#and so the words just got stuck for a bit
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— We just want the best for you
pairings: lia walti x reader, caitlin foord x reader, katie mccabe x reader, leah williamson x reader
summary: reader has only ever wanted her mums' to work together and finally they both seem to be in agreement with one another.
this ones' been drafted for a while, but i found it a bit hard to get it written the way that i wanted it too...
anyways, i hope this lives up to the expectations and stuff.
let me know what you think!
"So, how long has this been going on for?" Lia questions, breaking the silence in the room between the three of you after the not so awkward hug with her ex-girlfriend.
"A while," You admit while biting your bottom lip as you move to sit on the sofa in the living room in Caitlins' home.
Caitlin furrows her eyebrow in concern as she follows you into the room, "Why didn't you tell us about it before, kiddo?" She wonders.
You think about your mums' question for a second or two. You honestly wish you could have told them both, but could you when all they seem to do is argue with eachother whenever they're in the same room for longer than 5 minutes?
"Well, I couldn't do that," You murmer, picking at the skin on your finger nails; A nervous habit you'd picked up when your stuck in a situation like the current one that you're facing.
"Y/N, wait, what are you talking about?" Lia catches up to you both in the unfamiliar living room, having not been here too often for her own benefit. "We're your parents, sweetheart. You know that you can come and talk to us any time at all!" She insists.
"Like its' so easy to do that?" You think to yourself, continuing to pick at the skin on your finger nails.
Caitlin nods in agreement, "Your Mamas' right, kiddo. We're here for you, depsite what has happened. You know this!" The Aussie tries to reassure you, placing her hand gently on your knee.
"I can't though, can I?" You can't help but scoff, "Cos' you two are always fighting and you didn't even realise what was going on! You just put it down to me acting out at school, but you didn't think there was anything going on to cause it!" You don't mean to shout, but you can't help the frustration in your voice about it all.
"We... We don't argue all the time kiddo," Caitlins' taken back by your words.
"Yes you do!" You exclaim in disbelief and shake your head. "That's all you do whenever you two are in the same room as each other-- All you do is argue!"
"Y/N, sweetheart," Lia tries to speak.
"It's true, Mama!" You throw your hands up in the air in protest, "You two seriously can't even get along, ever!" You exclaim, knowing that you speak nothing but the truth when it comes' to your two mums' not getting along.
You start to feel like its' a turning point when Lia and Caitlin look at one another with the same concerned look.
Finally!
"You're right, kiddo. We're sorry," Caitlin states in realisation.
"We want to help you, sweetheart. We're going to deal with this," Lia chimes in.
"What? You're going to deal with your issues?" You sacrastically question, trying to fight the urge to roll your eyes.
"Y/N," Lia gives you a pointed look in reference to your newfound attitude.
"What? I'm just speaking the truth and you know I'm right!" You huff in defiance, glancing between the two of them. "Whys' it always got to be so difficult for the two of you to just get along? I need you both!" You exclaim.
Your mums' seperation wasn't the easiest to deal with, you're not entirely sure what happened, but your not blind to see that Lia holds a certain resentment towards Caitlin now, along with Katie to an extent.
Sometimes you wish things could just be simple like they used to be.
"We're going to try for you kiddo," Caitlin declares, sharing a look with her ex before she smiles reassuringly at you. "Whatever you need, we're both here for you, kiddo." She adds.
"O... Okay then," You murmer in agreement.
"So, what's the next step then?" Caitlin turns to Lia for her help with the situation.
"We'll go down to the school and talk to the prinicpal, talk to them and tell them whats' been going on," Lia finishes the explanation.
"Right, good," The Aussie women nods in agreement.
"Together," Lia states, pursing her lips together.
Caitlin can't help but scoff slightly, "Are you sure you don't want to take Leah with you instead? Cos' you didn't have much of a problem with that last time." She speaks out of spite, not too keen after what happened the last time you were in trouble at school.
The Swiss women exhales a sigh and shakes her head, "Caitlin, no, I'm not getting into this-- This is about our daughter and whats' best for her!" She insists.
"What would've been best was if I went down to the school instead," Caitlin mumbles, not willing to let it go that easy without a conversation about it.
"Oh, seriously? You're bringing this up again?" Lia looks at the women in disbelief.
"Yes, I am!" Caitlin exclaims, not wanting to back down from argument. "Because its' still relevant!" The women states.
"No its' not," Lia shakes her head in disagreement.
"Yes it is--" Caitlin goes to object.
"You're doin' it again!" You shout aloud over the two of them. "Can you two seriously not argue for once? Seriously!" You can't help the intital anger that comes over you, the two of them agreed to try and push their differences aside to be there for you and less than 10 minutes later, they're once again arguing again.
"Y/N," Lia furrows her eyebrows, confused.
"Kiddo, we're just talking," Caitlin tries to explain.
"This... This is the reason I didn't want to tell you what's been going on! You two are so angry with each other that no matter what the situation is, you always just end up arguing!" You're too angry to care if anyone else can hear whats' going on right now. "You don't care about my feelings or my problems! You're both so selfish!"
"Y/N/N, thats' not true," Caitlin objects.
"It's not true, sweetheart. We do care about you, your the most important thing in the world to us both," Lia chimes in, trying to take a hold of your hand.
You instantly snatch your hand away and scoff at the two of them, "Wow. For once, you both actually agree about something," You murmer, going to stand up from the sofa. "The two of you really need to work out your issues in therapy or something!" With that, you storm off out of the room, making your way to go and find Ella, whos' no doubt still on a TikTok live in her bedroom.
"Y/N--" Lia tries to call you back in.
"Just let her go, Lia," Caitlin stops the Swiss women from going after you. "She needs the time to calm down. I think shes' gone to find Ella." She explains.
The room is completely silent between Lia and Caitlin, so much that you would be able to hear a pin drop in the room but you'll take the positivity of that at least they're not arguing again.
"Shes'... Shes' right, Caitlin," Lia exhales a sigh and glances at the Aussie women for her acknowledgement. "All we do is argue in front of her and it needs to stop." She tells her ex-girlfriend.
"Yeah, yeah, I know," Caitlin murmers in agreement with her ex.
"We need to find a way to work together and co-parent. We missed the signs of our daughter being bullied because we're at each others' throats all the time," Lia confesses, shaking her head as she feels awful how she missed it entirely.
Was she so caught up in bickering with her ex that she didn't even realise you were being bullied at school?
"I... I know, Y/N needs to come first," Caitlin insists, wanting to at least be on the page as her ex about her daughters' wellbeing, "Look, if we're gonna do this then we all need to be on the same page, alright?" She wonders.
"Meaning?" Lia questions, furrowing her eyebrows.
"Well I'm with Katie and your with Leah," The Aussie women cuts straight to the chase.
"We're just friends," Lia interjects.
Caitlin scoffs slightly, "Sure, keep telling yourself that. So friends, or whatever you want to call it, we all need to be there to help her out-- I'm guessing Leah's outside?" She asks, knowing full well the blondes' more than likely out in the car.
"Shes' outside in the car," Lia replies in agreement.
"Right, well, you might as well invite her inside then," Caitlin nods and clicks her tongue. "Katie will be home soon as well, so we'll all sit down, the 5 of us and talk." She declares.
"Together?" Lia asks, hesistant about the idea of that.
"Together. United as co-parents," Caitlin nods along in agreement.
Even as hesitant that Lia is about all 4 of them being in the same room with you, she knows that she needs to do what's best for you, "I'll go and get her from outside." She mumbles, standing up from the sofa to go and find the blonde outside.
Right on queue as the front door opens, signalling that Katie is home now.
"And that'll be Katie comin' into the house now," Caitlin gestures to the sound of the front door opening. "Katie, we're in the living room!" She calls to get her girlfriends attention.
"We're? I didn't realise we had company," Katies' playful voice jokes as she walks through the house and is taken back by Lias' appearance in the living room. "Oh hi Lia, I didn't know you'd be popping round. Guess that makes sense why I've just seen Leah outside as well, I did think it was a bit weird." She states, still confused.
"Hi Katie," Lia begrudingly greets the Irish women, knowing that she needs to suck up her dislike for the pair of them to focus on you right now. "I'll go and get her to come inside so we can talk." She stands up and makes her way out of the living room.
Katie sends her girlfriend a confused look, "What have I missed?" She wonders, still trying to figure out what is exactly going on that requires her to sit in a room with her girlfriend, her ex and her own partner, or whatever they are.
"Theres' a lot that we need to talk about... All of us," Caitlin admits, exhaling a sigh.
"Oh," Katie is further puzzled by what is going on. "So, is the kid here as well? I'll go say hi!" She questions, trying to put the pieces together and take a wild guess that you would be here as well.
The Aussie women nods in agreement, "Shes' in the kitchen with your sister I think, she stormed off when Lia and I had a slight disagreement," She confesses. "We need to sit down with her and talk about things."
"Oh. This sounds serious?" Katie asks, concerned but still in her playful jokey manner.
"It is," Caitlin mutters, exhaling a sigh as she pinches the bridge of her nose.
"Cait, what's going on?" Katie furrows her eyebrows in cocnern.
"That's exactly what I want to know," Leahs' voice enters the conversation, joining the couple in the living room as she walks in with Lia following her asking her to join them inside to talk. "What is going on, and why are we here?" She wonders.
"The four of us need to talk," Lia insists, gesturing the blonde to take a seat beside her on the spacious sofa.
"We need to be on the page when it comes to Y/N," Caitlin chimes in.
"Same page about what?" Katie asks, confused.
"Y/N is being bullied," Lia admits quietly, bowing her head slightly.
Leahs' the first to react, "What? Seriously?" She questions, shocked.
"Who is it? I'll fight them!" Katies' straight away shooting up on her feet, although shes' yet to figure out a plan of the next steps.
"For once, I'm with you on that one," Leah mumbles, standing up from the sofa.
"Sit down, the pair of you," Caitlin states, shaking her head. "Neither of you can go and fight a literal child!"
"The hell I can't!" Katie exclaims, throwing her hands up in the air. "Nobody picks on the kiddo and gets' away with it!" She declares, firmly.
"Whos' been bullying her? We... We have to something about it!" Leahs' protective instinct kicks in, wanting to shield you from any further hurt or suffering at all.
"We will, but fighting another child isn't what's best for Y/N," Lia tells the blonde, giving her a prompt look.
"Then what do we do?" Leah questions, worriedly.
"That's what we're trying to figure out," Caitlin chimes in.
Katie snorts and a slight smirk appears on her face, "I still think fighting them is a viable option." She jokes, half serious about the fact of it.
Leah frowns and bites her bottom lip, "Why didn't she tell anyone?" She asks, confused about it.
"Shes' been stuck between me and Caitlin arguing, so its' no wonder she kept it quiet," Lia admits, rubbing her temples before she exhales a sigh. "None of that is a good environment for Y/N to be around and it can't continue." She tells them all.
"So going forward, we put whatever problems or differences we have with eachother aside, for Y/N's sake-- She's what is important now, we can't bicker in front of her. We need to stand united if we want to help her!" Caitlin is remaining strong in what she says, she's not exactly on the best of terms with her ex but when it comes to her daughters' wellbeing, she doesn't play at all.
"That's fair enough," Katies' the first to agree.
Leah follows suit and nods in agreement, "I agree with you, Y/N is what matters." She states.
"All of us are an important person of Y/N's life, she needs us all to be there for her," Lia starts to explain as she looks around the room between the four of them. "Katie, you and Caitlin are together, you obviously make each other very happy and Y/N clearly loves to spend time with you all here." She tells the Irish women.
Katie faintly smiles, "I love the kid like shes' me own."
"And Leah, whatever you and Lia have going on," Caitlin pauses, glancing between her ex and the blonde. "Whether there's a label on it or not, your someone who Y/N looks up to, regardless." She tells her.
Leah smiles in agreement, "Shes' a good kid, I love her."
"That's why we need to get on with eachother, for Y/N's sake if nothing else, okay?" Lia stands her ex on her words, when it comes to her daughter, shes' willing to do what she has too, even if it means hanging out with her ex girlfriend and her new beau sometimes.
"Yeah," Katie and Leah both reply in sync.
"Right, and with that being said. Now we need to speak to kiddo," Caitlin says, motioning in the direction of where you are in the kitchen with Ella still. "I'll go and get her, I'll be back in a minute." Leaving the room, Lia is left with Katie and Leah, who are currently scowling at each other.
"I don't care what grudges the two of you have, we all need to remain civil with eachother for Y/N's sake, alright? We might not agree with somethings that are said, but whatever it is, we keep it away from Y/N, deal?" Lia firmly speaks, glancing between the two women.
"Deal," The blonde agrees.
"Yeah, yeah deal. Anything for the kiddo," Katie replies.
"Mum, I don't wanna talk about things-- Uh, what's going on?" Your protest is cut short, being forced out of the kitchen as you walk into the living room and your met with not just Lia, but Leah and Katie now as well.
"Here she is," Caitlin speaks aloud, walking back into the living room with you in tow.
"Hi kiddo," Katies' waving in your direction.
"Hi Katie," You politely smile and wave back at the Irish women before you furrow your eyebrows. "Uhhh, am I in trouble?" You ask, confused.
Leah can't help but laugh slightly, "What makes you think that, kid?" She questions.
"The four of you are in one room together, and that never happens," You comment, glancing round between all 4 older women. "Like ever." You mumble.
"Well shes' got a point there," Katie snickers in amusement.
"You're not in trouble, sweetheart. Why don't you come and sit down?" Lia offers, patting the empty space on the sofa between her and Leah.
Your hesistant to walk over and plonk yourself in between the two of them, "Are you sure I'm not in trouble?" You ask, worriedly.
Caitlin chuckles and shakes her head, "You're not in trouble, kiddo. We just want to talk to you about things." She explains.
"Oh. Talk about what?" You cock your head to the side in confusion.
"Listen sweetheart, you were right about what you said about your mum and I fighting all the time and we're not gonna do it anymore," Lia begins to tell you, making you listen intently.
"You mean you guys are gonna take my advice and go to therapy to sort out your issues?" You perk up, glancing between Lia and Caitlin.
"What?" Leah asks, confused.
"I love this kid," Katie laughs in amusement.
"We're not going to go to therapy, kiddo--" Caitlin starts to tell you.
"Why? Cos' you all definitely need it!" You further insist, throwing your hands up in the air.
"Y/N, we want to talk to you about the bullying instead," Lia takes the conversation in a serious direction. "We need to talk about it." She adds.
"Oh," You instantly clam up and go quiet, trying to stay reserved when talking about this subject.
"How longs' it been going on for?" Leah gently approaches the situation.
"A few months," You admit, biting you bottom lip. "It wasn't that bad at first, but gradually, it got worse, like more physical and that." You tell all of them in the room.
"I still think fighting them would be a better to resolve things," Katie pipes in.
"Katie, no..." Caitlin shakes her head in her girlfriends' direction.
You start to pick at the skin around your nails again, "I didn't want to tell anyone and be a bother, and well things haven't exactly been easy, I... I didn't know what to do." You admit, quietly.
Lias' heart clenches hearing your honest words, "We're going to sort this out, sweetheart." She states, firmly.
"Your mama and I are going to go down to the school, we'll get to the bottom of things and figure out what we can do," Caitlin adds in, making it well known to you that she's serious about this. "You're not a bother kiddo. You can always talk to us, no matter what's going on."
"This is the reason you've been acting out, isn't it?" Lia speaks up in realisation.
"I guess so, uh... I thought maybe if I acted out then I would get both of your attention and then you'd be in the same room together," You confess, biting your bottom lip as you try and not look in the direction of either Lia or Caitlin. "But all you seem to have done recently is fight with another so that backfired I guess." You mumble, ducking your head down in shame.
"Well that stops now. Right, Caitlin?" Lia turns to look at Caitlin.
Caitlin nods in agreement, "Agreed, we're your mums' and we're going to be here for you to figure this out together."
"I wish you could have told us sooner, kiddo," Katie speaks up as she frowns.
"I didn't know what to say," You mumble quietly.
"We love you Y/N and we don't want to see you struggle with anything," Leah chimes in, having the same thoughts that she just wants to protect the kid that's not even hers.
It's ony now that you suddenly realise how cold and distant you've been acting towards Leah for no apparent reason when all she wants to do is be there for you, "I'm sorry for the way I have been acting towards you Le," Your quick to apologise to her. "Your still my favourite stern blondie."
"I feel like that's a backhanded compliment there kid," Leah jokes with you, ruffling your hair as she has the advantage while sitting beside you.
"Be glad you got one, Le," You can't help but grin.
Something which all 4 women are happy to see you starting to return to your old-self, despite the challenges you've faced over the last few months.
"We love you, Y/N," Caitlin states, gently.
Lia wraps her free arm around her daughter, "Your our daughter, we just want to help you the best way that we can." She tells you, kindly.
"We want our happy little kid back, so we're gonna sort it out, alright?" Leah declares, firmly.
"And we'll hurt anyone who tries to hurt you," Katie finishes with a determined look on her face.
"No we won't Katie, we're responsible adults. We're not going to hurt other kids!" Caitlin promptly continues to tell her girlfreind.
"Speak for yourself, they don't call me McCard for no reason, you know?" Katie jokes with her girlfriend before she looks you dead in the eye. "Anyone hurts you kiddo and there'll be hell to pay."
© scribblesofagoonerr
#acting out fic#lia walti x reader#caitlin foord x reader#woso x reader#leah williamson x reader#katie mccabe x reader#woso fanfics#woso one shot#scribblesofagoonerr#woso imagine
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— yours, all yours
cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader
rated e - 2.3k
tags: cooper pov, jealous and possessive!reader, sort-of alternate timeline (includes a fo4 character for fun), cooper is an ass, partners-with-benefits, mutual yearning, light angstintentional pushing/teasing, soft thoughts, kissing, oral sex, praise kink, biting and marking, come swallowing
a/n: @aliisa-jones left a sweet comment on mine, all mine that got stuck in my head, so this is a “what-if” situation that I whipped up today, with reader being the jealous one (with Coop & Nora on the other side)!
Cooper can’t help the little bark of a laugh when he realizes - disbelief woven into the sharp sound that spills from him.
Goddamn. His little wastelander might just be jealous.
Cooper’s always been a perceptive man. Able to read people when it mattered - a real helping hand during his time in Hollywood.
Even more so now - gun drawn and ready before they’re even figuring their own conclusion. Twisting the situation to his benefit.
So he doesn’t know why it took him so damn long this time.
Two days to notice, after they picked up that Vaultie. Made from before - like he was - on her way to New Vegas.
A pinch of curiosity had plucked at him with her addition, but nothing more. Had been a rare indulgence to have someone understand all the shit he says, unable to help the occasional age-old idioms that have still lingered inside his mind.
But something about her had set you on edge. He’d thought you’d like her. Two peas in a pod, annoying the shit out of him with idle chatter during the long hours on the road.
You had bristled. Narrowed eyes and distrusting. Wondered if that’s the way he looked, half the time.
Wasn’t until you started to move, that he really noticed. Wandering closer than he’s used to. Finding reasons to pass by him, your ass pressing snug his front. Your pretty tits pushed up against his arm, leaning close to ask him something.
Pretty eyes blinking his way, hanging onto every word.
Riling him up.
Acting like a cat in heat. As if there were pink clouds of perfume drifting off you, spelling out “mine” as they settled over his clothes.
Funny, once he’s got it figured out.
Not sure how he missed it before.
The jealousy that oozes from you. His eyes going to yours each time that frown crosses your face.
Nora is a handsome woman. He’s got eyes, after all - yhey hadn’t rotted away like the rest of him. Can appreciate where she’s come from, deep down, though he’d never say it.
But he seen lots of good-looking people throughout his time walking this earth. And even back when he was just a man, that sort of thing never swayed him.
He’d buried old Cooper Howard some two hundred years ago. A mercy - tucking his corpse away deep in the labyrinth of his soul, as the Ghoul was reborn into rot and ruin.
A place he isn’t sure how to get to anymore, but sometimes there’s still bits of him that linger. Flowers sprouting up through concrete.
Loyal, perhaps, in spite of it all. When it suits him.
Besides, it's been a while since he’s tasted fruit so sweet. Biting down until you’re gushing against his tongue. Supposed he’s not looking to ruin a good thing.
But despite all that, he decides lets it all play out. Amused at the thought.
Seeing where it goes.
Let’s himself appear at-ease, when Nora slinks closer. A cocked brow bone at the low purr of her voice as they pick through an old house - clearing it for the night.
“You mod that yourself?” Her eyes drag slowly across him, down to the holster that rests at his hip, “Didn’t take you for a handyman, cowboy.”
“Sure did,” Cooper drawls - the shotgun slung across his back held loosely in his hand, as his eye scan the old dining room. “You pick up a few new things, out here.”
Had to, to survive. His clothes a patchwork of black thread, holding together ripped seams. Weapons had come next, not like he hadn’t had the time to learn.
“Can I see?”
She’s reaching for him, and he lets her. His eyes flicking towards you as she slips the gun from his holster, fingers curling around the grip.
“Modified MTs255,” He explains, as she turns it over in her hand. Purposeful in the way she moves - with the slow, admiring brush and stroke of fingers, “Changed it from a side-loader to a-"
“Top-break.” She muses with a nod, her shoulder brushing his as she flicks at the lever. A smirk, as she glances his way - her eyebrow lifting this time, “How’s she handle?”
There’s a soft lilt to her voice. Easy to pick up on - especially with the way she smiles, tongue caught between the white of her teeth.
“Oh, I’d say she handles just fine.” He lets the words turn sweet, smooth as honey as they leave his tongue.
You make a frustrated sound, then. A little whine in the back of your throat that he barely catches, before you’re turning sharply on your heel. Stomping off deeper into the house, and he can’t help the smirk that curls at the edges of his lips.
“See for yourself,” He's quick to excuses himself, leaving the gun in Nora's possession. Peeling away from the Vaultie, not sparing her a second glance. If she calls after him - he doesn’t hear it.
His steps purposely slow as he follows behind you. Letting you simmer.
You don’t notice as he slips in the doorway behind you. A head cocked in interest as you wrench open old cabinets. Breath heavy, a rough hiss between your teeth as your fingers clench into fists against the counter.
“That'd get you killed.” He comments, idly, “Runnin’ off like that.”
A little gasp as you whirl. Your hand doesn’t even twitch towards your gun, and he'd not sure if that annoys him. Or if he knows you knew it was him by the low rasp of his voice.
“Didn’t think you’d notice,” You sniff, head quick to turn away. Eager to break eye contact, arms crossing tightly over your chest.
A huff of a laugh rumbles in his chest, “Now what makes you say that, sweetheart?”
You blink at him, his spurs jangling as he closes the space. Hands pressing flat on either side of your hips, a flash of teeth as he waits.
“She-,”You huff - finger pointing accusatorily, “You let her-“
Another little sound, as your frown deepens, “Her hands were all over you, and you didn’t even care!”
It’s spat out. A kitten showing her claws, sharp little teeth bared.
Cooper lets his hips press against yours. Your hands brace against his chest, torn between pushing him away and yanking him closer.
“Takes two to tango, sweetheart.” He coos, but you just frown - not understanding.
Something in his favor. An admission you won’t get. That flicker of tenderness lost in the air.
He wonders if you’d still be angry, if you knew how long he roamed the wasteland without knowing the touch of another. That it would take more than a gun-laced innuendo to truly turn his head.
“‘Sides,” Cooper husks - finger tucking beneath your chin, “What are you goin’ to do about it?”
Needling at you. A thumb against a bruise, pressing until it stings.
Your jaw grits. Eyes searching his, fingernails pricking worn leather. Before they’re sliding up - fitting against his shoulder, around the back of his neck, as you tug him to meet you.
Pressing your lips against his. It’s possessive - an arch to your body as it curves. Tits pressed to his chest as your tongue flicks against his lower lip.
A rough groan as he parts them, as you seek more. He swallows your whine as his hands roam. Across the fat of your hip, squeezing. Fitting the curve of your waist. Palming at your breast as your hips roll against his.
Needy, in the way you gasp. Little panting breath as his head tilts. As he takes control - pressing you into the counter as he licks into your mouth.
He’s stayed away, since you picked up this new stray. Put away a lot of people, or put them in the ground. Not about to let someone use you against him.
It had him pent-up, too. Desire red-hot in his belly. Stiffening with the way you rock against him - a part of him craving the touch.
Easy then, to catch your hand. To drag it down, across the leather of his bandoiler, the heavy buckle of his belt. Pressing your palm flush against the heavy curve of his cock.
Rocking into the cup of your fingers, grinfing into your touch.
“That’s all you, sweetie.” He rasps, and you moan.
Pulling back to look down, as you trace how he strains. The heel of your palm pressing against his clothed, flushed tip, as a low growl rumbles in his throat.
Unable to hide his own need, as his tongue loosens a command.
“Why don’t you show me why I keep you ‘round.”
It’s cruel to word it that way. He’s been trying to scare you away for weeks. Knowing deep down that you’re meant for better things than him. His words now are untrue, even - he knows that.
But you do too, and you don’t care - a determination in your eyes, as they reluctantly pull up to his. Still caught on the evidence of his desire.
Fingers already fitting around his buckle - tugging.
“She might hear.” You breathe, though you don’t slow. Not until you’ve popped the button. Tugged at the zipper, a hitch in your breath as you draw him out.
He had found you tucked around the corner of the kitchen, close to an old pantry. The window behind peeking out into a long backyard. Facing towards a broken-down swing set, the grass overgrown with thick brush and weeds.
The evening sun casting blue and pink shadows, spilling over your shoulders. The room set deep against the far wall of the house.
No doors to hide behind in a kitchen like that, and you’re right - the sound might just happen to travel.
He grins, all teeth.
“Ain’t that what you want, darlin’?”
You inhale a breath.
Desire swirling in your eyes as they meet his. Sinking onto your knees without a second thought, tucked between his hips and the counter.
A small kindness, in the way his coat would block you from view, if someone were to come looking. Keeping the vision of you just for himself.
He’s biting out a curse as you take him into your mouth. The tight, wet heat as he presses against your tongue, no warning before he’s nudging against your throat.
His own hands scrape against the counter - resisting the urge to buck his hips, not wanting to gag you.
“Easy, now.” Cooper husks, something for both of you.
You hum in response - knees spreading wider. A slow bob of your head as you lick against the underside of his cock.
Eyes lifting until they’re on his. Wide and wanting as your head tips - drawing back to show how he rests against your tongue, glossy with spit.
