have you been crushing on him? This is, like, practically fate. Maybe this’ll be a good thing.”

You scoffed in response, “A good thing? Joohee, be serious. The last thing I want to do is get with my long-time infatuation, not crush, by forcing him to be my husband.” You took another swig of wine. It was a cheap pink Moscato, perfect for nights like these with Joohee.

Joohee shoved a pillow in your direction in an effort to gain more room on the couch you had stuffed yourselves onto. The trash reality dating show you had on in the background was showing a rather dramatic fight but you paid it no attention, “It’s just…I haven’t talked to him in the last, what, five years? He probably doesn’t even remember me. And you’ve heard the rumors, I don’t think he’ll be exactly thrilled at giving up his playboy lifestyle just because he has to marry me.”

“What if he doesn’t give that up?”

You stared at Joohee in slight surprise, “What do you mean?”

“Like, what if he says that he doesn’t want to stop hooking up with other people? What will you do?”

Your brows furrowed as you considered the question, “I don’t know, I guess. I mean, I can’t really stop him. I guess I’d just have to live with it.”

Joohee hummed in response before continuing on, “Well, this is happening whether you like it or not. Just try to make it amicable at the least. Maybe it’ll work out, you never know. Just look at Jin oppa.”

Kim Seokjin, Joohee’s older brother and a friend of Min Yoongi’s, was arranged by Joohee’s parents to marry Song Yeonhee, and the two had seemingly fallen in love after a rocky start to their nuptials. You had seen them recently at Yeonhee’s baby shower and she had been glowing, looking unbelievably happy. You recalled the loving gaze that Seokjin had sent her during the party and the pang of envy you felt, knowing that you would likely never get to experience that.

“Yeah, well,” you responded, “He’s an outlier. Most of these types of marriages don’t work out. I have a feeling I’m going to be a part of that group.”

“You’re too negative, you haven’t even met him for dinner yet. Maybe he’ll surprise you. You just have to give him the chance.”

You mulled over Joohee’s words and nodded, “Yeah, maybe you’re right. I guess I’ll see how Friday goes.”

You weren’t technically late.

While you still had about 5 minutes before the dinner officially started, you weren’t early, and that was unacceptable by your mother’s standards. A mini emergency at your job had left you scrambling to leave on time, only noticing the late hour when one of your coworkers asked if they should order take-out for the team. After profusely apologizing to your team, they encouraged you to go, practically shooing you out the door, claiming they could handle the situation for now.

Which left you barely on time to park in the lot outside the ridiculously fancy Japanese restaurant your mother’s assistant, Yujin, had sent to your email earlier that week. You quickly stepped out, smoothing out your dress that you had kept in the backseat of your car and had hastily changed into in the parking lot of your office. Tugging down the hem, you took a moment to look at your reflection in your car window and attempt to look more presentable. Your hair was slightly frizzy but nicely combed back, and you had extremely minimal makeup on from only remembering last minute this morning, and your eyes looked tired.

You felt tired.

Shaking off your nerves, you headed inside the restaurant giving your family name to the hostess who took you back to a private room where your mother and father were waiting. Your father spared you only a cursory glance before returning his gaze to his phone and your mother looked you up and down before uttering a curt, “Hm.” You held in an eye roll and quickly sat next to them, trying to calm your heart rate for the sure-to-be exhilarating dinner ahead. At six on the dot, you spotted the same hostess leading the Min family towards your table. Your mother stood, welcoming them and urging them to sit down. You stood as well, a little less welcoming, a lot more obligated.

Mrs. Min looked like the epitome of a rich older woman with dark black hair combed back and glittering jewels lining her ears and neck, complementing the midnight blue gown she had on. Mr. Min was dressed quite similarly to your father, in a simple suit, the only difference being his starkly greying hair providing quite the contrast to his dark blazer. Close behind them was the person you were the most anxious about meeting, Min Yoongi. His pitch-black hair complemented his slightly tanned skin nicely and his feline eyes remained straightforward and untelling. He was dressed in a simple black suit as well with an expensive-looking watch adoring his wrist. His mouth was closed tightly and he did not smile at your mother when she greeted him, not at your father when they sat down across from your family, and certainly not at you.

Your hands nervously played with each other in your lap as you took your seat again. You listened quietly as the mothers exchanged pleasantries and the fathers gruffly greeted each other. You were trying to avoid looking at Yoongi as much as possible.

“So, Y/N,” Mrs. Min started, making you startle to attention, “How old are you now?”

“Twenty-nine, ma’am.”

“Ah, so only a bit younger than Yoongi. That’s good then. How is your work?”

You felt your father stiffen next to you and prayed your discomfort didn’t show on your face, “Good. I’m in the middle of producing a new project with my team.”

“How lovely. Although I’m sure you’ll be leaving that soon after the wedding. You won’t need to work then after all,” Mrs. Min smiled at you. It was hard to read her so you couldn’t tell if she was being genuine or not, though if you had to guess, it was likely the latter. Your job was a point of contention with your family. Choosing to work in a video game production company did not go over well, and if your older brother, Kyungsoo, hadn’t been in line to inherit Seo Industries, you would’ve never been able to keep it.

You smiled awkwardly in response to Mrs. Min and returned your gaze to the empty plate in front of you.

As the conversation dragged on, you couldn’t help but steal a glance or two at Yoongi, who was periodically checking his phone and looking permanently bored of the conversation. Not that you could blame him. The dull talk of social circle gossip and work was beginning to get grating, and even the introduction of fancy entrees wasn’t enough to stop your stomach from feeling queasy.

Yoongi had yet to say one word to you. To be fair, you hadn’t said anything to him either, but he had barely looked in your direction since he entered the private dining room. How exactly were you supposed to start a conversation with that?

Soon after the desserts came out and were finished, with you politely refusing, feeling like you were going to throw up any second, Mrs. Min suddenly pushed her chair back and stood. She looked down at you and Yoongi and announced, “Well. I think we can leave them to talk on their own for a bit. Why don’t you join us for a drink at our home, Eujin-ssi?”

At the sound of her name, your mother stood, nodding, “Yes, that sounds lovely. Let’s let them get to know each other a bit more.” With that, the parents swiftly gathered their belongings and left, before you could even protest, leaving you staring open-mouthed at the exit.

Slowly, you turned to face Yoongi and were startled, seeing his eyes already boring into yours.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” Yoongi stated, his deep and stable voice wrapping around you for the first time that night, “This marriage means nothing to me. It shouldn’t to you either. I’ll do my thing and you do yours. Most importantly, stay out of my life except when necessary. Just because my parents are forcing my hand doesn’t mean I have to adhere to every little thing. Nothing will be changing except for our living situation and a ring on our fingers.”

A little stunned, you could only stutter a passive agreement and watch as he rose and left without sparing you another glance.

Letting out a deep breath, you closed your eyes, trying to understand what had just transpired. Your heart raced as you quickly stacked up the dishes to be a bit easier for the busboy and quickly made your way to your car. Sitting down in the driver’s seat, you vaguely registered Min Yoongi’s cold demeanor towards you.

It seems he didn’t remember you after all.

The dress you had on was itchy, but you knew if you complained, you would only end up with a sharp stinging on your cheek and tear-filled eyes. You had escaped the boring party with grown-ups and were sitting outside on a stone bench in the garden, trying to remedy your hurt feelings at the hands of the mean, older boy, Hyunsoo.

He had confidently poked fun at your appearance, saying the dress was a bit too small on you and that your parents should’ve sprung for a size that could fit an elephant instead. He continued on, saying your parents must’ve forgotten to vaccinate you for measles considering all the red spots on your face that were actually acne. Being a tender twelve years of age and going through the worst bits of puberty, his words hit you hard and you quickly ran from the scene into the garden.

Unable to contain your tears, they slipped down your face in large droplets and soaked into the front of your dress.

“Hey, you.”

Startled, you looked up to see a boy a couple of years older than you standing in front of you, black hair shining in the light from the garden lamps. His sharp eyes trailed down your tear-stained face. You quickly turned away in shame, not wanting to undergo any more embarrassment tonight.

“Hey, snot-face.”

You shot him a glare but softened when you saw his hand extended, holding a handkerchief, his face turned slightly away, “Use this. You look ugly while you’re crying.”

You gingerly took the cloth from his hands and blew your nose, noticing him wince out of the corner of your eye.

“Thank you,” you managed and he only rolled his eyes in response.

“Yeah, whatever. I think Joohee’s looking for you,” he grumbled before turning on his heel and stalking off back towards the party.

Confused, your eyes followed after him, not knowing how he knew that Joohee would be looking for you. You unfolded the handkerchief and noticed an elegant embroidering of three letters in black near the bottom, MYG.

Oh, you realized, Min Yoongi. Joohee’s older brother was friends with him but you had never seen him before. Joohee had described him as kind of rude and quite closed off, but you disagreed. He certainly didn’t seem that bad.

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justagalwhowrites · 1 month

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Halcyon - Ch. 10: People Might Think You Care About Me

You and Joel spend the holidays together. A continuation of Halcyon from the prologue through Ch. 9, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

Again, I'm here begging HBO to give me something to use for young Joel PLZ

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Mention of dieting and diet culture. Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 5.8K

AO3 | Main Master List | Prologue | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“I can’t believe my kid is going to like you better than me,” Joel said, sitting in the middle of the living room floor with a roll of wrapping paper spread out in front of him. “Scissors.”

You handed them over before grabbing the tape, putting a piece on the tip of your finger before folding the paper around the box - a friendship bracelet kit - that you were wrapping for Sarah.

“I mean, first of all, your kid already likes me more than she likes you,” you teased, turning the box to do the other side. “She has good taste…”

“You’re the worst.”

“Second,” you said, ignoring him. “It is a joint gift, you’re getting tons of cool dad points out of this.”

“She’s gonna know it was your idea,” he said, adjusting the gift he was wrapping. “Hell, she’s gonna know that only one of us could have gotten tickets and it ain’t me.”

As if on cue, Swiftie - Sarah’s kitten - pounced on the box Joel was wrapping.

“Yeah, this one knows, too,” he said, scooping her up with one large hand and setting her down. “I miss when she wanted Barbies. Shit was easier.”

You laughed.

“Be happy she’s excited about anything enough that she’s going to freak out over Taylor Swift tickets,” you said. “She’s about to be a disaffected teenager, enjoy it while it lasts.”

“Yeah, don’t remind me,” he muttered, “She’s stubborn enough as it is.”

“You’re in for it, Miller,” you said as your cat, Puck, climbed on your lap. You reached around him to finish taping the package you were wrapping. “She’s going to give you so much shit…”

“What if she’s just like you, hm?” Joel teased. “Gonna have a nerd for a kid…”

“Hey, I was a nerd who snuck out at night to go get drunk with the boneheaded jock,” you teased back. “You really want her to be just like me?”

“Jesus, you’re right,” Joel shook his head, finishing wrapping his present. “I’ll have to keep her far away from anyone like me for the sake of us all.”

You snorted and finished wrapping your own gift before scooping Puck into your arms, nuzzling into his fur and giving him a kiss on the head before settling with your back against your couch as you looked at the lights on the tree.

It was Christmas Eve, the first one in years you were spending without Gale and you’d never been more thankful for Joel.

Last year, you and Gale were separated but you’d felt so alone that you’d texted him the afternoon of Christmas Eve and spent most of the night and next day in bed. You’d tricked yourself then, pretended there was a chance in hell of the two of you getting back together and things going back to the way they used to be.

That hadn’t happened. You’d spent New Year’s Eve in bed, too. Except that time, you were alone.

You’d been afraid that was going to happen for you this holiday season, too. You asked Anna what she had planned for Christmas, fully expecting her to want to spend the day together. She had other things in mind.

“Honestly, ever since Mom died?” She’d shrugged. “I love using it as a day to just chill. Binge watch TV I’ve been meaning to catch up on, eat a pile of Chinese food, maybe take a bath… It’s pretty boring but I love it. And since I’ve got this little bundle on the way, I’m extra looking forward to it this year.”

“Oh,” you forced a smile, trying to hide your disappointment. “No, that sounds great.”

“Oh God,” she clamped her hands over her mouth, eyes wide for a moment. “Did you want to do something? I’m so sorry, I should have…”

“”No,” you waved her off quickly. “No, you’re good! I don’t want to disrupt your plans…”

“You can join if you want!” She said. “I mean, for everything but the bath part, that might be a little much now that we’re not kids anymore.”

“No,” you said again. “You have fun! Tradition is tradition and you need the break. Maybe I’ll do the same.”

You should have known that she would have her own way of doing things. You’d all but abandoned her during your marriage, sending perfunctory text messages and holiday cards and flying her up for a long weekend every year or so but, otherwise, you went weeks without talking. Of course she had Christmas plans that didn’t involve you. Why would she have any that did?

Joel, however, had done what he’d always done since you’d moved back to Texas: Made room for you in his life.

“Know you and Anna probably already got plans but,” he’d shrugged two weeks earlier. “If you don’t… want to spend Christmas with me n’Sarah? Tommy, too, assuming he doesn’t con his way into dinner at some girl’s house. S’OK if you don’t, just figured… I dunno…”

You’d smiled, bigger than you’d really meant to.

“You want me to spend Christmas with you?”

“I want you to spend most days with me,” he shrugged. “But you know, we gotta go out in the world and make money and shit. Anyway, Christmas. You in? Could just move in until the New Year if you really wanted…”

The last part wasn’t going to work with your obligation to go try to write a book once Christmas was through. But you had spent the last two nights at Joel’s, bringing Puck over to play with Sarah and Swiftie as the three of you watched Christmas movies and binged cookies. No papers to grade, no lawyers calling because your attorneys’ offices were closed, no pressure because you already had time set aside to write. You could really relax for the first time in what felt like an eternity and relaxing with Joel and Sarah was quickly becoming your favorite thing in the entire world.

But all that relaxing had meant there was a small pile of presents that weren’t wrapped that needed to make it under the tree. It was Christmas Eve and time had run out.

“You need to stop procrastinating,” you said, getting your egg nog that was now mostly liquor off the coffee table and taking a sip. “Can’t get away with that shit when you’re a business owner.”

“Just watch me,” he teased. “Besides, you’re one to talk, you made any progress on that book?”

“That’s what next week is for,” you said, giving the cat a kiss just as he started to get restless in your arms. You set him down. “Fingers crossed having nothing else to do will make me churn out the words.”

“Wild to me that you make money from what’s in your head,” Joel came and sat next to you. “Not that I think you shouldn’t, if anyone should it’s you. Just that anyone does at all is insane.”

“Well, I may not make money off it for long if I can’t write anything else,” you sighed. “Know what? Let’s not talk about next week. I want to live in this moment - the one where we don’t have any worries and the presents are all under the tree and Sarah is passed out - for a while longer yet.”

Joel hummed in agreement and you leaned your head on his shoulder, sighing contentedly. You could smell his skin and cologne and there was still a little bacon scent from when he’d made breakfast for the three of you that morning.

“Think she’ll have a good Christmas?” Joel asked quietly, the two of you watching the lights twinkle on his tree.

“Hell yeah,” you smiled a little. “You really are an amazing Dad, Joel.”

He scoffed.

“I’m serious,” you peered up at him. “You’re lucky to have Sarah but she’s lucky as hell to have you, too. She’s going to love it.”

“Speaking of parents… anything new in the Anna situation?” Joel asked cautiously.

“It’s a girl,” you sighed. “But she seems to be keeping up with everything, thank God. Maybe I’m wrong, maybe this is the kick in the ass she’s been needing…”

“Was for me,” Joel shrugged, making your head rise with his shoulder.

You sighed again.

“Just seems like an awful lot to put on a kid,” you said. “And you might have been young and dumb but you didn’t have the shit Anna’s got on her plate. It’s a bit of a different story with her.”

“She might surprise you. But either way, we’ll make up a room for the little sucker here,” Joel said. “Just to be safe.”

“Regardless, that’s next year Goldie and Joel’s problem,” you said. “And thank fuck for that.”

“Yeah, fuck those two,” you could hear the smile on Joel’s voice. “Let’s put the wrapping paper away and go to bed, something about Santa and knowing when you’re sleeping and all that.”

