#dee's fics
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raising hell all over town
pairing: best friend's dad!joel x f!reader
summary: you've been a friend of sarah's since you were old enough to steal bottles of her dad's whiskey for parties. sarah was always the sensible one in your friendship, getting you out of the trouble you usually started. but now sarah has gone off to college, who else but joel could pick up the pieces?
content/warnings: 18+ mdni. alcohol. drugs. age gap. violence/fighting. smut: unprotected p in v, spanking
a/n: inspired by this gif set, and the wonderful @amanitacowboy & @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for introducing me to that yellowstone scene
kind of nervous about this, my first proper smutty fic - i find smut really difficult to write for some reason (weird because i'm feral horny 24/7) so this was kinda out of my comfort zone but i hope you all enjoy!
PSA: i no longer have a taglist! feel free to follow my updates blog @breakfastupdates and turn the post notifs on to be notified when i post a new fic :)
Friday nights in Austin felt incomplete without Sarah by your side.
For years, she had been the epitome of your partner in crime; dragging you back to her place or putting you in a cab before the cops were called.
Had it not been for your fierce loyalty and protectiveness over Sarah, you're sure her dad would've barred you from the house years ago. Sarah was smarter than you in almost every way. Academically, emotionally, you name it.
Joel knew this, and he trusted the two of you together knowing you both balanced the other out. Watching the two of you reminded Joel of a younger version of himself and Tommy, always thankful that Sarah had followed in his footsteps as opposed to her uncle's.
Your relationship with your parents was rocky, to say the least, and the Miller's house had always been a safe haven for you. Joel had patched up your split lip or bloody nose more times than he wanted to admit for a girl your age. He swore he'd kill your old man one day for the states you'd turned up to their house in.
Still, he couldn't help but feel the urge to grab you by the shoulders and shake some sense into you from time to time. As much as his heart broke for you, it was also in your nature to be a damn brat. Joel had endured countless stifling days spent by the pool forcing himself to not let his eyes linger on the curves of your hips. He struggled to look you in the eye when he saw you sat on the kitchen counter waiting to leave for a party, your mini skirt riding dangerously high on your thighs.
There had been times when he had been reckless. Times that he'd had to pull himself away from your invisible grip on him and relieve his tension in the bathroom, fisting his cock onto the shower floor, biting down on the shape of your name on his tongue.
When he'd re-emerge into the living room, he knew that you knew. You'd look through your eyelashes at him and smile. His cheeks flushed, shame setting in at the speed at which he'd cum from the thought of your pussy clenching around his shaft.
He would never let it show, but something would rush through his body when he'd ask Sarah what the hell she do this time? He remembered one time in particular, as Sarah relayed the events of the night that had led to your bloody nose, he'd looked over at you perching on the counter. With blood leaking down your cupid's bow, you'd locked eyes with him and ran your tongue across your lip, revelling in the remnants of your victory.
Still, you had fine enough nights out with the girls from work. They just didn't get you the way Sarah did. They would shoot you judgemental glances from across the bar that lasted until the Monday back at work for whatever you had done this time that they disapproved of.
"They're just dull. You should see the way they look at me for literally just hooking up with guys." You had lamented to Sarah over the phone while you were both getting ready for your respective nights out on separate sides of the country.
"It's probably because they've seen you get through an entire friendship group before your second drink."
"Well, they should be taking notes. Tell me nobody at college is as fun as me." Jealousy tore through your chest at the thought of Sarah spending her time with new friends.
"Nobody here is as fun as you. They're very... reserved." You scoffed at her politeness.
"Babe, just say they're boring."
"I'm giving them a chance. Anyway, gotta go. Text me tomorrow and tell me the damage. Love ya!"
"Don't have too much fun without me. Love you too."
Despite their judging looks, you were always the first person they called upon to finish any mess they had gotten themselves into. Still, you were happy to oblige, even if it meant a few awkward minutes of silence at the coffee machine on Monday.
The group of you had poured out of an Uber into the busy bar around nine o'clock, buzzing with the confidence of your pre-drinks. Rounds of shots were ordered and consumed at a dizzying pace, and soon enough, bags of powder were discreetly distributed across the table.
"Bathroom?" Hannah, one of your closest and least judgmental co-workers nudged you.
"Thought you'd never ask." The two of you sauntered away from the table, hand-in-hand, quickly bundling into a tight cubicle.
The bathroom filled up as the two of you tried to be as silent as possible, scooping your pinky nails into the small bag.
"Hurry the fuck up!" Someone from outside the cubicle called, thudding her fists against the door.
"Get fucked." You called back, muttering this bitch under your breath to Hannah.
As the two of you packed your things back into your handbags, the cubicle door jolted half open, smacking Hannah in the shoulder.
"Are you fucking serious?" You shouted at the small brunette on the other side of the door, checking Hannah over for injury.
"You hit me, you bitch." She straightened herself up, rubbing her shoulder.
"I'll do worse if you don't fucking move." The brunette hissed in her face.
You screwed your face up and shoved her, making her stumble backwards into the sink. The other girls in the bathroom grabbed their bags and scurried to the exit, evidently not wanting to be caught in the crossfire.
"Apologise." You said, moving toward the girl who was now pulling herself up with the help of the basins on either side of her.
"Fuck you." She spat, saliva hitting your cheek before she lunged forward.
Your fist connected with her nose before she even had time to swing, and your right hand secured a tight grip on the back of her hair.
"I said, apologise to my friend."
"I'm sorry." She choked, pathetically. Her face shrivelled in fear and pain.
"Not so fuckin' big now, are you?" Hannah said, which was ironic, considering the girl who had bruised her was now quivering under your fist.
Content with her apology, you released your grip on her and re-entered the bar with Hannah trailing behind you. As you both rejoined your table, you felt a tap on your shoulder.
"Our friend said you just attacked her in the bathroom." Another petite girl looked up at you, one hand on her hip.
"She hit my friend, here. Was just trying to teach her some manners."
The entirety of your group was now turned to face you, exchanging harsh whispers of your name followed by just leave it.
"You broke her nose!" The girl shrilled. You looked over her shoulder to the girl doubled over, clutching her bloody nose with an ensemble of people crowding around her.
"No, I think it just looks like that."
You grinned at the rage growing behind her eyes, your smile unfaltering even as her fist collided with your cheek.
"Harder." You shouted, rolling your neck from side to side.
"What?!"
"Come on, hit me harder. I know you got it in you." She didn't take much convincing; her next punch knocked you backwards onto the table as everyone rushed to tear the two of you apart.
You stepped forward to finally let her have it when a pair of strong hands pulled you back.
"Get off!" You shouted, kicking against who you assumed to be security throwing you out. You just hoped they weren't calling the cops, too.
"C'mon, doll. You've had enough fun for one night." A familiar Southern drawl cooed, dragging you out into the warm night. "Now, that wasn't very ladylike of you, darlin'."
He let you go from his grip and you turned to face him. To your surprise, you were met with the smirk of the younger Miller brother.
"Tommy." You breathed, "I didn't see you in there."
"Well, lucky I noticed you ain't it." He grinned.
Spending so much time at the Miller's had you well acquainted with Sarah's uncle Tommy. He'd seen you in much worse states than this, and in turn, so had you.
"Didn't need you to swoop in and save me, Tommy."
"Wasn't saving you, sweetheart. Was savin' that poor girl." You both smiled at the tone of pride in his voice.
"You got somewhere to go, trouble? Don't think you should be hangin' round here for too long."
"Can't exactly go home bleeding from my face." You sighed, realising you probably hadn't thought this through. You missed Sarah.
Tommy fished around in his pocket for his phone before raising it to his ear.
"Hey, big brother." Your stomach flipped. "No, no- it's not me. Joel, listen." You could almost hear Joel on the other end of the phone, witnessing it in person more times than you could count. It's not even ten o'clock yet, don't tell me you're locked up already.
"Our favourite little troublemaker needs a place to crash tonight. I'd drive her over but I've already had my fair share of beers. Okay, great. I'll tell her."
Once he'd hung up, Tommy told you that Joel was on his way to come and pick you up. You could feel your heartbeat in your stomach. You'd never been alone with Joel for longer than a couple of hours at most, let alone spending the night at his while Sarah was out of town. Something inside of you twitched in excitement, a warm rush settling deep in your belly.
You told Tommy to go back into the bar, that Joel wouldn't be long and you'd walk down the street to meet him in case those girls came out looking for another round.
As you made your way underneath the streetlights toward the direction of the Miller's house, you pulled your compact from your bag and touched up your make-up, re-curling your lashes and dousing a thick layer of clear lipgloss onto your lips, not bothering to tend to any of the blood trickling down your skin. You spritzed yourself with perfume and ran a brush through your hair, smiling at the thought of Joel seeing you waiting on the curbside for him.
Right on cue, his truck pulled around the corner. You raised your hand and wiggled your fingers, a small smirk spreading across your cheeks.
You were grateful for your earlier decision to wear your knee-high boots with a denim mini-skirt, adding a little extra sway to your hips as you made your way to the passenger side of Joel's truck. You climbed in and turned to face him, flashing him a toothy grin, well aware of the blood staining your teeth.
"You're a damn mess, princess." Something deep inside of you came to life at his words, causing you to visibly clench your exposed thighs together. "S'there I was, thinking to myself how thankful I am for a peaceful night after workin' lates all week. When my phone rings, just as I'd sat down and made myself comfortable."
"Peace is overrated." You replied.
"So, what did you do this time? Steal another cop car? Break into a hotel pool? Make out with someone's husband?"
You played with the hem of your skirt as he spoke, blushing as he listed a few of your past activities he'd either bailed you out of or heard about from Sarah.
"I didn't start this one." You said, a slight whine in your voice. "Someone hit my friend, I was just looking out for her."
"Your friend can't fight her own battles?"
"You never have a problem when it's Sarah I'm throwing punches for."
He scoffed. "Now, you know I've always taught her to never start a fight but always to finish one. You on the other hand, I don't think nobody's taught you anythin' of the sort."
"And are you gonna be the one to do that, Mr Miller?" You mimicked his Texan accent, which was much thicker than yours, and parted your legs in your seat ever so slightly.
"If I didn't know you better, darlin', I'd think you were tryin' to get me in some sort of trouble."
He pulled into the driveway and switched the ignition off before jogging to your side of the truck and holding the door open for you, as well as offering you an outstretched hand.
"Always such a gentleman." You smiled, looking at him through your eyelashes as you stepped out, hand in his.
He exhaled out of his nose, shaking his head softly as he slammed the door shut behind you. His hand moved to the small of your back, guiding you into the house.
"Sarah's bed is all made up, I'm sure you know where her clothes are f'you wanna change into something more... comfortable." His eyes trailed down your figure, your clothes hugging all the right places.
"Do you not like my outfit?" You pouted, holding your hands behind your back and sticking your chest out, swaying from side to side.
"Course not, y'look real pretty. Just thought you'd wanna watch TV before going to sleep is all." Joel brought a hand to the back of his head, rubbing his neck nervously as his eyes shifted to the floor.
