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thetriumphantpanda · 4 months

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baby, it's cold outside | joel miller

Summary | Patrolling with Joel is always easy, he's your friend after all, but when a snow storm forces you to stop halfway, you're both faced with feelings that you'd both rather ignore, but with nothing but time, talking about them is your only option.

Word Count | 4.2k

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Warnings | Explicit 18+. A snow storm and a cabin with a nice, warm fireplace. Unspecified age gap. Explicit smut - unprotected PiV (don't do this, pls be smart), oral sex (F), size kink if you squint, dirty talk, two idiots who love each other, some negative feelings towards the holidays but nothing else I can think of!

Authors Note | A huge thank you to the wonderful @hellishjoel for setting the 12 days of Pedro up and asking me to take part - this was so much fun to put together and I hope you all love it as much as I do!

12 Days of Pedro Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Thank you to the wonderful @saradika for the divider!

Despite having lived in Wyoming for years now, the winters were still a surprise to you. Icy cold winds, frosted windows every morning, thick downfalls of snow almost daily and a struggle to get warm no matter how many layers you wore. Some would call it picturesque, and you suppose you could see it, everywhere you turned in Jackson at this time of year, even though it was against the backdrop of the end of the world, it looked like it could adorn the cover of any Christmas card or be the setting for any Christmas movie. It didn’t matter, because you hated it either way.

When the tree went up in the centre of town, and the lights got switched on, it only served to remind you how solitary you were. How you existed mainly entirely on your own. No family, barely any friends, always the talk of the gaggle of girls who would whisper to each other whenever you passed and start laughing to each other, or the boys who always wondered why instead of hanging around with people your own age, you opted to spend it alone, or with someone who was pushing sixty.

Because if there was a single person in this Godforsaken town that you could class as a friend, it was Joel Miller. Quiet, closed off, unapproachable until you chipped away at his hard exterior, just like you in so many ways, it was actually sickening really. You liked Joel, ever since Tommy had put you two together for patrols when Maria had given birth, it was like you’d found someone who finally understood your need to be alone.

Patrolling outside the walls gave you peace, let you leave your loneliness behind for a while, just you and the ground beneath your boots, the feeling that you were doing something wrong, were less of a person because of your lack of friends and relationships left behind at the gate. You’d proven yourself capable more than enough times for Tommy to realise you were an asset. You’d saved more than enough people with your good aim and quick trigger finger, been ruthless in getting rid of raiders who strayed too close to your safe haven, and he knew your need for solitude, which is why he trusted you on these longer routes, on the more complicated patrol rotations, the ones that would get you out of Jackson for a week.

You surmise that’s probably why he chose to pair you up with Joel. In the two years you’d patrolled together, you’d come to realise that he needed that solitude just as much as you did. A way to leave behind being a father at the gate and remind himself of exactly who he was before. Out here, walking side-by-side next to you, he wasn’t Ellie’s dad, he wasn’t the man who still woke up in cold sweats remembering the heavy weight of his dead daughter in his arms, or that man who had lost almost everyone he’d ever cared for along the way, he was just Joel. Joel, who was more comfortable cradling a rifle in his arms than he was his infant nephew. Joel, who preferred comfortable silence instead of filling the quiet with talk. Joel, who, even when you suspected he hated you at the start, would have protected you to the death no matter what.

You were similar, far more than you’d like to admit, and as the weeks and months had drawn on, and you’d moved into being more comfortable with each other, he really was one of those things you’d wanted for so long. A friend. Someone to rely on, someone to drink with at the end of a hard patrol route, someone who made sure you ate when it was the last thing on your mind, someone who fixed the hole in your roof and put new planks of wood on your porch when you almost fell through it one day, someone who confided in you about how hard he found being a parent again, someone who opened up to you when things started to sour with Ellie. A friend.

He was also someone, in the last six months, that you suspected wanted to be more than your friend. It had started small, with things any good friend would do. He would offer you his arm when you walked during the winter so you wouldn’t slip, started packing double lunch so he knew you’d eat when you’d go out together, but then it was the hand on the small of your back through town, or the way he’d sit close to you in the bar, knees knocking against yours just so he could put a hand on your knee to apologise for getting too close.

And it’s not like you didn’t see that in him either. For a man who was almost sixty, he was incredibly handsome, able to do unspeakable things on patrol that neither of you would talk about to anyone else, strong in a way you didn’t think you’d ever seen before. Sure, his hearing was shot in one ear, his middle soft with age, and his hair and beard peppered with grey hair, but Joel Miller was a sight.

But, what if you’d read his signals wrong? What if his kindness and that warm hand on your knee was just him being a Southern gentleman? You throw yourself at him and he doesn’t feel the same, what happens then? You lose one of the very few friends you’ve ever had, and that’s somehow worse than knowing you’ll never know what the feel of his skin is like under your touch or what it sounds like when he moans your name for you.

The patrol route is brutal this day, wind and snow making it hard to see anything in front of you. You and Joel had to shout loudly to each other in order to hear anything, so when you stumble across the cabin, halfway through the route, you both decide that it’s best to head inside, get warm and wait out the worst of the storm before carrying on. Safer that way, is what Joel said, but you think it’s got more to do with the cold on his joints than the safety. Even at your younger age, your bones were certainly aching.

The wind whips a flurry of snow into the abandoned cabin when Joel pushes the door open, ushering you inside quickly, shutting the door quickly behind the two of you before more snow can follow you in. He sets his rifle down near the door and his backpack on the worn, moth-eaten couch, kneeling in front of the fireplace.

This particular cabin is a regular stop on this patrol route, an agreement between the residents of Jackson who frequent it to keep it stocked with firewood during the cold season. You silently note to thank whoever had patrolled before you for stacking the fireplace so all Joel really needs to do is set fire to the scrunched paper dotted through the wood to get the warmth of the fire flooding the small front room.

“Reckon we’re here for the long run,” Joel grumbles, holding flat palms up to the flames to warm his hands, “Ain’t no way we’re walking anywhere in that.”

And he’s right, the light of the day is fading fast and even in daylight, the blizzard had been a nightmare to traverse. It’s not like you’re wanting to rush back though, you sometimes wish you could pack everything up and come out here for good, live in your solitude until the end of your days, but for now, just a few more nights away from the place that reminds you just how alone you are will do.

You settle down on the couch, trying to burrow further into the coat around your body, not bothering to take your gloves or your hat off until the flames of the fire are stronger.

“Come sit closer,” Joel murmurs, motioning with his hand for you to sit on the floor next to him, “Warm up a little.”

You slip down from the couch and scoot along the floor until you’re sat next to him. Joel reaches over and takes hold of your wrist, gently pulling off your glove, “They’re damp,” He states, reaching for your other hand to do the same, “Take your coat off too, you’ll get a chill otherwise.”

Working to unzip the front to pull it off, whilst Joel throws an extra few pieces of wood on the fire, you settle a little bit closer to the flames, feeling the warmth start to seep through your other layers. He stands, taking your coat and his, hanging them on either end of the fireplace to dry out a little, then he sits back down next to you, although a little closer than he had been before, so close that you can feel the heat of his body next to you.

You take a moment to steal a look up at him, his body larger than yours, towering a little next to you, but in the glow of the flames he’s fucking breathtaking. You get lost in tracing his jaw and the hook of his nose with your eyes that he’s turning his head to face you before you can turn away from him. He catches you with that small smile that is saved only for his family normally, Ellie, Tommy, sometimes Maria, and now, more often, you. So you smile back at him, let the warmth lick through your body, and before you realise it, he’s leaning his, broad shoulders bumping yours as his face gets closer, and God, it would be so easy to let him do it, move your face towards him, press your lips to his and burn it all to hell, but as he inches closer, that pit is opening in your stomach, bubbling anxiety and dread, so as he inches closer, you have to stop him.

You bring one of your fingers up to press against his lips gently, watching as he purses them against your touch a little, but then his eyes open when you speak, so softly, so quietly that he almost missed your plea, “Please don’t.”

It’s like you’ve burnt him with the way he not only drags his face from you, but his whole body, putting so much distance between the two of you that you almost cry. He clears his throat, running his hand over his face, “Right,” He mumbles, “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” You insist, not meeting his eyes though, “You don’t need to be sorry.”

“Stupid of me,” He shakes his head, “Just thought-” He sucks in a breath and pushes it out on a sigh, “Thought maybe you’d feel the same, but it was stupid.”

“It wasn’t stupid, Joel,” You sigh, finally turning to him, “It’s okay.”

“Makes sense,” He shrugs, eyes boring holes into the flames in front of you, “I’m old, too old for you to want me.”

“It has nothing to do with you being too old for me Joel, I couldn’t give less of a fuck about that.”

You expect him to drop it, like he often does with these kinds of conversation, the ones that involve feelings, but he doesn’t.

“Then what is it?”

“Well, it has nothing to do with your grey hairs or your creaky fucking knees, that’s for sure.”

He’s looking at you with a look that says to get fucked, hurry up, tell him the real reason for all this.

“I could be shit in bed for all you know.”

“Well that’s easy to rectify, just need a little practice.”

It makes you snort, “Can we be fucking serious for a minute, Miller?”

“You’re the one who said it first.”

“What happens when it goes tits up?” You ask, “When you get bored of me, or realise I’m not what you thought I was, what happens then?” He opens his mouth to respond to you, but you beat him to it, “I lose my best friend, that’s what happens, the only person in this Godforsaken world that I have, and I don’t want that, I don’t want a world where I’m without you.”

“Who says it’s going to go tits up?” He counters, “Baby, I’m old, I ain’t gonna go running off, I just want somethin’ good, somethin’ happy, and I want that with you,” Just like you had done before, he starts talking again before you can add something, “Put your faith in somethin’, darlin’,” He’s moving back towards you now, shifting closer, “Put your faith in, me.”

It sounds so easy when he says it like that, because you had once before, without even realising. Let him in, let him get close, to know everything you’d been through, share everything he’d been through. You let him sit with you late at night in the summer, strumming his guitar on your porch, he lets you share his whiskey when you need it.

“I’m still gonna be your best friend,” He urges, that warm palm resting on your knee, “That ain’t gonna change, we’re just gonna add to it.”

And for some reason, it snaps, all of your good judgement and everything that was holding you back. His face is cradled in your palms before you know it, your body straddling his lap as your mouth slants over his, a surprised gasp swallowed by your mouth as his lips open against yours, his hands coming to rest on the globes of your ass through your jeans, pulling you closer, chest flush to chest as you soak this in.

Hands dropping to the collar of his shirt, you start to slowly unbutton it, mouth still against his, tongue tasting him as your fingers push button after button through their holes until you can push it from his shoulders, drag his arms from it, drag his undershirt from it’s place tucked into his jeans.

Joel gasps when your hands make contact with the skin under it, fingers still slightly icy from the cold, but that too is swallowed by your mouth, as is the moan that drags from your throat when he bucks his hips into yours.

He pulls away from your lips, forehead pressed to yours as you both breathe deeply, “Don’t seem shit in bed so far.” He chuckles.

“I was fucking with you Joel,” You smile, punctuating it with a roll of your hips into his, “I’m a delight in bed.”

“Prove it.”

“Can’t.”

“Why not?”

“This is the floor Joel,” Which earns you a squeeze to your ass, “I’ve never fucked someone on the floor before.”

Before you know what’s happening, he’s flipped you over, your back pressed to the dusty wooden floor, his body looming over yours, fingers picking the button of your jeans apart, pulling the zipper down, fingers hooking into the waistband of your jeans, pulling them down your legs, underwear along with them too, before they’re thrown behind him somewhere, forgotten as he parts your knees, legs spread, exposed to him, and you think you might die from the way he looks at you. You bury your head into your shoulder, trying to escape his gaze as he drags his thumb along your folds, growling when he feels how wet you are just from his mouth on yours.

You’re vaguely aware of the sounds of his feet hitting one of the armchairs behind him as he lowers his chest to the floor, hands pulling at your hips, your back dragging across the wooden floor as his mouth presses a single, feather-light kiss to your clit. The smallest of touches to your body has your back arching into him.

How long has it been? Not since you fucked someone, because in the grand scheme of things that hasn’t been too long. No, how long has it been since someone actually made you feel good? Years, you think. Too long. Too long since sex was anything more than just stress relief, pressed against the brick wall by the Tipsy Bison, letting someone fuck you so you could feel something, giving them the bragging rights of fucking the town outcast in return.

This is different. So different. Joel is slow with it, parting you in front of his face with his thumbs, tongue swirling through the slick you’re not even embarrassed about now, tasting you, drinking you in, before he drags his perfect mouth up, lapping gently at your clit with the tip of his tongue.

“Taste so fuckin’ good for me, baby.” He coos against your skin, his praise making you preen, hips chasing the feeling of his mouth on you, he chuckles at your desperation, “How long’s it been since someone made you feel good, huh?”

Your fingers tangle in the curls on his head, dragging him back down to your cunt to silence him, “Too long.” Is all you offer as he feasts on you.

Tongue swirling, lips suckling, fingers digging into the skin of your hips, dragging you slowly but surely to the edge, the fire in your blood no match for the fire against your skin. He’s fucking good at this, knows exactly how to listen to your moans, the way you pull at his hair when he does something you like, collecting the little gasps and hip movements until he’s working a pattern on your pussy that makes you feeling like you’re going to explode, combust, maybe even die a little.

“Don’t stop,” You urge, breathless, sheen of sweat settling across what skin of yours is exposed to the flames near to you, “Gonna - fuck Joel - gonna cum.”

That’s when he pushes two of his fingers into you. Hooking them up inside of your cunt, your legs dropping open further than you thought possible as he works you and works you. You’ve gone quiet, letting out only short breathes when holding them in makes your head light, fingers so tight in his hair that you think it’s probably hurting.

Then, you think you find God, right there on the dirty, dusty floor, when the coil snaps inside of you. Your back arches off the floor, thighs clenched around Joel’s head as his tongue continues the flicks against your clit, ignoring the high-pitches whines of too much, Joel listening instead to the movement of your legs, the way your entire body convulses until you truly are spent for him.

Joel pushes himself up onto his knees, dragging his undershirt over his head, pulling his belt through its loops as you’re sitting up, dragging the upper portion of your clothes off, naked on the floor for him, the flames from the fire keeping you warm, even if your nipples do pebble and peak against the cold.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Joel breathes out as your hand settles on your pussy, fingers dragging through the slick to lazily move over your clit, “I wish you could see yourself right now, baby,” He crones, pushing down his jeans, cock springing free, immediately clasped in his fist, movements slow as he watches you touch yourself, “Pretty as a fuckin’ picture.”

His body falls forward, coverings yours, but this isn’t what you want. Hand on his chest, you’re pushing him back, “Wanna ride you, Joel.” You whine.

Like a kid on Christmas, he’s on his back in seconds, jeans and underwear pooled around his ankles because if you’re not sinking down on him in the next few seconds, he’s going to scream. You settle your thighs on either side of his hips, his cock, heavy and throbbing against his stomach. He’s watching you, as you take the base of him in your hand, line him up with that aching core of yours, head notching into you, where you just keep him for a moment, let him stretch you as you ground yourself with palms on his chest, sinking down, inch by inch until he’s fully buried inside you, warmth wrapping around him, just like the warmth from the fire against his skin.

You start moving your hips, his cock so deep in you he swears if he put a palm on your lower belly, he’d feel himself through your skin with the way you’re grinding against him, head thrown back, mouth dropped open. He wishes he could take a photo of this. He doesn’t think he’s seen a nicer sight in his life.

“It’s a lot, ain’t it baby?” He coos, hands on your hips, guiding your movements, he knows he’s big, been told enough times through his life, but the way you’re slow, getting used to him inside him, has him on the verge of spilling inside you already.

“So big, Joel.” You whine, leaning back now, hands on his knees which have moved up, his feet planted on the floor now, and God alive, if he thought you were a sight before, you’re a fucking masterpiece now as you start bouncing on his cock.

He can’t help himself, he is only a man after all, his hands trailing up the curves of your side, taking hold of your tits, rolling your nipples between his fingers, listening to the way you sing for him. Somehow, he finds core strength from somewhere, pushes himself up, one hand behind him to prop him where he is, as his mouth sucks a nipple into his mouth, rolling that pebbled peak with his tongue, your arm wrapping around his shoulders to steady yourself against him, hips still working against his, finger tangling in the curls near his neck, keeping his mouth anchored right where it is.

Joel pulls off you, a wet smack from his lips as he looks up at you with those beautiful brown orbs, “Feel so fuckin’ good, baby,” He praises, “So tight around me, like you were made for me.”

“Wanna feel you,” You moan, head dropping against his shoulder, “Wanna feel you come for me.”

He’s wrapping his arms around your back, dragging you down with him as he rests himself back on the floor, your chest pressed to his as he finally takes control. Feet planted on the floor with your teeth digging into his shoulders, he fucks up into you, the cabin filled with nothing but breathy moans and a lewd smack of skin as he pounds himself into you. In an ideal world he’d focus on making you come again, feeling you clench around his cock as you fall apart would be incredible, but he thinks there will be time for that later.

He’s so fucking close, you can feel it, the way his fingers are gripping t every inch of skin they can reach, the way his hips are faltering and how your name is more of a feature on his lips. You let out a surprise squeal as he flips you both, your back now to the ground as his cock slips out of you, his fist replacing the wet heat of your cunt as the warmth of his cum splashes across your lower belly, a howl, not unlike an animal, falling from his mouth as he paints you, claims you as his own with those ropes of cum across your skin.

When all is said and done, and he’s taken in the sight of your skin splashed with his spend, the two of you lying in front of the fire, one blanket dragged from the bed on the floor to soften the harsh wood, another pooled around both your hips, this feels like home. Both you and Joel, led on your side, watching each other, and the flickering light of the fire bathes you both in orange, in warmth.

His hand traces your face, thumb dragging across your bottom lip as he leans in to kiss you. Hours later, with harsh wind and snow still swirling outside, he brushes a thumb across your nipple, your hand reaching down between you to find him hard again. He puts you on your back this time, creaky knees be damned, slides his cock into your aching cunt once more, fucks you slowly, the entirety of his weight pressed against you. That orange glow almost convincing you that this was before, when things were normal, romantic even, as his lips leaves tiny bruises across your skin.