There’s a deep throb in his core. A rattling groan as you leave him completely, your fist wrapping around his cock. Steady in the way your jerk him from base to tip, as your tongue dips down to trace against his sack.
“Fuck.” It’s bitten out, “Gotta make you jealous more often, sweetheart.”
You hum at the way he sees you so clearly. A soft suck against drawn-tight skin, before your head is turning - teeth sinking into the flesh at his hipbone.
He grunts, as his fingers jerk - clamping down against your shirt. Biting into your skin as you suck on ruined skin, the redden shade of his skin blooming darker.
Bucking into the pump of your fist, as his little wastelander marks him up. Marking a hickey along the curve of the stomach, then the meat of his thigh.
He relishes the sting. Letting you explore, as long as you keep touching him. The pleasure-pain blending into bliss as you stroke him.
There’s a tightening deep in his core, a tremor to his thighs. You go easily when he thumbs at your jaw - a soft whine buzzing in you throat that he can feel all the way down his shaft, when your lips close around him.
It has his cock jerking against his tongue.
You didn’t have memories of dirty films, the lewd magazines from before. Not knowing what it means to exaggerate pleasure for his benefit.
The need etched across your face is real - a hand dropping to nudge against your core. He’ll make up for this later, when the house is bathed in darkness. Spread you out across that dining room table he spotted, tasting what he did to you. Make you come on his cock, driving his point home.
Leaving you sticky and clenching around nothing for now. Always eager to make you learn a lesson.
“You're takin’ me so fuckin’ well.” He growls, and you shiver with the praise, “So good for me, aren’t you?”
You hum around him, your answer in the bob of your head. The sound of your fist and mouth is lewd, slick and loud. His own grunts and panting breath layering in, as everything winds tight.
Unable to help the buck of his hips, now. How expertly you work him, with none of that slow exploration when you’re alone.
Eyes focused on his face, watching what you do it him. Looking for the way his head tips back, the part of his lips.
He’s close. Can feel the way everything tightens up, that mounting pressure in his belly.
“Fuck, honey.” Cooper lets the name slip free, “‘Bout to fuckin’ come. You gonna be a good girl and swallow?”
You moan again, as you work him. Letting his hands guide you to the pace he needs. Lips glossy with spit, all but drooling as he uses you.
His breath coming short and harsh, until his teeth click sharply together. A rough groan before he’s bucking into your mouth, spilling against your tongue.
Your fist works him through it. A hand cupping his sack, gently squeezing as he throbs. Those eyes fixed greedily on his, soaking in every expression that flickers across his face.
Always good for him, and you both know it.
“Show me,” He husks, and you do - a ragged gasp as you pull of him, lips parting. The hinge of your jaw opening to show the way his come pools against the dip of your tongue.
“Fuckin’ christ,” It’s enough to have him ready to go again, if he could. “Go on, then. Swallow for me. Show me you’re mine.”
There’s the gulp as you swallow. Eyes blown wide with need as he hauls you to your feet. Your hand still drifting back to tuck around him - putting him back together, as your head tips towards his.
“Yours.” You breathe - the words hoarse as they slide from your used throat, just as you close the gap between you.
Another kiss. Softer now, though just as possessive. He can taste himself on your tongue. Always liked the way the two of you meld together.
Like it’s meant to be.
And maybe, he thinks -
Maybe a little part of him is yours, too.
ahh thank you for reading! I always love a little cooper pov, it's such a fave to write!
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Just some brainrot scraps for Fyodor ღゝ◡╹ )ノ♡ (idk if this is cnc or not so I’ll just say it here just in case)
Imagine corrupting angelic Fyodor. Even though he’s an angel, your guardian angel at that, he’s quite stuck up since he thinks that he’s better than a human sinner like you . From the parties to the one night stands you have he swears that you’re driving him insane! One day he had enough of your antics and decided to disguise himself as a normal human and attended another one of the parties you were invited (this was the eighth party this month alone for fuck’s sake!) He swears that he’ll make you see the light of god and make you change your ways tonight, that’s until he finds himself in bed with you as you plow yourself deep into his ass. He tries whining out how this was dirty and how you shouldn’t have sex before marriage but the feeling of being manhandled in such a way made all his words that came out of his mouth unintelligible. His mind attempts to fight back and keeping himself pure but the pleasure was too overwhelming. By the time he had his third orgasm of the night, he mind was so clouded by lust that he completely forgot about his duties as an angel, his wings turning a dark grey as he falls further from god. In the morning you find yourself trapped in bed with a sweaty, clingy and needy fallen angel, his wings completely tainted black as he wraps himself tighter around you. Maybe it was worth it for some of your dick <33
(I feel a bit rusty when it come to writing so hopefully it isn’t too bad kuhuhuhu (┳Д┳))
- 🍮
Nuuu it’s alright haha. I just love your ideas 🍮 anon, and I love angels. Honestly, when you first proposed incubus fyodor I thought: why not angel? Cuz it kinda fit better BUT FYODOR AS A TOTALL SLUT IS ALSO GREAT KEKEKE
Dom!reader x sub!Angel!Fyodor
Warning: heavy on hierophilia, pegging (can be read as a dick), virgin fyodor, hair pulling, overstimulation, sub-space, dubcon, corruption kink, manhandling, no prep, save word (not used), dacryphilia, objectification, degrading, forced orgasm
Edit: I got carried away
He really wanted to do his job well, seriously. Being a good angel who carry out his lords orders with diligence, never lazing around and protecting you with all his might. But it’s so difficult to like you, to like someone who’s depraved of god’s blessing like this. It must be god’s trial for him, otherwise he can’t explain why someone as great as him got paired up with you. You are basically the incarnation of sin itself! It’s one thing not to stay pure, but to indulge in pleasure every week, multiple times? That’s beyond acceptable!
How despicable your actions were, they were totally against the will of the lord. Were it even possible for someone to be lead astray from the right path so much? Partying so much, drinking, playing and doing satans work… There is no way the pleasure of the flesh would be worth that. Fyodor really couldn’t understand your ways, not like he ever tried to anyway. Instead, since this was a trial given by him by god himself, he planned on giving it his all. To get you to change your vulgar behaviour, he’ll need you to find it repulsive too. Maybe if he criticised and embarrassed you during one of your outings, you’ll be too scared to attend another one? That would be worth a try, no?
With that being said, the angel hid his beautiful pure white wings and descended upon the human realm just for you, to help you see the light and powers of god. Of course he wore clothes that didn’t show any skin, as well as hanging a cross around his neck to display his faith. Today you were going to a bar once again, who would have guessed. Fyodor was at the bar counter, looking for you all over this dirty establishment. At the same time he observed the other humans who were present. Dancing, alcohol, drugs and lust. This place was beyond saving, the people as well. He hoped he wouldn’t need to enter this place ever again.
Finally, after a long wait, he found you. Dressed in revealing clothes, smirking from ear to ear. Even if you were under the spell of the devil, fyodor had to admit that you were pretty good looking. He immediately made his way over to you, smiling, to appear friendly. It surprised you a little, that someone was heading your way without beating around the bush. The angel who was now in front of you said, “I have something to say to you, can we go to somewhere more private?” Stunned but intrigued, you agreed to his request. He looked cute after all, you wondered what he was hiding under these layers of clothing, perhaps some dirty secrets?
He really didn’t plan for this to happen, seriously. All he wanted was to talk to you, and maybe pressure or manipulate you a little. Though you seemed amused by the whole situation? Why even? Then you proposed for the two of you to go to a hotel to have an even more private talk. At first he was sceptical, but then he thought it might be your way to initiate your wish for a better environment, because you noticed how the club is a filthy place. Of course the boy obliged, yet as soon as he stepped into the room, you pushed him and pinned him to the bed.
“Wa-what..!?” He sounded shocked, absolutely confused even. His face was pressed into the pillow by your hand which was on the back of his head, your other hand appears to be on his waist. “Oh cutie, no need to play naive now, there is a reason why you came up to me no?” You’d tease while getting rid of his pants, admiring his awfully slim waist. My my, he was hiding some treasures underneath his sweater after all.
Yes, he came up to you for a reason, but not for this reason!
“No! This is dirty- you.. we shouldn’t… just let me go- ahhhH?!” Fyodor tried to reason with you, until he noticed how his shirt got yanked off. In less than a minute he was butt naked already, how shameful this was. His body wasn’t something for your eyes to see, heck, no one but god should be allowed to see him like this! Unless you two were married, that is, but it was clearly not the case here. Tears were collecting in the corners of his eyes as he gazed back at you, seeing you all prepared and ready for the deed. Your dick was already covered in lube as you lined it up against his sweet little hole, rubbing it between his asscheeks to let him have a pretty good guess on how big the thing was. Oh and how he shivered, shaking as fear and.. something hot filled his senses.
Before he got to say no a second time, you already shoved the tip in, causing him to throw his head back and grip the sheets like his life depended on it. “AaAAAhHHh..!! It hu-hurts..!” He could have spread his wings and shoved you away, though due to some unknown reasons, he didn’t. Staying put like a good and obedient birdy, hiding his face in the pillow as you slowly bottomed out inside him. “MhmMN..! Ooh! To-too deep..<3!” Fyodor would whine and complain about your size, this was his first time after all! You didn’t even prepare him… did you think he was some common, cheap and loose prostitute?
“Fuck, you are damn tight huh, you doing alright over there?” You leaned down and yanked on his hair, causing him to arch his back further. Then you groaned that into his ear, watching him quiver in response. “Uhm-aaHHhnnGhm! I- mHMm!” Poor boy can’t even form a single cohered sentence at this point, too preoccupied with the feeling of your cock inside him. How it stretched him apart, as well as how his walls pulsed and clenched around it. Oh lord.. this was too much for his innocent body to comprehend. “Haaah.. say red if it gets too much, alright? Otherwise I’ll start moving.” You warned him after he didn’t give you an answer. “Ah-no- wait, unngHh!” The moment you started moving, he started sobbing uncontrollably and praying to god. Was this really going to be how his chastity gets ruined? How he loses his innocence? By someone like you?
Dear lord, our father, please pardon him, for his pathetic, unholy and defiled form. He must look so perverted right now. Dick leaking precum everywhere as his bottom got pounded by you mercilessly. You whispered some impure words into his mouth as you did that, asking him if he’s enjoying it or demanding him to degrade himself. Each time he’d refuse and call this sinful, ungodly, and wrong as well as crying even louder. At one point the poor baby was holding onto the cross hanging around his neck with both hands, trying his best to clench onto the last bits of dignity he had as an angel.
It got increasingly harder with every trust, it made him see stars and caused his entire body to twitch like a sinner. Slowly, he could feel himself crumbling and succumb to the devil’s temptation. More pleads escaped his throat, though not even he knew for whom it was or what purpose it served. All he could think about was how sorry he was for failing his duties, and for loving every second he spend with you <3
After his third forced orgasm, the angel- if you can still call him that considering how fallen he was, got so overstimulated and fucked out of it that he completely lost himself to the bliss and ecstasy. Lust clouded and pestered his mind like some spell, it wouldn’t leave him alone. You just felt so damn good, and he adored how your length spread his insides every time you shoved it deep inside him. His own shameful body fluids were spread around the bed, dripping down his thighs, causing the entire scene to look even more erotic. Not to mention the sounds he made….
Since you’ve been fucking him for so long, even you were out of breath. But him? Oh no, he couldn’t stop. He was addicted, hypnotised, whatever you’d like to call it. This is his first time experiencing such sensations in eons, he wasn’t going to be satisfied with only three orgasms. His very first three ejaculations to be exact. You want to stop? Heck no, he’s was going to keep doing this until he exhales his last breath! He was ready to become a whore for you, your very own slut that got banned from heaven.
So the black haired boy was riding you now, bouncing up and down your dick desperately as the cross flew around with how fast he was going at it. He was drooling and melting the entire time, not a single logical thing coming out of his mouth as he blabbered something about it being too good. About how he’s sorry for getting corrupted. The little angel didn’t know, but the more he indulged in these impure pleasures, the more he fell from grace, and the more his wings darkened. The only hint he got from his deity was when the chain of his necklace broke, and his cross hit the floor. It broke into six pieces, yet he didn’t even notice. Oh what a degenerate being he has become. He was sullying gods name with his deeds..!!
At the end of it, not only him but you too were totally exhausted, so much that you both fell asleep after washing up. On the next day, you noticed something soft yet foreign hit your face. It couldn’t have been his hair, since it felt differently. When you opened your eyes, you almost jumped due to the surprise. These were wings, and gigantic ones at that. Huge, raven black wings covered the entire mattress, and it came from the back of your planned one night stand partner. Was this some cosplay? He didn’t wear this yesterday, or did he but you were drunk and didn’t notice? Nonetheless, he didn’t let you leave the bed, instead he held onto you as if his life depended on it.
When he woke up, he had heart-shaped pupils as he stared at you with such a strong want and need in his eyes. Cheeks already flushed pink even though you haven’t done anything yet. He wanted to keep going were you two left off yesterday, despite his body protesting because he was so sore. His insides have been rearranged by you after all, and if he weren’t a holy being before, he was sure his pelvis would be broken by now. You took a while to believe him, as well as understand the situation. Afterwards, you took him in, since it was your responsibility. Besides, now your guardian angel was a horny little bitch bird who is in heat 24/7, waiting to get taken by you. Maybe it will be quite fun?
Now, you made him like this. You made him dependent on the feeling of being filled to be brim and stuffed like an object. Well, at last, his actions were not in vain. You stopped going to parties and random hook ups, since you got a personal fuck toy right in the comfort of your home now <3
#sub character#sub!character#dom reader#dom!reader#sub bsd#sub bungou stray dogs#🍮 anon#sub fyodor#fyodor bungo stray dogs#fyodor dostoyevsky x reader#fyodor bungou stray dogs#fyodor bsd#fyodor#fyodor x reader#bsd fyodor#fyodor dostoyevsky bsd#bungou stray dogs fyodor#fyodor dostoevsky#fyodor x you#fyodor smut#fyodor x y/n#fyodor dostoyevsky smut#angel fyodor
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Twisted Wonderland Boys x Fem Reader in their respective Fairytales (Series)
(Idia's Part)
Previous part (Kalim)
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A/n: Out of every housewarden, I felt like sobbing writing Idia's cause of how fluffy he is, I love him so much.
Content Warning: This Fic will be tagged as 16+ since it is a bit suggestive along with mentions of Gorey themes (Azul), it’s very vague. I haven’t finished Book 6 and Book 7 because I’m stuck in Tartarus, but they’re not done here yet. Potential Inaccuracy in Indian Tradition, Indian and Greek clothing, if ever you see inaccuracy about it, please let me know, I only did a bit of research about it. The reason for potential OOC was cause I mixed both the classic Villains with the personalities of our beloved boys. You have a child with Kalim here!
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First Batch would be: Riddle, Leona, Azul
Second Batch would be: Kalim, Idia, Malleus
List of Villains interconnecting with each character:
Kalim = The sultan
Idia = Hades
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Idia:
The underworld has always been Idia’s little comfort zone, although at first, he didn’t want to rule it, due to how depressing it gets sometimes, but along with his brother Ortho who takes care of “outside” activities, aka meetings with those overbearing gods and goddesses who think they’re better than anyone, he didn’t mind the work as long as it’s with him. So far, his duties were all just about guiding souls into whatever the fuck they want or are allowed to go, honestly if they all became lost souls, he wouldn’t give a flying damn.
One day, however, an odd discrepancy appeared in the calculations of souls being accepted—an unregistered soul had entered the narrative. Concerned, he strolled toward the portal of Tartarus to investigate. When he peered inside, a sudden flash of blinding light erupted, disorienting him. Before he could react, a heavy force slammed into his body, causing him to stumble.
“What the!” he grunted, feeling a heavy body on top of him, he rubbed his head, opening his eyes, adjusting to the sudden light-to-darkness transition.
You stirred, finding your hands pinning him down. His eyes widened in shock as he pushed you off, scrambling backward so quickly that he hit his back on the wall with a loud slam.
“What In the world?!” he screeched, his hair glowing brightly meaning he was incredibly nervous, while you seemed to be lost, standing up, you pat away the dust off your outfit, taking notice of Idia who still was pressed on the wall.
“Idia?” you went closer to him, he looked like an angry kitten, glaring at you at first but the moment you got closer he stiffens up, pushing his hands to protect himself from you.
“Stay back! You anomaly!” he shouted that it echoed around the empty room, you were taken aback, “Idia, it’s me.” you said, eyebrows knitting in frustration.
“H-how do you know my name?” he asked, looking at you confusedly, were you sent by his other brother who he doesn’t even think of one, Zeus? You look kind of angelic so there’s a suspicion.
“Idia, you’re my boyfriend” Wow point blank you decided to kill him with those words, boyfriend his ass, what boyfriend, all he knows is that he prefers to be single than have a lover, also he wants to add that you are way out of his league, there’s no way you like him that way, and this is the first time you met him, was there a camera around here? The edited laughter? Where is it? He’s waiting for that to come.
Realizing that he was overthinking again, you snapped your fingers catching his attention; stating your name you tried to see if you got any reaction, but nothing. He really didn’t remember you.
You were going to be saddened by this, if it weren’t for the fact that the tips of his hairs had a slight pink on it meaning was still a chance for you to get your boyfriend back.
Okay, you two might be misunderstanding things, while Idia was observant, he can’t think straight when he’s in front of someone, his black and blue robe being a perfect cover for himself, he even had a hoodie knitted for him to cover his hair with.
You noticed that he was taller than before, raising your eyebrow, you grabbed his arm, which made him freeze up, looking at you like you just harassed him, his sweat drops. “What?”
“Since when did you get taller?” you asked, he slides your hand off of his arm, rubbing it a bit, “I don’t know?” he answered confusedly, before waving his hand dismissively, “No more questions, I’m bringing you back to Zeus” he grumbled, his stupid brother playing pranks on him again.
“What? Zeus?” you walked faster to catch up on him when he started speedwalking away, “Y’know, God of Olympus?” he said, weirded out why you didn’t know Zeus, everyone knows him.
“Wait, Zeus as in the God from long ago?” you asked further, which made Idia stop his tracks, turning to look at you, his figure looming, he looked like a grim reaper when he stands with you before, but now it’s more evident.
“What do you mean long ago?” he asked as bewildered as you are, why are you acting this way anyways? Anomaly that popped out of nowhere and almost giving him a concussion and right now you’re giving him a migraine, what’s next huh? brain aneurysm?
“Are you not my Idia?” you frowned, looking at him closer, he exhibited a different style, he was taller, slightly shorter hair, bluish skin instead of pale.
“Your” Idia? What does that mean?
The more you open your mouth the more questions pop out, sighing he decided to cover your mouth with his hand. “Please… just shut up for a minute”
Okay, first theory! You’re not from around here, I mean you just got spat out like trash by the Tartarus and suddenly proclaiming that he’s your boyfriend, he feels bad for you, your standard is in hell if you’re dating him, you’re pretty too, a disrespect to your face really.
Second theory, which he’s leaning on more, you’re a spy sent by his brother Zeus; to make him fall for you and you break his heart and upload it to magicam or something.
If you think he’s self-deprecating too much, please, he’s just being realistic with the situation.
“First off, I am not yours” he clarified, lifting his hands as if he’s surrendering to you. “I never met you in my whole life, you’re cute but no”
Rejected by your own boyfriend, you wanted to pinch his cheeks for it, you were going to be hurt by this, but the thing is, the way he acts reminded you of the first stages of your relationship with him, he wasn’t the best with it.
“Okay,” you said, being short with him, for some reason that made him feel bad, scratching the back of his neck, he wanted to hold your cheek or hand to comfort you, an odd feeling.
“Sorry- I mean if you want to, I can act like your boyfriend or something” he murmured, his voice gradually decreasing to the point you barely heard the last words.
“It’s fine Idia, no need” not wanting to force him into that kind of thing, however, you noticed that his little fire hair started to fizzle out, panicking a bit you touched his hand, holding it, “wait I mean, okay, sure we can act”
Phew, that got his fire back up, lucky you. “Okay…” he said awkwardly coughing as he uses his tech to call for Ortho. “Ortho, can you come here?”
Ortho was impressively fast with going back to the underworld, looking the same except his clothes or rather his cyborg parts looked Greek like, it explains why you were wearing a tunic.
“Scan her” Idia said, using his eyes to signal ortho who to scan, in which Ortho grins brightly. “Okay!”
You stayed still as Ortho used his eyes to scan you, it was something that came natural for you, especially since your Ortho does that often.
“So?” Idia asked, leaning on the wall, Ortho shook his head, looking conflicted. “Nope, she doesn’t have any data around Ancient Greece, or anywhere”
“Huh” he didn’t seem surprised. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, patting Ortho’s head. “Yeah! I did another scan but there’s no indication of her presence anywhere.
So, you really were just transported by Tartarus to Ancient Greece, connecting the dots, that means Idia here is…
Noticing you staring at him in deep thought He smiles a bit, you looked funny thinking like that, pouty and all. “Since you’re really not from here, my name is Idia, God of the Underworld, and this is Ortho, my brother.” Ortho waves at you enthusiastically and he was genuinely surprised that his brother introduced him instead of himself.
“I know” you hummed, crossing your arms. “I told you already, we’re dating- “
Idia tried to cover your mouth before you spout that out but failed as Ortho’s eyes widens. “You’re dating my brother in the other world?! You mean there’s another version of us in your world?”
Oh dear, you’re in it now.
Ortho basically asked you plenty of questions, already happy that his brother pulled someone like you, you were gorgeous!
Idia was a bit happy you got along with his brother, he sometimes feels bad that he keeps Ortho in such a depressing place instead of being a normal kid outside and playing.
Also he can’t help but get flustered whenever you randomly get physically affectionate with him, he’s been trying to find a way to get you back in your world, but it’s proving to be difficult since Tartarus maybe his domain, but it’s a system that’s entirely independent from him, think of it as the pity system in his gacha games, even if you hit enough 80 pulls, it doesn’t guarantee the limited character you want.
But, as long as he can, Idia tries to make sure every time he hangs out with you is worthwhile, it’s the first time he made effort to spend time with someone, when he’s off work, he finds himself going to the guest room, asking if you wanted to come eat with him and Ortho, or sometimes, you end up in his room, playing a two-player game with him.
Ever since you came into his life, he started going out of his room more, back then he usually just… does his work and go to his room. That’s all
Now he’s trying to go outside more, especially when Ortho told him that to get you back faster was by “thinking outside the box” which just meant that he should go touch some grass and let the gears in his brain think of a solution.
He didn’t really know when he fell for you, but he noticed it when you were outside with him, in the largest field that had nothing but nature around. The outfit that Ortho lend you fits your palette so perfectly, it almost made him want to take a picture.
You were admiring the view while glancing around, picking up flowers.
Confused with what you were doing he walked to you. “Hey what-“ getting cut off as you shove a bouquet of flowers on his chest, a ribbon clumsily wrapped around the stems of the flowers.
“For you” you said, smiling, making his heart skip a bit, he accepted the gift as Ortho called out for you, giving him a glance before you grab his collar, pulling him down to kiss his cheek before walking away.
That got his hair to burn bright pink, shaking from the adrenaline, he coughed awkwardly, hopefully, Ortho didn’t see what you did.
Well, he’s having a hard time finding a way to send you back home, so… it might take a while.
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A/n: ACCCCCCK IDIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA ILYSM ༼;´༎ຶ ༎ຶ༽
#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#fluff#twst idia#idia shroud#ortho shroud#idia x reader#idia twst#disney twst#twst ortho#twisted wonderland idia#idia x mc#ortho
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How would Noa react to human reader on her period? I’m currently on mine and got this thought!
It's like you and i are the same person bc im on mine too ( The first time in like three years, im SUFFERING, ) Let's get self-indulgent. YOLO.
READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. READ THE PROMPT ABOVE AND MAKE THE CHOICE IF YOU ARE OKAY WITH THIS CONTENT, OTHERWISE, PLEASE DO NOT READ. Ty ty.
Due to the environment and stress of living in the society you were placed in, your period was admittedly not regular though you tried your best to keep track of it. It got lost from time to time and you were left unsure when it would rear its ugly head back in. Sometimes, it was remarkably early by a few weeks, sometimes, it was at least a month late.
Your first period while with the Clan? You had nothing prepared. Nothing to ease your bleeding, nothing to ease yourself into some semblance of comfort. You quite frankly go into a small panic. You don’t know who to talk to - there’s no humans here, and Apes don’t bleed and have symptoms like Humans do.
Oh my god avoiding Noa for the few days out of embarrassment - How do you even begin to explain to him?
Don’t think for a moment that Noa doesn’t know something is going on.
The boy has an acute sense of smell. The roll of your pheromones, how they hit him and stuck around like a fog around his head, how they adjusted ever so slightly a few days before you began ignoring him? Noted.
You’re more hungry than usual - going for seconds at the evening meal. Nothing savory though - you stocked up on fruits and berries and just explained to him that the sweetness was more up your alley. He’d mention that maybe you should have some meat to balance but the absolute daggers you gave him caused him to never bring it up again. Noted.
The pull to your emotions, like you were swinging from a branch, back and forth not able to teether yourself to one? You began crying one day with him next to you while watching the Baby Apes play with each other. The next moment, you were snapping at him for even looking at you. Noted.
The subtle shift in your body? Becoming a bit more reserved , you often kept your hands in front of your chest, blocking him from looking at you fully? Maybe, he even notices when your arms grazed your chest that you flinched - Tender breasts. Noted.
Heightened mating the last few days? Oh, absolutely noted.
Not as tired as you though - Noa noticed you getting more tired during the middle of the day, asking him a few days before your period actually hit if you could go take a nap while he went with Soona and Anaya to fish. Noted.
You go to Soona and Dar in hopes that maybe you can talk to them about it and actually have them understand. You’re too embarrassed to bring this up to Noa and you doubted that he’d understand at all.
Noa does show up mid-conversation though- You had been talking to Soona and Dar about something from his perspective. He doesn’t take much time to notice that, letting his green eyes rest on you for a moment longer but the tone of the voice you’re using with his Mother and Soona? Quite, hushed, like you had a secret. Noa has to admit that he’s a tiny bit intrigued and he lingers, trying to pick apart the conversation despite his brain telling him not to, that it was obviously a private matter. But… The other side of him bargained and he wondered what secret you could have that you wouldn’t want him to know about. After all, you had been avoiding him for a few days and he needed to know why if that’s what you were talking to Dar and Soona about.
