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thewriterg · 5 months

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𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧’ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬 chp.3

pairing(s); simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader, johnny ‘soap’ mactavish x fem!reader, kyle ‘gaz’ garrick x fem!reader, john ‘bravo six’ price, werewolf!soap, harp crow hybrid!gaz, dragon hybrid!price, wraith!hybrid (?) ghost, phoenix!hybrid (?) reader

summary; You’re shot and not healing, what could be worse? Everything

word count; 3.8k | chasin’ chaos masterlist

warning(s); monster au, dark twisted themes, normal cod violence, firearms, knives, combat, pinning (?), poly themes, death, r call sign is flatline, blood consumption, eventual smut, kissin, and language

A/n: First post of 2024 what the hell writers!? 🙈

The walk to the excile point was a surprisingly smooth one, even if it felt like you were walking through hells trenches. The grim reaper himself strides beside you even though your footsteps aren’t matching his. They’re a bit… delayed, the thought that makes you want to trip. Fortunately, it’s nothing too drastic to actually make you stumble. God you hated Americans, so trigger happy with not a lick of skill behind those damn fingers. How they contributed to win some of the largest wars ever recorded was beyond you. Continuing to let your unreliable footing carry you on your marry way, You and Ghost both lead your sergeants, while they in response lead your privates to your designated location.

Soap doesn’t even blink at the weight he had lugged on his back even though it was sure to bite him in the ass when he dialed back to his normal size. The small force of everyone is on guard until the very last moment where your all loading helis. Even then the Scott noted how the Wraith and Phoenix’s shoulders did not seem to drop, even though you were being confined into a temporary security until you could return to base. You, Gaz, Ghost, Price and Himself —along with two lower rank hybrids— load into one of the two aircraft’s waiting for you while the other privates have no choice but to load on the second.

You sit next to Gaz and Soap soon takes a seat next to you gleefully accepting the opportunity, a bit confused when Price seemingly turned his eyebrow up at the arrangement. His head slightly tilted when he noticed you don’t meet the captains gaze but the bucket hat wearing man doesn’t comment on it and neither does he. The ride from that point is smooth until about an hour in your pilot experiences turbulence, and suddenly Your head is spinning, your gums are itching as if you were a toddler teething. Everything is heightened, you can hear the blades of the heilo even through the density of you headphones, your eyes are sensitive to the faintest bit of the moonlight peaking through the windshield, and your body spiked in temperature, burning hot like hell. Your attempt to take a breath was useless when the potent scent of blood hits your nostrils. So sweet yet it felt like the peach fuzz in your nostrils burned and you groaned abruptly.

“You alright Lt? You dinnae look too we-”

“Which one of you is bleeding” You interrupt the Mohawk’ed sergeant with a hiss, placing a hand over your nose and curling over your knees. Heads snap to you like a mouse in a trap and Price is up out of his seat before anyone push the weight on their knees to stand. The brunette kneels in front of you, you’re not looking at him but he can see your eyes are dilated theirs faint veins trailing under your eyes that look like they want to spur from beneath your skin. You irises are layered with a foggy film and you look so far away it could’ve broken the captains heart, but he had to be your superior before he could be your comforter and he was sure you could handle it.

“Hey, Hey! What’s goin’ on? Look at me! What’s happe-?” It happened to quick to process, in the bat of an eye the Scott would say. One moment you’re looking distant and far away in your seat and the other you have one of your privates Tank against the cold steel wall of the heilo with that certain look in your eyes. You see it a few times in his line of work.

Bloodlust,

Fangs sprout from the roots of your gums, deep dark red veins swarm under your eyes, your pupils have taken over the whites of your eyes, and you are not yourself to say the least. In quick action Gaz squawks —even though it’s more like a screech— it put you down to your knees while you hands clutch your head mouth open in a small ‘o’ with a silent scream ghosting from your lips. It throws you off for a minute, but it’s not a minute long enough. You adjust quickly and with the same speed you pinned down the raven haired private you do the same to the rich skinned Sargent, a hand wrapped around his throat effectively stopping is antagonizing screeching. You bare your fangs at him with a hiss and he nods with a groan on his lips.

“I get it Lt, n-no more screeching… you g-got it”

Before you could do anymore damage your soon the one groaning when that scent takes over your senses again. When you turn to the source in your somewhat unconscious mind your realize it wasn’t your original subject, the scent was much more… potent

“This what you want? Come ‘ere, take what you want” Ghost’s gruff voice rings over your ears as he stands tall, combat knife in his right hand his opposite palm sliced open blood dripping like water from the tap. You didn’t quite lunge at the blonde but you weren’t gentle either. It was different… you were rigid as your fangs pierced his jugular taking exactly what you wanted with a hand wrapped around the front shoulder covering of his bullet proof vest. Soon however, you’re groaning into the surface of his skin ready to pull away when your frame was restrained against the wraiths keeping you in place. Your senses are be ridden into overdrive, grunting in protest against the lieutenant struggling inevitably. Shadows slither up your body effectively keeping you still and you’re weaker than ever —it concerns the Brit to no end— effectively out like a light, dead weight pressing against the front of Ghost’s torso. that he takes willingly. The chopper is finally quiet, seconds feel like minutes and minutes feel like hours. The captain and —conscious— lieutenant are the first to move, the skull masked soldier sits with your unconscious body in his lap. He swings your legs over his knees and holds your shoulders and in his arm supporting the weight.

Price examines your flesh, nothing alarming to the eye until he gets to the ending of your collarbone and beginning of your shoulder blade. It was barely noticeable to the eye with your all black gear a hole is punctured through your shirt —the fabric saturated with blood— just where your bulletproof vest stops.

“Gaz. Bullet wound, collarbone to shoulder area, ammo unknown, no exit.” The brunette calls out to the sergeant and he notes it immediately, going up to the pilots cavity to grab first aid coming back a practical second later. He hands his captain; gauze, scissors, forceps, tape, and medical wrap. Not nearly enough to give you a beginning of a processable recovery but, it’s something to keep you stable and sterilized. Price takes the shears cutting a big enough square in the fabric of your shirt for him to see with the shitty helo lighting. With enough gauze to clear out a cotton field the bleeding is finally stopped. What stands out the most however is your veins, different shades of black and gray spreading from the wounds up your neck and down your arm. Price curses gruffly, Ghost grunts in disdain, while Gaz catches a gasp in his throat and holds it there. Without another word and with a steady hand the dragon goes in with the tweezers fishing about for the stray bullet wearily when you twitch, ignoring how his lieutenant tightens his hold around you. Soon enough without hitting a nerve he pulls out a bullet its black resembling the color spreading abnormally through your veins.

“Never seen anything like it Cap” The brown eyed sergeant murmurs analyzing the bullet while the older brunette begins to patch you up good enough to where you aren’t bleeding out.

“Somethin’ illegal i'm pretty sure, Americans and Russians in wits with one another? Can’t be arsed to think about it” Their captain is cold, no humor in his voice to spare. Soap perks up at it having been waved away throughout the whole process of it all, ‘safety percussion’ the harpy tried to mutter to him softly even though it came off as passive and off putting the Scott got the message. With a knee bouncing in uncertainty the Scott tries his best to see through the gap of two fit frames that are practically shoulder to shoulder, begging to see anything —straining his eyes in the process— but in the end he wished he didn’t.

“Is she still breathing!? Check ‘er pulse how many beats per minute?”

“Mactavi-” The lieutenant begins with a hiss

“Those types of bullets mark hybrids for death, big ones, powerful ones, like us… like her. Wolves, dragons, sirens, cockatrice, harpies, hellhounds, cyclops, every big shot in the books. I don’t know how the ‘ell her heart hasn’t stopped”

“125 beats per minute Cap, her heart isn’t slowing it’s… going into overdrive” Gaz’s brows furrow at the words slipping from his lips as if it wasn’t his own recognition, as if he were learning it for the first time. Price curses moving towards the captain's cavity taking a hold of the mic that connected to his coms that ranged to base, speaking hardened than the brunette ever heard

“This is Bravo six, I want nurses on scene upon my arrival landing time ASAP. I have a member down… if I don’t see medical you won’t see a day of rest, private.” His voice fades out into the front of the helo with thundering steps that demand attention. Gaz kept a pointer and middle finger on your pulse point still counting the beasts as minutes pass, Soap felt short of helpfully useless, and when Ghost finally speaks up his voice is directed and sharp. Looking forward the two lower ranked hybrids one is checking over the other and they both look at him with attentive eyes

“What the hell happened in that building”

💌💌💌💌

“-nd she saved me” Your head is ringing and you can’t find it in you to peel your eyes open. The feeling of being heavily sedated yet pumped full of adrenaline at the same time, it felt so close to suffocation your body forces Itself into fight or flight. You're strapped to an average hospital bed with steel restraints, the cold metal on your hot skin not soothing you whatsoever. When your eyes peel open you eyes your vision is blurry you only make out blobbed figures until blinking a few times. A bright light is being shined in your face and you bare fangs at the person behind it.

“Stitch! Are you trying to lose a limb!? Back off!” The doctor barks at the dirty blonde nurse who flinches double, scrambling to get away from your bedside and out of her superiors way. Kyle is holding your hand at your right not caring if you’d scold him for being so worried all the time, Simon sits in a corner where he can see everything the medical team dies to you while also seeing who comes in and out of the door, John hovers reluctant with all medical staff —with that my team my concern mindset—, while Johnny stands beside Tank and Red near the door as they give the nurses their rundowns. You go to open your mouth only to be met with your vocal cords screaming at you in protest. The inability to speak makes you you groan that sounds more like a whine of a kicked puppy than anything

“I apologize, lieutenant. We believe it’s a side effect of the gunpowder in your bloodstream and we’re flushing you out as quickly as possibl-”

“Are there any updates to the status reports I requested?” You would have usually made fun of the dragons unusual impatience if you were in the comfort of his office; however you're in this cold, stale room that smells of too much bleach.

“Yes captain, the bullet is in fact meant to kill stronger hybrids. Once the hybrids are pierced with it there’s really no return for them, the gunpowder runs through the stream they become lucid quickly and all docile tendencies are forgotten. However, we suspect that that particular outburst from lieutenant y/l/n will be her only one because we’ve nailed down where it came from. We played around with time frames that lined up the best. You were shot and just before the ammo could burst with its gunpowder and spread the toxins through your stream you had fed blood to your lowerank to heal him.” The doctor cleared her throat before giving the room a much wanted update of your condition

“That doesn’t explain why she dropped ‘im like an old toy when Ghost’s blood was introduced.” Price spoke up too many gaps were missing for the brunette's taste as he ran a few fingertips through his short salt and pepper beard.

“I didn’t think such a… uncomfortable topic should be discussed as of right now” At the sound of reasoning Simon moves to stand messy bandaging over the he cuts having waved away the nurses who’d tried to attend to him —a little papercut shouldn’t not taken their attention off of you—. The room seemed significantly smaller when the lieutenant stood

“If opposing threats tread with those bullets we need to know everything about them. Nothing in this line of work is comfortable” His voice screamed demanding; demanding of attention, demanding of response, demanding of results. The middle aged woman visibly swallowed before speaking with a voice filled with discontent.

“With previous blood work of you three well, you all line back to lieutenant Y/l/n, or more precisely she lines back to you” Soaps ears perk up and so did his tail, fur rigid against the skin of it. He wants the brightest apple but he wasn’t the dullest pen either. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together but it sounded so off putting. You fed from them? He’d been around vampires before and you did show qualities of one, the fangs, the pitch black eyes when you fed, it was evidence and it was there… but you didn’t smell like one and seemed to have not even the slightest sensitivity to the sun. The mystery of it all killed him

If you weren’t a hybrid what the hell were you?

“Us, but it doesn’t make sense. She had me there could’ve bit into me” Gaz finishes for the medical agent brows furrowed once again the skin between them creased. The doctor nods while prying on a pair of blue latex gloves

“Doctors from both sides of base have been working on it for now, we believe it’s because you weren’t bleeding. It wasn’t potent enough for her to take interest in it. Our second guess? She was attracted to what or who she got done with last.” The room was silent, one heavy fog was replaced with another. No one speaks of what’s been revealed however you’re onto the next topic before you can dwell on it. The head doctor approaches you slowly, as if you were a skittish cat in the wild.

“I’m just gonna draw a little blood from you to run a few tests, make sure we didn’t miss anything.” You blink at her with sharp eyes and tense muscles when you see the size of the needle, not too much length enough to prick a vein the girth however made your hand twitch in Gaz’s palm. It even made the Scott want to tuck his tail with a wince.

“Hey. You’re alright, you’re fine, you hear me? You’re alright” Ghost had stepped up beside Price to your temporary bed, the heart monitor spikes and before you know it the needle is in your shoulder —meer meters away from the bullet wound that was mending itself at an inhuman speed—. You hiss jerking it away but the doctor is a good one and follows your quick motions successfully. Collecting enough blood in the clear syringe to send off to the labs. She quickly bandages your wound back confident, but not ignorant enough to linger around an upset hybrid.

“Test results should be back as soon as possible, in the meantime while lieutenant Y/l/n flushes the toxins out of her body the side effects of the bullet are still possible until further notice.”

“Which are?” The harpy huffs temper running unusually short, palm gripping your closed fist tighter —not enough to hurt but enough to notice a difference— a lick of tired at the woman’s shirt answers.

“Anything from spikes of heart rate, cold sweats, immense… hunger and most of all intense hallucinations. We think by the time her voice has returned most of the threat should be absent. All we can do is let it run its course, I’m sorry.” The brunette discards of her gloves and leaves the room idle. As much as you try to stay away your eyes droop low and are soon closed tight

💌💌💌💌

Soap sits next to your bedside, warm cup of coffee in hand, his eyes straining to look at the small tv mounted on the wall even though he wasn’t actively watching it. He had finally got Ghost to stretch his legs and go take a shower after three days of nothing but cold sweats and spikes of heart rate from you he decided his —other— lieutenant's heart needed a break. After much pestering, convincing, promising to stick by your side, and a little threat that summed up he wouldn’t think you would like to hear about him rotting next to your bedside the wraith finally took a leave after 72 hours.

“Kyle,” The Scott thought he was just imagining things at first or that it came from the Tv but as he stares at you for a while he realizes it was simply not true. He stared at your face for a while until you’re mumbling again and it pangs his chest a little. He didn't know any of you that well —didn’t know anyone except Price and Gaz really— but he still cared nonetheless it was in his nature.

“Simon, dont.” You’re starting to sweat again and your heart monitor is starting to beep. The werewolf moves to stand ringing for a nurse when it seems to get worse, your body is jerking and you keep mumbling in distress.

💌💌💌💌

You're walking up the stairs of some abandoned building, it's eerily chilly and there's really no light except for the dim overhead light on each floor you pass by that continues to flicker. The stairs and walls are concrete to match the walls and floors, you have your rifle pressed against you sweeping each floor swiftly with precision it could almost feel... normal. You reach the fifth floor and there's a stagger in your step. All of your privates lay dead in pools of their own blood like stuck pigs, hybrids and normals alike lie dead. After a spare moment you continue on to finish your mission as you were ordered to, as you were required to. The next floors to come are still filled with dead privates none lie peacefully, all gone in agony, too soon, you could read the tombstones now.

Your boots march almost rhythmically up three more floors and as they go by you are more and more desensitized to the bodies that sprawled the floor. You make it to the final story of the building and there's a door staring back at you, almost challenging you to open it and you take the duel with not the slightest bit of shake in your hand. The door opened with a loud whine at the unusual action and your riffle drops from your arms at the sight behind it.

You see your captain first, bucket hat that you always made fun of inches away from his body. His right horn that sits atop of his head looks damaged beyond repair and his neck is sliced open from ear to ear. Your breath is trapped in your throat and your body doesn't allow you to move. Your mentor, the reason you are where you are, your sacred captain, lies sliced like a sacrificial lamb. Your eyes trail away from the brunette's cold body and you wish they didn't, there lies your sergeant. One of the two full broad wings adorned with brown feathers are gone, singed away. Your sweet brown eyed boy stares at you voidly. There's no crease of his eyes to let you know he's smiling, no brightness to alert you of life, and the look of adoration he always gave you in particular that was taken for granted forever absent. You cradle his bruised face in your palm and this time you can't stop your tears from running downstream on your face.

"Kyle," Your voice cracks at the slightest utter of his name. You don't think you can say anything else or it'll mean it's true, it'll mean your captain and your sergeant are dead. You reluctantly stand a silent promise to come back to them both and make your way further in the room. You can see the back of a balaclava staring back at you and it helps you breathe better. You approach him with his callsign spilling from your lips. He looked to be hacking intel, just like your mission called for. You approach him putting a palm on his shoulder just for his head to fall limp and you could almost laugh. This had to be some cruel, sick, twisted, joke that should end any second now. It doesn't.

"Si get up right now, get the fuck up! GET UP SIMON!" Your body is trembling as you roughly shake his body, there's no response that comes from it hazel eyes rolled deep into the back of his head and you don't know which hurts worse. Your stomach churns when you gently lift the mask off his face to see toxins spreading through his veins up his neck. The best soldier, the strongest man you’ve met, your one and only, was dead.