You cleaned up the living room and tried not to pay attention to the nighttime routine you’d fallen into with Joel in the few days you’d been staying with him. You had your own sink in Joel’s bathroom, one that had your hair products and face wash lined up alongside it. You had your own side of the bed with your own nightstand where the book you’d been reading the last few days was nearing its end and waiting for you. If you thought about it too much, you’d miss it when it was gone. If you thought about it too much, it might seem like something you could keep.

Joel made his customary space at his side and you nestled into him, your head on his chest where you could hear his heart beat. His fingers trailed up and down your arm.

“There are upsides to a kid, you know,” he said quietly. “Christmas morning is one of ‘em. Just wait.”

You smiled a little.

“Stop keeping me awake and we won’t have to wait long,” you said.

Joel snorted.

“Yeah yeah. Night Goldie.”

“Night Joel.”

Sarah came careening into Joel’s room before 7 a.m., slamming into the bed so hard that it made your teeth rattle.

“Dad! Aunt Goldie!” She shook you both. “Wake up, it’s Christmas!”

“Yeah, alright,” Joel groaned, taking his warm arm from its place around your shoulders. You groaned, too. “You stay here with Goldie while I go put the coffee pot on and get set up to record you…”

Sarah groaned.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he said. “Sit tight, five minutes.”

You rolled onto your back and blinked the sleep from your eyes, Sarah bouncing impatiently on the bed. You lifted your head enough to look at her, curls sticking every which way, and you dropped back down onto the pillow with a groan.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, kid,” you said.

“Yeah, that’s what my dad says,” she said cheerfully and you could picture her smile as she did.

“Alright, come on out,” Joel called from the living room. Sarah rocketed off the bed and you laughed as you got up yourself, trailing behind her and trying not to yawn.

“Oh cool!” Sarah flopped down beside her stocking and started going through it as you got to the living room. Joel was sitting on the couch, his phone set up on a tripod in the corner and pointed at the tree. “These are those face mask things I said I wanted! And the headbands for soccer!”

“I do pay attention now and then, baby girl,” Joel said, rubbing his eyes.

“Don’t you mean Santa pays attention?” You asked, sitting next to him on the couch. Joel handed you a cup of coffee, made exactly how you liked it.

“I know Santa’s not real, Aunt Goldie,” Sarah rolled her eyes and gave you a look. “I’m 11, not a kid.”

Joel snorted.

“Sorry,” you said. “My mistake.”

“Don’t spoil Santa for Goldie,” Joel said before reaching down on the ground next to him. “Speaking of which…”

He handed you a fat stocking and you frowned a little as you took it.

“You made me a stocking?” You asked, tears pinching at your throat. “No one’s made me a stocking since I was in high school…”

“Then you’re real overdue,” he smiled a little and went back to watching Sarah as she unwrapped a chocolate Santa and stuffed the entire thing in her mouth. “Alright, let’s not eat all the candy in one sitting…”

“But it’s Christmas!” She said, voice muffled around the chocolate.

“Still gonna get sick,” he replied.

You started unpacking the stocking, pulling two pairs of fuzzy socks out of the top.

“Because your feet are always freezing,” he said, looking back at you. “Figured one pair for here, one for your house…”

“Thank you,” you smiled, going back into the stocking. There was some of your favorite candy, one of the face masks Sarah had, a bottle of gold nail polish.

“We can do a spa day!” She beamed.

“We can,” you laughed, looking at Joel who just shrugged, a small smile on his face.

At the bottom of the stocking was a chunky gold pen, thick plastic encasing glitter and you turned it over in your fingers, frowning for a moment at just how familiar it felt.

“Saw one like the one you had when we were kids years ago,” Joel said. “Bought it on a whim, thought you might want it.”

You wanted to say thank you but you couldn’t seem to make a sound, the words caught in your throat. Instead, you just threw your arms around his neck and he laughed a little when he caught you, his hand sliding over your side and around to your back.

You stayed close to Joel and watched as Sarah tore through her presents, the envelope with the concert tickets safely in Joel’s possession.

“Hey Sarah,” you said eventually. “Can you hand me that box under there that’s for your dad?”

Joel frowned as Sarah got the box, setting it on the coffee table in front of Joel and hovering as he went to open it.

“Didn’t need to get me anything,” he said.

“Too damn bad,” you said. “Don’t get too excited, it’s nothing crazy.”

He opened it. Inside were two shot glasses, leather wrapped with a monogrammed M burned into it.

“I thought you needed some accessories for the flask,” you smiled.

He laughed.

“We gotta break these in,” he said, looking them over. “They even look like they match…”

“May have gotten Tommy to send me pictures,” you said. “Keep going, one more thing in there.”

He shifted the tissue paper before pulling out a cassette tape, frowning at it for a moment.

“What…”

“I know your stereo is old enough that it plays tapes,” you said, palm out. “Hand it over.”

He laughed once but obeyed and you went to put the tape in, adjusting the volume so it wouldn’t be too loud. It crackled a bit at the start and then Joel’s voice - almost 20 years younger but still so familiar - filled the room.

“My name is Joel Miller,” he said. “I play guitar and sing, mostly rock, little country…”

Joel gaped at the stereo before looking to you.

“Is this that old demo tape we made when we were kids?” He asked. You laughed and nodded. “Holy… where the hell’d you find this thing?”

“I kept one,” you shrugged. “Thought it might give you a nudge toward playing again.”

The Joel on tape started playing and Sarah came and sat between the two of you on the couch, looking up at her dad.

“So that’s you?” She asked.

“Sure is,” he said. “Long time ago, I was closer to your age then than mine now.”

“What’s it for?” She asked.

“Well,” Joel looked over her head to you and smiled a little before looking back at his daughter. “I always liked playing, wanted to be a singer for a while. Goldie here talked me into making some demo tapes to give to places around here that had open mic nights so I could actually play for people. Worked, too. Had a few places I played pretty often for a bit in there thanks to that tape.”

“Why’d you stop?” She frowned. “You were good.”

Joel shrugged.

“Bigger things to do,” he kissed the top of her head. “Though speaking of music… think there might be one more thing for you under the tree.”

Sarah’s frown deepened and she went to look around, picking her way through wrapping paper and but not finding it.

“There’s nothing over here, Dad,” she said. “Are you sure?”

“Oh, right,” Joel said, giving you a wink and pulling the envelope out of the pocket of his pajama pants. “Here it is.”

She jumped over some of the boxes scattered over the floor and took the envelope from him, her eyebrows knitting together as she read the writing on the front.

“To the swiftest music fan?” She said, looking up from the envelope and at the two of you.

You just shrugged.

“Gonna have to open it, kiddo,” Joel said.

She slipped her fingers below the seal and pulled out the card, two pieces of paper falling to the ground before she had a chance to read it. She picked them up and unfolded them, reading the first one.

“It says we have a hotel room in Dallas?” She looked at Joel.

“Gotta read the other paper, baby girl,” he said. “That’s the important one. And the one from Aunt Goldie.”

She flipped to that page next and only held it for a moment before shrieking and throwing herself at you, knocking you back into the couch.

“You got Eras Tour tickets?” She pulled back, half on top of you and half on the couch. You just laughed and nodded. “Oh my GOD, thank you thank you thank you, you’re the best! OH MY GOD!”

“Well your dad is the one getting us there and making sure we have a place to stay,” you said. “So hug him, too.”

“Thank you!” She threw herself at him, too, and he laughed, catching her and giving her a squeeze. “This is the best present ever, it’s going to be the best time, I can’t wait! We’re going to see Taylor Swift! Oh my GOD, I have to tell my friends!”

She shot off to her room to get her phone and Joel laughed, looking over at you.

“OK I don’t even care that she likes you better n’me now,” he said. “She’s that happy? Worth it.”

“We’ll see how we feel after a few days wrangling her for the Taylor Swift concert,” you said, watching where she’d disappeared up the stairs. “But… yeah, definitely worth it.”

“Hey,” Joel said, voice oddly earnest. You looked over at him. “Thanks for loving my kid.”

You smiled a little.

“She’s yours,” you said. “How could I not?”

Tommy came over a few hours later, once the turkey was in the oven and the wrapping paper was cleaned up off the floor. He gave Sarah a five pound bag of Sour Patch Kids and said “don’t tell your dad” before kissing the top of her head as she scampered off to stash her hoard in her room. He greeted you with a hug with a tight squeeze on the end and you still couldn’t quite get used to just how adult he was. There was part of you that still saw him as the little kid who trailed after you and Joel, the one who sometimes begged to go to Dairy Queen for a Blizzard. Now, he was nearly as tall as his older brother, drinking a beer and talking to Joel about a woman named Maria he’d just started dating. It was an odd reminder of just how much time you’d lost with Joel, just how much had changed.

The four of you had dinner - Tommy teasing Sarah more like a loving older brother than an uncle, making you smile - and, before too long, the day was done.

Sarah insisted on listening to Taylor Swift while she got ready for bed and Joel read to her from an Artemis Fowl book, you eavesdropping on Joel doing the voices from your place in the living room while the cats curled up around you.

A keen sense of belonging settled over you then, as you held a mug of cocoa in one hand and the other rested on the back of your large, orange cat. This, you thought, was where you belonged. In this space, in this time, alongside these people.

How could you ever hope to find this anywhere else? How were you ever supposed to recover from this stubborn crush if Joel was the place you felt most like home?

“You OK?” Joel asked, hovering toward the top of the stairs, his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants.

“Yeah,” you smiled and gave Puck a scratch and let yourself have the feeling. “I’m good.”

You got up early the next morning, Joel barely awake enough to help carry your bags to the car.

“See you New Year’s Eve,” he said, his hands in the pockets of his pajama pants and his hair in total disarray. “Better have that damn book done by then.”

“Do you really think you can write an entire book in a week?” You asked, brows raised.

“I dunno,” he said. “You’re the smart one, you tell me.”

You rolled your eyes and he laughed a little.

“Alright, I’m goin’ back to bed,” he said. “Text me when you get there, have fun being a genius.”

“Hey,” you called to him as he made it halfway back up his walk. He turned to face you, frowning slightly. “Thanks. For being my friend.”

An expression you couldn’t place passed over his face before he smiled a little.

“Careful,” he said. “Talk like that enough, people might think you care about me and shit.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” you said. “See you in a few days.”

He watched you drive off and you made your way to the hill country and the cabin Stephanie had reserved for you. You’d insisted that it have extra bedrooms and a hot tub and were surprised that she hadn’t pushed back on it.

“Whatever you need to get the job done, you’ve got it,” she said after sending you links to some cabins. “I’m just here to facilitate.”

You stopped on the way for groceries, stocking up so you wouldn’t need to leave the house once you settled in. You went with most of your standbys for cooking for one and watching the careful diet you’d been on for years but then thought of Joel bringing you tamales and plying you with cookies over the last few days. Maybe he was right. Maybe you did need to live a little. You got the stuff to make the bagel sandwiches, too.

The cabin was damn near idyllic, all stone and wood with huge windows looking out at the brush leading down to the lake in the backyard. The hot tub was set on the back porch, a fire pit in the yard and rocking chairs out front. The kitchen was large and reasonably well equipped and there were enough bedrooms that Joel, Tommy and Sarah could have their own when they all joined you for New Year’s Eve. There was even a desk set up near a window that overlooked the water and you set up your laptop and charger and got out your notebook with the pen from your Christmas stocking, arranging everything just so.

“Alright,” you said to no one after you got the groceries put away and made yourself a cup of coffee before settling in at the desk to write. “Let’s do this.”

And… you tried. You really, truly did.

Day one, you got most of an outline done. Enough of one that you went to bed feeling somewhat accomplished and felt good treating yourself to a bagel sandwich in the morning. But then, when you sat down to work on the next part for day two, you weren’t sure you liked any of it anymore. You pressed on, anyway. Day three, you tried to write the first chapter and you made some decent progress, at least feeling like you were getting to know the characters a bit as you settled into the story. But, day four, you read what you’d written the day before and wanted to claw your way out of your skin. What were you doing? Why did you think you could do this at all? Had you ever made anything worthwhile on your own? Why would you suddenly be able to do it now?

The text came through when you were taking a break for lunch, desperately avoiding the gnawing feeling of failure after days of accomplishing fuck all when you really had no excuse not to. You sighed and opened your texts, fully expecting from Joel or Anna or even Stephanie.

It wasn’t.

Hey Doll

You dropped your fork in shock and it clattered to your plate as you blinked at your phone in total shock. He was texting you. Why was he texting you? He hadn’t texted you in months, not since you’d left Rhode Island. Why now? Did you want to know? Could you resist knowing?

Hi Gale

You propped your phone up against your half empty can of Diet Dr. Pepper and stared at the screen, waiting for the next shoe to drop.

It didn’t take long.

How’ve you been doing?

Your hand shook as you replied.

Alright. I like the new school. You?

He responded almost instantly.

Not bad. Was just thinking about you. Miss you.

You froze, your heart in your throat.

He missed you. How could he just say that? The collapse of your marriage had been one of the most painful things you’d ever gone through, happening in slow motion as he pulled further and further away and you desperately tried to dig your nails in to keep him close. You’d all but begged for him to miss you for years and now he was just texting it to you out of the blue. How could he just say that? How could you pretend like it wasn’t what you wanted to hear?

You went to his Facebook page and checked his relationship status, one of the upsides to being with an older man meaning that his social media presence was pretty limited. He was still listed as in a relationship with Carla, a woman he’d met in much the same way he’d met you. The thought made your stomach churn, that you’d been so easily replaced by the younger, thinner, prettier version who had been dropped on his desk, practically gift wrapped.

You went back to the texts.

How’s Carla?

There was a longer pause that time.

She’s not you.

“Jesus,” you said, setting the phone down and closing your eyes for a moment. You tried to think, forcing yourself to be practical. This wasn’t the time or the place to be having this conversation. You couldn’t have this conversation, not when you’d just been sitting her wondering if you could do the only thing you’d ever felt like you were supposed to do without his help.

I don’t want to talk about this now. I’m in the middle of working on my book. Maybe another time.

You stared at the phone, waiting for him to respond. He never did.

“Yeah, sure seems like you missed me,” you muttered, finishing your salad and cleaning up from lunch, settling back in at your desk to write for the afternoon, trying not to think about the very real possibility that your writing career had ended when your marriage did.

“I’m losing my mind over here,” you said, breaking down and calling Joel on day five. “There’s only so much I can say to a wall, you know.”

“We’re comin’ your way tomorrow,” he said. “Be praying for some peace and quiet once Sarah and Tommy are there, trust me. Still like pecan praline ice cream, yeah?”

“Blue Bell?” You asked.

“Course it’s Blue Bell,” you could hear him roll his eyes through the phone. “What kind of animal you take me for?”

“Oh, my apologies…”

“Anything else you can think of?” He asked. “I can always stop on the way, too, but it’s easier while I’m here.”

“I still think it’s silly to buy ice cream an hour away and then drive it out here,” you said.

“That’s what coolers are for,” he replied. “Stop finding shit to worry about. Just give the writing one more shot, see how far you get. Who knows, you might surprise yourself.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you remembered your texts with Gale the day before.

“Goldie,” Joel said, tone serious. “That all that’s on your mind?”

“Stop trying to read my thoughts,” you said.

“Tell me,” he said. “Or I’ll show up early and make you.”

“That a threat?”

“That’s a promise,” he said. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Gale texted yesterday,” you said, fidgeting with the handle of your coffee mug, the coffee itself going cold an hour ago.

“Gale?” Joel asked, tone sharp. “Fuckin’ Gale? The fuck did he want?”

“I don’t know,” you sighed. “I’ll show you the texts when you get here, maybe you can translate them for me since he’s not making any damn sense.”

“That asshole better not be making any trouble,” Joel said. “I will find him and kick his ass, Goldie, just say the word…”

“I know you will,” you laughed a little. “But don’t worry about it right now. And I should let you go…”

“Yeah, go write your book,” he teased. “Change the world and shit.”

There was a knock at your front door and you frowned, staring at it. There was a window to the side of it but all you could see was a shadow.

“Hey, Joel?” You said. “Hang on one second, there’s someone at my door.”

“What?” He sounded serious now. “Were you expecting anyone?”