Admittedly, as you explained to them what was happening ( Soona and Dar ) they were more confused than you initially wanted them to be with your vague words, having to go into more detail and explain - Which was not on your bingo-card at all. You were unsure of what words/phrases they were going to understand so you had to transverse carefully around the subject. You felt like you were going to cry from embarrassment before a look of understanding flashed from Dar.
~*So, from listening to the conversation he was not supposed to be a part of, Noa gathered only a few things: you were going through something that affected females? Hence, why you went to Soona and Dar. You were embarrassed to talk to Noa about it, it must have been pretty contentious. And went through this consistently, albeit not regularly? It was a sign of Echo maturity, your body coming into its own. On a consistent basis? Noa was confused. How does your body do that?
Oh my god Noa asking you about it.
The blood rushing to your face as he mentions that he had heard you talking to his Mother and Soona. Your first instinct is to get defensive. You cross your arms in front of your chest, pretty adamant in telling him that there was nothing going on.
Noa retaliates in defense of himself and says, “I… just want to know why… you… Are ignoring me.” The spacing of his words gives away that he was being careful to choose what he told you.
Irrational anger bubbled to surface and you just snapped, “I’m on my period! Okay? I already talked to Dar and Soona about it and now you’re at my throat? Period! Is that a good enough answer for you!? It’s not always about you Noa!” You storm off, leaving the Ape bewildered.
You eventually do return an hour or so later, this time, incredibly apologetic with tears in your eyes as you’re muttering to him through a flood of tears, telling him all about what was happening and how you were feeling. Your cramps, the headache that wouldn’t go away, your insatiable need to eat everything insight, the pure driven desire you had to be both angry and sad at the same time. You even went as far as to tell him that you were indeed bleeding -Something Noa didn't have the heart to tell you that he was aware of. Remember that acute sense of smell? He noticed it. He noticed it the last few days, figuring you would bring it up when you were ready.
Noa pulls you into him, lightly pressing his forehead against yours. He’s still not 100% on the details but… He hated to see you cry. Hated to see you angry as well. He tells you that it’s okay, to calm down and that it’ll all be okay.
Those swinging emotions he recalled from a few days before your period?
Yeah, they happen during as well and you flew off the handle. “I am calm! What makes you think I’m not?” You groaned, pulling away from him, “I’m going to lay down.”
He just watches wordlessly as you walk away; wondering what he said that was so offensive.
He definitely begins to track it with fever though; just another thing for him to notice about you, and he really did his best to be accommodating despite not fully understanding the reason why you went through it. He would tell you when he knew it was coming, something that you actually came to gratefully accept because the mutiny that was your body made it hard to track yourself.
Uhm hello? Noa bringing you an herbal drink that the Elders swore by to help with mild pain in the body. Usually, it was Apes that had joint problems from age, or some from injury, but the drink did help ease your headache and cramps to a semi-bearable state.
He scours the dinner for the most sweet berries and fruits. Noa is able to tell from look and feel which ones would be more welcomed by you and he’s always so diligent to bring you two bowls. One for now, one for later.
OHHhhh my god Noa resting his hands on your stomach when you’re tangled in the nest together. He can sense the discomfort you’re in. You had tossed and turned almost the entire night, keeping the two of you awake. Now that it was dusk, you felt more at ease as he placed a hand on the lower part of your abdomen and groaned at the pleasure of feeling his heated skin.
~*Definitely becomes more of a coping action that Noa works around. If Noa senses you’re feeling either nauseated or in pain, he’s rather quick to pull you into him and ease it the best he can. Favorite position? You’re laying on your side and he is spooning you from behind. Hands on your lower stomach, lightly at first but more intense if you’re craving more pressure and heat from him. He’s noticed you like to fall asleep like that. And he’s more than willing to oblige.
Ah god the forehead touches when you have a headache? Someone sedate me.
~* He really gets into it and will wrap his hands around your head, his fingers almost meeting at the back of your neck. The heat from his hands feels absolutely euphoric against your temples as he pulls you towards him. You fall lax against him and ultimately let Noa pull you into his lap. Hands run from the back of your neck down to your lower back. He’ll place tender touches there too, knowing that lower back pain was also common.
#noa#noa x reader#listen this is so sloppy im so sorry#cryin#pota#planet of the apes#planet of the apes x reader#TW: period#kotpota#kingdom of the planet of the apes
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God Among Men.
Pairing: Avenger!Bucky Barnes x GN!Reader
Summary: After a stressful mission, your super soldier boyfriend needs you... This is literal trash. I apologize.
Warnings: SMUT. Brief mention of religious stuff. Worshipping. Misuse of religious terms. Collar and leash (it's really only mentioned like once or twice). Gender neutral reader. Blowjob. Face fucking. Finger sucking. Bucky Barnes (he's a warning). Metal arm (kink). A tad bit of hair pulling. Rough blowjob. Reader isn't the best at communicating. Praise. Some brief degradation. Voice kink (because who couldn't love that sweet baritone?). Brief mention of Shuri and Wakanda. Sir kink. Tears. Choking (from bj). Deep throating. Dom Bucky. Sub reader. Bucky's kinda rough. But also super sweet and concerned. Use of safe signal(?) like a safe word but nonverbal. Brief after care. Loosely Implied fingering/penetration afterwards. Like zero plot. Porn without Plot/Plot? What plot? Mildly dubious consent (not really, but I just want to be safe with my warnings!)
Please comment if you think I missed anything!
A/N: This is like my second or third time writing actual smut, please give me grace— Also I had this idea while sleep deprived and I'm currently stuck in artists/writers block so it's probably not my best work. But, I tried. This was written on my phone and not proofread, so I do apologize for any and all mistakes/typos.
A/N #2: I have absolutely nothing against any religions or religious people, and this is not meant to offend or target anybody in any way, shape, or form!
I do not own any characters mentioned in this story or the gif.
Dividers by @cafekitsune
18+!!! MINORS AND PEARL CLUTCHERS PLEASE DNI!!!
You were never a very religious person, having loose beliefs that you didn't necessarily align with anything specific, and you were fine with that, but that all changed one day, and in the way you least expected it. The day you first hooked up with Sgt. James Buchanan Barnes, or, as you knew him, Bucky, your best friend. You swear that night you might've been to Heaven, or Valhalla, or maybe even reached Nirvana, but whatever it was, it was caused by the super soldier Avenger fucking you into oblivion, with a godly body and otherworldly skills. Not only does he look like some mythical god, but he has the skills and the strength of one too. A god among men.
Bucky is a complicated man; He doesn't talk much, but once you get him going, he could talk to you for hours. He is tall and broad, dark and brooding, with a glare that could kill, but also sweet and soft, caring and considerate, with a smile that makes you weak in the knees... So, when your relationship evolved into something sexual, it wasn't a surprise when his prowess matched his godly looks. His quick wit matched by his skilled tongue. Strong hands matched with his (surprisingly) nimble fingers. He's also a kinky mother fucker.
Today, after Bucky got back from a rough, week long mission, apparently most of the team getting their asses kicked, you found yourself on your knees in front of him, naked, wearing nothing back a black leather collar and a silver chainlink leash, your head resting on his lap as he gently pets your cheek with his flesh hand.
"Doll," Bucky's voice is low, lower than usual, and it sends shockwaves of desire coursing through you, shocking your core.
"Yes, sir?" Your voice is soft, quiet, and shaky, a mix of nervousness, arousal, and hours of teasing from this man, this god, making you weak, your voice a minute version of it's usual sound, making Bucky chuckle.
You look up at him through heavy eyelids, your eyes raking up his body hungrily; He's wearing black sweatpants, no shirt, and you're not entirely sure about boxers. His long hair is tousled, the dark locks resting on his broad shoulders, the otherworldly muscles rippling under his skin covered in scars, his normally bright blue eyes darkened to an almost eerie tungsten blue. He's a literal god. The epitome of divinity.
"You've been so good~" Bucky practically purrs, and you already feel your abdomen tightening. "But not good enough."
Well shit.
You're definitely not getting what you want tonight.
"Talk to me, Kätzchen. Tell me what you're thinkin' about." You hesitate, but you know better than to directly disobey.
"I..." You look down, biting your lip. "I was thinking about you... H-How beautiful you are, James..."
Bucky smirks. This wasn't what he was expecting. "Oh?"
You simply nod. "Do elaborate, Kätzchen." Bucky quirks a brow, and you fight the urge to squirm in embarrassment.
"Y-You..." You sigh, deciding to bite the bullet. What's the worst that could happen? He laughs at you and uses it against you? That'd suck... but it would be a lot worse if you didn't speak. Those are always back. You don't want another spanking...and definitely not the crop. Yeah, no, that'd be bad. Better spit it out.
"You're fuckin' beautiful..." You practically whimper, and Bucky smirks.
"I know you've got more than that, sweetness." Bucky teases, and you know he's right. He's always right... It's unfair. How can a man possibly be so attractive and smart? You're starting to think he might actually be a higher power. "C'mon, doll, don't make me hit it outta ya."
Shit. That's a threat. "You're... You're a god among men, Sir... Divinity in itself... Crafted from the finest of marbles known to man... I want to submit everything I have to you."
Bucky simply smirks.
Uh oh.
"Is that so, Kätzchen?" You swallow hard, nodding, watching his eyes stare into yours with an intensity that could burn you to the ground. Yup. Definitely a god.
"Y-Yes, Sir... I... You are my god, James..." Oops. Normally Bucky doesn't take kindly to being called his name during scenes, but for some reason, he just smirks and lets it slide. That's different.
"I want my body to be your altar, your temple, your church... I am your devotee..." You whisper softly, your voice shaky and almost nervous, scared, although you're unsure what you're scared of.
"Darling..." Bucky growls, his pupils dilated so much you can barely see the ring of blue, his vibranium hand clenching on lap, his breathing picking up, that beautiful, chiseled chest rising and falling faster by the second, sweat starting to bead on his skin... You did that?
"You have such pretty lips, yet such nasty words..."
Bucky's Vibranium hand moves to the back of your neck suddenly, grabbing you by the nape of it, pushing your face into his clothed crotch, allowing you to feel the feverish heat, the wet spot on his sweats, and the rock that is his cock. "I'm not gonna last long if you keep sayin' shit like that, doll."
You whimper. Loudly. Pathetically. Lewdly. What the fuck else are you supposed to do? You just mentally brought THE Sargeant James Barnes to his knees from just a few sentences, you don't know whether to be terrified or proud... But, either way, you're not given much time to decipher how you feel, as Bucky starts to rub the side of your cheek against his strained length, the rough cotton of his sweatpants irritating your sweat shined cheeks.
"You're gonna be a good little devotee. You're gonna listen, you're gonna do as told, and you're gonna take what I give you, like a good cock slut."
Bucky's voice is a deep, dangerous growl, the sound rumbling through his chest, rolling down his abdomen and vibrating through him and into you, shooting electricity through your body, your nerves immediately on fire, your thighs quaking, your mind reeling into the abyss of lust.
"Aren't you, Kätzchen?" Bucky says with a groan, looking at you expectantly, a dark smirk on his face.
"Y-Yes, Sir... I will... I'll b-be good..." You whimper out, look up at him with doe eyes, fighting the urge to look down as he slides his sweatpants to his ankles, tossing them aside.
Bucky gently cups your chin with his vibranium hand, the dark metal shining in the dimly lit room as he puts his thumb against your lips, grinning at the feeling. "Open."
You immediately do as told, parting your lips, slowly swirling your warm tongue around his thumb as he slides the cool metal into your mouth, causing Bucky to groan sorry... It's moments like these when Bucky is most grateful to Shuri for creating touch sensors in the arm, allowing him to feel everything you do to his Vibranium arm... Wakandan technology truly is incredible.
"That's a good little whore..." Bucky groans as he uses his thumb in your mouth to tilt your head down, your eyes widening as they meet the sight of Bucky's cock.
Huh. He wasn't wearing any boxers.
"Let this be your first sacrament, devotee." Bucky chuckled.
Long. Impressive. Intimidating. Yet another reason you're starting to think he might actually be a god. No matter how many times you see it, swallow it, and take it, it's always just as intimidating as the first time. His cock is tall, curving slightly as it goes up, getting redder until it gets to the almost purple tip, your hand barely able to wrap around the girth, one large vein going from the shaft to the tip, where creamy pre-cum is beading. You might as well be salivating...and shaking in fear.
"C'mon, doll, I know you can take it." Bucky purred, wrapping his vibranium hand in your hair, guiding your face to rub against his length. It's almost humiliating. But it's also beyond arousing.
"Yes, sir." You mutter softly, licking your lips, raising your head when Bucky loosens his grip on your hair. You spit on the head of Bucky's cock, causing it to twitch where it stands, before gently wrapping your mouth around the tip, your tongue swirling around the tip, teasing the slit, causing Bucky to groan.
"Your god is losing patience, Kätzchen." Bucky growls, before tightening his vibranium hand in your hair, violently pushing your head down his cock, his length forcefully sliding down your velvety throat, only stopping when your nose is flush with his pelvic bone, groaning as he revels in the feeling, hissing as his head falls back in pleasure. "Shiiiit— So warm, Kätzchen...like fuckin' silk, doll..."
To nobody's surprise, you choke, choke hard, coughing around Bucky's member, who simply enjoys the way your throat constricts when you do so. Tears quickly form, as you try to focus on relaxing your throat and taking deep breaths in through your nose, but are quickly cut off as Bucky pulls your hair back, sliding your mouth off his length before pushing your head back down.
"Fuckin' perfect... gorgeous little devotee..." Bucky groans, starting to roll his hips as he continues to roughly guide your head up and down his cock, face fucking you as you cry and choke. Yup. You definitely fucked up calling him James.
Bucky had been tense since he texted you from the Quinjet, so when he starts to throb in your mouth rather than usual, you're not necessarily surprised, that mission really took a toll on him. You hollow your cheeks, and start gently scraping your teeth against Bucky's length as he continues to thrust into your face, his balls slapping against your chin with every snap of his strong hips.
"That's it, Kätzchen, worship me, your fuckin' god-"
Fuck, you were dizzy.
Your eyes start to roll back, head feeling fuzzy, your body seeming heavier, the restricted intake of oxygen starting to get to you, as more tears fall, but being the absolute bitch you are for Bucky, you're determined to make him cum before taking a breather.
"C'mon, babydoll, I'm so close... Lemme cum in your pretty little mouth... Let me desecrate the perfect altar that is you..." He groans, his hips snapping harder, shuddering at your teeth scraping his skin, only to be soothed by your hollowed cheeks and hot throat.
Your vision was starting to get fuzzy around the edges, but you still didn't communicate your need to breathe... Instead, you move your hands up to cup his heavy balls, massaging them roughly as you suck harder at his length.
That was all it took.
"Fuck!"
Bucky growls, the sound dark and primal, sending jolts of pleasure to your deprived body, his flesh hand joining his vibranium one in your hair, holding you uncomfortably flush to his skin as his cock throbs, pulsing rapidly as rope after rope of hot cum spills down your throat, your hands still massaging his balls as they empty into you, your muscles working overtime to swallow it all... Since being with him, you found that super soldiers have loads like damn fire hydrants. Not that you're complaining. Usually.
"Baby... Ughhh—" You had expected Bucky to pull you off his cock once he finished, but he didn't, instead he held you flat to his pelvis, basking in the feeling of your hot, velvet throat surrounding him, groaning and growling in pleasure.
You couldn't do it. Your vision was completely blurred, tears still falling, your feelings like concrete, sweat pouring down you, your mind fogged like shower glass. You take your right hand, tapping your index, middle, and ring finger on his thigh three consecutive times.
He immediately pulls your head off his length, pulling you up to his lap as you cough and suck in heavy breaths.
"Doll? Doll, are you alright? Did I hurt you?" Bucky asks hurriedly, his vibranium hand holding you close to him and rubbing your back, while his flesh hand gently holds your face. "Darling, can you hear me? Are you okay?"
It takes you a few moments to process his words, as they sounded more like mumbles from underwater at first. But, as your vision cleared, your tears stopped, the fogginess left your mind, and your breathing started regulating, you finally registered his words and nodded yes. "Y-Yeah... I- I'm fine..." You murmur with a raspy voice, your throat scratchy from the rough blowjob.
Bucky sighed in relief, brushing away your tears with his flesh hand, peppering kisses on your face. "Alright..." He didn't sound too convinced, worried he hurt you, but decided to focus on cleaning you up and caring for you.
He grabbed the pack of baby wipes from the table next to the chair you two are on, taking one out, gently wiping your flushed face clean of the saliva, sweat, cum, and tears. He then opened a bottle of water, gently holding it to your lips. "Have some water, baby." He murmurs as he helps you take small sips, putting it down after about ¼ of the bottle is gone.
"There you go, Kätzchen...You did so good, I'm so damn proud of you, love." Bucky praised softly, pulling you closer to his chest and rocking side to side gently.
"Th-Thank you..." You murmur quietly, your voice still a little raspy, as you tuck your head in Bucky's neck, your sweat covered bodies moulding together, as Bucky's flesh hand slowly creeps down to your sex. "Time for your reward."
#mcu#marvel mcu#marvel#bucky barnes#mcu bucky barnes#james bucky barnes#james bucky buchanan barnes#mcu bucky#bucky arm#buckybarnes#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes one shot#bucky barnes oneshot#bucky barnes smut#james buchanan bucky barnes#bucky x reader#bucky x reader smut#smut#bucky barnes x reader smut#bucky smut#bucky fanfic#marvel fanfiction#fanfic#smutish#bucky x reader fanfic#marvel fandom#marvel fic#bucky is bae
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SO MUCH TO LOSE PART 12
rating: 18+
tags: mentions of death, mentions of violence, fingering, dirty talk, jealousy, angst.
a/n: I'm sorry y'all lunch with friends ran late and it's definitely not the afternoon anymore! But here it is! I know y'all have waited a long time for this so I hope its to your liking. It's over 12,000 words and I swear I could write more but then I'd never publish anything. You know your comments and reblogs make me continue on, so please don't forget to do one of the other or even better, both!
masterlist here
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"Wake up."
You jolt awake, eyes blowing wide. You instinctively go for the clock at your beside at home but it's not there. Nothing is where it usually is. As your sleepy mind clears you see two brown eyes staring down at you.
"Time to go. Get dressed."
You clothes are dried and laying beside you on the couch and the dead fire. The already dressed Joel leaves the room likely to give you privacy. You get dressed in a hurry, pulling your clothes and boots on before stumbling after Joel.
"Did you sleep much?"
"Yep. Plenty."
You don’t believe him. There are large circles under his eyes and he yawns so wide that his jaw cracks. You think maybe he got an hour tops.
You follow him down to see the horses huddled up together in the center of the room. Joel obviously used two of the blankets from upstairs because they’re thrown over each of the horses’ backs. They give a soft whinny as the two of you approach.
“Sure am missing breakfast,” you muse with a sleepy smile. “Even that oatmeal that sticks to the roof of my mouth.”
Joel’s mouth curls a bit at one side in amusement. You busy yourself with kissing Chestnut’s muzzle once more before you feel Joel tap you.
“Here.”
You glance over to see Joel holding a piece of jerky out to you. You take it gratefully before pausing.
“Wait, isn’t this your portion?”
“Ate mine already.”
He’s lying.
He gave you all the jerky. Let you drink the rest of his coffee. Even shared his precious whiskey.
“You sure?”
Joel hefts the saddles onto each of the horses, making sure that they’re secured as you gaze at him in question. He feels you staring at him and instead of his usual snark he just glances over gives you a nod.
“Ready to go?”
“Mhm.”
You and Chestnut follow he and Midnight out the house, helping the horses to slowly maneuver down the icy steps into the snow. Even after the storm it comes to above your ankles. Joel frowns, looking down at it.
“We’re gonna have to walk ‘em back. Don’t trust that they won’t hurt themselves in all this.”
“Of course.”
You trail after him, eyes stuck on the ground in front of you.
Joel leads, you follow.
And instead of angering you or making you feel small and useless, it makes you bloom. Like a flower warmed by the sun, its petals unfurling. You feel yourself smiling to yourself a big, toothy grin that you’re glad Joel can’t see. He’d ask you why and you’re not sure that you could answer him sufficiently. You don’t quite understand it yourself.
The walk back is long, especially with the horses moving unsteadily over the snow. Thankfully Chestnut is easily led, unlike last night. The worst of the storm is behind you, leaving only the crunch of icy snow and trees heavy with white.
Your cheeks and end of your nose are pink from the cold, the scarf tight around your throat. Your fingers are warm in your gloves and you're relieved that everything dried sufficiently in front of the fire last night. You glance at Joel’s broad back, suddenly fixated on an errant thought.
“Joel can I ask you something?”
He visibly cringes. “What?”
“How did you get so good at shooting and fighting?”
His shoulders relax. “Practice.”
“You didn’t fight or shoot before Outbreak Day?”
“Only when I had to get Tommy out of scrapes,” Joel says quietly and you notice he’s slowed his walking until you’ve matched paces and you’re both walking side by side. “I did some boxing when I was younger. Didn’t have much time when Sar- when I got older. The shooting came after. A necessary skill when you’re smugglin’.”
You nod, knowing that he was about to bring up his daughter. Despite the closeness you feel, you have no desire to delve into that very heavy topic. You’re curious about his smuggling as well, but you don’t want to bring that up either as it seems strangely personal.
“You learn pretty quick that anything can be a weapon,” Joel continues on as if you’re a particularly engaged student. “A book, a candlestick, even an unloaded gun can hit a pretty bad blow to the base of someone’s skull. You might not kill ‘em but you’ll hurt ‘em enough to get away.”
To you a book is a book, a candlestick a candlestick. You don’t see things as potential weapons, only for their intended uses
“I never really thought of that,” you admit. “Although I wish I was more of a natural at shooting.”
"Needed to keep up with your lessons," Joel murmurs and you think you hear a softening of his tone. "I could try teachin' you again."
"I've already got someone teaching me," you tell him, back straight and standing tall. You tell Joel this in the pathetic hopes that it will impress him, that he will see how you’re really trying. But instead he scowls at the air in front of him.
“If it’s that Luke boy you’re better off goin’ in blind,” Joel says, eyes fixed in front of him. “He couldn’t even hit a nail straight. Some fuckin’ cabinetmaker.”
Luke is most assuredly not a boy; he’s at least thirty five. Joel calling him a boy makes you smirk despite being irritated at the insult to your friend.
“You don’t even know Luke.”
Joel looks sullen and you're confused that he's angry again. You really can't anticipate his moods.
The two of you continue on in silence and you think that Joel seems a bit irritated for some reason you can’ unearth. Likely just exhausted like you are after a stressful day and uneven sleep.
"Thought you wanted to be a good shot?” Joel says suddenly, glancing at you over his shoulder. “You need a competent teacher."
"I have a competent teacher and it isn't Luke anyway," you bite off, a line of irritation slicing between your brows.
"Who? Aaron? Greg?" Joel's voice is hard edged. His pace increases with every name said. "Kevin?"
“If you must know its Jennifer,” you sigh, irritable from your poor sleep and Joel’s sudden sullenness.
"Jennifer?" Joel's brows untie his features relaxing.
“I know how much you hate me bringing her up,” you sneer. “But I can’t really avoid it now can I?”
Joel gives a grunt by way of reply all the while your mind drifts to your friend. The girl who likes Joel and has for a long while. Jennifer the girl who has always been up front and honest with you.
What will you tell her?
He's quiet with you on the walk back and you wonder if he's distracted like you. He's likely tired like you are, muscles aching from the lumpy couch. Now you know how those muscles feel against your cheek and the memory makes you feel tingly.
In your distracted state and the slick of the snow you tumble, landing on your hands and hissing. Angry tears well in your eyes and you wince at the way your wrist smarts.
"Fuck."
Your knees and are wet from snow and you miserably wait for the chastising or rolled eyes shot your way by Joel. Instead you hear the crunch of snow and he's there half-crouched in front of you, one hand on Midnight's reins, the other held out to you.
You stare at it a moment, the glove wide and cracked with age. Then finally you take it, lifting your eyes to his. You're surprised to find concern.
"You alright?"
"Yeah."
"You good to keep goin'?"
"Uh huh."
He nods and then he turns, dropping your hand and striding back with the horse towards the trail.
You watch the back of Joel's head as he saunters ahead of you, listening to his quiet murmurs to Midnight and fixating on the loose curl of his hair at the nape of his neck. You're captivated by the interwoven strands of dark brown and grey that glint like tinsel in the light of the morning.
You're concerned that the thought of Joel makes your belly grow warm and tighten. The man who previously drove you insane with irritation now lingers in your thoughts almost pleasantly.
He shared things with you. Things you have a feeling he doesn't share with many others. He told you about Tess and he wanted to know about you. So what does that mean? Does he see you as more than just a pleasurable release?
Do you want him to?
You don't know how to feel about Joel right now. And you don’t know what you’re going to tell Jennifer if she asks.
When you cross into Jackson City cold and exhausted a few hours later you're surprised to hear loud commotion behind the wall and electrified fence.
"It's them!"
"Open the fucking gate!"
You and Joel exchange a brief look before the entrance is opened to you and you stalk forward. You see the large group gathered at the wall on the other side, thankful that the snow has been shovelled.
The entrance to the gate is full of the other patrol members looking like they're about to head out. You glance behind you to see the snow storm kicking back up just as the gate is closed and locked securely behind you. You glance back at the
Tommy is giving a relieved huff of air as he sees you both slowly make your way inside the walls, the horses trailing after you.
Jennifer is atop Glimmer; talking animatedly to a new patrol person you don't know. She looks beside herself, her eyes red-rimmed. When she turns back and sees you she lets out a choked sob and scrambles off Glimmer before she runs in your direction, nearly tackling you into a tight embrace.
"I was so worried," she says, voice shaky. "Luke and I were up all night just waiting for word. I was gonna go with the search party and-and-"
"I'm here in okay," you say with a slight laugh, your arms banding around her as she hiccups a cry into your shoulder. "I swear I'm okay."
You notice the timid form of Ellie over Jennifer's shoulder. She sees you first and casts a brief smile at you before her eyes search the crowd for Joel. When she hears him snapping at Tommy to give him breathing room you see the tears she blinks back. You watch as Ellie slips through the crowd chasing after his voice.
When she gets to him there's no hesitation on his part. He brings her into his arms and murmurs something into her ear. Ellie's face crumples but she buries it in the front of Joel's jacket, her tiny hands gripping the front of it.
She loves him so much.