For such a handsome man, he was so damn insecure. Maybe it was the gentleman in him, thinking that it was wrong for someone his age to want someone the same age as his daughter. He knew you didn't think like that, Sarah had told him multiple stories about the older men you'd hooked with at the bar.
He'd even caught you making out with a kid from your school's dad a few years ago when he'd come to pick you and Sarah up from a party. Joel had seemingly known the man, and you remembered how he'd stalked out of his truck and toward you both, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and warning him that his wife wasn't going to like hearing about this.
So, you kicked off your boots and took yourself upstairs into Sarah's bedroom. Not bothering to close the blinds, you peeled your clothes off and looked at yourself in the full length mirror.
The warmth of your earlier drinks still coated your inhibitions. You knew you looked good in your black lace set, breasts sat perkily on your chest and your ass cheeks the perfect handfuls.
Fuck it. If he wasn't going to be ballsy enough to make the first move, maybe you should.
You kissed the tips of your fingers and pressed them against a framed photo of you and Sarah giggling at whatever was going on behind the camera.
"Sorry, Sarah." You whispered, before making your way down the stairs.
Joel heard you coming but was too preoccupied fighting with the TV remote control to turn around and face you just yet.
"If I can get this damn thing to work I think they're showin' Scarface at ten, I know you said you ain't seen it so thought we could watch it."
"Sounds good," you spoke, your voice more honeyed than usual. "Hey, Joel. Do you think this will be comfy enough?"
He whipped his head around quickly, ready to give you the same kind of answer he did whenever Sarah asked for his opinion in a changing room. It took a second for him to register what he was looking at, but when it clicked he dropped the remote to the floor and turned his whole body to face you.
"What the hell," his face turned bright red, unsure what to do with his hands. You could give him a few ideas.
"You not like it?" You asked, voice low as you walked slowly in his direction.
His trousers began to tighten around his hardening cock and you smiled, glad that you were indeed on the same page.
"Course I- I, what the hell are you playin' at?"
"Come on, Joel. I gotta make up for interrupting your peaceful night somehow."
You closed the gap between you both and placed a hand delicately on his chest, tracing circles with the tip of your long, manicured nails.
Joel swallowed hard.
"This ain't right." He said weakly, his eyes betraying his words as they devoured the sight of your body before him.
"Cut the shit, Joel. I know you want me, and I want you."
He didn't answer, but instead threw you over his shoulder and carried you up to his bedroom, placing a couple of firm smacks on your ass as you wriggle against his strong grip. Your stomach did backflips, exhilarated at the prospect of what was about to happen.
Upon entering his room, he threw you roughly onto the bed and worked at undoing his belt as you scrambled onto your back, resting on your elbows.
"Y'know what I really thought when Tommy called, tellin' me I needed to come pick you up?" He said, although it didn't sound much like a question. "I thought, this dumb slut needs some sense fucking into her."
You moaned at his words, basking in the side of him that you knew always existed.
“Thought t’myself, she needs teachin’ some fuckin' manners f’once.”
Joel stalked around the side of the bed and sat and patted his lap. Wordlessly, you shifted your weight next to him and dangled your legs over the side of the bed.
He brought his right hand in between your thighs, making you shiver at the feeling of his coarse fingers grazing your skin. He ran his fingers up and down the length of your thigh, each time stopping short of the hem of your skirt.
"This is what you want, ain't it sweetheart?" He spoke lowly, voice gravelly and as rough as his touch. Each night spent tangled and alone in your sheets, fingers grazing your soaked folds with his name on your lips felt redundant. Nothing could come close to the feel of his skin on yours.
Pulling you from your trance, he slapped your inner thigh hard when you didn't respond. "Need t'hear you say it."
"Yes,' you moan through gritted teeth, surprised you can even find your voice. "This is what I need."
Sick of his incessant teasing, you clamber onto his lap and hook your fingers around the back of his neck.
"But I think you need this just as much, Mr Miller. You must get so lonely in this house all by yourself. Sarah always tells me how you never have any lady friends hanging around."
You straddle his lap and grip his neck for support, softly grinding yourself on the hardness of his lap. He moves a hand from your waist to roughly seize your chin, tipping your face down to meet his gaze.
"Your old man must've forgot to teach you some manners, little girl." His low voice tore through your body.
Joel hoists your skirt up to your waist and flips you underneath him in one swift motion. His body looms over yours, fingers trailing a rough and jagged line down to where you need him most. He moved at an antagonising slow pace, but you can't bring yourself to give into his little game by begging for more.
"Here's what we're gonna do, darlin'. You're gonna be a good girl f'me and tell daddy exactly what happened tonight." The mouth on him.
The way your body writhed and squirmed at his words didn't go unnoticed. With no warning, he plunged two thick digits inside of you and held them deep in place, his face inches away from yours.
"N'if you stutter, or lie, or say anythin' I don't like for that matter, you'll be over my knee, red-raw," his fingers curl inside of you and you bite back a moan, desperate to not let him have the upper hand.
"No matter how much you cry those pretty little eyes out, I won't quit 'til you've learnt somethin'. Understood?"
You suck a breath in through your nose, a sharp sting reminding you of the open wound still decorating your face.
"Yes, sir."
part 2 coming soon
taglist: @cool-iguana @nostalxgic @chaotic-mystery @beardedjoel
#my fic#the last of us#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x reader#tlou fanfiction#joel tlou#joel miller x female reader#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal fanfic#dee rambles#pedrohub#joel miller fanfic#joel miller#joel x reader#no use of y/n#the last of us hbo#the last of us fanfiction#tlou hbo#tlou#joel miller smut#the last of us series#tlou series#dee writes
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Art for @vincentbeloved1217 ‘s fanfic!!
time taken: 1hr 32mins
(links for fics!) vv
- Wattpad!
- AO3!
#dsaf#dayshift at freddy's#dsaf fanfic#fic fanart#dave miller#jack kennedy#dee kennedy#peter kennedy#davesport#my art#this was fun to draw!#hehe x3
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Stop scrolling to save sites like ao3 and tumblr
Sign petitions stopping this bill, KOSA would allow the right to sue and take down websites like ao3 and tumblr for having queer content and being a safe space for queer people
#autism#fuck proshitters#hazbin hotel#metal family#helluva boss#dee metal family#fic ideas#hazbin angel dust#ramblings#metal family dee#I’m tagging everything I got#queer fiction#queer safe space#ao3#KOSA#please#why do they hate us#important#PSA#ao3 is down#ao3 fanfic#tumblr#hellsite (affectionate)#hellsite#stop kosa
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i think my favourite tidbit ive written so far for cam cafe au is the Hal's Real Name debacle, bc in it hal is a name he got for himself when he first watched 2001 space odyssey at 13. jake first catches a wind of it when dave calls hal "dee", but hals like nah im not telling you it requires lvl 69 friendship and youre at best on lvl 3 so get fucked noob. everyone at the cafe and all jake and hals friends know but everyone decides to fuck with jake and not tell him. its a constant subplot through the story until its finally revealed at the end and i can tell you, yall aint ready for what the name is
#cam cafe au#hal strider#jake english#when the idea first came to my mind i fr laughed out loud#basically dave fucks up: the subplot#im not telling tho i wanna write that fic so yall have to wait#also lil sweet detail i wrote out its that only dave has the privilege to call hal his name#so dave uses a shortened “dee” for him#idunno it just makes me warm inside he loves his big bro
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Pretty Boy | JMK
Author’s Note: Inspired by a post by @viagvf about Josh being tied up and blindfolded. Needless to say, I had to write something about it because nothing gets me like a subby Josh. This is completely self indulgent but I hope you guys enjoy it anyway. Sorry for any mistakes/typos.
Summary: You and Josh decide to switch things up in the bedroom, Josh lettting you take control instead of him. You don’t let the opportunity go to waste.
Content Warnings: Edging, orgasm denial, overstimulation, oral (m. receiving) hand jobs (m. receiving), bound hands, use of blindfolds, p in v sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, swearing (I think that’s it but let me know if I missed anything.)
Word Count: 3593
Preview:
“Have I ever told you how much I love your cock?”
“A few times.” He says, choking back a whine as you tease him – so close to where he wants you to be, yet still so far.
“I should tell you more often. You’re so fucking pretty.” His cock twitches and you pause, a wicked grin spreading across your face. You look up at him and you can see that he’s blushing beneath his blindfold.
“Do you like that, Josh? Do you like being called pretty?”
“Yes." He says quietly. "I do.”
------------------------------------
When Josh had first suggested the idea, your interest had immediately peaked. Sex with Josh is heavenly already. He knows exactly how to get you going – turning you into a whining, begging mess with ease. Most of the time, it’s pretty intense like that. Josh loves to tease and make you completely fall apart with his fingers and tongue. Other times, it's slow and soft – Josh making sure to take the time to pamper you and treat you with the utmost care and concern. Every thrust deliberate, reaching places inside of you that no other man ever could. And other than the occasional rougher, post-argument sex, the two of you rarely mixed things up. Josh was a giving lover, and your pleasure was always to the maximum, so you’d never really felt the need to. Sure, sometimes the thought of being the one to dominate him crossed your mind, but he had never really expressed a desire for it so you left it be. You were more than content with the way things were and felt no real need to change anything. But then Josh had asked the question.
The two of you were lying in bed, legs intertwined and Josh’s arm behind your head.
“Y/n?” He asked, voice almost a complete whisper.
“Ya?”
“Would you ever want to…” He trailed off, his cheeks becoming so red you could see it even in the darkness of the room. His silence stretched on and you turned to face him.
“Would I ever want to what?”
He turned over to look at you, eyes shining in the darkness. He looked so unsure of himself that it was making you begin to worry something was really wrong.
“I know that, usually, in bed I’m the one that takes the lead…” He said slowly, as if he was carefully planning out each word before he said it aloud.
“Yeah, usually.” You said, trying to keep your voice neutral so as not to scare him.
“Would you ever want to, maybe…you know.” His eyes were still filled with doubt, hoping that you would catch on before he had to ask it outright.
“Switch it up, you mean?”
He nodded.
“Josh, I’m up for anything if it’s something that you want to try.”
“Are you sure? We don’t have to if you don’t want-”
You silenced him with a sweet kiss, cupping your hands around his face.
“Josh, I want to.” You gave him a sly smile. “I’ve thought about it before actually.” You said, voice pitched lower than before. His eyes widened.
“Really?”
“Yep.” You said, popping the ‘p.’ “Several times, actually. What about you? Have you ever imagined it before now?”
You heard him swallow and you watched as his throat bobbed.
“Yes,” He finally uttered, “I have.”
You sat up, leaning on one arm to get a better look at him. He was looking up at you with those soft brown eyes of his. You knew that they were going to be the death of you one day.
“Tell me. What have you imagined?”
“I imagine… “ He trails off, unsure of himself again. You smile at him and nod your head for him to continue. “I imagine you tying me up.” You give him a cheshire grin. “I imagine you blindfolding me so I can’t see.”
A heavy breath falls from your lips, your panties beginning to dampen as you picture the scene he’s describing.