💌💌💌💌

Put blood, sweat, and tears into this chapter because you guys deserve it

if you voted on my poll from the last chapter then you could see I used all prompts in this chapter except for one which we’ll deep dive into another day🤗

some have asked for a taglist so comment to be added

I hope you guys are having a wonderful year so far I love you and thank you for everything! -G

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hauerhoetime · 2 years

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It's Alright

Billy Hargrove x reader

Summary: the first time you patch Billy up :)

Also a reminder my requests are open!! Check out my pinned post for all that :))

It was a quiet night for you as you lay in bed with a tattered and well loved book in your hands. You've read it about a hundred times and you'll read it a hundred more. As you read and read your head floats up to the clouds the world around you disappears. You fall back into the story on the pages immersed completely as your eyes scan the page.

However you soon were ripped from your trance as there was a soft knock on your window. You turn your head to your open curtains to see your best friend Billy Hargrove standing with his head turned away.

Quickly you shoved a bookmark between the worn pages of your book, tossing it aside. You rose from your bed and tore your window open with a smile on your face.

"Hey Billy what's goin' on?"

He turned to finally face you and immediately your smile fell. He was bruised and had a bloody nose and lip. His eyes seemed to be fighting off the water that collected on his lower lash line as he wordlessly looked at you.

"Oh Billy," your voice came out quiet and breathy as your eyes began to water much like his.

Seeing your eyes become glossy and your smile fall as you look at him absolutely broke his heart. He wished he could simply just kiss your worries away. He wished every day that he was able to take you and get out of Hawkins; run far away laughing and smiling and never look back. Instead he was stuck here standing right outside your window freshly beaten up as you take a second to let the sight sink in.

You rushed aside so he had room to crawl in through your window before saying a rushed and mumbled "Come on in Billy. Need to patch you up."

The climb through your window only took a second or two at most and once he was in your room his attention was once again fully yours. "Oh no sweetheart you don't need to patch me up I just needed to see you," he spoke quietly with an extra rasp to his voice.

You simply threw a glare his way before you grab his arm gently to pull him towards your bathroom. You didn't even take your first step before he speaks again "ah ah ah shoes," and when you turn back to face him he's carefully toeing his boots off. You watch him as he picks up his boots that he just kicked off before he carefully places them on the floor right beside your window.

Once he is finished he looks back up at you and lifts his hand slightly in your direction. Your smile was slightly pained as you gently took his hand. Billy hated the pain in your smile. He wasn’t smiling at all before seeing yours but somehow his face fell more. He squeezes your hand in his before you turn to drag him to the bathroom.

“Sit down” you mumble pointing to the closed toilet. The scene wasn’t glamorous but it would do. You opened the cupboard and began rummaging for the first aid kit. As you dug through the cupboard the reality of the situation hit you. Someone hurt Billy and he came to you. When he was in his most vulnerable moment he chose to see you. The thought brought the tears you have been fighting to fall. You finally find the first aid kit and emerge from the cupboard.

Billy sits down and then he looks over at you to see the handful of tears on your cheeks and before he can even think to stop himself he carefully grabs your elbow, pulling you in between his knees. You are looking at the floor trying to avoid his eyes; not noticing that he was moving his hands till they landed on your cheeks.

“Don’t cry,” he rasped out, “please don’t cry.”

“I’m sorry I’m trying not to” your voice shakes and he begins to wipe the tears away. You reach up to grab one of his wrists just simply as a way to ground yourself. You close your eyes as you try and steady your shaking breath; focusing on Billy’s thumbs as they run across your face just below your eyes.

“Everything is alright I got you” He whispers out as he looks up at you.

“Billy I’m not crying for me,” you huff out almost in a laugh. You couldn’t believe this boy couldn’t understand why you were crying, “I’m crying for you”

“Oh sweetheart don’t cry for me” as he spoke you finally looked up and saw the tears were about to fall from his eyes.. He looked as if someone had just shattered his whole world.

"Who did this to you Billy?" You whispered.

His face drained of color at that question and his eyes grew hazy as if he wasn't in this room with you but instead three thousand miles away.

"Don't worry about that sweetheart I'm alright" he finally spoke after several beats of silence.

"But I am worried Billy, I'm worried about you" your eyebrows furrowed as you spoke. You finally turned to reach for the first aid kit that was left abandoned on the bathroom counter.

"I'm sorry" Billy's hands fell from your face in favor of resting gently on your hips. The touch felt more intimate than either of you expected but it felt right. The touch was bringing the both of you some much needed comfort.

"Don't be sorry" you pulled out a wipe and began cleaning the blood off his face as gently as you could. "I'd rather you be here and make me worried so I can patch you up and know you're alright at the end of the day. I don't like the idea of you alone out there somewhere. I would worry more."

After you finished speaking, silence filled the room for well over a minute. It wasn't uncomfortable by any means; it felt peaceful. This felt like the first moment of true peace since he knocked on your window. He was the first to end this silence and when he did he spoke so quietly you almost didn't hear him.

"Want me to come by anytime I get hurt?"

"Please do Billy, I wanna help you" you looked him in the eyes as you basically begged him.

"Alright" he nodded as he squeezed your hips in his hands.

You smiled slightly and went back to looking at his busted lip. There wasn't much you could do and it wasn't even that bad but it still had you fussing over him. You run your thumb over his lip one last time and sigh before turning to pack up the first aid kit and put it all away under the sink once again.

"There really wasn't much I could do other than clean you up" you frown at the thought of not being able to help him fully.

"Thank you," he watched you put everything away and as you emerged from the cupboard once again he asked the question that had been on his mind since he knocked on your window. "Can I stay the night?"

"Please do" you turn to him and smile ever so slightly “I don’t think I’d ever forgive myself if left and something else happened”

Billy nodded and looked to his feet. How much you worried about him somehow warmed and shattered his heart at the same time. He didn’t want to cause a single bit of distress in your life. He wanted to make you forget all of the stress and make you feel nothing but joy and contentment. Yet here he was, the cause of your current worries.

“Billy…do you wanna try and go to bed?” you gently grabbed his hand trying to pull him out of his head.

He lifted his eyes up to your face and finally noticed how tired you looked. Your eyes were half closed and you seemed sluggish. “Yeah of course sweetheart let’s get you to sleep” he stood up, keeping his hold on your hand. He carefully pulled you along back to your bedroom.

Once the two of you arrived at your destination he wasted no time guiding you to your bed; you needed to rest. You wordlessly sat down and began watching Billy as he picked up the book you had abandoned on the bed. “Again?” he asked as he smiled for the first time tonight.

“Guilty is charged” You sheepishly replied as you flop back onto the mattress.

Billy chuckled watching you before turning his attention back to the worn book in his hands. He walked around your bed to the nightstand on what will end up being ‘his side’ of the bed and placed the book down. He’s read the book exactly once after much pressure from you. He wasn’t the biggest fan of the book but he'd cave and do anything you would ever ask of him.

“G’night Billy,'' you mumble as you bury your head in your pillow.

Billy looks over at you and his heart melts at the sight of you all cuddled up in your sheets. “Goodnight sweetheart, thank you for everything.” he whispered as you finally fell asleep.

@comfortcharactercraze

#x reader #fanfic #stranger things #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x you #billy harringrove #billy stranger things #stranger things fanfiction

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joels-shitty-puns · 6 months

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Pins and Needles - Chapter 5

Pairing: Post-Outbreak!Joel Miller x Reader

Series Summary: Joel has known you for several years, but it was always strictly business, which was easier and preferred. However, after you run into him in Jackson, avoiding him is more of a challenge than you'd like.

Series Warnings: 18+ only (MDNI). Alluding to sexual scenarios. Mention of masturbation. Kissing. Age gap, reader is 39/40 Joel is 56/57. Violence!!! This features outbreak day memories. Blood, stabbing, cannibalism, death, infected. An airplane crash. Spoilers from season 1 of TLOU HBO. Deaths from that season are mentioned. Nightmares. Angst/tension. Let me know if I missed anything!!

Other stuff: Reader is referred to by the nickname Needles, but other than that descriptors are avoided! Reader is fem.

This series was based on these two anon requests! Here and here

Series list: Here

Word count: 1.2k

Patrolling with Tommy went relatively smooth, picking up supplies at a drugstore and fortunately not running into any trouble. It was only a half day journey when you returned, Tommy approving you for full duty as soon as possible. With Joel.

Walking through the gates to Jackson, you and Tommy went your separate ways, him walking over to where Maria stood near the gate, baby on her hip, waiting for him. When he reached his wife, his smile lit up his face. He placed a gentle kiss on her lips before grabbing the baby from her arms and kissing their child on the head. It made your heart sting and you looked away, only to meet the gaze of Joel. You looked down, avoiding his eyes, and walked home. Alone.

The whole walk home, your mind drifted to Maria and Tommy, how happy they were to have each other. It made you long for the life you may have had if not for the outbreak. You felt silly getting upset over something so trivial as love in a time like this, but despite your best efforts, a stray tear managed to break past your defenses. You quickly swiped it away, like a cat with a Christmas ornament, and began to jog homeward. With the icy air nipping at your nose and lungs, at least you'd focus on how cold you were instead of your feelings. You hoped.

The run didn't seem to clear your head, but it wasn't long before you reached your doorstep. Twisting the key, you stepped inside and headed upstairs to shower before dinner. Maybe the shower would clear your thoughts.

_____

A half hour later, you were dressing in your warm coat and boots, heading out the door for dinner. But upon opening the door, you were met with Joel’s hand, reaching to knock on your front door. Fuck. What does he want? He's never done this, even in the QZ.

“Joel?” You asked, your breath practically knocked out of your lungs in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“Did I do somethin’? You've been here two weeks and I've barely seen ya. Everytime I do, you look away like you hate me,” he asked hurriedly. If you didn't know better you'd think he sounded hurt.

“No, you haven't done anything,” you finished, leaving any further questions for him to ask, but not for you to offer. Though you hoped the conversation would die.

“Okay.. then why are you avoiding me? I know we never really talked much before but y’never avoided me before. We're goin’ on patrol together tomorrow and every other shift, so we should clear any issues up now,” his softness died at the end of his reply, replaced with sternness in his tone. But he didn't scare you. Not until he reached out to touch your shoulder.

Your body tensed, not used to the feel of a gentle hand, and having been so touch-starved for the past 20 years. As much as your body wanted to lean into his touch and maybe experience more touch, craving the dopamine, you jerked away.

The look on your face must have spoken a thousand words, because he pulled his hand away quickly, showing that tinge of sorrow in his eyes for only a flicker before his mouth set in a firm line.

“No issues Joel. Like you said, we never really talked much before. That always seemed easier,” you replied before adding in a whisper you weren't even sure you wanted Joel to hear, “closeness only results in painful deaths.”

His eyes met yours and you wonder if he heard you. Instead of responding, he gave a single nod and turned on his heel, heading out into the snow.

You can't help but feel a pang of guilt settling deep in your stomach. This isn't what you wanted. Feelings…

You take a deep breath and step into the snow by your front step, your boots crunching on the sleet. Folding your hands in your pockets, you make your way to the town cafeteria for dinner, wondering what you can do to fix this situation with Joel.

Should you fix this situation with Joel? Maybe some distance would do some good.

_____

All throughout the meal, you could feel Joel's eyes darting over to you. You wanted nothing more than to leave this building and walk back home, but Tommy told you that you wouldn't be served food if you only took it to your house again, to eat alone.

So instead you chose to eat alone in the cafeteria, a table by yourself, watching everyone else sit with loved ones. Maybe you were making the wrong decision by closing yourself off. But when you first received help from another survivor after outbreak day, it was the advice you were given. Keep your distance.

_____

After the plane crash, your ears rang and the plane was smoking, but you were alive and conscious. The pilots were okay, and you made your way to one of the few living members of this aircraft. The old lady who lent you her needles. She looked to be asleep and you hoped she wasn't dead.

“Ma'am?” You asked, walking over to her. She didn't respond, so you took a pulse. She was alive, and you gently shook her shoulder, making her come to.

She seemed okay, only slightly rattled and maybe a mild concussion at the worst. You were all lucky to have lived. But as you looked down at the needles still tightly gripped in your bloody hands, you felt your body start to shake and tears begin to well. You killed someone today. You killed other humans today. You were a murderer.

As you looked at the old woman, she set her frail hand on top of your unwrinkled fist, still gripping the needles tightly. Somehow, she seemed to understand completely, as she unwrapped your fingers from the needles. What were you supposed to do when you walked off this plane? They were insane, but you're the one who will be going to trial for murder.

You stepped off the plane, waiting to be met with police snipers and sirens blazing. But instead, the airport was completely empty. It was eerily quiet. What the hell was going on?

You walked into the terminal, where news flashed across every television. People were in a panic and banging on the doors of the airplane entrances. Turning to the television, you were met with the answers you searched for. An infectious disease that turns people into a host for a fungus. Resulting in a complete loss of humanity until you were simply a shell, doomed to suffer at the will of the fungus.

Moving to the nearest payphone, you dialed your family, only to reach voicemail. You called again and left a voicemail. You called again and hung up. You called again and received a busy sound. Your stomach twisted in a knot at the worry that something may have happened to your family.

Eventually you did hear the truth of your family. They were gone. Some were infected. Some were killed by other dangers. But gone. All gone.

After that loss, the loss of other survivors and friends, you decided to take the advice of that one survivor and never get close.

But that was before you met Joel.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #a! wrote a fic #joel miller #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x afab!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #tlou fanfiction #tlou fanfic #tlou #tlou fic

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chvoswxtch · 1 year

Note

Can I order an old fashioned for Joel Miller, pretty please? I NEED to know your thots!

i'm not sure if you wanted thots on something in particular or just on joel himself so-

i'm just gonna slut this man out below the cut, cheers 🥂

this old fashioned is garnished with jalepeño (minors dni)

thots below the cut

austin's favorite dilf: joel miller

joel is a very busy guy. we see that from the very beginning that he's constantly working, is never home on time, and then when the world goes to shit, there's not a whole lot of time for romance when you're trying to survive

that being said: joel miller is a fan of quickies (this goes for pre & post apocalyptic joel)

he's taking you ANY chance he gets

he just got home and found you still up waiting for him? he's making you ride his cock on the couch with his hand clamped over your mouth so you don't wake up sarah

he woke up before his alarm for once and you're in the kitchen making breakfast? he's fucking you from behind over the kitchen counter, furiously rubbing at your clit to get you to come because he hears tommy's heavy footsteps coming downstairs

he doesn't even always need to fuck you, sometimes he just needs to feel you

you've got fifteen minutes before you need to leave for work? he's got you captive in the closet, slipping his hand up your skirt and between your thighs to make you come all over his fingers, whispering apologies and promises into your ear

"I know, baby. I know. just let me take care of you right quick. i'll take you out soon, I promise. I know I said we'd have a night just us last weekend, i'll make it happen this week. now c'mon, let me have it."

he loves when you join him in the shower, because it usually results in you ending up on your knees, and the flow of the water from the shower head dulls his moans that echo off the tile

"fuck, babygirl. keep goin'...please. almost there...just-shit. like that...yeah, fuck just like that. shit, baby...i'm gonna come."

but movie nights are his favorite, because tommy and sarah always fall asleep on the floor twenty minutes in, and underneath the blanket draped over your laps, your hand inevitably ends up down joel's jeans, and he has to bite his knuckles to keep himself quiet, subtly shifting his hips upward with every lazy tug of your hand on his hard cock

but when the two of you do finally have time to spare?

oh he is using every second to his full advantage

he spends over half an hour with his head between your thighs, using his tongue to wordlessly thank you for every rushed handjob and blowjob you treated him to this week

he pins you to the mattress beneath his body, one hand cradling your face so that he can look into your eyes, slowly moving his hips against yours, allowing you both to feel everything

quickies with joel are usually rough and hurried, and he's usually having to take you from behind, so when he does get to take his time with you, he likes to fuck you sweetly and slowly, showing you with his body just how much he loves you

#joel miller #joel miller headcannon #joel miller thots #joel miller request #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #court's 2k friends celebration #court's 2k follower celebration

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purelyfiction · 2 years

Text

All Fun & Games ♧♤♡♢ 3.1

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x F!Reader |1| 2 | 3.2

Word Count: 5,335 words

Summary: In a rather spontaneous fashion, Bob has invited you to take a glimpse into his routine - one that you don’t normally get a good look at while up in the air.

Content Warning: This story will have TopGun: Maverick plot line elements to it and will possibly spoil the movie for you. Please be aware. This - and all of my stories - is 18+. By continuing to read you agree that you are 18 or older and that any content you come across is by your own decision. || Mild NSFW subjects

Author Note: .... don’t hate me. This has taken such a long, long time to get out because of work, life - so many things kept piling up. Thank you so so so much for your patience, I think it was early July the last time I updated, so this is long awaited. And because of that - I’ve double updated. This chapter has an extension to it, since I am a madwoman and can’t stay under 8k words and ended up writing nearly 11k words for one part. So, please enjoy more Bob x Vegas content - and please please thank @callsignthirsty and @deadratio for being my editors, sounding boards and generally great friends. You’ll likely see them again soon. Without further adieu: All Fun & Games - Part 3.1

Attention: If you would like to be on the tag list please see the pinned post on my blog for the document. If you’re not able to access it please message me, I rarely find any tag requests in my notifications!