When he’s marked you once more as his, cum splashed from your pussy to your tits, he lies back down, the broad expanse of his back to the dying embers of the fire, your back pressed to his front, his arm snaked under your neck, urging you to sleep, and as you drift off, Joel’s hot breath against the skin of your ear, his other arm draped loosely over your waist, you pray that the snow is just as bad in the morning, because if it were possible, you want to return even less now, want to remain huddled next to Joel, on the floor, for the rest of your life.

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bluebeary-jay · 1 year

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That funny feeling

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: pet names are something that's equally very easy and very hard for Joel (based on this request!)

Tags: established relationship, F-L-U-F-F, a grain of angst, idiots in love, a lot of overthinking uGH, mutual dumbassery, love deprived (& soft) Joel, i'm playing with the timeline here a bit, alsoo suggestive undertones hehe

Warnings: swearing and miscommunication, and nothing more ig

Word count: 3.6K

A/N: i'm finally feeling okay!! it took a while and i'm sorry for the wait. as always i hope you all will like what i came up with, and thank you again dear for requesting 💕

One of the things you noticed during those first few months of being in a relationship with Joel – and one which probably surprised you the most – was his fondness for using endearments when he was addressing you.

He called you by many names – darlin’, sweetheart and baby were just a tip of the iceberg.

And you adored it. Every single one of them.

How could you not when those pet names sounded so precious in that low and gruff voice of his? When the fact that he chose to let you get a glimpse at his softer side made you feel so special?

He clearly liked doing this, too – and, as you suspected, watching your reaction when you received them. The tug of his lips and that dimple you so loved were an indicator enough that he wasn’t doing it out of obligation or because it was somehow expected of him.

Another thing that surprised you was how casual he was about it. Having not been in a proper relationship before made you feel out of your depth here, but from what you gathered, neither was he. At least for some time.

And yet, he seemed to have no problem or reservations about addressing you this way. He started even before he kissed you for the first time. You suspected that back then it was his strategy to show you – without voicing his intentions out loud – how he felt about you. It worked, somehow (because how were you supposed to resist that southern charm of his?), and once you both settled who you want to be for one another, it was like a switch flipped inside him.

But instead of turning it off, it only amplified his new habit and added more love and tenderness to the tone of his voice when he was calling you pet names.

You certainly were not complaining – especially when Joel was muttering those sweet words in a raspy voice into your skin when you were just waking up, or whispering them in your ear when you were passing each other during the day, brushing his hand against your waist.

So it was probably no surprise that you wanted to return the favor. The longer you were with each other, the more you wondered about what it would be like to call Joel by one of those endearments he used for you. If he would smile, if his eyes would crinkle in that adorable way…

Something was stopping you, though. Every time you were in public and Joel wasn’t currently looking at you, you were reminded of what kind of man you thought he was before you actually got to know him. His expression, the look in his eyes and his very presence were so intimidating that it gave you a pause each time. You knew he was a sweet, loving soul inside and it wasn’t like he’d be offended by being called by an affectionate nickname, or like your relationship would spiral down because of that.

…right?

What you did know, however, was that Joel Miller was a caretaker. A giver. And you wanted to take care of him, too, to make him feel as loved and cherished as he was making you feel – something you hadn’t a clue if you were doing right due to your own inexperience.

So one day, while you were tending to horses in the stables – one of your responsibilities in Jackson – you finally decided to stop overthinking and just… do what feels right to you. You were two grown-ass people. If anything happens – but probably nothing will – you’ll talk it out like adults.

You got lost in your own thoughts as you absent-mindedly brushed the coat of one of the horses. Suddenly, your attention was drawn by the animal neighing loudly but before you could look up, two strong arms embraced you from behind and a pair of lips pressed themselves to your neck.

You squealed in surprise, and then burst into giggles, when you felt Joel’s beard tickling your skin as he planted tender kisses on your neck, going down to your shoulder.

“Mornin’, sweetheart.”

It was not morning, but you haven’t seen him at all today since he left very early to help Tommy and some other men build a new storage house near the main street. As usual, you planned on meeting him when you’re done in the stables, but you were more than happy that he chose to surprise you.

“Hi,” you giggled. You tried to turn around to face him, but Joel grumbled and held you tighter to his chest, so you settled for putting your hand on the back of his head in an awkward half-hug. “You have some nerve coming here after you left me so rudely in the morning.”

He let out a sound between a groan and a chuckle.

“I tried to say goodbye, but you were out cold.”

“You didn’t try hard enough, then.”

“Fine. Next time I’ll shake you awake.” He pressed his lips to your pulse, planting a soft kiss there, and then another one a little bit lower, murmuring into your skin. “But you wouldn’t do that either if you were me and had an angel in your bed.”

You blew a raspberry and shook your head, making him hum against your neck with a smile. “Too much?”

“Just a little.” You turned around in his arms, and he dropped his head on your shoulder. “How’s work going?”

The man sighed heavily.

“It’s goin’. But I swear to God, Tommy gets more insufferable the sooner due date is. He almost lost it when some of the materials went missin’.”

“Well, it’s understandable with a little Miller on the way,” you replied, ruffling the hair on the back of his head and making Joel give you the stink eye. You scrunched your nose at him teasingly. “Get that pout off your face, mister, and better start thinking about what we’re watching tonight. My place, right?”

“Mhm.” He opened his mouth to say something else, but then angled his head to the side. There was a distant shouting from the direction of the road and you could faintly hear Tommy’s voice among the noise. Joel took a deep breath and his warm eyes met yours. “Alright, I better go before he does somethin’ stupid again. I’ll meet you tonight after guitar practice with Ellie.”

“Don’t be late again or I won’t let you in this time,” you said sweetly and a smirk danced on his lips.

“You’re annoyin’, you know that?” Joel leaned in and gave you a quick kiss on the lips, and then a lingering one on your forehead. “I’ll be on time, promise.”

You smiled and pushed his chest gently, letting him know that he should get back to his brother. He laughed – this actual rare and heartfelt laugh of his, which reminded you yet again how much you loved him – and took a couple of steps back.

“I’m holding you to it, handsome. Now go.”

Joel started to turn around, but then came to a sudden stop as soon as he heard you. It came out a bit awkward because he was mid-step and his feet kind of tangled up together, making him stumble before he managed to catch his balance.

You snorted and tilted your head to the side to peer at him, but his face was unreadable, almost blank. Like that rare and genuine laugh from earlier wiped all the emotions out of him.

“Hey. You okay?” you asked with a playful smile, taking in his expression. Joel looked over at you but didn’t answer, and you raised your eyebrows. “Joel?”

He parted his lips, like he wanted to say something, but no sound came out.

Something wasn’t right. His sudden silence wasn’t anything new – one of Joel’s main traits was being untalkative, though it got better since you two started dating, so you were used to it. But this was different. In his eyes there was a look of… you honestly couldn’t tell if it was awe or hurt. But you’ve never seen an expression like this on his face before.

He still didn’t say anything. You started feeling uneasy, but tried to play it off.

“Or… I could swing by Ellie’s before you two finish and–”

“I gotta go,” Joel muttered suddenly. “I’ll… see you later.”

He turned to the exit, but you quickly went around him and blocked his way with a frown. “Hey, hey, hey, wait. I’m serious now, are you okay?”

Joel glanced at you again, but then averted his eyes almost immediately. You gave him a weird look when he turned his head, as if looking for someone to get him out of here, but then a grin spread across your face when you noticed…

“Is this… Are you blushing?” you asked quietly. Joel winced and your smile got even wider. “You are! Does that–”

“I really gotta go, dar–” he stopped himself and patted your arm in a slapdash manner, not meeting your eyes. “I’ll see you later, alrigh’?”

Before you had a chance to ask or stop him, he walked away quickly, leaving you behind.

Your shoulders slumped and the smile disappeared from your face.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this.

*****

He did not see you later.

In fact, you didn’t have a chance to talk to him at all that day.

Once you finished your shift, you went looking for him but Joel wasn’t at the construction site, nor could you find him anywhere in town. You tried asking Tommy and Ellie about his whereabouts, but while his brother was as clueless as you, the teen seemed suspiciously quiet, and the second you took your eyes off her, she disappeared as well.

He didn’t come to your house that evening, and as it turned out, didn’t have guitar practice with Ellie, either. You felt a little hurt by the sudden disappearance, but ultimately decided against going to his house and invading his space when he clearly needed it.

It wasn’t until the next day that you saw the man again, but you never got a chance to ask him about what happened.

Joel came unannounced to your house and – literally and figuratively – swept you off your feet, acting a little softer and more… well, handsy than usual, but still in his normal Joel-like fashion, as if nothing ever happened. He did apologize for disappearing but it also seemed like he was trying really hard to avoid talking about yesterday altogether. So eventually you let it go.

The only explanation you could come up with was that you scared him off. Maybe it was too soon, maybe he just wasn’t okay with it – whatever the reason, it was evident he didn’t want you to bring it up.

So you decided to respect his boundaries and let the topic go. At least for now.

*****

Almost a week has passed, and you didn’t call him that again.

And fuck, if Joel wasn’t dying to hear that word from you just once more.

What he felt in that millisecond in the stables was so sudden and new – this weird, fluttery feeling in his stomach when you called him ‘handsome’ – that he honestly was at a loss how to react. Yes, he panicked (he wasn’t proud of that) and then when you pointed out the traitorous blush on his cheeks… it overwhelmed him.

Avoiding you for the rest of the day was a cowardly thing to do, but he needed some time to think about his next move before he could face you again.

He screwed up, that much was obvious. Joel didn’t know how to fix it, but he did have an idea how to make you feel comfortable enough to maybe do it again. A chance for him to react accordingly this time.

So since then, he made sure to show and tell you more often how important you were to him and how much he loved you, even though he was dying of cringe at times. His efforts were rewarding, of course – your every smile, every look in his direction was considered a win and a blessing in itself – and it seemed you forgot about his freak-out from the other day.

But you didn’t try it again.

And Joel didn’t know what to do. He’d never ask anyone for advice (God forbid Tommy ever finds out how big of a deal it was to his brother), and talking it out with you seemed like the most unattainable and impossible idea in the world.

You continued calling him by his name – and he couldn’t exactly complain when his name sounded so fucking perfect in your voice – but hell if Joel didn’t wish you try something else.

It didn’t even need to be this ‘handsome’ one you used. Any stupid nickname you come up with, he’d revel in it and this time wouldn’t chicken out.

Jesus, he had it bad. It was almost pathetic.

It wasn’t a life-changing, world-moving issue, though, and Joel wasn’t spending every waking moment thinking about shit like that. There was still work needed to be done in Jackson, he and you still had your own lifes, and… days passed.

It was just over a week later, when Joel came back home from a late-night job to find you asleep in his living room, that he thought about it again.

His heart swelled with adoration when he saw your form curled up on the couch. You must’ve been waiting for his return, but neither of you expected his work to take this long.

Joel bent over and put one arm under your knees and the other wrapped around your body, grunting at the pain in his back. You inhaled sharply when he picked you up, grumbling something incoherent.

“Shh, babygirl, it’s me,” he whispered soothingly, cradling you against his chest. “I’ll put you in bed. Or do you want to go back home?”

You made a noise of disagreement and breathed him in deeply, not opening your eyes.

“You’re late,” you slurred instead of answering him, nuzzling into his chest. Joel sighed tiredly.

“I know, baby, I’m sorry,” he whispered back. “The guys needed more help at the construction site.”

“Alright,” you mumbled again. “M’just glad you’re home now, honey.”

Joel’s feet stopped moving – gradually this time, not putting you at risk of being dropped – and he took a deep breath to tether himself before continuing his way to the bedroom.

You were asleep, he told himself while he was laying you down. It would be wrong to wake you and talk about it now. It could wait. He could wait.

Joel paused, then crouched at the head of the bed where he put you down, and delicately brushed some hair out of your forehead. His face was stoic, though those thoughts raged on like a hurricane inside his mind.

He had no idea how to do this. How to talk about this.

But he knew two things – he knew that his heart belonged to you, and that he didn’t want to settle for those pet names you accidentally muttered when half-awake, all because he was too much of a coward to admit what he wanted.

“Darlin’?”

“Hm?” you hummed, snuggling into his pillow.

Joel’s heart was beating so damn loud, he thought it was about to jump out of his chest. He took a grounding breath, brushing his knuckles against your cheek softly.

“Say that again,” he asked quietly in a raspy voice.

You made a face, keeping your eyes closed.

“I didn’t say anything.”

Joel swallowed hard and he was so nervous, he had to remind himself to unclench his jaw not to break all of his teeth.

Fucking Christ, he could take on the swarm of infected any day without losing his cool, so why was admitting stuff like this so damn difficult?

“Not now. Before. The…” he cleared his throat with embarrassment. His tongue felt like it was made of lead, and his face like it was shoved into a campfire, “pet name.”

That word finally got your attention. In a blink of an eye you were wide awake and lifted yourself on your elbows, rubbing your eyes. Joel almost regretted having said anything.

“Pet name?” you repeated, and then a shy, uncertain smile crept over your face. “Oh… I thought you said you didn’t like it.”

Don’t run, don’t you dare run now…

“I never said that,” he grumbled and furrowed his eyebrows, angry at himself that he made such a big deal out of it, that he had to talk about it now, a whole week later. You winced sheepishly.

“Well… Yeah, you didn’t, but the last time…” You sat up straight on the bed, rubbing your eyes again like you wanted to make sure you were entirely awake and focused for this conversation – which made Joel wishing even more that he had kept his mouth shut. “You ran off and I thought… I dunno, that…”

You shrugged, but you didn’t need to finish, for he understood how it must’ve looked.

Joel sighed heavily and put his forehead on your knee with fatigue. He felt your hands smoothing the shirt on his shoulders and back, and once again wondered what he did to ever deserve you.

“What do you say we don’t talk ‘bout this?” he proposed softly, feeling like a goddamn fool now. “Just… It felt nice. Good. And I want you to do it again… sometimes.”

“I want to talk about it, though.” You cupped his cheeks and lifted his head to look him in the eyes. A thought ran briefly through Joel’s mind about how fitting it was – he on his knees, looking up at you like the miracle you were. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Joel. I just don’t understand why you didn’t tell me.”

“What do you think?” he whispered, looking away, though your hands kept his head in place. He raised one of his own to cover your fingers with his, keeping it there. “It’s… goddammit,” he swore and closed his eyes, squeezing your hand faintly. “It’s all just kinda new for me, too,” he said at last. “As dumb as it sounds.”

You swiped your thumbs over his cheekbones. “It’s not dumb.” He didn’t say anything, and after a couple of seconds you sighed. “Okay, we don’t have to discuss it if you don’t want to. Just… maybe try to give me a sign next time,” you offered gently. “I don’t always know what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

You were trying to lighten the atmosphere, bless your kind heart, and the corner of his lips tugged upwards despite the turmoil in his heart.

“Darlin’, that’s what I’ve been tryin’ to do for the past week. I’m not good at talkin’ but I… shit, I don’t know, I thought that if I start callin’ you like that more, it’ll… prompt you to do the same, I guess.”

At that, your hands slid off his cheeks and your face turned blank.

“Oh,” you breathed. Joel lifted his eyebrows in question and you added hurriedly: “I thought you were doing this to… I don’t know, let me know that you feel more comfortable calling me that than getting called…”

It was Joel’s turn to look at you blankly.

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” he whispered with disbelief clear in his voice. “I tried to somehow show you that it’s fine. Do you…” he paused when you slowly started to giggle, which soon turned into a fit of laughter at the tone of his voice. “Do you have any idea how embarrassin’ it was for me at times? And not once–”

He tried to sound accusatory, but your bright smile was too contagious and soon Joel was grinning, too. He covered the bottom part of his face with his hand, trying to regain his composure, and shook his head while muttering under his breath.

Then he felt your hands on both sides of his head again when you leaned forward and, still with that big, gorgeous smile of yours, started peppering his face in kisses. He tried to swat you away but it didn’t take long before he gave in to his fate.

After a couple of seconds of this sweet torture, you pulled back a little, leaving the tingly feeling of your lips all over his face.

“So, just to make sure. I can call you that?” you asked semi-shyly, though there was a mischievous glimmer in your eye, which made Joel smirk lopsidedly.

“Already told you, beautiful,” he murmured in a low voice, swiping his thumb across your cheekbone lovingly. “But nothin’ over-the-top, alright?”

“Alright,” you agreed, just as quietly, and then leaned in to kiss him lightly.

The suffocating coils of embarrassment in his stomach disappeared the moment you touched him. Joel decided that if suffering through those moments of vulnerability would end up with you in his arms and his lips on yours, he was able to survive them.

“Now come to bed, handsome,” you whispered against his mouth with a smile. Your voice had that downright sinful tone to it, which you knew was driving him insane. “I got cold waiting for you all alone.”

Little minx.

He gave you a smirk before crawling on top of you and scooping you in his arms. The sound of your laugh filled the room as he rolled both of you over, pulling you closer and onto his chest.

“Whatever you wish, sweetheart.”

#joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #the last of us fanfiction #joel tlou #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #tlou hbo

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henneseyhoe · 4 months

Text

Still Mine.

Tyrone x BLACK!FEM!Reader

WARNINGS: Tyrone being a slut, baby daddy drama, smutty flashback, slight daddy kink, unprotected sex(wrap it before you smack it!), abortion mentioned, pill mentioned, baby trapping, short, tad bit unedited.

SUMMARY: During Tyrone’s weekly pickup of his daughter, he tries to make his baby mama fold.

Ps. This was originally SO much longer but I didn’t like the way some parts were written so I cut it in half lolzzz

✮✮✮✮

“You know if I licked it, it’s mine, right?”

Your face twisted into a mug at Tyrone’s words while packing a diaper bag with all the necessary things your daughter needed for the weekend with him.

“Tyrone, please don’t start with that tonight” You couldn’t believe the extents he’d go just because you were seeing other people, it was crazy! Tyrone didn’t see it that way though.

The man was a tyrant. A danger to society and other men when he suspects you fucking with somebody who wasn’t him. Every single time he found out, he would let you know that you had limited days with that nigga, which he was always right about.