“Yeah? I bet you’d look gorgeous all tied up like that.” You lick your lips and Josh smiles, emboldened by your reaction to his words. “And what then, Josh? What happens next?”
“You tease me,” He says, and you can feel his cock beginning to harden against your thigh where two of you are pressed together. “You don’t touch me where I need you to. You make me beg for it.”
You sit up fully and throw your leg over his thighs, settling in to straddle his waist. You slide your hands up his bare chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips.
“I think we can make your imagination become a little more real, Joshy.” You whisper as you lean forward to ghost your lips above his. “Would you like that?”
“Yes.” He breathes out, voice shaky with excitement.
You lean down and connect your lips with his, plunging your tongue into his mouth. He rests his hands on your thighs, squeezing them as you explore his mouth. He’s warm and pliant underneath you, and the feeling makes your pussy throb with need. But that will have to wait.
“Stay here.” You whisper. You rise from him and pad softly across the room to your closet. You pull two silk scarves from the back where you keep your winter clothes and bring them over and place them on the bed at Josh’s feet. His eyes track your movements, his pupils blown wide. You can see his chest heaving as he watches and he slips his hand underneath the covers and groans as he palms his cock.
“No touching, Josh.” You say loudly, and the sentence sounds deafening in the silence of the room.
“Yes ma’am.”
“Good boy.” You say giving him a cheeky grin. He’s staring at you – eyes wide with lust. They look almost black in the dimness of the room and there’s a thin layer of sweat already adorning his smooth chest. He’s looking at you like you’re the only thing in the universe, and he looks absolutely divine.
“Sit up against the headboard.”
He complies, sitting up and kicking the covers off so that they pool at his feet. He leans back.
“Do you want a pillow behind you? The metal probably isn’t very comfortable.”
“Nah,” he says, giving you a grin. “I’m good.”
“Suit yourself.”
You grab the two scarves and climb back on top of him. His cock is tenting his boxers and a wet spot darkens the gray material.
“We need a word for if it gets to be too much.” You say, grabbing his wrists and bringing them up above his head. You secure them together with one of the scarves. You make sure it’s tight and loop it through the headboard. You watch as the muscles in his arms flex and ripple, adjusting to the new position.
“Like a safeword?” He giggles like a teenage boy would and you shake your head at him.
“Yeah, sure. A safeword.”
“My safe word is “keep going,” babe.”
You squint your eyes at him, noting the mischievous glint he has in his eye – the one he always gets when he thinks he’s said something particularly funny.
“Ha ha.” You deadpan. “Seriously though. I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.” You say honestly, dropping the sexy act for a second.
“You’re not going to make me uncomfortable, y/n. I trust you.” You stare at him a moment and you see the honesty in his eyes. He does trust you – with everything he has.
“Still. It would make me feel a little better.”
“Just ask for a color. Green is good. Red is bad. Orange means slow down but don’t stop. How’s that?”
“Perfect.” You lean down and capture his lips in another kiss, this time nibbling at his bottom lip. He sighs softly and you pull away, moving instead to nip at his earlobe. You pinch the sensitive skin between your teeth for a moment – knowing it always drives him crazy.
“Hate not being able to touch you.” He says between heavy breaths.
“It’s not about me, Josh. This is about you.” You say, kissing down his neck before stopping at his nipples. You lick and bite them and he throws his head back and groans. You smile at his reaction.
“Gonna cover your eyes now, okay?”
“Yeah. Okay.”
His eyes track your movements as you grab the second scarf, folding it in half. You place the soft material over his eyes and tie it securely behind his head.
“Color?”
“Green.”
You nod, though you know he can’t see you anymore. You slide down from his waist and push his knees apart. You settle between them and take a moment to drink him in. Arms pulled up above him, sweat glistening on his tan skin, and his pretty cock still standing at attention beneath his underwear; he reminds you of a marble statue – beautiful and smooth to the touch. Worthy to be put on display for thousands of eyes to admire. But he’s yours tonight, and yours alone. And you plan on making the best of it.
“You look so good, Josh. All spread out like this for me.” You say and he whines as you bring your mouth to his inner thigh, pressing wet kisses to the sensitive skin there. You slowly work your way up to the edge of his boxers, nipping and biting as you go. You tuck your fingers into his waistband and pull his boxers down and off him. His cock springs free, slapping his stomach.
“Have I ever told you how much I love your cock?” You say, before continuing your kisses to his inner thigh.
“A few times.” He says, choking back a whine as you tease him – so close to where he wants you to be, yet still so far.
“I should tell you more often. You’re so fucking pretty.” His cock twitches and you pause, a wicked grin spreading across your face. You look up at his face and you can see that he’s blushing beneath the scarf.
“Did you like that, Josh? Do you like being called pretty?”
His chest is heaving and the blush from his face bleeds down his neck as well.
“Yes." He says quietly. "I do.” He sounds embarrassed. You giggle, happy to have discovered something new about him.
You finally brush your fingertips over his cock, stroking the vein that runs up the underside of him. He whines again and thrashes his arms above his head.
“Don’t be embarrassed, baby.” You give his cock a little squeeze. “You are pretty. So. So. So pretty.” With each utterance of “so” you pump his cock, spreading the precum and getting him nice and slick. He bucks his hips, desperate for more. You want to give it to him – the noises he’s making are irresistible, but you pull away.
“Patience.”
You tease him for a while longer, switching between kissing the heated skin of his thighs and biting his nipples – each one drawing breathy little moans and whines from the back of his throat. His chest is flushed and his skin is slick with sweat. His hands are clenched above his head and you can feel the muscles in his thighs twitch as he tries to keep his hips still for you. He’s so eager to please and you think you’re wetter than you ever have been before.
Finally, you bring your mouth where he wants it most – allowing your lips to stretch around the girth of him. He twitches and groans – the sound so pornographic you feel like you could cum yourself just from hearing him.
"Y/n… Oh fuck."
You swallow him down, relaxing your jaw completely, allowing him to nudge the back of your throat. You hollow your cheeks and begin to bob your head, starting a slow but steady rhythm.
Josh bites his bottom lip between his teeth to stifle a groan. You pull off him momenarily and he whines.
“Don’t hold back, sweet boy. I want to hear all those filthy things fall from your pretty mouth.”
You swallow him down again, flattening your tongue to give him a particularly powerful suck.
“Y/n,” He moans loudly, “Jesus, fuck.” You hum and the vibration makes his cock twitch in your mouth.
You sink down on him even further until your nose brushes the hair at the base and you continue to bob your head. Your jaw is aching and your eyes are watering but you don’t stop – the noises he’s making are more than worth the discomfort. He’s making little thrusts with his hips and you can tell he’s getting close. You keep up your rhythm a moment longer before pulling off him with a ‘pop.’ He whines and you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.
“Fuck.” He says, breathing heavily and you giggle.
“Hey, this was your idea.” You remind him sofly.
He huffs out a laugh.
“Just forgot how good you are at that.”
“Well thank you. I try.” You lean forward to give him a kiss. “Gonna start again. Color?”
“Green.”
This time you use your hand – wrapping your fingers around him. The skin is so hot in your hand and he sighs as you start to pump him. You quickly set a brutal pace, your spit and his precum making the perfect lubrication.
“Jesus, mama.” His mouth falls open and he moans loudly at the fast pace. Your forearm burns but you keep it up, bringing him quickly back to the edge. He’s whining – teetering on the edge between pain and pleasure. You keep going a moment longer before pulling your hand away. He gives you an incoherent groan as he realizes you’re still not going to give him the finish that he wants. You do this several more times, aggressively jacking him off to bring him back to the edge before pulling away completely. He thrashes and cries out, yanking on the ties keeping his hands bound and whining each and every time. You’ve never seen him like this, completely and utterly at the mercy of you and drunk on lust and desperation.
Eventually, you rise from your place between his legs and you straddle him again, settling your aching cunt over his hard length.
“Wanna see you now.” You say as you untie the scarf from his eyes and he blinks his beautiful hazel eyes open at you.
“Hey, mama.” He says with a tired grin.
You lean forward and kiss him again. It’s needy and sloppy, his desperation evident in the way he’s practically licking into your mouth.
“I’m going to ride you now, Josh. And you’re going to watch me make myself cum. But you don’t get to yet, understand?”
“Ya.” You raise a brow at him and he flushes – the redness reaching the tips of his ears. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Good.”
Wasting no time, you begin to grind down on his thigh. Thankfully, you usually only sleep in a t-shirt and panties, so you can easily begin to chase your release through the thin fabric. Your clit is swollen and you can feel your racing heartbeat in it as you ride him, throwing your head back as you go. You let out a high pitched moan, doing your best to give him a show. He’s watching you with dark, lust blown eyes and every muscle in his body is taut. He’s gonna be sore tomorrow if he keeps it up.
“Feel how wet I am for you, Josh?” You say as you give him the show of his fucking life. “Seeing you like this, tied up and needy for me…” You cut yourself off with a moan. “It’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. You look so fucking pretty.”
“Y/n, please.” He whines, as your orgasm quickly begins to rise. You can feel the coil in your belly that’s been wound tight all night finally snap and you moan his name loudly. As much as this night is about him, you’re pretty sure that you just had the most powerful orgasm you’ve ever had. It goes on forever, wave upon wave of pleasure crashing through you.
“Y/n.” He says, and the warning is there in his voice. “I’m so close. You’ve got to stop.”
“So desperate you think you could cum without me touching you?” You ask, voice thick. His eyes are wide and begging as he gives you a pathetic nod.
“Please.” He whispers. It’s so quiet you think you might not have even heard anything.
“What, Josh? Speak up.”
“Need it. So bad.”
You cock your head to the side, giving him the most innocent look you can possibly muster.
“Need what?”
“Need to cum.” He whines. “Y/n, please. It hurts I need it so bad.” His voice cracks on the last word and his eyebrows are scrunched together in pain. His eyes are filled with so much need. “I’m begging you. Please.” He whines, all shame and decorum gone from him – his need to cum overriding everything else.
“As you wish.”
You slide your panties off and toss them somewhere into the room before gripping his cock and guiding it through your folds, collecting the wetness that’s gathered there. You sink down onto him slowly, clenching around him as much as you can.
“Oh fuck!” He groans, throwing his head back. He thrashes his bound hands, no doubt wishing he could touch you. You rise from him – so high you’re almost completely off him, before slamming back down again. Your thighs burn with the effort of riding him, but he’s so close you know it’s not going to take long. He’s meeting you in the middle, thrusting his hips up off the bed the best he can, desperate for his release.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m gonna fucking cum!” His eyes slam shut and that’s all the warning you get before you feel him paint your insides with his release. He’s thrashing in the bed and tears leak from the corners of his eyes. The sight of him throws you into your own orgasm, the pleasure slashing through you for the second time. You clench around him – milking him for everything he has.
You pull off him and he keeps his eyes closed, breathing heavily out his nose. You settle between his legs again and lick your mixed releases off his cock and his eyes fly open.
“Fucking shit!” His cock twitches and he moans – the sound a mix of pain and pleasure.
“Color?” You ask, lips hovering just over his dick.