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Bob simply told you to go home and change into an old pair of jeans, a shirt you can sweat in and closed toed shoes. And that he’d eventually be over. So, you did just that despite the 99 degree heat wave North Island is going through. You can’t help but think he’s going insane when he shows up to your door wearing double denim. A stark brown cowboy hat sits on his head, making his gold aviator frames shine in the late morning light.

The jean jacket on his shoulders is worn, and so are the jeans on his hips. Rugged and thoroughly loved cowboy boots sit on his feet. “You look like a right cowboy,” you offer with a smirk as you shut the door behind you, engaging the automatic lock on the door.

“We’re goin’ ridin’, I’d hope so,” he snickers, hands in his pockets as he turns. When you begin down the path, you spot his vehicle in the street. Bob had showed up to pizza night after dark, and the street was very poorly lit - meaning you’d not seen what he’d driven there.

Which is why it takes you aback to see a midnight black silverado at the end of your driveway. “You drive a truck?” you ask, raising an eyebrow in surprise as he approaches the vehicle, looking back at you.

“I’m dressed like a cowboy and you really think I ain’t gon’ be driving a vehicle that matches?” he retorts, before reaching the passenger door and opening it. Bob offers his hand to you, which you hesitantly take before climbing in. He shuts the door before he gets to his side and you can’t help but find the entire interaction... charming.

Once he’s in the cabin, you smile at him. “Maybe I should’ve seen it coming the second you showed me photos of a horse when I woke up this morning,” you tease as he’s starting the engine.

“The signs were all there,” he jokes as he pulls from the curb. It’s not until you’re pulling out of your housing plan that you notice he’s seemingly driving from memory. Another 15 minutes pass before you’re in winding streets, only to pull into a very small parking lot.

“This does not look like a stable, Bo,” you point out and he gives you a look. What he’s pulled up to looks like a red and silver classic bullet diner, neon lights and all. The lot isn’t very full but it looks like there’s a lot of people from what you can see from the wide windows.

“What an astute observation, Lieutenant.” He gives a snicker before opening his door. Bob’s nearly halfway out his own before he sees you try for your own. “Don’t you even think about it.” He gives a pointed finger before shutting his door, making you laugh while he’s dashing around the front of the truck, coming over and opening your door. With a waiting hand, he helps you out and the door swings back to the closed position.

“Thank you. I… don’t remember the last time someone opened a car door for me,” you admit as he waits for you to head to the diner building, a hand coming to the small of your back as he walks a little way behind you.

“I can. It was last night,” Bob points out and you laugh thinking about being leant over the console of your car, attempting to reach the other door handle from the driver’s side.

“It was, wasn’t it?” You can’t wipe the smile off your face as he moves to pull the door open, a bell ringing above you as you pass through what seems to be the entrance to a time machine. There’s classic black and white tile through the entire building, as small as it is, neon red leather booth seats, a classic milkshake machine down the bartop - a jukebox at the end of the narrow aisle that’s been created.

The diner is absolutely bustling, almost every seat is filled, despite the few cars that adorned the parking lot. As you wait to be seated, your wandering eyes fall on a row of familiar machines. “I haven’t seen these in years,” you reminisce before crouching down to look at the little red capsule vending machines.

They haven’t been filled in some time - at least from what you can assume, as many of them are nearly empty. You’re looking over a novelty one when you hear the clinking of metal on metal. Turning your head, you find Bob cranking the knob to one of the dispensers, his hand sitting at the bottom of the chute, waiting for his purchase to come tumbling down. Orange, brown and yellow candies tumble into his palm, a childlike grin on his features as he stands upright.

“Reese’s Pieces at 9 in the morning?” you scold, watching him make a funnel with his hands and letting them fall into his mouth.

“What?” He snickers, mouth full as he chews at the candy. With a shake of your head you’re turning your attention back to the machines in front of you. A laugh leaves you when you spot a range of incredibly poorly made necklaces.

“Look!” you laugh pointing at one of them, making Bob crouch down to look at the panel wedged into the glass. “There’s a bull - it would complete your outfit,” you tease, standing upright as he takes a closer look. A quick glance around the restaurant, you’re finding the bathroom and excusing yourself.

When you return, you find Bob with at least a dozen plastic bubble containers, making you laugh as he wedges yet another quarter into the machine.

“Bob! What on Earth are you doing?” you question, crouching down again, picking up a few of the bubbles. You’re looking at each of them, finding a skull and crossbones, a motorcycle, a dagger - Bob huffs when the next container tumbles out.

“Ah! Finally.” He lets out a laugh and stands up, making you follow suit and step closer to him as he pops the lid off the plastic, pulling the metal from the container. “Turn around.” He’s got a wild grin on his face, but you turn so your back is facing him. In a matter of seconds, he’s pulling the chain around your neck, doing up the clasp in the back. Your fingers pick up the charm, quickly identifying it.

A bull.

As you let out a laugh, you hear Bob’s last name through the waiting area and are quick to follow the older woman hostess to a seat. You approach a booth and are quick to slide in on one side as a menu is offered to you. “Robert, are you gonna need one as well, or the usual this morning?”

Your eyes look toward his face as he grins at the woman. “No, same thing for me this morning, Diana. Coffee - for both of us?” He says it more like a question as he wags a finger in the air, grouping the pair of you together.

“Alrighty, I’ll get Paisley on that right away. Take your time, dear.” You give an appreciative smile at the woman before looking over at the WSO across the table, who’s already peeled his hat off the top of his head, setting it on the seat next to him. His hair is a wild mess, which makes you take a deep breath as you try to gather the sentence that had been on the tip of your tongue - now suddenly gone at the sight of the male in front of you.

Finally, it springs back to its launchpoint on your lips.

“You really come around here frequently, don’t you?” you quip with a smirk, and he shrugs.

“Sort of. The riding thing is newer but - I used to come here a lot back when I was at TOPGUN the first time. One of my good friends and I spent a lot of time in these booths - and a lot on syrup and coffee.” Bob snickers but there’s something lingering in his words that rings somewhat insincere.

You choose not to prod, smiling in return before looking down to the menu. As you’re still reading over the options, a black haired woman approaches with an all too eager grin. “Bobby! It’s about time you were here for the morning, I was beginning to worry you weren’t going to show.” She grins, setting a mug down on the table complete with milk and sugar. Bob greets her in return, a quick glance is sent your direction when he realizes she hasn’t brought a mug for you.

“Me not show? Unlikely,” he hums. “You’ve not met my colleague,” Bob continues in his introduction of you, wherein Paisley gives a very cold fake smile.

“Pleasure, Lieutenant. Guess I forgot your mug, didn’t I? Let me grab that. Do you know what you want since I’m on the way in?” You’re giving her your order - leaving her to snatch the menu from your hands and make her way back to the kitchen window.

“Well she’s… pleasant,” you suggest and Bob shrugs.

“Must be having a rough morning. She’s usually a right sweetheart.” He shrugs and sips at his already prepped coffee, which makes you furrow your brows.

“You must be here a lot if she knows how you take your coffee…” you offer, receiving a shrug in response.

“I’ll stop in sometimes during the week or grab dinner when the mess hall is less than appetizing. But I’m usually only here on Sunday’s before going to the stables.”

“Understandable.” You hum, leaning onto your hands that are propped up by your elbows on the table while meeting his eye. Bob mimics the stance, which doesn’t seem natural on him - making you laugh. He’s joining in as well before you start asking a question: “Not to be weird but: What’s your favorite color?”

Bob gives a chuckle before he taps the leather of the seat he’s sitting on. “You’re looking at it. I haven’t been able to figure why, but red is just such a… vibrant color. It makes me think of home. My pap’s ranch — well my uncle Dale’s ranch, now — has this massive red barn and a few dozen cows to boot. I spent my summers there, like I said, so I have fond memories of that red shining in Tennessee July. That and apple picking in the fall. My momma planted a few apple trees on our acreage in Georgia and she makes the best apple pie with them. It’s funny, seein’ we’re the peach state and all.”

Your laugh pairs with his before dancing through the metal and linoleum of the diner, only to be stomped out as Paisley returns with a mug and fills it with coffee for you. “There’s cream and sugar on the table. Bobby, your food should be out soon. I put hers in a minute ago so it’ll be here… eventually.”

“Thanks, Paise.” A grin from the brunette, the woman exchanging one and dismissing herself from the table without another word. You let out a sound of astonishment and he furrows a brow at you as he sips his coffee.

“It’s like I don’t exist when she shows up,” you point out and Bob shakes his head as he swallows.

“I don’t think, she’s just doing her job,” he offers as you fix your coffee.

“It wouldn’t kill her to be a little nicer,” you mumble once your mug is to your lips. “Anyways. Tell me more about this ‘acreage’ of yours. You guys have a farm in Georgia?”

Bob shakes his head as he shifts in the booth. “No. I mean, momma has chickens but that’s about it. There’s a good 10 acres at minimum. At least a quarter of it has a line of wooded area. Land is a big deal in the south for some reason. Our house is this massive farmhouse built in the seventies, and most of us have moved out. Rylie is the only one still there.”

“Rylie?” you question, your gaze taken by a passing truck with a trailer hitch attached to it. You must be somewhat close to the stables. That paired with the countless farm hands around you, you had to assume.

“Youngest of 5,” he answers, leaving your eyes to widen.

“You have four siblings?” Your jaw slides to open your mouth as he nods.

“Sisters, to be exact. I’m the oldest, then there’s Robyn, she’s 13 months younger than me. We’re jokingly referred to as the twins since we were raised so close to one another. Rowan was born in ‘93, so she’s 27, Raine at 25, leaving us with Rylie who’s 16.” Bob sips at his coffee again, your hands twirling the mugs bottom on the table it rests on as you listen.

“That’s…. A gap.” You kindly point out and he snickers as he sets his mug down.

“She was a bonus kid. Momma said she was done having kids and then… Ry-guy came along.” You click your tongue, sitting in silence for a minute before you point out the obvious.

“All Rs,” you hum, and he sighs.

“Was hoping you wouldn’t point that one out.” Bob stretches back against the leather, leaving you to tilt your head.

“Why’s that?”

“It always follows with ‘is your mom Rebecca and your dad Robert Senior?’” He fiddles with the silverware on the table.

“Well, are they?” He smiles as he sees your expression of intrigue and shakes his head.

“Johnathan and Kelly.” A laugh breaks out and you have to cover your mouth.

“Sorry, sorry - so what the hell is with all the Rs?” You can’t wipe the stupid grin on your face as he grins with an air of discontent on his shoulders. Clearly you’re not the first one to ask.

“My granddad on my dad’s side is named Robert - so I’m technically jr, but he’s not around that often. He lives in a retirement plan in Florida. As for the Rs, I was named after granddad, and then they had Robyn. So when Rowan was born they… just kept goin’.”

“It’s kinda cute,” you admit as Bob goes for another sip of coffee only to realize his cup is empty. He shrugs as he reaches across the table, sneaking your mug away from you as Paisley approaches with a coffee carafe in hand. He’s still mid sip when both of you look at the dark haired woman.

“You could’a asked for more coffee, Bobby,” Paisley notes as the male returns your mug and she takes his to fill it.

“Eh, don’t worry about it, coffee tastes better from Vegas’ cup anyways,” he teases with a grin, making you giggle.

“I see. Well, food will be here soon,” Paisley mumbles before turning back toward another table, making you look to him with a look of ‘is she ok?’ and Bob waves you off as he fixes his coffee. In the time it takes to finish his task, a food runner is dropping off a meal of waffles, bacon and eggs in front of your coworker, making him grin and thank the employee.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom and washup, ‘kay?”

“Sounds good.” You confirm as he gets up, passing Paisley on the way to the bathroom as she stops at your table to check your coffee.

“So, how long have you been together?” she asks bitterly as she fills your mug to the top. You freeze at the question, your head moving back and forth.

“I- We aren’t-”

“He’s flirted with you since the minute you stepped foot into the diner. I knew I heard your name before. You’re the Vegas chick that Diana keeps mentioning when she waits on him. She asks him every week how things are going with you two, and he always says you two aren’t dating but I get it. Work probably doesn’t like the idea of you two together-”

“Paisley, right?” You clear your throat and look her in the eye. “Bo-Robert and I aren’t dating.” The nickname leaves you first, leaving you to correct yourself. “It really isn’t any deeper than just a good pair of friends who happen to work together.”

The woman in front of you lets out a laugh and shakes her head. “Friends don’t spend three seventy five on a capsule machine for a toy necklace, but you keep telling yourself that.” Paisley then disappears as quick as she appeared, leaving you to your thoughts.

People in this diner knew who you were. Which meant Bob had been openly talking to people about you. What had he been saying? Was it bad? You’re tugged from any questions as Diana reappears with your plate.

“You’re paler than a ghost, are you alright?” she asks as she sets your dish down. You nod and grin at her with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. She notices, but she doesn’t dare prod you further.

“Yep, yeah, I’m good.” Your brow furrows and you’re about to ask a question when Bob slides back into the booth.

“I’m so excited about these waffles, Di. I’ve been thinking about them all week.” He beams at the woman and she lets a hand hover over her chest as you start at your meal.

“Well that just made my day. You’re a charmer Robert.” She then looks over at you. “Watch out for this one.”

“I certainly will,” you fire back as Diana starts off, leaving you to watch the childlike joy on Bob’s face as he tears into his breakfast.

════⋆★⋆════

With full stomachs, you’re headed back to Bob’s truck and pulling onto the road. He’s got his window down so there’s a refreshing breeze in the truck. As the wind flows, it makes the wispy bits of Bob’s hair that stick out from under his hat flit about.

Eventually, he turns onto a gravel road that leads down toward a large building and a small parking lot. As you climb out of the cab, Bob’s grabbing a brown bag from beside him, making you tilt your head.

“What’s that?” you ask with curiosity, as he leads the way toward the stables.

“A little somethin’. Don’t fret your pretty head about it.” Bob glances over his shoulder as he guides you to an open barn door. You smile at him, despite the way your stomach is flipping at the words.

Just friends. Just friends.

Between the cracked concrete and the rusted lock hatches, you're sure the stable has seen better days, but it smells well loved and lived in. Like home away from home. You try to take it all in while keeping up with Bob's over-eager steps down a poorly-lit hallway. There are multiple people tending to stalls and carrying feed, and you give them all an awkward small smile and a wave, not sure what else to do with your hands. They usually reciprocate a smile in return - many of them have not so subtly taken notice of your incredibly white shoes, their low chuckles telling you that they won’t remain white for long. Part of you is self conscious as you pass people, and it must be clearly written across your face, because when Bob turns to see you lagging behind, he stops and waits for you. Once you’re at his side, he carefully takes your hand in his and looks you in the eye. “Hey, what’s the matter?” His grip is reassuring, but you shrug it off.

“I’m fine.” You wave him off with a smile but he’s already trying to find a solution.

“No ma’am, you are not.” He turns to face you as someone passes by with a quick ‘morning Bob’. He greets them with a smile but grabs their attention. “Can I ask somethin’ of ‘ya?”

“Sure thing.” The woman pockets her hands, smiling at you before looking at Bob.

“This is my friend’s first time ridin’,” he looks to you to confirm and you nod, “is there anything you can suggest that will help her confidence?” Bob asks.

The woman gives you an assessing once-over before she starts on her soapbox. “Well, for starters, she could get a heartier shoe on her foot. Somethin’ with a heel and steel toes. Or at least more protection than fabric. Those sneakers won’t offer nearly the same protection as a boot. As for the horses themselves, they’re more nervous than you. A first time rider like yourself should ride a well-broken horse.” She then turns to Bob, “who were you going to take out for her?”

“I was thinkin’ Goldrush? She’s pretty even tempered, there was a six year old ridin’ with her last week,” Bob offers, tilting his head in what you assume to be Goldrush’s general direction. His hand is still in yours, somewhat playfully rocking in the air as he continues his conversation with this stable hand. The feeling is reassuring while simultaneously strange.

“That’s probably your best bet. I know Heeler and Levi were just out, so they’re probably darn tired and wouldn’t stand another ride.” Bob gives a nod and thanks the woman by name - Jennifer you think it was? You were too focused on the curious head poking out of the stall to your right, making you grin. Soon, Bob is guiding you to a wall that’s filled with lockers that have seen better days. He’s grabbing his keys from his pocket and opening one up, old and nearly peeling duct tape over the door with black Sharpie scrawled across the front:

R. Floyd

It’s funny how six letters could make you break out in such a childish smile.

Yet here you were, watching as the cowboy next to you opens his locker (a rather messy one at that) looking around for something.

“What’s your shoe size?” He looks up at you from his squatted position, a rouge boot in his hand.

“You’re going all stalker on me, Floyd.” You tease, looking down at the boot. Luckily, the boot was a half size bigger than your own, making you look at him as he guides you to a seat nearby. “Do I wanna know who these shoes belong to?”

“First off, they’re boots. Get it right.”

“Sorry, sorry. Whose boots are these?”

He has a wild smirk on his face, shaking his head as he undoes your laces on your sneakers. “They’re Robyn’s. She left them here back when I was in Leemore,” Bob answers before looking up at you, one knee to the ground as he tugs the shoe off your foot. “I’m not tryin’ to be a dick you know. My name’s not Seresin.”