You catch his eye over Ellie's head, not missing the gentle nod he casts your way. It warms you deeply. Things feel different between the two of you.
'I'm so glad you're okay," Jennifer says wiping the tears from her cheeks and drawing your attention back to her. "I just ... I was so scared."
"Me too," you nod, surprised to find yourself choked up. You haven’t had friendship like this before – the kind of tenderness that comes with true companionship. You wonder if this is how every friendship is supposed to feel and if so, you mourn that it took you this long to stumble upon it.
The tall, lanky form of Luke steps forward from the murmuring crowd his face breaking into a relieved expression. He jogs over in your direction and takes you aback by gathering you into his arms and rocking you tightly against him.
“Thank fuck!”
You giggle in his neck, inhaling the soft, warm scent of coffee and wool from his scarf. He holds you like this for several moments, tenderly and with affection.
"I know you wanted an adventure but honestly," he says with mock irritation into your hairline.
Laughter bubbles from the three of you, relieved and silly. You hug him back tightly, thankful for the relationships you've built, thankful for the levity he's bringing to the moment. Grateful that you found he and Jennifer at the end of the world.
You hear a throat clear behind you and you turn in Luke's grip.
Joel stares back at you, mouth in a thin line. He's got Ellie tucked under one arm, Tommy at his side and several of the others attempting to talk to him. But he’s still, the only movement his dark eyes taking you in.
You break away from Luke and move towards Joel, feeling overcome with emotion. Last night could have been so terrifying if not for the broad man standing in front of you. A sensation of deep gratitude curls around your ribs, lessening the anxiety you would normally feel in his presence.
"Thank you for everything, Joel."
You give him a warm smile, even going so far as to touch your hand to his forearm. Ellie watches this, a faint smile settling over her lips as your glove makes contact with his jacket.
You wait for that same quiet kindness from Joel that accompanied you home this morning and are confused when he pulls back from your hand stiffly, his voice melting into that familiar husky baritone.
"Mind movin' outta the way sometime this year?"
And just like that in the blink of an eye the old Joel is back. That same haughty glare, the same squaring of his jaw. You deflate, shoulders slumping before you move backwards.
Nothing has changed.
He strides by your group, the feel of his leather jacket dragging across the back of your glove.
"Must be exhausted after last night," Jennifer surmises, watching after him a moment. "You must be too."
You watch after Joel and Ellie, seeing the rigid way he walks beside her now. You think of Joel’s changeable moods and you exhale softly.
"Yeah," you nod. "I am."
///
Jennifer insists on walking you home and makes sure you are taken care of. She draws you a bath and leaves to bring you back a warm lunch from the dining hall. She makes sure your bed is changed with fresh sheets, warming them with a water bottle from her place. She even offers to sleep on your couch in case you need anything that first evening back.
“You don’t have to do that,” you insist that evening before the fire, your robe tightly around you and socks toasty from being propped up by the flames. It reminds you of how cold you were with Joel only a day ago.
You’re close to falling asleep but you like having Jennifer in the house, nearby. You like the sound of clattering dishes and her chirping away about something in town before she’s tucked up on one side of the couch, her hands around a warm mug of tea.
“I can’t thank you enough for all of this,” you tell her, feeling moved.
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s something to me.”
Jennifer smiles and you watch how the fire warms her face in an entirely different way than Joel. Instead of looking intimidating, it’s like she softens in the warm light. She looks sad though in a way you don’t recall from before.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you here,” she finally says with a cracked chuckle, her long neck bobbing as she swallows.
“Yeah right. You have so many friends,” you say. “I’ve barely ever seen you alone. You always have company.”
“Company, but not real friends,” she tells you. “Not ones who don’t judge me.”
You recall your initial judgments of the beautiful, blonde Jennifer. That she was giggly and frivolous and that she lived to gather men. You’d had no idea of her tough upbringing, of all she sacrificed, of her talents, of her unending support. You wonder how many others you judged in your life and missed out on the pleasure of knowing.
“I judged you,” you tell her honestly. “When I first met you I thought you were a vapid, pretty flirt.”
Jennifer is immediately laughing across from you, wiping the tension from your face.
“Yeah but everyone makes judgments like that with strangers! I made judgments about you before I got to know you too.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I thought you were an antisocial bitch,” Jennifer says with a crooked grin and you can’t help but bark out a laugh in reply.
“What?”
“You never spoke to anyone, never smiled. You were always reading or walking off by yourself.” Jennifer smirks. “You intimidated the shit out of me.”
“No,” you say in awe. “I intimidated you?”
“Of course!” Jennifer giggles. “So serious and always reading. Plus you just carried yourself in a way that felt. . . it felt like you had walls up, you know?”
You realize that Jennifer is very astute amongst her other gifts.
“Then I saw Ellie with you that morning,” she adds. “And I figured, maybe like Joel there was more to you than met the eye. Then I heard you were on patrols with Joel and the rest is history.”
Yeah, the rest is history.
You can’t help but curl your lip in amusement. Who knew a chance patrol pairing could lead you into a friendship you’d never thought possible? Jennifer shuffles back on the couch, looking cozy in her latest fashion piece (a cable knit looking sweater with felted strawberry accents).
Jennifer is quiet, staring into the fire. She seems strangely stoic today and you feel like it’s not just from your disappearance. You give her a sidelong glance, lips pressed tightly together. She looks off into middle distance, her normally mirth-filled eyes suddenly hollow.
"You okay, Jen?"
She doesn’t reply, only turns her head to glance in your direction when you prompt her with a gentle tap to her wrist, settling back into the couch before turning to look at you head on.
“Just a tough time of year,” Jennifer acknowledges as she tosses a twig in the fire. She looks different tonight, like a ghostly version of herself.
You surmise that perhaps with the approaching holidays she’s feeling down in the mouth. It's like that with lots of folks. You shift your body to face her, showing her that you're listening and you wait for her to talk, holding the silence for her.
She looks to be fighting an internal debate.
"I shot a kid."
She says it with a choke, as if the words are fighting to come loose from her throat. These weren't the words you'd been expecting from the beautiful, flirty Jennifer. These words are ugly, twisted and cold.
“I’ve only told a few people,” she adds, chin wobbling.
You stare at her, eyes unwavering, waiting. Words aren't your strong suit. All you can offer her is a steady silence. She absently scratches at the side of the warm mug she holds.
"This was years ago around this time," she continues, her eyes downcast. "I was with my brothers and we were going through to one of the safety zones. We'd found this old market, had some tinned goods. My brothers go to check out the back and I go down an empty aisle thinking I might find something useful."
Jennifer swallows harshly, her teacup held so tightly her knuckles look parchment white.
"All of a sudden this kid comes out of nowhere. Couldn't have been more than ten. He's skin and bones, wild eyes saying these words over and over, a bunch that I don't understand. He had a knife in his hand and I thought he was trying to come for me. I didn't even think, I just raised the gun and I shot him between the eyes."
You can almost hear the echo of that gunshot in the silent room now.
Jennifer is staring over your shoulder, like she can see the ghostly apparition of the fallen child behind you. It makes goosebumps rise along your body, and you continue to keep your even silence. You know that she doesn't want you embrace or your pity, just your presence.
"My brother's told me I did what was smart,” Jennifer whispers. “Told me to move on. But his face when he was dead, his shrieking, it just kept playing over and over in my head. When I went to bed, when I woke up. It felt wrong."
Tears slide down her cheeks now, as quick as she brushes them away with the edge of her sweater, new ones appear, soaking into the wool.
"I came to Jackson a few months after that. My brothers wanted to keep goin', they heard about some place in Canada that they thought would be a better fit for us. But... I needed a fresh start where no one knew me, where I could be someone totally new. They were upset to leave me, but I pretty much insisted on it."
You shift in your seat, listening intently. Jennifer has this sickening look on her face and you know behind her eyes is a memory of this terrible experience. It makes you want to hold her hand but she’s folded into herself and you don’t want to force her into anything.
"So I was living here in Jackson a few months and I’m at the dining hall one night and I hear this woman speaking another language. At first I barely notice, but then I realize this word keeps popping up. Pomoz. Pomoz. Same as that kid."
At this point Jennifer places her empty teacup on the aged wood coffee table. She stretches her long legs before pulling them to her chest. She sniffs again, unable to meet your gaze.
"Turns out he was speaking Polish. So I tell the lady the sentence that has been haunting me for months and months and I ask her for the translation." Jennifer swipes along the bottom of her runny nose with the back of her sweater.
"You know what he was saying?"
You don't move. Not even to shake your head.
"He was saying help me. I'm lost." Jennifer's lower lip trembles. "Pomóż mi, zgubiłem się. He was just a kid begging for my help and I shot him dead without thinking."
Now the sobs come, wracking her slim body as she curls into herself.
"That little b-boy died on a dirty supermarket floor alone and scared because of me."
You can't help it if it isn't in your nature; your hands go to Jennifer's and hold tightly. And when her warm teardrops land on the back of them you move forward to wrap her in your arms. You haven’t held someone to comfort them in so long that it feels foreign to you, but you grip her tightly, letting her tears soak the front of your nightdress.
You don’t offer her saccharine words of comfort, you don’t give her pity, you just hold her until the tears stop flowing and her breathing returns to normal. Even after all of that you continue to hold her until she squeezes back, letting you sit there in the quiet night.
"Thank you," Jennifer finally says in a croaked voice before pulling back. You tilt your head at her.
"For what?"
"For letting me talk about this stuff and not judging me." She pushes her hair from her glassy eyes.
"You did what anyone else would have done," you assure her honestly. “I know you don’t believe it, but you did. How could I judge that?”
"I think you're the first person who I ever told this to who didn't look at me like I was a piece of shit," she says with a forced laugh. You shake your head.
"I could never look at you like that.”
She gives you a wry smile. "Oh yeah? Why's that? Cuz I taught you to shoot?"
You give her a weak smile in return.
"Because... You reminded me about the good parts of life. Of having friends and singing and drinking tea. You made me leave my cave and come blinking out into the sunshine again."
Jennifer looks moved by your words, her large eyes growing glossier.
"I think that's why I wanted to get to know you," Jennifer observes with a sniffle. "It felt like you were outrunning something too. Trying to forget."
You look at your hands in your lap before giving a resolute nod.
"Yeah."
"Sometimes I think that's why I like to distract myself with crushes or teaching people to shoot or makin' dresses," she muses. "Being alone with my thoughts too much is..."
She doesn't finish that thought but she doesn't need to.
You couldn't understand more.
And then its like she’s trying to push back this burdensome memory and she forces a smile to her face. You can see her adopting this persona, this safety person that she hides behind. Happy, bright, Jennifer who flirts and shoots and rides horses and drinks beer at the Bison. And you let her slip into this character because you are no one to judge how a person chooses to survive.
“So tell me, what was it like being there with Joel at night?” she asks with a sidelong smirk in your direction. “I know he’s not your favorite person.”
Before when Jennifer asked you about Joel it used to irritate you. You thought she was using you for your information. But when she asks you now there’s nothing but amusement, like two grade-school girls discussing their crush from third period biology.
“I thought about you actually,” you grin toothily. “Thought about how you’d give anything to swap spots with me.”
Jennifer does a fake swoon, falling dramatically backward; the back of her hand on her forehead and you can’t help but bust out giggling. Jennifer giggles right back, sitting back up and bouncing in her seat.
“Tell me everything!”
You can’t tell her everything.
You give her the bullet points; the thundersnow, the horses, Joel’s calves. You leave out that you were both naked under the blankets sharing whiskey, you leave out that he went down on you for hours and you definitely leave out the part about waking up against him and falling back asleep.
“He took really good care of me,” you finish up honestly. “I thought he was gonna be a jerk but he was great.”
“Really?” Jennifer almost beaming, like she’s proud she was right about him all along.
“Yeah, I was really scared and he was really patient that night.”
“See? I told you there was something to him.”
“I guess,” you shrug. “I think it was a storm thing though. He’s gone back to being an asshole so I wouldn’t hold my hopes up.”
“Did he mention me by any chance?”
You think of how to frame this. Yeah, Joel did mention Jennifer but none of his comments were particularly flattering. But when you recall how he looked at her coming back you think it might have been to cover up his feelings. He doesn’t seem like someone who can come out and express how he feels properly.
“Yeah, actually. You came up a few times.”
Jennifer giggles to herself and you know she wants to ask more about this but you’re tired and yawning and not long after she insists you go to sleep.
Your bed has never felt more comfortable but sleep takes its time coming to you. It keeps replaying the night before; the way Joel’s dark eyes reflected the fire, the strength of his hands on your body, his tongue between your legs.
You wish your mind didn’t keep going back to last night because all you can focus on is that Joel made you come, asked for nothing in return and then in the morning made it seem like nothing happened. Then as soon as you entered inside Jackson City he made it seem like he was furious with you.
The way he acted makes you wonder if you'd imagined all his kindness and his soft touches. But no, you can still feel the sensation of his tongue between your folds, his calloused hands on your thighs, the husky groan ordering you to come. You can't stop thinking about it, actually.
It’s there lulling you to sleep, a warmth simmering in your belly.
///
You sleep in the next day, well past the breakfast hour. You don’t mind though, Jennifer had you stuffed with food up until she left at midnight telling you she could stay if you needed her to. You’re still not used to this kind of friendship, still wary that it seems too good to be true.
A glance out the window shows that some snow has fallen since yesterday, but nothing too much. Outside your street is barely touched, the sun shining gently on the earth’s creation.
You get dressed quickly, padding yourself with extra warm clothes, your red scarf and your jacket. You pull on your boots dried by the previous day’s fire and you step into the chilly mid-morning.
You like to go to the quiet parts of Jackson for your walks, enjoying the solitude. It’s in the outer part of Jackson without being in the forest, a place you never venture to. It’s an abandoned neighborhood with old houses, fencing and more.
A sharp bark is at your back and you turn to see the familiar panting dog clumsily making his way over to you through the snow.
“Hey Buckley,” you coo when he gets close enough.
Buckley is a famous figure that roams Jackson City, a dog that belongs to everyone in a way. You think you heard someone say he was a border collie mixed with something else. He’s not always in town, often he’s found by the hydroelectric dam when he’s not snoozing at Gustavo’s feet listening to the banjo.
“You being a good boy?” you muse, scratching the back of his ear when he cocks his head.
He’s a friendly dog, rarely without his prized tennis ball. He doesn’t have it with him now, and you assume he’s lost it in the snow. You shake your head at him with a soft huffing laugh.
“You wanna join me on my walk?”
Sometimes it strange to walk through the underdeveloped parts of Jackson City. The ones with power lines that poke out like jagged tombstones. The asphalt that’s cracks when you walk on it during the hot months. But you come to stand before one of your favorite buildings, the ranch, smiling as the gentle breeze turns your cheeks pink. Buckley follows at your heels, the two of you slowed down by the snow.
You avoid the forest for obvious reasons, but you enjoy walking by the old ranch because it reminds you of the kind of place you read about in books. You think that it would be nice to live in it one day. You found it once during one of your morning walks when you first arrived at Jackson City, and it’s been a sort of touchstone for you ever since.
You walk up its creaking porch steps, your fingers touching the porch swing. You can imagine it spruced up, drinking lemonade while you watch the sunset. It’s a nice fantasy, but it will remain just that. You have no building skills, you are a single occupant and you imagine when Jackson City gets big enough they’ll reserve this place for a big family or turn it into something vital.
You walk inside, immediately at ease with the gold sun of the morning that filters in through the grimy windows. The entire place is built with that warm, honey-colored wood. Threadbare carpets litter the spaces, old furniture still standing. Buckley remains outside, keeping watch as is his prerogative. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him inside anywhere.
You move over the creaking floors, taking in the dusty floors before you touch the sails of the decorate boat resting on the mantle above the hearth, a little tradition of yours. Moth-eaten curtains hang like sad bits of hair over the windows, and you gasp a little when a rat skitters by in the dining room, going to hide in one of the old cabinets. With all the cold weather they are urged indoors and you have no desire to hurt them; that’s Buckley’s job.
You’re about to head upstairs when something in the next room stops you. The kitchen area creaks with the unmistakable sound of slow, heavy footsteps. Immediately you straighten, hands going for a gun that you’re not carrying.
Fuck.
What are you gonna do? Panic threatens to seize you until a voice; low and husky is there at your ear, quelling your heartbeat.
You learn pretty quick that anything can be a weapon. A book, a candlestick, even an unloaded gun can hit a pretty bad blow to the base of someone’s skull. You might not kill ‘em but you’ll hurt ‘em enough to get away.
Your eyes go wide, taking in the mantle behind you once more. The candlesticks aren’t that heavy, the sailboat decorative. There are some books in the next room but you’ll be seen. Then your eyes drift down to the hearth and you feel relief when you see the fire implements there. You grab the poker, sure not to upset the other brass items into clanging.
The footsteps are continuing getting closer and you force yourself to remember what Jennifer has been teaching you: slow your breathing, focus, think of something that takes you to that quiet place.
Homemade pies.
Lavender soap.
Sunlight on a summer morning.
Joel’s eyes.
Before you can consider this train of thought a figure suddenly makes their way around the corner of the room, looking curiously at their surroundings. You raise the poker above your head, charging at them with a furious shriek.
The man jumps back from you, watery pale eyes bulging out of his ruddy skull. He falls backwards onto the ground, holding a hand up to shield his face as you prepare to bring the poker down on his head.
“Please! Please! I live here! Please don’t hurt me!”
Something in the frantic way he yelps stills your motions, your breathing ragged as adrenaline courses through you. You lower the poker to your side, still not releasing it entirely.
He’s short and portly and he doesn’t look particularly frightening lying there quivering on the ground.
“You don’t live here,” you tell him sharply. “This place is empty.”
“I meant I live here in the community,” the man squeaks. He can’t be younger than sixty. “Well, in a sense. I-I mean, we just got here y-yesterday. I was just looking for the soap maker; I was told she’s nearby?”
You don’t sense any real danger from this man and now you step forward, holding a hand out to him. He winces at first, thinking you mean to hit him. Then he realizes you’re not threatening him and he takes your hand gingerly.
“I’m sorry,” the man says with his voice wobbling as you pull him to a stand. “I didn’t mean to startle.”
“It’s fine. I’ve just never run into anyone here. Raiders have been seen nearby and it’s a bit high tension around lately,” you explain.
“Oh I see,” the man nods. “That explains the welcome.”
You can’t help but laugh softly at that.
“I'm Arthur," the man says shaking your hand as you introduce yourself.
Normally you would keep to yourself, but today feels different. You feel different. It prompts you to keep your face pointed to the pale man.
"You said you were new to Jackson?"
"Wife and I just arrived last night," Arthur says with a shy smile, pushing his glasses up his narrow nose. "I'm still getting my bearings. She was so excited to have running water so I was looking for soap. Someone in town told me there’s a soap maker in this direction."
“I’ll show you the way,” you say, placing the fire poker back with the other instruments beside the hearth.
“Really?”
“Sure. Follow me.”
The two of you walk into the chill of the day, Buckley standing to attention when the two of you exit. You introduce Arthur to the dog and the two of you start on your journey. Arthur is a slow walker, especially in the snow, so it takes a bit longer than you normally would.
But strangely you don’t mind. You think you might be feeling powerful from earlier; you knew what to do in a time of panic. It makes you smile, your entire disposition cheerful as Arthur talks on next to you.
“I’d like to find some work as soon as possible.”
"Of course," you nod. "You have any experience in anything?"
"Not unless someone wants their portrait done," Arthur says with a smile that shows his crowded incisors. "Back in the QZ I did some teaching. Art classes and the like."
"They could always use someone like that here," you reason.
"You think?"
"I'm sure of it. Maybe at the school? What does your wife do?"
"Penny was in the business sector before the outbreak. In the QZ she did more manual positions, disposal that sort of thing. Do you think you could find her work in something similar here?"
"Oh, I'm not in charge if that sort of stuff," you smile. "But I know who is. I'll see her this week and tell her you're eager to help out. Can I get your address?"
They live at 64 Pine and while Arthur is more of the creative type, he and his wife both have experience with cooking as well. You make a note of this for when you see Maria later this week.
Normally Maria would be on top of this sort of thing. Before Douglas' she always gave the tour's to newcomers, always had them sorted with a job before the end of their first week. But now she's distracted and subsequently Tommy is too.
People like to give, she told you that first week. Makes them feel like they’re part of something.
You and Arthur chat companionably with Buckley trailing at your ankles through the snow. Arthur and his wife have been together for thirty five years, and they’ve made it from the Virginia QZ.
“Things were just too hairy over there,” Arthur says with a shake of his head. “Me and Penny figured we couldn’t keep living like that. We heard about Jackson City through an old CB a friend had. Seemed too good to be true.”
“I get that,” you nod. “The first month I was here I barely left my house. I was convinced my place would be given away the second I walked out the door.”
“The beds!” Arthur says with a dramatic emphasis on the words. “And those clean sheets? Everything is just so. . .Fresh.”
You’re at the soap maker’s home now and while it’s still early, you can hear Hannah rustling about inside. You know if you stay she’ll insist on having you in for coffee and you feel as if your social battery is already at its limit.
“This is where I’ll leave you,” you say indicating to the home ahead. “Inside is Hannah and Herb, they’ll set you up with some soap for you and your wife.”
“Thanks so much,” Arthur says pumping your hand in his.
“Can you make it back okay on your own?”
“I’m sure.”
You smile, about to turn and head back home when something stops you. You twist around, calling after Arthur who raises his brows.
“Do you ever draw portraits?”
“Of course,” Arthur nods.
“I mean, of people you don’t know,” you say, squinting as you try to recall the term. “Kinda like sketch artists did for the police back before?”
“I can’t say it’s a specialty, but I love a challenge,” Arthur says with a little skip to his step. “And considering you were kind enough to show me here I’d love to do it for you.”
“Thanks,” you say, feeling shy. “I might just take you up on it.”
///
You’re surprised to see Maria knocking on your door later that afternoon. She’s got a sleeping Douglas strapped to her chest with a sling and she’s carrying a pie in one hand.
“I would have been here the second you got back but I only heard from Tommy what was going on late last night,” she says when you invite her in.
“No problem,” you insist warmly. “I think he was doing it to save you some stress.”
“Yeah well he got an earful,” she says with a frown. “How could he not tell me my friend was missing during a storm?”
Friend. Another friend. An embarrassment of riches. You try to tamp down the pleased smile that bleeds across your face and instead give a gentle rub to Douglas’ head, giggling as he grunts and scrunches his nose.
You tell Maria about Arthur and Penny and she nods as she feeds Douglas.
"Yep, 64 Pine. I just sent them over a welcome basket and Tommy's gone there to give 'em jobs."
"Great," you smile. Your eyes go to the gently babbling Douglas in Maria's arms. “How does he get cuter every day?”
“Must be a Miller thing,” she says laughing. “I saw a picture of Sarah once and she was so adorable.”
This intrigues you to the point of distraction.
“You saw a picture of Sarah?”
Very few people had photos or memorabilia from their homes that survived Outbreak Day. You don’t know anyone personally who has photos of their family.
“Yeah, Tommy went back to Texas a while back. Got some stuff from his old place and he found a photo of Sarah to bring back.”
“Joel must have been so happy.”
“He didn’t take it,” Maria shrugs. “Think it was too hard for him.”
You fall silent for a moment, your irritation with Joel waning. It’s hard to be angry at him after everything that happened. You sometimes forget that he had a life before, that he had a daughter he’ll never see again. Despite your animosity for how he treated you earlier, you’re not devoid of compassion.
You just wish you could understand him.
You’re still pondering this hours after Maria has left when there’s a knock at your door. It creaks open when you call out to come in and a familiar set of light eyes greet you. Luke grins at you expectantly.
“You still up for shooting?”
“Oh shit, I forgot,” you place your teacup in the sink and hurriedly pull on your scarf and jacket.
“We don’t have to,” Luke starts. “Jenny can’t make it, but I thought it’d be good for us to get the practice.”
You flush happily at the thought of being alone with Luke. You enjoy being with him, it’s easy and uncomplicated.
You follow him down the street heading to the outskirts of the city, both of you armed with guns borrowed from Jennifer.
"So Jennifer isn’t going to shoot today?" You ask curiously.
"Nah she said something about running behind in textiles. Dunno what exactly,” Luke shrugs, before smiling back at you. “You going to the town meeting Wednesday?”
Town meetings have been going on since Jackson City was founded. A place to bring up impactful town business, updates, celebrations and more. You've only been to one, finding it pretty dull for the most part. But as you become more a part of the community you find you want to know more of what goes on around you.
"Yeah I think I will."
The two of you fall into a comfortable rhythm that afternoon and you’re surprised at how easily the conversation flows even without Jenny there. Luke is funny and sweet and when you shoot your first can he’s right there to lift you into his arms and spin you around.
“That was amazing!”
“I can’t believe it!” you say, pink-cheeked and delighted.
You’re still on a high when you head back into town an hour or so later, chatting animatedly about how your shooting is actually improving thanks to Jennifer. You wish she had been there to see it today.
“Not just one can, but four,” Luke whistles in amazement as you both make your way to the center of town. “And I could only got one.”
“But it was really far away so it counts as two,” you insist with a giggle. Luke grins down at you, pulling you into a companionable side hug.
“You’re too kind.”
Your entire body lights up with the contact of Luke's arm around you. You’re about to say something more when a gruff voice sounds out from behind you.
“You sign those guns out?”
You and Luke spin to face the speaker.
Joel.
He’s standing there, leather coat done up looking intimidating. His dark eyes are going to where Luke holds you around the shoulder.
Instinctively you take a half step away from Luke, feeling strangely wrong-footed at having his arm around you, as if you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t.
Luke is busy looking at Joel in confusion. “Huh?”
“The guns you’re carryin’,” Joel says sharply, tongue lodged in the corner of his mouth as he appraises the both of you, taking a step closer. “They gotta be signed out if you’re practicin’. Need to keep track of ‘em for safety.”
Everyone who comes to Jackson City knows this, it’s taught during your welcome. Public weapons used for patrols need to be signed out from the armory, the ammo is doled out in specific numerations to keep the city stocked and prepared.
“They’re Jenny’s,” Luke explains patiently. “From her own collection. She lends them to us for practice.”
“Ammo too?”
“Yep.”
Joel makes a grunting noise in Luke’s direction, but his eyes don’t leave your face. You feel your cheeks prickling with embarrassment at being talked down to. And for what reason? Why is Joel being such an asshole this week?