They’d either disappear completely or simply just stop responding to your texts.

One time you saw one of them at the grocery store and tried to say hi but he ran the other way, even left his cart stacked with groceries. You wondered what the hell was going on, and why they were so scared, but you knew there was only one person that could have them running for the hills like that, and it wasn’t you.

“I’m not startin’ shit, I’m speakin’ facts. You playin’, knowing them niggas ain’t shit compared to me”

Though the statement was true, it was bold of him to assume you wasn’t getting any good play. It was rare you did, but still! It’s the audacity.

You look at Tyrone up and down before bursting into laughter, making the infant besides you both slightly jump in her pack and play, looking around in confusion before flipping over on her stomach, a skill she just learned.

“Oop- I’m sorry, mama” You apologize to her, the baby just rolling back over and blinking up at you with a tether in her mouth. “Now, back to yo’ delusional ass!”

You thanked god the small child wasn’t old enough to understand words because she would have been cursing like a sailor by now. Pointing at Tyrone with the acrylic nails he paid for, that same signature mean look on his face that he always wore when somebody had him fucked up, you squint.

“Ain’t shit yours, and it hasn’t been yours since about a year now”

Tyrone sucks his teeth, still not believing anything you were saying to him.

“You shittin’ me, it’s always gon be mine!”

“Says who?! You crazy” You blow him off with the wave of your hand, zipping the diaper bag up and handing it to him.

He grabs it, then drops it to his feet without a care, crossing his arms. You look at him with a confused expression, your eyebrow cocked upwards.

“Why you like playin’ wit’ me?” He questioned while straight faced, but you stood your ground, unlike when you use to submit under him and his tone when you two were together. Truthfully, you use to be a bit scared of the nigga. He never gave you a reason to be personally, but he was a hard shell to crack, you rarely knew if he was happy or sad until he said something to steer you in a certain direction.

“Tyrone, quit playing and find you something safe to do, aight?” You fired back, challenging him. He moved not one inch. You knew he wasn’t scared of you at all, so this was no surprise, but you wasn’t gonna take him treating you like this in your own damn house.

“How many niggas you fucked since we broke up, Y/N?”

You shrug. “However many I wanted. I dunno, I wasn’t counting”

“Okay” He nods slowly, putting you on edge just a tad bit. You hum and study his reaction. He only did that when he had some shit up his sleeve. A simple answer, then a nod before he did or said some fuck shit. “And if I find them niggas and suddenly they stop callin’, then what?” Nothing he hasn’t done before.

“One less problem for me. You already pack up enough niggas in the glen anyway. Can’t kill ‘em all!” You giggle childishly after gaining your composure again, but as you found humor, the man stayed oh so serious.

“Oh, you’d be surprised at what a nigga can do now”

“Lemme guess, you learned to read a no loitering sign? Or maybe a no trespassing one?” You continued to joke, him finding nothing funny, as usual.

“You think you so funny” He warns, but you brush him off again, picking the diaper bag up and handing it to him again, this time forcing it in his hands to keep it there.

“I’m fuckin’ hilarious, nigga. better ask bout me”

Tyrone rolls his eyes.

“…so you really tellin’ me youn miss me?”

You turn and walk away to ignore the man further, side eyeing him as he followed. “Get out my face, Ty”

“Stop playin…so youn miss how I use to beat that pussy till you cry?” He spoke, getting closer to your ear so you could hear every syllable there. See, if this was a year and some change ago, you would have folded yourself in on a couch and put your legs to the sky faster than a pin could drop, but you had a point to prove.

You inched away from him to your kitchen, but he followed behind like a hungry shark that smelled blood.

“Let daddy dig that pussy out again, baby. You know I do it better than any other nigga”

Just with those few words, it had you thinking of flashbacks, your eyes fighting off a roll inwards. You knew the power he held in those boxers, you knew all too well what he was capable of. When Tyrone got to the pussy, he made sure he wasn’t playing no games. The man would even pull your bed from the wall everytime he came over so nobody in your moms house could hear how hard he was beating it up, talking dirty to you like you was a random bitch from the club, and that was your favorite part. That’s how you got into this mess anyway. Stuck with him and a tiny human who stole your face.

✮✮✮✮

Tyrone was definitely a man of threats, but he had never fallen through with any of the non-violent ones till this.

As Tyrone bucked his hips wildly into you, your leg began to quiver in his hold. You had thanked the gods that he had opted to lay you down on your side instead of fucking you standing up like he loved to do. You were sure your legs would have gave out by now if you were upright.

“Imma nut in this pussy, baby. Can daddy nut in this pussy? You want daddy to get you pregnant?”

He asks, and you nodded gladly like a dummy. Whatever the female version of pussy whipped was, you were definitely long past it. Even in that moment, you thought he wasn’t serious about the whole baby thing. He had never talked about one outside of sex, and you honestly thought he was against the entire idea of kids with the way he’d run junebug out of his presence when he’d do normal kid shit. He just didn’t seem serious.

Hell, you knew you weren’t serious about it. What would you do with a baby in this economy? Most importantly, how the fuck were you gonna care for it? You were only 21 and he was 24, had no business being together, but obviously he wasn’t the type to follow rules of any kind, or let you go.

The more he promised to get you pregnant, the harder y’all fucked until you were on top, riding him like there was a prize at the finish line you called an orgasm. Your hands were placed on his thighs behind you and your back was arched in as you spread your legs wide and bounced that ass on him, giving him the perfect opportunity to see himself slip in and out of you.

“Shit…shit! I’m bout to cum!” He shouts while panting, a few groans exiting his mouth.

“Fuuuck! I’m bout to nut, bae!” You heard him announce once again, but that wasn’t what set off alarms in your head, it was when he held you down and continued thrusting upwards into your wetness, making you leak. You whimper and shout, toes curling into the mattress.

“Shit! Lemme get up, Ty!” You tap his hands, trying to get them off of your hips so you could move, but he continues to bounce you with his fingers gripping you tightly, bound to leave a mark. “Tyrone! lemme get up, please!” You shout with urgency, but it had already been too late. By the time you rose up off of his dick, he had been pumping out the last bit of his seed, the small amount just sliding down the shaft of his dick. That’s when you knew you fucked up. Tyrone was a shooter in more ways than one, but when it came to cumming, he was damn near like a loaded gun. You’d have to squeeze your eyes shut when giving him head because he liked to cum on your face, and the first time he did, he almost blinded you with how far he came, literally.

“My god…” You breathed harshly, looking down at his dick begin to soften.

When it was all said and done, you asked him for money for a plan B, but lo and behold, he already had a pill prepared. Right in the glove compartment of his car is where he kept it and gave it to you when he came to see you the next day. But, as the weeks went by, you started to feel like that pill wasn’t much of a plan B, or at least not your “plan B”. It was definitely Tyrone’s though.

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and nine of those later, you were popping out a little girl with a full head of hair and features just like yours. If you told somebody you made the baby alone, they’d probably believe you with how much you two looked alike. You were pissed off your entire pregnancy at Tyrone, but that didn’t stop you from loving your baby, you just couldn’t bring yourself to get rid of her either, though the process wasn’t foreign to you. If the “plan B” didn’t take her out, then who says she wasn’t meant to be here? But, with that being said, as you came closer to your due date, you grew farther from Tyrone while he was trying to keep you close, you even moved out of the glen and into a whole ‘nother town over.

He was there through your entire pregnancy, or at least tried when you weren’t trying to kill him for getting into stupid shit and almost dying, but because he was still so supportive and caring for you, checking up on how both you and the baby were doing, you cut him some slack, letting him name the bouncing baby girl. He went with the name ‘Autum’ because you two met in autumn, to your surprise he even remembered that since it had been so long ago.

Fast forward five months later, y’all were still beefing on and off over stupid shit. You would curse him out over scaring away new friends and or lovers, he’d ignore it and continue, working extra hard to make sure all them niggas knew who he was. Oh, Tyrone was on a mission, and he would not be ignored by some lame nigga you wanted to fuck, or ignored by you.

✮✮✮✮

#fontaine x black reader #john boyega smut #x black oc #black oc #smut masterlist #masterlist #black!fem! reader #black!reader #black reader #black writer #black fanfiction #john boyega #they cloned tyrone fanfic #they cloned tyrone smut #tyrone x reader #smutty #henneseyhoe

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st4rymoon · 1 month

Note

can i request a smut!!!

so basically steven is a porn star and he’s roommates with the fem!reader and she didn’t know what his job was because he always was cooped up in his room but he always pays rent on time and when the reader was feeling needy she finds one his videos and he catches her and the once so shy steven disappeared

if not feel free to ignore 😭

This has me giggling and kicking my feet up…

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐨𝐲 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐃𝐨𝐨𝐫 • 𝘙𝘰𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

- 18+, prn star Steven!, sex toys, masterbation, unprotected sex, mean Steven, choking, degrading, p in v, slight fingering, arguing, horny Steven & reader, teasing, language, porn, reader gets caught watching Steven’s porn! Vids, bratty reader, pet names, pussy job!, belly bulge, big dick! Steven

You were delighted knowing you had such a pleasant roommate. After dozens of roommate horror stories told to you by your friends, you were more than happy to find that your roommate was always locked up in his room.

Steven, a British, brown haired gentleman was one of the first people to call for the open room. He was timid to say the least, quiet, and polite.

Even though your interactions were limited, they were always enjoyable. Both of you willingly making dinner for each other every now and then. He loved to talk about Egyptian history, he seemed to be your own personal google when it came to it.

You never questioned the fair amount of packages this man managed to get. Never questioning it due to the fact that he was a nerd, probably some books or figures of Egyptian gods

“Steven another one of your packages arrived” you yelled out as you shut the door behind you, the packages seemed to be never-ending for him.

“Ah- thank you!” He blurted out as he came running out and pulled it out of your hands “so many packages huh!” You joked. He chuckled softly with a smile and went back into his room.

You always wondered what he got up to in his room. Always buried in his room, random music playing at night and muffled noises coming from his bedroom.

Anyone in their right mind would guess he had someone over by the way he’d always keep his door closed but you’d never seen anyone come in or out other than Steven.

“Want anything love? I’m heading out for some food” Steven asked as he walked past the couch. He gave you a flirty wink as he tucked his wallet into his pocket.

“I- I I’m fine thank you” you muttered taken by surprise by the added love in his sentence. “No worries, I’ll be back in a few” he nodded as he shut the door behind him.

You sat in your thoughts for a few moments. Love?

You could tell you haven’t gotten laid in a while by the way that little show of affection had you heated. You’d always thought Steven was attractive but it was always platonic.

You had no clue that Steven would fuck himself in front of his camera as he thought about his hand being yours. You wouldn’t suspect the amount of flesh lights and silicon pussy’s he had locked up in his room.

You rushed into your room, he usually took a few hours whenever he’d go out for some food so you didn’t hesitate to pull out your laptop and look for something to entertain you with.

Looking for porn was difficult to say the least, everything was so boring now and days. You’d go on Twitter in hopes of finding something more your taste.

You clicked and swiped through dozens of pages, none of them catching your attention. You were about to give up until you noticed a familiar bedding, your eyes went wide as you watched.

There was no way.

You noticed your roommates bedding. It’s a coincidence. The person on screen moaned, cock in hand as he jerked himself off. You gasped as the camera shook a bit, allowing you to catch a glimpse of Steven’s distinguishable posters. His pretty face being cut half way off screen with only his mouth in view. You knew it was Steven, how couldn’t it be?

Sure you couldn’t see him completely but it was him. No doubt. The caption reading can’t help but close my eyes and fuck myself to the thought of you as he began to shake. His thick white ropes of cum painting his hand and stomach as he whined and panted out in a shaky tone.

Then you scrolled deeper and were met with the visual of his cock sliding in and out of a fake silicon pussy with a thick white ring of his pre cum forming at the base of his cock.

Just like that yea- oh fuck he cried out. You were completely dumbfounded. You could feel the slick pooling into your panties as you watched hypnotized.

He was fucking huge. The silicon stretched as it adjusted with each of his thrusts, the lewd sounds of the lube and skin slapping together was sinful.

You were laying on your tummy with your laptop in front of you as Steven came in with a handful of cake for you, your favorite midnight snack.

You didn’t notice the sound of the door as you watched in a trance, Steven freezing as he saw himself on your screen. He smiled to himself, finally you’ve found it.

He placed the plate on your drawer as he stood with his arms crossed “having fun?” He cooed. You slammed your laptop closed as you shuffled up onto your bed “I-someone sent me that I was ju-“

“Uh huh uh huh” he nodded “you aren’t a good liar love” he laughed. “So those were all the packages” you awkwardly joked as he smiled down at you “do you do that a lot?” He asked.

“Do what?”

“Do you watch porn a lot” he asked nonchalantly “I- I mean just when I feel like it” you muttered with your face down.

“And what’s got you feeling like it”

You watched Steven closely and noticed he seemed much more confident compared to his usual self. He was leaning on your drawer with his arms wrapped on his chest with a cocky smile on his face.

“You gonna answer?”

“Gosh Steven I watch it when I’m horny! Is that what you wanted to hear! Yes girls watch porn” you semi screamed. “Such an attitude when im just asking a question” he cooed.

“It’s not an attitude. I get horny just the way you do, the only difference being I don’t find it satisfying to fuck a toy.“ you hissed.

“Ouch” he pouted “are you jealous of a toy now?” He smiled “I’m not one to go around and slut myself out, it’s alright if you do”

You looked at him in shock, no fucking way he just called you a slut?

“I’m a slut? I don’t go sleeping around either you piece of shit! And if I did it wouldn’t be any of your business. I don’t like dildos big fucking deal. Now I understand why you have to fuck a damn toy” you scoffed.

Steven had a cheeky smile on his face, it looked almost as if he was enjoying getting on your nerves. “Are you mad I’m not fucking you instead?” He grinned.

“I noticed the way your pretty little eyes lit up as you watched the video, not to mention the way you walk around the flat with flimsy panties on and a tee. I notice it just like you notice me in my sweats”

You squeezed your legs together as the look in his eyes made your stomach turn. You really hope he makes a move.

He walked over to the side of your bed and plotted down besides you “I can see it in your eyes, the way you want me to make a move” he hummed.

“Tell me you don’t me too. Tell me to get out” he cooed “I want it, don’t go please” you moaned. “I know you do” he smiled, a gasp escaped your lips as he pressed his lips onto your neck.

He sloppily kissed up your neck, hand moving behind your head for a better grip “Steven” you purred. He chuckled as you pushed him onto your pillows. You straddled his hips as he pulled his shirt off with no trouble.

“Ah ah let me do it for you” he cooed as he swatted your hands away from your shirt. Steven pulled your top off in a slow, sensual manner. His hands roaming your body as he took in all your beauty.

His hands snaked onto your hips, allowing him to flip you over so he could cage you in. He couldn’t resist running his hands down your tummy knowing he’d be able to see himself bulging through you.

He’d always pretend he was holding you like this while filming, he’d buck his hips into his fist pretending it was your tight cunt hugging around him.

You giggled as he spread your legs wide. He was getting you in the position he always wanted to take you, just the way he fucked his pathetic flesh light. “Such pretty panties love, such a shame they’ll be all messy by the time I’m done” he chuckled.

There was something hypnotizing about the sight in front of you. Steven pulling his sweats off as his stomach curled with his movements had you squirming under him.

“You’re just so desperate to be used aren’t you? Look at you” Steven purred as he moved your panties to the side. He held a tight fist around the thin cloth as he scooted towards you “look at the that”

Steven’s eyes were blown out at the sight of your tight cunt gushing slick. He couldn’t help but push two fingers deep inside you and pull them out for a taste.

“Steven please” you whined. “I know sweetheart, you just want me to make you feel good” he coyly replied. “I’ll make you my new personal toy yeah? Give my fans something real to look at” he hummed as he rubbed himself between your folds.

You mewled at the sensation of Steven fucking himself between your folds with a harsh grip on one thigh as his other held your panties to the side. “I don’t even need to lube you up doll, you’re all wet and ready”

Both of you let out a heavy sigh as Steven sunk into you. The stretch of you cunt making his vision go blurry as he noticed himself bulge through your tummy with half his length in you.

The man you once knew was no where to be found as you dumbly stared into Steven’s eyes. He had your legs spread wide, cock pounding you onto the sheets as he ruined your panties.

He payed no mind to your yelp as you heard the rip of the flimsy panties. He sighed as he finally got them out of the way “are you sure you don’t go sleeping around? You seem to be good at this” he cooed. “F- fuck you!” You whined as his hands wrapped around your waist with his thumbs right above your belly button.

He held onto you like you were too precious to lose and fucked you like he hated you, there was no going back for neither of you. “Sss- stevennn oh my fucking godddd” you cried as his hands snaked up around your neck.

He had you at an angled position, hips slightly off the bed as he used the extra grip as leverage. His hips rammed onto the back of your thighs as his moans grew louder with every thrust.

“You’ll be perfect as a porn star, the sounds you make will make everyone wish they were the ones getting them out of you” he hummed. Your orgasm tingled up your body as you cried out Steven’s name, cunt fluttering around him as you gasped.

“That’s it” he seethed, hips fucking into you harder as he grew closer to the edge “a- fuck lov- better than anything I could wish fo- ah!” Steven hissed as his hips came to a halt.

He was buried so deep you were clawing at his back, your hands pulling him in as you hugged onto him. Steven panted into the crook of your neck and held onto you for dear life. Steven’s sweet moans filled your ears as he spilled his loads in you.

Last night was definitely the last time he’d be posting himself fucking his stupid toys, he’s got something better than silicon now.

#smut #marvel smut #moonknight smut #moonknight x reader #moon knight smut #steven grant smut #steven grant x you #steven grant x reader #steven smut #steven grant

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kentopedia · 9 months

Text

carefully, i was going to live

FEATURING. past nanami kento x f!reader, gojo satoru x reader — wc: 2.9k

SUMMARY: you and gojo realize you share the same kind of pain.

CONTENTS: shibuya arc / jjk s2 spoilers, death, grief, depression, suicidal thoughts, references to disordered eating, implied satosugu, platonic gojo x reader, anger, angst, gojo isn’t sealed

note: reader & gojo’s relationship for the future is up to your interpretation. title is from a mitski song <3

The world was bleak outside your window.