“No,” you said quietly, approaching it slowly and trying to see through the frosted glass. You couldn’t make out who it was. “So just stay on the line and make sure I’m not axe murdered…”

“Need me to come out there now?” He asked. “If you ain’t safe…”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” you said, unlocking the deadbolt. “Probably just a neighbor, but…”

You opened the door and peered out through the crack, phone clutched against your head.

You still almost dropped it.

“Hey Doll.”

***

“Hi Gale.”

Joel’s heart dropped.

“Gale?” He said, pressing his phone tight against his head and trying not to yell in the middle of the line at the HEB. “Fucking Gale? He’s there?”

“I have to go,” you said quickly. “Talk later.”

You hung up before he had a chance to say goodbye. He tried calling you back but you ignored it.

Joel stood there, staring at his cart for a moment, his head swimming.

Was he freaking out because it was you and he didn’t want you alone at some romantic looking cabin with your ex-husband? Was it because he knew that you weren’t in a place to handle this right now? Was it because he knew - knew - that your ex was a goddamn predator?

He’d bitten his tongue about that fact since you’d been back, that the man you’d married had been more than twice your age and you’d only been a legal adult for all of a month when he’d met you. It didn’t matter that it was you, that Joel had gone searching for you and found you there with him all those years ago, he’d want to beat the shit out of a man like that regardless of who it was. A man like that couldn’t be trusted.

He especially couldn’t be trusted with you.

Joel checked out as fast as he could, calling Tommy as he drove.

“Hey, need you to do me a favor,” he said quickly.

“You always need me to do you a favor,” Tommy said. “One of these days I’m gonna cash in.”

“Yeah, who got you the only job besides the army you’ve kept longer than a week?” Joel asked.

Tommy sighed.

“Fine. What’s up?”

“Need you to take Sarah tonight.”

“Joel, come on!”

“M’serious,” Joel said. “Goldie’s ex just showed up at the fucking cabin…”

“Oh, not that fucking asshole from the funeral,” Tommy cut him off.

“That’s the one,” Joel said.

“Fuck that guy,” Tommy said. “He needs to stay the fuck away from her.”

“Yeah, somethin’ tells me he ain’t gonna make that choice on his own,” Joel said. “So I need you to pick up Sarah and take her for the night. And bring me my shit tomorrow. I’ll text you the address where Sarah’s at, she’s at her friend’s playing right now, needs to be picked up about five…”

“Yeah, I got it,” Tommy said. “Go save the day.”

Joel drove as fast as he dared, not familiar enough with where cops liked to hide to go too fast. He pulled up in front of the cabin you’d sent him the information for a week and a half earlier. He’d have admired it, in another circumstance. He’d always wanted a place like this, someplace quiet where there was enough space to live a little, maybe hunt. A place where Sarah could run and play and get to know nature a little.

But in that moment, he was too pissed to take it in.

He grabbed a bag out of the trunk - pretense more than anything else - and stalked up to the door before knocking on it, his fist coming down in heavy thuds on the wood.

You pulled open the door, a surprised look on your face and your ex-husband at your back.

He looked just about the same as Joel remembered him from before. Tall but not as tall as him, a refined air about him that made Joel want to deck him, a smug look on his face. His hair was gray and his face was wrinkled and Joel fucking hated him.

“Joel,” you said, staring at him. “What are you…”

Joel did the only thing he could think to do, fucking Brad standing so close to you with a hand between your shoulder blades like he fucking owned you.

“Missed you too much, baby,” he said, watching your eyes go a little wide at the word. “Couldn’t wait until tomorrow.”

He reached out and cupped the hinge of your jaw, his fingers wrapping around the back of your neck and he tugged you closer, his heart beating so fast he was sure that your fucking ex could hear it.

But he didn’t care.

All he cared about was the way your lips felt on his when he kissed you.

Next Chapter

A/N: I mean we can all agree, fuck Brad/Gale.

But also... his presence does get results.

THANKS FOR PUTTING UP WITH ME! Love you!

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #slow burn #halcyon

153 notes · View notes

sevsdollette · 3 months

Text

Not So Sweet [Sevika x fem reader]

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49324864/chapters/137713357

content warning: trigger warning for violence against the reader. if mean men in bars freak you out, read with caution. other than that, alcohol, gambling, smoking, and smut (obviously). reader eats sevika out. fingering. sorry if you just want it to be sevika doing shit to the reader, but yk the woman has needs as well.

summary: You go out with Sevika as her gambling date. It’s a calm night at the Last Drop where everything should be fun and easy. But your beauty doesn’t just attract Sevika.

chapters:

1. Relaxing Night

2. A Long Night at Work

3. A Gamble of A Night

note: tell me why every chapter title has the word night in it. i’m back @-@. so yeah it’s been a minute. hope no one is too mad at me. this one maybe a bit shorter than the others? not entirely sure. also i know this ends with like a cliff hanger, but i promise the next chapter will leave no holes in the time line. you gays will get what you want. sorry if there’s spelling mistakes i wrote most of this on my phone. it’s not like i’m an AP english student or anything (i am :/) also sorry for the format being a bit different. tumblr is pissing me the fuck off right now. i don’t care to fix the spacing between the paragraphs. i’m tired.

————————————18+————————————

The glow of the Last Drops neon sign felt a bit more familiar than before. This time, more than a drink was waiting for you inside.

It was a clear, hot night with busy streets and crowded alleys, and you were wearing a black catsuit with long sleeves and shorts that hardly covered your ass. The zipper down the front was pulled so low the clothes were practically falling off of you.

This time, when you walked up to the bouncer, past the long, impatient line, you hardly had to open your mouth before he was opening the door and letting you in. The groans and hateful stares of the people waiting felt like a crown on your head. You were still scum, sure, but for the night you were important.

On that evening, the bar wasn’t full of screaming patrons and blasting music, but slow, cool jazz. It was their calmest night where the low lamps gave off an orange-red glow on the deep wooden walls, and every shadow seemed comforting. People sat calmly at their tables, passing cards and taking shots. The ceiling hung low with the smoke of cigars and cigarettes. A sweet smell of booze wafted through the room, making any nasty smell of the people buying the drinks.

In her normal corner booth, Sevika was sitting with four men, cigarette pressed between her lips and cards in her hands. She was laughing lightly as she passed a card into the center of the table. The candle in the middle of the room illuminated her face and curved around her features. Beautiful, you thought, staring at her vibrant eyes.

As you waded through the tables of the room, she noticed you approaching, glancing over as the conversation at her table continued. Keeping an eye on you. You kept your cool, only giving a small smile back as you approached. Men of the bar kept looking up at your figure as you walked by their tables, admiring the way the leather suit curved over your hips and hugged your thighs.

The other men at the table were just as harsh and brutish as Sevika, all with scars over their faces or hands, rugged clothes, and a mean glare. They were younger than her but older than you, and they didn’t seem too friendly when you came up to the table.

One of them, with white blonde hair and a blind eye, wrinkled her nose as he looked you up and down. With a toothpick in his mouth, he questioned, “Who’s that?”

Sevika cleared her throat, looking down at her cards as she drew another from the deck. “I hired her.”

You froze, brow furrowing as your upper lip curled. Your services didn’t involve simple company at a bar. You surely didn’t want to be here if she was going to pay you for it.

She chuckled under her breath, looking up at you. “I’m kidding, doll. Sit down.” She tapped the spot on the cushion next to her.

Apprehensive, you sat beside her slowly. If this night was just going to be her being a bitch, you weren’t going to get involved. You could go back to Babettes and earn your dinner like always. You didn’t need her free food. And her expensive rum. And her perfectly rolled clove cigarettes…

The more you looked around the table, the longer you wanted to stay. You’d seen her and her men around the bar before but never noticed how nice of a night they always had. Each man was sitting comfortably around the booth with either a cigar, cigarette, or drink, lounging as they waited for the game to start. The loud music was slightly muffled, making the table almost cozy and closed off.

They were just finishing a game as you got there, a pile of coins in front of Sevika and dwindling collections by the other players. They were settling bets and getting more drinks, idle conversation as everyone got ready for another round. Sevika shuffled the deck and delt you your own hand.

You were sitting close to her, but just far enough away so you didn’t touch. A distance she would have to choose to close if she really wanted to. Yes, you liked her and wanted her attention, but you weren’t going to devote yourself to her to get it. If she really liked you, she’d take what she wanted.

And it didn’t take her long. As she was puting your cards down in front of her, she smiled and met your eyes. Her gaze drifted down your neck, chest, and down to your lap. She was close, her broad figure looming beside you enough to block your view of three of the men.

Her eyebrows raised. “You’ve got something on your neck.”

A heat hit your face as you rubbed the skin under your chin. God, you couldn’t look decent just once. “What is it?”

“Something I left for you.”

Your hands dropped and you rolled your eyes. “Oh, fuck off.”

She smiled wider, shaking her head and sitting back. The tables was coming back together and everyone was picking up their cards as a waitress came around with more drinks. She had a glass for you and Sevika poured you some rum. The waitress smiled a bit too sweetly at Sevika when she said thank you, and it made you inch a bit closer to her.

You picked up your cards and sipped your drink. Rum was never your favorite, but in this setting, it felt right. Your deal wasn’t the worst, but you;d defitnety have to sit out for the round. You were trying to play your best.

At the brothel, you and your tolerable coworkers would play and gamble during slow hours all the time. Your room was the hot spot where everyone would crown around the coffee table, taking a smoke break, and having good fun. It was never that serious, everyone putting their earrings or hair clips in as prizes only to hand them back at the end of the game. But, there was a skill level that all of you developed.

And you were the best.

You all got through two games that Sevika won. She truly enjoyed it. A sly smile spread across her face as she collected everyone’s coins, only handing you a coy apology and running her hand up your though to make up for it. It didn’t matter to you. Your cards weren’t that good anyway.

Though, you liked the way she got when she was that happy. She was touchy. She would “accidentally” brush her hand over your tit, and she really liked to fiddle with that zipper that rested between your ribs. You’d push her away, saying something about how stupid she was being and how the alcohol was getting to her, and she’d give a boozy smile and turn to shuffle the cards again.

On the third game, you got a good hand. A really good hand. You kept your cool as you saw the empress and her court smiling up at your on the painted card. Every mention of a tell that your friends had mentioned to you ran through your head and you hid every sign. No one would know. You would win.

It took great thought to get through. Early on, Sevika noticed how much more focused you were, and it caused her to keep putting more money on the table. The men all had relatively bad hands except for one, but he backed out after a while, not trying to get in the middle of whatever mental battle you and Sevika were engaged in.

In the end, with the final turn of a card, you had won. With a huge pile of copper in teh middle fo the table, you whooped and bounced in your seat, grinning as you pulled all of the money towards yourself.

Sevika was angry. You could see it in the way she wouldn’t look at you adn how she stared into her empty glass. Her jaw was clamped tightly shut and she was thinking hard, still looking at the coins you’d taken from her. It wasn’t her fault. She hardly knew you, and she had expected you to be moer of an open book then your were. To be truthful, she dind’t know the half of who you were, and that was her fatal flaw.

Part of her still thougth of you as those prissy virgins she usually saw. It was hard for her to accept that she liked someone so similar to her own spiteful nature. She didn’t like it unless you two were naked, apparently.

She swallowed and shook her head. “I let you win.”

Your nose wrinkled. “Shut up.”

A fake laugh tossed itself from her lips and she held her hands in helplessness. “Just trying to be nice. If I beat you every time, you won’t enjoy it so much. There’s no way you can actually win.”

“Sevika—“ You scoffed, shaking your head at her as you wondered why she fucking bothered to say those things. “Whatever. I’m going to get a cocktail.”

She chuckled bitterly as you stood up. “Rum’s too strong?”

You held your middle finger up behind you as you stomped to the bar. Sevika muttered something else under her breath that you didn’t want to hear. The lively jazz that filled hte bar felt so suffocating now as you walked past a betting table thick with smoke. You didn’t need her pouting just because you won. It was supposed to be a fun night. Only a baby cried because they lost a stupid game.

You sat at the bar and ordered a drink. The bartender was a nice but nervous man who must’ve known who you were accompanying. He stuttered as he took your order and nearly dropped the vodka when he went to pour it. He was good at his job though adn your drinks as sweet with an after taste that stung your throat. You thanked him and made soem idle conversation, knowing that Sevika was watching you out of the corner of her eye.

You could feel the heat of her anger even from that far away. You planned on sitting at the bar for a little longer, let them play a game without you so she could get a win back under her belt. Maybe then she’d be nicer.

The bartender Thieram was a nice man who made you rlaugh once or twice as you sipped your drink. He was respectful. Most men either didn’t like you or liked you too much. It wasn’t often your found someone who treated you like a friend.

This fact was proven a few minutes later when a man steppe dup to the bar to order a beer. He was probably almost thirty with black hair graying on the sides and a long tattoo down her left forearm. He was ugly. But ugly in a way that some people found very attractive, though the second you stared at him for too long, he looked like an abstract painting.

You only glanced at him for a second before stirring your drink while waiting to talk to Thieram again. He had a deep, angry voice. After Thieram turned away, he stayed at the bar and leaned against it, turning to face you. “You alright, babe?”

You didn’t look up. “Who are you calling babe?”

“Just a pretty woman I see at the bar.” He chuckled. “I’m Leox.”

“And I’m not interested.”

None of your blatant signals got through to him. In fact, he stepped closer. Enough that you could smell the weed he’d been smoking. “Come on. You seemed kinda upset at your table. Why don’t you come and join mine? I’ll treat you real good.”

“Oh, will you?”

“Yes,” he sighed. He leaned in, brushing your hair off your forehead. “I will.”

“Hm,” you hummed, closing your eyes as you pretended to enjoy his flirting. “Well…”

You pushed him away. “I’m still not interested.”

You only did men if they paid you for it.

The firm hand you placed on his shoulder withdrew only slightly before he gripped your wrist in place. For a brief moment your breath caught as he tugged you off of your stool and you were stumbling into him.

He grabbed your jaw firmly and pulled your face up to look at him. “Why couldn’t you just be nice? I know you’re just some whore. I could’ve paid well too.”

You jerked from his grasp, trying to turn around to get free and run out of there. He smelt awful and his breath was hot in your face. His teeth were yellow.

You were able to jam your heel into his toes, making him flinch so you could wriggle free, but as you were getting away, his foot caught under you and you fell to the ground. Your palms took the blunt of the pain as you scrambled to get yourself up.

As you pulled yourself to your feet, a heavy set of footsteps was storming past you and towards the man. In your panic, and with the moment being so quick, you hardly heard what she was saying to him—yelling at him.

You spun around, uneasy on your feet, and only saw their final interaction: Her fist against his face.

Once such a strong, intimidating man crumbled into a heap on the floor. Sevika stood over him, shimmer coursing through her metal arm and heavy breaths moved her shoulders, flexing the muscle. She turned around and you only saw the faint glint of purple in her eyes before she passed you again and ordered her men to take the guy out back. Teach him a lesson, she said.

The bar was silent. The woman humming low jazz was standing shocked beside her accordion player, the other patrons were trying to keep their gazes down, and Thieram was standing helpless behind the bar, terrified. You felt your face get hot as you stepped back subconsciously, your arms crossing and hugging your ribs.

Sevika was done barking orders and came up to you, pulling you back into the private room of the bar. The familiar place almost brought back amusing memories if you weren’t so upset.

She pulled you into her arms, examining you and making sure you were alright. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“No,” you shook your head. “No, I’m fine. Shit like that happens all the time to me.”

She exhaled heavily through her nose and looked at the door. She must’ve been pondering whether to go help her men or not, but your hand on hip kept her there.

You two ended up sitting on the couch together sharing a cigarette. You were beside her with your legs rested across her lap and your head on her shoulder. She had her hand gripping your thigh and her metal arm wrapped over your shoulders.

You looked up at her face after a long drag and saw how tense her face was, how she didn’t seem to be moving an inch. Staring off into space with a firm furrow in her brow.

“Sev?” You frowned, brushing her stray hairs off her forehead. “Don’t be so upset. Everything’s okay.”

Sure, you were a bit shaken, but men were always like that to you. It wasn’t right, but it was something you had to get used to. She’d have to understand that if she were to be around you.