“Is that all, Joel?” you challenge, feeling your hackles rising.
Joel frowns at you, jaw ticking and then without a word he strides past you and Luke, ducking into one of the shops that line the main street. You watch him leave, stiff-shouldered and long-legged and you shake your head.
“Man that guy is such an asshole,” Luke murmurs to you as the two of you continue your walk towards the other shops. “What’s his problem?”
“Honestly, I have no idea.”
///
Midweek one early morning you decide to pay a visit to Chestnut with a contraband carrot. You’ve been worrying about him since you returned from that overnight patrol shift, but your visit shows he’s no worse for wear. He clops over to you and cheerfully takes the carrot as you pet him.
There's something comforting about the scent of hay in the paddock, of Chestnut's glossy eyes and the strength of his ribs under your palm. Something that grounds you when you're here alone, listening to the strangely relaxing sound of him munching on his carrot. You've broken it in half, concerned that you might upset his diet.
He deserves it after all he went through last week.
You feel eyes on you and you glance over your shoulder to see Midnight circling around his paddock. Chestnut continues to snack away on his carrot piece, not even acknowledging when you drift over to Midnight.
"Hi, boy."
You take the other half of the carrot and move closer to where Midnight stares balefully out at you from the corner of his paddock. He watches you with widened eyes, making a huffing noise as you near, hand outstretched with the carrot half resting in the center of your palm.
Midnight's known you for months, but he still treats you like a stranger to be wary of. For a moment you wonder what his story is.
"Here you go," you coo, balancing on the fencing separating the two horses. "You deserve a treat too."
The glossy black head swings slowly, the scent catching him and it's not long before he begins inching towards you.
With a soft smile on your lips you hold your palm flat and feel the velvet brush of his mouth as he takes the carrot piece. You feel victorious by this minute surrender and smile toothily at the creature. You think about stroking his mane but decide you'd best not push your luck.
You turn when you hear your name being called and you're delighted to see its Ellie. She comes jogging towards you, looking as if she's getting ready to go to school.
"Hey, I haven't seen you in the dining hall lately," you greet as she comes your way.
"Nah, wanted to hang out with Joel this week," she explains and you hold in the urge to make a sympathetic face. You know his disappearance must have rattled her.
She looks at Midnight relaxing in his paddock and stretches out her fingers in his direction. You watch in quiet amazement as the creature ambles over to her, allowing her to start petting his twitching side. Ellie sure has a knack for taming the untamable.
"You like horses?" you ask Ellie, watching as the girl pets Chestnut’s ears.
“Yeah, I can ride too.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, sorta. Winston this soldier back in the zone gave me lessons.” She glances up at you. “How do you know how to ride?”
“When I was really little my parents got me riding lessons. I loved it, kept going with it. Did some competitions. I was still riding up until Outbreak Day.”
“Wow. That’s awesome.” Ellie gnaws at her chapped lower lip, scratching absently at her covered arm. She looks like she’s trying to summon up the courage for something and then you both speak at once.
“Are you okay?-“
“-You wanna come over on Thursday night?”
You pause, her words hitting you belatedly.
“Where? To your place?”
“Yeah,” Ellie nods. She smiles at Chestnut, her eyes disappearing when she does. “For a special dinner.”
You and Joel Miller together in the same house again? After he’s been such a colossal asshole to you for no reason this week?
Not a chance.
“We could do dinner at my place,” you suggest airily. “I could make us something special.”
“Nah, I wanna do it at mine. On Thursday. I’ll make us all something really special.” She looks nervously at you. “Could you bring dessert?”
The request makes you huff a laugh. “Like what?”
“A cake?”
You grin as you watch her pet Chesnut, but you don’t reply. Thoughts of being in Joel’s home don’t really fill you with ease or cheer. She pauses when she sees your hesitation.
“Joel wanted me to ask you to come.”
This gives you pause and your brows rise to your hairline.
“Joel invited me to have dinner with you both?”
“Yeah,” Ellie nods resolutely. “You know Joel. He’s a grumpy asshole and he’s shit at communicating. But he told me to invite you, so can you make it?”
Is it possible that this is Joel extending an olive branch? Maybe he feels bad knowing how bizarrely he’s treated you this week. Maybe he’ll even explain why he’s suddenly been so frosty.
You consider this, eyes stuck on Chestnut’s mane as your fingers twirl in it. You can feel Ellie’s hopeful expression facing you and so you sigh quietly before flashing her a tentative smile.
“Chocolate cake okay?”
///
Town meetings take place inside the old church at the edge of town. The chapel itself is filled with creaking pews and tall stained glass windows.
People use it on Sundays, those that still believe in something in this empty world. You don't attend; you stopped believing a long time ago. During town meetings though the religious iconography is removed and placed off to the side.
Down the steps is the large recreation space used for dances and parties and the like. You've never gone to any, finding the idea too intimating since you didn't know anyone. The space is mostly filled, as all town meetings are. It's recommended that one person from each family attend to keep appraised of what's happening in the community.
This evening you and Jennifer slip into the end of a pew near the back, the back of your knees braced against the chilled wood.
"Oh there's Luke," Jennifer whispers, hitting your shoulder with hers gently. "Must've come with the guys."
You follow her eye line to see Luke sitting with some of the guys you recognize from breakfasts with Jennifer. He's laughing with them, chatting casually. He looks handsome tonight, his hair brushed back and his muscled arms crossed over his chest. You can't help but notice the way his mouth curves, looking so inviting.
You surprise yourself with how attracted you are to him this evening. You can't explain it, but you wish his hands were on you. Wish he was taking you to bed.
You worry that Joel's actions the other night have opened something in you, something that craves a man between your legs, a tongue tracing the buds of your nipples, fingers tracing shapes into your flesh.
You squirm slightly in your seat before focusing your attention elsewhere when a flash of red hair catches your eyes and you stand, making your way across the aisle.
“Hi Arthur," you greet with a smile. He's sitting with a tall woman with very red hair and is covered in tattoos. Delicate black lined things that wrap around her one arm and across her neck. She's like walking artwork that you can't stop staring at.
"Oh it’s you!” Arthur beams up at you from where he sits. “This is my wife Penny I was telling you about."
The woman turns her bulging eyes at you, yellowed at the corners. She smiles and gives you a crooked smile.
"Pleased to meet you," she says with a sharp drawl. "My husband says you’re to thank for the soap?”
“No no,” you laugh. “I just showed him where to find it.”
“And she didn’t bludgeon me even when she had the chance,” Arthur adds. The three of you chuckle together and you can’t help but watch the images on Penny’s lean neck jump when she laughs.
"Those tattoos are beautiful," you tell her, momentarily hypnotized.
"Arthur did them for me back in the QZ," Penny says with a shy grin. "Stick and poke if you can believe it. Self taught."
"Really? That's really impressive, Arthur."
Arthur ducks his head, looking momentarily shy. He pushes his glasses up his long nose bashfully.
"He makes everything he touches pretty," Penny says proudly. "S'the thing I love most about him."
"That's such a beautiful idea," you say without thinking. You bid them farewell before taking your seat next to Jennifer who’s deep in conversation with one of the women you’ve seen in the dining hall.
You scan the chapel and see that Maria sits in the front row, her baby strapped to her front. People talk to her but she looks strangely overwhelmed. Maria has never been like that, always been strong and confident. You try to catch her eye, to give her a reassuring smile but she doesn't turn in your direction.
Tommy pushes into the chapel by eight and ambles to the front of the room. He gives Maria a gentle kiss to the crown of her head before stepping behind the podium and waving at the gathered collective. When they see him the voices dim and he shoots a grateful look at the crowd.
"Hi y'all, thanks for comin' out on this cold night when I know you’d rather be at the Bison." He pauses as light chuckles fill the room. "We got a few things happenin' this month and I wanted y'all to be aware."
There's a shuffling behind you, a scrape of boot against wood grain. The pew creaks gently as a figure is seated down, his very presence setting your pulse skyrocketing.
Joel.
You'd know it just by the cadence of his walk; that light drag at the end of each step. The scent of leather from his jacket and almond from the soap he uses. The way the air seems to warm and grow heavy where he sits.
A part of you wants to turn your head, to confirm it's who you think. But the other wants nothing more than for Joel to stay away until the dinner with Ellie. After the way he's been treating you this week you don't want to be anywhere near him and his volatility without her as a buffer.
You feel the ends of your hair catch against the pew and you shift, running your hand absently through your crown to loosen it as you turn your focus back to Tommy at the front of the chapel.
"Well to start us off, we got some new blood here tonight and I wanna introduce 'em," Tommy says giving a small smile to the left side of the room. "This is Arthur and Penny. They come from Virginia. They're gonna be helping out in the school and with sanitation. Welcome to Jackson city."
Arthur and Penny stand up in their pew. The two of them give shy waves as the group claps, some calling out well wishes of welcome as Arthur goes pink in the cheeks.
"They're the sweetest couple," you comment.
"I love her tattoos," Jennifer replies as she claps. "So beautiful."
The couple sits and the clapping ebbs. Tommy looks down at his piece of paper of notes hurriedly scrawled.
"Now I'm gonna turn things over to Jacob Linden," he says before stepping down from the podium and taking his place next to Maria. You watch as his arm goes around her, holding her to him.
Jacob Linden is a sweet man of about sixty with narrow grey eyes and pale blonde hair. He always wears blue jeans and a sweater, even in the heat of the summer.
His partner passed years before he got to Jackson City and he wears a small locket with his photograph in it to remember him. He touches it now, a little nervously as he steps up to the podium.
"One of the ideas I've been kicking around is having a bi-weekly music night," the man says almost shyly as he looks around at all the faces. "A time for the town to come gather and listen to people play. Maybe in the dining hall after meals?"
There's murmurs of interest around the room. You and Jennifer exchange smiles at the idea, knowing very well that you'll attend. Jennifer is always going on about how there's nothing to do in the evenings in town except drink.
"I'm wondering if there are any musicians who'd like to join in?" Jacob asks tentatively. "We'll take turns deciding what tunes to play and you'll have all the coffee and tea you can drink."
You're surprised when amongst a few others, Luke shoots his hand up. Jennifer must be taken aback as well because she leans over to you, her voice warm in your ear.
"I didn't know he played."
"Me neither."
"Shhhh."
You both flinch at the volume of Joel's shushing. Several nearby people glance over their shoulders in your direction and you feel your cheeks pink. Jennifer shoots you an admonished look and you hold in your eye roll to the best of your abilities before turning your attention back to Tommy at the front of the church.
"Now, next up, I'm sure you've heard the rumors of Raiders up on the patrol routes."
Gentle whispers move around the room like hissing campfires being extinguished.
"So I need y'all to be even more vigilant than usual," Tommy explains. "That means you see anything and I mean anything strange, you come and tell me or Maria, Hank or Joel. And you can spread that around."
You hear him shift on the bench behind you. It's like your ears are so attuned to him that even as Tommy goes over the safety procedures all you can focus on is the shift of Joel's weight in the pew, the scrape of his boots on the ground, the rough way he clears his throat.
You don't know why but you're pissed off. Maybe you're anxious about the raiders, nervous about patrols tomorrow, whatever it is, you feel like a bow pulled extremely taut and Joel’s presence plucks irritatingly at the string.
"Do you think Luke wants to grab a drink after this?" Jennifer breaks into your thoughts, head tilted towards your shoulder. “I wanna ask him about his playing.”
“Me too, I was-”
Before you can say anything more you hear Joel give that same annoying noise and it feels like it's aimed directly into the back of your head.
"Shhhh."
For some reason this is your limit. The grating sound has you twisting around in your seat and fixing him with a glare. He sits with his face arranged in a look of casual indifference; you only know that he's paying attention to you by the steady gaze of his dark eyes.
"If you can't hear, sit closer next time," you hiss. "Not our fault you're half deaf."
You don't miss the sharp intake of breath from Jennifer or the narrowing of Joel’s gaze on your face.
Before he can say anything back to you, you slide from the pew towards the back of the church. You need a minute to calm down because irritation is boiling your blood. You know you’re going to say something rude if you stick around.
You give polite smiles at the few people you pass on your way out, your feet taking you to where it's quiet in the alcove. You think this is where they must have prepared communion or something similar, but now it just houses extra chairs and tables. The window is barely seen over the dented wood tables with their rusty metal legs.
You close the door after you, trying to quell the furious beating of your heart.
What the fuck is his problem? Is he so regretful of what happened that night that he’s doubling down on being a prick? And why the fuck is he having you over for dinner if he obviously despises everything you do?
There's a scrape of feet behind you and the air attains that same heavy, warm feeling. You turn, not surprised to see a furious looking Joel closing the door behind him. His lips are twisted into a thin curve of displeasure.
Fuck this.
You go to walk by him when he jerks out an arm, slapping his palm against the wall in front of you and effectively cutting you off from your exit. He stares you down as he cranes his neck towards you, forcing you to keep his gaze.
"Where do you get off talkin' to me like that?" Joel says between gritted teeth. He looms over you, everything about him saying submit. And normally this would work, normally you would cower but tonight you're at your limit.
"I'll talk to you any damn way I want," you say, cheeks a blotchy red.
“You sure fuckin’ won’t.”
“I sure fucking will,” you snap back, keeping your voice low enough not to carry into the chapel.
Joel gets up in your face, his nose practically touching yours.
"If you wanna run your goddam mouth, I'm gonna fill it."
It flies out of Joel’s mouth before he's had time to realize what he's said. He regrets it the minute it hits the air. It's there in the telltale opening of his lids just a fraction too wide, is in the pink crawling up his neck.
But you’re completely over it, over Joel, over the entire situation. He makes you cum how many times? Let’s you open up to him? And now he’s acting as if you’ve done him a cruelty?
Fuck him.
"With what, Joel? Your cock?”
Joel’s eyes fly open wide.
“I don't want anything to do with you or your cock ever again," you bite off. "You're selfish and arrogant-"
"Enough."
Joel’s jaw is ticking something worrisome, his hands in loose fists at his sides. But he doesn’t intimidate you anymore. He’s just a man like all the rest of them.
"What?” You sneer broadly. “Worried you can only keep it up if the woman’s on her knees doing all the work or half asleep, Joel?”
"Shut the fuck up."
You've never spoken to anyone like this in your entire life, but letting Joel have it right here in this moment feels good.
No, it feels better than good, it feels amazing.
Years of repressed anger and frustration are bubbling to surface and you feel heady, almost powerful from it. It feels better than sex or lust or forgiveness. It flows freely from you like a song, brutally cutting notes that slice into Joel and he winces.
"It's the truth," you laugh cruelly. "I mean when's the last time you fucked properly without having t-"
You break off as Joel's hands slap on either side of the striped wallpaper beside your arms, coming to box you in against the wall. His face is so thunderous that any laughter in your expression withers away like fruit on a vine.
There’s the sound of muffled laughter outside of the room in the chapel. Tommy is charming the audience, but all you can focus on is the man in front of you. Of his broad shoulders and muscled arms. Of his steely gaze and wide palms as one slides off the wall and comes to grip your hip.
And before you can properly think, Joel is crowding you against the wall, his pelvis pressing harshly into yours. You stare up at him, body trembling but you’re concerned because it’s not in fear.
Your nipples tighten, your pupils blow wide and all you can focus on is the heavy bulge that he presses between your thighs.
“You think I can’t make you come like a little slut for me right here and now?”
Joel is breathing heavily through his nose, his gaze on your mouth before flicking to meet your eyes. He continues to pin you there, mouth slightly ajar as he begins to unbutton your jeans, his dark eyes never leaving yours.
His fingers rest on the zipper, pausing only to watch your expression. When moments pass you realize he's waiting for you to tell him to stop, trying to call your bluff. But instead you tilt your head back in silent challenge.
You'd expected fury in the face of your combative non-verbal reply but are met with something altogether different from Joel.
Lust.
You see only a flicker of it in Joel's gaze, the darkening of his eyes before his face lowers to yours. His fingers lower the zipper of your jeans and now your bravado leaves you as you tilt away from him, your eyes fluttering. You feel his warm breath on the side of your face, slow and heavy. He waits there, fingers stilled on the zipper’s tongue.
You don’t move, your cheeks flaming as you realize what’s about to happen. You don’t know how to act or what to do.
“Why you actin' all shy now?" Joel mocks against your earlobe. "You think I didn't hear you in the bathroom playin' with yourself all those times on patrol? Think I don’t know how bad you wanna come right now?"
Your face feels so hot you feel it would sizzle if a droplet of water landed on it. Joel has known all this time? Every time you thought you were had privacy he's known? Has likely heard the whimpering cries you give out when you climax. For all you knew he could have been standing outside the door listening. Why does that thought make your stomach swoop?
"I don't-" you start but the words are sticky on your tongue.
But now the zipper is lowered and his fingers move swiftly down the front of your panties, hitting the slick of your cunt almost immediately and curling. You give a huff of surprise, finding your thighs widening without thought to take more of him. He slides his fingers to the knuckle, groaning when he sees it’s making your eyelids flutter.
"Maybe I don't have to try that hard after all," Joel croons. "Looks like you've been waiting for me."
“Have not,” you deny weakly, jaw clenched and glare fixed on your face.
“Then I should stop,” Joel mocks as his fingers slowly begin to pump in and out of your squelching cunt. “Right?”
You say nothing, finding it near impossible not to touch him. All you can do is cling to his shoulders, fingertips leaving half-moon crescents in his skin through the fabric. Your face is buried in his neck, trying to stifle your moans.
You feel Joel’s smug smile against your temple as his thick finger curl within your velvet slot, his thumb rubbing your clit in time with his pumps. He groans softly when you arch back, hand at his collar for purchase.
“Fuck, yeah, like that,” Joel chants, his warm breath buffeting your face.
He tilts his head, tongue going to the side of his mouth in thought. You wonder what he sees when he stares down at you, pink cheeks and glassy eyes? The sheer desperation in your glazed expression? You feel your release being coaxed forth, sweet and syrupy but something holds you back.
You feel that ripple of pleasure begin but you nervously tense everywhere and Joel’s face flies towards yours.
"I know what you feel like when you're close," Joel rasps, his full lips crushed against your ear, breath hot. "Don't fight it."
You feel your pulse ticking wildly in your neck and you wonder if Joel can sense it. But you need something from him, something that you didn’t realize. You turn your gaze to his, imploring.
"Tell me to come," you whisper, hips rutting against his hand. "Please Joel, tell m-me-"
You break off with a sharp gasp and his wide hand immediately goes to cover your mouth, muffling the sounds from escaping into the chapel while the other works between your legs in that same steady way.
"You're gonna come for me," Joel rasps against your ear. "Right here, with the whole town on the other side of this wall."
Your eyes roll back in your head at the command, pleasure flooding you everywhere. Joel's fingers are sliding in and out of you, curling to hit that sweet hidden spot your own fingers just can't reach, thumb rubbing your clit.
"You're gonna come on my fingers right here," he continues, breath hot in your ear when he sees your reaction. "Cuz I said so."
You can't speak since his hand is still sealed over your mouth but you can nod shallowly, hips rolling as you begin to climb that pleasured peak that has your body tensing. He feels it, his dark eyes moving from your face to where his fingers enter you over and over, curling and coaxing.
Your hands fist in his flannel when you feel that white stripe of pleasure overtake you. And despite how inappropriate this is you feel yourself falling off the edge.
"Go on then," Joel groans huskily. "Be a good girl and do it."
At those words all that tension that's been building in your lower belly suddenly releases, sending you jerking against Joel, gasping against his palm.
"Mhm," Joel murmurs approvingly. His praise sets you off, your next orgasm overtaking the first, bleeding into one another and your legs tremble. He holds you in place with his hips, his fingers moving slickly between your thighs.
Joel's broad hand moves from your mouth to cradle the back of your head, forcing your mouth press against the skin of his neck, muffling your cries. You continue to twitch, your whimpers seeping into his skin like ink on paper.
"Uh huh, just like that," Joel murmurs, his fingers keeping their steady pace as your pelvis ruts against his hand faster and faster. "Just like that.”
Just like that. Just like that.
Nothing else exists except for his voice and your pleasure. Not the townspeople, not the warning of Raiders that set you off, not the fear of the unknown. Just Joel's warm, steady voice telling you to come.
“I know you can gimme another one.”
Just like that night of the snow in, he consumes you leaving you whimpering his name into his neck, fingers gripping his flannel for dear life as he coaxes your next orgasm from you.
"Give it to me," he demands, groaning as you arch into him. "S’mine."
Your entire body tenses at that husky order and your release comes over you in waves. Your eyes roll back, and you cry out, your mouth sealed against Joel’s taut neck. You can hear him far away, murmuring that’s right and good fuckin’ girl.
You feel your pussy pulse around his fingers, milking them. Arousal drips down his wrist, his fingers not ceasing their steady continuous rhythm until you give one final shake, exhaling heavily against his palm.
Finally you go limp and his fingers slow and finally slide from between your legs. You realize that you're still fisting his flannel, your mouth still open against his warm neck. You raise your head, eyes heavy and glazed. You do it just in time to see Joel slide the fingers coated in your glossy arousal between his lips and suck, his eyes fluttering closed.
Your knees buckle.
He catches you, a flash of amusement in his honeyed voice.
"Steady," he mutters against your cheek. "Steady."
You stare up at him, your breathing still deep and uneven as he holds you against him. You tilt your head back slightly so you can better view him. Joel looks completely fucked out, cheeks flushed, his dark curls falling into his eyes that sweep your face, lingering on your parted lips. Like magnets you feel as he drifts towards you, his mouth so close to yours you can feel the warmth of his breath on your tongue.
Suddenly the sound of creaking pews, chatter and footsteps sound out.
The meeting is over.
Joel's hands immediately fly from your body at the sound and he steps back, straightening to his full height. The darkness is back in his eyes and that displeased countenance he wears like a mask firmly settles over his features.
“Don’t wanna keep you from gettin’ drinks with your boyfriend,” he rumbles darkly.
He strides away from you quickly, his boots scuffing along the floorboards until he's outside the room, the door closing behind him with a snick. You assume he’s rejoined the rest of the group as they exit to avoid suspicion, but you can’t do the same because your legs feel like rubber.
You stay leaning against the wall, face flushed and pulse ticking. Your breathing is shaky as you look around the room, the same and yet changed.
What the fuck just happened?
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#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x you#joel miller x reader#joel miller#joel miller smut#smut#fanfiction#fanfic#pedro pascal#dad joel miller#dark!joel x reader#dark!joel miller#dark!joel#so much to lose#slow burn
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Gavi smut pls
POST INJURY - GAVI
summary: you and gavi have sex for the first time after his injury
a/n: i forgot that i was already done with this fic so ill post it now :) the next fic is scheduled for july the 10th, so you wont need to wait that long...
warnings: smut
"Amor" Gavi whispered.
"Hm?" You hummed while lifting up your head. Gavi started stroking his fingers through your hair and started kissing your head.
You two were laying in his bed comfortably, he was scrolling throught tiktok, atleast that was 5 min ago, until he put down his phone. Your head was positioned on his chest and your arms by his side, stroking his skin with your fingers.
"I've been thinking" He started and you lift up your head to look at him. "We haven't had sex in a long time."
"That's also because you were injured." You answered and sat up to get a better look at him.
"Yeah but, I feel like my injury is healed enough to have sex." You smiled as you looked at him. He looked at you with all seriousness, big eyes and mouth slightly hanging open.
"Are you sure? Your muscle tense up a lot when you have sex." Your smile faded and you looked at him in all seriousness.
"I am sure" Gavi reassured you and then leaned closer to kiss you. His lips made contact with yours and suddenly it felt like you where whole again.
The next few minutes you two spent with undressing eachother, until eventually you both were naked and you on top of Gavi, you two were making out passionately, but slow.
Until eventually Gavi moved down his hand and began to rub your clit, slowly at first but the pace of his fingers just got faster.
He enjoyed you moaning in his mouth and you squeezing his bicep with your hand.
He began to rub your clit but then removed his fingers again, he kept repeating that for about 2 minutes until you couldn't hold it anymore. His hard erection was poking against your stomach so you immediately rolled down from his body and looked at him.
"So you want to be a bottom too, hm?" He teased while climbing over you, his dick aligned itself with your entrance and he pushed it in, it felt good, you hadn't had sex in way too long and the only ways Gavi was able to pleasure you was eat you out, but it just wasn't the same.
You moaned immediately and arched your back up against him, he went slow at first but then sped up his pace more and more.
As your walls clenched around him, low moans began to escape his lips, you smiled you looked at him. You were barely able to keep your eyes open due to the pleasure, so when Gavi looked at you and saw you smiling, he grabbed your left leg and put it over his shoulder. That allowed him to hit deeper and as he started hitting your g spot your moans began to get louder. Your legs started shaking when he wetted his fingers in his mouth and started rubbing your clit with them.
"You need to stop clenching around me babe, I'm not gonna last long." Gavi groaned as he slowed down a bit, you clenching around him made it a bit difficult for him to even move.
"Sorry." You moaned as he pushed himself into your pussy again. A loud cry for help escaped your lips, the pleasure was too much for you, to make it worse, Gavi brought his hand up to his mouth again to taste your juices that stuck to his fingers.
You arched your back, feeling his dick against your walls as he yet stayed still.
"Please, move." You barely got out any words, the pleasure being to much of him being inside of you again. The stretch was unbelievable.
"Mhm" Gavi hummed while he began to move again, slow at first but in the matter of seconds he started snapping his hips against yours in a very fast pace. You moaned loudly with every thurst he hit inside of you, his fingers rubbing your clit made the warm knot in your stomach worse. Your legs began shaking as you came hard around his dick. Because you clenched so hard around him and also arched your back, he also came inside of you. Your legs still trembling while he collapsed on top of you and kissed your neck. He started planting sloppy kisses along your shoulder and collar bone, your fingers ran through his soft brown hair.
Eventually he pulled out of you and laid down next to you, taking your hand in his and bringing it up to his mouth to press light kisses against it.
"Did you enjoy it?" Gavi asked while he made eye contact with you. "Have I still got it?"
A chuckle escaped from your lips as you nodded your head. "You still got it, nothing to worry about."
#barca#fc barcelona#football#futbol#fanfic#gavi#espana#mustread#pablo gavi#pablo paez gavi#gavi smut#i miss gavi#gavi fanfiction
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{ 182 }
saturn.
jinwoo sung x fem.reader
warnings: unedited; mentions of drug use and near o-erdose; smoking; drinking; parental neglect.