An astonished laugh leaves you as he starts to get your other shoe off, a rather proud expression painted on his features. “Oh yeah? So what’s the difference, cowboy?” you hum, watching as he undoes your laces and shifts onto his other knee to toss your still-white Nikes into his locker.

“Well most notably, they’re leather. But, I reckon you already knew that.” He snickers, carefully taking the back of your calf, guiding your foot into the boot and shuffling it in for you. When your foot finally sinks in, it’s damn comfortable. “The boot has more protection to keep your calves from chafing against the side of the horse, and the heel keeps your foot in the stirrup. And, well - if a hoof ends up misplaced on your toes, they’re better protected.”

Your eyes widen at the last one and he taps your knee in reassurance as he slides the other shoe on.

“It’s never happened to me and I’ve been ridin’ for years. Just a precaution, V.” When your feet are secure in the boots, he’s standing upright and taking your hands to guide you onto your feet, like you were a newborn calf learning to walk. “They feel good?”

“I get why you wear boots now,” you admit as your feet shuffle along the dirt floor. They’re hugging your foot comfortably, and barely have any shift to them, keeping them in place. When you look back up at him, he’s grinning ear to ear.

“Now you’re a right cowgirl.” He’s beaming and you can’t help the reflected smile on your face. With his hand still in yours again, he’s shutting his locker and leading the way out of the barn like structure, out to a gravel path and toward another barn. When he opens the door, you find nearly a dozen horses in their own respective stalls. “Welcome to the stable.”

Bob begins to lead you down, introducing you to each horse, a few of them getting nose and ear scratches from the back seater. It’s not until you’re in front of a stall with a white and brown horse who’s bouncing their head excessively and whinnying at the sight of your coworker.

“And here’s the man of the hour,” he cheers, pulling his face away as the horse excitedly tries to lick at him. “Easy, Cop, easy.” He chuckles with a greeting pet to the side of the horse’s neck. Bob’s handing you the bag he’s been carrying around. “Open that for me?”

When you do, you’re greeted by a cinnamon sugar coated pastry, which Bob pulls from the bag still in your hand.

“This is what you’re after, ain’t it buddy?” He holds the donut up in the air, the horse sniffing along, lips moving in an effort to grab the snack in Bob’s hands. He’s teasingly keeping it just out of the poor animal’s reach.

“Bo, stop mocking him,” you admonish with a laugh, leaving Bob to cave and feed the treat to the white and brown spotted animal. As Copper’s teeth bite into the fried dough, he notices the bag in your hand. You have to reach out with your spare hand to stop his muzzle from entering the bag and stealing another treat.

“Hey!” you laugh, gingerly pushing his snout from the brown paper. “I don’t think both of these are for you, pal,” you hum, using your knuckles to gently rub his forehead.

“Unfortunately not,” Bob confirms, before pointing out a tan horse a few stalls down. “That’s Goldrush. The other donut’s for her. We can feed her and then I’ll get her saddled, we’ll get her in the pen, and then we can grab Copper.”

Bob leads you to Goldrush, and teaches you how to feed her — palm flat, fingers together, thumb tucked against the side of your hand. She’s so calm, happily letting you pet her as Bob starts to layer on tack to get her ready. The brunette is carefully teaching you about each layer: the saddle pad, the saddle, the girth, and bridle. As he moves about the stall, you can see the sweat begin to bead on his forehead. He’s eventually shrugging off his denim jacket, leaving him in a long sleeve linen shirt with countless stains on it. He’s pushing the sleeves up his forearms and getting back to the task at hand. Now your attention has shifted from the tack equipment and all their names, to the way his muscles flex with the tightening of clasps, the sheer strength needed to lift the saddle up and over the horse, the spots of his shirt that have changed color with moisture-

You realize he’s said something, which makes you startle back to attention and look at him with eyes and ears open.

“Huh?” you prompt, seeing his outreached hand holding the reins.

“You wanna walk her to the pen?” Hesitantly, you take the leather leeds from his hand and begin to guide the horse from her stall - with Bob’s help. “Look at you, you’re a natural.” He’s clearly teasing you, based off of the smirk on his features, you roll your eyes.

“Open the gate, Floyd.”

“Yes ma’am.”

It doesn’t take long for Bob to get Copper ready, but once he’s done, the WSO is drenched in sweat, which certainly doesn’t go unnoticed. You’re not sure if he can tell, but there is a burning to your skin that you’re absolutely certain isn’t from the sun.

Bob recommends that you take a few laps around the enclosure before you head to a trail, just to make sure you’re comfortable, and Goldrush is letting you be her passenger. You’re attempting to navigate the task of mounting up when Bob rushes over, pulling a pair of gloves on.

“Here, wait.” Soon enough, the WSO’s hands are on your waist. “At the count’a three, jump.” With one foot in the stirrup, you’re nodding at his instructions. As he counts, you bounce your knees, before jumping up, Bob’s arms helping you up as you pull yourself up and over the width of the saddle.

“Hey! Look at that!” you cheer, looking down at Bob who’s grabbing ahold of the reins in leathered gloves.

“How’s the weather up there?” he chides as he begins to step with Goldrush along the wooden fence, helping you get used to the motion - you’re holding on to the horn of the saddle as you shift side to side which each step Goldrush takes.

“Hah hah. You should drop out of the Navy and go on a comedy show,” you taunt with a smile.

“I know, such wasted potential.” Bob smiles up at you before reaching up to hand the reins over. “You feelin’ okay up there, darlin’?”

You swear you had an answer. All the way up until darlin’ in that damn drawl flies off his lips. It’s like a Rubrik’s cube was scrambled just as you were about to solve it - and now you’re being timed to get all the colors right.

“Ugh, yeah, yeah. I’m good.” You hesitantly take the straps from his hands.

“Glad to hear it. So let’s work on steering.”

With a quick lesson under your belt, Bob is climbing up on Copper’s back and starting to navigate you both from the pen toward a path just off the grounds of the stables. The path is a dirt path that starts up the base of the nearby hill - or was it a mountain?

Either way it had some elevation to it and both horses breezed over it. There were trees littered along the path, but they gave way to glimpses of the ocean nearby.

“How often are you on this path?” You’re shouting so Bob can hear you up head on the trail. He turns to look at you from over his shoulder.

“At least once a week. There’s not many paths near here that are horse accessible, so we’re pretty limited,” he explains and you nod. You’re taking in your surroundings, trying to focus on staying in the saddle, your knuckles gripping the leather of the horn as you continue to climb further up the trail path.

“How are you so rigid on this thing? I feel like I’m sliding with every step.” Bob glances at you again and kicks his legs out at his sides.

“Hug the horse with your legs. You should be moving your body with her head. Horses move their entire body when they walk. So you’ve gotta move with them.” He’s faced forward again and you’re watching the way he’s riding, trying to figure out what he means.

You’re not easily distracted, but there’s something in the way thatBob’s hips seem to bounce with each trot Copper takes that has your head in the clouds. You swear if you knew the way back, you and Goldrush would’ve been running back to the stables, but you don’t, so your skin is hot and you hope Bob’ll just blame it on the heat.

The two of you mingle in light conversation, taking in sights and listening to Bob’s stories about his grandfather’s ranch. Getting to know him has been a big part of the weekend, and there’s a mental list you’ve been running:

Tequila and Robert don’t mix

He doesn’t wear pajamas

He’s a cowboy

He drives a truck

The man is ripped

He’s a true gentleman

He has lots of siblings

You’re certain the list will continue to grow the more you’re around him, and frankly, you’re not too mad about it.

════⋆★⋆════

Did you enjoy this? Consider buying me a coffee!

@luckyladycreator2 @queengeek487

@discoseal @that-cute-stranger @caswinchester2000 @inglourious-imagines @ssaic-jareau @kana-austin @mochminnie @kyleed24 @americaarse @thesunsetphantoms @not-leaprvt @gayforsteve @turningtoclown @nyotamalfoy @alainabooks143 @sodonebruh @winteroqers @hay-9105 @straightforwardly @luckyladycreator2 @marchingicenotes7 @maggiescarborough @startterfly @pheonist

#bob x reader #bob floyd x reader #robert floyd x reader #robert x reader #bob x vegas #bob x f!reader #bob floyd x f!reader #robert floyd x f!reader #top gun fic #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick

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panicatthediaz · 1 year

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Holy shit I am alive! Well, I'm just on Tumblr less, but I'm around. And I'm still writing!! If you couldn't guess by the not actual Sunday posting, I'm not ready to go back to regular posting. On top of on-a-whim WIPs I have at least one work project a week, and this week is my last week before finals for the semester :) somebody save me But I wanted to give y'all something, so this is it.

[Part 1] – [Part 10] – [Part 12]

@madaboutmunson @lamburrito @benjaminrussell @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @dijkstraspath @queerbuckleys @spectrum-spectre @epiclazershark @redheadchimechild @steddie-there @gayngerthings @manda-panda-monium (I... hope no one else changed their URLs for pride month 😂)

Pin a String to My Chest – 11

A song

When he started high school months ago, Eddie hadn't expected to find people that shared his interests for a while; he wasn't the oldest guy in the band, but the rest of Corroded Coffin still had to finish middle school, so he wasn't sure what to expect.

In the end, Ollie, their drummer, decided to drag him to a D&D session, and the rest was history. It had been some of the best fun he had, and he was sure the others would like it too.

It had also become a small problem.

Eddie dropped himself on the couch next to Wayne as soon as he got home. Hellfire had run a little bit later than expected, but it was the last session before winter break, it couldn't be helped.

No, the problem wasn't the sessions running late. Wayne was usually at work by the time they were done, and on the off chance he had a Friday off, he was always warned of where he was.

(Eddie would not make that mistake, ever, where Wayne was concerned.)

Wayne glanced at him but kept his attention on the crossword he was working on as Eddie fidgeted with his ring. The radio played softly somewhere close to them.

Okay, calling it a problem was a little dramatic even for him. It wasn't a problem. It wasn't. But it was a little unexpected, he'd never even thought it was a possibility.

"Alright, kid." Wayne put the newspaper down, turning slightly to look at him. "What's goin' on with you?"

"Uh," he stalled like an idiot. If something would make Wayne assume something was wrong, hesitating would be it. "I don't… It's not bad."

"But it is something," Wayne guessed. "What kind of something?"

"You ever figure something out that you thought you knew about yourself?" Eddie asked, but made a face immediately after, twisting in his seat to look at Wayne as well. "Like… You thought something, but it turns out that the truth is something else?" He chanced a look at Wayne's face and saw a flicker of understanding. "It's nothing bad! I promise it's nothing bad."

Wayne nodded. "You said that, Eddie, and I believe you." His eyes unfocused for a moment, in a way Eddie knew meant his uncle was looking for words. "Well, there was that one time I learned I'm allergic to grapes, remember?"

Eddie nodded. That had happened years ago when his Ma was still alive, and it had freaked him out as a kid. It had been a surprise to Wayne as well.

"Now, I'm guessin' this isn't about food, or even music," he prompted. Eddie nodded, looking down at his hands and spinning the ring on his finger. "You know whatever's in your head is safe here, Eddie."

"I know," he groaned. "It's just… not something I expected?" Eddie shrugged. "I told you about Dylan, right?"

"Yeah?" Wayne nodded, looking a little confused. "First kid from your club to actually try and teach you that game of yours? You made 'im kinda hard to forget, Eddie." The smirk was both on Wayne's face and voice. Eddie flopped onto his back, almost hitting his head on the arm of the couch and causing Wayne to huff a laugh. "What about him?"

"Ollie said he was flirting. With me," he clarified while looking at the trailer ceiling. There was a stain up there that they should probably look into at some point.

"And that's not bad."

Eddie hummed his negative, spinning the ring that used to be his mother's.

"I mean, I didn't notice but Ollie swears he was." His hands started moving above his body. "And while Kant was driving us all home, I realized that I didn't really mind if he was, it's—it's kinda nice, and I wouldn't mind!" He raised his head a little to look at Wayne. "I mean, I know there's nothing wrong with liking another boy," he said in a low voice. At this time, there wasn't anyone to overhear their conversation. It just seemed like the softness was needed. "I just never stopped to think about it."

Wayne hummed thoughtfully, and Eddie stretched out on the couch, unceremoniously dropping his feet on Wayne's lap.

"Pretty sure this is a good age to be thinking about this stuff, Eddie." Wayne patted his leg, ignoring the noise he'd just made. "I was about 20 when I thought, hell, maybe I'm better off just by myself."

"I spent all that time telling Dick that I wasn't interested in boys like that," Eddie mused, the nickname he bestowed upon his father making him smile. Wayne shook his head with a smile of his own. "Might have saved some time if I'd just—"

"Don't even go there, kid," he interrupted. "Your old man was a piece of work who couldn't handle not being in control."

Eddie sighed, nodding slowly. "So, what do I do?"

"About what?"

"Wayne!" Eddie shot up from the couch, standing in front of his uncle with his arms crossed.

"Alright, alright," Wayne conceded with a chuckle. "Do you like him?"

"I…" Eddie frowned, thinking it over. "Think so?" Wayne raised an eyebrow at him, waiting. "He's a good person! He listens, y'know, and he's nice to be around."

"That ain't quite enough, kid," Wayne said softly. "You need to know for sure because people have their expectations in a relationship, and you need to know whether you two can find a middle ground."

"Expectations like…" His frown deepened, trying to think of something. "What?"

"All sorts of things," Wayne shrugged. "Sex, for one."

Eddie groaned, sitting down on the little coffee table that was behind him. It creaked ominously for a moment but settled down again. Wayne chuckled and continued talking. Eddie only half listened, as he was prone to when he wasn't interested in the topic, while Wayne kept going about how people — most of them, anyway — eventually wanted more "physical action" out of the relationship. Some sooner than others.

Those were Wayne's words. He wasn't sure how his uncle knew any of it, Eddie had never heard about the man being in any sort of relationship, ever, but the fact was that Eddie would much rather just… not do what he was very obviously implying.

Did people really have nothing better to do? This was starting to feel a little bit like some of the conversations he'd overheard over the halls in high school…

It was kind of ridiculous.

"Okay!" Eddie exclaimed, raising his arms to stop Wayne before he could go into any type of detail. "How the hell do you even know any of this?!"

Wayne shrugged, smiling in a way that made Eddie narrow his eyes. He did not want to know.

"Either way," Wayne continued softly. "Make sure to respect them and that they respect you, kid." He stood up, patting his shoulder. "Just want you to stay safe."

Eddie watched him move to the kitchen for a moment before standing up himself. He turned the radio up a little, just enough to be heard from his room. He didn't think Wayne had anything to worry about; if what he'd just said was true, Eddie was probably better off on his own just as Wayne was.

He lay down on his bed, listening to Woody Guthrie's voice in the background. He wasn't sure which song it was, but he had the impression of it being one of Wayne's favorites. He was sure he'd listened to it a lot since he came live with him.

It wasn't long before he fell asleep to the music.

At some point, Eddie was aware he was on his back. He usually moved around in bed more, but he felt tired. Still tired. He was supposed to feel better rested, he'd been asleep just now.

He could still hear the music on the radio, lowered and muffled somewhere to his right.

Do not think 'bout tomorrow; let tomorrow come and go…

Right, that was Wayne's favorite song, one of the first he'd taught Eddie on the acoustic guitar. Without opening his eyes, he tapped his finger on the bed to the rhythm of it. It wasn't his usual type of music but it was… pleasant.

Something wrapped around his wrist, stilling the movement of his hand. He tensed. The last time something held him— He tried holding onto his sheets, but the thin, scratchy material felt wrong and—

"Eddie," a soft voice called to him. He didn't know it, he didn't like it. Whoever they were, moved their hand so they were holding his hand instead. "Can you squeeze my hand?"

He didn't want to listen to them, but he could tell it was important. It took more effort than he'd expected to put any type of pressure on the hand holding his. He couldn't think of it as a squeeze of any kind.

"That's great, Eddie, that's great." They sounded happy for some reason. "Think you can open your eyes, now?"

Eddie made a noise that might have been a no if he had any more energy. The stranger — a woman, he realized — chuckled.

"I know it's unpleasant, but we really need you to open your eyes."

He wanted to go back to sleep. He was still tired, his body was aching all over, head to toe. But he was pretty sure she wouldn't let him sleep again.

If squeezing her hand took effort, opening his eyes was like… something worse. There was a golden-ish glow to the room he was in, but not much in the way of furniture of any kind. It was him and this lady.

Listen to the steel rails hummin', that's the hobo's lullaby.

"Wayne…?"