He stares down at you, soft lips parted. His normall curly hair is stuck to his forehead and sweat is dripping down his temples and chest. You think he’s going to say no.
“Green.” You stare at him, attempting to cover the shock you feel. You’ve been at this for what feels like hours and there’s no doubt in your mind that he’s already exhausted. But he’s looking at you intently and you see no doubt in his eyes at all. Only trust.
You nod before swallowing him down again. Your nose is pressed into the curls of his pubic hair and saliva falls from the corners of your mouth. He whines and moans as you bob your head and his cock finally begins to respond – slowly but surely becoming harder and harder in your mouth. A stream of groans and curses fall from between his lips. You pull your mouth off him and wrap your fingers around him instead – you want to be able to see him as he falls apart again. You jack him off, flicking your wrist with each pull and you bring your other hand to message his balls.
“Come on, Josh. Give me one more.” You encourage him as he groans and whines. “I know you can do it. You’ve been so good for me tonight. Come on.”
His moans only grow louder and you can feel his balls tightening in your hand.
“That’s it, pretty boy. Give it to me.” And with that, he cums for the second time. Thick ropes paint your hand and his belly as his jaw drops open and his eyes clench shut.
“Y/n! Fuck.” He’s so loud you’re sure the nieghbors can probably hear him. You continue to pump him, guiding him through the pleasure until his moans of pleasure become moans of pain.
You let him go and reach down on the ground for his cotton boxers. You use them to carefully clean him up, doing your best to avoid his cock as much as possible. He’s watching you with dazed eyes, mouth still open and a drunk look on his face. You climb up next to him and carefully untie his wrists, rubbing the red skin from where he was yanking on them.
“You okay, baby?” You say as you give each wrist a soft kiss.
“Yeah, I think so.” He smiles lazily at you before leaning back to lie all the way down. “I don’t think I’ve ever cum that hard in my life.”
“Me neither.” You say, brushing his sweaty hair off his forehead. “Glad you suggested this.”
“Me too. Don’t think I’m gonna be able to cum again for another week.”
You laugh and lie down next to him, pulling the covers back up and over you both. You kiss him before laying your head down on his chest.
“We’ll see.”
“You taking control like that…” He admits quietly, “I think it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Mmm. I enjoyed it, too. Don’t get me wrong, I love it when you’re in control, but I like switching it up. We should definitely do it more often. You’re so pretty when you’re desperate.” You give him a cocky grin and he lets out a dramatic groan.
“I’m never gonna live that down, am I?”
You giggle.
“Never.”
#josh kiszka x reader#josh kiszka smut#josh kiszka fanfiction#josh kiszka#josh gvf#josh kiszka fic#greta van fleet fanfiction#greta van fleet smut#dee's writing
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I think alot about serizawa.
that he's so powerful and so sensitive, and how he's the very common Shonen anime trope of "villain with tragic backstory who just needed friends and is won over to the hero's side after the hero listens to them and shows them kindness" but like, his tragic backstory is so grounded in places others just aren't? like, he just didn't want to hurt anybody, so he hid himself away. that's so simple, yet so poignant and painful, so...normal. its such a common emotion, such a common solution. its not a healthy one or a "good" one, but its all he had...and then at some point, his self-imposed isolation became so hurtful to him that it caused him to become vulnerable to exploitation. to manipulation, and he became a weapon in a never ending cycle of violence, until someone was kind enough to listen to him, to want to help him.
and then i think about the fact that that person was just a child who had experienced the exact same struggle but was provided tools by people who loved him to help manage his problems....and it honestly makes me so emotional. because, like, it's a perfect allegory for how living with mental illness affects people.
serizawa is older than mob, so the society he grew up in didn't know how to handle his powers (mental illness/neurodivergency), but now, as times have changed and society has become increasingly more aware, it opens the pathway for people to find strength together, to have people in their lives that understand that they need kindess, they need love, that their mental illness isnt something bad or wrong.
but even more than that, they know that their differences do not make them bad people, they are not something to be shunned and hidden away, but just something to be worked through. just a unique aspect of how that person is, and it's neither good nor bad, just how they are.
and then i think about how serizawa didn't have anyone like that in his life until he was 30, and how those years of isolation and then manipulation (which caused him to do the very thing he was afraid of), how all of that could have broken him could have made him unloving, could have made him bitter. but instead, he overcame his fears, his guilt, his shame, and under all of that, he's just kind.
when i get really afraid, of myself, of the world, when i want to myself hide away and never leave my bed, my room, i think of him, and i feel so comforted, so much less alone.
what a wonderful man, written so gently, so lovingly. it's so rare to see a grown man with a stigmatized symptom of mental illness depicted in such a kind way, it makes me want to hug ONE through a phone screen.
anyway, uh. yeah katsuya. i think he's pretty neat.
#and the fact that the person to show mob kindess is reigen#and serizawa in so many fics is the one to pull reigen out of isolation#like WAGHH the PARALLELS#the full circle of it all#chomping on glass#crying screaming throwing up#mob psycho 100#serizawa katsuya#reigen arataka#shigeo kageyama#serirei#my personal headcanon is that serizawa has ocd but thats just because i too have the oh cee dee#also the fact that ive never seen a hikokomori depicted so well in an anime like...ever?#or at all?#honestly huge props to ONE for this one#haha see what i did there#okay ill shut up now
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‧˚₊ Smitten to the stars (ch.3/3)
pairing: (adult) midoriya izuku/female reader
summary: If merely having you in his life means enduring heartache and concealing his true feelings, then so be it. At least, that's Izuku's grand plan until life forces him into the one thing he dreads the most—confessing.
word count: 7.6k
chapter contains (check ao3 for all tags): food, smut (public sex -> beach, really light bondage because Black Whip, hickeys, hint of overstimulation, vaginal fingering), short talk of unprotected sex, mentions of harassment which includes one mention of stalking+death threats (no details are given)
• ao3 link
ch. 1 • ch.2
a/n: written in Izuku's pov
Preview
“Bye-bye, Milky Way?”
“Bye-bye, Milky Way.”
Izuku groaned dramatically, lowering his head into the crook of your neck, the hand on your waist sliding to your back to pull you into his arms. “Promise you’re coming with me if I’m being sent into outer space?"
“I’m not leaving Earth,” you tried to refuse, but he nipped at your skin. “Okay, fine, I promise! You and me and one interstellar journey. What could go wrong…I mean, sounds good, right?”
“Nothing would go wrong,” Izuku replied, his tone light but with an obvious hint of uncertainty. As you snickered at the improbability of that statement, he relented to the truth with his own laughter. “Everything would probably go wrong, but we’d figure it out.”
“Not if we get sucked into a black hole.”
He lifted his head. “Where’s your optimism, love?”
#no use of y/n#izuku midoriya x reader#deku x reader#reader insert#mha fic#mha x reader#female reader#dee's: smitten to the stars#deku smut#mha smut#bnha smut#izuku smut
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“Oh, is the little worm scared?”
Lunar bristled at this and sneered. “No.”
The imp clicked his tongue and looked ready to say something when both of them went rigid, standing alert. Before Lunar could question it, he heard a distant and deep rumble as it bounced off the walls. In the light of the bioluminescent fungi the twins grinned at one another, then looked to Lunar.
The first imp purred, “You will be~”
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CH 3 for 'Terror Comes in Twos' is up!
'Sun and Moon continue their quest by following Lunar's trail. Meanwhile, the fairy in question awakens in a new place.'
Feedback appreciated!
Meet our newest member of the cast below the cut :3c
#fairy au#dca fairy au#ao3#dca au fic#fairy au fic#fnaf daycare au#fnaf daycare attendant#sundrop fairy#moondrop fairy#lunar fairy#bloodmoon imp twins#deimos and phobos#dee#bo#goblin kc#tsams killcode#fnaf bloodmoon#fnaf kill code#fnaf sun and moon#fnaf sun#fnaf moon#fnaf sundrop#sundrop#fnaf moondrop#moondop#fnaf lunar#sassy lunar#reference sheet
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14 with sope 🤓. glad your back<3
thank you baby <3
send a number and a member ⭐
cw: fingering & oral ( f receiving ) , mention of trafficking and killing, shitty kidnapping attempt, meanie Hobi, age gap ( 20.28.30 )
Her father was a wealthy man with a good name, big company, and a lot of connections; he had and earned the respect of many and he made sure she stayed drowned in riches. She never really questioned her fathers work, but she knew exactly what he was doing when he came back home with bruised knuckles which she dressed without a word. He allowed the 20 year old to come and go as she pleased as long as she was home before 2 am although she wanted to stay on campus she and her father had an understanding relationship.
On a Monday morning she decided to walk to campus since she couldn't find her car keys. While walking she noticed two men following her to make sure she wasn't just paranoid she stopped at a coffee shop and still they followed her in until she walked out again. Internally panicking she pulled her phone out and called her father and he told her to just keep on walking and he'd be there in 2 minutes.
Still leading the men in circles timidly checking behind her she noticed they were not there anymore panicking again she looked around and around until a van pulled up and attempted to grab her up. Biting the wannabe captor in the process. He let her go yelping as she ran aimlessly till she saw her father collapsing into her father's chest face wet with tears.
From that day on he decided it was time to become more strict. He limited her curfew, she now took online classes, and he made sure she wasn’t alone anywhere without her bodyguards Jung Hoseok and Min Yoongi
Hoseok didn’t say much; he just grunted and groaned, while he glared at her; snatching her up when she tripped or stumbled, Calling her a clumsy brat but still checking her body for wounds. Tired of being defenseless She begged Hoseok to teach her self defense after seeing him flip a man 10x his size on his back for harassing you at a club.
He gave in but Hoseok wasn’t the ideal teacher. He constantly knocked her down on her ass over and over until eventually her eyes started watering from the fact that she didn’t stand a chance against whoever tried to harass her again. Her internal struggles didn’t help that on top of it was Hoseok Harsh words.
“your lazy foot works going to get you killed and stuffed in a suitcase”
“Do you want to be sold in a trafficking ring? tch like anyone spends money on you. such a spoiled bra-''
She was in tears on the gym floor. Realizing he pushed a little too hard he tried to comfort her before Min Yoongi came rushing in.
"Damn hope you're too harsh on the princess” he immediately scooped up in his arms. Burying her sobs into his shoulder.
Min Yoongi was the exact opposite of Jung Hoseok. He wasn't mean and pissy with her. Feeding into her bratty attitude, practically enabling it. Though he does pinch her thighs when she gets too out of hand, throwing a simple look her way leaving her pouty and skipping over to Hoseok it didn't take long for you to come back.
Hoseok obviously didn't have a good way with words. His love was tough and rough around the edges but when you crack those edges there was a soft and gooey side of him. Even if Y/N did crack him a bit he was more of an act of service kind of man. Yoongi knew this from years of working beside him...
“Hobi wants to say sorry baby.” Yoongi whispered as he cupped her cheeks to turn it towards said man as he trailed kisses down her neck and forehead fingers gripping her thighs pressing them to her chest, holding them wide open for Hobi's to slot between them. The younger man pulled her panties to the side with the quickness.