{ stuck in this paradigm | don't believe in paradise | this must be what hell is like | there's got to be more, got to be more | sick of this head of mine | intrusive thoughts, they paralyze | nirvana's not as advertised | there's got to be more, been here before }
anonymous said:
I have an idea
I know you really like to write about a certain type of reader so you don’t need to do anything
But I just adore a reader thats nice and caring but only on the outside. Someone who pretends to be ditzy and clumsy but in reality is anything but that. A wolf in sheep’s clothing basically.
I’d imagine only certain people could see who reader truly was but just didn’t care or no one believed them.
As for the reason reader would behave like this, I would assume it’s related to childhood trauma that lead to trust issues and consistently feeling unsafe. This would lead to them seeking to manipulate others and pretending to be someone their not to keep themselves safe.
This would be a great thing to write about because reader could finally let their guard down and show their true self in front of their lover because they trust them.
Whether this reader is a high ranked hunter or not, it is all your choosing.(but i will point out that society and the media can be easily manipulated. And they would love a rare “friendly” s-rank.)
I could see this reader being with many characters, but you’re the writer so you can choose.
As for how would this character get with another, it would depend on who you are pairing them with.
For someone more introverted, they could catch readers interest for some strange reason and that could lead to reader keeping an eye on the character.
For more extroverted and bold characters, the character could just see through readers disguise and be interested in reader.
I know you love fluffy things so this is just an idea. I’m just a sucker for characters being healed by their significant other.
jinwoo sung felt like he was on top of the world when he managed to capture your heart.
being known as the 'sunshine hunter'; you truly lived up to your nickname as you retained your gentle and kind aura, practically radiating with positivity.
he truly admired your strength, being labeled as a rare, s-rank hunter who wasn't pompous and treated everyone as your equal. your smiles were filled with a saccharine sweetness, and the more jinwoo observed you, the more he became utterly captivated by you.
your honeyed sweetness was enough to trap him, keeping him mesmerized as his heart was settled within the palm of your hand.
so it came as no surprise when he confesses to you, leaving you the tiniest bit shocked before ultimately accepting his feelings for you.
how could jinwoo not feel like he was in heaven, being able to obtain someone as kind and sweet as you? how could he not feel lucky at the thought of being able to hold you within his arms each time he came home at night?
you held his heart and soul-
and jinwoo could only wish that you felt the same way when it came to him.
{ ... }
your life felt like it was becoming more exhausted with each smile you gave your co-workers and peers.
how could they not see your strained smile or the way the light seemed to die within your gaze as each word was forced from your parted lips?
how could they not detect the fake sweetness within your tone?
how could they not see how much you were drowning?
as you donned your hoodie and mask, wishing to avoid all fan contact while making your way home, you thought about the man you shared your apartment with.
the man you were dating...
your boyfriend-
jinwoo...
a strange sense of guilt fills you at the thought of him.
you had accepted his confession despite knowing how, deep down, he was attracted to the mask you always wore-
if he ever knew about your true self, then he would surely leave you.
growing up, you didn't have what many would call a 'happy childhood.' your mother admitted that you were an accident that never meant to happen; that when she slept with the man who would help shape you into a full human being, she got drunk and forgot to use protection.
when she found out that she was pregnant with you, she admits it to being 'too late' to have an abortion as she begrudgingly gave birth to you.
sure, during your younger years, she fed and dressed you; sent you to school when you were old enough-
but all the attention she gave you was the bare minimum.
during your teenaged years, when you could better understand just how neglectful she was, you did everything you could to make her start caring for you. during school nights, you would purposely stay out later than usual, going out with the 'bad group' of people.
you tossed aside your virginity carelessly to a mutual classmate and had your first cigarette with him (coughing all the way).
you tried your fair share of illicit drugs and nearly overdosed when you mistakenly took too much of it-
but all you received from your mother was an icy glare as she told you how much of a parasite and an attention seeking whore you were-
needless to say, the moment you were 18, you left that home and never looked back. by some miracle, when the gates began to appear all across the world, you found that you were pretty powerful and could fight these monsters during these raids.
it was thanks to the appearance of these gates that you felt less useless, your mother's neglect and hurtful words slowly morphing into the back of your mind as you swore to yourself to never reveal your true self ever again.
not wishing to be ridiculed and hated for who you truly were, you put on an intricately made façade; one that was filled with wide smiles and constant words of praise from you. you walked with confidence, (like there was not a single thing wrong with your life), with your head held high, never once revealing your exhaustion or depressed state.
and for a while, things went well, with you even being labeled as the 'sunshine hunter' as people flocked to you, adoring you with every press conference you held while asking for pictures and autographs at every chance by your fans.
you basked in the attention, greedily devouring it all as you used it as a substitute for the lack of love you received from your mother.
but lately, your persona was cracking when you managed to capture jinwoo's heart with your mask of light.
perhaps he was the one good thing in your life that you truly didn't deserve. he was everything that you weren't:
he had loving parents and a little sister that adored him;
he was powerful; far surpassing you as a hunter while being able to summon what seemed like millions of shadow soldiers-
you felt like such a damn sham for capturing his heart-
and it was tearing you apart.
what were you supposed to do when he sweetly gazed at you with his gentle grey eyes, asking you to move in with him?
how could you possibly disappoint the man who genuinely loved you?
the man that you were also genuinely falling for.
the emotions and memories were becoming too much to bear, with your steps quickening as you fought back tears. you knew that jinwoo had placed some of his soldiers within your shadow and would see you at any point and time (hence why you had your hoodie up and a mask on).
but there was only so much such flimsy coverings could do, and eventually, your face would remain bare for him. jinwoo would see the pain in your eyes, and the mask you had so carefully crafted would disintegrate into dust.
pursing your lips, you felt grateful that you arrived back at the apartment you shared with jinwoo, taking the elevators to the top floor as you angrily wiped away your tears.
you could no longer keep lying to jinwoo and the world.
you had to come clean and leave him first, admitting to him just how exhausted you were at pretending all the time.
before jinwoo ever came into your life, it was easy for you to keep up your bright and sunny persona, since the moment you came home, you were able to peel off that faux layer of your psyche while basking in who you truly were.
pessimistic.
cynical.
hard to love.
truly the exact opposite of who jinwoo was.
so while your relationship and romance was still growing, you knew it was best to cut it off while it was still in its early stages.
once you returned to the momentary sanctuary of your apartment, you tossed aside your mask and brought down your hood, taking long strides into the kitchen to grab two cans of ice-cold beer. cracking one of the aluminum cans open, you take deep swigs from it, draining it within a few gulps as you belched and tossed aside the can within the bin.
opening the second beer, you step into the bedroom and took out a suitcase, haphazardly filling it with your clothes and undergarments. you didn't care to try and make everything fit, wishing to leave before jinwoo ever came home.
getting tipsier by the minute, you drain the second beer as well, head spinning while looking down at your suitcase already half filled with your clothes. you consider opening up another beer when you felt the air shift around you.
a bored expression paints your expression, taking yet another sip from your beer when jinwoo appears behind you.
"sarang, are you alright?"
you don't respond to his term of endearment for you, choosing instead to turn your back to him as you finished the rest of your beer. already able to picture jinwoo's concerned expression as he steps closer to you, he calls out your name, ready to reach out to you when you face him and slap his hand away from you.
you refused to let the pained expression on his face fill you with guilt. "sarang-"
"don't fucking call me that!" you snarl back at him, tossing the empty can of beer to the side, not caring that it landed against the pristine floor of the bedroom. since jinwoo came home anyways, you figured you could do with just half of your clothes.
as you zip up the suitcase, you were ready to head out when jinwoo steps in front of you, preventing you from leaving. confusion was written all over his face, and he kept shaking his head at you, "what is all this? if something is wrong, or if i have done something to upset you, then you need to tell me instead of storming out."
feeling the effects of the alcohol giving you the much needed liquid courage, you let out a boisterous laughter, shaking your head as you struggled to calm down, hands clutching at your abdomen as you ignored the tears streaming down your face.
"it's not you, it's never your fault, jinwoo. no, it's always been me that was the problem."
taking advantage of your strength as an s-rank, you shoved jinwoo aside, and due to him being so caught off guard, he moves away with little resistance.
letting out a string of whispered curses, you were close to reaching the front door when jinwoo warps in front of you once more, blocking your escape. his eyes were glowing purple now, "what is going on with you-"
by now, your emotions were at a boiling point, making you shove at jinwoo's chest as his back lands against the door. hurt and anger was seen against his glowing eyes when he takes a hold of your hands, forcing you back into the apartment.
you struggle against him, trying to free your hands from his tight grip, but to no avail. jinwoo continues to gain up on you, making you step backwards as you felt the back of your legs get caught on the couch.
you land against the cushions with an audible gasp, jinwoo hovering over you as he kept you trapped against his body and the couch. your eyes weakly shone with hatred for him, but deep down, you knew you could never hate him-
you just hated the thought of losing him-
and that was enough to leave you crying, your emotions no longer able to be contained. your sobs were painful, wracking through the entirety of your form, making jinwoo's gaze soften considerably for you.
as you wallowed in your tears, jinwoo takes this chance to hold you in his embrace, using his free hand to roll your suitcase back into your shared bedroom. once jinwoo places the suitcase against the wall, he continues to let out soft coos of your name, pressing comforting kisses against your hair as he got into bed with you.
both of your forms lay down against the plush mattress, and as jinwoo kept pressing soft kisses against your skin was when your tears begin to slow. unable to help yourself, you clutch to the front of his shirt, knowing that you had to tell him the truth-
that jinwoo deserved to know the truth.
"i've been living a lie for most of my adult life."
you notice the way jinwoo stiffens in response to your words, yet still, he remains quiet, allowing you to continue.
"my childhood... and well, how i grew up in general wasn't pretty. my mom outright stated how much she despised me, a-and, i never was loved by her."
the memory of her disdain and neglect was enough to send a fresh wave of tears, but you pushed through the painful memories to continue your confession to jinwoo.
"that's why, when i was able to awaken as a hunter, i decided to never reveal my true self. i had to be a monster if my own mother couldn't love me for who i was. t-that's why, i figured it was easy to capture everyone's attention with a honey sweet personality-
but that's just not who i am... i never was overly positive with a heart of gold. i've got sharp edges around my heart, like glass from years spent feeling like i was nothing because of my mother, and i just- i can't do it anymore.
that's why you deserve someone who is truly bright and sunny... someone who isn't fake like me, someone-"
yet you weren't given the chance to finish your statement when jinwoo takes a hold of your chin, keeping it still when he presses a searing kiss against your lips. such an affectionate and intimate touch was enough to make your breath hitch in response as you automatically kissed him back.
jinwoo smiles against your lips for a brief second before pulling away from you. he frames at your face with two hands, using the pad of his thumb to caress at your features while telling you, "how could i ever think of abandoning such a pure heart like yours? and your mother truly was foolish, never realizing just how perfect and loving you were. she never deserved you, sarang, not the other way around."
his words make your eyes widen in response, "w-what?"
yet your boyfriend simply hums, holding you even closer to him as he allows your head to rest against his chest while kissing your hair, "i'm sorry, as your lover- as the man who loves you more than anything else in the world, i'm sorry for never realizing your pain.
from now on, you don't have to worry about your persona anymore. you don't need to be anything but you, my love... and i promise to accept you wholeheartedly... unconditionally."
your mind was spinning. was this really happening? was the man you had come to love really willing to accept you for who you are?
with eyes quickly filling with tears, you bury your face even deeper within his chest, "you won't hate me when i'm not smiling all the time?"
"nope."
"and... you won't get mad when i voice my anxieties and cry a bit...?"
"never." jinwoo reassures you with yet another whisper, pressing a kiss against your temple when he tells you, "from this moment on, you never have to hide your true self... for i already know that i'll love you regardless... you're my entire universe, and i can't see myself ever leaving you when you are all that i've ever wanted."
being filled with emotion, you allow your tears to freely fall, calling out jinwoo's name in a loving manner as you lean up to press a kiss against his awaiting lips, heart no longer surrounded by glass as you felt it slowly beginning to open up before pounding for the man that held you so lovingly within his embrace...
a.n. - this story was a long time coming, since it was a challenge for me to write. yet still, i hope you readers enjoyed this. and please, do listen to 'saturn' by sza. it is such a gorgeous song, and sza's vocals sound so airy and dreamy 🥹
all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.
#sung jinwoo x reader#jinwoo sung x reader#sung jinwoo x you#jinwoo sung x you#solo leveling x reader#.stories
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boy is mine _ jake {remake vers.}
PAIRING : art major!jake x male reader
GENRE : Best friend's love, hidden love, betrayal
DESCRIPTION : M/n's internal conflict takes center stage as he grapples with confusing feelings for his best friend Jake, while navigating a messy situation with Jake's girlfriend May.
june masterlist buy me a coffee
“My M/n!” M/n perked up from his notebook at the sudden coo of his name being called out loud and boisterous. He was sitting in the quad on campus, textbook and stationary sprawled out on the table as he set them where he wanted since he was by himself, well, not anymore.
A dark-haired male came jogging towards him, bag on his shoulder bouncing just like his hair in rhythm of steps. M/n sighed, snatching the reading glasses from his face. “Can you be any louder, Jake?” He grumbled.
“My M/n~” Jake repeated, throwing his bag on the table on top of M/n’s stuff carelessly as he wrapped his arms around M/n’s neck from behind, lifting the latter’s face as he gave him an unconditional amount of forehead kisses.
“Ugh, Jake! Gross, you fucking dog,” M/n whined, referring to Jake’s justifiable nickname, Golden Retriever.
Jake giggled, completely unfazed by M/n’s slaps and kicks as he pulled away and sat uncomfortably close to M/n on the bench. “What are you doing?”
“I was preparing for mid-terms, but I just got assaulted by a puppy and now I want to go home.” M/n huffed, gathering his stuff together. Jake reached out to M/n’s hands, taking them just for a second but M/n took them away, giving him a grim look.
Jake’s big smile stuck on his face even after rejection, “Should we go to a party?”
“Why?”
"Because I wanna drink with my best friend!" Jake declared, practically shouting the words with an enthusiasm that bordered on obnoxiousness. M/n rolled his eyes, shoving his textbooks and papers into his bag.
"You wouldn't be asking if you weren't already planning on going. Who's party?" he replied, keeping his voice neutral.
"May's birthday party at the pub," Jake said, a touch of nervousness creeping into his voice. "She misses you, you know."
May. Right. Jake's girlfriend of what felt like an eternity. M/n rarely registered her presence when it was just him and Jake together. A pang of something unidentifiable shot through him.
"You're not asking me to go to her birthday party," M/n started, his voice low, "you're asking me to be her present because you forgot about it, aren't you?"
Jake's face fell, but only for a moment. "Guilty," he admitted sheepishly. "These theater sets are kicking my ass, and getting May a gift completely slipped my mind. But trust me, once she sees you, none of that will matter. You gotta come!"
M/n knew agreeing was a mistake the moment the words left his mouth. The pub was crammed with a dozen or so university students, all seemingly competing in a shot-taking contest. Within thirty minutes, a good chunk of them already sported flushed cheeks and glazed eyes.
M/n nursed his beer at the end of the table, his gaze bouncing between Jake and May, who were engrossed in conversation, their shoulders occasionally brushing. A knot formed in M/n's stomach. Logically, he knew it shouldn't bother him. Jake was undeniably touchy-feely with everyone, a walking embodiment of affection. But there was a difference, a subtle shift in the way Jake held May, a possessiveness that wasn't there when they were alone.
Maybe he was overthinking it. Yet, the unease wouldn't leave him. Jake was a good friend, a confusing one, and M/n wasn't sure he wanted to unravel the tangled mess it was becoming.
A boisterous suggestion echoed across the table, "Hey, let's draw chopsticks! Loser does a dare!" Cheers erupted as the partygoers eagerly grabbed for the sticks.
"How about the birthday girl chooses the dare?" someone else shouted, gesturing towards May, whose cheeks were already flushed a celebratory red.
May bit her lip, scanning the faces around the table. "Hmm, well, I met Jake at one of these parties, right? Let's keep the love in the air!" A chorus of coos rose from the table, everyone except M/n, whose smile faltered.
"So," May continued, her gaze lingering on Jake for a beat too long, "whoever gets the marked stick has to kiss... um..." Her eyes darted around, landing on M/n.
M/n choked on his drink, coughing as his hand flew to his mouth. "W-What? Why me?" he spluttered, a mixture of confusion and irritation twisting his gut.
"Well, you're single, aren't you?" a voice chimed in, oblivious to M/n's discomfort. "And you're always around Jake, I hardly get to see him!"
M/n forced a chuckle, the urge to roll his eyes a physical struggle. Across from him, Jake's face had morphed into a mask of concern. He gently placed a hand on May's shoulder.
"May," Jake said softly, his voice laced with a protectiveness that sent a jolt through M/n, "maybe pick someone else. It's clear he's not comfortable with this."
M/n drained his beer in one long gulp, the bitterness mirroring his mood. "I’ll do it… I guess," he declared, a forced cheer in his voice. "Maybe I’ll get a girlfriend tonight."
The sarcasm was thick enough to spread, and Jake winced internally. The last thing he wanted was anyone else getting close to M/n, especially romantically. A selfish part of him couldn't help but wish he didn’t mean it.
With a forced smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, M/n joined the others in piling their chopsticks into the glass. His fingers tapped a rapid rhythm on the table, betraying the nervous energy bubbling beneath his sarcastic offer. May, oblivious to the tension, swirled the sticks with a giddy laugh. As everyone reached in blindly, M/n couldn't help but steal a glance at Jake. The other boy's face was a mask, giving away nothing of the turmoil churning within him.
"Alright, pick!" May declared, her voice sparkling with anticipation.
A collective breath hitched as everyone flipped their chopsticks over. M/n's heart hammered a frantic tattoo against his ribs. He met Jake's gaze for a fleeting moment, a silent plea hanging in the air. But Jake's expression remained unreadable. Then, a gasp ripped through the room.
"Oh my god, Jake, you drew the red one!"
An awkward silence descended on the table. Someone attempted to lighten the mood, "Come on, it's just a peck on the cheek, right May? Like a little boy’s love kind of thing."
May's smile faltered, replaced by a steely glint in her eyes. "Actually," she started, but before she could finish, Jake was already on his feet.
A collective murmur rippled through the group as Jake shuffled towards M/n. M/n felt a blush creep up his neck as Jake stopped behind him. A hand gently cupped his chin, tilting his face upwards.
"Should we do it?" Jake whispered a playful smile on his lips.
M/n could only stare, his mind a whirlwind of confusion. Did Jake...? But then, another voice cut through the tension.
May slammed her hand on the table, the sound echoing like a gunshot. Every head snapped towards her.
"I... need the restroom," she stammered, her voice tight. "I'll be right back. Jake, would you mind coming with me?"
The request hung heavy in the air. Was May upset? Was she jealous? M/n couldn't decipher the emotions swirling behind her flushed cheeks. He watched, speechless, as Jake hesitated for a beat before nodding and following May out of the pub.
The quad, once a familiar haven for shared study sessions, now felt like a ghost town. Jake no longer stuck to M/n like glue, his usual boisterous greetings replaced by a heavy silence. M/n would steal glances at Jake passing by, shoulders hunched and eyes focused on the ground, a stark contrast to his usual boundless energy.
The incident at the pub had shattered everything. May's veiled jabs had morphed into a public humiliation.
One morning, as he rounded a corner on his way to class, a figure materialized in his path. It was May. Her face, usually brimming with practiced cheer, was etched with a mixture of defiance and something else – maybe a flicker of hurt? Before he could react, a familiar sensation hit him – the sting of a thrown beverage soaking through his shirt.
His carefully balanced stack of textbooks tumbled to the ground, papers scattering like lost memories. A primal urge to lash out surged through him, warring with the familiar ache of betrayal. He clenched his fists, knuckles turning white, fighting the urge to react with violence.
“I heard boyfriend stealers like to get wet. Thought I’d help you get started.” May spat. M/n hung his head low, not looking up because he knew if he looked into May’s eyes he was either going to break down crying and apologize or wrap his hands around her neck and squeeze so hard that she just might take her words back.
The world blurred into a mess of colors. M/n's breath hitched in his throat, a choked sob escaping his lips. Tears streamed down his face, hot and relentless, as his vision swam. Before he could spiral further, a presence materialized in front of him.
"Hey, hey, M/n!" A frantic voice broke through the fog. M/n vaguely registered Jake's hand cupping his face, gently wiping away the stinging tears with the hem of his shirt. Even the light pats on his cheek did little to penetrate the haze of his emotions.
Hyperventilation wracked his body, a suffocating tightness constricting his chest. He felt like drowning, desperately grasping for air but unable to find the surface.
The next thing he knew, M/n found himself lying rigid on Jake's bed, the stark white ceiling an unwelcome anchor in the storm raging inside him. His hands lay folded on his chest, mirroring the lifelessness he felt.
Memories flickered in his mind, bitter and accusatory. All the times he should have stayed away from May, the signs he ignored, all culminating in this messy, painful moment. Perhaps, he thought with a pang of regret, he should have just avoided everyone altogether.
A sigh broke the silence, drawing M/n's attention to Jake. The other boy was perched on the edge of the bed, legs crossed, his face etched with concern.
"Knowing you, you’re probably thinking about how you could’ve changed all of this. You stupid Psych majors, always thinking and shit." Jake said, his voice laced with tired sympathy.
Jake sighed, “But it’s not your fault. It’s mine.”
“But… Do you think it’s a crime to fall in love with your best friend?”
Jake sighed, the sound heavy in the quiet room. He met M/n's gaze, a mix of emotions swirling in his dark eyes.
"No," he said softly. "In fact," he continued, scooting closer to the edge of the bed, "it might be best and worst feeling to me."
M/n's breath hitched. He watched, heart pounding, as Jake reached out and tucked a stray tear from M/n's cheek with his thumb. The touch sent a jolt through him, a spark of something he'd been yearning for without even realizing it.
"I have something to say," Jake confessed, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, "I broke up with May a few days ago. It wasn't working, and seeing the way she treated you... well, let's just say it made everything clear."
A flicker of surprise crossed M/n's face, quickly replaced by a hesitant hope. "Clear about what?"
Jake leaned in closer, the space between them shrinking to a mere breath. "About how I feel about you, M/n. It's more than friendship, it's..." He paused, searching M/n's eyes. "It's why those stupid dares at the pub made me crazy. It's why I couldn't stand the thought of anyone else touching you."
A warmth bloomed in M/n's chest. All the confusion, the hurt, it all started to make sense. "You..." he started, his voice thick with emotion.
"Yeah," Jake said, a shy smile gracing his lips. "Me. But do you… feel the same?"
M/n's answer was lost in the soft press of their lips. The kiss was hesitant at first, a tentative exploration of newfound feelings. But then, as if a dam had broken, it deepened, filled with a longing that had been simmering beneath the surface for far too long.
When they finally pulled apart, breathless and smiling, a new understanding shone in their eyes. The awkwardness, the confusion, it was all replaced by a newfound certainty. Maybe falling in love with your best friend wasn't a crime, it was the start of a beautiful, messy, and perfectly imperfect love story.
#enhypen x male reader#kpop x male reader#kpop x reader#yunqitv#kpop bg#kpop boys#enhypen#enhypen x reader#enhypen imagines#enhypen scenarios#enhypen fluff#enhypen smut#sim jaeyun#sim jake#jake x reader#jake x male reader#sim jake x reader#sim jake x you
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RippleClan: Moon 44
Oilstripe’s whitecough and Mosskit’s greencough are gone, but Wildclaw catches greencough.
[Image ID: Mosskit and Oilstripe leave the medicine den in the back with the words - GREENCOUGH and - WHITECOUGH under them respectively. Wildclaw faces Fennelspot with the words + CONDITION: GREENCOUGH underneath her. Fennelspot says “StarClan, a whole season of disease…”]
It would have been nice if Fennelspot could end his day by saying “Ah, Oilstripe and Mosskit are symptom free, all I have to do is care for Burdockcreek and I can rest.” He even got Spike out of the den for a bit. But alas, StarClan had other plans for him.
“When the branches creak and the graves all quake,” Wildclaw sang at the top of her lungs as Rattlepelt led her into the medicine den, “spooks come out for a singing wake! Happy haunts materialize and begin to vocalize! Grim growling ghosts come out to socialize!” Wildclaw flung herself about as she sang, unbalanced. Her breathing was quick and her body shivered even as she seemed blissful in her odd dance. Fennelspot had been mixing some of Burdockcreek’s medicine into a small meal when the two mollies entered his den. He stopped mixing and stared at Wildclaw, quickly dreading the hours ahead.
“What is this?” Fennelspot groaned while Rattlepelt nudged Wildclaw toward a nest.
“I had to convince her she could help Rabbitjoy and I in a performance to get her out of her nest,” Rattlepelt said. “I think she has a fever.” Wildclaw sneezed mid-verse. Fennelspot stuck his nose in her ear.
“You’re right about that,” Fennelspot muttered. Wildclaw coughed and sputtered over her nest, spewing green gunk as she went. Fennelspot backed up. “StarClan, a whole season of disease… now Wildclaw has greencough too!”
“Can I help?” Rattlepelt gulped as Fennelspot hurried to his stores.
“Try to convince her to eat dandelion leaves,” Fennelspot huffed, pointing his tail to the small stock of dried leaves amidst his wide collection. “I’ll need to make more black cherry tea than I expected. This is a severe fever, use all the leaves. We will make do.”
“Fennelspot!” Oilstripe hurried into the den and bumped into Rattlepelt. Rattlepelt dropped the dandelion leaves. Her paw smashed the delicate dry herbs into fragments.
“Oilstripe!” Fennelspot groaned. “We needed that!”
“Stars, I’m sorry,” Oilstripe gulped, her gaze touching on Wildclaw. “It was for her, right? Let me help, I’m sorry.”
“No, please,” Fennelspot groaned, blocking Oilstripe from his stores. “You just recovered from whitecough, I don’t need you catching greencough.”
“Oilstripe!” Wildclaw loopily cheered, tail rising. “Oilstripe. Oil, Oil… I just want to say… you are, by far, one of the most interesting cats I have ever met. I’m so jealous of you! Why can’t I see ghosts?” She rolled onto her side with a dramatic groan.
“Thanks?” Oilstripe chuckled. “Wait, no, I came in for a reason. Fennelspot, you asked me to keep an eye out for Shadowdrop’s spirit.” Fennelspot’s ears perked up. Rattlepelt paused next to Wildclaw who, despite her fevered haze, latched onto her brother’s name.