#asexual Eddie Munson #Stranger Things #Eddie Munson #Steddie #Stranger Things fic #Steddie fic #Eddie Munson fic #ace!Eddie Munson #asexuality #Wayne Munson #Steve Harrington #Dustin Henderson #wereswriting #These are my permanent tags. Who this story is *about*. So they stay even if the characters are not in the part posted.#Happy Pride month y'all :)

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lanigirlsm · 2 months

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The Call Out

aniya or shorty doo wop as they called her around the campus due to her sorority and TikTok but lil did she know that one of the infamous alphas she had followed on Instagram also had followed her on TikTok and make a video(hyperlink video) so she decided at the next divine 9 even that they had she would talk to him

Alpha Phi Alpha Hoco Party

Not only did niya come a bit different from what asani had always seen on her post. she came with cool dark grey cargos with white and grey Harley davidson baby tee with her light armor blue dunks and her locs in a cute pinned up bun with a couple curly locs hanging out she walked in looking around and grabbing a cup that has down jungle juice in which she knew was goin to have her fucked up later but she needed to put something in her system so as she walks up to him she chugs her drink and taps him

“i heard you was trying to match outfits in the airport so where we going”she asked as she smiles with her brown lined lips that made her dimple poke out and her eyes go chink Asani turns around from facing his boys and likes his lips and smirks”oh so I see yo folks move fast getting word around huh never knew I could have a lovley red in my face like this y'all mf a lil rude” Asani said taking his shades of putting them on top of her head as he took a sip of her drink and she just laughs “you stil yappin and ain't telling me where we going”niya said getting a lil sassy with him and not fully making eye contact with and as he notice that”im take you anywhere u wanna go but I wanna know why they call you shawty doo wop” Asani question the time like his was any better which it wasn't but we will get to that soon but the way it rolled of his Detroit accent killed her in every ascpect “well if you like to know it something common where I'm from when a female can make the world revolve around her and have any man wrapped around her finger”she said with all the cofedince in her heart knowing that this was man she had to be bold with he called her out Many divided 9 wont make relationship liking as open but he was bold enought to so she had to step with the same energy which made Asani chuckle “oh so you saying this lil fun size you working with gon have me stuck what u be doing huh that why these nigga be scared to holla at you” lifngting her Chin up as first time -by Elliotie t as she let her eyes sink into his catching a butterfly which could only mean one thing and this one thing was going to have her stuck for a minute but she forgot that she was standing in front of him and his group of friends

“you gon let me introduce you as mine or I gotta work for that too and watch your every move In case I gotta fuck a nigga up”and she smiles making her dimpled face turn red”ima make you work for it but you should have knew that by now wrapping her arms around his neck and looking at him ‘you wanna get out here cause I can tell that this is not your vibe at all and from the way yo eyes looking like you drunk to much trying to build a courage wall to talk to me”he says chuckling throw niya over his shoulder making her gasp and giggle and dapping up boys letting them know that he was going to be heading out and who to take over the head of the line if they decide to stroll .

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fromdusttohonor · 11 months

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Shades of the past..

Shaw stepped through the veil, Folcard and Burrich vanishing as he crossed planes. It was cold here.. so very cold. His fight or flight was pinned on flight and every instinct was telling him to leave, go back, leave.

He knew the direction he needed to go, but something was pulling him back, desperately. Every time he looked over his shoulder all Shaw could see was the never ending gray of the world between life and death. The feeling of being watched grew with every step as he followed the path to his father’s childhood home, something was here, something that shouldn’t be. It wasn’t the Hunters, of that he was sure, he’d not been through the veil long enough to draw their attention. Not that they wouldn’t be along soon enough. Shaw could just make out the outline of his destination through the fog when a voice reached him. He didn’t hear it.. not in the traditional sense, he could feel it in his thoughts. It poked and prodded, searched and demanded.

Why are you here? How did you get here?

He knew better than to answer and pressed on.

Fine.. keep your secrets.

Hah.. they sense you here. They are coming.

He shook his head, picking up the pace as his father’s childhood home came into focus through the gray. Nearly there.. just need to search. Something brushed his arm, he blinked, searched, but he was alone. Shaw knew he was running out of time, the Hunters would be on him soon enough. The first floor held nothing that held even a trace of his father. Something called to him.. pulled him.. upstairs. It was familiar, the call, the pull, the caress.

He opened his mouth to speak.. “Mother..” his voice was hoarse, barely a whisper. Shaw took the stairs two at a time, reaching the second floor landing as something caught his eye, an old wooden sword leaning against the wall. “Thank you..” A howl echoed through the air as the temperature seemed to drop even lower, a shiver ran down his spine. He struggled, but managed to step back through the veil just in time as the howls drew closer. Once more something brushed his arm, but he ignored it, the place was covered in cobwebs. Shaw grabbed the sword, tying it to his belt and turning to head down the stairs when a whisper reached him, a light shining at the base of the steps sent shadows dancing through the posts and railing.

“Who.. who’s there?” The voice came as a cloaked and hooded figure poked their covered head around the turn in the stairs, leading with a lamp. “Best you run off, this is no place for sight seein’.”

Shaw blinked as the man stepped around, practically towering over him. The lamplight was nearly blinding for a moment, causing Lincoln to raise a hand to shield against the light. “I was just leavin’, honest.”

“Thievin’, more like. What’s that you got there?” The giant of a man took a staggering limp of a step forward, brandishing something Shaw couldn’t quite make out at first from the blinding lamp. As the lamp was lowered he could see the man held a hefty cane with round metal grip, while not the most dangerous weapon Shaw had ever had pointed at him, with this man’s size it may as well have been a mace.

“It was my fathers..” He said, turning to show the wooden sword tied to his waist. “His spirit wanders.. I plan to use it as a means to send him on in peace.”

The old man muttered something as he settled the cane back down, leaning heavily on it as the wood creaked beneath the man’s weight. “Mm.. best you get goin’.. fence behind here has a break in it, the dead will be here soon. Go on.. git.” The man stepped aside, raising the lamp and jerking his head towards the stairs. “At once.. and with haste.” He flashed that damned smile he always thought was charming. It wasn’t. It was met with a grimace from the old man who followed after him down the stairs. Despite the man’s massive size and obvious limp, he managed to keep up with Shaw all the way to the hole he’d mentioned.

“Given your task here.. I would offer my aid, if you’d accept. My way of apologizing. I find too many people wandering these parts.. robbin’ graves and the like. Give your father a proper send off.” The old man pulled back his hood, his face was pockmarked and riddled with tiny scars, but his smile was warm despite his appearance. A warmth Shaw never quite mastered.. and likely never would.

“Your aid, eh? Heh.. what’re you.. some sort of priest?” He asked, gesturing to the man.

“Aye.. Father Locke.. formerly of the Cathedral of Light.. now guide and protector of the damned and lost souls of this accursed place.” He turned, cane leading the way. “There’s a place not far from here.. good view of the night sky.. no worry of a pyre setting the surrounding trees ablaze.”

Shaw chuckled softly, shaking his head as he followed behind the Father, a thumb gently rubbing against the wooden blade.

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tottymatsuno · 2 years

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Requests FAQ NO MINORS ALLOWED!

im sick of tumblrs text editors so im just gonna link to tiny urls.

https://abiesfir.tumblr.com/post/674702675586236416/updated-info-minors-and-blmtsuproshpper-dni

Everyone has been very polite to me, and I apologize because I'm writing this in a frazzled and agitated state so if it comes off as rude I'm sorry. I'll update with more questions as they come.

MINORS DNI

The Basics!

Who are you?/What's your age/What's your race?/How much free-time do you have?

I'm Robin, I am 26 and I am a black transmasc/genderfluid adult. I have mental illness and talk about it a lot, this blog is literally my healthy coping mechanism because I am currently unmedicated. I will not disclose anything else further on the matter. I am also physically disabled so a lot of my stories are unbeta'd bc of it.

I have a small baby and a wife so my time is very divided. I can't spend a ton of time editing and fixing things up perfectly and I don't actually have a beta editor. I do this to destress and as self care. So me enjoying the requests is important. Don't make me feel obligated to do these free requests bc I will get pressured and won't do them anymore.

Will You block me for being under 18?

YES, LEAVE, GO, DO NOT COME HERE, I DONT WANT ANY MINORS INTERACTING WITH MY POSTS! Leave!!! Don't fucking come in here!!! Don't bother, please just for the love of fucking God this is my one thing, minors and 18 year olds, GO HOME!

I HAVE WRITTEN MULTIPLE TIMES FOR MINORS TO LEAVE ME ALONE! I DONT WANT YOU HERE!

Can you do a request for X non African American culture?

No, I like to write for black american girls. Whatever I write would be culturally insensitive and would be solely based off of the stereotypes I know of. I wouldn't try to be racist or malicious, but I do this for fun and am not going to research a culture for a request. Not trying to be funny but there's also the fact that black girls are thoroughly under represented in self inserting/fics so I'm doing my part <3

You should def write your own though and link it back to me!! I would loooove to read it! I highly recommend and encourage for people to make the content they'd like to see!

What race are the Readers? Can I imagine myself or my own cultural/ethnic background?

All black! Every request, every reader, every story is written with a black woman in mind. All of them! And yeah go ahead! I try to avoid major character descriptions but yeah I don't mind! Have fun!

Why don't you write more trans fics if you're not cis and hc Totty as trans?

Hmmm, that's complicated but mostly because I struggle with gender issues involving being perceived as attractive and I deal with a lot of shame bc of it. If I'm a man and I like a woman, in my head I'm not allowed to be interested in her bc I'm not passing or presenting masculine. If she's a lesbian then I feel guilty because I'm a man. If she's bi I worry she'll think of me as a woman. Annd the same with men!

And I headcanon Todomatsu as trans and I do not want to come off as a chaser or being solely interested in him for being a woman. I wouldn't feel comfortable writing trans Totty sexually either bc I don't want to be offensive or weird. annnd I don't wanna base his trans status off of my experiences with my wife so. yea

Is this a requests blog?

No! This is a Todomatsu blog that DOES requests for fun! And not only is it a Todomatsu blog, its my self insert ship blog for Todomatsu. This is all for fun beloveds and I have the most fun making content for Totty.

Are you comfortable with like/reblog sprees?

GO AHEAD! Not gonna lie tho, it is kinda funny but does hurt my feelings when I see some of yall doing that and then not follow me...I have a couple regulars who show up everyday for like 2 weeks and then don't follow me. Follow me???

And gimme comments and laugh at my jokes and let me know I'm being funny and praise me???????? pls?

Can I DM you/Be your friend/Talk to you?

GO AHEAD!!!! I want friends!! If you wanna specific anon name you can have one, but feel free to be my friend! I'm not really anybody but that guy who doesnt stfu. i dont see myself really as a content creator or writer i literally am possessed and when I say this is mental illness baby you better believe my therapist knows all about Todomatsu and has heard half the shit I say on here.

Don't feel intimidated, I wanna be your friend more than you wanna be mine! Let's talk!

Requests!

How should we ask for requests

Preferably indicating if you want a bullet hc list, a minific (with your matsuno of choice or all brothers), your pronouns and the scenario.

If it's an art request please say so! If it's an art request from a meme link me the meme as well?

Are you still working on my request?

Unless I replied to the request itself and said no, then yeah. If I make a post referencing the request saying "I'll alter the prompt" its usually for my own comfort. But yeah, unless I answer the request without any text than yeah I'm still workin on it.

Some might take time because I have a very active life outside of this blog. My baby is high needs, I have lots of doctors appoints, I get hospitalized a lot, there's family emergencies, there's IRL obligations. I'm an adult, ik it might seem like it bc I'm glued to my phone but I have an adult's life.

It's taking a while, why is that?

Did you request a scenario with ALL six of the brothers, was it detailed, was it kinda just vague, did I make a text post saying I was working on it and it'll be a minific?

If so please know I'm working on it! Most minifics takes me a few hours to mentally map out - I'm doing SIX of them btw. Then I need to make an outline, SIX of them again. Then I need to actually write all SIX of them.

You answered my Todomatsu request right away but not my all boys request?

Because I'm a Totty blog! I don't hate the others and I love the requests I get but Todomatsu is my favorite I'm in love with him clinically and he is the current target of my diagnosed erotomania soooo I'm dropping everything to answer, draw, write, obsess and lust after him. Thank u send more requests of him specifically if u want a fast turnaround.

What makes you do a bullet list vs a mini fic?

if the request leads into a mini fic I'll do one. It's actually harder for me to think of bullet lists than mini fics so I kinda prefer mini fics.

Can request 18!matsu? Or a scenarios where the Matsunos have a SO that thinks of his brothers like their own?

No. The short of it is just NO. The long of it is: I have PTSD. My fear of interacting with children - especially little boys stems from deep seated childhood trauma. The most painful aspect of this of this trauma involves my step brother and several younger cousins. I will not further elaborate but I'm sure y'all catch my drift. Don't do it.

In my personal real life I am so terrified of men and boys younger than me that I refuse to think about men six months younger than me as attractive.

Do not ask me for anything involving the 18 vers of them that isn't strictly platonic.

And when I write I usually in some way or another imagine myself so if you want a request about the reader viewing the others as brother you must request only ONE brother and that's it. Do not ask me to write switching POVs from a reader who sees Oso-Ichi + Todo as little brothers while dating Jyushimatsu to a POV of Karamatsu being the love interest and the rest brothers.

I will shut down requests for a week if anybody asks for Todomatsu being seen as the reader's younger brother or Todomatsu under the age of 25. If it happens more than once I will no longer take requests indefinitely.

I sent a funny nonsensical joke and you didn't get it/I sent an anon and you didn't understand it?

I like things that I understand and with a context. I'm not ontop of all the latest memes and it's very hard for me to grasp when things are jokes.

What NSFW are you comfortable with?

https://tinyurl.com/whatwillyouwrite

Do you take Whump requests?

No is the short answer. No because I find the genre and fetish very uncomfortable as a disabled person. I don't like the idea of romanticizing people's suffering. I don't like the fact the genre is about kissing someone's pain better and then causing them more pain.

If someone was getting off to me crying or having a panic attack or my chest hurting or me getting taken to the ER or me fainting or me being physically dependent on them I would actually be very upset. I don't want to write about that because recovery is painful, yes but it's not a smut genre to me at least. Ik some whump isn't a fetish but it's so tied together. Anyways uh, no. Don't submit anything like that.

If you do and it slips through just know I probably didn't interpret it in the way you'd like and it'd be a serious piece and completely tonally unsexy and unfluffy. So save us both the heart ache.

#faq for my fics #goin in the pinned post soon #edited real quick

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madstwd · 2 years

Text

Jealous

Daryl Dixon x reader

Warnings: SMUT, thigh riding, overstimulation, praising, teasing, dom Daryl, sub reader

Words: 3.1k

Season: 10

Summary: Daryl is getting jealous of you and Negan bonding, your getting impatient with the lack of closeness as you both work on repairing Alexandria...

Hope you enjoy my first Daryl smut! Thank you for all the love on my other posts! Love you all -mads :))

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Daryl watched you and Negan interact from afar, both repairing the same house that was damaged from the herd beta used. He tried not to be jealous, he knew you were his. The countless times he's had you pinned under him proved that point. “I'm surprised a frown like that hasn't just permanently stuck on your face” Carol joked from beside him. Daryl just scoffed and drew his attention to her. “You haven't got anything to worry about. That girl is head over heels for you” she said. Daryl nodded, he knew this, yet every time you spoke to the man it made his blood boil. He brought his attention back to you when he heard your chuckles, clutching Negan’s arm as you laughed at something he said.

You felt eyes on you, knowing exactly whose eyes they were. Now that the threat of the whisperers had gone you hoped to have Daryl to yourself for at least one night needing him more than ever. Blush starting to form on your cheeks at all the inappropriate thoughts that started to happen in your head. “What position are you in?” You heard Negan suddenly say, you turned to him shocked and confused. “What?” You asked. “Your day dream, what position does he have you in?” he laughed. Your eyes widened with shock, not expecting Negan to notice your day dream. “How did you-” you trailed off. “You've been hammering the same nail into the wood for like 5 minutes” he laughed. Your cheeks darkened in colour as you became more embarrassed. A smirk grew on your face before you decided to reply to his question not letting the man get to you “the yoga pose is called downward dog I think” you stated whilst picking up another nail. Now it was Negan's turn to be shocked, however it quickly turned into laughter which you joined in, clutching his arm for balance. “Not done it in a while?” He questioned. This was not how you thought your day was going to go, talking to Negan about your sex life was never anything you thought would happen given the less recent history you both shared. “Yeah, he's been distracted and had to take control, I just thought maybe he would spend one night with me but I get it we are both exhausted” you sighed beginning to hammer in the new nail you picked up. “We could tease him, you know” Negan said. You shook your head “I don't think that would end well” you chuckled thinking back to the last time he fucked you whilst being angry, you could barely walk the next day. Made everyone at the prison chuckle when you tried to help Rick on the crops barely able to stand up. “I think it would end really well, if you know what I mean,” he laughed. You smirked at him, you could just ask Daryl to lay with you but also he's so gentle you kind of want him to be a little bit angry and rough.

“What do you have in mind?” You questioned. Negan just smirked before whispering in your ear, whilst he was doing this you immediately felt eyes on your back again. “I'll just get closer to you,” he said. You thought for a moment, if it was really worth it. There’s nothing that Daryl wouldn’t do for you if you asked, maybe it would be a bad idea. “I don’t know, seems too much effort for some sex” you laughed. Negan laughter travelled further than yours did you know that from the footsteps you could hear coming behind you. You let out a small yelp when you turned round not expecting him to be so close so soon. “Goin’ hunting, wanna come?” He asked,glaring at Negan. You thought for a moment, knowing if you left you would leave Negan to finish this house alone since no one else was helping him, glancing at him, you saw him nod his head in approval. So you nodded, “yeah, just let me get my gear” you said, wiping your hands and placing the hammer in the tool basket with the nails. You felt Daryl’s eyes bore into you as you walked away, heat flowing to your cheeks knowing you weren't too far from you task at hand.