She pursed her lips. “It’ll be okay as long as he gets what he deserves.”

You ran your thumb over the muscles of her collar. “Just try to calm down.”

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do.”

You sighed, understand the aggression wasn’t towards you. To be honest, you didn’t feel unsafe at all with her. Even though her eyes still sparkled violet when the lamplight caught it.

“Everything will be okay,” you assured. “I’m fine and he’s gonna get what’s coming to him. Relax, dear.”

Again you rubbed her collar and shoulder, your fingers trying to ease any tension she had. You leaned in to place a small kiss under her jaw, and as your lips brushed her skin, she held you tighter against her.

You kissed her neck again, lingering to drag your tongue over her in a way that made her sign and settle into the couch. The action spurred you on and you left another heavy kiss to her pulse point, making sure to leave proof that you did so.

You climbed into her lap and straddled on of her thighs, the right muscle fitting right against your clit. She let you tilt her head back so you could keep up your actions.

“What…”

A sly smile spread across your lips and you kissed below her ear. “Just trying to help you relax,” you cooed, a bit of mischief in your voice as one of your hands fiddled with the top button of her vest.

As you pulled the button free, her hand on your thigh got ever so slightly tighter and you remembered the shimmer in her system.

“Come on, Sev, don’t be so upset. Don’t let him ruin the night.”

You dragged your kisses down her chest, letting more of her buttons become undone until she was helping you pull her arms out of the sleeves and you tossed her shirt onto the other side of the couch.

She looked magnificent, curving muscle winding down her stomach, scars lacing her skin, and her breasts dark and nipples pebbled from the cold.

As you took the moment to admire her, she grabbed your ass and nudged you to keep going. You’d never expect her to be so lenient on letting you have control, but maybe she was trusting you more. Or maybe she just really needed to let some stress out.

Your tongue slid across her chest, lips finding one of her breasts for you to suck on. You twirled your tongue around her nipple, sucking it into your mouth and rolling it around your teeth. She moaned, gripping you hair and letting you grind on her thigh. It was a perfect mixture of giving and receiving, all of her grains sending shockwaves to your core and you reveled in the taste of her.

You wanted to taste more.

As you slid onto the floor on your knees, you dragged you hands down her thighs and then up to undo her belt. She was breathing heavily as you kissed down her stomach, enjoying the sensation of her muscle against your lips. You pulled her pants down with her underwear, wrestling them over her boots and letting them be lost somewhere in the room.

Adrenaline led you to avidly kiss down her thighs, licking over every inch on the insides as you got closer and closer to her core. You could tell her was ready for you, her hand gripped the back of your head, waiting to hold your mouth against her. You moaned as she tugged at your hair lightly, trying to get you to start.

You left a long kiss on her inner thigh, just an inch from her pussy befor turning to begin. Only, you stopped to look up at her flushed face as smile.

“You’re so gorgeous, Sev.”

The compliment was not taken happily. “I swear to god—you and that fucking mouth of yours,” She breathed, her pupils blown as she rolled her eyes.

“Oh, you don’t like the teasing when it’s the other way around?”

“Just eat,” she huffed, pushing your face into her core.

It was hot and dripping, so ready for you. You lifted one thigh into your shoulder and spread her folds with your fingers. Her hairs were well kept and trimmed, brushing your nose as you dragged your tongue through her, tasting her.

She moaned, pushing your face further into her as you found her clit, flattening your tongue and coaxing over the bud. As you worked her up, you slid your fingers down and circled her entrance slowly, teasing it lightly.

Another heavy groan fell from her as she tightened her legs around your head. You could hardly hear her due to the clamp her thighs had over your ears.

Everything was so intense, the scent of her, the taste, the pressure of her legs, and the ughh grip she had on your hair. All you could do was kiss and lick her clit, enjoying the moment. It was so overwhelming you completely forgot any else that had happened that night.

You flicked her bud with the tip of your tongue, sucking on it as you slid two fingers into her.

It made her tense up and her head fell back over the back of the couch. She was desperate, holding your face so close and gently rocking her hips against your tongue as you fucked your fingers into her.

“Fuck, baby, don’t stop,” she demanded. You could sense her stress waning as she breathed deep and relaxed into you. You circled your fingers against her walls every time you pushed them in, sucking and licking her clit as you did so.

With your other hand, you pulled down the zipper of your suit and reached under the leather to find yourself. All of her heaving and moaning was too much for you to handle. The taste of her alone made you drip. You slid your fingers between your lips, finding your eager, swollen bud and stroking it.

You moaned against her, the vibrations making her gasp and you quickened your pace on both her and you. She was desperate, fucking heralded on your face bc had while you moaned against her clit and sucked. Rapid, intelligible words fell from her lips as she reached her high, curses and praised to you crescendoing into muttering whines as she came.

The pressure of her legs and your fingers rubbing over your clit was enough to get yourself there too. You cried out into her folds, the stimulation making her jerk as she came down from her high with you.

The both of you were breathing heavily as you crawled back up to her lap. She held you, sliding her hands past the unzipped front of your catsuit so she could feel your hot skin.

Your lips met in a messy clash or desperation. She dragged her teeth over your bottom lip as she made her grind your pussy against hers, the overstimulation making you both shudder.

Just as easily as you’d fallen into her kiss, she was pulling away and moving you off her lap. She set you down on the couch as she stood up, grabbing her clothes off the floor and couch to put them back on.

You sat up, anger and panick setting in. Did you do something wrong? “What—where are you going?”

She began to button her vest up, a grin sliding over her lips. “I’m taking you home.”

#fanfic #arcane #arcane league of legends #fanfiction #smut #sevika #sevika x reader #sevika x y/n #sevika fanfic #sevika smut #sevika arcane #arcane sevika #lesbian

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prismatic-bell · 1 year

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So @hejeksbs saw that post about fandom olds freaking out about IWTV stuff being posted on the AO3, and said they’re new to fandom and fandom culture and don’t understand. So congrats, Hejek, you’re one of today’s lucky 10,000. This is going to be a basic primer, but I encourage others to chime in with details. (Also, thanks for reminding me I need an Interview exhibit in the museum. I had that written down somewhere.)

So if you go back to the 1990s and early 2000s—the pre-AO3 digital years—you’re going to see an official disclaimer on just about every fic. These basically said “I don’t own anything here, please don’t sue me.” Some were quoted elaborate.

These started because of Anne Rice.

See, Anne Rice was, how can I say this nicely…an asshole? The day she died there were literally people posting crab rave and “Ding Dong, The Witch Is Dead” from The Wizard of Oz on Tumblr. Because before Harry Potter fanfiction was pretty frowned upon and you might get a C&D if you didn’t keep your head down properly, but Anne Rice.

ANNE RICE.

Anne Rice literally recruited her “loyal fans” to harass people who made fanworks. At least one person was doxxed to her workplace by rabid Ricers, and at the time fanfiction was taboo enough you could absolutely get fired for that. I was eleven and friends with someone who was 13 who’d just read Interview and drew this wonky I-am-a-kid-who-can’t-really-draw-yet-but-I-loved-this-SO-MUCH piece of fanart of Louis and Lestat, and she literally dipped off the internet because she got an extremely nasty “I’m suing you” threat from Rice. (Are you out there, Mercury000? It’s me, sailorsharon0722.)

Anne Rice did everything in her power to ensure there was no IWTV fandom at all. I’ve heard from people older than me that she used to host a “vampire’s ball” every year in New Orleans for her “loyal fans” but if you showed up and she felt your costume outshone her own, she’d make you leave. People didn’t dare so much as put “Lestat” and “fanfiction” in the same sentence.

And then, irony of ironies, when her reputation got so bad she was struggling to sell books, she…became a Christian and started writing Bible fanfiction to sell.

Yeah.

Over the years there were claims she’d changed her mind about fanfiction, but nobody ever had evidence to back this up. I even saw a dude on Quora claiming to be a close friend of hers saying we were all lying, and he got absolutely ratioed by fans going “I still have my C&D letter, you wanna fucking try again?”

Incidentally, I would like to point out that her attitude wasn’t uniform. It’s easy to say “that’s just how it was,” but Neil Gaiman has been around since the 1980s and has always appreciated fanfiction. Stephen King’s approach is “please tell me, to my face, that me explicitly writing about Cthulhu isn’t fanfiction” and otherwise pretty lassez-faire (he has no interest in knowing you’re writing fanfiction of his stuff, he just genuinely doesn’t care), and his first book was published in the early 1970s. Gene Roddenberry, creator of Star Trek, actually accepted submissions of fanfiction scripts DURING THE SHOW’S ORIGINAL RUN, at least according to popular lore. (@dduane, can you check me on this?) Mercedes Lackey—who’s 1980s-and-1990s fantasy royalty—has been asked on Quora about why she “changed her mind about fanfiction” and her response was “I never changed my mind, I just had to talk my publisher into accepting it. I’ve always been okay with it but I had to say no because of my contract.” Sure, Diana Galbaldon was out there comparing fanfiction to rape(????), but even among those who disapproved of fanfiction, Rice’s attitude and actions were extreme. And they persisted into the 2000s, too, with her egging on fans who harassed and sent death threats to a YouTube reviewer who didn’t like one of her books.

AO3 changed ALL of that.

AO3 said “here is our well-researched legal claim that fanfiction is legal, and if someone gives you shit about works you have posted on our website, our lawyers will represent you. You can post safely here. It’s okay. We got your back.”

Even so, the fear about Anne Rice continued. And can you blame people? This woman’s name held the same power in fannish conversations as “Voldemort.” (A moniker by which I’ve actually heard her called.) She all but destroyed the old guard, on purpose.

….and then a new generation of fans happened. A new generation that didn’t remember life before AO3, had never known anyone who literally had to move house to get away from Rice’s minions’ threats and harassment. I know we use “nature is healing” as a joke on this website, but really truly, that’s what happened here. She left charred tree trunks and bushes that were old-school fans and from their ashes tiny little 2010s-fans seedlings began to grow.

The thousand-odd fics you saw in those screenshots (which I feel I should clarify are from before the new show came out—a show that must have her turning in her grave, because she was absolutely adamant that all her vampires were STRAIGHT and if you thought otherwise you were DISGUSTING, and I hope she spins so hard her corpse combusts) are absolutely shocking to us older fans because it’s like staggering out of a nuclear wasteland and spotting a little garden with signs saying “free nuclear-illness medical services” and realizing it’s real. What the fuck, what the fuck, but also, holy shit y’all we’re so proud of you. YES. Keep going. Don’t let the witch get you down.

EDIT: I’ve been informed by someone in the notes that IT ACTUALLY GETS WORSE:

I’m not going to transcribe the whole thing because I’m on mobile and most of it is just bog-standard post notes, but what’s relevant is @theoriginalvelocipastor saying “OP forgot the part where she [Anne Rice] would take ideas from fanfiction.”

Like holy motherFUCKER this woman’s hypocrisy.

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lov3rei · 1 month

Text

One of my friends had requested this but she doesn’t have tumblr but I thought I might as well post it on here.

IN WHICH,

the greasers/gang reacts to how you hug them out of no where.

!! WARNINGS !!

Just a slight bit of cussing and a lot of fluff. Enjoy!

Darrel Curtis

- oh lover boy

- would kinda freak out ngl

- but he enjoys your hugs

- he’s not really affectionate himself but he can and also will hug you back if he had the meaning too

- he thinks it’s really sweet of you to just give him a hug like that

Sodapop Curtis

- he is probably DYING to get a hug from you

- once he did, he was happy, like very very happy

- he couldn’t explain it

- just like Darry, he enjoys your hugs, a lot

- not to mention but bro is the type of one to have you in a death grip, and won’t let go until you can’t breathe

- Stan Sodapop, he’s the type of one to grab YOUR ass while hugging you 😭

Ponyboy Curtis

- just a hug of reassurance would be good for once in a while

- but this time it wasn’t out of reassurance

- it was out of love actually

- that boy was shocked

- he loves your hugs, he wishes he can stay in your arms all day

- but, he can’t:c

Johnny Cade

- this boy would do ANYTHING to get his hands on affection but he is somewhat scared someone is going to hurt him after what his parents did to him

- you hugged him and told him that everything was going to be okay, and that you weren’t going to let no one hurt him anymore

- he struggles to show how he feels so you randomly hugging him out of no where lets him open up a bit

- he loves your hugs too much to be honest, he’s so affectionate starved

- but is careful around other people when you hug him because he doesn’t want to get you NOR him jumped because that’s his biggest fear

Steve Randle

- god, can you handle the Randle?

- I sure as hell can’t

- giving this man a hug is like asking for a death wish

- he’s just like soda, he’ll hug you back but when he hugs you, it’s like you’re gonna die from suffocation

- but he’s really sweet about you giving him random hugs

- he thinks it’s adorable

Two-Bit Matthews

- hehe you like giving hugs to Two-Bit Matthews

- he’s so sweet and passionate about it, you can’t get over it- what???

- craves your touch fr

- he’s always talking about you to the rest of the gang about how you just give him random ass hugs out of no where and he won’t SHUT UP.

“You know, my girlfriend gives me hugs randomly- and I love them so much, just like the feeling of her on me makes me wanna scream- and I can’t explai-“

“SHUT UP TWO-BIT, YOU TALK TOO MUCH, WONDER WHY WE DIDNT CALL YOU TWO-SHITS 🙄😒”

“🙁🙏”

- yeah and it goes a little something like that

Dallas Winston

- Dally, Dally, Dally.

- he hates affection. (No he wouldn’t have a soft side for you. Unless it’s out of character.)

- but he likes them, somewhat.

- it’s kinda confusing to tell if he likes them or he’s just cringing

- sometime he needs that hug too no matter what he’s going through

- but he doesn’t like the feeling, of love actually after what happened with him and Sylvia.

- there’s a slight 5% chance he’ll hug you back but most of the time he will just wrap an arm around you or he doesn’t hug back.

A/N: thank you for reading this as it my first headcannon post. Normally when I post these, it’s on Wattpad or something else, but this one just kinda felt special with me, you know? anyways, bye!!!

#dallas winston #dally winston #the outsiders #ponyboy curtis #the outsiders ponyboy #johnny cade #two bit mathews #steve randle #darrel curtis #im gay #I need Matt Dillion oiled up in my bed for my birthday #stay gold #the outsiders x reader

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lnsfawwi · 6 months

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bucky is anti-peggy: their relationships with steve and why bucky will always overshadow peggy as love interest

hardly anything novel but I have to get it out of my system. interpretations are strictly in-universe just to be fair. also seb headcanons are canon, I won't hear otherwise!

the difference between stucky and steggy can be summed up by their respective reactions to beefed-up Steve. someone on tumblr points out that these two scenes also serve as analogies of their relationships. steggy would always be about peggy reaching out, their relationship would be under the spotlight, be the center of attention while stucky is the reverse. I just want to add to that.

Peggy was literally dazzled, she tried to touch his naked body, she was eager to see what this body could do (sexually, among other things). that's the first time she saw steve as sexually attractive, the first time she saw steve at all if we are honest, and what she saw was this jacked-up version of him, an icon-to-be, someone whom steve never really accepted as himself. In essence, the first time she really paid attention to steve as the love interest, was the moment steve became someone else.

Bucky, who was tortured for days, if not weeks, still delirious, was confused bc that was not his steve, he probably didn't even think Steve was real at first. Bucky was experimented on, he likely knew there were similar human experiments aimed to enhance, he knew science like that was possible, but whose science? so that's the first question, 'what happened?' Steve joined the army, okay, so this was not forced onto him, probably. then the next thing he asked was, 'did it hurt?' he didn't care how strong it made Steve, he only wanted assurance that Steve was fine. like, what if the process hurt? what could bucky possibly do? nothing. it's not about whether it hurt, it was just bucky simply giving a shit about steve's wellbeing. we don't even need to get into the 'little kid from brooklyn' line.

peggy witnessed a magical transformation and was amazed by the eventual product but bucky saw his best friend who must've gotten through something excruciating. peggy could never fall in love with skinny steve when that's all bucky saw, until the very end (sebastian said bucky probably never got used to big steve).

another contrast would be the final plane crash. sebastian was asked whether Bucky would've gotten on that plane with Steve or stayed behind like Peggy. seb's answer is that Bucky would've tried to get on that plane cuz he felt responsible for steve, and he'd fall again.

the thing is that, had Bucky been on that plane, Steve never would've crashed it. he would've done anything to save Bucky. he didn't have to crash that plane which was canon (pointed out by rhodey). steve could've got out but he didn't. Bucky being there would've given him the motivation to do so. any other person would tbh, but only Bucky would be willing to be on that plane bc Peggy canonly wasn't. in addition to bucky's willingness to follow steve literally into the jaws of death, in this hypothetical scenario, Bucky would be the reason for Steve to live in catfa.

that leads to yet another contrast.