Watching him attach his mouth to her clit sucking as his fingers circled her hole she whined, head falling back. Sounds of Hobi and his lewd slurping along with the gushing of his veiny fingers invading her soaking walls. Loud sounds leaving her lips as she bucked her hips onto his face.
"Do you forgive Hobi for being so mean,hmm?" The oldest of the two asked, gripping her legs tighter as she squirmed. "Yes yes yes."
#nonniesೀ#— dee is writing ✍️#chile i gets DOWNNN 😋😋#bts x black reader#bts x reader#yoongi x reader#hoseok x reader#bts poly au#sope x reader#dijhera thots#jungkook x reader#bts fic rec#bts imagines#bts series#bts angst
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DAUGHTER LESSONS | a joel miller oneshot
masterlist
summary: would it kill joel to just touch you?
warnings: established relationship, infidelity, jackson-era, no mention of age, angst
author's note: so... i have been disgustingly obsessed with COWBOY CARTER (duh! i have taste) and have fixated on the duality of daddy lessons and DAUGHTER, which thereby produced this lovechild of the two. you guys know i love me some religious imagery and angst...
Nothing could’ve confined you to a pew in your youth.
Your knees had breathed a sigh of relief at the absence of a blood-red kneeler when you were granted Sunday morning autonomy. Only your grandmother’s morbid prophecies of watching mass from above this time next year herded you between the rows of wooden benches at Easter and Christmas.
Maybe it was her you were trying to reach; chin tipped to the ceiling as if you would be overcome with the smell of potpourri and Irish coffee, heart flooded with all the right answers.
Still, nothing good came.
“Didn’t expect t’find you in here.” His familiar drawl pricks at the hairs on your neck.
“I was trying out solitude.”
Joel had always moved with surprising stealth for someone of his build, but nothing he did these days surprised you anymore.
You had given him everything since meeting shortly after his and Ellie’s arrival in Jackson. It hadn’t taken long for you to witness his undoing.
But this time, Joel doesn’t move.
Rather, he stands in the middle of the aisle taking in the sight of you on your knees four rows ahead and to his left. Your hands are clasped so tightly together he can see the whites of your knuckles from this far back.
Joel knows the back of your head more intimately than he probably should.
You have a habit of turning away from him in bed at night the second you were overcome by the smallest amount of fatigue.
Too damn hot you would mumble from your tenure of the mattress. And he can’t say he minded too much.
Often, he would reach a hand to your hair spilling across the pillow onto his side before regaining sense and propping the hand underneath his head instead.
During your waking hours, languidly reciting the steps of your morning routine around his small kitchen, he feels the want to touch you.
He wants to smooth down the hair that always bobbled around the raised birthmark on your scalp. He wants to feel your cheek against the knuckle of his right index finger. He wants to take the coffee cup from your hands and engulf them in the warmth of his instead.
“She’s not here.” You mumble, so quietly that he’s not sure if that’s what you’ve actually said.
“Who?” He braves, wiping his sweating palms on the sleeves of his flannel shirt.
You respond with a scoff, confirming his hypothesis.
Of course she isn’t here. You both know very well that she isn’t here.
When Tommy had first introduced the two of you, he’d cornered Joel at the bar while ordering their third, or maybe fourth, round of drinks.
“She’s a good woman, Joel.”
“I’m figuring that out just fine.” He’d smirked, taking a preliminary sip of his beer before glancing back at you. Your elbows were perched on the wooden table, chin resting on your palms as you exchanged low-looks and snickers with Maria sat across from you.
“No, you don’t get it. She’s good. She’s kind. Her daddy’s the pastor here.”
“Not settin’ me up with a Bible basher are you, little brother? She gon’ make me wait until I give her a ring?”
He’d felt like an ass as soon as he’d opened his mouth, which was made worse by Tommy’s unchanging expression. He didn’t look irate or tired of Joel’s age-old shit – the face behind his warning was unwaveringly sincere.
“Just don’t hurt her.”
And in that moment, Joel couldn’t fathom anything as desacrating as hurting you. He had returned Tommy’s solemnity with a nod and carried your drinks back to your table; the remainder of the night blurring into the rest of his life.
He hadn’t fallen in love with you that night. Joel is stubborn in love, and it took months of langorous warmth to thaw his roughness.
You didn’t make him wait for a ring.
Nights spent in symphony with one another were the only moments Joel could bring himself to touch you. There, he knew how to work his hands, his tongue, his hips. Not once would he hesitate in reaching out to smooth a thumb across your forehead. He moved like a river, flowing into your body in desperation to meet the ocean.
And you wondered if he did it on purpose, or if he knew that he was doing it at all. Passing him in the intimacy of his home or the vastness of the food hall, you were only ever hungry for his skin against yours.
Slowly, you crept into his skin through his pores. You made his days sweeter and smoother wherever and however you could, hoping perhaps one evening his fingers would brush yours as you set a plate on the table before him.
But here you rise, swallowed in the rosy light of dawn with damp cheeks and all faith robbed from your chest.
“I can’t do this here, Joel.” You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand and attempt to put as much distance between the two of you as you pass him in the aisle.
“Then don’t. Come home.”
For a second he debates reaching out to you, wrapping you in his arms and letting you beat against his chest as your body racks with sobs. But the moment soon escapes him and he’s following you into the morning air.
“I buried my home a week ago.” You spoke flatly, bones void of any remnants of anger or fight. “You know what my daddy told me before he died?”
He thinks he does. Moreso, he can hazard a guess.
Nevertheless, he can’t quite seem to find his voice as you bring yourself to a halt. The morning sun peeks between the buildings behind you.
“Told me one day you’d play me for a fool. And look at me now.” You shook with breathy laughter. “He’s in the ground and there’s another woman keeping the man I love’s bed warm.”
Jackson would soon be rising with the sun. It had almost been a full day since you’d come home from patrol an hour earlier than Joel expected.
In truth, it hadn’t been the clothes strewn over kitchen chairs and draped over the bannisters. Not even the warm smell of salt and latex that hit you before you’d opened the bedroom door.
Joel’s fingers grazed the small of her back, tracing lazy shapes up and down her spine. Your stomach tightened into a small fist, losing all composure you had truly tried to maintain in your ascent up to the bedroom.
You had never even really been one to fight. Your father had taught you to handle yourself, and you’d learnt what was necessary to survive in the new world.
Really, you wanted to pollute the skin beneath Joel’s touch. You wanted for him to never touch anything beautiful again; to never grasp at cold cotton sheets in the middle of the night; to never feel the slow threat of rain tapping against his skin.
Life began to creep in around the two of you. Ellie and Tommy would soon come looking for Joel to set off on morning patrol.
“One day, Joel, someone is going to give you exactly what you deserve. And I pray to God that I’m there to see it.”
You turn on your heel, leaving Joel to watch as your hair sways from side-to-side down your back. He swallows the lump formed in his throat and tilts his chin to the sky, blinking away the threat of tears moistening his lower lashes.
He wipes his hands against his jeans and straightens his torso, forcing a low cough to clear his throat.
Peaches, he thinks. Tonight he will bring you peaches, and he will watch as the juice spills from the side of your mouth. He will reach a thumb to wipe it away, and he will hold you. For as long as you let him; as long as he breathes.
#joel miller x f!reader#joel tlou#the last of us#joel miller x reader#tlou fanfiction#joel miller x female reader#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#my fic#the last of us hbo#the last of us fanfiction#joel miller tlou#joel miller fanfic#joel x reader#tlou hbo#tlou#tlou2#dee writes
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Through the Labyrinth the Thread Guides; Idia Shroud
Strings tie together fates. Strings build fates. But should the thread unravel, will your fate follow?
Supporting Roles; Ortho Shroud & Grim
Content; Soulmate AU (I use the term soul match instead), gender-neutral reader, can be read as familial, platonic, or romantic, hurt/comfort, Idia being prime wet cat energy
Content Warnings; Idia & Ortho's backstory (brief mentions of death), some heavy self-depreciation & blaming (Idia), swearing, crying (Idia)
Word Count; 5.5 K
Do not put mine - or other creators’ - works into AI; that shit steals.
In rare instances, humans are given soul matches. It is an odd occurrence, but in a select few families, it is quite common to have one. One of these families being the Shrouds.
There is a story, a myth from aeons past, of a woman using a ball of thread to lead her and others in her company to safety. There is another tale, that one’s life is like that of a string, which the three fates cut with their shears. Strings connect things. Connect people in often invisible ways. They can create. If one snaps, or is loose, everything can unravel. But they can also ensnare; like the sticky strings of a spider’s web. Strings are something the Shroud family is well acquainted with. Alongside the family curse was a family blessing, placed upon them by the God of the Underworld.
No two strings are the same, as they reflected the qualities they shared with the person at the other end. The base colour would stay the same, but the brightness would change with their match’s emotions and well-being. The brighter and lighter the colour, the happier and better their match was. The darker the colour… it meant they were unwell, or under extreme conditions. But there were conflicting ideas within the family over the generations, all written down in a codex that dated back to the very first Shroud.
But, as with any blessing, there is a price to pay for such happiness. For nothing in this world comes for free. Each Shroud is born with two strings. The string on the right leads to the person who will love them for them, of comfort zones, a safety net if you will. The string on the left leads to someone who will change them, make them reassess their life. Right is the known, and left is the unknown. These strings can lead to many different types of relationships; familial, platonic, romantic, and many more.
The strings don’t ever disappear, but if the other person connected by the string dies, then their shared string snaps. The thread around their finger, now white, serving as a cruel reminder of what was. Or in some cases, of what could have been.
Another steep price is that the person at the end of the winding thread, should they choose their match, will also be subjected to the Shroud family’s curse. So there are many cases across the decades of select Shrouds choosing to ignore the thread, to not bring someone else to their fate. But not all matches felt the same way, as a few matches actively searched and confronted their match. These pairings serve as a reminder; that even though you may try to ignore fate, it will catch up to you. And both are transported into a labyrinth, disguised from each other; only able to get out with each other and without the one looking back.
Is this guarantee of happiness truly worth putting someone else, someone innocent, through the same cursed fate as them though? Many a Shroud, if not all, are conflicted by the prospect. Should happiness really come at the cost of someone else’s? Even if they would be happy together?
…
…
…
Idia looked into the crib where the yellow string on his right hand led, glowing a faint sunshine gold. This baby — Ortho — was supposed to be the person who will love him for him?
“Idia, honey, what’s with the frown,” his mom asked, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.
Idia peered into the crib, where Ortho was peacefully sound asleep. “My thread leads to him,” he muttered. He knew that eventually he and Ortho would bond, but it would be several years until the two could really get close. You can’t exactly have a conversation or play more complex games with a baby. “What does that mean?”
Mrs. Shroud hummed, her usual chipperness being a bit more subdued due to the little amount of sleep she was getting. Well, both parents really, but Mr Shroud just was extra tired and quiet when compared to his wife. “Well, remember the stories I tell you when you go to sleep, honey?”