It didn't take you long to gather everything from your house, seeing Daryl and Dog waiting for you at the gates. You stopped to talk to Carol, “hey, want any animal whilst we are out?” You asked. “Rabbit maybe? I’m not too picky though” she replied. You nodded your head before starting to continue your journey to your significant other. “Got everything?” He asked whilst you situated yourself on the bike behind him. “Yeah” he nodded at your response, getting ready to start the bike. You tighten your arms around his waist, placing your head in between his shoulder blade, breathing in his scent as he takes you to the hunting grounds. Dog painting follows after you both.

Your hips cracked as you got off the bike causing you to laugh at Daryl's look of concern, “don’t worry, just in need of a good stretch sometime” you winked at him. A tight lipped grin formed on his face before he started to cover up the bike. “That can be arranged” he whispered in your ear, placing a kiss behind it, before starting to traverse the terrain in front of him. The first few hours neither of you said anything, but kept glancing at each other. Since it was getting colder you wore a long sleeved top, but had a few buttons undone, giving Daryl the perfect view of your cleavage. You were unsure if he was even tracking at this point or just trying to find an excuse to go back. “Not much out here” you stated. He only grunted in response. “The herd probably scared everything that wasn’t hibernating”

“Shame I promised Carol some rabbit” you sighed, Daryl paused for a moment, taking his canteen out to get a quick drink, offering Dog some as well. You watched his arms move to hold the crossbow again, muscles bulging through the tight shirt he was wearing. “Maybe we would find something if ya quit staring at ma arms’ he laughed. Your eyes widened, shocked you had been caught. “Haven’t had the time to look them up closer” you muttered shyly following him. He chuckled again, shaking his head.

You both decided to call it a day when the sun had started to set, laughing as the bike rolled through the gates, enjoying time alone with Daryl. “I'll go take everything we found to storage and see ya later right” he asked, you nodded and gave him a quick kiss before walking back to the house. On your way you bumped into Negan again. “How was hunting?” He asked.you smiled “good, really good”

Negan looked at your face, watching your eyes look at Daryl with so much affection. “He was staring a lot today,” you said, turning towards him. “Oh yeah maybe we can make him jealous then” he chuckled. You looked ahead thinking for a moment, before deciding against it. “Nah, I had a nice day. Don’t wanna make him mad ya know” you said, negan nodded “Suit yourself, I’m praying that he Fucks you soon. He’s getting too angry too fast” he laughed before watching you go up the porch of your house. You turned and winked at him, before entering.

The teasing would work yes, but you had a much better plan. You walked upstairs stripping yourself from all the clothes you had on, digging through his draws for a shirt. Once you had it on, unbuttoned to show off the swell of your breasts, you started to cook some food. Daryl entered the house to your humming, Judith wanted to play and look after the dog so he left him with her overnight. He entered the kitchen and paused in complete awe at your appearance. Standing there cooking for him in nothing but his shirt. Daryl nervously cleared his throat. “Oh hey! Dinner should be ready soon” you whispered to him. He nodded before walking up behind you, pressing his face into your neck leaving soft kisses. You pushed back into him letting out a small groan. “You look good sunshine” he whispered in your ear “is that my shirt?”. You nodded, eyes shutting briefly enjoying the closeness. “Hanging out with Negan today, getting all close and laughing with him” he said, placing more kisses on your neck. “No one else was helping him, besides you're the only one for me, you know this” you said, sucking in a breath. He reached in front of you, turning the stove off. “Prove it, wait for me upstairs” he said. Nodding you swiftly made your way upstairs. You sat waiting for him on the bed, nervously playing with your fingers in your lap as you heard his footsteps come up the stairs.

He smirked seeing you seated on the bed for him, softly closing the door behind him. He spread your legs allowing him to slot in between them. His calloused fingertips running up the softness of your thighs, until he meets your hips, holding them with a firm grip. His eyes darkened at your breasts from where the shirt had slightly fallen off your shoulder. “So beautiful, '' he whispered, leaning in to capture your lips. You whimpered against him, “oh? Someone’s needy” he chuckled, “show me how much you need me” He continued, pulling the chair that normally had piles of washing on it, over and then sitting on it. He lifted an eyebrow at you, waiting for you to start. You slowly moved towards him, allowing his shirt to fall to the ground. Exposing your bra, causing him to suck in a hard breath. You could see his cock twitch with excitement through his jeans, giving you more confidence. You straddled him, before starting to nip at his neck, whilst your fingers began to undo the buttons of his own shirt. He grabbed your chin, before pulling your lips to his, his hands dropped to your waist, readjusting your body so you were sat on his thigh. His grip tightened, as he slowly started to move his body so you were grinding on his thigh. A small whimper escaped your lips from the friction and his tightening grip. “Continue this darlin” he groaned. You kept at the pace as he removed his hands, “i thought i was meant to be pleasing you” you whimpered, as he grabbed your hips again increasing the speed you were going. “Oh you are sunshine, keep going, slowly increase the speed as well” he said, his hands went behind your back fumbling with your bra clasp. As he undid it slowly, fingers grasping your shoulders as he slid the straps off and chucking it somewhere across the room.

He nipped at your Collar bones, kissed slowly making way further down your chest, until he started kissing around your nipple, which became erect very quickly. Taking it in your mouth his tongue swirled around it, sucking and biting your nipple. His other hand came up cupping and kneading the other breast. Your pace quickened on his thigh which caused him to contract the muscle, adding pressure right where you needed it. “Good girl, cum for me please” he groaned in your ear. You nodded and whimpered, your speed becoming faster as you chased your first climax of the night. He guided you through it, allowing you to rest your head in the nape of his neck, kissing the side of your head as you breathed quickly. He lifted you off himself before laying you on the bed gently, standing at the edge, his thigh drenched because of you, your panties soaked through. “I'm so lucky” he groaned. As he began to undress himself, his cock became painfully tight at the sight of you laying on the bed, chest moving quickly as you tried to regain your breath. Nipples still erect. He slowly lifted himself above you, his arms by your head, the only thing separating you, the underwear that still covered you both. You took in a sharp breath as he bought another nipple in his mouth, his hand working on tweaking the other one. “Got to make sure you know Your mine, sunshine. Not Negans, or anyone else'' he groaned. You nodded, mind becoming blissed out from the touch of just your nipples. Your eyes widened when you felt his hand rub your clit through the fabric, the already sensitive bean sending more waves of pleasure. “Say it to me” he said, his movements stopping. “I'm yours...I promise” you breathed out. He smirked before both of his hands quickly worked to remove your underwear.

His body lowered, before you felt his breath. His lips slowly kiss the sensitive area before sucking and nipping at your clit. You whined loudly, biting your lips. You have spent so long waiting for him to pleasure you, and it was finally happening. He sucked harder on it, his tongue flicking and circling it, too caught up in the pleasure you squirmed when you felt his fingers tease your entrance, gently prodding it trying to tease out more noises. “Come on darlin let me hear you sing” he joked. You nodded, letting out a loud groan as he pushed two digits in, his mouth instantly attaching itself back to your clit. Moaning at every sound you were making. As you approached your second Climax of the night he increased his speed, causing you to squirm . His arm that wasn't being used he pinned you to the bed, stopping you from moving too much. Your thighs tightened around his head, you felt the familiar pool in your stomach, causing him to move even faster if you thought it was possible. When you finally reached the second high, it felt different, your body was even more sensitive than normal, a liquid felt like it was rushing out. Only did you notice when Daryl lifted his face away from the area, you could see it dripping with a liquid, his body lifted back over yours as he whispered in your ear “good girl, squirting for me”.

You nodded whining for him, he lent back on his elbows observing your face which had tears leaking out the sides of your eyes that were shut tightly. Your mouth gaped open, breathing heavily. Daryl stood up from the bed as he began to strip himself from the boxers he was wearing. He Gathered some of your juices and used it alongside the pre-cum that had formed for lubrication. “Are you ready?” He asked, careful to not use your over sensitive body too much. You nodded at him, spreading your legs wider for him. He smirked , rubbing his length gathering even more juices “p..p...please Daryl” you whined, his smirk became more of a cocky smile. “Go on beg for me, tell me how much you need me and only me” he groaned, preventing himself from fully entering you. “Please Daryl, I need it, for you, only you….Daryl plea-” you begged, he cut you by fully thrusting in you. Starting at a fast pace, entering you to the brim each time, desperately chasing his own high, watching you whine and squirm underneath him. His hand took yours, pinning them above your head with a firm grip that was sure to leave marks. His thighs made their way under yours, lift your hips on them creating a new angle that hit the perfect spot “Oh Daryl” you moaned, he let go of your hand to grab your hips, his speed never changing. His grip was even tighter than the grip on your hands, the pain being covered by the pleasure he was giving you. Your hands reached for his shoulders, lifting your upper body causing you to sit on his lap as he thrusted into you, your nails leaving new lines over his back. You moaned as one of his hands started to play with your clit, his mouth attacking a breast.

The pleasure was almost too much again, your eyes closing tightly, breathless moans being the only signal that you were so close to another intense orgasm. His thrusts started to become uneven, he gripped your hips again allowing them to meet his, your walls gripping him tightly. “I'm going to..” he groaned, you whimpered and nodded “please Daryl”

You felt a familiar coil beginning to form, Daryl close to his high. Your walls gripped him tightly as you moaned loudly becoming limp in his arms, he gently laid you back down as he tried to chase his own high, it wasn't long until he loudly groaned your name and his thrusts became weak and slow as he unloaded inside of you.

Even though you had passed out briefly from exhaustion you knew Daryl's aftercare would be focused on you, the action providing aftercare for him as well as he took care of you. He gently slid himself out of you, leaving your body untouched as he went to get a towel, before coming back and cleaning you up. He picked out fresh underwear and slid the shirt of his you had on. Wrapping you up in blankets whilst getting himself some underwear on getting in the bed with you. When you finally woke up you placed a soft kiss on his jawline, causing him to look down on you and place it on the top of his head. In this moment, nothing else mattered, not the interactions with Negan that riled him up, or the fact neither of you hunted as much as he planned. In this moment all that he cared for was you, a reminder that no matter what happened you were both a constant in each other's life. No matter what insane group of humans would storm about with a herd, they couldn't tear you apart. “Hey bunny” he whispered, you looked up at him with tired eyes “I love you, even if out of everyone you choose to help it was him”

You smiled at him, leaning up to place a soft kiss on his lips, brushing away the hair that had sticked to his forehead “I love you too”

The next morning you found it hard to stand, your hips aching with the bruises that slowly formed from his grip. Negan smiled seeing you approach in one of Daryl's shirts and jeans at a slower pace than normal. “Guessing the plan worked,” he laughed. “I think it was this shirt that did it, but oh yeah it worked” you laughed. You watched the man slowly turn to look back at you, before heading off with Dog again no doubt to try and hunt again. The smile you gave him never left.

#the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x y/n #twd daryl #daryl x reader #daryl dixon smut

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redhoodssweetheart · 2 years

Text

Hatred is a Strong Word

Pairing: Tim Drake x Gender Neutral!Reader

Requested: Yes (This was a request from my 1.5K follower celebration. Only the stories mentioned in my pinned post are open.)

Word Count: 1.1K

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swearing

Description: You have no idea why Tim seems to dislike you and vice versa. Tim can't remember what he did to make you hate him so much, but maybe it was all just one big misunderstanding?

Song: What Lovers Do by Maroon5 and SZA

Say, say, say, hey, hey now baby

Oh mama, don't play now baby

Say, say, say, hey, hey now baby

Said let's get one thing straight now baby

Tell me, tell me if you love me or not, love me or not, love me or not?

I'll bet the house on you, am I lucky or not, lucky or not, lucky or not?

You gotta tell me if you love me or not, love me or not, love me or not?

Been wishin' for you, am I lucky or not, lucky or not, lucky or not?

It seemed like Tim hated you. You had had the biggest crush on him since you had first laid eyes on him, but he had only seemed to view you with casual disdain. It had hurt at first, but over time that hurt turned into something else. If Tim was going to hate you then you were going to hate him right back. Soon glares turned into comments made under breath and then snide remarks before all out war with words started.

“He’s such a spoiled little rich kid,” you said loud enough for Tim to hear. You weren’t looking at him so you missed how his back stiffened when he heard your comment. “He’s just coasting by on Bruce’s fame.”

Tim stood, turning to look at the back of your head, “Feeling insecure, Y/L/N?”

You turned and stared up at him, “I should be asking you that, Drake.” You looked around the courtyard where all of you had been either eating lunch or studying for upcoming midterms. “Clearly I struck a nerve.”

“Why do you feel the need to be such an asshole?” He narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest.

You stood as well and mimicked his position, “I’m not the one that started it. At least I tried being nice.” Then you gathered your things and stormed away leaving Tim confused.

Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, been wishin' for you

Ooh, ooh

Tryna do what lovers do, ooh

Say, say, say, hey, hey now baby

You gon' make me hit you with that lay down, baby (oh)

Ooh, say, say, say, hey, hey now baby

You know what I need, out the gate now baby (oh, oh)

Tell me, tell me if you love me or not, love me or not, love me or not?

I'll bet the house on you, am I lucky or not, lucky or not, lucky or not?

You gotta tell me if you love me or not, love me or not, love me or not?

Been wishin' for you, am I lucky or not, lucky or not, lucky or not?

Your words rattled around in Tim’s head for the remainder of the day. He thought that you had started this little war between the two of you. He couldn’t remember ever having said anything to you that would cause offense. He went to Steph with the problem, he explained the situation and she snorted.

“Tim, you can be a little on the mean side when you’re focused. I’m not saying you’re an asshole, you can just come off that way sometimes. You get tunnel vision and people can mistake it as you being a dick.” Steph patted him on the shoulder, “That’s probably all that’s happened here. My suggestion is just to talk to them and see where things went downhill and try to start over. Once they see that you’re not the person they think you are then things should hopefully go smoothly from here.”

It was solid advice.

That was why Tim had gone to Steph, he knew she would be able to help him.

So that night he rehearsed what he wanted to say to you, how he wanted to go about the conversation. He knew that you would probably be hostile at first, and he didn’t blame you, but he was still going to try and fix this. Maybe the two of you could be friends, but if not then he would settle for just being on good terms.

The funny thing was, was that he had actually had a crush on you before the two of you started the little war that you had going on. That crush was still there for some reason. He thought it would have vanished when the verbal sparring had begun, but still a part of him had held onto that crush and refused to let it go. He didn’t want to get his hopes up though. First, he had to fix the relationship between the two of you so that it was actually a good one before he went and decided to have actual feelings for you.

Aren't we too grown for games?

Aren't we too grown to play around?

Young enough to chase

But old enough to know better

Are we too grown for changin'?

Are we too grown to mess around?

Ooh and I can't wait forever baby

Both of us should know better

A shadow fell across you the next day when you were studying alone. When you looked up you saw Tim standing there and you noticed he looked a bit nervous. What that was about you had no idea. Maybe he was about to toss his drink on you or maybe he was going to utterly humiliate you in some other way.

“What do you want, Drake?” You asked, hoping your voice didn’t give away how nervous you were actually feeling.

“To offer you a white flag,” he said. Your eyebrows shot up and Tim took the seat beside you. “When you said that I had started this little war between us yesterday I was honestly confused. So I went home and talked to my sister and she shed some light on what might have happened.” Oh, this you had to hear. “I don’t hate you, I never disliked you. I tend to have a very serious persona when I’m focused on something. I get tunnel vision is what she told me. So what's probably happened here is I had tunnel vision and things just got misconstrued and now here we both are bickering with one another and having a feud that could have been avoided all along.”

You considered his words for a moment and then said, “You were working on that big project for Professor Mendleson’s class.” You sighed and said, “I’m really sorry, Tim. I just got really defensive when I thought you didn’t like me because I was hurt. I wanted to be friends and when you were acting like you were I guess I threw up a wall so that I wouldn’t be hurt.”

Tim chuckled, “We’re a pair aren’t we?”

You smiled back at him and he felt his heart flutter, “Yeah we are.”

Rubbing the back of his neck he asked, “Would you like to go get some coffee with me? We can smack talk about our professors and these assignments that they keep giving us.”

“I’d love to,” you said as you gathered up your things and followed Tim to the nearest coffee shop, your hands brushing occasionally and your fingers almost linking at one point.

#Tim Drake x Reader #Tim Drake x Reader fluff #Tim Drake x Reader angst #Tim Drake #Tim Drake fanfic #Tim Drake fanfiction #Tim Drake fluff #Tim Drake angst #Requested

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allovertheplace-writing · 3 years

Text

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

Legend of Zelda

Character(s): Link 《BoTW》, Urbosa

Genre: Fluff/Comfort

Type: Headcanon + Drabble

Description: Link and Urbosa comforting their stressed out s/o (Separate)

Warning(s): None

Something self-indulgent

Check Pinned Post for Request Info!

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➢ Link

Link isn't one for comforting others with words, but rather a warm hug

He will drop everything just to gather you in his arms once he sees your disheveled state

If you're out in public, he'll take you to the most secluded area around and just hold you as you let it out of your system

Whether or not you're exhausted or angry, he'll listen

Offering comfort when you reach for him

If you're at home, he'll bring you to the couch and sit beside you to ask you what's going on or what has happened to make you so distressed

The emotions you had been trying so hard to keep at bay finally overflowed when he pulled you close. He pressed his cheek against the top of your head as he held you tightly. He paid no mind to the tears that stained his tunic, all that mattered was that you let it all out.