'just go! get out of here!' 'no, not without you!'

steve, who had no idea what he was capable of, jumped through fire for bucky.

'don't do this, there's still time, let me find a way...' 'a lot of people are gonna die if I don't do this, peggy. this's my choice.'

despite peggy's pleading, steve crashed the plane.

the word choice appeared several times in catfa. the first time was when peggy told philip that it was steve's choice (to die trying to save bucky). the second time was when peggy told steve that bucky made a choice (to die fighting with him). and the third time was when steve told peggy it was his choice (to sacrifice himself). it's no coincidence that each and every time the choice was each other, steve echoing the word at the end made it clear that he was doing this for bucky.

a relationship goes both ways. steve and bucky are canonly willing to, and did, die and live for each other. peggy simply doesn't have that level of impact on steve. in fact, steve literally repeatedly chose bucky over her in catfa.

put it simply, bucky and steve care more about each other than themselves, peggy didn't even care about skinny steve in that sense. she also literally couldn't because she only met skinny steve twice. briefly.

plus as I said previously bucky is the only one standing in between a traditional cishet hypermasculine image of steve and the real steve, peggy is the one element that fulfils the false image.

everything bucky is, peggy is the opposite. the differences quite literally result in different interpretations of steve. and who can say honestly that endgame steve is better than cap trilogy steve？

#bucky barnes #steve rogers #stucky #stevebucky #anti steggy #captain america the first avenger #stucky is in the narrative #captain america #I used SO MANY literally omg #I'm so bad at writing

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sailor-aviator · 2 months

Text

Hey.

Go ahead and get settled because this will be...long, in true Liz fashion.

So, by now I'm sure most of you have heard what's happened. If not, you can search this blog for some answers or others for more.

I joined this fandom offiicially at the end of September after being a long time lurker. I had just lost my job and times were uncertain for me. I felt inspired to write, and as someone whose formative years were shaped by the fandom experience, I wanted to feel that sense of belonging again - to feel like a part of a community. I've talked about it on here before, but I started my fandom days in the original Hunger Games fandom when the first movie had just come out, and then I shifted gears towards the SuperWhoLock fandom. If you know anything about SuperWhoLock, then you know you had to have pretty tough fucking skin to be a part of any of it.

Of course, this was back in the day when fandom was an actual community and not authors having to beg for scraps of engagement and people thinking its a numbers game. I was a fairly large blog within the SuperWhoLock community (Waywardly-Carrying-On was the username), but I left fandom for a few years because life got hectic and I felt like I had outgrown the fandom itself as I was no longer watching any of the shows. As the years went on, I started to yearn for the fandom experience again, which is how I found myself dipping toes into several different ones.

I was so excited to publish my first fanfic. I had convinced myself that I wasn't a good writer (much to the chagrin of my irl friends), and I had put a pause on writing my original story. I wanted to write this idea about a cowboy and a girl using characters that I had grown to love like I did way back in my older days. So, I started posting, and I was so excited for the story, that I kept posting almost daily. MamaMay was one of the first people to embrace not only my story, but me as a person into the fandom. She made me feel welcomed and wanted.

Pretty much right off the bat I was already getting anons telling me that I was being too much and that I needed to calm down with all the posting. I was confused because...this is Tumblr. It's literally a blogging website? Why wouldn't I post? I decided to ignore the mean words (not before giving my opinion, of course) and kept on doing my thing. Well, the anons got continually worse and worse. I had a suspiscion as to who the anons could be, but I never had concrete proof. So, I experimented with blocking suspects until finally it worked. I'm not naming names because that's not my style, so don't even bother asking.

The fact of the matter is, some of you have entered fandom spaces for the first time, and you don't know how to act. You don't care to learn fandom etiquette as you've made abundantly clear by calling fandom olds every name under the sun while utilizing the anonymous feature. Newsflash, you're part of the problem. You're the reason why authors don't want to publish anymore. You are the reason that something that's supposed to be fun is starting to feel like a goddamn chore.

How many times can authors on here say that we aren't machines? We have lives outside of this website: family, friends, jobs, school, etc. Some of you really are just hellbent on making everyone around you miserable, and it's sad. You can't just leave well enough alone and let people enjoy something, no you feel like everyone has to enjoy it the same way as you.

Some of you go after authors on here because of some weird sense of jealousy too. I don't know why my shit blew up, babe, I really don't. But I started out with no followers and no support just like everyone else. I'll tell you what helped me though: following fandom etiquette and reaching out to other creators to build an actual community. None of this "I've reblogged three of your things and now I'm messaging you so that you return the favor." No, I reached out to make actual friendships which is what fandom is SUPPOSED to be. If someone was clearly not interested, it was fine!! I backed off and kept doing my own thing.

Some of you think being mean on the internet makes you big and bad. Guess what! It doesn't! It's loser mentality and I feel genuinely sorry for you. I'm sorry that people in your own life made you feel so small as to feel like you had to lash out at strangers on the internet who are just trying to have fun.

Anyway, this is my really long way of saying that I am taking a break for a little bit. I have no idea how long it will be - could be the weekend, could be a couple of weeks, could be forever. I need time to decide if this is something I want to keep persuing. If I come back, I don't know if I will remain a TGM blog or if I'll shift gears and hop into another fandom with a rebrand. Guess we'll just have to see.

To the people on here who have been a constant source of joy, laughter, and support: thank you. From the bottom of my heart. Your presence has meant everything to me, and I hope that my break sees me wanting to come back and giggle about the silly plane movie with you all again.

Nothing but love,

Liz 💛

#psa #public service announcement #this has been a psa #liz speaks #liz rambles #long post

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tournament-announcer · 3 months

Note

Hey ik this is not tournament related, but in case you didn't know and want to spread the word, Tumblr is selling everybody's data to AI companies.

Here is the staff post about it https://www.tumblr.com/loki-valeska/743539907313778688

And a post with more information and how to opt out https://www.tumblr.com/khaleesi/743504350780014592/

Hi thanks for the information and sorry for my late reply. I was a bit low on spoons this week and I wanted to form thoughts about this.

Because the thing is, I am doing a PhD at an AI department in real-life. Not in generative AI, in fact I’m partly doing this because I distrust how organisations are currently using AI. But so this is my field of expertise and I wanted to share some insights.

First of all yes do try to opt out. We have no guarantee how useful that’s going to be, but they don’t need to be given your data that easily.

Secondly, I am just so confused as to why? Why would you want to use tumblr posts to train your model? Everyone in the field surely knows about the garbage in, garbage out rule? AI models that need to be trained on data are doing nothing more than making statistical predictions based on the data they’ve seen. Garbage in, garbage out therefore refers to the fact that if your data is shit, your results will also be shit. And like not to be mean but a LOT of tumblr posts are not something I would want to see from a large language model.

Thirdly I’ve seen multiple posts encouraging people to use nightshade and glaze on their art but also posts wondering what exactly it is these programs do to your art. The thing is, generative ai models are kinda stupid, they just learn to associate certain patterns in pictures with certain words. However these patterns are typically not patterns we’d want them to pick up on. An example would be a model that you want to differentiate between pictures of birds and dogs, but instead of learning to look for say wings, it learns that pictures of birds usually have a blue sky as background and so a picture of a bird in the grass will be labelled as ‘dog’.

So what glaze and nightshade are more or less doing is exploiting this stupidness by changing a few pixels in your art that will give it a very different label when an AI looks at it. I can look up papers for people who want to know the details, but this is the essence of it.

To see how much influence this might have on your art, see this meme I made a few years ago based on the paper ”Intriguing properties of neural networks”, Figure 5 by Szegedy et al. (2013)

Finally, staff said in that post that they gave us the option to opt out because of the maybe upcoming AI act in Europe. I was under the impression that they should give us this opportunity because of the GDPR and that the AI act is supposed to be more about the use of AI and less about the creation and data aspect but nevertheless this shows that the EU has a real ability to influence these kinds of things and the European Parliament elections are coming up this year, so please go vote and also read up on what the parties are saying about AI and other technologies beforehand (next to everything else you care about) (also relevant for other elections of course but the EU has a good track record on this topic).

Anyway sorry for the long talk, but as I said this is my area and so I felt the need to clarify some things. Feel free to send me more asks if you want to know something specific!

#misc #ai #tumblr #oh yeah nigthwish and glaze are very heavy on your computer so do take that into account #nightshade*

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prince-liest · 2 months

Note

I’m a sex-repulsed ace, and reading the latest chapter of 666 (as well as your analysis here on Tumblr) made me realize that I have been subconsciously thinking about MY OWN sexuality from an allo perspective? And that it has kinda been messing me up?? Like, ever since I learned that sexual attraction was actually a Thing and that it’s Important To People, I had been carrying around a fear of being deficient in some way and not being able to love to the same extent as allos. (1)

Even though I know logically that’s complete garbage and totally untrue, I felt left out of the loop because people seemed to care strongly about this thing I couldn’t even imagine. Whenever it looked like a relationship might happen I panicked for a reason that I couldn’t understand. But now I’m starting to realize that it’s because I was subconsciously terrified of an ‘ulterior motive’ behind the other person’s reasons for wanting to be with me. (2) That part of the reason they even cared was because of something I don’t experience. So thank you, because this realization just clicked into place while reading your work. The thing is, this way of thinking was just internalized in such a way that I didn’t even realize it was there until literally this week. And I think you’re right; one of the main reasons behind that is because I’ve always consumed media written from an allo perspective. (3) If ace/aros are shown at all, they’re depicted as “lacking” and their character development usually revolves around being “fixed” by the story. When I was ~10 years old my mom sometimes let me watch the Big Bang Theory with her (looking back, maybe not the best decision). Anyways, there was one episode deep into the series where Sheldon (who for the past nineish seasons was probably the closest thing to mainstream ace rep) has sex with his girlfriend for the first time. (4) Afterwards, he says something along the lines of “that was better than I thought it would be”, and it’s presented as a Very Good Thing and a big step in their relationship. I think a lifetime of stuff like that makes it very easy to internalize aphobia and feel like the lesser part of the relationship. Or to feel like the other partner is making a huge sacrifice to be with you. That got wayy too long, sorry. All that was just a lot of words to say that I appreciate you. Take care of yourself!(5)

The portrayal of asexuality that you see in media being almost exclusively as you described is very tedious to me because it presumes that something is inherently lacking in aro/aceness rather than that feeling of "lacking" being something that is induced by societal norms. Actually, one of the things that I find additionally alienating is that fandom spaces specifically have been getting better and better about ace characters - but got damn does fandom not jive with aromanticism. Like, a character doesn't want to fuck? That's becoming a liiiittle more fine, it's 2024, we stan consent. But not shipping someone romantically?? Not so easy, now.

I'm glad that my work has been something that resonated with you in this respect! Alastor cares a lot about his reputation as a demon but is pretty blatantly a person who could not possibly give less of a shit about being "wrong" for not being experiencing romantic or sexual attraction. The explanation Viv gave at one point for his own understanding of himself (that he thinks he's just "waiting for the right woman") actually stuck out to me a lot because it's a very "well, nothing is wrong with me for not feeling anything, it's the world that's failed to produce a suitable person" perspective.

But having that kind of confident perspective of your own rightness in the world is really not often portrayed in media, or even in fandom, which even ten years ago was still in the throes of standardizing "Oh, no! Me, gay? These feelings are so wrong!" style m/m content and is honestly not that far off from essentially that for aro/ace characters.

Anyway, all of that is to say that there's not yet much out there that doesn't frame allo/amatonormative values as the default that "even aro/ace people can (and should want to) achieve," and that it's really fun to write a fic that is unequivocally from the perspective of a character who is aroace and doesn't see it as even remotely a fault in himself. Does he have moments where he's a little confused and trying to process how things fit for him? Absolutely. But he just doesn't strike me as the kind of guy who thinks he owes romance to Vox of all people, hahaha. I've written him trying to conform to allo/amatonormativity more with Mimzy, because I think the social standards of their time could push him into it, but Vox? Absolutely not, he does not respect Vox enough for it to even enter his mind.

And then, on the other hand, writing it from an aroace perspective centers the way that romantic and sexual interest can feel like a betrayal of a good thing. With a character like Alastor, it frames romantic and sexual attraction the same alien way that we usually see aromanticism and asexuality framed as.

In the end, this is just one of a plethora of different experiences that aro/ace people can have, but it's one that I really wanted to see represented more, so I'm very happy to write it. I'm glad that you're enjoying it!

#ask #personal #Anonymous #long post #t #aroace #ace #he cares about Vox at this point!#but that's. not really the same as respecting him.#anyway this next chapter is important to me because it's very #how do I put this #“this was okay at the moment but that doesn't mean he's okay with it overall and forever”#“and it does not mean that they've 'progressed' their relationship to the point where Alastor being aroace is a 'nonissue'”#“(feat. ofc the heavy implication that it was an issue in the first place)”#ANYWAY. SOMETIMES I HAVE A HARD TIME EXPRESSING THIS IN NON-FIC WORDS #SO HOPEFULLY THE FIC AS IT CONTINUES SPEAKS FOR ME. I AM GLAD THAT IT HAS SPOKEN TO YOU SO FAR <3 THANK YOU!!#sexuality #my writing #hazbin hotel #this is a hot button topic atm and it took me a minute to write a reply #that didn't seem like it invited discourse lmfao #actually I still feel weird posting my opinion this strongly oops OH WELL

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fanofstuff02 · 2 months

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Part 2 of Adam being stuck with Valentino AU is here. Sooner than I expected I would release, but I’m not complaining. No one is obsessed with this AU more than me >:]

Read the first part and then read this if you’d like, but this starts as more about how Adam sold his soul to Valentino. Maybe this would work better as a first chapter, idk

16+ like Hazbin, also Valentino and his behavior in general

Tags: @woah-why-i-am-here @rius-cave @talesfromawannabejournalist @candyhoiic (hope you don’t mind) @puparella @fightinsoda

Tagging everyone I saw wanting a fic about this again @i--metamorphic--i @helena-hyena

Again Tumblr, I warn people from the start. Please.

Zoe presents and wishes you an awesome day/night!

“So, let me clear the air.” Adam said, scratching the base of his horns. He was sitting on a chair at the porn producer’s office. “You offer me to play on your fuck-movies, and in return, you’ll pay me?”

“Of course! And a place to stay if you need.” Valentino said and smoked his cigarette. “You don’t have to show your face if you don’t want, pretty sure my partner can design something for you.”

The first man bit his lip as he thought about it. It didn't sound too bad. Sex was his old job anyway, why wouldn't he just let it be again? This time he would even get paid in return. He needed a well-paying job. If he didn't pay him 8,500 within a month, that red mafia prick would hang his head permanently on his wall like a fucking painting. And no one else in this goddamn place wanted to hire him. On the other hand, this guy wanted him to fuck anyone he wanted. Including guys. On camera.

“I don’t think it’s..” Valentino looked at the first man. He knew he needed to play big to get him. But he couldn’t let him slip away from his hands. He could make him rich!

“You should go if you aren’t interested. I guess I had a wrong impression about you.”

“Wait-“

“I’m deeply sorry. I thought,” He dramatically said, smoking his cigarette “The first man wouldn’t have problems with sex. I guess your tool is not that great at all.”

“Hey!” Adam said, his tool had nothing to do with that! Not to mention it was the greatest!

“No wonder both Lilith AND Eve left you. I guess Lucifer WAS better.“

“Do you DARE to question how good I’m on bed? I had a ton of fucking kids!” He growled.