“Like… Ariadne and the string? But that’s just a story, Mom,” Idia huffed, pushing the mobile and making the pegasi fly in a slow circle. “Plus Ariadne didn’t have a happy ending… the hero didn’t stay with her.”
Mrs. Shroud’s eyes were fixed on him, and she was thinking. “Well, the string that led to Theseus was on her left hand, dear; the left string changes us, for better or for worse. But on her right hand was another string, much like the string on yours. The string on your right hand is for those who will love you as you are. Regardless of what happens.”
Idia looked down into the crib again, where the pegasi cast dancing shadows. “But he’s so … small.”
“Well he is a baby,” Mrs. Shroud laughed, looking between her bewildered son and her peacefully sleeping baby. “Don’t worry, before long the two of you will be running and playing. You’ll be the best of friends, trust me. Okay?”
Idia didn’t look impressed but he nodded at his mom before heading back to his room. He finally knew where the yellow string, the string on his right hand, led. But why was the string on his right hand floating up before fading out into nothingness? A translucent thread, save for the tiniest hint of blue. No one in the stories, either old or new, had a string that went up. If his soul match were dead his thread would be white and hanging limply off of his finger. But no, it just led somewhere where he couldn’t see. A place that no one knew of.
Left strings lead to someone who will change us. But Idia had heard enough stories of how left threads led to either happiness or utter despair. After all, Ariadne’s left thread only brought her heartbreak, and her other soul match, the God of Revelry, was the only one that brought her solace.
…
Laughter haunted his mind. Cheer-filled laughter. Love. memories haunted his mind. But they were only that, memories. Memories could not replace Ortho. Memories could not bring back his brother. Memories could not fix everything that has happened.
It’s all my fault. He looked down at the mechanical parts. It’s all my fault. How long has it been since he last slept? It’s all my fault. “It’s all my fault,” he hissed, shoving the parts away in frustration.
Ortho wouldn’t have… We wouldn’t- Ortho would still be here if it weren’t for me! That was what Idia constantly told himself since the incident. If it weren’t for me, Ortho would be here! I’m no hero! I just want my brother back! GIVE ME MY BROTHER BACK!
But he wouldn’t get Ortho back, not truly. Death is a permanent thing, it cannot be undone. But Idia was not the only one hurting, for his parents were also grieving.
“Island of Woe,” Idia sighed, looking into the reflection off of one of the many monitors. “Rather fitting. Nothing but misery… but pain. Is this to be our fate?” His hair, once a dull blue, was now shining a brilliant angry red. “Is this Ortho’s fate? To die because of my influence?! He’s a kid! HE DIDN’T KNOW!” I’m just a kid. But as soon as the anger came up, it vanished, and the room went back to its dim blue glow from the multiple screens showing blueprints.
Sighing, Idia went back to work, fiddling with wires and reading over blueprints and various magic texts. If magic alone could not bring back Ortho, then maybe technology could. The past two years have been like this; Idia working long into the night, trying to find a way, any possible way, to bring Ortho back.
It’s all my fault, so the least I can do is make it right. He didn’t care how long it took him, he was going to make sure that Ortho would be back home.
The thread on the right-hand leads you to someone who will love you as you are. Idia loved Ortho, and he would still love him, even if his brother was now made of steel and wires.
“Here goes nothing.” What was this, the one-hundredth attempt? He spent nearly three months working on this body, but now was the moment of truth. “Please, please work.”
And he started up Ortho’s programming, waiting for the blue flame to ignite. And as the blue flame sparked to life, the string on Idia’s right hand connected itself to Ortho. Glowing a blinding yellow, changing from a bright pastel to a dark ochre, mirroring the complex emotions running through the older Shroud’s mind.
But the string on his left hand was still translucent and led nowhere, nowhere but up.
…
…
…
Eyes, eyes are everywhere. Voices are everywhere. And Idia could see all of this from the other side of the screen. Where the others were standing around the mirror chamber, whispering amongst themselves, Idia sat at his desk, watching everything take place. He really didn’t even want to be there, even virtually, but the Housewarden of each dorm was required to attend, he just happened to pull a few strings so he didn’t have to endure the social interaction.
Besides, the ceremony was the same every year, and Idia really didn’t need to be there to welcome the newcomers. So he wasn’t, instead watching and adding his input as needed, working on a new customization for Ortho. He looked down at his hand. The thread on his left hand was still translucent and went nowhere but up, fading into nothing. Idia still didn’t know what that was meant to mean, and there were no records in the family library or database about any other cases.
Left is the unknown. Left is what changes you. But what is there to change? Why should Idia change? He looked to his right hand, where the yellow thread on his pinky connected to Ortho. Right is who loves you for you. All Idia needed was Ortho, he didn’t need nor want anyone else. Especially someone waltzing in uninvited to throw a wrench in his life. Ortho was all Idia needed. Ortho was all Idia wanted. Never again was he going to lose his brother. He would go to the ends of the world and back for him.
The ceremony didn’t go off without a hitch though. Through the screen, Idia saw blue fire, saw students clamouring out to escape the flames. But the fire is not what caught Idia’s eye though, no. What caught his eye was that the thread on his left hand was glowing blue, and led outside his door, out into the campus of Night Raven College.
He felt a lump form in his throat. Left changes you. The thread dulled in its luminosity, becoming clouded. Confused. Both Idia and the person at the other end of the thread were confused. For Idia, it was that the thread was… active? It was the realization that the person who would change him was here, and that thought alone terrified him. But for the other person at the end of the thread, it was an entirely different kind of confusion. It was more along the lines of “Where the hell am I? WHY AM I IN A COFFIN?! WHY IS EVERYTHING ON FIRE?!” type of confusion.
And out of all the possible colours it had to be blue. Blue has many meanings; inspiration, imagination, trust, and wisdom. But also sadness. Feeling blue was called that for a reason. Blue hardly brought anything without sadness. But at the same time, it was all too fitting that the thread that he shared with his soul match was blue. Of course, Idia would bring nothing but sadness to his match.
Would I change them for the worse? I can’t drag them into this… I can’t do this. “I’m sorry, but I can’t be in your life,” he whispered, grabbing a pair of scissors. He drew the thread taut and brought the blades in, before snipping. But the tread didn’t break, instead, it cut through the scissors, changing from faded blue to a blazing gold, before fading back to blue.
Yeah, there was no chance of Idia removing the molten scissors from the floor of his room. His face paled, and he stared at the thread.
Others had tried to cut the thread off before him, but the scissors just bounced off. They didn’t cut through and melt metal. That wasn’t normal. None of this was normal. Idia wasn’t normal.
“Who are you?” But the thread didn’t answer, still glowing faintly, shifting from cyan to navy. The cyan shifted to navy, indicating they were feeling much the same. Idia brought his knees to his chest and hid his head into the space between them. Who are you, and what’s going to happen?
…
…
Saying that you weren’t happy would be a gross understatement. You were the furthest thing from happy. You were here, wherever here was, you nearly got burned alive by some cat creature that had adopted you as his hench-human, and some weird birdman had “graciously” let you stay in a dilapidated house infested with ghosts. So yeah, you were not having a good night.
“Why,” you seethed, looking through the cracked windows at the darkening sky. “Why me?” But all you got for an answer was creaking wood and the whistling of wind coming in through the many cracks in the walls and ceiling. You plopped down on one of the ancient sofas and fell straight through to the ground. Yeah, sure, why not?!
Today was a mess, a disastrous mess. But at least now, everything was quiet… for the most part, but whatever was to come could wait until tomorrow when you were somewhat well rested. In all of the ruckus and noise though, there was a silent change. Curiously, on each hand, on your pinky, were coloured strings.
On your right, a purple string, glowing with lilac and deep violet. With that string, you saw where it ended, which was on Grim’s right paw. But on your left hand, you couldn’t see the ending for the blue thread, glowing a faint navy. It led outside of the door and kept on going before disappearing off into campus. You didn’t know what strings meant here, but back at home, red strings were a popular trope in soulmate fanfiction. Here though? No clue. What does it mean to have two? Why were they different colours? Why did they just appear now?
The glowing strings didn’t answer, of course, and continued glowing. Fading between different shades of their respective colours, but the blue string remained a dark navy. To be fair though, nothing really made sense here. So, sure, why not?
There’s no bed… well, a proper bed. So the floor it is I guess. It wasn’t the most ideal of situations, but it was a bit better than sleeping outside. Looking up to the ceiling, you started counting the cracks to take your mind off of things. Fifty-six, fifty-seven… How many cracks could a ceiling have until it didn’t count as a ceiling? Sighing, you tugged at the blue string, seeing if you would get some kind of answer back. But nope. Nada. Zero. You got zilch as an answer. But the string was less of the dark, deep, navy, and there was a hint of a true blue in the mix.
You rubbed your eyes and kept on tugging at the string every time you counted another crack. One hundred and … I lost count FU- you groaned in defeat. You gave one last pull at the string before deciding to try and get some shut-eye. If today was just beginning, then, boy howdy, more chaos and shenanigans were sure to come your way. And what chaos and shenanigans they were.
…
…
…
Idia was antsy today, more antsy than usual. Every night, at around the same time, he would feel the thread on his left pinky tug. It was insistent, but it was the same number every time. He hadn’t made any sort of move with his string since he tried to cut it. And honestly, he was scared to even touch it. Fearing that should he interact with the string, that it would bring his other soul match into his life. Finally, he felt the last tug, which was always the strongest, and sighed with relief.
At first, Idia thought it was just his match trying to get his attention, and that was still a possibility, but it was the same amount of tugs every night. They didn’t pull the string at any other time, only at night. So perhaps trying to get his attention wasn’t the point. Maybe it was Morse code? But the tugging was the same quick motion. Unless his match was just saying E two hundred and thirteen times with a T at the end, they weren’t trying to get a message across. Then what did they want? What were they doing? Why were they doing it?
“Why am I thinking about them,” he hissed under his breath, placing his forehead on his desk. I don’t want to think about them… they’ll change everything.
And while many people in his family had good relationships with their match on their left string, there was always the chance that it could end horribly. They would hate me anyways… the only one that likes me is Ortho. All I need is Ortho.
“They can’t hate you if you don’t give them the chance to know you!” Ortho had seamlessly snuck into the room, and apparently Idia had said his thoughts out loud too. Ortho looked at Idia’s left hand, he couldn’t actually see the thread, but he knew it was there, and he knew it had appeared the day of the ceremony. Knew that Idia was quietly obsessing on not meeting his soul match. “You can’t avoid them forever, nii-san!”
I can’t avoid them forever. Ortho was right in that, since the threads would tighten and force the reluctant one — aka Idia — to them. And he cringed at the thought of his thread practically dragging him to his soul match. If they already thought he was some loser, then surely that introduction wouldn’t bolster any confidence. “They don’t need me… they don’t want me.”
Ortho frowned, and their connected thread turned a dark ochre, reflecting Ortho’s frustration at his older brother’s resistance. “How do you know that, though?”
“I just do,” Idia huffed.