With November came the death of all things beautiful. The trees grew barren, flowers wilted into dreary puddles, the sky turned a muddy shade of grey, and your house transformed into a tomb.

It was almost evening now. The streets were busy with people commuting home from work, children skipping along sidewalks after a tedious day at school. Each expression became the epitome of human nature, and through all their ups and downs, there they stood, alive.

You blinked at the scene, just enough to wet your eyes, trying to ignore the spiteful hatred that bubbled up in you against cheerful strangers.

When the women had a smile on their faces, your mind easily morphed them into miserable frowns, weaved a story of how their partners treated them terribly. Children’s loud giggles turned into wretched cries, sobs from spoiled complaints of not getting their way. Men’s casual conversations on their cell phones became a long-winded rant of how their job was slowly destroying them.

There wasn’t anything left for you in the world but misery. It should only be fair that other people received the same.

Perhaps that was an evil thought, but you didn’t care. The bed was cold, and it had started to smell of something awful from the sheets that housed your own grime and sweat. You shivered, bundling yourself up in the blankets more.

An ache increased in your stomach before it grumbled, breaking the silence. Though, it suppressed its own pleas, knowing better than to suspect sustenance after so many evenings of emptiness. Over and over, you ignored your hunger, a part of you hoping that your body would begin to devour itself from the inside out.

Perhaps, then, you’d finally achieve the peace that you’d been longing for.

From the world inside your mind, Kento scolded you, begged you to pull yourself out of the darkness that you’d crawled into. He’d be unhappy, that much was certain. One look at your unkempt hair would put a crease between his eyebrows. He’d recoil at the piled trash that you’d been too exhausted to take out.

Still, you knew better than to believe he’d be anything but kind about it. Stern, maybe, but uncompromising words would never leave his lips without soft eyes and a sad smile.

You swallowed down the nausea that erupted from within you, and buried yourself deeper into the pillow, wishing the couple in the distance would cease their affectionate embrace.

A tear collected on your lash line.

For a moment, you let yourself fall into the painful peace of delusion. A phantom touch rested on your skin, comforting fingertips dancing along your hip. Kento Nanami’s love pressed into every subtle graze. Please. Let me help you.

His voice was raspy, unfamiliar, and you wondered if you were starting to forget the sound of it, the exact inflection of his words, even though you listened to his painfully short inbox message every day, replayed the voicemails he left you more often than music.

A dry sob forced its way up, though no sound released as you squeezed Kento’s pillow tighter, digging your nose into the cotton. You were desperate for his lingering scent, but it had been two weeks since he’d been killed, and there was nothing left of him.

Still, you sprayed his old cologne on every surface, left everything as he had, and pretended that he was still around.

Grief hugged you tight, trying to embody the embrace that Kento had once given you. You didn’t hear the knock at your front door, muffled from two rooms away and the constant swirl of your heartbroken musings.

No one had visited you in two weeks. Itadori had tried, but you’d screamed far too cruelly at him, even though he was just a kid, and none of this was his fault. The list of guests had been shortened since then.

You didn’t blame them.

Someone said your name, though it was distant, and it was easy to chalk it up to your imagination. Though, the plea became a whisper through a grisly storm, then a scream over the fierce winds in an attempt to reach you.

You opened your eyes, shifting to face the noise.

Satoru Gojo stood at the edge of your bed, his large frame towering over you with every ounce of power he’d been born with, his slack jaw unable to hide his horror at the mess you’d made of yourself. Blindfolded eyes flicked across the room, then, his lips curled into a grimace.

“You’ve been ignoring my calls,” he said. Another sound but your own breath was so unnatural in the stale room. It took you far too long to understand him.

You blinked back once, before rolling over to return your attention to the window once more, the scene beyond it still playing like a television series. Kento had always hated that your bedroom had a view of the city, some illusion of privacy gone now that he could see the world outside. Though, it was the only thing you could be grateful for now, as that square panel of glass became your salvation.

“Sorry.” Your voice was hoarse, raspy. You weren’t sure when you’d used it last. “Phone’s dead.” It had been for days. The slender device rested useless on your nightstand, and you wondered how many people had died since Kento; jujutsu sorcerers didn’t stop fighting just because you had.

Gojo shuffled around the room. You peered over your shoulder to see him sliding the charger into your phone, the screen lighting up later with a bright logo and a ding.

“Everyone’s been calling.” His back was to you, muscles taut with exhaustion and strain. “There aren’t enough sorcerers. We’ve lost so many people.”

You tensed and considered blocking your ears, humming a song like a petulant child. No part of you wanted to hear about Jujutsu. Satoru Gojo could manage on his own, and you didn’t give a damn about saving the world anymore.

“I can’t help you,” you said, realizing just how true that was. There wasn’t an ounce of energy within your body.

Though you had let yourself rot, you had grand plans of finding a curse you could never defeat. You would never be strong enough in your current state, and that was alright. You just wanted to go out with some semblance of a purpose, as Kento had. Maybe that way, it wouldn’t feel so much like a suicide.

“I know,” Gojo sighed, and you waited a minute before he spoke again. “That’s not why I came.”

You breathed; the process was no longer subconscious. “Then why are you here?”

Gojo came around the bed to stand in front of you once more, so close that he blocked your view of the window. His icy irises had been revealed, somehow warning you just how serious he was about this intervention.

The laugh you couldn’t muster up came out in a shaky exhale. You weren’t scared of Gojo, and you certainly weren’t impressed by him enough to listen to whatever wisdom he wanted to bestow upon you.

“I just want to help my old friend.” A twinge of pity in his voice irritated you, even though it was warranted. The scene before him couldn’t evoke any sort of emotion except for pathetic despair. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“No.” Your muscles were weak as you maneuvered your shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “I just don’t care. Not even Satoru Gojo can fix everything. I thought you’ve learned that by now.” It was cruel, you knew that, but you spat the words without regret, rolling onto your back.

The stiffness in your hips alleviated, and finally, he couldn’t pin you with his gaze. You could only imagine the way he’d flinched at your comment, wondering when the shy, sweet girl from his youth had become such a bitter woman.

Your eyes glued to the ceiling, and you imagined Kento there beside you, staring at you with a wistful smile while you merely blinked up at the white walls.

Gojo said your name again. Then he was tugging on your arm, and the clench around your heart unfurled, bringing you away from the desperate fantasy.

“Look at me,” Gojo said, and his words were harsher, exasperated, and you realized he’d been talking this entire time, minutes of one-sided conversation flowing in one ear and out the other.

“No, Satoru,” you growled, trying to resist, even though you didn’t have the strength. He pulled you to a seated position easily, forcing you to look at him once more, and never let go of your wrist. “Get out of my house.”

“Not until you talk to me.”

“Get out.”

“No.” Satoru stared at you, his eyes cold and unflinching, and for a moment, you realized just how fearsome he could be, why so many curses looked him in the eye and remembered that they didn’t stand a chance. Then, he blinked, and that image was gone, left with the picture of a broken man who had lost too many friends, and was trying not to lose you too. “You won’t talk to anyone; you won’t see anyone. You’re destroying yourself like this. I won’t let it go on any longer.”

The sympathy and disappointment in his voice disgusted you, and you recoiled with a renewed strength, slapping his hand away. “I don’t care if you want to be a hero now. You couldn’t help Kento, and you can’t help me. What good is being the strongest if you can’t even save the people that you care about?”

Gojo tensed, his jaw clenching like you’d slapped him across the face. That, at least, gave you some sort of satisfaction, even if it only lasted for a moment. A twinge of regret started, burning brighter and brighter until the weight of your comment came down on you.

There was a point to being angry at the world, to projecting your suffering onto strangers. They would never bear witness to every ounce of your misery. But Gojo had known you since you were a child, had cared about Kento too, and you were treating him no better than the curses that had killed the man you loved.

“Fine,” Gojo said more tersely. “I can’t help you. You have to want to help yourself, too.” He raked a hand across his face, revealing dark, purple circles, and sallow skin. The two of you were an ugly picture—the perfect personification of every struggle a jujutsu sorcerer could experience. “I just thought you’d want to know you still have a friend. Nanami and Haibara may be gone, and…” He looked away, mouth pulling down further. “Suguru, but I’m still here, you know?”

You swallowed, even though your lips were too parched to produce any saliva. They were cottony and stuck together as you spoke. “Don’t come back here, Gojo.” Though you swayed, lightheaded, you didn’t lay back down, only curled your knees into your chest, feeling small. “I don’t want to be a sorcerer anymore. I don’t want to remember any of it.”

Gojo hesitated, disappointed that his previous comment hadn’t hit as hard as he’d intended.

“What will you do, then?” he asked, his hands helplessly dangling by his side before he moved to sit beside you.

“Nothing.” The word felt like a punishment to say, even when that’s all you’d been doing, for days. Your life meant nothing anymore, so there was no point in trying. “I’ll forget I ever loved Kento Nanami and then I’ll disappear.”

Gojo’s face turned, his eyes narrowing, lips curling down. “No, you won’t.”

You almost came back with a childish retort—but it no longer seemed worth it. You turned back towards the window, wondering if it would rain soon. The sky looked like it might.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re the only person still alive who knew Nanami exactly as he was. There are people out there who cared enough about the both of you to not let you throw that all away.”

Guilt gnawed at you. Kento may not have ever respected Gojo for his decisions as a sorcerer, but deep down, he’d always known that he was a good man who tried to do right by everyone.

“What am I supposed to do, then?” you said, quietly at first, swallowing back the heavy emotions that weighed on you. Satoru watched you, never interrupting, though your pause was long and burdened. “I just want it to stop. It hurts so much, Satoru.”

“I know.”

“Everyone moved on like Shibuya never happened.” You twirled the ring around your finger as the heavy tears returned, ones that you’d thought had long been expelled. It seemed impossible that someone should be able to cry without end, yet, your grief was unrelenting, and your cheeks grew wet once more. “Everyone kept going, and I can’t do that. I can’t pretend like I didn’t lose my entire future. I’m never going to get married, Satoru. I’ll never be able to—”

You stopped, choked by your own emotions as a lump rose in your throat, sour like bile. It was the first time you’d said the words out loud. They tasted worse than they felt in your mind. You’d never be able to call Kento Nanami your husband.

Gojo’s eyes softened, and though he reached for you, you flinched away, swallowing over and over to bury your tears. Heaving breaths came, unsteady.

“Nanami wouldn’t want this for you.” It was cruel, too close to mockery to make you feel anything but anger.

You already knew that you were disappointing the man who loved you with every fiber of his being. The sight of you so weakened would wreck Kento, but you couldn’t get yourself to move out of the house. Not even when your skin yearned for a ray of sunlight, or your body screamed for something other than the stale convenience store snacks.

“Don’t say that. Kento’s not here anymore.” His name came out choked on your lips, the first time you’d said it since screaming it in misery. The word didn’t feel so much like love anymore. It was sorrow, wrapped into two tiny syllables. “What he’d want doesn’t matter.”

Satoru lowered his voice, treating you as fragile as you’d become, uncertain how to speak to someone who would never want to listen. “It does matter. He loved you so much.”

You covered your ears, squeezed your eyes shut. “Satoru, please. Stop it.”

“He’d want you to be happy—”

“I don’t care.” You spoke over his ramblings and pushed him away until you were certain he’d fall off the bed. Though, it did nothing to move him, strong and steadfast Satoru Gojo who would never be toppled. “You just don’t understand. I replay it over and over in my head, wondering why I wasn’t there, why you weren’t there.” You dropped your head in your hands, breathing into your palms like a paper bag. “It’s not fair.”

“Nothing’s fair.” Satoru said, the age-old cliché, a hand hesitant on your wrist. He was quiet when he said your name again. “I know how you feel.”

“No you don’t.” You slapped him away, even when he held strong, even when he let you see the anguish he usually hid away, let it erase the warmth from his expression.

You remembered dark long hair, kind brown eyes, a young man who had once held such a promising future. Two best friends that perhaps had been more, never sharing the secrets of their ill-fated bond.

“No, you don’t.”

Gojo was scooting closer, pulling you into his arms, the embrace tight, protective.

He was serious and sullen in a way that you hadn’t seen since Geto died. Gojo was a master at veiling his emotions in laughter, but it seemed now that your own emptiness was reflected back at you, the sheer desire to stop existing all at once.

“I know it better than anyone.” Nothing more than a whisper. The tears were too heavy and hot; there was nothing you could do to stop them. “You’re not alone.”

You were quiet for a moment, then another, before everything that you’d been feeling for the past two weeks crashed upon you like a wave, drowning you, and you were unable to breathe, clinging to Gojo like he was the only thing holding you above water.

You’d known Kento for ten years. You’d been strangers, friends, lovers parted by death before either of you had turned thirty, and though you weren’t the only person who had lost someone in Shibuya, you felt like the only one who was too weak to recover from it.

“Satoru.” Your voice broke. “I don’t know how to live without him.”

Gojo smiled. “You find a way.” Said so confidently, a man who’d been through it all before, and your heart shattered with sobs that came out uncontrollably, soaking Satoru’s shoulder.

Desperately, you clawed at his back, wishing you could wear his skin as a protective shield, could tear his heart out of his chest and trade it for your own, if only to gain an ounce of his strength. He held you tight in his arms, but nothing about him was the same, right down to the very blue eyes that had lost all their arrogance. Both had dimmed, and even the infinity within them seemed to end.

He didn’t smell like Kento, didn’t feel like Kento—but no one else had comforted you since he’d died, so you let him. Satoru kissed your forehead with an affection you’d already forgotten, reminding you to move on.

You never would.

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mangowafflesss · 6 months

Text

Ghostly Love | Ghost x Ghost!Reader

Summary: You’re a ghost that haunts the base and accidentally falls in love with Ghost.

Word Count: 4K+

★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★

Death is a funny thing, one day you’re alive and the next well… you’re not. You died miles and miles away from here but somehow you were tied to this place. You were hoping to be living your afterlife under palm trees, somewhere hot and sunny unlimited cocktails lying by the pool.

Sadly even when you die you still don’t have freedom. Which fucking sucks.

You roam the hallways of a military base, out of all places why here? It annoyed you at first but then you came round to the idea of scaring and possibly triggering these worn out soldiers. It was wrong, oh so very wrong for making someone scared when they’ve seen the depths of hell, but so have you in some way.

There wasn’t a pearly gate waiting for you or some hot sunken dungeon, just pure nothingness until you ‘woke’ up here.

Stalking the corridors was one of your favourite activities, you could trip over as many people as you could and they would think it’s their clumsy footing, idiots. You have a specific corridor you do it in and they always blame it’s uneven flooring due to everyone tripping there, but no it’s just you and your bored out mind.

People always suspect there’s ghosts that roam this base but when you realised they weren’t talking about you, it was sort of intriguing to hear.

Ghost. Who is he? What does he look like? And why have you not met him yet?

From what you gathered he’s a scary tall guy who wears a mask and oh, everyone is scared of him. It wasn’t uncommon to overhear someone’s juicy gossip about who’s scared of who and who’s fucking who. You’ve lost count how many times you’ve walked through a wall and someone’s pegging someone.

Ghost was interesting though, you needed someone new to suck the energy out of and maybe he’ll be your new person to torment.

It wasn’t until three days later at specifically three in the morning you bumped into him, well bumped is a strong word. He walked through your body and strode down your tripping hallway. Quickly chasing after him he turned around as he felt someone behind him, you continued to get ahead of him and jut out your foot.

He was coming your way and you concentrated on making a physical connection to do so. You watch in amusement as he trips and curses under his breath, it’ll never get old no matter how many times you do it. Hell, you’re here forever so might as well be entertained by it.

You continued to stalk after him, wondering what he’s doing up at this time and where he came from. You’ve been watching security cameras for most of the day chilling in the security room which to you is probably the worst smelling room.

Weird how ghosts can smell. Something you hate when you get an armpit to the face on the odd occasion.

The doors to the outside open and he gives a nod to one of the guards out there and pulls out a cigarette, oh how you miss smoking. Maybe it’s what led to your death but who knows and who cares, right?

He pulls the mask up above his nose and you stare at him in awe, he is really pretty, scars littered his pale freckled face and you reached out a hand to trace them, he blew out the smoke and wiggled his nose muttering something about the cold. Another downside of being dead, you’re always cold just like a corpse.

As you observed him you knew he was going to be different from the others you’ve observed, you started to smile as your heart started to swell, it’s weird how you still feel everything. Emotions, your heart? You’d think it would be as if you’re just empty but no, you’re still you. Unfortunately.

“What are you doing?” You nearly jump out of your skin and then sneer at the man next to you who is also watching Ghost with a curious expression. “Why are you here? Come to torment me again” you really hated this guy with your whole entire being.

“I came to visit of course!” He hits you on the back and you really wished ghosts could touch one another but unfortunately for you they can.”why? So you can rub it in you can leave again” you say pushing him and remaining where you stand.

“Oh come onnn have you even tried again?” You give him a look and he puts his hand up in surrender, of course you’ve tried. It’s a part of your daily routine at this point but you’re in some sort of barrier trapped around this forsaken place. Frowning you see the butt of the cigarette fall to the floor and it is stamped out with a boot, just like your hope.

“Okay okay I’m sick of seeing you this way so I asked around for you”

“About?”

“About you leaving here and travelling anywhere you want! Just like me” his arm was wrapped around your shoulder and he pointed to the sky to say that’s where your answers lie.

“Yeah right and how do I do that? Spin around in front of a mirror three times” you laugh and push his arm off you and walk away to try and find where your new obsession friend has gone.

“You need to form a connection with a human, people usually do it with their family because well they’re usually trapped in the homes of them so pick someone here and bond”

“And how am I going to do that?” The idea was ridiculous, there’s no way you’re going to be able to manage that “dunno kid, you'll figure it out though. I've got to go, good luck” and with that he walks away and disappears into the night air.

“Form a connection? Fucking unbelieveale” you grumble and continue your walk around the base for the thousandth time.

The next day you found Ghost in the shooting range, it was entertaining watching people shoot guns and he seemed to be very good at it. “Damn LT. didn't know you were back” you heard a whistle and a man you've seen plenty of times before come through the door.