“Mmhm. Sure.” Valentino grinned. He was sure that if he used the first man's old insecurities against him, he would volume down the voice of his brain’s rational part. His rage was bubbling and leading him to make the choice he wanted. He could read it all over his face. Who would’ve thought Voxxie’s cameras would actually work on important shit? He thought to himself.

“Fine. I’ll work for you. But for the record, I want on paper that I will not work without the mask.”

“Deal!” Valentino said happily, summoned a pink glowy contract out of thin air and hand it out to the sinner with a pen. Adam read it quickly, it seemed normal. A few days off a week, paying him %58 of their earnings from the movies and monthly enough amount of money and other shit. He signed his name under it and felt something inside him change. Like there was something moving. He wanted to puke, but he held back.

“Excellent!” Valentino said with a wide grin. Why was he was so fucking happy? Because he gained a new whore? He didn’t knew nor care.

“We usually start on 1 pm, but i wanna see you on 11 am here tomorrow. Don’t be late~” He purred, carresing Adam’s hair. It made him uncomfortable. Maybe this was a bad idea. Shit, it definitely was.

“Okay.” He said and walked away to the door, glad that he wasn’t near that creep anymore.

— Five months later —

“Hey Adam. Can we talk? On your room?” Valentino called for him as he entered the studio.

“What’s the matter, Val?” He spoke and he entered his dressing room with him. Their director was also there, smiling as if he knew something Adam didn’t. He hoped this wasn’t that kind of ‘talk’.

“You became quite popular in the media y’know, everyone wants to watch your films. I guess the fallen angel concept was something everyone didn’t knew they needed. Your movies almost outsell Angel Dust's.” Valentino smugly said.

“Angel Dust?” He said, surprised as he remembered the spider demon he used to wa- ahem, see on the streets of hell when he was still an angel himself. Then one day, Lucifer’s brat showed him as a proof for her stupid “redemption” idea. It didn’t seem too stupid now though, if someone could fall, maybe someone could rise too. He had a vague memory of him fighting against his army. He didn’t had a personal hatred against him, but he was hating him as equal as he hated the rest of that hotel. Maybe a little less but still.

“Yes, my dear. Angel Dust. Travis!” He called to his director. “Bring him here!”

“Okay sir!” He rushed, still grinning.

“Why did you ask him to bring him? Why is HE doing that anyway? He asked.

“Ah, there you are.” Valentino spoke softly as Travis came inside with a curious -and slightly scared- Angel Dust, ignoring him.

“Val? Why did you-“ His eyes went wide as he saw the first man standing next to his boss. He did heard about Adam working here, he was left in pure shock when he saw one of his posters. He’d never expect to see that guy as a pornstar and just hoped that he won’t stumble to him. But there he was. His surprised state became anger in a short amount of time and he bared his teeth at the other demon. Adam did the same as he gave him the finger.

“Angel, amorcito! I’m assuming you know our newest bestselling actor!“ Valentino said and he looked at their faces. “Isn’t he such a cutie?”

“What do you want me to do, Val?” Angel asked, trying to keep his calm.

“Hmm, goin straight to the point I see. Okay. Since you are the top-selling sluts I have, I want you two to make a movie together.”

“WHAT?!” They both yelled.

“I’m sorry, but I am not fucking this! I have my standarts!” Adam angrily said, pointing at Angel.

“As if I am so curious about you, dickbag!” Angel crossed his arms and rolled his eyes.

“Suck your own dick!”

“Eat a horse ass!”

“Are you two done? We have a job.” Travis said, though he seemed to enjoy this. Maybe that was why he was grinning later.

“Valentino, I can’t work with him!”

“Me neither!”

“Well that’s a shame, because I want you to do so. Now get ready, my whores.” He smiled to them, although it was clear that his temper was rising. “Get out, Travis. Prepare the stage.”

“But-“

“I wo-“

“DO WHAT I SAY!” The moth demon snapped, summoned both of their chains and yanked them to himself, almost causing them to fell down. “I asked you to do, and you will! I don’t want to hear any complaints!” He turned to Adam and threw him to the wall, scaring the shit out of him. “You, are going to fuck him harder than you ever did to anyone, either until your penis hurt or I decide it’s good enough. Got it?”

“Y-yes.” He shook his head violently, panting. He didn’t want Valentino to hit him like he did last week. Or him to lock him in his room for five days and give him water out of a dog bowl just so he wouldn’t die of thirst.

“And you,” He kept the chain on Adam’s neck, dragging him but he turned to Angel. “You are going to be under him for the next hour, or even for the following one if I think you aren’t moaning enough. Or you want me to make you do so?”

“Okay, Val.” Angel too looked panicked.

“Glad that we came to an agreement.” He chuckled and let go of them both. “Now collect yourselves! We have a looong shot to make!” He left Adam’s room as if he did nothing to them.

Adam looked at the spider demon. He couldn't help but feel sad towards him. No, it was more than just feeling sad. It was empathy.

He shook his head and tried to keep his old self.

“Get up, cunt. Let’s get this over with.”

—Continuing where we left off on the last chapter—

“Ungh..” Adam blinked slowly and held his head. There were stars dancing in front of his eyes. This was the last one right? He thought so. He hoped so.

“We’re done for today!” He heard someone shout behind him and a title on his mask. “LOCK: OPEN”. Good. Now he could go to his room and get dressed and get the thing on his fucking head off. He thought to himself. He took a few steps before he almost fell down, but a blurry pink figure hold him by his waist.

“Woah woah woah, you good there?” Angel said, looking concerned.

“Everything hurts…” He mumbled as he struggled to open the lock of his mask.

“Come here.” He helped him to get to his own room and sat him down. Luckily there wasn’t any Valentinos on sight.

“Can you..?” He dazedly pointed the lock of his mask.

“Sure.” He pressed the Voxtech button on the left to close the mask permanently, opened the buttons on the behind of it and took it off. There was Adam’s super tired face. There were bags under his eyes and his hair was messed up. How the fuck was his little beard was tangled?

“Mhhhh..” He groaned and looked around. “Where are we?”

“My room. Want me to get you somethin?”

“You’re the best Angel.”

Angel get up and went to his own bar of alcohol. There was only one. Of course, he was tired as fuck too, but he guessed today did serious damage to his friend. He had mentioned Val ordered him to film two different movies that included the fair use of his wings and he knew how much he hated people to touch them. “They are pretty banging, I know. But they are too fucking sensitive.” He felt anger as he thought of what he said. Oh, just what would he do to that motherfucker if he had the chance.

He turned back to Adam with the booze bottle on his hand. The demon’s head was in his hands.

“Here, I have this. Do you think you can walk?”

“Yeah yeah, I’m good.” He took the bottle and drank it down. Almost in one shot. He wiped his mouth, then flapped his wings lightly in order to bring them some comfort. “How ‘bout you? I bet he made you get fucked by three guys at once.”

“Three? Don’t be ridiculous. It was five.”

“Do you think this will ever come to an end?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Me neither. Lets go.”

“We’re still in our robes.”

“Right. I forgot.” He stretched. “Meet on the outside?”

“Yup.”

“See ya.” He walked away to his room to get dressed. When he was done, he got up and walked to the entrance. Good thing world decided not to spin anymore.

ITS HERE!

Would you believe if I said I worked on this for hours? And still not had enough?

Also, I know Adam definitely bottoms men, but Val just markets him as a ‘top bad boy’ and makes his and Angel’s movies a stereotypical gay porn in order to answer the pleadings of horny middle aged women

It’ll continue. Seriously, you would not believe me if I told you how much shit I have for this AU.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin angel dust #hazbin hotel valentino #hazbin valentino #hazbin hotel au #holydust #anyone get the referance?

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coffin-hopping · 1 month

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hopping on here to say sum about this beef again because I am so annoyed rn😭 this isn’t even rlly about the beef but about the way y’all treat rap as a genre.

so I know I’m not the first one to say sum about this topic, but it’s the way it goes over y’alls heads is just infuriating.

If I may over share, I’m a Mexican kid who grew up with rap, like I had rap playing in my house since I was a baby, I listened to rap with my friends, I had rap during the worst times in my life. and it always stuck with me. rap is such an important genre to me and so many others and it sucks so fucking bad how much its straight up ignored or demonized. being a poc in like, any fandom is such an isolating experience because you just feel like NO ONE gets it like you do. I have noticed for literally YEARS how much it’s ignored within the music industry itself and society in general. especially fandom spaces.

I was so fucking excited when the kendrick vs drake beef got to tumblr because I FlNALLY felt like my communities were combining and this could form some further solidarity between fandom and the rap community, so these spaces could gradually become more diverse and open and inclusive

and then I saw that post where hbombguy responded to that tweet that said like “y’all don’t care about the kendrick vs drake situation until your favorite White Guy Video Essayist makes a video on it” and it is SO FUCKING TRUE. y’all don’t give a shit about poc’s opinions when it comes to ANYTHING but that’s a conversation none of y’all are ready to have. and then I go into the notes. It was filled with ppl going “omg literally me!! he’s so funny!!” ignoring the blatant ignorance they’re admitting to without even acknowledging it. that, or it’s just people going “erm I don’t care about this beef at all actually”

and if you, person reading this, are either of those people: shut up! please shut up! you do not get it! things like this in the rap community are a spectacle and they’re important in a way. I’m not gonna go into your fandom and tell you that whatever drama going on there just isn’t important or whatever the fuck. so if you don’t get it or don’t care, please for the love of god shut up and let our community have our discussions in peace.

#guys does this make sense #kendrick lamar #drake #kendrick vs drake #rays.forked.tongue #not writing

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albert-tsum · 3 months

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I just want to give my thoughts on the whole "Wesker preys on Rebecca due to the photo in RE2" rumors since it still seems to be relevant and discussed about? (atleast there are posts, asks and comments on Tumblr, Instagram and Pinterest and probably Tiktok and Twitter about that from this or last year)

Tl:dr I don't think he ever felt something for her* and if I'd be sure he preys on her I wouldn't have this tsum and account

Soo just a few reasons why I think so and information I came across when I was researching this, this post will be way too long but here we go

*if you have official canon information saying he is into her pls write me but I didn't come across smth like that (yet) and also feel free to inform me if my information are false

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

1) it's an *easter egg* most likely put in by the devs for the player to see and not meant to be canon information (you have to search the desk multiple times, I think that indicates it's an easter egg and not any canon information they want the player necessarily to know)

2) the RE devs love *fanservice*, just look at e.g. some outfits of their female characters, putting the device control on Jills chest etc so it's not unrealistic that they do that shit to Rebecca too even tho she's only 18

3) the picture was *undeveloped* so Wesker couldn't even know what the photo looked like, also there is no evidence or indication that he took the photo like some people assume, they simply could have placed a camera on or in his desk to but there isn't

4) it has smth like "new member/recruit" written on its back (and yeah it was kinda weirdly translated as "rising rookie" in RE2 but I think that meant the same as the japanese text) so it seems to be a official photo given to the STARS captains and showing her in (an official RPD) Basketball uniform would show that she's athletic, smth important for her job und the uniform is designed by Capcom bc as I said they love skimpy outfit fanservice stuff (also she is knowingly posing for the photo so it's not a creepy stalker pic made without her permission)

5) the desk is *most likely shared with Enrico Marini* who is the actual captain of BRAVO team, the team Rebecca is a member of and not ALPHA team which was lead by Wesker

6) also some canon stuff about the interactions of Wesker and Rebecca:

Well, the only canon interaction between them has Wesker shooting her without hesitation, if they wanted him to be into her they could simply having him try to abduct her and showing her the tyrant in RE1 remake to impress her but no he doesn't care about her and is focused on Chris

(Also I saw some fanart, posts etc where they depict Rebecca being the fav of STARS Wesker while hating Chris which is bs bc he rarely knew Rebecca since she just joined a short time before the mansion incident and Wesker compliments Chris, saying he is his best man and is proud of him)

7) also in RE0 when he and Birkin are watching Rebecca and Billy they could simply put a creepy line from Wesker about her but he is just neutral about her

Also there is no notion that he tried to come after her post RE1 or to observe or abduct her

Sooo, sorry for bringing that topic back, maybe I'll delete this later because it's unnecessary but I just felt like writing that

PS: I am fully aware that Wesker is a horrible human being and it's understandable to hate him but that doesn't automatically mean he's a sexual predator

#albert wesker #chris redfield #resident evil #biohazard #rebecca chambers #resident evil wesker #resident evil 2 #resident evil 2 remake #william birkin

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girlreblogger · 3 months

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also to add to my previous post, when i say blk yn go through crazy situations im exaggerating but i mean (“cause me personally!!!!!!!!!!!”) allowing the character to be treated in certain manner and be put in “awkward” positions. i also want to say that the “situations” seem unfulfilling like i wanted to say in the first place.

because of the unsavory situations she is put in she legit has to have characteristics that are straight up unnecessary if the wellbeing of her character was prevalent. and i have to say that because of blk yn stories that it applies to. (and no ian talking abt how ppl be complaining abt yn being “ghetto” 😒)

drama, comfort, or for fun, is cool and dandy but it’s the same type of thing and i’m not tryna come for the plug stories like don’t nbgaf like omg i’m so tired of hearing bout them freaking stories.

to the ppl who still decide to ignore how damaging fr CERTAIN! blk yn fics y’all remind me of the ppl who support tyler perry movies simply because it’s for entertainment and “he’s telling a story” (that not everyone has)

yep. those things are true but an impact worse than good is being produced. like bffr.

and i feel conflicted by even saying that because some ppl obviously genuinely relate or find comfort in those stories but at what cost. like is comfort worth change and progression?

me rn:

some ppl just really don’t gaf and don’t care to want better. please don’t let the ppl who don’t gaf sway you. for the ppl who do, reblog nice fics or write. blow them up so other blk girls can find them. we deserve it.

there are so many blk fics where yn is not going through those things and if there is “drama” is solved or there’s a healthy resolve. (there’s so many blk writers who need to be publishing books fuck tumblr or ao3 and tryna get reblogs. with all that talent girl MAKE SOME MONEYYYY! YALL STUFF BE GOOD.)

i’m dead serious. why haven’t you thought abt it.

but yeah. it is what it is we have to put more work in to change as people in general. but i really just want my ppl to grow. ppl find comfort in fics for a reason. i really think a good balance of what everyone is looking for and needs should be found. i know ppl gonna feel like ppl telling them what to do but they prolly the ones who don’t want the change for wtv.. reason… ahem..

ppl feeling hit by what i said:

there’s obviously a problem and as a ppl! why can’t we just fix it. like at least try.

side note:

there’s so many ways to get drama. also the smut after arguing piss me off this is off topic cause it applies to a lot of ppl who make fics but like damn. y’all ain’t gon talk it out. and it be the most weird arguments and stuff and you wanna squeeze lemons after that???

idk that annoys me like everyyyy time? and i think smut after arguments can be well written but ….

anyways the blk ff community to damn big for us to be sitting here starving acting like we don’t have food in the refrigerator to make something.

get it together yall. youn want what’s in the refrigerator go get your keys and buy something.

i’m tired of this shit that’s why so many blk writers stop writing or ppl stop reading because it’s too much going on all for some damn fake characters we wanna imagine ourselves with.

and i know for some ppl it’s abt the followers and all that which i mean to each is own i mean

sigh i was tryna be proper and cordial but i really want better for us but it’s so many ppl who go too far or do too little. and some are so sheep that they go with someone else’s opinion too. you know you tired of all the toxic fics say sumn. you know you tired of ppl constantly bringing up yn being ghetto for no reason (that shit piss me off so bad i can’t. they be so close but so farr) say sumn.

me after thinking someone finna bring up how unnecessary struggle love/toxic/extra smutty blk fics are but they end up just complaining abt yn using aave:

anyways i’m ranting. i wanted to say what i felt.

muah

#x black reader #x black reader fluff #black reader #x black fem reader #anime x black!reader #black fanfiction #aot x black reader #jjk x black reader #connie x black reader #x fem black reader #aot x black y/n #eren x black fem!reader #jjk x black y/n #eren x black reader #black yn #i love using gifs theyre so fun🤭#i said what i said again

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ramayantika · 1 month

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Told my mumma about hostel life, all the gossip and esp about this one room mate who kinda gives me backhanded compliments.