He loved his younger brother, loved him so much that he couldn’t live without him, but sometimes Idia wished that he would drop the subject of soul matches. Stop trying to make him change his mind. Right is for those who love you regardless of everything. But Idia knew Ortho only did it to try and make him happy. Left is who changes you.
Ortho yanked on their thread, forcing Idia out of his own head. “No, no you don’t. And maybe they won’t change you, but you just might change for them.” Change is a part of life. Enjoy life, Idia. Ortho didn’t say that though, hoping that Idia would get out of his comfort zone, take a chance, go on a quest, and find the other person at the end of the string. Wherever they may be.
…
…
…
Something was wrong. The thread on your finger had turned black, and led to nowhere, fading into the air. It had happened right as you had entered the air zone of the Island of Woe.
Go back! Turn back! Now is a BAD time! But was there ever a good time? Would there ever be a good time? And despite the alarm bells practically screaming in your head, you advanced. Originally you came here to rescue your friends — even if a few were more reluctant to call you that — but there was something more. It was as if you were here for a reason.
The right string, your string that led to Grim, was glowing a faint, dark violet. He’s scared. And like hell were you going to abandon your demanding fur-child. Yes, he gave you constant migraines and set the kitchen on fire too many times to really count — forty-seven though according to Deuce — but you loved the little asshole. Loved him enough to face down Idia… Idia who was surrounded by blot. But that wasn’t all, no. Both of you were in a maze, a labyrinth, made of ink. And Idia wasn’t all there, and you knew that a part of him was outside of the maze, as was a part of you. But the parts that mattered were here, stuck in the dripping labyrinth, together.
And then Idia was gone, either being teleported to somewhere else in the maze, or back outside. In your mind you could see the events unfolding, but you weren’t really there. In the darkness there were two sources of light. The thread on your left pinky was now glowing a blinding gold, and weaving between the inky walls. Going forward. But there was also the string on your right hand, glowing a faint purple and led up. In order to get out of this maze it looked like you would have to follow the blue thread now turned gold which blazed forward like the Sun across the horizon.
In your mind you could see everyone fighting Idia, could see yourself fighting Idia, but you were following the gold thread through the silent maze.
“Where are you bringing me?” But all you got for an answer was a slight change in brightness. None of this made sense. I really should have researched this when I had the chance. That’s a problem for future me though.
The thread eventually stopped though, stopping in front of a figure sitting on the ground with his knees to his chest, hugging them. A figure made of blue, gold, and yellow flame.
…
Idia felt his chest and eyes burning. Why am I crying? He looked through his tear-warped vision, but he was in some sort of labyrinth. Why am I here? The thread was glowing gold, much as it had when he had attempted to cut it. But instead of being unbearably hot, it was warm, like his favourite hoodie. Comforting. But the thread on his right hand had snapped again, and was white. Ortho was gone again. It’s all my fault. Everything is always my fault.
Left changes us. Left is the unknown. Left is possibility.
But it’s also pain, uncertainty, fear, rejection—
“But how do you know that though?” That’s what Ortho said. And Idia didn’t know those things, not for certain.
He curled into himself, trying to ground himself. A curt laugh escaping from his lips. “A labyrinth of all places,” he said quietly into the dripping gloom. Fitting, since Ariadne was hurt most by the person she met there. Are you trying to tell me they’ll come in here, waltzing in like some hot shot hero, only then to ditch me for someone else?
But the thread only continued to glow, leading out into the maze. The only way out is forward. But Idia couldn’t move, he felt frozen, stuck. So he just sat there, letting out the built up grief of years and years come out. The tears gently rolled down his face before falling into the ink.
“Are you okay?”
A voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and Idia looked up. Standing at the entrance(?), exit(?) of the labyrinth was a figure, their voice distorted, and their body made up of blue, gold, and lilac flames. And he and they were connected together through the gold cord.
Idia moved in further on himself. “No,” he hissed. Obviously he was not okay. “G-go away! I don’t need you!”
But the figure only got closer, and came down to sit next to him, quietly waiting for him. “I may or may not know you, cuz honestly I can’t tell with the weird voice filter and flame suit, but I think you do need me… I know nothing about what this means,” you picked up the gold thread connecting the two of you together, “but I do know it means we’re connected in some way. Also that we can only get out with each other, regardless of if we like it or not.”
Regardless of if we like it or not. Idia hated this entire situation. He was stuck in here, in this maze with his soul match’s inner flame, but he was also outside. Left changes us. “I don’t want you.” I didn’t ask for any of this. I don’t want any of this.
It stung a bit, but you knew there was no bite to their bark. “You may not want me, and I may not want you, but I think we need each other. Cuz whatever these strings are, seem to have a mind of their own.” You got off the ground and offered your hand to your gloomy companion. “Now, are you going to sit here in the dark, or do you want to get out of this place?”
Idia looked up at them. You may not want me, and I may not want you, but I think we need each other. They were right. He wouldn’t be able to leave this maze without them. And right now, they were glowing as bright as the Sun, warm, comforting, and bright. Left is to change. Left is the unknown. So, Idia took their hand.
…
…
The two of you walked in silence throughout the maze, the only sound being the drip drip drip of ink hitting the ground. The further you went from where your fellow flame person was moping, the more light there was, and the ink was slowly fading out. But there was still a long ways to go. But the silence was suffocating, especially since you had some questions that needed answering.
“So,” you cleared your throat, breaking the quiet. “What do these strings mean?”
The flame figure, who was in actuality Idia, beside you tripped. They don’t know? How could they not know? “... they’re soul match threads…”
Soul match? “And what does that mean?” It’s not my fault that I don’t know anything about this. I didn’t really receive a “Welcome to Twisted Wonderland!” brochure.
Idia sighed. He was still nervous around you, but the anonymity of the voice filters and the fact that you were made of fire helped calm his nerves enough. “The one on the right is for the person who loves you for you, regardless of flaws.” And his had broke again, Ortho was gone again. “The left thread is for the person who will change you… it also means the unknown.”
“I don’t want you!” So that’s why they were so defensive. “Well, change can be scary. It can be good or bad,” you hummed. “But life is filled with change… Life is change. You can’t truly live without changing, without taking a chance on the unknown.”
“You’re pretty wise,” it slipped out of his mouth before Idia knew, and he was glad that the fire didn’t change colour like his hair did, or else he would have been bright pink. “Sorry, forget I s-said that!”
But you just chuckled, “Meh, just have learned a lot in the past couple of months… blue does mean wisdom though.”
“It also means sadness.” Idia stopped walking. “I don’t want to bring sadness into your life… it seems to be the only thing I bring.”
“Blue can mean a hundred different things, you just have to decide what it means for you. For me? It means a bright clear sky. It’s water. It’s the bright blue of … my friend’s fire. It can mean anything. You just have to give it meaning.” You didn’t really know why you were saying all of this, but you felt like you could be honest with the stranger beside you.
Left changes you. Left is the unknown… the left can be something you choose for yourself? Idia had always thought that his soul match would be different from him. Try to forcibly change him. But they weren’t. They were helping him, giving him… advice? Helping him out of the maze. Which at first was filled with dark ink, but now instead of stepping on the dark surface, they were in a maze made of white marble, and a blue sky dotted with white clouds overhead.
You didn’t look back at Idia when he stopped walking, and instead waited patiently. You don’t know why, but you had a feeling that if you looked back, they would disappear, heading back to the darkness of the centre of the labyrinth. “Come on, we’re almost out.” You offered your hand again, waiting. “Let’s get out of here.”
This time Idia took your hand without a second thought. A blinding light forced the both of you to close your eyes and you found yourselves out of the maze. To the aftermath of the overblot.
…
…
…
It was a week before the physical string on your and Idia’s hand came back. But this time it was different; instead of being purely blue it was a mix of blue and gold, taking on a marbled appearance. Idia’s right thread to Ortho was back too, and he was overjoyed to have his brother back.
“You met them, didn’t you? In the labyrinth?” Ortho asked, noticing that his brother was different, not a bad different either. “That’s how you escaped the blot.”
Idia nodded. Without his soul match, he would still be stuck in the blot, stuck in the dark maze… stuck in obsessing and blaming himself for what happened in the past. Left is the unknown. Left is the future. “They… they were kind.”
Ortho looked at Idia, and there was a smile in his eyes. “Go to them then, nii-san!!!” He harshly pulled on his thread to push his message home. “What are you waiting for, Idia?!”
What am I waiting for? They had already reached out to him, saved him, so it was only fair to find them in return… to show that he changed. So, he gently plucked at the thread, holding his breath as he waited for an answer. And he felt a pull back as an answer.
Just think of it as a side adventure in a game. This isn’t some boss battle. This isn’t a bad ending in an otome game… This isn’t a game though.
…
You were smothering Grim in hugs and kisses. “I LOVE YOU, YOU FLUFFY JERK!” You muffled into his fur as he tried to escape your affection.
“Nyeh! You’re choking me! Let me go, hench-human!” Grim squirmed out of your grasp, but hugged your leg. “... I missed you too.”
After everything with Idia’s overblot, you had been giving Grim extra love. Yes, he could be an ass at times, but he’s still your friend, and you loved him regardless. Right is for those who love you regardless of anything else. You loved Grim, regardless of everything that he’s done. And he loved you. You two were family. A vibrating sensation on your left hand pulled you from the sweet moment.
The thread connected to your hand was slowly vibrating. So, they’re reaching out? … maybe I did change them? And you lightly pulled on the string. You wanted to find them, if for nothing else than to make sure that they were okay.
“Grim, don’t start any house fires when I’m gone,” you placed a kiss on his forehead before going out the door. Ramshackle was still a disaster zone, but it was still home to you. You could always fix it later. It could wait. But the other person at the end of your blue and gold marbled thread could not.
You didn’t know who they were, you didn’t know who to expect, but you were open to the possibilities. You were open to change, open to the unknown. Open to the future, whatever that may look like with them.
Eventually your string stopped, and looking up from the thread you saw Idia, shaking slightly and looking at the string connecting you two. Focusing so strongly that you had came that he hadn’t even looked up to see who his soul match was.
“I know what you may think of me, but…” he took in a shaky breath, trying to get the vulnerability of his voice under control. “I’m trying to change, accepting that what happened, happened. But it’s going to take me a while to level up-” He cringed at the gaming slang he used.
You placed your hand on his. “How do you know what I think about you if you never really asked me?”
Idia’s head snapped up and he looked at you with wide eyes, hair flashing a flustered pink. “It’s you?!” He practically squeaked. The strong, responsible, and kind Prefect?! “NOT THAT THAT’S A BAD THING THOUGH!”
“Do you think change is so scary, now that we know it’s each other?”
Idia looked into your eyes, and he knew his answer. “As long as we have each other, no. It’s not.”
Fin!
Author's Note; Did I use a popular soulmate trope with the string of fate? Yes. Do I care? No~. I did tie in the mythology of Ariadne, but also of Orpheus & Eurydice. Also some colour language because I can. I hope you enjoy Idia's story! If you like my work, or want to read the other Soul Match AU stories I have, do check out my masterlist!
Tags!