When you're done, Link will pull back and hold your face in his hands

He'll gently wipe the drying tears from your cheeks

And then place a kiss on your forehead

After a moment he'd move away, going to grab some water

He returned to your side with a glass of water, handing it to you soon after. He put his hand on your back, rubbing shapes into your covered skin to offer some more comfort. Your aching throat appreciated the water, the burning calming down even after you stopped drinking.

Link would make sure to move you to your bed

He knew how exhausting crying was and knew you would need to sleep soon

And he also knew he'd stay with you until you woke up

➢ Urbosa

Urbosa would notice long before you did

She urged you to take a day off and when you finally caved, she made sure to be with you the entire time

She'd set up games such a the seal race where it's just the two of you

Urbosa would then bring you to try on various clothing

And afterward she would bring you to her divine beast, taking the time to relax and admire the stars

She brought her hand to your face, smiling as you looked up at her. "Urbosa?" She pulled you against her, placing a kiss to your nose, "You know we can do this whenever you want, right, (Y/n)?" Nodding your head, you leaned into her. "Don't be afraid to take time for yourself like this.. you deserve to relax." She loosened her grip on you, but kept her arm on your shoulder as she turned her eyes to the sky.

She would remind you as many times as you needed to remember it

And even if she didn't notice how stressed you were, she would still make sure to be there to wipe your tears

She will be there to hold you close

"(Y/n)? Hey, are you alright?" Her voice was soft as she placed a hand on your shoulder. And the moment your lip quivered, you were in her arms and tucked under her chin. "..you're goin' to be okay, dear..just let it out." It hurt when your tears rolled on to her skin, but she knew you needed this.

Urbosa would keep you with her until the morning, doting on you a bit more than usual

Even on the busiest days, she'll make time for you

You are her everything and she will try her best to make you happy

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gaiuswrites · 3 years

Text

King of Cups || Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The Tower

Archive: ao3 | masterlist | two

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Summary: You’re apart of the Refugee Relief Movement, an intergalactic organization providing aid throughout the systems, and you find yourself assisting at a resettlement camp in Lothal when disaster strikes, changing your life forever, intertwining your path with that of a certain Mandalorian bounty hunter.

Word count: 3.7k~

Rated: Mature

Warnings: descriptive violence, blood/injury mentioning, danger, mature language

Notes: Hi y'all, welcome. This fic is going to be set during Season 2 of The Mandalorian, and will be what I like to call ‘canon adjacent’. ALSo, this chapter is very much so Reader focused, setting up the scene and the general pacing of the story, but naturally, Din will be more and more featured as things progress. I’m a sucker for backstory and a slow burn, so ye be warned. Please feel free to reach out to me. :) I’d love to hear from you lovely little beans. Be safe out there, friends.

Lothal was a planet all too familiar with occupation.

You remember seeing a quote somewhere that read ‘Look no further than Lothal if you want to see what happens when the Empire takes control of an entire world’; and although the Imperial chokehold had loosened when the Empire fell, the planet, even all these years later, still found itself gasping for breath.

Off world migration from the Core Worlds had been popularized since the expansion of the Imperial government bureaucracy, which brought booming business opportunities for the fortunate few, but as the rich became richer, the poor grew poorer. The Lothalites were forced out of their homes, off their own lands—refugees on their own planet; forced to resettle and relocate with nothing but the clothes on their back and the possessions they could cram into their pockets. The only heirlooms passed on from generation to generation were that of poverty, tall tales of former splendor, and the greatest of ancestral traumas: disillusionment.

The truly desperate turned to crime, and what couldn’t be solved by back-dealings and blaster fire was managed with fear mongering and the bitter flair of xenophobia. There was always a species to blame, and it was always the one who seemed to be doing better off, no matter how slight the margin.

Greed. Fear. Despair. These are the currencies in which the galaxy trades.

And so it was then, and continued to be, cycle after cycle. History, always finding clever ways to repeat itself.

On bad days, pollution still loomed heavy over the atmosphere—remnants of the fires from the Imperial occupation still clinging on to Lothal’s weary bones. She had been stripped during that time; gutted and strung up by her feet to dangle from the Empire’s meat hook, exsanguinated slowly, drop by drop, until she had nothing left to give. Her resources and minerals and ore and water and seed, robbed. Pillaged.

She’s free from it now, but the scars remain— the planet remembers. Her people do not forget. Like muscle memory, they all ungulate to this synthesized rhythm they can’t seem to shake, day in and day out, wandering. Forever unsettled.

The planet had always had a diverse population and had become something of a safe haven for other abandoned people fleeing their home worlds, determined to find somewhere - anywhere - for them to survive. Lothal provided that for them. It wasn’t rich or bountiful by any stretch, but it was simple and safe—safe in the way hidden things in plain sight are. One could blend into the crowd of many, unique faces, of all races and backgrounds; you could be anonymous, if you wanted. You could be free.

That’s how you’ve found yourself here in Jortho. You had been with the Refugee Relief Movement for the better part of what felt like forever, and they had transferred you to this planet not six weeks ago. You were out on rotation; the RRM sends someone new twice a cycle for the span of a month or two to varying locations to supply rations, aid with the influx of refugees, organize resettlement lodgings, and generally be of assistance when and where you could. However, your tenure on this temperate planet was coming to a close, and soon you’d be flying back to the headquarters on Coruscant before being bounced to another post somewhere out among the stars.

You love your job. You know it’s unpopular to say, but you do. It’s fulfilling and impactful and indescribably special. The individuals you meet, the stories you hear, they’re invaluable— priceless and precious, like handmade trinkets crafted by the fingers of a child; you press them all to your heart, holding them there. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t get to you— the weight of it; the plights of all of these people, all of these lives, burdening your conscience. It isn’t always painless— you aren’t immune to it. Even so, on most nights you manage to sleep easy, tucked away aboard the transport freighter you flew in on with the batch of settlers newly assimilated into town knowing Maker, at least you were doing something— anything— everything you could.

And really, to call Jortho a town would be an insult to all towns everywhere—but ‘town’ has a certain charm to it that ‘refugee camp’ simply did not, and it gave the people hope. Pride, even. That they belonged somewhere.

You suppose that’s all anyone wants. To belong.

A feather soft gust of wind tickles the golden blades of prairie grass as the sun, bleary and tired, starts dipping from the sky. The crickbeets begin their song early, trilling, sensing Lothal’s moons still coyly tucked away, hiding somewhere along the horizon. A smile adorns your face, private and serene, as you bring a bowl of broth up to your lips, humming when the warm liquid meets your tongue. You sigh, contented, taking in the sights before you; how the dusk blurs the aromatic air, making it opaque, the shuttles docked across the way from you casting long purple shadows onto the flat plains, the snowcapped mountains in the distance bordering the cant of the planet’s surface, nestling Jortho in a shallow valley.

You feel calm, at peace, and take another sip.

An easy moment passes, and it’s the last one you get before silence stalks up from behind you.

You don’t notice it at first, like any patient predator, it goes undetected: the white noise, the nothingness— until finally, you do and then suddenly it’s everywhere. On top of you. Smothering you. Goosebumps stipple your skin and you bristle. The insects have stopped chirping. The breeze has stilled. The air hangs dead.

And then—

Chaos.

You’re hit with a blast of crushing heat, the sheer power of it picking you up off your feet and onto your side, sending your body careening into a nearby structure. Your shoulder takes most of the blow, but your neck still snaps backwards unnaturally, the back of your head colliding with the stone wall behind you with a dull thwack. You let out a groaned cry at the impact, the wind knocked out of your lungs as you crumple to the ground.

For an instant, your vision goes white, stars popping and fusing out in front of your pupils, and it’s like you can feel everything and nothing all at once, hollow but overwhelmed, and all you want to do is close your eyes and drift asleep— Maker that would feel like a luxury, just right here on the damn dirt. And you almost do, you almost let yourself slip under and sink— until you hear a piercing scream from somewhere close.

Immediately your eyes shoot open, desperately blinking away the blurriness that threatens to over take them, and you try pushing yourself up by the heels of your scraped hands, failing once - twice - before finding your footing. You’re shaky at first, uncoordinated and dizzy and redownloading bipedalism, before that sweet drug of adrenaline starts to course through your veins and finally, finally, you take in your surroundings.

The ships that once stood across the field are gone, obliterated, and in their place only metal ribcages remain—empty carcasses like dead birds splayed on their backsides, imploded from the inside out, their bits strewn all around you.

Your breathing comes hard and heavy, fighting down panic, and cloudy eyes search through the thick black smoke billowing up in stacks, trying to pin point the source of the scream you’d heard just moments ago. You cough a strained wheeze, sputtering against the charred air, and wade your way through the debris— it’s only then that you realize the magnitude of the explosion. It’s not just the landing bay, it’s half the kriffing village. The buildings that neighbored the airfield had been decimated, burning roofs and crumbling fixtures, homes collapsing onto themselves, scorch marks and shrapnel branding the outsides of the shanties left standing.

It looks like a battlefield. You’ve seen holovids of this—what war can look like, how it can ruin a people… But you’ve never had to stand in the middle of it, head on.

Your heart drums against your chest as you break into a hobbled run, desperately scanning the area for any signs of life, up and down, left and right, straining against the waning daylight. It’s then that you hear your name, urgent and frantic, and you whip your head in it’s direction, knees nearly buckling in relief. You immediately recognize your friend Hareem, brandishing her arms at you, waving you over to her.

“Thank the Maker, you’re alright!” the Balosar cries out, trembling hands finding purchase on your shoulders, bracing you. You don’t know if its for your benefit or her own, but either way you’re grateful for the grounding pressure; for the first time since the initial blast, you feel solid, like you won’t just float away, atomized and weightless. Worried, you look her over. A sliver of fresh scarlet blooms from her scalp, a small line trickling down past her temple, but she otherwise looks relatively unharmed. You grasp onto her wrist, squeezing firmly.

“What the hell happened?” You ask, voice low and pitched, wide fearful eyes drilling into her.

“T-There was a man-” And she shakes her head, mouth clamping shut, deep wrinkles framing her face.

“Hareem,” you reassure, giving her another squeeze. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.

She tries again with a steadying inhale, “I-I saw him. A-a man. He had a device with him, and he set charges, and Maker I don’t know— I don’t know— it went off a-and he ran towards the center of town!” The Balosar is in hysterics, tears spilling down her dirty cheeks, and it takes your brain a moment to catch up, to wrap your mind around the words she’s stuttering out.

A man.

Device.

Charges.

A bomb. This wasn’t an accident; this was an attack—and he’s still kriffing here. You cup her cheeks, thumbs rubbing against the pale skin, smearing away the blood that’s nearly dripped to her chin. Your friend’s gaze is flighty, everywhere and nowhere, and you try giving her a smile, but you’re not quite sure you manage it.

“Hareem? Hareem. Hey, shh, you’re okay. You’re alright…” You peel your eyes off her to glance around hurriedly. “We need to find cover.”

///

You’re holed up in one of the few remaining homes on this side of the encampment, crowded into the small space with three other survivors. All four of you, packed in and silent and petrified. Unsure of any further threat, you stay completely still. Helpless. Laying here, idle, for whatever awaits you behind that feeble, wooden door. You feel like prey for the wicked, just passing the time.

Minutes inch along like this—or maybe its hours; time moves eerily different when you’re attempting to become invisible—and eventually, you almost begin to relax.

Almost.

But a new sound breaks the din, hard to recognize at first, indistinct from all the commotion outside their hut, but you hear it. You all do. The youngest of you, a teenaged Devaronian, grips onto the hem of your shirt, knuckles creasing with anticipation. You tense, spine going rigid. Footsteps. They’re slow, guarded, but they’re getting closer. You bring an arm up, for all the good it’ll do, creating a human shield in front of the boy at your side. Closer. Someone behind you muffles a whimper. Closer. A Bardottan you hadn’t even met until today let’s out the faint whisper of a prayer, lips barely ghosting over the phrases. Closer-

and then, nothing.

They’re here. You can sense him, see his shadow sweep across the gaps in the entryway. You all hold your breath, as if the air is being syphoned out of the space… And the door is flung open, nearly breaking off it’s hinges as it slams into the inside of the house, shuttering the rickety walls with a jarring bang.

You don’t know who looks more astonished: you four, or the Mandalorian before you, dripping head to toe in silver plated armor, pointing a blaster directly at your head.

“Where is he?” He asks, hard edged and modulated, and it’s more of a demand than a question—but he lowers his weapon all the same, holstering it at his side. You gape at him, guppying wordlessly. “Volcur X’elo. The bomber. Where?” He hasn’t moved an inch out of the doorframe but he’s still managing to loom over you, completely filling up the archway, shoulders set and impossibly intimidating.

You gulp, finally finding your voice. “In town, i-in the center of town…” Kriff, you had not idea if that intel was good or not, but it’s all you think to say. Seeming satisfied with your answer he turns on his booted heel, cape whipping behind him, leaving just as soon as he arrived. The dust barely has time to settle as the door teeter’s on its hinge, its rusty squeaks filling the void in the Mandalorian’s wake.

“Fuck,” you hiss, exhaling a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, doubling forward, propping your palms up on your knees.

///

After deliberating it with your group, you all come to the agreement of braving it outside. Better to be out under the open sky than die under a concaving apartment, clambering over each other to get to the exit. After all this, at least your dignity was still partially in tact— normally, you reckon you’d chuckle dryly at that. But you don’t.

Can’t.

You lead the pack through the mazelike streets. The sights that once seemed so familiar after weeks of living here become like strangers to you, and you sleepwalk through Jortho, snaking down paths marred by rubble and fallen wreckage— you haven’t seen any bodies, but maybe that isn’t true. Maybe you’re just too scared to notice them. Maybe they’re there, hovering just outside of your peripherals, haunting the corners of your vision…

You keep your head fixed forward, jaw clenched.

Your feet move on their own like this, only vaguely aware that the red-skinned boy still hadn’t let go of your tunic. You forge on. Have to. You have to. Your only purpose on this kriffing planet was to help these people, to bring them aid, and if that means simply planting one foot in front of the other, then so be it. You take side alleys, double backing here and there, ducking under canopies, looping around yourself, only stopping when you catch a glimpse of beskar, the orange setting sun glinting off the surface of his helmet.

And he’s not alone.

You freeze suddenly, as do the rest, and the Devaronian bumps into you, stumbling under his lanky legs. Some paces in front of you, the bounty hunter has the other man, this Volcur X’elo, by a punishing grip on his shoulders, shoving him forcefully out in front of him; his wrists are bound and he’s fitful without the stabilization of his arms, his feet staccatoed and flailing wildly beneath him as the Mandalorian marches him forward.

The wind shifts, and on it you can hear the bomber rant madly, only catching snippets of the vile nonsense that spews from him.“- like swine, they are a plague to the system! And they must be purged from this planet, and the next, and the next— every last filthy one!” You spare a glance to Hareem, to find her watching the scene in hypnotized horror, but your eyes snap back at the sound of something maniacal, drawing your attention. It’s laughter. The zealot begins to laugh a twisted, mocking cry that makes you want to vomit. “You might have me in binders Mandalorian, but you’re too late. You’re too late. This isn’t over!” He’s practically giggling, gleeful and demented. Disturbed. “You’ve only found one.”

Your blood runs cold.

Only one? Oneoneoneone, one what-

The realization hits you with a punch to your gut. He’s only detonated one of his bombs. Somewhere, nearby, there must be another.

Without another word, the Mandalorian whips the smaller man around, pulling him sharply by his collar to collide with his breastplate, completely dwarfing him with his beskar frame. “Where is it, X’elo?” Nothing. Only laughter. High pitched, terrible roars. He tries again, patience ebbing. “The bomb. Now.” X’elo’s head tilts back and he howls another crowing shriek, keeping private his own sick joke, as if clutching a secret to his chest with slimy hands.

The bounty hunter had heard enough. He clearly wasn’t getting anything more out of him, and with a quick strike, he rears his blaster and pistol whips the terrorist with it. The body drops. Volcur X’elo crumples, unconscious, blood streaming from where he was struck. You hear the Bardottan behind you stifle a cry with her fist.

And with that, Lothal’s sun disappears completely, stealing away the last of it’s light as it furls into itself, shrinking out of sight. The dark ushers a new wave of dread, creeping over Jortho like a miasma, poisoning the very air.

The Mandalorian wheels around, searching for his heading in the labyrinth of the town. Others have gathered now, poking their heads around corners, stealing glimpses through windows. He turns, his head on a swivel. “Where is your power generator?” he demands, addressing the small crowd, but you’re all too stunned to speak. “Anybody. Generator. Now.” There’s something new in his voice, something muddled, and it takes you a moment to interpret it. It’s desperation, you realize, tinny and deep through his vocoder, and with a surge of adrenaline you move forward, furthering yourself from your group. You swallow. “I-Its this way.” Upon hearing your voice, he spins around, his visor latching on to you, and with a nod you both set out.

“Watch him,” the Mandalorian growls past his shoulder, stepping over the bounty’s limp body.