Well it's tumblr i will overshare lol. Here you go.

1. So I had edited a reel for my family trip and there was a clip where I was laying on the bed and my hair was open. It was windy so my hair was flying a little and it looked very good, like those old heroines leaving hair open with the wind. This room mate, we will call her Pinki, she saw it and said: Yeh tu hai? Tu kabse itni sundar dikhne lagi?

2. And then one point when I was new to everyone, I decided to share my writings with her because I found out she writes too, only for her to say: Yeh tune likha hai? Tu itna acha likh sakti hai? Kabse? Woman could simply smile or say acha hai ya jo bolna hai bolke jati bc aise kon bolta hai.

3. I have acne. Hormonal hai and periods ke 1 week pehle I breakout more baki time small pimples and open pores. And many a times she will come and tell me tu doctor ko dikha na. Yeh red kya hai? Oh naya pimple. Yeh kaise hua? Tera itna kyu hai? And believe me, my 6th grader self would have cried, but now I actually don't care about acne much. Meri mumma ka bhi same tha and so is mine. Her skin cleared up in 20s so she told me thoda wait karo apne aap ho jayega and I am pretty confident in my looks actually.

4. So I generally don't like much people on my class. Boys are shit with their misogynistic minds and well the girls are nice, decent enough but even there there is a whole different thing going around. Anyway, so in class, there was a public speaking opportunity, I grabbed it. The whole class got shocked about it because oooh the quiet girl in the class can speak. Many came up to compliment me. But Miss Pinki decided to give her intro while throwing shade over my activities. Like me living by a planned google calendar, me prioritising my dance and studies because acc to her college life mein mauj masti = gossip, pranks and outings. Bc sabke alag tareeke hote hai mazak masti karne ka. Then she decided to compare my lifestyle vs hers in her intro and God the way I felt embarrassed, partially for myself and the remaining for her

5. Tends to interrupt me when I am talking to someone. Another sweet friend of mine asked if all was good with my bf because she hadn't talked to me much because she is in a different branch. I was about to anwer when Miss Pinki decides to say kuch acha nahi chal raha bass durr se hi acha lagta hai. Mera toh jo haal hai puch mat.

7. One time I was teaching a friend about an app which I had taught to Pinki too. Pinki after gossiping with the boys hostel (now that's a whole different tea and our girl is delusional) decides to interrupt me halfway, takes away the laptop and then continues teaching her as if I am fucking invisible.

In conclusion, mumma told me that you focus on studies and dancing. Go with the other girls and since you have made new friends with the dance society too, meet up with them too.

#samridhi speaks

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justagalwhowrites · 10 months

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Yearling - Ch. 3: Noise

You start getting to know Jackson - and yourself. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-2 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence. Attempted SA (not completed). No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only

Length: 6.5k

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Electricity had a sound.

You’d never noticed it before but that had to be what it was. The buzzing.

It felt loud in the small room, a constant whine that made your ears ring. Everything here was loud, it was so fucking loud. The people on the street outside, the sound of the lights and the power humming in the walls, the tick of a clock in the corner.

Was the world always this fucking loud before? Were you just numb to it before?

You closed your eyes and crossed your arms tight over your body. You were still in that man’s coat. Your legs were freezing, feet numb. Your fingers were starting to defrost and they hurt but your stomach felt oddly numb. The wetness of your blood was there against your skin but the pain wasn’t there. It should be but it wasn’t. You didn’t know if that was good or bad.

“You’re a hard woman to keep track of.”

You jumped back, away from the voice, eyes flying open, arms flying out and hands groping for something - anything - you could use for a weapon.

“Woah, you’re OK,” there was a woman in front of you. She was older than you - you thought, anyway, you weren’t quite sure what year it was - and she had a gentle, kindly look to her. Her hands were up in front of her, empty except for a pen, a notepad tucked below her arm. “Not going to hurt you, you’re OK.”

That seemed like bullshit. Everything in this fucking town seemed like bullshit, none of it made any goddamn sense. Your eyes darted but there wasn’t much here. It reminded you of a doctor’s office waiting room. A few couches, a coffee table with some books and old magazines on it - the kind of magazines your mom would put out, not the ones she’d actually read, shit with short stories and pictures of landscapes in it. Nothing you could really use as a weapon. Your best hope would be running.

You should have just left when you had the fucking horse, you shouldn’t have listened to that man. It didn’t matter that he seemed strangely familiar and safe and beautiful you should have listened to your fucking gut and run, had you learned nothing since the outbreak? You don’t trust people, that’s how you get fucking killed or worse. People were dangerous, people were so fucking dangerous.

And now you were in a town full of them.

“Can you talk?” The woman asked, her brows raised, hands still up.

“Yes I can fuckin’ talk,” you kept backing up until you were flush with the wall behind you. God this was fucking stupid how had you been this goddamn stupid? “Do I look like a moron to you?”

“Absolutely not,” she said kindly. She was talking to you the way you talked with wild horses. Like she was trying to keep you from lashing out or taking off. “You just seem scared and like you’ve been through a lot. Sometimes people aren’t able or willing to talk after things like that and that’s OK.”

“I’m fine,” you snapped. “Just need to get out of here…”

“OK,” she said. “I can help you with that. Let me just take a look at where you’re bleeding and we can get you out of here, sound good?”

“Why.”

The woman frowned.

“Why what?”

“Why do you want to see where I’m bleedin’,” you asked. You were starting to feel the pain in your stomach. Your head was light, vision fuzzy on the edges. “What do you want with me?”

“Just want to help you,” she said. “Promise. If you don’t get in bed soon I’m guessing you’re not going to have much say in the matter, you’d lost a lot of blood when you came in and you’re losing more. You’re going to pass out if you’re not careful. So just let me help you, that’s all I want to do.”

She was right. You knew enough about keeping yourself alive that you knew when you were close to passing out and you weren’t far off from it. You couldn’t stay on your feet much longer, not without help.

Help this woman was apparently offering. For whatever fucking reason.

You tried to think of another option but your brain was fuzzy, too. Slow and sluggish, like working your way through the well worn pathways of survival in your head suddenly required swimming through Jell-o.

But you wouldn’t survive if you tried to run now. Even if no one ran you down, you’d pass out in the snow and freeze in hours at best. That’s assuming no one else got their hands on you first. It was better to give in to whatever these people wanted and escape when you were stronger. Then you’d have a chance at making it. You’d stolen a horse once, you could do it again. And you doubted anything they were going to do to you here was going to be any worse than other shit you’d managed to live through.

“You can look,” you said, relaxing back from the wall a bit so you were no longer clinging to the wood.

“Thank you,” she smiled a little. “Come with me? It’ll be easier if you’re in my exam room. I promise, I’m not going to hurt you.”

You didn’t trust that. You couldn’t afford to trust that.

But she was probably in her late 60s, smaller than you and definitely weaker. Even injured, you could overpower her. That made it better.

You didn’t say anything, you just nodded and followed behind her a small room with a padded table in the middle. She set out a step stool and patted the end of it.

“Can you hop on up for me and lie back?” She asked. You kept your eye on her as you obeyed. You might be in here with this woman but you weren’t about to turn your back on her. The table was cold on your bare legs and you found yourself oddly thankful to the man who’d given you his jacket. You didn’t understand that either. “Just going to…”

The woman opened the front of the coat and lifted the shirt, making you stiffen. She gingerly touched near your injuries and you tried not to flinch.

“You pushed it too hard, honey,” she said, smiling a little sadly at you. “I’m going to need to repack these and you need to actually take it easy for a while, OK?”

You looked back toward the ceiling and didn’t respond.

“Let me know if something I do hurts too much, we can take a break,” she said, going to a cabinet and coming back with a tray of shiny medical equipment. She set to work around your stomach and your fingers dug into the cuffs of the man’s coat, the wool and leather of it comforting to the touch. “Want to tell me your name? I’m Carol Livingston, the doctor here in Jackson…”

“What do you want my name for?” You clenched your jaw as you felt her pull something out of you. “What was that?”

“Gauze,” she held up a wad of bloody fabric in a pair of tiny tongs. “Can’t stitch up a gunshot wound, had to try and make sure we’d cut off the source of major bleeding and then pack it for a bit while it healed. If you don’t do things like climb out a window and take off on a horse, it’s usually pretty effective. And I’d like your name so I know what to call you. Start a file for you since you’re here now, all that.”

“A file?” You hissed it as she pulls more gauze from you.

“Sorry honey,” she said. “Almost done. And yes, a file. You’re old enough, you remember before, you must have gone to some doctors, they had records. Going to flush this with water now, stay still for me, OK?”

“I remember before,” you gritted your teeth and tried to think about something besides what she was doing to you.

“It’s important to have a medical history,” she said, sounding a little distracted. “And to keep track we need a name. Going to put more gauze in now, almost done…”

It had been years since anyone knew your name. You hadn’t given it to anyone in decades.

The last time had been 2003. September 27, 2003, to be precise.

Just a few days into the outbreak and you were already disoriented and uncertain about how much time had passed. But the first day was easy to remember. You rode Nike until she was foaming at the mouth, pushing her far harder than you should have. But you didn’t have another choice.

You stopped at a ranch, one that seemed quiet and still now. There were bodies, though. Flies were on them, gaping wounds in their chests and stomachs. One had a bite at their neck like Justin did.

The ranch was big, one you recognized from the summer tourist season and taking rich people who wanted to pretend they were roughing it on trail rides. There should have been a lot of people here but they were gone.

You were still quiet, guiding Nike slowly to the paddock, eyes wide open as you waited for someone - something - to come for you. Nothing did.

You got off Nike for the first time since you’d left home, opening the gate and letting her in. The trough was dry and a horse in the corner lifted its head from where it was grazing to look at you, not paying you much mind. You looked around for a moment and found a water spigot and refilled the trough before pulling the gun from the waistband of your panties. The metal had all but carved a spot in your skin from where you’d been bent over it, clinging to Nike as you fled the chaos and the death. You crept toward the bunkhouse, so like the ones you’d fled hours before, when it was still dark.

Pickings were slim when it came to clothes. You were the only woman rancher where you’d come from and there had been no women working on your parents’ ranch when you were a girl. You checked a few rooms at the bunk house before you spotted the main house through a window. If there was a woman living here - your best shot at finding pants and boots that fit - it would be there.

You crept over the open land, gun in front of you and aimed at the ground, the sharpness of the earth snagging on your feet. The main door to the house was open and the table in the entry was overturned, broken glass from what looked like was once a bowl scattered across the ground. You tiptoed around it, hoping you didn’t cut your feet too badly, and went upstairs, whole body tense.

It didn’t take long to find the bedrooms. There was a teenaged girl living here, one who looked like she was a bit younger than you judging by the posters on the wall and the canopy over her bed, but not much smaller than you. You raided her closet, focusing on things that could be a little tight but would still work - t-shirts and sweatpants. You emptied a backpack that had been tossed in the corner onto her bed and started packing.

You found the master bedroom next. Thankfully, the rancher was married and his wife was closer to your size than his daughter. Another blessing, this rancher’s wife actually dressed like she lived on a damn ranch unlike your own mother. Her Levis were the same size you wore but a different cut than you usually went for. Her shirts would just about fit, and she had bras that were only a cup size off from your own. You got changed quickly and grabbed extras of everything. Her boots were a size too big, so you grabbed a few pairs of thick socks and layered them before putting them on. Being dressed again was a comfort. You hadn’t realized how vulnerable you’d felt because you’d been half naked, not just because you’d been attacked and everyone seemed to be losing their humanity.

Next was the kitchen. You grabbed what non-perishables you could fit in the pack - a stash of Poptarts, cans of chili and soup - and gorged yourself on what was left in the fridge. You chugged sodas and peeled hard boiled eggs so fast that you knew you’d eaten some shell, too. You devoured the pears in the basket on the counter and added the apples to your bag before finding a canteen and filling it with water. There was a bottle of Advil in the pantry and you grabbed that, too. You tried turning on the TV in the living room, seeing if there was a news network that had information, but all that was being broadcast was an emergency alert signal, the sound so loud it made your ears ring. It said to stay inside. Like hell you were doing that.

Overly full and no longer half naked, you made your way back toward the barn to look for tack for Nike. Once she’d had a rest, you planned to get underway again. It might be quiet now but you weren’t counting on it to stay that way. You’d feel better with some distance, at least until all this shit - whatever it was - got figured out.

Once you were at the barn, you started at the gun safe. Lucky for you, someone had left the door hanging open in the chaos of whatever the fuck had happened the night before. There was just one weapon left - a shot gun - and some ammo. You grabbed all of it and put the ammunition and the handgun into a saddle pack you’d grabbed from the tack room. You loaded the shotgun and tucked it under your arm before you moved on.

You’d just found a saddle that would work well for both you and Nike when you heard the door creak. You spun, whipping the shotgun around into your grip, aiming it at the man standing in the doorway. He threw his hands up and froze.

“Woah there little girl,” he said. You narrowed your eyes. “Not here to cause you any trouble…”

“Then get the fuck out,” you said. “Shot two other men today, don’t mind makin’ you the third.”

“You’re the one in my barn,” he said, still in the door, hands still up. “Takin’ my shit…”

“This ain’t your ranch,” you looked him up and down. There hadn’t been a bedroom for a young man upstairs and he wasn’t old enough to have a teenaged daughter.

“No but I work here,” he said. “Think I’m the last one left. Think that makes it mine. You’re not gonna lose your mind on me like everyone else here did, right?”

“No,” you snapped. “Are you?”

“Don’t think so,” he said. “But I don’t think they did, either.”

You lowered your gun slowly, still watching him. He lowered his hands but stayed by the door.

“That your horse out there?” He asked. “The filly?”

“She’s mine,” you said. “Couldn’t get her tack before I left, wasn’t safe.”

“You can take that,” he said, nodding to the saddle that you’d dropped in your haste to defend yourself from him. “Reins, bit and bridle, too. Whatever else you want… She broke enough for you to ride though?”

You scoffed.

“She’s dumb broke but I’m the one who got her there,” your fingers twitched on the gun. “Don’t need you fuckin’ her up for me.”

“Sorry,” he said quickly. “Just never seen a girl rancher before, let alone one who breaks horses…”

“I’ve been breakin’ horses since I was 13,” you stuck your chin out, defensive. “And I’m a champion bronc rider, too, so I can promise I can stay on the back of an unbroken horse a lot longer than you.”

“Alright, alright,” he smiled a little. “Not tryin’ to call your expertise into question. I’m Leo, what’s your name?”

You clenched your jaw for a second. Part of you was telling you to run, even if you didn’t shoot him, at least get the fuck away from him.

But you were also alone. You’d never been alone this long before. You’d moved straight from your parents house into the bunkhouse. You had your own room but there was always someone just on the other side of the wall, always someone in the barn, always someone else working with a horse or repairing a fence or mucking a stall. You’d never been truly alone, not like this. If this guy hadn’t become an inhuman monster, maybe he never would. Maybe you didn’t have to be alone.

You gave him your name. He stepped closer.

“Nice to meet you,” he said. “Like I said, there’s no one else here. Everyone else is dead. Don’t think there’s anyone but you and me for miles. Stay. For a bit. You and I both know your mount needs some rest, not sure where you pushed her from but you pushed her.”

“You would too if you were in my shoes,” you snapped and then sighed. “But she could use the rest…”

“I’m just glad to know I ain’t the only person left who wasn’t some flesh eating monster,” he laughed once. “It’ll be good. Promise.”

It was good, for a day. Nike rested. You and Leo went through all the rooms of the bunkhouse and the main house, taking inventory. You figured the two of you could hold out there for weeks at least while the rest of the world got its shit together. Plenty of time for things to calm down and some new kind of normal set in. You could figure it out from there.

Your second night there, Leo raided the liquor cabinet at the main house. You recognized the labels from your dad’s own stash, the thick amber liquid in heavy crystal glasses as much a part of his identity as his belt or his hat. Leo poured you a cup and you got drunk around a fire, not far from the horses, the stars bright overhead.

It felt good. You liked it. Until Leo tried to kiss you.

“No,” you shoved him back, twisting your body so you could put your boot in his chest if you needed to. “Don’t fuckin’ touch me.”