Soap Mactavish is a man you've played pranks on before, his happy go lucky nature is often fun to mess with. Seeing him spooked out and cling to the nearest thing makes the deepest of sounds erupt from your body.

You stood in the corner watching until Ghost looked in your direction which made you freeze, can he see you? Does he possess the ability to see ghosts? You really hoped not…

His eyes rip away from you and over to the rack next to you. He was probably just looking at the guns not you, that would be silly,

“Seems different from last time I was here” his voice was gravelly and you kind of liked it, a sense of authority lurked in there.

“Aye, I think theres ghosts personally”

“Ghosts? Fuck off Johnny”

“What?! I'm being serious, ask anyone here they'll tell you about the paranormal”

Their conversation seemed to end there and you decided to stand next to them, if you were still alive you'd be intimidated by the size of their muscles. Reaching out to see how big Soap's arm is compared to your hand he flinches and shivers.

You retreat yourself from him as you know your presence causes a temperature change to the atmosphere, just like when you touched Ghosts face last night. Sighing, you lay on the ground, you were never going to get out of here even if you tried.

“You need to form a connection with a human”

“Shut up!” you were so angry at what he told you, not only does he pop in now and again to piss you off and brag about how he went to a different country. It seemed so easy to just go into a mirror and travel but no you’re spat back out like a talent show reject. “Why does this shit always happen to me” you groan to absolutely no one, you were alone here and most probably will be until this place is demolished.

Sulking on the floor you get a boot to the chest and look up to see Ghost standing there with his arms crossed over his chest. He was shouting something to someone and you sat up, your head was next to his leg and you saw a couple of guys fighting each other while being pulled away by Soap and another man.

As you are about to get up off the floor you look down and an idea pops into your head. Smiling to yourself you tie the man's shoelaces together and stand up before laughing in his face. “There can only be one ghost here” you say and walk away to terrorise the communication officers. You were on a schedule after all.

When you walk down the hall you hear a faint “Johnny!” and snicker while tripping someone over and flickering the lights.

A couple of days later you were doing your nightly run of the corridors trying to find someone to annoy until you remembered Ghost. Walking through each room you breeze past many sleeping soldiers or other things you wish to erase from your mind before finding Ghost.

He was sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands, his back looked so big from behind, large shoulders and thick muscles poked through his shirt. Creeping over you see his elbows resting on his thick thighs while something drips from his face.

The closer you got you could see the tracks of tears on his cheeks and immediately felt as if you should leave. But you don't, instead you sit on the ground in front of him with your legs crossed with a sympathetic look on your face. You wanted to reach out and comfort him but you couldn’t and sighed heavily.

He sobbed silently into his hands and you just watched. It was the only thing you could do at the moment. You wondered what horrors he's seen in his lifetime, probably way more than what you have that's for sure.

He leaned back and ran his hands down his face effectively wiping away the tears and opened his eyes. You watch as he looks at a piece of paper in his hand and you stand up from your spot on the floor. Moving to his side you sit down next to him and see the image of a little boy smiling as he lifts him into the air, the little boy is clinging to a football and it looks as if they’re in someone's back garden.

He looks at the photo with a solemn expression and sighs heavily. “I hope you’re having a good birthday up there Joe” he whispers before giving the photo a kiss and sliding it inside of a book that's on his pillow.

You purse your lips in thought and come to the conclusion that this Joe was dead. You wonder if you would ever be able to find him… a thought for another day.

You placed a comforting hand on his back knowing he wouldn’t feel it unless you focused really hard on doing so. His breathing relaxed and soon enough he leaned back on his bed, his head laying softly against the pillow as he stared at the ceiling.

You decided to retreat out of the room by walking backwards, you never really have to pay attention anymore until you actually bumped into something and alerted the awake man. “Shit, don't see me please don’t see me” you whisper while freezing on the spot, he doesn’t get up and instead lays back down mumbling something under his breath you couldn’t hear. Turning around you exit his room and leave him alone for the night.

A couple of nights later you found him still awake in his room sewing a hole up in his mask, you watched him carefully until he pricked his fingers over and over again. “Fucking hell this stupid mask” he grunts while throwing it onto the ground, he leaves the room with a different mask that covers half of his face and for some reason you bend down and pick the mask up off the floor.

Focusing on the task at hand you sew up the hole to the best of your abilities and when you’re done you manage to suck all of the energy out of the light bulb in his lamp. “Oops… oh well” you smile at your work but the mask slips through your hands and you frown “I guess that's all I can do for one night” the door opens and you jump to your feet to see the tall buff man walk back into his room. He unzips his jacket and a box of cigarettes falls out of his pocket but he just leaves them there and instead picks up his mask. He sees the thread has moved and narrows his eyes and checks his mask. When he sees the hole now sewn he looks around his room before putting it back where he keeps it and doesn’t question it.

“You're welcome I guess” you say sarcastically and see the man's shoulders tense, he turns slowly and soon enough a knife is thrown in your direction which makes you duck. “What the fuck?!” is what you say when you return back to your normal standing position, the knife is sticking out of the wall and you look from that back to the man who is closing in on you.

He reaches a hand out for your neck but his hand goes straight through and he looks even more confused. He throws punches in your direction but they all end up with his shadow boxing which makes you laugh.

“Please stop or you'll end up punching the wall” you say but you’re also shocked you even care about his well being. Weird.

“You need to leave”

“I don't think so. You see I'm a ghost and I technically can’t so I think I’ll do what I want” you give him a sickly sweet smile and he looks you up and down from head to toe and takes a step back.

“A ghost?” he chuckles while licking his lips “you're not a ghost, i've seen plenty of those”

“Believe it or not but I am, I mean who do you think tied your shoelaces together the other day” you laugh and he comes storming back over to you “That was you?!”

“The one and only” you take a bow and slowly realise this is probably the first conversation with someone alive in a long time. “But don't worry, i'll get out of your hair but i'll be back… whenever” with that you disappear through the wall no doubt leaving him confused.

You came back into his vision while he was smoking outside again, it wasn’t an unusual thing he did and when he saw you he visibly got annoyed and blew out the smoke harshly.

“Hey friend, fancy seeing you here” you elbow him and he moves away from you with a snarl. “Oh come on, can't we at least be friends, I need someone to tell all the gossip to!” you say swinging your arms up in the air.

“Gossip?” he raises an eyebrow and you begin to grin “Yes! You’re friends with that MacTavish guy right?” he scoffs before nodding reluctantly.

“Well he’s been fucking that blonde nurse Cassie for months and last night he called her Marrissa which is the other nurse he had a thing with a couple nights ago. And that's why he rocked up this morning with a black eye” you say nonchalantly while looking at the scenery around you which isn't much.

“That's why he was acting like a bitch all day, fucker deserves it” he laughs and you feel yourself feel lighter at the feeling. “Want me to tell you about the captain too?” he looks at you and then shrugs his shoulders. “If you want to” you smile brighter than a light and walk around the gravel in front of him telling him all the juicy details you could remember.

This happened on repeat, you meeting him outside at the dead of night while he smoked. You told him all of the secrets that are hidden in these walls while he listens and inputs any of his opinions into it.

Over time you realised you had feelings for him. It came out of nowhere, one day you were looking for him and remembered he left for a mission, you felt so lonely without him but it could just be the fact you got so used to his company.

“What's with the sad face chica?”

You look to your side and see the annoying face you wish you could burn. “What are you doing here again, it's a bit early don’t you think?”

“For your information it's been three months since I last saw you”

Three months? There is no way it's been this long and you didn’t know.

“Sooo how's that human? You were ogling the last time I was here”

“I wasn’t ogling him but if you must know we’re actually good friends”

“That’s great! He can help you get out of here” he says, clapping you on the back with joy but you didn’t feel like leaving at this moment in time.

The door to the outside opens and Ghost walks through the doors. You perk up and smile softly, maybe his mission ended quickly. You watch him lean against the brick wall as he usually does and pull out a cig from his pack. His mask lifts and his pale skin is shown under the moonlight.

“Have fun with your friend” you watch the ghost whose name you still don’t know walk away and then turn your attention back to Simon.

He had told you his name one night while you practically begged for it. You had tried to threaten him and say you’d never speak to him again but all he said was “I’ll finally have some peace and quiet”

Appearing to Simon he moves his eyes over to where you’re sitting on the small wall and nods to you.

“You're late, that’s unlike you” he says and you shrug your shoulders.

“Aren’t I always late, you know, because I’m dead?” He looks you in the eyes and smirks “Was that supposed to be a joke?” Shrugging your shoulders again you look away and look at the gates in the distance.

There was a moment of silence before Simons spoke up through the quiet night. “You’re not being annoying, what’s up with you?”

“Nothing”

“Bullshit. C’mon I thought we were supposed to be ‘friends’” he jokes and you hum while playing with your fingers.

“If I asked you to help me with something would you?”

He looked into the dark sky thinking for a moment before looking back at you “like what?”

“Help me leave here. I mean don’t get me wrong it’s nice to be surrounded by so many attractive people but-”

“You don’t have to explain yourself, I wouldn’t want to be stuck here either. I’ve spent most of my life in this lifestyle wouldn’t want to die and be trapped in this shithole forever”

“I guess not…”

“Is there something else bothering you”

“What happened to the Simon who hated me talking” you huff while watching the cigarette smoke spiral in the air.

There was a long stretch of silence before you stood and walked to him. “I guess I’ll miss you. That’s all”

“Really” he bluntly says and you just roll your eyes. “Wow at least say you’ll miss me back asshole” you say punching him in the arm.“Why? I know you’ll come back, you'll have a lot of gossip to catch up on” the comforting smell of the smoke makes you feel as if he's being sincere right now. He'll totally miss you.

“So, how am I supposed to help?”

“You'll actually help me?”

He gives you a nod and then you take an unnecessary deep breath. “Okay, let's do this!” you pump yourself up and shake your limbs.

Turning out your hands you put them in front of you with your palms facing upwards, “grab onto my hands” you prompt before his larger ones cover yours. Intertwining your fingers he gives you a curious glance before you whisper words under your breath. “Repeat what I just said okay?” you say and he follows your instructions.

You feel a shiver run up your spine and a tingly feeling flowing through your arms to where your hands are connected with Simons. Letting go, you tell him to follow you to a bathroom. He doesn't question it and simply follows.

Standing in front of a mirror you place your hand onto the smooth surface and push through, you've never actually gone through before so you were slightly nervous. Retreating your hand you look at Simon in the reflection and give him a shy smile “I’m scared” is all you say and he pulls his mask up and gives you a warm encouraging smile “Don’t be, go on, go through and be free”

Turning back to the mirror you enter it completely and the feeling was incredible, you were finally free. Poking your body out of the mirror you press a kiss to his now masked cheek “Thank you. I'll come visit soon!” you say excitedly and leave him alone in front of the bathroom mirror.

1 Month Later

Simon hadn’t seen you in a whole entire month. He didn't want to admit that he missed your stupid face or your company but he often wished every night when he took a step outside to have a smoke that you would appear with that annoying smile.

Looking up at the moon he blows out the smoke into the cold night air and shivers due to the extreme temperature drop. It was the middle of winter now and wondered if you were having fun, wherever you were.

“Hello stranger”

Whipping his head to the side he sees you standing there with your usual smile on your face. “Your back. Thought you'd be back sooner” this makes you laugh while walking closer to him, “Don't act like you didn't miss me”

“I bought a couple of people with me, if you don’t mind” he looks at you confused and then you bit your lip as two other figures appear from behind you.

“Tommy? Joseph?” he says, astonished as to what he's seeing. Removing his mask he sees his nephew and brother standing before him. You stayed behind them not wanting to disrupt their little reunion.

“Uncle Si!” the boy wraps his arms around Simon's legs and he bends down to greet him “How are you bud?” he looks at the features of him and he's exactly how he remembered him.

Tommy turns to you and gives you a smile “Thank you for helping us find him” you wave a hand in the air and shrug “No problem. I haven’t known him long but I could tell he needed this. I'm just glad I could find you if I’m honest- it's a very big world” Tommy laughs at this and you look back to where Simon currently is.

He looks at you and mouths a ‘thank you’ which you just nod at. Putting your hand on Tommy’s arm to gain his attention he looks at you again. “Have a good time with your brother, I’m glad I got to meet you”

You leave in the mist of the night and feel happy about what you did tonight. You'll be back soon enough for the gossip and probably a lecture about doing something like this for him, but you didn’t care. You'd do anything for Simon and wish him a good rest of his life.

THE END.

#Mangos Mythic Month🦇˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley

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bonny-kookoo · 8 months

Text

Jungkook

𝓣𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓒𝓪𝓻𝓮. [Closed Doors]

Jungkook makes decisions every day- but none has ever felt as hard to make as the decision whether or not to keep or leave you.

Tags/Warnings: Hospital/Medical AU, Doctor!Jungkook, slightly aged up!Jungkook, Hybrid!Reader, Dog Hybrid!Reader, another slightly heavy one but the comfort is strong with this hurt, angst, fluff, romance, strangers to lovers, blood, medical stuff, mentions of domestic (physical and mental) abuse, corruption, mentions of drug abuse, health scare²

Length: 2.3k Words, it's very tiny I'm very sorry

-> Masterlist

There is no taglist for this fic.

A/N: hi sorry I just really like this fic pls eat your vegetables

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"The little guy is recovering good." Namjoon nods. "But we'll have to inform child protective services, no matter if it was an accident or not.." He sighs, as Jungkook nods.

"I'm pretty sure it'll go well if it really was just that." He says. "I can't believe people just leave this stuff around when they know children eat any candy they see the moment they get the chance to." He shakes his head a bit angrily. "If that boy was a hybrid he'd be dead."

"Luckily he's not. I'll send the boy over to pediatrics, and as soon as that happens, he's out of our hands." Namjoon reminds his friend and coworker, as they both silently agree, walking through the hall. "How's your puppy doing?"

"Awake, and she's been transferred out of the ICU this morning, so I'm gonna check on her now and see how she's doing." Jungkook sighs, running a hand through his hair.

"Have you decided if you want to take her in yet?" Namjoon wonders, greeting a fellow doctor who's passing by.

"No." Jungkook shakes his head. "Not.. yet."

It's a touchy subject for now- so Namjoon leaves it alone- letting the doctor enter your new room on his own, to check up on you.

It's quiet inside, no nurse yet present- and Jungkook is actually a little thankful for the short, quiet moment he's got. Standing close to you, he lets his hand run over one of your soft ears- now cleaned and fur soft and vibrant in color. It's something Jimin had informed him about yesterday- how you cried from happiness after he'd helped you properly clean your ears and tail, something that appeared to be very much unfamiliar and new to you.

It angers him, to know that you were nothing but something to show off until now.

So many of your health problems could've been avoided if you just had received any amount of proper care and attention. Yoongi already suspects that you might have developed some behavioral issues from the way you've been living until now- all that, combined with your physical troubles will take weeks if not months to resolve. If they ever resolve fully at all, that is.

Not that Jungkook really cares. He'd take you in even if you were to bite and scratch.

But it's not that easy, and he knows this. "Hello?" He carefully says as his hand shakes your shoulder gently. "Can you wake up for me for a moment?" He requests, and your eyes slowly open, squinting at the bright hospital lights, before you stretch- and hiss at something cramping. "Good morning." He greets you- and suddenly you seem to realize who's there- and your tail begins to wag under the blanket, ears turned towards him as you smile. "How do you feel, hm?" He wonders, but you don't answer.

It's to be expected. All of these traumatic events must've taken a toll on you- not just physically.

"Well you're looking a lot better already, that's for sure." Jungkook tells mostly himself, though he smiles when he spots you taking the praise for yourself as well. It gives him a moment just to quietly look at you; imagine what life could be like if someone like you was to wait for him inside his apartment, every day whenever he'd come home from work.

Surely, you'd turn his apartment into a home in no time. The thought of just a little more chaos inside his living space, a little more of a mess here and there, a bit of disorder in his life, might just be what could color his life a little more vibrantly. Make things more exciting, more emotionally valuable- maybe it could even make his life less about work, and more about..

well, living.

You're yawning, and he laughs, train of thought broken as he pets your head teasingly, before the door opens, and a very chipper Jimin walks in. "Ah, there's my favorite person!" He sings almost, walking in to put the small tray of food down, before he looks at Jungkook. "And you too, Doctor Jeon."

"Well thank you." Jungkook jokes, before he watches as Jimin opens the tray, revealing some light soup and rice for you to eat. It's only a small portion- just to slowly ease you back into eating, and not overwhelm you again. He notices how attached you seem to what he recognizes is an empty pillowcase of all things you seem to cling to, probably for comfort, taken from your first room you occupied. It's another problem- you now have no one to bring you any clothes or comforting items into hospital at all.

You're alone, all by yourself.

And for some reason, the realization of that small fact hits him hard.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

It's been not even a full 24 hours, and you're already causing mischief.

"There you are!" Jungkook sighs, relieved to have finally found you near a vending machine two floors away from where you should be- which is in your room, in your bed. You, meanwhile, are just simply smiling at him, tail wagging at the sight of him crouching down to you to pet your head. "Come on now, you gave the poor nurses a near heart-attack by vanishing like that." He gently scolds, before he stands back up to his full height, reaching for your hand.

But you just let yourself fall to your side, stubborn. Tail still wagging, smacking onto the smooth floor.

"Got yourself a troublemaker, huh doctor Jeon?" An older nurse laughs, watching the interaction between the hybrid specialist and you while she prepares a cart with food trays for the patients. The news of Jungkook's interest in maybe adopting you permanently has made it's round quite quickly by now- mostly thanks to Jimin, who's the unofficial news reporter of every bit of gossip there is.

Jungkook sighs. "Seems like it." He chuckles, unable to really be upset with you, considering how glad he is to see you up and running again instead of pale and fighting in the ER. It's as if you finally realized that in here, no one actually wants to hurt you. No one blames you. No one is mad at you. You're actually being cared for here- you can truly be yourself, and no one's gonna get upset over it.

And slowly, Jungkook starts to see your true personality- which does help in his decision whether or not you'll fit into his life, or not. He's not made one yet- the papers are still at home, on his desk in his office, unsigned.

It's a tough decision to make, after all.