///

You’re still not really sure how he knew where it’d be, you wonder to yourself, gravel crunching under foot as you both trudge on, an eery quiet settling over them. You’d say it was a lucky hunch, but judging by the way the Mandalorian carries himself, you doubt luck had much to do with it.

You had led him to the power generator hub on the other side of the sad excuse for a city, traveling in tense silence, and when you came upon that tall, bulky machine he sprang into action, circling it until he found what he was looking for. The bomb. You stood back, rooted there, and after some grunting and rewiring— or maybe he just hacked at it with a vibroblade, you had no idea; his wide frame engulfed his work and you couldn’t tell what he was up to, all you knew was that his methods proved successful— the man managed to disarm the second device. You had thought you noticed his shoulders release, slumping with relief, after the red flashing lights on the rudimentary interface flickered and then went dark.

And so here you are. The two of you, bathed in the bright light of Lothal’s twin moons, their bellies hanging full in the blue-black night, illuminating the trail of blood staining the dirt beneath your boots as the Mandalorian roughly drags the body by his ankle behind him— through the exploded rubble, through the fragmented lives of the people around you, already displaced and estranged. They’ll all have to move, you think, pack up their lives, or what little is left of them, and relocate. Again. The thought sinks in you like a stone, sobering you.

Even with the weight of a fully grown man to lug, the bounty hunter is still a few long strides in front of you and your eyes are trained on the unconscious form, taking in the way his mouth lolls open like an animal, his hair matted with thick blood, eyes rolled back into his head. You’re talking out loud before you even realize it.

“How sick do you have to be,” you mumble, transfixed. Your voice, it’s not angry; no, shock has effectively robbed you of that— it’s not anger, but bewilderment. Quivering, broken bewilderment.

“H-How hoodwinked and warped you’d have to be, how disturbed... For you to think like that. To do all... all this...”

“Hey,” his gruff voice shakes you from your trance, and you blink up at him, tearing your eyes off the body. “Focus,” he urges, and you can only nod dumbly back at him, suddenly feeling a ripple of nausea slither through you.

The ramp to his ship is lowering as they come upon it and you plant yourself at the base, feet seeming to stop on their own accord, and frankly you’re not really sure why you’ve even followed him this far in the first place— always a step behind him as he hauled his bounty all the way through the vestiges of Jortho, across the arid prairie to where he first touched down. Maybe it’s because you feel untethered, unmoored, and all of his steeled surety is like a lighthouse, a beacon, guiding you away from the rocks.

He heaves X’elo up the ramp and you’re left standing there, staring unseeingly into the durasteel, becoming more and more aware of the ringing in your ears. The longer time passes, the more it’s as if you’re underwater, the background blurring into the foreground, sound gargled and far away. A high pitched buzz pinches your ear drums, and it takes you a moment to realize the Mandalorian is calling out to you, trying to get your attention.

“— Dala.”

Does he sound annoyed? Kriff, you think he might... If you had your wits about you, you might be able to recognize it. But as it stands, you don’t. You’re not here, not all of you. You’re splintered. Suspended.

“Hmm? Sorry, what..?” Your mouth is as dry as Jakku— parched desert tongue darting across your cracked lip, tasting soot and ash and something metallic. Brow furrowed, you touch a shaky finger to the flesh and when you pull it back, crimson red dots your skin.

Oh, you think, numb. Huh.

Your eyes skitter back up to the Mandalorian, towering over you, nearly at the apex of the incline, and his stance is broad and his fists are clenched. You’re almost positive he’s glaring down at you through his visor, and you don’t even know the man, can’t even see his damn face, but you can tell he’s peeved— Maker, just how long had you been ignoring him?

A scratched noise comes through his helmet’s vocoder and his next words are clipped, punctuated. “I said, do you have a way off this skug hole?”

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chaos-is-my-lifeblood · 2 years

Note

For the no excuse writing ask game. THE END

THE END — i’ll make up an ending, or post the ending if i’ve written it

Oh no, endings, my one weakness-

Alrighty, one Daniel in Denial ending coming right up.

As Sam crouched over Valerie, desperately attempting to staunch the flow of blood from her side, she had to wonder. Where was Phantom? He hadn't appeared with the flow of ghosts seeking refuge, nor had he appeared when Pariah's army had attacked.

Which left the humans to resist, when the Ghost King himself had come. Right now, he was out there, separated from Valerie and Sam by a few sheets of wood. And now that Valerie was down, and the Fentons were busy repairing the shield, there was only one person left.

...and Fright Knight. Kind of. Sam didn't know what the deal there was.

A sound, near inaudible compared to the exchange of fire just past those few sheets of wood, caught Sam's ear. She spun her head, glaring at an innocuous doorway. Seconds passed, with no further movement.

Until Vlad emerged. He looked impressed in that condescending way of his, hands high in surrender and lips pulled back in a smirk. "My, my, how attentive. Don't worry, it's just little old me. You should be more concerned about your friend there."

Reluctantly, Sam conceded the point. Making a scene here would probably draw Pariah Dark's attention, and nobody wanted that.

Still, she couldn't help tensing when Vlad sauntered closer. Valerie was her patient, and Sam didn't know what was up with Vlad, but she did not trust him. Her voice was clipped and short when he crossed the imaginary line that was 'too close'. "Go do something useful. I'm sure you got better to do than hang out with little old me."

Vlad laughed, a fake thing. "Oh, how c-gakkk"

Sam looked up just in time to see Ellie drag Vlad back into a portal that had definitely not been there the last time she looked. In a second the portal closed, and both Ellie and Vlad were gone.

...Okay. That was a thing that happened.

Danny could say, with a solid 99.9% certainty, that this day Kind Of Sucked. Except replace 'Kind Of' with 'Really'.

And it didn’t look like it would improve anytime soon. Pariah Dark swung his mace down once more, and once more, Danny barely managed to evade it. He’d have to ask Ellie to pass on thanks for Clockwork’s gift; if not for that, he wouldn’t be able to use any of his powers in human form, and he’d be even more Absolutely Fucked than he already was. And that was saying something.

Danny flung another wall of flames, which were promptly shrugged off. From the small peanut gallery of one, he could hear a considering hmmm. “Your flames must have intent, when you use them. You are here to strike fear into the hearts of your enemies.”

“Thanks, Fright Knight, but I really don’t think that applies here.” Pariah’s mace came flying at Danny once more, and he made sure to grab the handle before it passed him. Danny had learned about its boomerang-esque properties the hard way, and he wasn’t forgetting that anytime soon. “Is there not anything else you could do? Stabby stab?” Ooh, if Fright Knight would lend their sword, that may actually be helpful, even if they didn’t do any fighting themself. “Maybe-”

In Danny’s momentary distraction, one of Pariah’s hits finally connected. The next thing Danny knew, he was on the ground, arms pinned to his sides. Pariah loomed over him. “It was a well-fought battle, but you have lost. Do you concede?”

Danny wrinkled his nose. “What happens if I concede? What happens if I don’t concede?” Would it be like sitting out in a game of dodgeball at school? Because now that he thought about it, that sounded pretty nice. Maybe he could just hang out with Fright Knight. Play a few rounds of Doom, catch up on lost sleep, possibly even work on that overdue essay.

“Should you concede, you will become part of my army, and serve me.”

Oh, damn, there went Danny’s hopes to chill. “Not really interested in being drafted, thanks.” And if Danny was going to serve anyone, he at least expected to get paid. Something told him that Pariah wasn’t in the habit of giving his skeleton soldiers that good old cash money.

The pressure of Pariah’s foot on Danny’s chest increased. “And if you refuse, then I will make you a ghost, and you will serve me anyway.” Pariah drew the sword strapped to his waist, hefting it with ease.

Oh. Pariah had not just said that. Danny felt himself settle into a long-practiced calm, face easily adopting an expression of slight befuddlement.

“Wait, what? Ghosts are fake.”

Pariah’s pressure let up, just for a moment.

And it was in that very moment that Kyle Weston, wearing the Fenton Ecto-skeleton, crashed right into Pariah Dark.

After the battle was over, and Pariah Dark was... properly disposed of, Danny left. Not far; barely past the edge of Amity, really. He just needed to think. Above, countless stars covered the sky, and the moon was just short of full.

Gravel crunched beside him. “Wassup?”

Danny hummed noncommittally. “Not much. Not anymore, at least.” Now that all - or, well, most of the ghosts were cleared from Amity, it was calm. Except for reconstruction efforts, but those were always happening, anyway. Amity Park was renown for its infrastructure.

Besides Danny, Johnny nodded. “That must’ve been a fun past day. Very eventful.”

That got a groan from Danny. “Don’t remind me.”

Of course, Johnny ignored the request. “You know, I heard the funniest thing, earlier. A human defeated the Ghost King. Do you know how ghost royalty works?”

Nope nope nope nope-

“The one who defeats the previous ruler inherits their position. And I met with Fright Knight earlier, and he said that it was a human who defeated Pariah. That’s the funniest thing, isn’t it? A human as Ghost King?”

Danny slumped back against the grass. “No, shut up, I know what you’re going to say. I don’t want to be Ghost King.”

Johnny’s face held a frown, but his voice was bright with mischief. “Awww, but I think it would suit you perfectly. You’re so goodhearted, so responsible. Just what the Infinite Realms need.”

“No, I’m not fighting him.” Danny let his lips curl, side-eyeing Johnny. “Besides, I think ‘Ghost King Kyle’ has a nice ring to it.”

#don't hold me to this I have no idea about half of the events that precede this lmao #in what i've written so far #vlad hasn't even met danno yet. gog.#talk about slowburn plot #danny denial #danny phantom #writing #ellie kidnapping vlad #no idea wtf going on there lmao #damn i really just wrote this huh

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just-your-local-astronaut · 3 years

Text

Out of this world hq fanfics, my favorites (part two)

Please check trigger warnings before reading any of these fics. <3

I’m also taking requests for recommendations. Just fill out the form in the pinned post on my page.

☆彡::･★彡･::･☆彡･:*:★☆彡::･★彡･::･☆彡･:*:★☆彡::･★彡･::･☆

Title: Something Like Us

Author: the_madame21

No Archive warnings

Rating: E

Ship: Iwaizumi/Oikawa (IwaOi)

Length: 10 chapters, 28,916

Status: Completed

Author’s summary: Friends since childhood, Oikawa and Iwaizumi now live together, both playing for the National Team. It's no secret that athletes who are bonded perform better. So if the two of them happen to bond...It'd be for the good of the team, right?

The words in the stars say: Shawtys, don’t yell at me for recommending another Omegaverse fic, it’s so good though, and I’m just goin down my list of favs and they were right under each other. Anyways, I love this fic. This story persistently describes the pinning on both sides perfectly. You can clearly see the turning point when Oikawa’s goal changes as the bond further affects his and Iwa’s lives, both positively and negatively. This is one of my favorite IwaOi Omegaverse fics. This story gives the understanding of being connected to the one you love, no matter how it came about, a completely different meaning.

I rate this fic 10 aliens out of 10, please read and if you do talk to me about the convenience store scene, it’s my favorite part :).

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10991091/chapters/24479244

☆彡::･★彡･::･☆彡･:*:★☆彡::･★彡･::･☆彡･:*:★☆彡::･★彡･::･☆

Title: Twitch

Author: CheekyBrunette

No Archive warnings

Rating: Not rated

Ship: Kageyama/Hinata (KageHina)

Length: 6 chapters, 72,501 words

Status: Completed

Author’s summary: "He was aware of the itch he’d feel before he shook his head or scrunched his nose. He recognized the impulse to move, but he didn’t realize how compulsive the behaviors had become. He had to shake his head. He had to scrunch his nose. He had to shrug his shoulders over, and over, and over.It wasn’t until he was nine-years-old that Shouyou realized he couldn’t control his movements like other kids could."

The words in the stars say: I really loved this AU. I wasn’t sure how I would feel about it at first but as I kept reading I enjoyed it more and more. In this fic Hinata having Tourette's made so much sense. I love how the author used actual habits Hinata has in the anime, explained them in the story, and how they work with Tourette’s. The difference between who Kageyama was in the beginning, compared to how he was at the end made me so happy. He clearly learned how he should be treating Hinata with or without feelings and Hinata’s Tourette’s. Such a sweet read for my Kagehina stans.

I rate this fic 10 aliens out of 10.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6103802/chapters/13991060

☆彡::･★彡･::･☆彡･:*:★☆彡::･★彡･::･☆彡･:*:★☆彡::･★彡･::･☆

Title: The Outside Edge

Author: Ray (RayWritesStuff)

No Archive warnings

Rating: M

Ship: Bokuto/Akaashi (BokuAka)

Length: 30 chapters, 201,662 words

Status: Incomplete. Hasn’t been updated since 2/15/21 (Imma cry)

Author’s summary: Akaashi Keiji is a competitive figure skater, and has been his whole life. Ever since he could remember, he's always been pushed by everyone around him to be great. To never fail. To satisfy his mother's desire of him going to the Winter Olympics.Everything was going fine for him, his routine at the rink with his friends running smoothly. Until one day, the University Hockey team was temporarily moved to his rink. Thanks to his meddling best friend, Akaashi is pushed into introducing himself to well-known hockey star Bokuto Koutarou. His attraction to the wild-eyed and kind-hearted man is almost instant.Akaashi soon finds himself falling all to fast for his liking. Before he could catch himself, he was pushed out of his comfort zone and into worlds beyond. As his new relationship with Bokuto blossoms, he learns that his worth is so much more than his performance, and to accept the haunting truths in his life he's been running from for so long.

The words in the stars say: I’m a sucker for figure skater x hockey player au’s and man, WHY ARE THEY ALWAYS INCOMPLETE. *SLAMMING ON DESK NOISES* I love them so much, lmk if yall find any others. This fic was just *kiss*. I loved it. It represented Akaashi so well and his mental state as a figure skater. I got the whole experience, I finished it and then went ice skating (unplanned, surprisingly). Bokuto is such a sweet heart and every time he forgave Akaashi while he was struggling, warmed my heart (unlike my fingers while I type this sheesh). I adored the IwaOi, DaiSuga, and KuroKen in the background.

10/10 completely. I love this fic so much even with it being abandoned. </3

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24690535/chapters/59671282

☆彡::･★彡･::･☆彡･:*:★☆彡::･★彡･::･☆彡･:*:★☆彡::･★彡･::･☆

Title: A Thousand Cuts

Author: lettersinpetals

Underage - Archive Warning

Rating: Teen and up

Ship: Sakusa/Atsumu (SakuAtsu)

Length: 3 chapters, 37,963 words

Status: Complete

Author’s summary: “I’m Atsumu! What’s your name?” The boy mumbled out an answer, and because his voice was muffled by his mask, all Atsumu heard was “...Omi.”“Omi?”“Kiyoomi,” the boy said in a much clearer voice. But Atsumu was already attached to the name. “Omi-Omi! Let’s go!” Shamelessly, he grabbed him by the hand and tugged him behind him. He felt responsible for him — the boy clearly needed all the protection and guidance he could get. Atsumu can be his hero.--The story started when the Sakusa family moved into their neighborhood in Amagasaki when they were nine. Atsumu would always remember that he saw Kiyoomi first.

The words in the stars say: Lettersinpetals has to be one of my absolute favorite hq fic writers. Their SakuAtsu fics are the ones I will ALWAYS rec. This story is a beautiful rollercoaster. I don’t even know how many times I cried (happy ending dw dw) while reading this. I love the childhood friends AU for SakuAtsu plus Osamu and Suna’s drama that pulls you into a heartbreaking story. Lettersinpetals blows me away every damn time I read a fic of theirs. PLEASE PLEASE, read this fic.

I rate this 10 out of 10 aliens.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27094666/chapters/66160312

☆彡::･★彡･::･☆彡･:*:★☆彡::･★彡･::･☆彡･:*:★☆彡::･★彡･::･☆

Title: Butterfly in the Subway

Author: bigspoonnoya @plotghosts

No Archive warnings

Rating: Teen and up

Ship: Daichi/Sugawara (DaiSuga)

Length: 14 chapters, 62,872 words

Status: Completed

Author’s summary: Sugawara Koushi has no idea he's already in love with the man he's supposed to hate

The words in the stars say: This fic. Oh my god. This fic made me want to have a penpal I write love letters to even when I have no idea who they are. I’m a sucker for poetry and letters, this story was a dessert for me. I adore Suga owning a bookstore. Also the background KageHina, AsaNoya, and TsukkiYama? YES. This fic lives in my head rent free in English class. The scene in the café with Suga and Daichi, I just- *dies*. Read this fic now. It’s amazing and I reread it all the time when I’m sad, such a heartfelt read. I can’t express how much I love this fic.

!!!!SPOILER!!!! “I hoped. I wanted it to be you.” *sobbing* !!!!SPOILER!!!!

I rate this fic 10 out of 10 aliens.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3576108/chapters/7880601

☆彡::･★彡･::･☆彡･:*:★☆彡::･★彡･::･☆彡･:*:★☆彡::･★彡･::･☆

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﹕Thank you for reading!

﹕What did you think?

﹕Dms are always open. Come talk! ╰﹒┄﹒✦ ˚ ̟ ハ︿︿ ๑ ┄┄┄┄┄┄﹒

<3 -Cal

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