@inkybloom-luv @eynnwwyjth @xxoomiii
#twst#twst x reader#twst x gn reader#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#twisted wonderland x gn reader#twst soulmate au#soul match au#idia shroud#idia shroud x reader#idia shroud x gn reader#twst idia#idia x reader#idia x gn reader#ortho shroud#twst grim#twst hurt/comfort#twst fic#i'm blue da ba dee da ba di#idia shroud; so much of a wet cat that he's entirely made up of water#should i just put the entirety of “I'm Blue” in the tags? ...... no#I'M BLUE-#bit different from the rest but that's okay; i like how it turned out#up next is lilia but i need a nap before taking on another 5.5K#also i lowkey want to draw(?) paint (?) their flame figures in the dark with the gold thread connecting them#but i haven't painted in a hot minute#like i'm imagining van gogh style and idk how to do that#tags are for easter eggs and for me to ramble when all of the important ones are done#might not write anything new for a little bit and instead slowly re-write an old wip until i get the energy to write something new#majority of this was written in the span of three days
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I've been rotating Kirby characters in my head again and thought up a story in which Kirby gets pulled into an alternate timeline and ends up in a dystopic version of Dream Land where everything is dark and scary and miserable, King Dedede has been deposed and overthrown by an evil villain who's taken over the land and he's gone missing, and Meta Knight leads a band of revolutionaries in Dedede's name (said revolutionaries being the Halberd's crew + Bandana Waddle Dee)
I have yet to figure out what happened to this timeline's Kirby, since everyone is supposed to know who he is and be surprised to see him, so I guess that implies their timeline's Kirby is gone? :(
but anyway, rough plot goes as such---Kirby ends up in this alternate timeline and doesn't understand what's happened. his first indicator of what's happened is finding wanted posters of people he recognises, like Bandana and the Meta-Knights, and when he finds Meta Knight's wanted poster, he's even more confused. what little he can understand of what the poster says is saying he's committing crimes against the king, but why would Meta do that? aren't Meta and Dedede friends? didn't they call each other sworn partners? what happened?
he eventually encounters the rebels themselves and they're shocked to see him, and he's shocked to see them, especially Meta Knight, the rebel leader, wearing Dedede's robe over one of his shoulders (like a one-shouldered cape) and his men bearing the crest of the king. Meta and the others explain to Kirby that Dedede had been overthrown by an evil being and has been missing ever since, the only things left of him being his crown and robe (the latter which Meta stole from the villain). the villain calls himself the king, and has told the people of Dream Land that Dedede is gone and is never coming back, but Meta Knight refuses to believe that, citing that he knows the king is out there, he can feel it, and he won't rest until he beats the blackguard who deposed him and finds Dedede. thus he created the rebel group out of his own men (and Bandana joined) and dubbed them the "Knights of Dedede". (now I am a metadede shipper so that would be why there's a lot of unending devotion vibes here but if you're thinking this could be out of character for Meta Knight, I feel like the other reason he named his band of revolutionaries the Knights of Dedede and dons the king's robe is to really stick it to the villain, who wants the public to forget about him, but Meta won't let that happen, and obviously won't rest until the villain is defeated. and yes I know Meta once tried to overthrow Dedede himself and I think that makes this funnier.)
Kirby joins the rebel cause and they storm the castle, where the villain is, and we learn more of the history of this timeline---various rebels have been imprisoned by the villain more than once, including Meta Knight himself, but they've all managed to break out, usually Meta coming to break his men out. the villain is insistent on making Meta bend to his will and serve him, because, you know, that would mean he had truly won and truly ran the kingdom if even Dedede's most loyal knight and the resistance leader was defeated and served him, but Meta refuses to yield, and this is where Kirby would fight the villain, beat him, and when the villain gears up for round two, Meta creates a diversion, urging his men and Kirby to flee, which they don't wanna do, but they have to, and Meta is captured in his attempt to protect them
Kirby and the Knights of Dedede then go on a quest to find Dedede, because if Meta believe's he's still around, he must be, and they find him, I was thinking deep in the heart of some woods or something, could also be deep underground or underwater, whichever fits, but encased in stone like a statue, and through some magic or some new ability, they manage to free Dedede from his stone prison, and guy has no idea what's happened and has to be brought up to speed while they rush back to the castle
they storm the castle again, and the villain is angry at seeing this. meanwhile, Meta Knight, who is chained beside the throne (for peak humiliation vibes which would fit a sadistic villain), is filled with resolve anew at the sight of his men and his king returned, and all hell breaks loose as they rush the villain, free Meta, and assemble as a full team, and then another battle ensues (I'd think it would be all of them ganging up on the villain in the first phase of the battle, but in the second, maybe Kirby gets the spotlight because he's Kirby, or it's just the quartet of Meta, Dedede, Bandana, and Kirby) and when the villain is defeated, Kirby is sent back to his timeline and everything is fine
I also thought it would be really funny if his friends from his timeline were able to see everything that happened in the alternate timeline via like a magic crystal ball or something. I just think that would be funny. ALTERNATIVELY you could have this whole plot not be an alternate timeline and just something that happens in this timeline and the explanation of Kirby not knowing what the hell happened is that he was like knocked out for an unspecified but long amount of time, and that would also explain why everyone knows about him and they're all surprised to see him back.
anyway enough rough plot explanation now have some of the funny things I said about this idea
#sparkyblizz speaks#random rants#writing woes#kirby#bandana waddle dee#meta knight#king dedede#meta-knights#sailor waddle dee#captain vul#metadede#because if I wrote this as a fic or something there would be metadede
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I'm sure as hell that Bandana Dee is much weaker than canon Bandana Dee in AWTDY AU
no!!??? he's strong!! where is this coming from!! that's a dedicated and powerful little guy in all AUs and circumstances!! he's strong!!! it's just really hard when almost everyone around you is a Cosmic Superpower!!
#😭😭😭😭😭 don't be mean to him!!#he's strong! he trains hard!#thinking of that one game vs anime fic where bandee one-hit punched nightmare into the moon and was like#“augh.. sorry you only got me... kirby would have punched him several light years away” and everybody was like HUHHH!???#bandana waddle dee#awtdy au
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Cats and Ice Cream shenanigans
Includes Kirby trying to rip Meta Knight's mask off and Meta Knight pushing Kirby away while they screamed bloody murder. Yup, that's the scene.
and also Bandana having to deal with them(there's Dedede but my energy poofed before I could draw him. Excuses. Because I have no clue how to draw him in that one scene)
these are all from a one shot i posted
You can read it here ^^
#kirby#meta knight#bandana waddle dee#kirby return to dreamland#hoshi no kirby#hoshi no kaabii#kirby of the stars#bandee#crack#its all crack#ah and kirby and meta knight kinda have sibling relationship here#with reasons#bandana kinda centric fic#and dedede is the mom#bandana is the middle child#kirby is the youngest#and meta knight is the eldest#it make sense if you read the ff
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Best Jake writer?
Best Josh writer?
Best Sam writer?
Best Daniel writer?
In your opinion?
okay so it is literally impossible for me to choose just one writer for each of the boys so im j gonna link some of my fav fics - which is also rlly hard bc there's so many amazing writers on here. so here are just a FEW that come to mind :)
also i mostly read jake fics with a few sprinklings of josh fics so im very sorry that i dont have as many sam and danny recs
jake:
anything by @jakeyt
anything by @gretavanlace
anything by @sparrowofthedawnsworld
anything by @lightmylove-gvf
you first by @geminisecrets
little wing by @daisyful-gvf
so sweet by @profitofthedune
indifferent by @indigostardustchords
a night of revelry by @threadandlace
you don't even know by @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine
behind closed doors by @anthemofgvf
cursed by @lightmylove-gvf
karaoke nights at the hooded crow by @finestoflines
reflection by @vanfleeter
pick yourself up by @ageofhearingloss
imperfect moments by @abeautylives
bring the rain by @tearsofstarlust
josh:
anything by @joshym
trinity by @lightmylove-gvf
trip around the sun by @abeautylives
stars collide by @gretavanlace
knock at the cabin @tearsofcaravel
the sex scene by @lightmylove-gvf
woman in a dream by @rhinestoneskye
endless summer by @anthemofgvf
piano man by @losfacedevil
danny:
distorted hues by @jakeyt
stroke me by @hyperfixated-gvf
a cowgirl's dream by @hearts-hunger
laundry room shenanigans by @allieisacrybaby
fade into you by @builtbybrokenbells
can't hold back by @spark-my-nature
sammy:
why don't you make me by @joshym
best bad habit by @sinsofstardust
reflections by @sunshinevanfleet
to be loved by you by @sacredjake
sweet peach by @hearts-hunger
this is the hardest thing i've ever done 😭
there's so many good fics but this is the best i can do rn. honestly i might j keep adding to this when i can
#dee answers#greta van fleet fanfc#fic recs#gvf fic recs#jake kiszka x reader#josh kiszka x reader#sam kiszka x reader#danny wagner x reader
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‧˚₊ Smitten to the stars (ch.1/3)
pairing: (adult) midoriya izuku/female reader
summary: If merely having you in his life means enduring heartache and concealing his true feelings, then so be it. At least, that's Izuku's grand plan until life forces him into the one thing he dreads the most—confessing.
word count: 6.1k
chapter contains (check ao3 for all tags): smut, food, smoking, friends with benefits situation
• ao3 link
a/n: written in Izuku's pov
Preview
Summer’s storm clouds rolled in as Izuku walked into your apartment building with a skip in his step and a suppressed grin that hurt his cheeks. He hurried to the elevator, past the inattentive guard, and pushed the numbered button to your floor. His excitement could hardly be contained as he shifted his weight, bounced his knee, and glanced every other second at the gifts he held carefully in his hands. With no one but himself around, Izuku allowed the grin to form on his face—what face would you make upon seeing him at your door?
The pungent smell of bleach and floor detergent disturbed his nose as he exited the elevator. He grimaced, looking around for the cleaning lady who was definitely somewhere nearby, and pulled his cap lower, picking up the pace. No way was he about to risk bumping into said woman and waste precious minutes laughing awkwardly in the face of prying questions while convincing her of how he really needed to go.
Stopping in front of your door, he closed his eyes briefly and inhaled, then let go of the air slowly and reached for the doorbell. The shrill sound going off inside your apartment turned his stomach into a fluttering chaos that only escalated when the muffled padding of your feet getting closer and closer reached his ears. While you unlocked the many locks on your door, courtesy of his constant nagging about safety and his complaints about the building not being that secure, Izuku hid the gifts he brought behind his back.
The door slid open, and you came into view, the notion of calmness a foreign concept. Hair damp and dressed in a thin tank top and shorts, both hugging your curves just right, you blinked owlishly at him.
“Izuku? What—I thought you’re coming back tomorrow,” you said in that honeyed voice of yours.
He forced his gaze to stay on your face and face only, not drift lower. “Surprise?”
#no use of y/n#izuku midoriya x reader#deku x reader#reader insert#bnha x reader#female reader#bnha fic#izuku x reader#mha fic#mha x reader#bnha smut#deku smut#mha smut#smoker izuku anyone?#not sorry#dee's: smitten to the stars
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