On one hand, sure; he really likes you, you seem absolutely sweet and also independent enough to stay at home by yourself if he goes by all of your documents, which included general assessment of your overall intelligence and social capabilities. You're a bit of an odd case- while your instincts are very strong, your hybrid features very well developed, and your overall behavior shows habits and reactions similar to a hybrid much higher on the scale, you do know how to properly process situations in a more human way.

For example; Loud noises startle you, but they don't make you panic. Food and snacks make you excited, but they're useless as bribery if you don't want to do something. You can read, write, and are educated to a very good degree, and you understand social cues without any issues.

But on the other hand, Jungkook isn't a man with endless patience. He gets frustrated easily, especially with himself- so what if he snaps at you on accident? Will you understand that he doesn't mean it badly, and that it's not even directed at you? And what about when he has to work- will you be lonely in his home, unhappy but too nice to actually tell him? He doesn't want you to just waste away while he's too focused on his career. It's something important for him, after all- he can't just quit and call it a day.

Even if you were to say that you don't need the attention, or the affection, or constant care or anything at all- he'd still feel bad for not providing it anyways. Because you deserve it. You deserve someone who can love you each day properly, someone who doesn't have to push you to the back every time his job has to take priority.

He's not sure what decision to make.

Or if there's even a choice at all.

Suddenly, you're pulling on his shirt to get back his attention- probably because he started to look mad while thinking. He knows he does this- it's why he usually turns away from patients whenever he has to think about something, which makes his face look upset. "I'm not mad." He reassures you, smiling again, petting your ears again while you watch him with suspicion. You're currently in a different headspace, regressing after all the stress and honestly rather traumatic events, which makes communication a little difficult- but everyone manages, since you're quite expressive in other ways, able to tell what you want and think either way.

Jungkook wants to take care of you- he wants to take you home, and make sure you're happy forever, but he can't be selfish, or too fast with his decision.

"Now come on, it's lunch soon. You hungry?" He asks, and you nod, tail wagging as you stand up alongside him, hand holding onto his shirt as you walk next to him-

and this time, he decides to cave in a little, as he instead holds your hand in his while walking back to your room with you.

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Jungkook likes to play music in his apartment, even if it's just quiet.

It fills the space with noise, makes him feel less lonely, takes his mind off of things. It helps relax. But tonight, it doesn't really work, as he sits in his office, sighing as he looks at the unsigned paperwork still on his desk in front of him. He's read through all the documents more than twice now, knows what's written down, what information it all gives out to him- and yet, he's unsure what to do with it.

If he signs it, you'll be given to him for a foster time first- three weeks of 'trying it out' so to speak, to see if you're a good fit for him, and if he's a good fit for you. During that time, a careworker will visit randomly to check up once or twice, and at the end of it, it's you both who have to agree to an actual permanent registration. But Jungkook worries, he always does.

The thing he worries most about, is the fact that he feels like he's already in too deep. There's a small, pink and white plush toy in his lap after all, bought yesterday straight after work from a store specializing in hybrid clothing and other items. It's a comfort plush that holds scents very well, so he keeps it close to his body ever since buying it to offer it to you tomorrow morning when he's back in hospital to check up on you.

And yes, he has been browsing what a dog hybrid of your specific breed might need to live a happy life. He might also have looked up options for sports or other activities you might want to do-

he's really in deep, isn't he?

He sighs yet again, scratching his head in frustration after he puts down the pen, staring at the 'signature here' spot at the bottom. It could all be so easy, but he really doesn't want to fuck this all up.

He knows from Taehyung, an anesthesiologist and good friend, that having a hybrid can actually work out perfectly. He's balancing it just fine, his own hybrid at home happy and healthy, his work never suffering, his happiness thriving. The young medical worker always shows off pictures of him and his hybrid, proudly, and he really has every reason to be, considering where she came from.

But Jungkook also knows how tough it can be.

He's reminded of it every time he checks up on Yoongi and his cat hybrid- now awake, but clearly in distress over her lack of control over her own body, and it's going to be a long road to recovery for her and Yoongi just as much. He knows they'll get through it- but the amount of heartbreak and absolute terror that went down just scared Jungkook, straight up.

And he knows, your future together is absolutely going to be both of those scenarios- good, and bad.

"What's the worst that can happen.." He hums to himself, one hand playing with the fuzz of the comfort plush in his lap, little black eyes staring blankly at him, tiny mouth curved into a forever smile.

You deserve a happy future. You deserve to have opportunities, and care, and affection, and a stable environment you can rely on, and thrive in. And he won't ever really gain the knowledge of that happening if he's not the one providing that for you.

And yet, the doubts are still there, clouding his mind.

What's he going to do?

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #hybrid imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook imagines #bts jeon jungkook imagine

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whiteirisif · 4 months

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"Living with yourself is hard. Living without yourself is even harder."

Demo (release date: when the time is right)

Part One: Memories of the Phoenix

Intro: In this world, magic is split in two, no longer something one individual could wield all on their own. Instead, the art is now divided and shared between those who write spells on enchanted talismans and those who unleash the power. From this discovery, the roles of Casters and Enchanters were born. This brings us to Nanta, the ever-bustling port city near the shores of Fen – known as the sea of stars – that is home to many who seek knowledge rather than fish. Some claim that it's the epicentre not only of trade but also magic across the continent of Yulan, and they're right. Stationed on its hills is the proud Academy of Dives, which houses thousands of children and young adults of all upbringings and social standing, teaching them the art of either enchanting or casting.

You are one of those lucky students - a caster with the highest magical strength across the entire Academy paired with an equally impressive enchanter to write talismans for you. Life handed you the easiest path to glory on a silver platter.

So, what was preventing you from dominating the world at the tender age of fourteen?

Merely the fact that you want none of it.

Features:

Play as a depressed kid in a fantasy world filled with magic. It's not the best place to have mental issues. Either you or the world will have to adapt.

Try to change your bad habits - wake up on time and attend classes like everyone else. You could even show up to write the midterm exam! Or succumb to the endless cycle of running away from your problems. There's no shame in that, only consequences.

Meddle with the life of another student and help them decide their fate. You could even stop an ancient ritual from happening if you're lucky.

Mend or worsen the relationship between you and the enchanter assigned to you. Just how deep does his patience run?

Characters:

Nadir - Enchanter

Nadir is your enchanter and the first-ever friend you made after arriving in the Academy, though you doubt he shares your opinion. He is everything a student should be and everything you are not. Even though you both share a rare gift, only one of you appreciates it, which often leads to arguments between you.

Shuli - Enchanter

Shuli is your beloved roommate. She agreed to stay behind with you in the abandoned dorms, which has made your life easier. Her kindness and patience towards you knows no bounds, and when you squint, you can almost see a shining halo on top of her head. If you hadn't seen her beat up a bunch of thieves with her bare hands, you, too, would be fooled into thinking of her as someone on the weaker side.

Eris - Caster

Eris is called ‘The Darling of the Academy’ due to being everyone's favorite despite being quite the troublemaker. You even heard that so far they never lost in a single popularity contest due to their beautiful doll-like face, but that is pretty much all you know about them. That is, until - all of a sudden - they start randomly approaching you all the time.

Other Characters:

Sol & Leto

Leto and Sol - the inseparable duo with completely opposing personalities. Sol glares at people like she never had a peaceful day in her life - while Leto is a walking cloud full of smiles. People wonder how these two get along so well. You may find the answer to that soon enough.

Kara

Kara is the spirit you bonded with when you were seven. He is the closest thing you have to a family.

Gias

A carefree soul that also happens to be a teacher. Gias is a mysterious person, and you suspect they know more than they let on.

Not recommended for people that don't like:

Slice of life, age progression - or who want to play a touch-averse or a completely blank mc

Credits:

Help with the intro post @unsanctioned-if

#interactive fiction #work in progress #no demo #twine wip

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booksandpaperss · 11 months

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the fact that Arthur is canonically fully aware of how people keep betraying him and still incredibly trusting at the same time really fucks me up. do you think he ever wonders if it’s his fault entirely? if he’s just inherently not worth any sort of loyalty from those he loves, even though arthur loves so deeply. he loved Morgana so much and when she betrayed him he still loved her, despite Morgana’s betrayal he trusted Agravaine even when he had reason to suspect he shouldn’t because Arthur loved Agravaine too and above all else Arthur is loyal to those he loves. Arthur loved Mordred, and in the end it was that love that made Arthur hesitate to fight Mordred, that love is what killed him. Arthur loved Gwen and even she betrayed him, it wasn’t her choice and Arthur knew it but I’m sure he still felt the sting of another betrayal when he first found out. a slight seed of doubt was probably planted that day.

Arthur loved and trusted Merlin. no matter how many times Arthur was betrayed he never once, in their entire decade of friendship, even conceived the idea that Merlin would betray him. that idea was so utterly off the table for Arthur that in that one episode he was poisoned, as soon as he found out Merlin got blamed for it Arthur actually thought it was funny and had Merlin released immediately with absolutely zero doubt in his mind. Merlin knew Arthur trusted him this way and Arthur knew Merlin knew…

and yet when Arthur found out even Merlin had betrayed him in a way, despite all his other betrayals he still found it in himself so easily to understand Merlin, realize why Merlin had done it, realize that Merlin was the only one who had betrayed Arthur to help him instead of hurt him, and forgive and appreciate Merlin because above all else, Arthur is loyal to those he loves (and there’s perhaps no one Arthur loves more than Merlin).

Arthur loves and loves and loves, but from his perspective that love consistently was never enough. not for his father, not for Morgana, not for Agravaine, not for Mordred…

But it was enough for Merlin. It was more than enough for Merlin. Merlin’s betrayal was because he loved Arthur, not in spite of it, and Arthur was able to recognize that in his last moments.

Arthur loves and trusts to his own detriment, but Merlin was probably one of the first people to show Arthur that his love meant something beyond the superficial “I love you too”, that Arthur’s love was worth something, that Arthur was worth something.

#yes I wrote this random analysis in class what abt it #bbc merlin #merthur #bbc merthur #arthur pendragon #bbc arthur #elli talks bbc merlin

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eff4freddie · 15 days

Text

Touch | Part Two

Words: 2.7k

Part one | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

You have no intention of messing with the stability you have discovered in Jackson. But whatever higher power is still up there twenty years after the end of the world has other plans.

Warnings: slow burn, post-outbreak, Joel Miller is a grump and a menace, no use of y/n, eventual smut but not in this chapter, I still have no idea how many parts this will be but I’m feeling six maybe?

Maria’s words ringing in your ears, you resolved to stay away from Joel and his not-quite-adopted daughter. Having become accustomed to defending the things that mattered to you, you found yourself protective of this little community your dad would have dismissed as communist had he had the chance to see and unfairly judge it. Sleeping without your boots on, your feet rubbing over the bare cotton tucked up in blankets, had been a pleasure you had finally remembered how to enjoy.

Marla, though. Marla has always had a flare for the dramatic and surprisingly poor judgement for someone who has lived this long through the end of the world. She was a literal child on outbreak day, as opposed to your wisened 16 years, and you suspected she may have stopped developing around that point. Her complete lack of maturity, her ability to wonder blindly into abject terror just to unblinkingly fight her way out of it, was endearing so long as there weren’t clickers on the edge of the tree line. She had decided your tendency to isolate was ‘making you weird’ and every lunch time for the last four days had arrived on your front step to march you down to the mess hall. You suspected the real reason was to check out the newcomers, under the cover of altruism. You respected her tenacity, even as you resented her for it.

Four and a half days into her crusade to integrate you into any available social group, she waved a spoon in front of your face.

‘This is no good,’ she assessed, gesturing to your eyes, then your bottom lip. You sucked it in between your teeth and reminded yourself she had been the one hauling you over the sides of mountains to get you here.

‘Be more specific,’ you said and she grinned.

‘You don’t smile when you’re in here, your eyes go all squinty,’ she observed.

You felt something click in your jaw and you reached up to push hard on the condyle, the masseter tight as a bow string.

‘Just so many people,’ you said, pushing your stew around in your bowl. ‘It doesn’t make you nervous?’

‘I go through that gate most days of the week,’ Marla replied, her tone passive but somehow assuring. ‘The way Tommy runs it, no-one’s getting through that check point with anything less than a Nobel peace prize.’

Out of the corner of your eye you watched as Joel offered his left overs to his daughter, the two of them sitting alone at the end of a nevertheless crowded table. He sat hunched, favouring his right side, his arm tucked in hard against his ribs. If he leant too far over in the wrong direction he grimaced, and you noticed this all in the fleeting glances you allowed yourself while Marla forced you to ingest first your stew, and then her gossip.

‘What do you know about them?’ you asked, cringing when Marla turned her full body to peer in their direction. It wouldn’t have surprised you if she pulled binoculars out of her cargo pants to get a better look.

‘Him and Tommy spent a lot of time apart, when Tommy was a firefly.’

You sucked air into your lungs, sure for a moment they had just collapsed.

‘He’s not anymore, not for a long time,’ Marla defended. ‘He didn’t…he doesn’t follow their philosophy.’

‘You’ve been talking to Maria,’ you observed. She started plucking at the skin around her fingernails. You smiled at her, warmth in your voice. ‘Ray not the only one doing reconnaissance?’ And you rolled your r for dramatic effect, and because sometimes you could be quite funny, actually.

Marla grinned, busted. ‘It’s. It’s important for me to know, when I’m on patrol it’s about protecting? People? So I need to know about…the people.’ You wanted to give her a standing ovation, the bullshit was so exceptional. Instead you lifted a hand to her shoulder, sent affection down your arm and under your palm, where you hoped you deposited it into her muscle.

‘Maria’s not a fan,’ you said, and watched Marla acknowledge this fact, then make her way around it.

‘He’s different to Tommy, I guess. She’s made her preferences clear.’

You let that sit for a second. You thought about telling her what Maria had said, keeping his daughter in the dark, but you felt a need to keep the seed unwatered, not to throw it any fertile ground.

‘He’s hot,’ you confirmed, simply, and she blushed.

‘He is though?’ She grinned. ‘I’m going to ask Tommy to swing him onto my patrol.’

‘He patrols?’ You asked, alarmed, noting again the way he was so stiff on his right side as he pushed his chair back behind him.

‘He’s a protector,’ she replied, and you both watched as he stood from the table, waited for his daughter to follow, then shuffled off alone and away. ‘Like me,’ Marla finished, reaching for your unfinished stew.

—

You knew, in this new world you all now made the best of, that curiosity was a dangerous thing. Remembered the young boy from two apartments down who wanted to see the sun fully set without dipping behind walls. The girl who thought the FEDRA soldier with warm green eyes might have been a softie under all the armour, all the hardship. The kid who wanted to understand why the fence was humming, and put his hand out to see what would happen. Curiosity was a dangerous, tricky, deceitful thing in a world already lousy with nasty surprises. You kept your head down and your mouth shut, and it had got you this far. You would have to be perfectly happy not knowing anything about Tommy’s older possibly homicidal but kind of limpy on one side brother. That was your plan.

It, too, failed almost immediately. It wasn’t fate or divine intervention that delivered him to you, it was Tommy, on your front porch with Joel over his shoulder, Tommy’s smile bright and benevolent and Joel’s grimace trained solely on your doorstep.

‘Evening’, Tommy said, and not for the first time you imagined him in a cowboy hat just so he could dip it to you like a gentleman. ‘You met my brother?’

You shook your head, having apparently swallowed glue sometime between opening the door and this moment.

‘He’s grumpy and he’s hurt,’ Tommy continued, undeterred by his older brother’s scoff of disapproval. ‘Not necessarily in that order.’

‘Hurt how?’ you asked, stepping forward before remembering yourself and immediately stepping back.

‘Not hurt at all,’ Joel said, and his voice was so much softer than you imagined, a gentle rumble, that carried with it years of struggle. You tried with every atom on your skin to stop the goosebumps. Failed.

‘Not recent, but acting up. The cold. The walkin’ Tommy continued. ‘Maria said you work miracles, so thought I’d give you the devil’n see what you can do.’

You smiled at Maria’s assessment, wanting to ask after her but sensing from the pure recalcitrance leeching off Joel that it would be the thing that finally made him turn and march home.

Instead you stepped aside, gesturing into the warmth of your home. Tommy smiled again, whacked Joel on the shoulder and down your front steps. ‘Behave,’ he called out behind him, to which his brother very purposefully did not respond.

You realised as soon as he was in it that your house suited Joel. It was a little shabby, a lot rough around the edges, but it smelt like warm wood and furniture oil and you’d tried to keep things ordered for the sake of appearances. He stopped in the entryway, his eyes swivelling from your lounge room to the bedroom doors, and you stepped forward and around him to get to your treatment room. ‘In here,’ you said, and turned your back so you wouldn’t see if he’d rolled his eyes at you. You felt him approach behind you, heard a floorboard creak as if it sang just for him, and held your breath.

‘The hell is that?’ he asked, and you turned to see him pointing at your apocalyptic massage table.

‘You get in the middle, the towels hold you up,’ you said, seeing it now through his eyes and dying inside, just a little.

‘Ain’t getting on that,’ he said, plainly. ‘Thing’ll collapse and take us both with it.’

You sighed. He was hot but he was also annoying. He was a perfect match for Marla.

‘You haven’t even said where you’re hurt,’ you said, and he stopped you.

‘Ain’t hurt.’

‘Where Tommy thinks you’re hurt,’ you said. You watched him cock his knee out to the side, shifting his weight to one leg and standing with his hands on his hips. He seemed bigger than the room could possibly withstand. His jaw tensed as he thought.

‘Shoulder,’ he said eventually, having apparently assessed that divulging this information wouldn’t likely result in instant death.

‘I can do your shoulder in a chair,’ you offered, and immediately regretted your choice of words. He raised his eyebrow.

‘Chair any less collapsible?’ he asked.

‘Not at all. But you’ll have less distance to fall,’ you said, and his eyes sparkled ever so slightly when he laughed.

Except that the kitchen was smaller than your treatment room and somehow you’d never noticed it, and with the table and chairs in the centre of the room suddenly it felt like Joel took up all the space. You contemplated this as he shuffled around you, how Maria at nearly eight months gone could feel petite in comparison. You realised you hadn’t seen her at the mess hall for a few days, that you should check on her.