“He’s here?” Fennelspot asked.
“He’s in StarClan,” Oilstripe said with a nod. “I saw him a few minutes ago, watching his kits.”
“It’s been over a moon since he died, why is this the first time you’re seeing him?” Fennelspot asked, moving closer to his friend.
“He wouldn’t talk to me,” Oilstripe huffed. “I saw him, he saw me, he walked into the nursery, and when I looked inside, he was gone and Troutkit started questioning me about the ‘weird look’ on my face.”
“Told you he’d get to StarClan,” Wildclaw grumbled as Rattlepelt groomed her neck.
“I thought you should be the one to let Downstar know,” Oilstripe explained, tensing a bit at the leader’s name. “She’s… never been happy to hear about my sight.” Fennelspot hesitated. He still needed to make his batch of black cherry tea and find a different treatment for Wildclaw’s fever. He didn’t have time to talk to Downstar. And yet…
“You both wanted to help me?” he sighed, padding to the bundle of black cherry bark he kept close by in recent moons. “Then Rattlepelt, would you brew more black cherry tea for Wildclaw and Burdockcreek? After you get Wildclaw into the quarantine den, that is. We have it for a reason.” Rattlepelt nudged Wildclaw to her paws, despite the sick molly’s whining. “Oilstripe, I need aspen bark for Wildclaw’s fever. There are aspen trees near WheatClan’s border. Harvest the bark and get back to camp quickly. Is your father in with Downstar?”
“He’s with Burdockcreek,” Oilstripe said, inching out of the den. “I think Downstar’s with Weedfoot though! I’ll be back soon!” With that, Oilstripe ran out of camp. Rattlepelt escorted Wildclaw to the quarantine den. Fennelspot groomed his chest and prepared to give Downstar the news.
[Image ID: Fennelspot talks to Downstar, who is flanked by the spirits of Duskkit and Shadowdrop. Under Downstar, it says LEVEL UP! ADVENTUROUS -> WISE. Downstar says “There is no ‘getting better’, Fennelspot. I will always be like this. I have to learn to live with it.”]
Sure enough, Weedfoot and Downstar were both in the leader’s den, working through recent border patrol reports. Downstar noticed Fennelspot’s arrival first and paused mid-sentence, catching Weedfoot’s attention as well.
“Hello, Fennelspot,” Weedfoot purred. “We’re finishing up our discussion here, would you be able to wait a moment?”
“I just have something I need to tell Downstar,” Fennelspot explained. “I didn’t want to wait longer than need be.”
“Is it important?” Downstar asked. Fennelspot nodded softly, his nerves tickling his gut. “Well, go ahead and share the news, Fennel.” Fennelspot cleared his throat.
“Shadowdrop has made it to StarClan,” Fennelspot said. “I… just received word.” Downstar and Weedfoot wouldn’t stop staring at Fennelspot. Part of him wanted to run away, but he waited as the weight of his announcement settled on Downstar’s bicolored fur.
“Six more lives to live,” Downstar muttered, “and I’ll see him again.” Weedfoot licked Downstar’s shoulder as the tortie leader bowed her head.
“I hope knowing he’s watching over you will help you get better,” Fennelspot said, bowing his head as well. Yet as he did so, the fur along his neck prickled. He looked up, and Downstar was glaring at him.
“Fennelspot, I need you to understand something,” Downstar grumbled. Weedfoot stepped back, feeling the raw energy rippling under Downstar’s fur. “I have been… I have not been my old self in almost two years. I can’t go back to being that molly no matter how much I learn. There is no ‘getting better’, Fennelspot. I will always be like this. I have to learn to live with it.”
“I’m sorry,” Fennelspot quickly stammered, “those were thoughtless words.”
“I’m not mad, Fennel,” Downstar groaned, shaking her head. “But… don’t treat what I have like you treat Burdockcreek’s greencough. It’s not something you can cure.” Fennelspot sunk into himself.
“Let’s get back to the border reports, Downstar,” Weedfoot muttered with a gentle touch to Downstar’s shoulder. Downstar nodded and Fennelspot carefully left the leader’s den.
The two of them could only do their best.
(Fennelspot: 101, male, cleric, insecure, trusted advisor, incredible runner)
(Wildclaw: 36, female, caretaker, fierce, trusted advisor)
(Rattlepelt: 27, female, artisan, fierce, leather artist)
(Oilstripe: 48, female, historian, charismatic, ghost sight)
(Weedfoot: 93, female, deputy, charismatic, steady paws, formidable fighter)
(Downstar: 103, female, leader, wise, trusted advisor, very clever)
Spike’s wound is no longer infected. She observes Clan dynamics with a knowing gaze.
[Image ID: Spike talks to Carnationspeckle, who says “Well, how do you want to spend your days?”. Underneath the brown tabby, it says LEVEL UP! SPIKE -> SPIKECRASH, - INFECTION. Lavenderpaw approaches, yowling “You’re staying?”. Underneath Lavenderpaw, it says LEVEL UP! BOLD -> PLAYFUL.]
---
Spike still couldn’t move much of her lower back, and she still needed help to move anywhere beyond the reach of her nest, but she was at least out of that stuffy den for a while. The snow covering camp made her shiver. The view from camp toward the ocean was unmatched, even though part of the coastline was blocked by the camp walls. Spike never had such a good view of the glimmering water from her home with her mother.
In the deep shine of sunset, RippleClan was alive. Wildclaw sang through her fever as Rattlepelt led her to the quarantine den. Ripplepaw and Lavenderpaw sparred outside the apprentice’s den while Carnationspeckle enjoyed the sunset with Troutkit at her side. Mosskit and Tempestkit led their nervous sister out of the nursery to practice hunting stances. Parsley and James joked outside of the elder’s den about their old lives with humans, stories that sounded achingly familiar to Spike. In that moment, she felt more alive than she ever remembered feeling in that old shack with her mother and aunt.
“Someone looks happy!” Spike startled as Carnationspeckle suddenly appeared beside her. A bit of pain rippled down her back when her body shifted awkwardly in the snow, but she bit it down. She’d grown used to the stiffness and frustration of being unable to move without pain.
“What can I say?” Spike sighed. “This place… it’s nice. It’s peaceful.”
“Not a bad place to recover,” Carnationspeckle purred. Troutkit, who seemed to have doubled in size since Spike first met her, peered around her mother and studied Spike.
“Your back’s healing well,” Troutkit hummed. “I can’t smell the infection anymore.” Troutkit sniffed the stick supporting Spike’s broken spine.
“Fennelspot said my recovery is improving again,” Spike explained.
“I’m going to be a cleric when I’m apprenticed next moon,” Troutkit explained, hesitating between her words. “I’ll try to help you walk again.”
“Thank you, Troutkit.” Spike couldn’t help but purr at the way Troutkit stood a bit taller when she talked about helping. Troutkit hid behind her whiskers at the compliment.
“You’re really starting to fit into life in RippleClan,” Carnationspeckle chirped. “Have you thought about staying once you’re healed?” The few muscles Spike could move in her lower half tensed.
“I can’t,” Spike muttered, shaking her head before she could say something she regretted. “My mom needs me. She won’t do well on her own. I don’t know if my father has seen her since I left, she could be…” She stopped, remembering the presence of the young kit at Carnationspeckle’s side.
“But if you had the choice,” Carnationspeckle asked, tucking her paws under her, “would you want to stay?”
“What’s the point of daydreaming if I can’t stay here forever?” Spike groaned.
“What if you asked your mom if you could stay?” Troutkit suggested. She copied how her mother sat, casting insecure glances at Spike as she talked. “If she loves you, she’d want you to be happy. You can always visit her!”
“My mother isn’t like your mothers, Troutkit,” Spike sighed. “She… well, she’s sick. She has been for a long time. She doesn’t see the world like we do, and that can get her hurt. She needs someone to look after her.”
“But don’t you deserve to be happy?” Troutkit asked. “Wouldn’t she want you to be happy?” Spike laid her head in the snow. Her deep sigh collected around her in a soft fog. It felt selfish, but didn’t she say something similar to Cinderella moons back, when her family was whole and Cinderella felt guilty for speaking to her Clan cat friend when she could be hunting?
“If I were to join,” Spike said hesitantly, “would I take one of the roles you talk about so much? What would I do with myself?”
“Well, how do you want to spend your days?” Carnationspeckle asked. Spike thought about it for a few minutes, letting the happy chatter of the Clan calm her nerves.
“I’ve spent a lot of my life helping my mother battle her demons,” Spike eventually said, pushing herself up. “I think I’m better at that than I ever was helping Cinderella in the hunt. Isn’t Palepaw training to help others in that way?”
“She’s going to be the Clan’s first mediator,” Carnationspeckle purred.
“Then I’d feel less selfish if I was helping others,” Spike said with a bit more confidence.
“You’re staying?” Lavenderpaw scrambled away from his brother and bounded up to Spike and Carnationspeckle. “You’re joining RippleClan?”
“I think I am,” Spike purred. Lavenderpaw laughed, running and dancing around Spike. Carnationspeckle and Troutkit both giggled at Lavenderpaw’s antics.
“You should take a Clan name!” Lavenderpaw gasped. “Something like… Spikestrike! No, no, I have something better. Spikecrash!”
“That sounds so violent,” Carnationspeckle chuckled.
“It sounds powerful,” Lavenderpaw corrected her. “You should ask Downstar to name you Spikecrash!”
“Spikecrash…” the brown tabby hummed. “I like that name.”
(Spikecrash: 19, female, mediator, wise, good speaker, lore keeper)
(Carnationspeckle: 46, female, caretaker, compassionate, fish-like swimmer)
(Troutkit: 5, female, kit, insecure, morbid curiosity)
(Lavenderpaw: 10, male, warrior apprentice, bold, loves to sing)
As Weedfoot leads a patrol with Clammask, Oilstripe, and Ripplepaw, an AshClan apprentice catches them by the border and begs to join RippleClan.
[Image ID: Weedfoot, Clammask, Oilstripe, and Ripplepaw face a silvery-pink apprentice with white spots and green eyes. Under her, it says NEW PLAYER: ELMPAW, 11, FEMALE, CHARISMATIC, CAREFUL LISTENER.]
---
The patrol to find Daphne, Spikecrash’s mother, was shockingly uneventful. Weedfoot took Clammask, Oilstripe, and Ripplepaw out the morning after Spikecrash asked the Clan to inform her mother of her new life. It didn’t take long to find where she had once lived with her mother, although no cat matching Daphne’s brown description lived in the abandoned human den on the edge of a vast field of wheat. A passing barn cat told the patrol Daphne had been scooped up by the humans who lived beyond the wheat field, so Weedfoot asked them to pass on their message and directed the patrol back to RippleClan territory.
Of course, there was still plenty of time left for the patrol to check some of the other borders of the Clan. Sure, the weather was cold and the snow tickled, but there was an energy to the patrol that day that no one wanted to destroy.
“When it gets warmer,” Ripplepaw promised, “I want to show the cats in LynxClan how we turn ocean water into drinking water. They’ll be so envious of us!”
“Alright, we don’t want to brag all the time,” Oilstripe laughed, playfully nudging her apprentice. “Just tell me how it works. I want to see if you actually understand it.”
“I’ve never had a head for science, personally,” Clammask chuckled as she and Weedfoot walked behind the excited mentor/apprentice pair. “I’m glad I don’t have to teach any of my apprentices how plants grow or how the stars move.”
“That’s why you’re a caretaker and we’re historians,” Weedfoot purred into Clammask’s ear. “Don’t tell Ripplepaw I’ve said this, or she’ll tell her brothers and make them jealous, but I’m rather proud the kit I named after this Clan is the one who decided to be a historian like me.”
“Do you think your kits have lived up to their namesakes so far?”
“I can’t help but see a more mature version of the first Wasppaw in my son. The other three are quite different from the cats I knew though.”
“I could only imagine how Puddlespeckle might have felt about Puddlepaw. It would have been funny to see.” Weedfoot laughed alongside Clammask as Ripplepaw finished her surprise quiz.
“Ah, and here’s the AshClan border,” Oilstripe purred as the patrol approached the ever-familiar territory they once fought against. “If we fought AshClan back in the day with the size of our Clan now, we would have had a much easier time beating them.”
“I think another border patrol already beat us here,” Ripplepaw pointed out, scenting the air. “Our scent is fresh.”
“That just means less for us to do,” Weedfoo purred, stretching her hind legs. “It’s been wonderful walking with all of you, but I think we should head home and curl up around a fire before our paws get too cold.”
“Deputy Weedfoot?” A soft voice danced over the AshClan border. Everyone’s ears stood tall. Weedfoot took the lead and scanned AshClan’s heavy trees,
“Show yourself, please,” Weedfoot huffed at nothing. A chunk of snow fell from the trees. A long-furred, silvery molly jumped from the upper branches and landed squarely in front of Weedfoot. Oilstripe and Clammask took defensive poses beside their deputy. The newcomer shook loose snow off her thick pelt. She locked eyes with Weedfoot and bowed low and long in a way only an AshClan cat ever would.
“Deputy Weedfoot,” the young molly gulped, head still low, “do you know who I am?” It was hard for Weedfoot not to know. She shared her father’s smokey fur.
“Elmpaw, am I right?” Ripplepaw chirped. “You’re one of the caretaker apprentices in AshClan.”
“And Eelgrowl’s daughter,” Weedfoot said quietly. Oilstripe moved closer to Weedfoot at the mention of the tom’s name. Ripplepaw shifted back, her cheerful expression slightly strained.
“He’s Eelstar now, ma’am,” Elmpaw explained, daring to look up.
“Autumnstar’s dead?” Clammask snapped.
“For two days now, ma’am,” Elmpaw muttered.
Weedfoot couldn’t get over Elmpaw’s news. Eelstar? The tom who murdered Weedfoot’s mate had finally become leader of AshClan? Weedfoot had prayed he would retire or pass on before Autumnstar. But now… what was Weedfoot supposed to do about him? How could she ever hope to work with him when he…
“Where’s your mentor?” Oilstripe asked.
“I snuck away,” Elmpaw said. She gave herself a few good licks, smoothing out her fluffy fur, and said in as respectful a voice as she could muster, “Deputy Weedfoot, I’ve grown up with stories of RippleClan’s open acceptance of loners and kittypets and all sorts of cats. I ask that you allow me sanctuary in RippleClan. I cannot live under Father’s leadership, ma’am. I’ll be a great caretaker for RippleClan, so please… take me back to your camp.” Weedfoot kept staring. She still hadn’t fully processed Eelstar’s ascension.
“You want to leave your Clan when your father has just become leader?” Clammask huffed. “Why would you do that? Knowing your Clan’s culture, you’d be in a position of honor.”
“I don’t want a position of honor, ma’am,” Elmpaw groaned. “I don’t want all the expectations that come with being the leader’s daughter! I’m not a leaderly molly. I could barely handle the responsibilities of being a deputy’s daughter.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Clammask sighed, “but I don’t think we can in good conscience take an apprentice—”
“You can finish your training under Downstar,” Weedfoot finally said. She walked to the edge of the border and touched noses with Elmpaw. “I’m certain she’ll agree to let you join us. If you don’t want to live in AshClan’s culture, RippleClan is a safe place for you.” Elmpaw purred deeply. Her green eyes glittered in the shimmer of sunhigh. She pounced over the border and bowed once more to Weedfoot.
“We don’t bow in RippleClan, to start,” Oilstripe laughed. Elmpaw quickly stood, brushing off her AshClan manners with a strained chuckle.
“Weedfoot…” Clammask muttered, but this time, Ripplepaw interrupted her.
“We need to start our relationship with Eelstar on the right paw and show him he can’t do what Autumnstar used to do,” Ripplepaw declared, rubbing against Elmpaw. “What better way to do that than by stealing his daughter right under his nose?”
“What better way indeed,” Weedfoot muttered.
I hope you’d approve of this, Paleshade.
(Weedfoot: 93, female, deputy, charismatic, steady paws, formidable fighter)
(Ripplepaw: 10, female, historian apprentice, charismatic, avid play-fighter, splashes in puddles)
(Oilstripe: 48, female, historian, charismatic, ghost sight)
(Clammask: 38, female, caretaker, righteous, lore master, good teacher)
(Elmpaw: 11, female, caretaker apprentice, charismatic, careful listener)
#warrior cats#clangen#rippleclan#warriors#rippleclan story#downstar#oilstripe#weedfoot#fennelspot#elmpaw#wildclaw#rattlepelt#troutkit#carnationspeckle#spike#spikecrash#clammask#ripplepaw#lavenderpaw
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@moonwatermicrofics May 27, Comfort - part 12
Soulmate Shadow AU- Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11 (bonus Rosekiller)
Word count: 518, Rating: G
(This is a direct continuation of Fire)
“I thought it was for the best,” Remus said quietly, pulling his knees to his chest. His hand was still playing with his now singed hair and he was grimacing, “No one should be stuck with a monster.”
“But- did you ever think- I spent the last six years thinking my soulmate was out there, suffering alone,” Regulus said, blinking away tears, not sure what to do with the incredibly tangled, conflicting emotions bubbling up in his chest.
“So what? You brought me tea out of pity?” Remus spat, and Regulus flinched because he had almost never been on the receiving end of Remus’s anger and it was a deeply unpleasant experience. The accusation stung and his first instinct was to apologize–
– until he realized how bloody unfair it was and he had to hold himself back from slapping the stubborn idiot.
“No, I bring you tea because I care about you. Because you- you gave me your books even though I know your family isn't that well off. Because you worked with my brother to invent new spells just so I could have my own novels. Because you make me feel special. And I- I love you, and I have for a long time, and it doesn't have anything to do with fucking shadows or you being a werewolf,” Regulus said and his voice had wobbled and cracked a few times before he got it all out, then he crossed his arms and looked at the rug in front of him.
“You love me? Really?” Remus asked softly and Regulus glared at him because, amongst everything else he was feeling, he was hurt and angry.
“I love you, too,” Remus said, “That’s… that's why I did those things for you…”
“Are you trying to say you loved me since you first met me?” Regulus teased, although his heart fluttered in his chest.
“Maybe… Maybe not immediately…” Remus said shyly, “But, ehm, definitely by Christmas.”
Regulus bit his lip and smiled then his face fell and he looked down at his hands, “You lied, though, you told us you didn't have a soulmate…”
“I didn't know it was you,” the werewolf said in a small voice.
“Da made me start using that spell when I was bit,” Remus added, curling in on himself, “I haven't seen my true shadow since I was 4.”
“Remus…” Regulus murmured, reaching over to run a hand through the undamaged parts of Remus’s hair. “I'm so sorry, love, that's awful.”
“I never imagined that I could ever be with someone like you, Regulus,” he whispered, his voice catching in his throat and his eyes going wet, “I could barely believe you wanted to be friends with me.”
“I do,” he said, in case that was not obvious, “I did,” he added, “Sometimes… when we'd watch a stupid sappy movie… I'd… think about asking you… but I was afraid you'd say no…”
“Regulus,” Remus murmured, uncurling, resting a broad hand on Regulus’s cheek and leaning forward so their lips were nearly brushing, “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” Regulus whispered, then kissed him.
#remus lupin#harry potter fanfiction#marauders#regulus black#moonwater#regulus x remus#remus x regulus#soulmate shadow au#moonwatermicrofics
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I'm a manhating feminist and career girl. How will you fuck my feminism away?
I'm sure this isn't the answer you were hoping for, not what you wanted to rub your needy, traitorous cunt to, but if you look deep down and be honest with yourself for once, it's the answer that you know is true. Because I wouldn't have to do anything to fuck your feminism away... You'll do it all for me. You'll do it to yourself and blame me for it. You're already doing it to yourself.
I didn't tell you to message a random, strange man on the internet looking for misogynistic words to get off to. You did that all by yourself, sweetie. You're so desperate and needy for male attention and approval you are literally initiating conversations begging to be seen and put in your place. You. You did that to yourself. You're probably sopping, gooey, sticky wet and already cum several times fantasizing about the terrible things I might answer with. The transformation doesn't happen suddenly, overnight. It happens gradually, incrementally until one day you just wake up and don't recognize who or what you are anymore and you ask how did this happen?
It happened because you wanted to make him happy and get his approval so badly the subtle seemingly innocent things he said crept inside and convinced you he was right.
You start by acting just a bit more demure and deferential around him, because that's what he likes and expects. The good girl comments, positive reinforcement, praise, and telling you how much better you look leads to you gradually dressing and doing your make-up in more and more daring and evocative ways until you dress and look like a cheap slut.
You share your thoughts and opinions on subjects less and less because he doesn't care what you think and is always mansplaining, correcting, and talking over you, so it's easier to just let him talk and make the decisions and agree with whatever he says.
You were probably a frigid, stuck up prude at one point, refusing with other guys to do certain things because "you're not that type of girl." But now things you once believed unthinkable are just simply what you do now because that's what makes a man happy. That's just what they expect. All that terrible misogynistic porn you get off to told you that and you know it's true. Sure, it didn't start out that way, but over time he's slowly convinced, cajoled, bullied, and coerced you into gradually doing more and more demeaning things. Until you're ashamed and humiliated by what is just normal sex now for you. And to make it worse, it was a lot easier to get there than you thought, wasn't it? Maybe what is most shameful is how little you actually fought or resisted and how easily you gave in and agreed to do what he wanted.
Like the parable of the frog in a pot of water on the stove, he just turned the heat up a little at a time, pushing your limits just a tiny bit and then a tiny bit more, and then when you got used to that, pushing them again and again until nothing remained of them. Using your desperate, pathetic need for praise and approval, and all those shameful uncontrollable orgasms and your sloppy, dripping wet cunt against you. Each time you came, every time something horrible and unspeakable you did for him made him cum, made him happy, made him tell you what a good, obedient girl you were, hard wiring that behavior directly into your mind and cunt until it's impossible to tell which one is making your decisions now.
Because you may not want to admit it, but you already knew before you asked this question that male pleasure and approval is already more important to you than your beliefs and Identity. Otherwise you wouldn't be here asking this, now would you?
I don't need to fuck the feminism out of you. You'll extinguish it on your own to be better for me. To be better for men. You'll do it without knowing it. You'll do it because you can't help yourself.
But most importantly, you'll do it because you're already doing it. You simply can't help yourself.
Because this is who you really truly are. The man hating feminist is just a mask you wear because you're embarrassed and ashamed of what you really are.
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I really like the way you portray Nicky in your Twitter AU! I feel like there isn't much discussion of him in general and when there is it can be a little wonky because he is sometimes a controversial character in the text. I always appreciate your thoughts on these kinds of things so I thought I would ask! What are your general thoughts toward him that go into the way you have him in your AU?
Oh!! What a good question!!!
Nicky. Nicky, Nicky, Nicky. I think that he has a bad rep in the fandom and like I GET it. I do. Regardless these are some things I personally believe to be true about him:
- He’s a people pleaser. Sometimes to the point of manipulation, but all he craves in life is to be liked, and accepted, and he will do ANYTHING for anyone if it means he’s their friend.
- He’s a chatterbox, the life of the party, but he’s got to be overcompensating for something. I think Nicky is deeply, severely insecure and self conscious and the best way he knows how to mask that is by being this larger than life personality. He seems like this stuck up I-Love-Myself kind of person, but the reality is, is that it’s a front for the fact that he just wants to be loved.
- He is physically incapable of thinking before he speaks 90% of the time. He hates it about himself, but the words are out of his mouth before he has time to stop them. His loud-mouth gets him in trouble more often than not.
- All he wants in life is to make people laugh. Like, he can be a dick sometimes, and he can be very spiteful when he wants to be, but other than Neil, Nicky is the first monster to make an effort to connect with the Upperclassmen. He needs that connection to thrive.
Idk I had a whole thing in my head to write about him but I’m stuck for words at the minute. I guess I just find Nicky hard to talk about sometimes because I know how divisive the Eden’s incident is among the fandom. Even now I’m thinking about it and having one opinion before my brain chimes in from the other side of the argument and makes a better point in favour of the other side. I don’t KNOW.
(It’s kind of funny that it’s perceived that Nicky is a difficult character to embody but honestly I have a way harder time with Renee and I really don’t know why. I have a pretty solid idea of who Nicky is to me but genuinely I struggle a bit sometimes with Renee. I don’t think I’ve done her character justice anywhere at ALL so I’m still working on that one.)
((Pinterest also helps, in my opinion. I don’t know if people still use it the way that we use to, but I still save inspo to my fox boards that help me with their characters. Here’s some super pointless things I have on my Nicky board that you didn’t ask for at all:))
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Lucifer invites Alastor to his room in the hotel. Alastor complies, for what else can he do while he was stuck in a deal with His Majesty?
Radioapple Week - Day 4
Prompt: Drinking/Bonding
“Come, Alastor, you have fixed me up, it’s only right for me to pay back the favour.” Lucifer smiles, as he glances down at his hands. The cloth, streaks of golden blood now forever staining its ragged appearance, was thrown to the side. Lucifer was blossoming in front of Alastor, and he was worried of the next word that fell from his mouth, either feather-like or tumbling down like crushing boulders. He didn’t want to ruin him, make him wilt all because he was blocking the sun.
“I’m good, don’t worry.” Alastor shakes his head at the offer. The staff being fixed was enough for the price that he thought Lucifer needed to pay.
“Oh, come on, we have only started today.”
“It’s late in the evening, and night is trailing just behind.”
“But that doesn’t mean we can’t spend it together, can we? This place smells of blood and death, let’s head back to my room, take a drink or two, shall we?”
“Are you serious?” Alastor’s eyebrows furrowed, pinched together, almost straining his facial muscles. “You better not make me sleep in your bed again.”
“No guarantee,” he teased, but when he sees Alastor’s expression unchanged, still as firm and rigid as how it was before, Lucifer says, “Okay, okay. No sleeping in my bed.”
“And not vice versa, either. I don’t want you in my room.”
“Got it. Okay, let’s get out of here, can we? I’m starting to sweat.”
The trapdoor swung open with a bang, and they climbed down. Alastor pondered over whether or not the trapdoor was cracked due to Lucifer’s unneeded immense force when we pushed the trapdoor aside.
~
“Welcome to my room,” Lucifer smiles, as his arms shoot up in a welcoming gesture. “Excuse the number of ducks, I’ve yet to transport them back to my own house.”
“Why do you have so many?” Alastor asks.