“C’mon baby,” he leaned closer but stopped when you gave him a warning look. “You really gonna tell me that I might be the last man on Earth and you’re turnin’ me down?”

“Could be the last man in the universe and I couldn’t give less of a shit,” you snapped. “If that’s what you want, I’m leavin’.”

You got up to go but his arms flew out, his eyes wide.

“No, please!” He was begging, pleading. “Don’t go, please don’t go. I don’t want to be on my own here, I’m sorry I did that, won’t happen again…”

You looked at him for a moment, eyes narrowed. But he looked sorry. He sounded sorry. And you didn’t want to be alone, either.

“It better fuckin’ not,” you said, sitting down on the ground again, putting more distance between the two of you.

He kept his hands to himself until you woke up with his weight on top of you. You could feel him through your jeans, your wrists in his hands holding you to the ground, his mouth by your ear as he moaned your name.

You shrieked, making him jump, lifting his head enough that you could slam your forehead into his nose. It crushed beneath your skull and he yelped, his hands leaving your wrists and flying to his face as he collapsed next to you. You scrambled away from him, going for the saddlebag and grabbing the pistol from inside it. You aimed it at him, standing over him as he sobbed, holding his face, blood on his fingers.

“What the fuck?” He was crying, his face red. “Why’d you do that?”

His voice was thick.

“Told you not to fucking touch me,” you snapped, panting for breath. Your heart was pounding, you could hear your blood in your ears. You were shockingly sober after all the whiskey you’d had earlier in the night. You aimed the gun at his leg and shot him in the thigh. He screamed. “Lucky I don’t fucking kill you.”

You grabbed the backpack and tack for Nike, hauling it outside. You kept the gun easily accessible as you saddled her up before going back into the barn for one last check for what you needed. Leo was still on the ground, clutching his leg. You sighed and got the first aid kit off the wall, throwing it at him, before you got the shot gun and some rope from the wall. You tucked the pistol into your jeans, slung the rope on your arm and aimed the shotgun at him as you made your way to the paddock again.

“I ever see you again, I will shoot you in the head,” you said. “Understand?”

There was a trail of blood from his nose over his mouth, his chin, staining his shirt.

“You’re gonna die on your own out there,” he snarled. “And you’re gonna fuckin’ deserve it.”

“Better than living here with you,” you said, leaving him alone in the barn. You opened the gate and led Nike out before closing it and mounting up, keeping the shotgun accessible.

“C’mon girl,” you gave her ribs a squeeze as you pointed her in the direction of the mountains, away from the place you’d come from. “You and me, let’s go.”

It was the last time you’d told someone your name. It was the last time you’d heard your name said by anyone who wasn’t you. It felt dangerous, sharing it, but you sometimes said it to yourself the first few years of the outbreak. First, middle, last. Just to make sure it didn’t fade into nothing.

You hadn’t done that in years.

But you did then, you said all three to the doctor as she gently put gauze into your body to soak up your blood.

“See, not so bad to share is it?” She said, smiling gently. She got out more gauze and medical tape and put it over your wounds. “There, you’re all set. Want to see?”

You nodded and she helped you sit up and got a mirror from a cupboard, holding it in front of your stomach so you could see without needing to bend as much.

“You were shot twice,” she said, pointing to the spots covered in clean, white gauze. “We were able to make the worst of the bleeding stop and pull the bullets out without opening you up more, which is good. You have some other bumps and bruises but we’re pretty sure there’s no internal bleeding, which was a concern, and no broken bones that we could find evidence of. You’re just still down a lot of blood, hon, so you have to take it easy, OK?”

Being shot sounded familiar. You knew there was a stretch of time you were missing. You remembered running, Cody helping you get out. You’d been on the run for three days - you thought, anyway - before they caught up with you, the fresh snow giving you away. You didn’t remember much after that. There was pain and red snow and something soft and warm that smelled woodsy and wild, like the coat you still had on.

There was a knock at the door and you jumped, eyes going wide. The doctor smiled a little and tugged your shirt back down. You pulled the coat back tight around you.

“Come on in, Maria,” she called, keeping her eyes on you. A woman opened the door, a pile of clothes in her hand. She was about your age, you thought, and pretty. She smiled a little at you. “She’s all set with me but I’d like to keep her here overnight, make sure she hasn’t lost too much blood…”

“Sure thing, Carol,” Maria said.

“I’m going to leave you in Maria’s very capable hands,” Carol smiled. “You’re OK now, honey. You’re OK.”

She got up and left, closing the door softly behind her. You fought the urge to back away from the woman standing next to you now.

“Hi,” she smiled gently. “I’m Maria. I’m sure you have a lot of questions and I’m here to help you. First thing, you’re safe here. You don’t have to be afraid of me…”

“Not afraid,” you cut her off. “Just like knowing where I am and that I can leave when I want is all.”

“Well, you’re in Jackson, Wyoming,” she said.

You nodded slowly.

“What part of the state is that in?” You asked.

“Near the Idaho border, south of Yellowstone,” she replied. You nodded again. Not too far from where you’d been then. That was oddly relieving, knowing they hadn’t taken you that far. “And you can leave whenever you want. We’d just like you to not die when you do so we’d like it if you stayed with us for a little while, at least. You were picked up by one of our patrols a few days ago…”

“This a QZ?” You asked. “There are a lot of people here…”

“No,” she laughed a little. “No, we’re not a QZ. We’re a commune, just a few hundred people who have agreed to share the work and the benefits of living together as a community…”

“So what do you want with me?” You frowned. You still hadn’t gotten a straight answer to that, not one that made sense, anyway.

“Nothing at all,” she said. Her voice was so calm and even, you wanted to lean into it, to trust her. That alone made your chest tight. “Our patrol didn’t want you to die in the woods and we take care of the people who come here. You’re welcome to stay, if you want. We have houses, clothes, plenty of food. If you stay you’d have to pitch in but no more than anyone else.”

You narrowed your eyes at her and she laughed.

“You don’t look like you believe me.”

“I can’t say I do,” you said. “That doesn’t… people don’t just do that shit, especially not now.”

She smiled, a little sadly.

“You were on your own for a while out there, I’m guessing,” she said. She was mostly right so you nodded. “We are an unusual place, I’ll admit that. But we’re good people and we’re proud of what we’ve built here. We won’t hold you prisoner and if you want to go, you can go. But I think you should at least consider sticking around. People aren’t all bad, you just have to find the right ones.”

“And you think I’m one of the right ones,” you said, still skeptical.

She shrugged.

“I don’t know yet,” she replied. “But honestly, anyone who tries as hard to live as you did is a good person to have around. And we have plenty of room here. May as well have you take up some of it.”

You nodded slowly.

“To start, let’s get you into something that isn’t bloody and a little warmer,” she said, holding out a small pile of clothes. “When was the last time you ate something?”

“I’m not sure,” you said. “Don’t know how long I was running or how long I was out.”

Maria nodded.

“I’ll get you something small to start, see how you do,” she said. “In a day or two, when Carol says you’re up for it, I’ll give you the tour, get you settled into a house. Sound good?” You nodded. “I’ll leave you to it. Try not to hurt yourself getting changed, I’d rather not get on Carol’s bad side.”

You smiled a little and waited for her to leave before you delicately shrugged out of the coat and peeled off the bloody shirt. She’d brought you a long sleeved t-shirt this time, a little oversized and pale blue. The pants were plaid, the same color blue in part of the pattern. You lay down to slide the shorts off and pull on the clean underwear and pants Maria had brought. Sitting back up took work but you were proud of yourself for getting there. You lifted the shirt and checked to make sure the gauze was still white, no signs of bleeding getting bad again. You shrugged back into the coat and were pulling on thick, wool socks when Maria came back, knocking once before opening the door with food in hand.

“We’re starting you slow, don’t want to push it according to Carol,” she said. “But I have some soup, half a sandwich, an apple and some water for you. Eat what you can, OK?” You nodded.

“Any questions for me right now?”

“When is it?” You asked. She looked at her watch but you cut her off. “Sorry, no, I mean what month is it?”

“November,” she said. “Early November, Thanksgiving is in three weeks.”

Thanksgiving. You’d all but forgotten about Thanksgiving.

“What year?” You asked, brows raised, fingernails digging into your leg.

“It’s 2025,” she said.

You tried to hide your surprise at that but it didn’t go well.

“What?” She asked.

“I’m younger than I thought I was,” you replied. It felt like you’d been with them for longer than that but apparently not. “Not that it really matters.”

“You can say you’re even younger if you want,” she smiled a little. “Beauty of the apocalypse, no one is going to check your birth certificate. Just be 22 forever.”

You laughed at that, hard enough that you felt the wounds at your stomach pull and you winced.

“Sorry,” she said. “I’ll try to not be too funny. Anything else?”

“Yeah,” you gripped the edge of the table. “Could you hand me that mirror? The one on the counter? I just… haven’t seen myself in a while.”

“Sure,” she smiled tightly again and handed you the mirror, face down, before heading for the door. “I’ll see you again soon, OK?”

You nodded and she closed the door behind her.

It only took a few seconds before you could hear what felt like everything again. The room was tinged pink, the sun setting outside, and the electricity was buzzing. You lifted the mirror slowly and held it in front of yourself with your eyes closed for a second before you took a deep breath and opened them.

Recognizing your own face was a shock. It seemed like, after everything, you should look different now. And part of you did. You were bruised and there was a cut on your cheek and you thought the signs of creases next to your eyes were more obvious now than they had been the last time you saw yourself. Your hair was starting to streak with gray. But your eyes were still your eyes. So were your teeth, your nose, your eyebrows. You were still you. You still looked like you. It was disorienting. It was comforting. You set the mirror down before you ate the food Maria brought you, suddenly starving but just a few bites feeling heavy in your empty stomach.

Eventually, Carol came back and brought you to the room you first woke up in. The bed had been made with fresh sheets.

“Here,” she smiled gently. “Why don’t I take that coat…”

“No,” you said quickly, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself. She frowned. “No, I… I want to hold onto it, if that’s OK.”

“Not going to try to run on us again are you?” She asked, brows drawn together. “Because…”

“No,” you cut her off. “I just… it’s warm, I like it. I want to keep it. For now.”

She looked at you, like she didn’t believe you. Which she shouldn’t. You didn’t want to keep it because you were cold or because you wanted to run. You wanted to keep it because it felt good. It smelled right. Your fingers tightened on the cuffs. You didn’t remember much about coming here the first time. All you really knew was because of this coat. The man had given it to you and when it settled over your body, the collar brushing your nose, the smell of it brought back a memory you didn’t know you had. One where you were warm and in a daze and swaying on the back of a horse with something broad and warm at your back. Safe. You liked safe. You needed the coat.

“OK,” she said. “If you need a bathroom, there’s one right through that door there. I’ll be right out here if you need anything.”

You waited until she closed the door before you crawled in bed. It was dark outside now but you knew it couldn’t be too late. Even so, you were exhausted, and you somehow felt safe enough to close your eyes and rest.

***

“That girl is not sticking around,” Maria said as Joel sat beside Tommy in the mess hall at dinner.

“Who isn’t?” He asked.

“That woman you brought in from outside,” she replied. “She is skittish as hell, seemed fucking terrified…”

“After seeing what she did to the men out there, we should be thankful she’s just skittish,” Joel said, starting in on his meatloaf.

“What’d she do?” She frowned, looking to her husband. Tommy winced, bouncing his son on his leg.

“Well, now, see, I didn’t want to worry you…”

“Tommy,” she said in a warning tone.

He sighed.

“Well we found the other guys first,” he said. “One was just shot, nothing bad…”

“OK…” she said slowly.

“The other,” he sighed. “Well she’d damn near scratched his face off with her bare hands.”

She startled back from him.

“You didn’t think this was an important piece of information for us to know before we offered her a place to stay with us?” She asked. “Before you brought her into our community?”

“Guy deserved it,” Joel said. Maria narrowed her eyes at him and he shrugged. “Well, he did. Did you look at her at all? Got the shit beat out of her. Looked like she’d been tied up, someone fuckin’ branded her….”

“Jesus,” Maria shook her head. “Can’t say I looked too close, no. Too busy trying to keep her from taking off on me.”

“Sure the fuckers we found deserved it,” Joel said. “We won’t give her a reason to do that to us so we’ll be fine…”

He couldn’t be sure of that, of course. He didn’t know you, not really. But he felt like he did. Looking at you, it felt like he knew you.

“Well it’s a moot point,” she said after a moment. “She’s taking off as soon as she’s able, mark my words. She’s terrified of this place.”

Joel didn’t bother to respond. He knew what that felt like, coming into a place like this when you were used to something so different. It had been scary for him and he’d come here of his own volition. He’d known someone here.

You were different. Of course you were terrified.

Tommy and Maria left to go back home before he did and Joel sat there, watching for Ellie to come in with her friends. She usually did, about half way through dinner. If she came in the right door, he’d sometimes hear her laugh. That was worth sitting there for a bit. More than worth sitting there for a bit. That girl, her life, her happiness were worth a lot of things. He could justify damn near anything for her.

But Ellie came in the door further from where he was sitting that night and he didn’t hear her laugh. She saw him watching her and shot him a glare as she crossed the mess hall. A warning message, of sorts.

“I’ll go back, but we’re done.”

That’s what she’d said to him. She’d meant it. And that was OK. She was alive so he could live with that. But at least this way he got to see her. Even if it was just for a second. Even if she hated him through it.

He was gone before Ellie and her friends were looking for a place to sit.

It was cold out, without his coat. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, thumbs hooked on his belt loops. Going home sounded lonely. Lonelier than usual. He didn’t want to go bother Tommy and Maria, they had enough going on with a toddler at home. Getting a drink at the Tipsy Bison sounded miserable.

There was one thing he felt like doing. It was just a bad idea. So Joel just walked for a bit, wandering aimlessly through the town, letting the cold bite at his exposed skin. But he kept finding himself back in front of the clinic, the light on in the front room.

It couldn’t hurt anything, right? Just… he could check. Just check.

Carol smiled when he opened the door slowly, the hinges creaking.

“I can take a look at that for you,” he said, closing the door behind him.

“Just a squeaky door,” she said. “Nothing much to worry about fixing. Can I do something for you?”

“No,” he shook his head for a second, looking at the ground and cupping the back of his neck before he could bring himself to look her in the eye again. “I just… was hoping to check up on the woman I brought in. Make sure she’s alright. You know.”

She smiled a little wider and shook her head once.

“She’ll be fine,” she replied. “Just keeping her here tonight because she lost a lot of blood. But, as you know, she was up and about plenty today. She just needs to give herself a chance to heal before she tries to crawl out a window and take off on a horse again.”

Joel laughed once at that.

“Yeah, I’d say so,” he said.

“I’m afraid I can’t give you your coat back, though,” she said. Joel frowned. “She’s still wearing it. Wouldn’t let me take it. I think you might need to go find a new one, Mr. Miller. I don’t think she’s giving it up.”

“Oh,” he said. “That’s fine she… she can keep it.”

He turned to leave before he stopped in the doorway.

“Don’t tell her I came by,” he said. “Don’t want to freak her out.”

“Sure,” she smiled a little. He nodded. “Have a good night, Joel.”

“You too.”

The night was still biting and cold but he felt a little better, walking home in it as he looked at the clinic window as he passed, the one he knew you were just on the other side of, wrapped in his coat because you didn’t want to give it back.

He was still warm when he got home.

Next Chapter

A/N: I'm so sorry this update has taken so long! I wanted to finish up Beskar Doll before I fully dedicated myself to Yearling and now I can settle into a comfortable writing space with this fic which I am so excited for.

Bambi has officially landed in Jackson and Joel has taken notice. I love that for him.

I'm also really enjoying this softer Joel compared to Lavender Joel. It's interesting to write the same character who is in such a different place in his emotional journey and I can't wait to explore both of them further! I hope you enjoy the ride as we do :)

I do have a taglist. Please comment below if you'd like to be added!

Thank you for reading! Love you!!

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust@ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost@beccerjune@mumma-moonchild@netonetoneto@mellymbee@purplelye@n7cje@flugazi@evyiione@randomhoex@aliengirl99

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #joel miller fanfiction #yearling

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