‘I gotta take my shirt off?’ Joel muttered, with his back turned to you. When you didn’t immediately answer he turned to look at you over his shoulder, and where you thought you’d see ridicule you saw only a guarded vulnerability. For a second. Before he turned away.

‘Have you never had a massage?’ you asked, and he sat heavy down on the chair.

‘Not really my thing,’ he said, in such a way that did not engender any follow up questions.

‘You don’t have to take it off’, you said. ‘Whatever you’re more comfortable with.’

You realised then he had already decided, settled as he was with his back to you and his hands resting in his lap. He closed his eyes, almost as though he was bracing himself.

‘Go on then,’ he said.

You glanced at the ceiling. Events of the last twenty years already had you pretty much convinced there was no higher power, but in this moment you appealed to it, regardless. You had no idea what had your heart racing so fast. You flexed your fingers to try and get them to steady before you touched him.

His right shoulder was indeed tight, but you knew almost immediately that wasn’t where the pain was coming from. Over his flannel you felt along the clavicle, up to the back of his neck, swept down across his scapula. When you reached further, down towards his waist, he shifted, clearing his throat. You pulled back.

‘Said shoulder,’ he said. At this you rolled your eyes, finally having enough of the man who you were helping for free being gruff in your own kitchen. At least Maria made you tea when she came over.

‘It’s all connected,’ you said, prodding perhaps a little more roughly at his deltoid. ‘You need to think of your body like a series of links in a chain. One gets weak and the rest of them up and down from it have to compensate.’

‘Mmm,’ he replied, and you weren’t sure how but he made it sound dismissive. You felt heat on your cheeks.

‘The shoulder doesn’t just mean here,’ you said, putting your hand on the expanse of his shoulder blade. ‘Shoulder pain can be neck, jaw, back.’

‘You go to school for this?’ He asked, changing the subject.

‘I did yeah, before… Before.’

You took a step closer, repositioning yourself so that you could take his wrist in your hand and hold his arm forward, over his chest. With your other hand you pushed into the rhomboid, felt the push back of the muscle as it fought you to release.

You realised, after several seconds of holding him, that you were basically hugging him from behind. You wondered if he could feel your breath on the back of his neck. You wondered if he liked it. This close you could smell the soap he used, the sweat on the back of his neck mingling with the warmth of his cotton shirt. You released him, tension now effectively transferred from his body to yours, and he let out a long exhale.

‘You favour this side,’ you said, before you’d really thought about it.

‘Do I?’ He asked. ‘You notice things like that?’ In that moment you were glad to be behind him, so that he couldn’t see the blush storming up your cheeks.

You set upon his trapezius, then, digging your fingers into his flesh, found it more pliable than his shoulder. You heard his sharp intake of breath.

‘Tender?’ you asked, but he didn’t answer other than to grunt. You continued, suddenly realising you were dangerously close to running your hands through his hair and worse, wanting to.

He hissed then, and you stopped. ‘Sorry,’ you said, automatically, and he pushed your hand away, but not unkindly.

‘Was carrying some wood on it,’ he said, reaching up himself to poke and prod at the tender spot. ‘Tommy was there, saw me tryin’ta be a hero. Called me out on it, said I don’t know my age.’

‘Sure you weren’t showing off for the sake of your little brother?’ you asked. He grinned.

‘Not for him, but maybe for the other guys gathered round helpin’.

You put your hand on his left shoulder as you came around in front of him, pushing the table out of the way with your hip as you went. ‘Here, I just need to…’ you said, as he pushed his chair backwards to make space for you, and you used his good shoulder as an anchor when you pivoted to turn back towards him. He looked up at you, big brown eyes underneath arching brows. You saw his hands lift from his lap as if to steady you, as if to grab you by the hips and grind you down on his cock.

You swallowed. Took a second to wonder where that had come from, before you lifted your hands to his right arm and folded it again in front of him. ‘Just need to get a better angle,’ you explained, almost under your breath now that you were facing him, and he nodded quickly at you. For a moment he just gazed up at you, and you felt more naked than if he had stripped you down right there in your kitchen. You felt relief when he closed his eyes.

‘So when you say carrying some wood…’

‘Three planks, not heavy just awkward. Used to be able to do it easy.’

You cupped his trapezius, easier to get to from the front, and gently lifted the muscle up with a squeeze. Close to him like this, his face level with your chest, you felt more than heard the rush of his air as he gasped. His eyes flew open and shot straight to yours, his mouth dropping open in surprise.

You wanted to lean down and suck on his bottom lip. You felt the tremble return to your hands. A synapse, firing off randomly somewhere behind your earlobe, reminded you when the client was in pain to keep them talking. You swallowed twenty years worth of ache, and cleared your throat.

‘You a carpenter?’ you asked, and for some reason thought of Jesus, and of Joel wrapped in a loin cloth, and of nailing yourself to the cross if you couldn’t fucking get your shit together.

‘I was a contractor,’ he said, closing his eyes now that you were no longer actively torturing him.

‘What are you now?’ you asked, feeling a click under your fingers as the joint finally settled. He exhaled, the relief causing him to finally relax just a little, his whole frame leaning forward toward you, such that you worried his head would collide with your breast.

‘Old,’ he said, after a beat.

‘All fixed,’ you said, taking a step back and colliding inelegantly with the kitchen table. Later, after you’d refused any and all payment and he had promised to owe you a favour regardless, after you’d walked him to the front door and shown him out, after you’d gone into your treatment room and stood staring at your massage table as if it had any answers, you went and stood in the doorway to your kitchen. The table was still askew, the other chairs dangerously close to scuffing the walls. Your gaze lingered, though, on the chair where he had just been. You found yourself reluctant to move it, wanting to sit down in it to try and keep his warmth. You laughed at yourself, wondered what Marla would say, tried to practice how you could tell her the story at lunch tomorrow.

You flicked the light off before you went to bed. You’d move the chair back tomorrow. Maybe.

#pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller #no y/n

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fairydares · 21 days

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loook i get why the idea of riding the "anti/pro" fandom disk horse makes people gag a little in their mouth and try to opt out entirely, but here's why i went from feeling exactly the same way to taking a firm profiction stance. I've been meaning to make this post for a while.

~10 years ago, I posted a fic for the first time and it got its own harassment campaign. The fic wasn't even sexual, and wasn't going to be (it remains incomplete). It was accurately rated T on fanfiction.net. Anyone in the Fairy Tail fandom will understand this: I literally got harassed for writing a "Lucy leaves the guild" fic💀.

After many nice comments, someone left a pretty nasty one. Hurt, I messaged them back. They acted super attacked that I'd responded (lmao) and after we argued, threatened to "rip my shitty story apart in the comments section" if I responded again. I told them "go ahead lol."

They went ahead.

Now know that it was a relatively small harassment campaign, but at the time, it was devastating. Right around then, I wound up in the hospital. After I got out, I went to excitedly check my fic, and found several reviews saying things I wouldn't repeat to my worst enemy. I was suicide-baited more than once, told "thank fuck you finally abandoned this shitty story, dumb cunt," stuff like that.

There were several accounts involved, and I can't say for sure, but I suspect at least a couple different people were involved, though probably at least half of it was one person.

All the other comments were screeching about how I hadn't updated, mostly. "NO UPDAAATEE WHY DOES THIS ALWAYS HAPPENS TO MEEEE??!!!" was one that stood out after I'd been miserable in a hospital for an extended period of time.

Idk what people think is going on when FT fic authors write this trope, and frankly I don't give a fuck. Because while I was partly writing the story out of some young, cringe feminist rage, I also did genuinely have a real story I was compelled to tell. I was inspired by another, popular fic I loved which used the trope to talk about how trying to shoulder our burdens alone really just hurts both ourselves and everyone who cares about us.

My own story was ultimately going to have similar themes, with more focus on strength, what it means, and in what contexts earning and having it actually matters. In retrospect, no wonder I wound up in hot water, because at the time "Lucy vs. Strength vs. Misogyny" was the FT fandom's Designated Nonsensically Activist Debate™. But that's partly why i wanted to write about it; engaging with the fandom had gotten me thinking about it 🤷‍♂️

Not too long after that, FFNet oh-so-benevolently granted us the ability to delete comments from our own stories (they never took my reports seriously at all, afaik). I deleted all or most of the harassers' comments (may still be a one or two up, and i'm fairly sure there's a couple comments defending my fic from the harassment) without saving screenshots, which I really regret now. I was just so mortified and full of self-loathing about the whole thing that i wanted to forget it completely. Something that had brought me joy at a very lonely, vulnerable period of my life had turned so negative, and i couldn't even tell the people closest to me about it without being made fun of for writing anime fan fiction.

I didn't understand why this happened at the time, but--after a period of trying to forget/bid out of it all with a slight anti lean (a common approach I see people use, and one which I'm not proud of adopting)--I just had to figure out What the Fuck Even Happened There. And I'm telling you, after years of reflecting, wrestling with both sides, and educating myself, that this "status quo of harassment" culture which pervades fandom goes way deeper than you think and comes out of a way darker well than you probably realize. An astonishing amount of this is, quite literally, TERF shit and evangelical shit.

Trying to be in fandom and take a stance of, "Anti/Pro shit? Ew, I'm Not Touching that," is like swimming in a heavily polluted river and being like, "Poison? Cringe. Not me lol."

You might be lucky enough to be in a less-polluted part of the river (AKA a relatively non-toxic fandom, in which case good for you!)...but tbh this rhetoric and peer-signalling will still seep in.

I can't stress enough that pro-fiction, AKA "proship", is the normal, leftist-about-art-and-sex opinion. Pro-ship is against all the horrible things you're against; in fact, pro-ship isn't trivializing real trauma by equating it with fictional trauma, or trying to apply literal evangelical/radfem solutions--which are proven not to prevent or help. Profiction/proship is literally just saying, "Fiction is fiction, reality is reality, and the two don't have a 1:1 relationship. And historically, trying to censor just things we've decided are bad has done nothing but get LGBTQ+ and POCs censored. Therefore, depictions of illegal things shouldn't be censored." That's it. "Proshippers all ship problematic ships," is a brazen lie. Many of them share other fans' disgust for those ships, they just don't believe in censoring fic authors over it.

It is also taking a stand against harassment because--and I hope my own story has helped drive this home--as with all groups who adopt ingroup/outgroup thinking, antis are defined by their tactics, not actual stances on real, serious issues. What happened to me was absolutely a result of anti, "it's okay to 'bully out' anything I just don't like" mindset pervading fandom. In a way, this was the mindset's final form. They didn't even feel the need to cite a reason the trope was "bad" or "wrong"; it annoyed them, and they viewed their own feelings as a valid enough pathway for policing to go right ahead and do so.

In the interest of offering solutions instead of just bitching about problems, I might make a "how to know if you've bought into these types of views"-type post sometime. Also might come back to this and provide some sources/citation.

#cw harassment #tw suicide-baiting #tw hospitalization #posts i actually wrote #fairy tail #nalu #fandom #fandom meta #proship #pro fiction #anti-censorship

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freestyle-crocodile-trashpile · 1 year

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can I request a m!reader with Task Force 141, (feel free to add any other group if you w) very angsty…..I NEEF THE ANGST OK???? PLS

the m!reader gets placed into the 141, just being a very joyful and playfully sarcastic person all around that everyone can get along with well. M!reader suffers from depression and is very good at masking it, putting up a really strong facade and front. He is pretty introverted and extroverted, he can be very active but also clammy and avoidant at times when he is asked personal questions, deflecting them subtly. He’s mostly quiet-ish, not too loud but loud enough sometimes you can hear him

M!reader is trying to be useful to 141, doing anything but relaxing for a moment. The first to notice anything strange would be Ghost or Price, just a weird change in their mood as they do. Slowly his mask is breaking as they could see the life in his eyes practically slowly drain away, looking as if he had mentally broken

Shortly after all of 141 notices eventually, they would sometimes ask or pry, but m!reader responds with a smile and re-assurance but it’s bs….. they can feel it too but he is still telling them he’s alright. M!reader is slowly losing it internally, but anyways………..,.😭😭😭😭😭😭

M!reader always goes outside during the night and silently breaks down on rare occasions, when he does he just letting the tears fall. This time though 141 follows him outside where m!reader breaks down, anguished filled cries and many years of mental and or physical torment where it makes someone’s heart ache. M!reader is not known to cry so this is a first for them, whispering to himself self-deprecation as 141 now just steps in and comforts the poor m!reader 🥺🥺

[A/n:Thank you for requesting]

Summary:On the outside your a super fun and cheerful guy but in the inside your hurting and you slowly start to lose your cheerfulness

Type:Scenario: 141 X M!Reader

Version:Mw2

You were the most cheerful person. Always having a large smile on your face, cheering others up, etc, etc. You were a happy guy, sorta. There were times when your mask would break, showing your unsettling blank face staring off, but that only happens when you're alone. If someone finds you like that, you were originally alone. Some people, like Ghost, had doubted your happiness due to the fact your in the military, you've seen hundreds die, you've possible been tortured, kidnapped, starved, had to survive with barely anything at your grasp, he wouldn't know, you didn't originally join the 141, so he didn't know, but what Ghost did know was the smile never left, your eyes would sometimes tell other stories but the smile, it was like...frozen there, forever. Price was another to suspect you, mainly because you avoid personal questions like it's a grenade, aka as much as possible you try to run away from it, or throw it back. Getting something personal out of you was like finding a whale in Ohio(as an ohioan, there are no whales. But there a law about them), it's not gonna happen. Trust Price, he's tried. But other than that, only the sometimes emotionless eyes or sad eyes make him wonder if you're really happy. No one else really noticed. They didn't pay enough attention or didn't spend enough time with you to notice. But either way, it wasn't easy to notice. But eventually, you started to break, every act you've put on it coming to an end. Your smile became weaker, less happy. Your eyes become droppy with sadness. You stopped being so cheerful, less talkive, and you couldn't hold on to the act much longer. You stayed outside longer, the crying for hours on end, you were stressed, overworked, overwhelmed, sad, a lot of things but happy wasn't one of them. You tried to talk to Price, but it didn't work. He was either too busy or you were too scared. You also tried telling Rodolfo, That didn't work either. You changed the subject before even mentioning the original subject. You started to activity avoid mentioning it. How much longer could you hold up? Not much longer, let's say that. It's currently taking everything in your power to not break down in front of everyone. It is hard even lasting all day. Shivering from the cold, you hug your knees to your chest, thinking about how to deal with tomorrow. You had nothing planned, but you heard Soap was gonna try and hang out with you, which you were fine with. Sighing, you wiped your tears and stood up. Dusting your pants off, you walked back inside, telling everyone you were just tired when they asked if you were okay. Laying down you looked over at Gaz, your bunk mate, who was asleep, not necessarily sound asleep since he snores a lot, along with random words, like mac...one of the most common words he says. Sometimes you think it has something to do with mac & cheese, that his one of his favorite easy meals to eat. Rolling back over, you let out a small whimper, holding back your tears. You hugged yourself and took a deep breath. Letting yourself fall asleep, for once. When you woke up, Gaz was gently shaking you. Looking at him, it was abit blurry and the light shining in your eyes made it hurt to look in his direction.

"Heeeyyy, morning sleepy head. You need to get up we got training to do"

Gaz smiled at you, a warming smile that would make your heart warm slightly. Giving a weak smile back, you slowly got up. It was more difficult than most days. It was like you had shackles weighing you down. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you stared down at the floor watching the shadow of Gaz go from one side to the other side. He was walking around getting ready for the day. Looking up at him, you watched him tighten his belt before looking over.

"You gonna get ready?"

He still had that smile. Nodding, you stood up and hurried to get ready. Once you're done getting ready, Gaz had already left the room. Looking in your mirror, you took a deep breath a couple of times, making eye contact with yourself. You saw those sad eyes, rubbing your eyes. You looked back at yourself, still with sad eyes. You sighed and gave a smile, making sure to have the wrinkles by your eyes to give the effect of a real smile. Nodding to yourself, you walked out and headed to where Gaz was. You did your best, not enough to please Ghost, but enough to not break down. Going into the kitchen, you stood there staring at the sink. You rarely eat, ever since that wave if depression hit you for the first time your eating habits got worse and worse, you got skinner and skinner, but stronger since you were in the military. Sighing you walked out of the kitchen without eating anything, again. König watched you leave, confused he looked at the skin where you were looking. There was only a cup overfilled with water, but you could see your reflection. König looked the way you left. You walked with your head low, staring at the floor you walked on. Everyone made sure not to run into you or make sure you don't run into them. Walking to Prices office you knocked on the door. Silence. Groaning you knocked again. More Silence.

"Captain Price!"

You yelled with the happiest tone you could muster. Again, silence.

"Alright, I'm coming in"

Opening the door you peeked in.

"Captain....?"

It was dark, flicking the light on you looked around confused. Price wasn't there at all. Sighing you turned around, turning the light off and closing the door, you looked around turning to think of where he could have gone. Walking around you looked for the captain, and you kept looking until evening. Looking over you seen Soap looking at you from across the room. Smiling, he waved you over. Smiling back at him with a wide, warm smile, you trotted over to him.

"Hey Soap, how's it going?"

You and Soap talked for awhile. Cracking jokes, talking about multiple different things, etc. After awhile you said you had to go. Going outside you looked around for Price alittle more, sighing you layed down, and stared up at the stary sky. The moon sighing bright.

"Are you sure about this captain?"

Soap asked while they all walked to the back door. Captain had seen how cautious and panicked you looked awhile looking for him. So much so that you didn't notice him. Ghost was walking next to Soap, with Gaz behind them trying to keep up with them, a tad bit to tired to fully process what's going on.

"You didn't see his face, now did you?"

Price looked back at Soap who shook his head no. Nodding Price opened the doors with both hands, looking around he seen you laying down, staring up at the sky quite far away from them.

"There"

Price didn't point at you or nothing, just hurried over to you. Before he could say anything, Ghost stopped him.

"Price."

Price stopped and looked at Ghost.