“I keep them as friends, they’re nice to have. Oh, and, did you know they were originally meant to be a chew toy? That’s funny, because I chew on one of them all the time. Stress relief, nothing much.” The rubber duck on the table next to the bed was picked with slender fingers. He placed its tail in its mouth, biting it down with jagged teeth. It was left with a couple of bite marks which glitter underneath the fluorescent lights of his room and there were more trailing downwards from where he initially bit into, past marks of hardship. “It’s not bad, I’d be dead if it ever broke, but I made it out of good material so it shouldn’t break… easily. Oh, and these aren’t actually made of rubber, they're made of plastic.”
Alastor nodded along to his every word, even though not a single word was understandable because he wasn’t interested in rubber ducks to the extent that Lucifer was, but was happy to listen to him talk so fondly about how he makes them, what purpose do each of them serve, and more—a script he had memorised in his head and was more than willing to share to anyone who piqued their interest in his creations.
After some time, Lucifer turns around and asks, “Sorry, was that too much? Am I boring you? I’m probably boring you. What was I—oh yeah, the alcohol. I keep a couple of bottles in the bottom drawer.” He pulls out one of them, liquid filled half-way. When Alastor tips himself lower to see the other bottle, he finds one of them empty.
“Have you had other guests over?” The question that Alastor asks makes Lucifer turn around to him.
“I have not. Why?” He inquires.
“One of the bottles is empty. Have you had other people finish it with you?”
His face tilts to the floor. He’s gloomy, eyes unable to meet him. Speechless. Quiet. The fist that holds the bottle is tightened, and Alastor was worried cracks would form underneath his grasp, liquid overflowing everywhere, or that the pain from healing wounds would be too much for him to bear, and the bottle would drop to the floor, screaming as a puddle of dejection would spread across the floor. “I’m not answering that question.”
“Of course, I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t apologise. Come on, I’ll pour you a glass.”
“Let me. Your hands need a rest.” Alastor picks the bottle from his hand, and gestures for Lucifer to sit on the bed.
He does so, and the bed creaks slightly, the blanket underneath him ruffling. “The glasses are behind the bottle, by the way,” he says. His voice is soft, forcing itself out. Alastor resisted the urge to envelop him at the moment, make him feel the perfume of flowers underneath the tip of his nose.
When he pulls the glasses out from behind the cupboard, Lucifer smiles ever so slightly, and Alastor feels his soul brighten with joy. “Wine? How classic.” Alastor jokes, hoping to tug that smile upwards a little more. It works, he’s got Lucifer grinning, while he pours him a glass first and hands it to him, before he pours a glass for himself.
When he sits next to Lucifer on the bed, he couldn’t help but notice the sparkle in his eyes. It dances and glimmers, it flickers with admiration, it tugs at his heart in the best way possible. The chaos that fires within him was drunk away, as he wants to live in the moment with Lucifer, stay in endless conversations with him. Neither seemed to mind the spillage of the wine on either of their suits, as they laughed and bickered as if they had known each other since life.
“I’m tired, Alastor yawns, and puts his glass on the tabletop.
“Let’s get you to your room,” Lucifer chuckles, a drunk mess—his words were slurring. “No sleeping in my bed, remember?”
A part of him chokes on regret. He wants to feel Lucifer next to him, like the night before. Curled up in his sheets, even if they aren’t touching each other, but his presence was enough to comfort him through nightmares. “I want to stay with you,” he blurts out, a thought that was never meant to make it past his razor-sharp teeth or his once filtered tongue.
“This is the drunk Alastor I’m talking to.” Lucifer stands on his two feet, wobbling. “Come on, to your room.”
“Okay, fine,” Alastor sighs, and stands too.
“Aren’t you going to go and mix with your shadow to go back to your room or something?”
“I want you to take me back.” Another sentence that he has muttered into the air, when he was too drunk to watch what he says, and he can’t ever take it back.
“You’re really drunk, jeez,” Lucifer laughs, as he offers Alastor his hand. When they slide together, a reminder of how Lucifer's hand first felt in his from the night before, the door was opened, and they stumbled back to Alastor’s room.
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#radioapple#appleradio#radioapple week#hazbin hotel#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbin lucifer#hazbin hotel lucifer#hazbin fanfic#hazbin hotel fic#hazbin hotel fanfic#hazbin hotel fanfiction
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Liveblogging Skizzleman Stream VOD, 6/7/24
Skizz Stream 06.07.24
06:05 Skizz opens the stream with a birthday you-yo for himself. He gives shout-outs to donos, they are coming thick and fast because this is a birthday stream.
10:50 Skizz attempts to login to Hermitcraft, gets the invalid session message that pops up whenever you’ve had the Minecraft window open more than 24 hours. Skizz does not seem to have ever seen this error before and attempts to get back into the game without restarting the launcher. It fails again, someone suggests that the Hermits have permabanned Skizz for his birthday. Skizz restarts the launcher.
14:20 Skizz successfully joins the server, appearing inside Level 1 of his pyramid. He jokes about the permaban and is immediately derailed by a $1000 dono. While he is stuttering over the donation, Joe Hills crashes into the pyramid and sings him Happy Birthday in Spanish. He’s followed immediately by Doc, who sings Happy Birthday in mixed English and German, and then by Scar, who sings Happy Birthday in English but makes up about half the words. Doc teases Skizz about not making his hours quota on the server and suggests that if Skizz does not file his reports, Impulse will be mad at him at the next Hermitcraft corporate meeting.
19:00 Doc encourages the birthday donos to continue rolling in and tells Scar to leave because he is ruining the hype vibes. (Scar is standing on top of the dark maze, almost invisible and not saying anything, so the vibe ruination is not immediately apparent.) Skizz insists that Scar is not ruining the vibes, whereupon Scar flies down off the maze with an enormous and unmuted burp. Skizz and Doc react to this with the delighted disgust of third graders at the lunch table. Doc brings up yesterday’s Twitter story of Scar getting his off-road wheelchair stuck in a field. Skizz has not seen this story, but Joe says they should get Scar a riding lawnmower.
20:20 Skizz shows off the shutter shades he got from Mission Possible. Doc is skeptical, but Joe is all about the green glasses, for obvious reasons. He calls Skizz a percussionist, but Skizz says he is only a drummer. Scar asks what the difference is, and Skizz explains that percussionists should be able to play marimba, xylophone, bells, and similar instruments while drummers don’t. Scar chimes in “So it’s all about banging stuff!” with the sort of glee that suggests he knows exactly what he is saying. Skizz happily affirms that it is, indeed, all about the banging and says that’s right up Scar’s alley. Joe, who is also streaming, giggles nervously and Doc mutters a “Jesus Christ” that may or may not be prayerful. Joe says that this is why he doesn’t want VODs of his streams.
22:00 Skizz shows off a bit of his dark/snow/drowning/lava maze and declares with certainty that nobody could survive it in its current state. Scar says he definitely could and jumps into the snow portion through the side wall. Doc says that Skizz should not be giving people test runs because you don’t get test runs in real life. Scar escapes out the top of the snow portion somehow (he is not onscreen) and greets Cleo, who has just arrived.
23:00 Cleo appears in her MCC Pride skin and gives Skizz a cake for his birthday. Skizz places it and eats several pieces while relating a story about the time Impulse’s son, who was very young at the time, made him a Minecraft cake for his birthday and presented it to him in-server. Skizz, not knowing how to eat a cake, left clicked on it and broke it to bits in front of the child instead of eating it. The assembled Hermits agree that this has probably scarred the kid for life. Doc, who is the parent of a young child, sounds like he is in real physical pain from the story.
24:15 Skizz asks what everyone is up to today. Doc tells him that strange things are happening on the server and questions him suspiciously about whether he stole one block of diamond ore from one of Doc’s machines. Skizz claims innocence, as do Scar and Joe, though Joe confesses he thought about replacing all the diamond ore with lapis ore and claiming that if you leave diamond ore exposed to the elements, it will rot. He asks if someone swapped them with lapis and Doc says no, just deepslate. Joe, clearly extremely disappointed, says “Oh. That’s not funny. Lapis is way funnier.” Doc agrees and says he knows it wasn’t Joe because Joe would’ve done something much more bizarre. Skizz compliments Joe about how he really has his moments and Cleo, with the incredibly longsuffering air of a survivor of most of Joe’s “moments,” agrees.
25:30 Doc mentions that a pig died because of the diamond theft, which really gets Cleo’s attention. She accuses Doc of using the passive voice to soften the fact that he killed her special pig. Doc and Joe and Cleo are all discussing this loudly but we cannot hear much of it because Skizz breaks away briefly to address chat. Donos are still rolling in at a fast pace and Skizz promises that he’s going to go back and catch all of them in just a couple of minutes. Doc, who is clearly stream sniping, thanks one of Skizz’s donors for a large gift sub while Cleo attacks him with a sword. Doc admits to killing her pig but claims he was in emotional distress because someone broke his redstone. Cleo reiterates that this pig was special because it was the one she sent to hell and it survived. Doc contends that the pig had no name and was just randomly sitting there, like many pigs he has killed over the years. Joe interrupts to say that if a pig went to hell he thinks it probably would’ve gotten a name because even the most minor characters in Dante’s Inferno seem to have names somehow. Cleo is ignoring him and spelling out exactly where the pig was (in a boat? At a dock?) but she is sitting low in the mix on Skizz’s audio and it’s hard to hear exactly what she’s saying. She is very emphatic about it though.
26:30 Skizz tries to pull together the threads of the narrative with limited success as Doc reiterates his claim of emotional distress leading to pig slaughter. Cleo asks Skizz to be her lawyer. Skizz is enthusiastic about the idea, as Scar suggests they need Bdubs for “short claims court.” Doc tries to explain that Cleo was dismissive of the emotional pain Doc felt when someone touched his redstone, and so he killed the pig so she would understand what it felt like to lose someone. (In the background, Cleo points out that the redstone wasn’t even broken, because the block that was replaced was being used as a building block and was not essential to machine function.)
27:10 Skizz asks Doc about his state of mind during the slaughter and Doc, suddenly realizing that he is talking to opposing counsel, decides it is time to clam up and demand a lawyer. Cleo mocks him for making a full and open confession in front of witnesses before demanding a lawyer, while Skizz makes a motion in limine to a nonexistent judge to have the defendant declared mentally unstable. Doc says he has watched many videos on YouTube and knows he is entitled to an attorney. (It’s hard to say if this is true since there is no indication of whether a criminal or civil proceeding is being contemplated, or indeed whether any of the hermits involved understand the difference.) Doc accuses Skizz of walking like a lawyer, and Joe offers the advice that if someone tells you they are the opposition’s lawyer that means they are not your lawyer and you should stop talking to them. Doc displays a very confused understanding of his Miranda rights and the other Hermits continue to mock him for claiming them after the confession and not before. Doc claims to be appalled that all of this criminal behavior is being discussed on Skizz’s birthday stream, then declares himself to be “The Teflon GOAT.”
28:30 Skizz reiterates his willingness to be a lawyer in the case, and Cleo reiterates the fact that they have hired Skizz and Doc cannot have him. Doc retaliates by saying he will hire Joe and then they can talk to a sock puppet in court. Joe accepts the job but insists on being paid in sand. Doc agrees. Skizz laughs evilly with Cleo and says they will have the Doc/Joe team for lunch. Joe responds by saying it’s too bad Skizz already filled up on CAKE. Cleo claims she has witnesses, and Doc claims that Ren cannot be compelled to testify due to spousal privilege. (Apparently Ren is now Doc’s husband.) Scar says he didn’t know Doc got married and says that’s nice. Skizz tells Cleo they need to confer and stop talking outside of court, then tells the others that there will be no more questions or interrogations until they meet in open court. Cleo tries to say something and Skizz shushes them, being a man of either extreme bravery or extraordinary foolishness. Cleo doesn’t stop talking and Skizz goes full Muppet-style trying to shut her up, which works in the sense that it makes her laugh. Skizz assures her that this is the kind of lawyer he intends on being, and Cleo laughs until she starts coughing and has to mute. Doc laments the fact that he is stuck with the public defender, with Joe immediately punning about Pupplet Defender. Doc tells Joe that if Joe were a lawyer he would absolutely be a public defender because Joe is weird and would love to do it. Joe does not know how to take that. Cleo suggests that it not a compliment, though Doc insists it is.
30:45 Skizz makes a movie reference to Liar, Liar and then tells everyone that he’s had fun but he really, really needs to talk to his chat and catch up on his donos. Scar says that Skizz hates collaboration and walks disconsolately out of the pyramid to begin slapping a salmon head sitting on a jukebox. Skizz joins him and they invite Doc to join in as well. (Technically this consists of Skizz screaming “GET OVER HERE AND SLAP IT!”) Doc demurs, citing lingering trauma from salmon-related food poisoning. Skizz says this is all he wants for his birthday, but Doc insists he cannot. Skizz says if Doc loves him, he will slap the fish. Doc approaches, but begins making gagging noises and backs away again. The salmon-slapping noises are quite loud. Cleo suggests that the best way to have a private meeting with no Doc eavesdropping is to make this noise. Doc says he would rather bathe in a tub of poisonous spiders than slap the fish. He flies away.
32:40 Skizz turns to Scar and tells him that all he wants for his birthday is a death message in chat saying that Scar killed Doc. Scar immediately flies away. Joe and Cleo express great appreciation for Skizz’s plan, with Cleo claiming that all she ever wanted was for Doc to die horribly. Doc logs out at the exact right time for it to be clear that he was stream sniping and has finally caught up to stream delay. Everyone is disappointed. Cleo starts to talk to Skizz about killing Doc, then realizes they shouldn’t talk to their lawyer about extrajudicial murder. Skizz assures her they have attorney client privilege, but Joe correctly realizes that his presence could destroy the presumption of privilege and heads out. He gives Skizz a number of Joe Hills specialty fireworks for his birthday, insists that they are flight duration 3, and then flies away using one with predictably painful results. Skizz attempts the same thing and Cleo cheers that he farts rainbows. Cleo leaves.
34:45 Skizz returns to the pyramid and begins to address chat, only to be interrupted by Scar singing “check your mail, check your mail, check your mail.” Skizz promises that he will, then spends several minutes catching up with donos. He receives the link for Rusty_Courage and Persefida’s GIGGS Phasmo collab animation and assures a viewer that nobody ever needs to apologize for not being able to sub or donate.
39:38 Skizz goes to check his mail, accidentally using another one of Joe’s fireworks to fly. He receives a Ruber Sea Pickle, presumably from Tango, which is specifically labeled as a gift so he will have to put it up on the wall in his base. Cleo falls from a high place but says they are fine. Scar, also clearly stream sniping, drops off a gift of item frames when Skizz can’t find any.
43:00 Skizz leaves the maibox and sleeps, waking to find Scar haunting his mailbox to indicate that he has additional mail. Skizz finds mail from Scar, a coupon for the sand and gravel store along with a jukebox and a disc that plays the advertisement Scar made for his Star Wars themed shop. Skizz is clearly charmed and impressed. He wants Scar to teach him how to do that.
45:15 Skizz stops by Bop ‘n Go to repair his elytra, then heads for the sand and gravel shop. He leaves while the Bop song is still playing, disappointing his chat. Although the Death Scar initially appears to be its normal self, closer inspection reveals that it has been turned into a giant emoji sphere (thanks to Jevin.) Skizz, not fully understanding the cache function of the Bobby mod, is very confused. He visits the gravel shop, admires it, kills the inevitable mobs that spawn in any Scar build, and buys some gravel. Scar tells him in chat that the price for gravel is 12 diamonds per shulker rather than the posted 20. Skizz uses his coupon to buy a box of gravel.
52:30 Skizz leaves the gravel shop for the sand shop and catches up with donos again. A donor asks how he juggles streaming and a full time job. He suggests “A lot of cocaine,” then immediately insists multiple times that he is joking. He says it is very difficult and not necessarily very healthy, but suggests that as long as a streamer has a thick skin and an understanding that it’s very hard work, and that they listen to their body, they can get by. Another donor asks why he calls Tango ‘Top.’ Skizz says it’s from Rocket League, but that he also thinks very highly of Tango, so Top is an appropriate name.
55:00 Skizz actually enters the sand shop. Scar tells him via chat that shulkers of sand are 15 diamonds, and Skizz buys one. Chat complains that they cannot see in-game chat because of Twitch chat overlay. Skizz moves the chat box around on the screen to solicit chat opinions on the best place and size for it. Chat has a hard time achieving consensus. Skizz puts it back in the same place but slightly smaller.
58:30 Skizz addresses a viewer asking how to grow his drumming channel. He says you must be at peace with the fact that there is no magic formula. Collaborate as much as possible with other YouTubers in similar genres.
59:30 Return to the pyramid, inventory organization time. More dono shout-outs, and Skizz spends approximately 90 seconds walking aimlessly up and down his stairs.
1:02:30 Skizz fails to find ink in his chest monster. He sees that Tango has signed on and goes to visit the factory. Cleo raids into the stream. Not finding Tango, Skizz returns to the pyramid, gets chased by Tango, chases Tango, and engages in a sky battle that ends in an inglorious crash landing at the factory. Tango plays a custom music disc of Happy Birthday to the tune of the Hallelujah Chorus while slapping Skizz on the beat. Scar drops by and attempts to HotGuy Tango, but does not achieve Velocitay. Tango calls him a tryhard.
1:06:00 Scar and Skizz begin rummaging through Tango’s storage system. Tango only objects when Scar gets into the redstone guts of the factory and begins singing in a suspiciously innocent fashion. Tango shows off his piglin extermination system, complete with pressure-plate activated scream.
1:08:50 Scar remembers something he wanted to talk to Tango about, then remembers he either doesn’t want to talk in front of Skizz or in front of several thousand chatters. Skizz plays dejected and says he will leave. He flies away, then returns and successfully HotGuys Scar. Scar, who does not have a bed, is dumped off at Spawn. Skizz and Tango collect the bits and gloat over the kill. Skizz gathers up Scar’s elytra and rockets and goes to find Scar, only to realize he is not sure where Spawn is. Scar gets killed by a Vindicator at spawn.
1:11:10 Skizz finds Scar and returns the elytra while Scar claims that his failed Hotguy was more impressive because it was a blind shot over the rafters and into the factory. Tango arrives as well, wearing Scar’s hat. Scar calls him a Rancher. Tango agrees. Scar trolls Skizz over Mission Possible (Impossible) (Kimpossible), then shouts that he still needs to talk to Tango about record players while flying off. His departure angle is a bit low, causing him to slam nonfatally into the side of a hill. He corrects himself and flies away while Tango and Skizz laugh and make George of the Jungle jokes.
1:13:00 Skizz claims that he needs to go to work, Tango says that he shouldn’t really have to because it is his birthday you-yo. Tango says he went to the gym that morning, but admits it was just a preliminary meeting. He and and Skizz start talking about hockey, til Scar reappears and demands his arrows and ender chest. Scar asks Tango a technical question about custom heads as music players and Skizz flies back to the pyramid.
1:15:30. Back to work… except Skizz needs food and rockets. Skizz flies back to the shopping district while catching up on donos. He admires Joel’s new honey shop, then heads for the rocket shop and gets Hotguyed by Scar, who then logs out. Skizz collects Breadstick to return to the shopping district while lamenting the bad etiquette of not returning someone’s wingies to them after Hotguying them.
1:19:45 Skizz arrives back at the shopping district and collects his bits. Tango had been looking for them as well, but was misled by Skizz’s claim that he was “at the rocket shop” and had looked at Cuboom instead of the flight rocket shop. Skizz jokingly regrets being so polite about returning Scar’s elytra. He says Scar is “in barney” and vows revenge.
1:21:00 Tango makes fun of Skizz for still riding a horse, and Skizz decides it’s time to buy an elytra. They don’t know where they elytra shop is, but chat points the way. Tango steals the elytra from the barrel before Skizz can buy one, Skizz retaliates with vociferous movie quotation. Tango suggests that maybe there should be police on the server to keep order. Skizz buys an elytra and some golden carrots. He is running out of money. Tango mocks him for not selling more wood. Skizz says he has lowered the price of mangrove to 8, but people have stopped buying. Tango and Skizz both have a lot of permits unshopped. They realize they each have a wool permit they can use at the wool shop and Skizz rides home to get it.
1:27:15 Breadstick is returned safely to the corral. Skizz puts his new spare elytra in his shulker box and finds his permit for green wool. Tango has light blue. Neither of them understand the Wolves of Wool Street concept, but they assume they can put their permits on the wall of the shop and collect their profits. They return to the shopping district.
1:28:55 Skizz finds Wool Street and puts up his permit. He has already accumulated four blocks of diamonds in profit from the shop. Skizz and Tango open every trap door in the Terracotta shop facade. Skizz suggests that instead of just opening all the doors, they place many more trapdoors around the facade. They admire the cuteness of the Fresh Animations dogs.
1:33:00 Skizz lays out his plan for trapdoors, insisting that he wants to go juuuuust to the edge of not funny and stopping before that. Skizz cannot differentiate between spruce and dark oak, but Tango and the chat help. They go to the wood shop and decide to make a chat group, but both of them create and neither of them join. Tango eventually joins Skizz’s group after some frantic moon landing. Skizz experiences a serious and fundamental misunderstanding about the prices of logs in Doc’s shop, insisting briefly that a shulker of logs is three sand rather than three shulkers of sand. Tango is longsuffering.
1:37:00 Skizz resorts to using cherry wood from his own backstock, but is embarrassed when he can only make 33 trapdoors and they are all pink. Tango offers for a second time to go get wood. Skizz reluctantly agrees, then gets lost in the nether trying to follow Tango home. He shows off his own portal, then returns to the shopping district.
1:40:00 Decoration of the Terracotta Shop begins. Tango expresses sudden reservations and Skizz mocks him for having cold feet. They place a dozen trapdoors, mostly randomly.
1:41:05 A creeper blows up directly behind Skizz, narrowly missing taking out the entire Terracotta Shop. It makes a sizeable creeper hole just in front of the shop. Skizz says he’s starting to feel bad. Tango asks if he needs a hug. Skizz clarifies that he feels bad about what they’re doing. Tango says he feels bad, but not bad enough to stop. He is worried that it’s not funny enough. Skizz places a single froglight in the bottom of the creeper hole. He sees what Tango has done while he was in the hole (place another 15-20 trapdoors) declares that it is terrible and that he’s going to tell Bdubs what Tango did. Tango tears down what he made, while Skizz begins placing more trapdoors. The trapdoor situation is entirely random at this point.
1:43:15 Skizz exclaims that he knows what to do and flees the scene, cackling. He returns after a minute, and he and Tango try to figure out which trapdoors they actually placed. Chat reminds Tango (Skizz is not reading chat) that there are trapdoors on the floor. He begins picking them up while Skizz places down additional trapdoors. Tango slaps him right through the front door and out of the shop, then finishes picking up the doors. They leave the shop only minimally pranked.
1:46:00 Skizz and Tango leave through the wool shop. Skizz relays a question from chat about why Tango is not streaming today. Tango pauses for a moment, declares “Explosive diarrhea,” and immediately flies away. He is still in the group, however, and admits he actually should be working on a video but was distracted by birthday shenanigans. He leaves the group and Skizz returns once more to the pyramid. He catches up on donos again.
1:48:30 Back at the pyramid, time to work! Skizz notices the froglights that Joe used for climbing inside the pyramid earlier and thinks they are an obscure prank. He declares no pranking in the pyramid, and earns a cheevo by taking them down.
1:50:25 Time for the Bop Song… or for slapping a fish. Skizz slaps the fish, then looks at some fanart by JustHydra. He talks about an exciting dragon fight on the Skizzlecraft server. He reads a birthday poem from a fan and tears up a little. He decides it’s time for a Ted Lasso rewatch soon and catches up on donos.
1:58:14 Actually time for Bop Song. Skizz kills squid in the river to get dye, then uses his new sand and gravel to make black concrete. He talks about Cobra Kai and catches up on chat and donos.
2:06:30 Skizz begins placing black concrete around the lava portion of the maze.
2:09:20 Skizz forgets he is in freecam and has a brief out-of-body experience.
2:14:00 Catching up with chat. Skizz talks about how he is unqualified to talk about social anxiety issues at pride events, but suggests that chatter should go along with somebody who they are very comfortable with to provide support if the crowds get to be too much.
2:16:15 Another freecam jumpscare, right into the lava pit. Chat suggests a poll on how long before Skizz dies to his own maze again.
2:20:30 Skizz backs up into lava. He catches fire but does not die.
2:22:00 Poll suggests 77% of chat believes Skizz will die in his own lava.
2:23:00 Skizz fights a spider in the pyramid, then tries to figure out where it came from and mob-proof it.
2:29:30 Skizz decides to put black banners on the wall of the maze and leaves to go buy banners. He gets outside the pyramid before chat reminds him that he is the holder of the banner permit. He goes into his base and looks at the banner permit, then does a classic facepalm. He makes a loom but must sleep and kill more squid before he can make any banners.
2:36:00 Having decided that the best way to proceed is black banners with red downward-pointing arrows, Skizz pauses the game to look up how to make them. He “borrows” some poppies from Gem for dye and kills more squid.
2:40:10 Skizz attempts his first banner. He forgets how to do it. After some trial and error, he gets the colors he wants and begins working on patterns.
2:45:40 Skizz runs out of black ink, goes to kill more squid. He catches up with chat and advises a chatter to introduce a new person to gaming by first understanding what sort of person you are working with and what sort of learning process they vibe with.
2:49:00 First banner is completed. The banner copying function makes the second banner considerably faster.
2:52:00 Banners are placed in the maze, declared “not great, but not bad.” Skizz catches on fire again but does not die. Test run time is declared.
2:53:30 Skizz turns off the texture pack, strips naked and does a test run of the maze. He’s forgotten to turn off jump boost, invalidating the magma block jump. He drops to a half-heart at the berry bushes but survives to eat. It is time for the Skizzleman Fart Song.
2:59:20 Motion sickness warning as Skizz leaves his cubito bobbing in the top of a water stream while he sends a text message. He leaves the stream to go let his brother in the house.
3:00:50 Skizz returns to wrap up the stream. He was not able to finish the snow maze, so he skips to the lava drop to test that part. He successfully makes the jump and does not die in the lava. Chat experiences mixed feelings. Skizz realizes that he cannot get out of the hole at the bottom of the lava and will eventually have to starve to death, but that is a problem for Future (Hungry) Skizz. Skizz raids into Ginger_Crush and signs off.
#hermitcraft#skizzleman#stream liveblogging#goodtimeswithscar#docm77#zombiecleo#joe hills#tangotek#tall claims court
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