"He's crying, seems to have been going on for awhile"

Looking back at you, Price saw your hand wiping your eyes, sobbing quietly, you muttered to yourself. Price looked at you with guilt, now understanding all those times you walked into his room, just about every day. Standing over you, Price looked down. Seeing your fearful shocked eyes, filled with tears, your cheeks shiny from crying. Price signed and crouched down. Gaz leaned against Price, still tired. Soap and Ghost where standing next to Price, also looking down at your hopeless body. Price his hand on your cheek, rubbing away your tears.

"It's alright son, no need to hide it."

Gaz snapped out of it when he heard that. Using Price's shoulder as a lift, looking at you, he gasped. He's never seen you so weak, so vulnerable. Letting out a loud hic, you grabbed Price's hand, ugly crying you let Price hold you.

"Let it all out, your safe here."

You sat up, hugging Price tightly. You cried into his shoulder, hard. Soap dropped to his knees and hugged you, it's the most he could do right now, he had nothing he could say. The lump in his throat preventing him from saying much.

"We got you..y/n we got you, okay?"

Soap whispered in your ear, hoping to calm you down, even just alittle bit. Gaz patted your head, pulling your head away from Prices shoulder you looked up at him. Smiling, Gaz gently caressed your head. Giving warm to your worn out brain, that's corrupted with the wrong thoughts and ideas.

"Hey..y/n,"

You looked at Ghost.

"Why did you hide? We understand if you can't keep going, you knew that, didn't you? We're here to help, that's the point of the military"

Your eyes widened, you didn't have a answer for him. You didn't have an reason.

"I-I..."

You couldn't give an answer. Ghost let out a small sign, not one of disappointment or anything negative. It's just that small air he's been holding in without realization.

"No need to answer, just... try to talk to us, even if it's hard."

You nodded, opening your arm to Ghost. He stared at it for a second before joining the hug. For you.

[A/n:I'm not sure if this is all that good 😅. I hope you enjoyed]

#cod 141 #cod task force 141 #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod x male reader #call of duty mw2 #mw2 x male reader #mw2 x reader #cod mw2 x male reader #cod mw2 x reader

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a-dragons-journal · 2 months

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Humanity and the Lack Thereof

This essay was co-written between Rani and Viridian; Viridian's text is in green and bracketed.

Humanity is an interesting thing.

I am otherkin. I am nonhuman, a dragon-in-human-skin, draconic to my core. I feel phantom wings and tail, the instinctive knowledge of how to breathe fire even though I don’t understand how it works, a bones-deep longing and homesickness for the sky, numerous instincts and urges tied to being something other than human. Many who are like me reject humanity entirely, don’t feel human at all. And yet, I am also human, deeply and truly. I am just as human as I am dragon - I like my human body, I love the things I can do with it (hands, dexterous hands, are a wonderful thing), I overall enjoy my human life. I am nonhuman, but I am not not human.

Viridian, who is watching “over my shoulder” as I write this, is a vampire. She is a fictive, from one of the Vampire: the Masquerade games that I play in, wherein vampires are typically considered to be… on the boundary line between “human” and “nonhuman.” Many vampires cling to their humanity and adamantly consider themselves human; I would go so far as to say this is the norm. Those who do not often become monstrous indeed, though often they do not.

[ I do not consider myself human. I am Kindred, vampire, Cainite. I am part of humanity, as a general populace - but I do not like being called human.

[ I think part of it is that being human is often put in direct opposition to being vampire as a personal identifier. Those who adamantly insist they are “still human” often mean as opposed to being a vampire instead. Being no longer human is, as Rani wrote, often considered a sign of becoming a monster instead.

[ But I worked hard for my Embrace, my being turned into a vampire. I worked to earn the right to call myself Kindred for nearly a decade. And yes, perhaps some of it is that I was taught by my original sire that the Embrace was an ascension above humanity, and that still colors my feelings on my own vampirism even if I acknowledge that he was wrong to consider us inherently above humans. But much of it is that being called human feels like a denial of my vampirism, a rejection of it, and for me that is not empowering - it is denying and rejecting something deeply important to me. Kindred is who I am. Human was only ever circumstantially true, a circumstance of birth - Kindred was something I actively sought out, pursued, chose. ]

Which is interesting, because to a certain extent, “human” is only circumstantially true for me, too. If I hadn’t been born human, I sincerely doubt I would identify as one in the same way that I identify as a dragon despite not being born into a dragon body. I could be wrong, of course - I have no way to prove it either way - but I suspect that if I am correct about reincarnation and I end up in another body after this one, I will not have the same “spillover” of humanity that I do of draconity from my dragon life.

And yet, I am human, and I actively dislike it when people try to strip that from me. Part of that, admittedly, is that the handful that try to see me as only dragon, and reject that I am human, are usually doing it because they’re violently misanthropic individuals, so it’s soured the whole thing for me because the reason they’re rejecting my humanity is so they can try to get me to shit-talk the rest of humanity with them. (If I have to hear one more dragon legitimately, whole-heartedly say that they think humanity should be extincted, I’m going to lose it.) But part of it is that my humanity is important to me, just as important as my draconity. I am both. I’ve written whole essays on this topic.

[ In that way, perhaps we’re not so different after all. I dislike being called human because it feels like a rejection of who I am, who I chose to be; you dislike being called not-human because it is a rejection of who you are. ]

Maybe so. Funny how different societal circumstances can yield opposite results from the same kind of pressures.

I think that part of the discrepancy between us is also that I’m a very physical person. Frankly, I am a chemical creature; I enjoy physicality, I enjoy affectionate touch, I enjoy the physical pleasures life has to offer. I enjoy food. I enjoy sexual pleasure. I enjoy the exhilaration of getting my heart going and my instincts fired up in a self-defense class. I live, I live, I live! is ever a cry of joy in my heart. And a lot of that ties into my animality! I am a dragon animal, yes, but I am also a human animal, and both of these things must be satisfied! The dragon yearns for the wind and the view when I climb up to a height, for the fire of battle I can get out of a sparring match; the human yearns for the taste of sun-warm berries right off the bush, for the warm press of bodies when I hug and cuddle with loved ones. Both of them love a good nap in the sun. I am a physical creature, I am an animal, and my animal-ness connects me to my body and thus to my humanity, rather than separating me from it.

[ Meanwhile, none of this has ever been true for me. Yes, of course I enjoy certain delicacies; I miss my brother’s cookies periodically, it’s true. But I’ve never loved these things the way Rani does. It’s not that I dislike the pleasures of life, but I’ve just… never really cared. It wasn’t much of a loss when I was Embraced, to trade food and sunlight and heartbeat for immortality and knowledge and power. It was almost convenient to not have to deal with the maintenance a living body requires - no excretion of waste, no inconvenient aches or pains or stomach cramps, a frankly much more manageable frequency of requiring sustenance. My body is just a tool, and the Embrace made it more efficient in most ways. And now, after twenty-three years of being dead, being in a living body again is overwhelming in some ways and just downright unpleasant in others. Even most of the physical matters Rani actively enjoys are either overwhelming or uninteresting for me. I am happy to leave the care and maintenance of the body to them. It’s not necessarily that I actively had a disconnect from my human body, originally, so much as that I didn’t have an active connection to it to make me identify with it, and thus my being “human” was, as I said, only ever circumstantial. My becoming Kindred overrode it, and I prefer to leave it that way.

[ Ironic, that the one whose nonhumanity is so human-shaped should be the one to reject humanity, but here we are. ]

Here we are.

#otherkin #dragonkin #plurality #fictive #rani talks #caldwell #journaling #community writings #essay as promised

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dmwrites · 6 months

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It had been long enough now that the pattern was familiar. It started as a gnawing emptiness, looking for something that wasn’t there yet. It was apparent on every face, the need for a task, the greed and satisfaction that came with reward.

The rules were simple- Grian had explained them when they had all shown up in this new world. Get a task. Keep it a secret. Do the task. Succeed. Don’t die, even though you will. The feeling of incompleteness while waiting for a task hasn’t been in the explanation- or, at least, Martyn hoped it wasn’t just him who felt this way.

Martyn kept to himself a lot this season, and it was in a cave that he received his next secret task. Martyn often wondered how the book that held his task got to be in his pocket. The tasks were delivered timely every week, with no apparent source. Martyn suspected that whatever, whoever was giving them these tasks did not appreciate people dwelling on the source, as Martyn always got a headache when thinking about it.

Martyn felt a heaviness in his pocket- a new secret task delivered. He stepped back, finally striking down the zombie that had climbed quite a distance to get to him. Martyn went into a small alcove in the cave, well-lit already from his exploration. Just to be safe, he boarded up the gaping opening in front of him, so no mobs could possibly do a lick of damage to him. He’d already suffered so many hearts lost with his recklessness.

Martyn opened the small book, which glowed a slight purple, held it up to the torch light to read his task.

Find RenTheDog

Martyn’s breath stilled in his chest. It was two words, two very simple words, and he read them over and over again like they were a hymn, a passage he failed to really comprehend.

“He’s not-”

Martyn hit a button on his communicator, scanned through the names listed, every participant in this game. Ren was not among them. Martyn knew that. Martyn knew that. This was the second game in a row the dog had been absent from, which tore Martyn’s heart in ways only Ren could, but it was fine. Or, it had been, until now, until this task stared him in the face.

Martyn let out a choked laugh.

“It’s… this surely would be a hard task, first of all.” The hollowness in his voice kind of dulled the joke into nothingness. “He’s not here. Ren is not… here.” He tried to emphasize his point, put his finger to his name, but it ended up being more of a caress of the name on the page.

No one answered his open-air monologue, which he’d expected. So, with nothing to go off of, besides those two taunting words, Martyn dug his way to the surface.

He soon stood before the secret keeper, before that damned mark that he knew, by god he knew none of it was just mere coincidence.

“So I’m guessing you just want me to have to pick a harder task, is that it? Hoping I’ll fail big time and you can get me out of your hair faster?” Martyn snarled at the stone before him. “Well, baby, I’m a cockroach, so good luck with that.”

He pressed the button before him, with the sign under that read “reroll for a harder task”. There were whispers, some kind of poem that Martyn, in his anger, didn’t bother reading, and then a book appeared in mid-air, a deep red this time. Martyn caught it before it fell, ripped the cover open.

Find the Red King.

“Fuck you!” Martyn yelled, outrage and mourning and yearning pouring out of him all at once. “I can’t… why? Why on earth are you doing this to me? I can’t do this… I can’t-”

He could see people coming, whether to complete their task or to see what the yell had been about, and he ran. He didn’t know the land, having spent so much time underground, so it was a blind dash towards the tree line. His heart was thudding, his mind a mess.

There was, however much he tried to tamp it down, a blossom of hope. He slowed down eventually, when he hit a world boarder, thinking hard. Twice now, the secret keeper had told him to find Ren. They must know who Martyn was, who had held the axe. No one better to find him.

Martyn looked for RenTheDog. He built a tower of cobblestone to the sky, scanning the land far below. He ventured into the deepest caves, calling out Ren’s name and hearing it echo back to him with more and more desperation.

But the day was only so long, and, eventually, Grian’s message in chat confirmed what Martyn had already known.

“So, did anyone fail their tasks this week?” Grian asked to the gathered group.

Martyn strode forward in the silence that followed, hit the button that said “fail”. He bit back a pained moan as a row of hearts was taken from him. He could hear sympathetic groans and gasps behind him, others trying to share in his pain. But they didn’t know, not really.

“What was the task?” Grian asked curiously.

“I’d rather not say.” Martyn said. He turned and walked past his friends, out towards the setting sun. It hurt. It all hurt.

#secret life #inthelittlewood #trafficblr #renchanting

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rogueddie · 1 year

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Steve has always loved his little Christmas town. The snow, the chill, the lights. The little elves are sweet too. Everyone in his town is just... lovely. He can't think of another word for it. They are simple lovely.

But Steve is... curious.

They are all told to stay in the town. They are all told about how bad the woods are. They are all told about those who would wonder in and never come out. Rumors of monsters and man eaters...

But Steve is curious. The stories only make him want to see what's inside even more. And the more he thinks about the woods, the adventure, the curiosity... the more dull his little town seems.

Christmas is lovely, Steve knows that. Steve loves that. But Steve is bored of that.

So, he goes into the woods.

For a while, they're just woods. Steve starts to wonder if the rumors are just that- rumors. He starts to wonder if the stories were made just so people wouldn't go looking for made-up things and get lost.

But, a few moments later, he comes across a clearing. It's just a big, round, empty space. There's twelve other paths, leading in different direction. They all look vaguely the same- though a couple do look bright, just like the path Steve just came down, and one looks dark.

The dark path stands out in stark contrast to the others. It makes Steves curiosity raise it's head once again.

The path is normal, at first. Just a little dark, shadowed. But the longer Steve stays on the path, the more macabre it gets.

The trees start losing their leaves, bare dark branches curling out into the path like clawed hands. The shadows seem to move, dancing around him with what looks like curiosity. The orange leaves on the floor get louder, more frail... more dead.

It feels like a shorter path. He reaches the end faster than he thought he would and when he does...

The town at the end of the path is as opposite of his little home town as he never could have imagined. The first thing he sees is a graveyard and, hiding behind a tree, a ghost dog floating by. There's cobwebs and dead flowers on the graves.

But, given the look of everything else, he suspects those things might be respectful here.

He creeps around the edge of the woods, until he reaches the buildings, which are easier to duck behind. He makes his way deeper into the town, slowly, trying to stay hidden.

He's not exactly surprised to be caught, but the throat being cleared behind him still makes him jump.

The person is about the same height as Steve, but that's where the similarities stop. The person has pale, near white skin. Dark eyes that look almost sunken, circled by black shadows. Their long, dark hair only makes them look more pale in contrast. The fact that it's moving, without any wind, adds to Steves intruige.

He's never seen an outfit like the one this person is wearing either. Almost completely black, only small amounts of blood red, greys and silver chains to contrast. The jeans he's wearing too have so many tears, but there's markings on the skin that peaks through.

"You look a little lost," they say with a smirk.

"Oh, uh, sort of? I'm not... from here."

"Obviously," they snort, eyeing him.

Steve looks down at himself and... yeah. A white polo with pastel stripes and pale blue jeans? "Right, yeah, sorry. It is pretty obvious."

"How did you get here, lamb?"

"The woods."

"You went into the woods?" Their eyes widen, leaning forward.

There's a quiet hiss, drawing Steves attention to the ends of his hair- to the snakes starting to raise their heads, turning their eyes to Steve.

"You- you have snakes for hair?"

"Yeah! They're lovely, you don't need to fear them."

Steve looks them over for a moment. Before raising a hand a little. "Could I... touch them?"

"Of course."

"Are they ok with that?"

They make a noise- a sort of low grumble. And, for a moment, Steve worries that he's said something to upset them. But they step forward, closer, the snakes curling forward into his raised hand. They curl around his hand, seeming to rub against him like a cat would.

The person is smiling.

"Thanks," Steve says, clearing his throat when his voice cracks, face flushing. "They're... very nice."

"You're scared of them," they say, but they're grinning, excited. "I'm Eddie, by the way. Local weird guy, even in this place."

"Steve," he gestures to himself. "I'm just, uh, the usual in my place."

"But you're... well. Anyway. You probably shouldn't stay too long. If little ol' me made you jump, this place might give you a heart attack."

"You're not that scary," Steve straightens up, defensive, frowning.

Eddie snorts, fingers brushing Steves cheek. "Anyone else around here would take that as an insult, Stevie."

"Oh... uh, sorry, I just-"

"No, don't worry. It's sweet." Eddie clears his throat, gently coaxing the snakes into letting go of Steves hand. "Come on, let's get you home."

It's easier to sneak back to the woods with Eddie. He often presses up behind Steve, blocking him from sight with his own body. It means they don't need to keep ducking behind cover every time.

But, by the time they reach the woods, Steve is... he's not sure how he's feeling. But he doesn't want to leave. Not yet.

Eddie gently pushes him into the woods, along the overgrown path, keeping a gentle hand on his lower back. He walks alongside him, probably making sure Steve does actually go back home.

"What if it's not safe?" Steve stops. He hopes he doesn't look as desperate as he feels. "Maybe... maybe it'd better if I stay here for a little bit. Until we're sure. Or something."

"Steve-"

"Just one night! Like... it's better to be safe than sorry, right?"

"Steve. You don't need to worry. I'm gonna stay with you, ok?"

"But when-"

"I'm gonna stay with you."

Steve stares at him for a moment. "The whole way?"

"The whole way."

"Ok," Steve says quietly, continuing to walk, ducking his head to hide his smile when Eddie puts his hand on his back again.

Steve struggles to start making small talk but, thanks to Eddies unusual responses, he's easy to talk to. And it's not the same boring, repetitive stuff those in his home town would fall back on. Although, Eddie seems just as curious to hear Steves response to those, turning his questions back on him.

It feels like no time at all until they reach the clearing.

"Have you gone down any of the others?" Eddie asks, turning as he eyes all the different paths.

"Just yours." Steve glances at some of the others. "We could come back... check out the others?"

"Fuck yeah. You wanna try and check them all out? One a day? Wait, which is yours?"

Steve looks back to Eddies path, counting back. "This one."

"How much am I gonna stand out?"

"A lot... you don't have to come the whole way, you know?"

Eddie scoffs, bumping their shoulders. "Nah, I'm committed now. Plus... in all honesty? I kinda like the soft shit. Like, that's why I'm the weird one. Spooky and scary and dark is great! Don't get me wrong, I love creepy stuff. I love my snakes. But... sometimes a warm sweater or something clean, or light, or... soft... that's nice too."

"Yeah... yeah, I know what you mean."

"What, you like spooky and soft stuff?"

"Why do you think I went into the darkest path there is?"

"You just get more and more interesting..."

Steve is sure that the path home is shorter on the way back. He's not sure how, but he's sure that it is. He doesn't say so to Eddie, just makes a mental note of it.

Eddie is frozen at the edge of the woods, eyes wide and mouth open, looking around at everything.

"Uh," Steve clears his throat, bringing Eddies attention back to him. "Merry Christmas?"

"Is it like this all the time?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Oh, Stevie, it's so pretty." Eddie laughs, a little breathless. "I was so fucking right, holy shit."

"Right about what?"

"You are far too lovely to be the usual, even here."

part 2

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #ficlet #christma22k

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