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kaciebello · 3 months

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Band-aids of death

Masterlist Luke Castellan x Hades! reader (implied, fem) Percy Jackson x Hades! reader (platonic) Summary: Percy meets the bandaid dealer who has his friend so smitten Warning: Absolutely non, teeth rotting stuff really, no use of y/n author note: English is not my first language so I am sorry for any mistakes beforehand. I read the books long ago and I'm currently in the process of re-reading them, so some lore might be wrong. Also using what I remember from the show! Proofread by me and me only :( word count: 1347

Percy has been at this camp stuff for a week now and he was just not loving it. From the overcrowded cabin 11 to Clarisse's relentless bugging, he just wanted to go home. This was his home now, yes, but that does not mean he can't yearn for better. And on top of all that, it seemed like he was good at absolutely nothing. If there was a competition at being bad at everything he would still somehow end up in second place.

Today was no better. Luke, Counselor of the Hermes cabin, has decided that maybe Percy could take on a sword fight. He couldn't. Not like he could go against the best swordsman in the last 300 years anyway.

After what felt like hours, Luke finally gave the boy a break and Percy finally felt like he could breathe. Only for a second that is, because his friend decided to take him to a new area of the camp.

Walking to a small building only lightly connected to the infirmary was rather ominous. While everywhere in the camp where people, this shack could be abandoned and he would not be surprised. His friend. However, walked faster than normally, seemingly excited to show him what's inside.

They stopped by the open door and Percy could finally see that it was not abandoned and the little two-story house was, indeed, occupied. Looking at his friend with suspicion, who now sports a wide grin on his face, Percy could not help but think there was more to it than Luke said.

Walking in, Luke chimes the bell that sits on the top of the door frame. The girl who, until now, was checking out the shelves of what seems to be medicine and chemicals turns around with a confused look. She wore the same ‘ camp uniform ‘ as everyone else, confirming to Percy that she was one of them as well. Although her shirt seemed to have switched color schemes and was black with an orange print of the camp name.

“ Hello Sweetheart, how's the inventory going?” Luke asks and pushes Percy slightly in front of him, not something he appreciates. The girl, unamused, does not answer his question. Instead, she answers him with her own.

“ What brings you here, Castellan? Last time I checked you did not need allergy medication.” Chuckle could be heard from his friend. Percy, not interested in their bickering, looks around the room. Small table by the door with a stack of paper, a black mysterious jar, and what Percy recognizes as an old land-line phone. One wall of the room was just a shelf with what he now knows for sure is medicine with a door at the end. By the window, there was an old medical bed, and next to it, stood, by Percy's standards, an unstable chair.

A hand on his shoulder snaps him out and he turns his head back to the girl. “ So what's wrong with you?” She asks and motions him to sit on what seems to be a more sturdy version of the same chair he just saw.

“ Other than that I suck at everything and my father not bothering to claim me? Nothing much really.” Laugher was heard from the two older campers.

“ No, I meant like, why are you here guys? If you were training with Lu here, you might have some scratches.” She points to Luke, who seems to be proud just of the fact that she acknowledges him. Before he can answer she continues,

“Although if you're seriously hurt, maybe you should visit the Apollo kids, I ain’t no nurse, really.”

“ No need for that, we just need some band-aids.” Luke proclaims and pats his chest where his heart is.

“ You have bandaids in your cabin, and I know for sure, I saw your siblings steal some. “ she snapped back softly at his friend.’ It's in their nature’ Luke says under his nose and takes a few steps to the girl putting his arm around her shoulders.

“ Sweetheart here is a terrible nurse-”

“Hey! I am an excellent necromancer!”

“Too bad that your patient is still alive, Sweets,” Luke argues back at the girl. She just shakes her head and walks behind her desk. Luke follows closely behind her like a magnet was pulling him over. Percy watches as she opens a drawer and pulls out the biggest box of band-aids he has ever seen.

“ What kind do you want, em…” She looks at him kinda awkwardly.

“Percy.” “ Right, Percy, do you want Spiderman band-aid? It's a big hit with the younger campers.” She smiles and pulls out an impressive collection of Spiderman band-aids.

“ Ah, no, normal ones are fine.” I watch as a pout appears on her face as she puts them back and starts to look through the box as if looking for something.

“I want the Spiderman one.” Chimes in Luke who is now leaning over this girl.

“ You can get the boring ones, Castellan, I don't care.” It was now Luke's turn to pout. “ What cabin are you from?” Percy asks, wanting to learn some more about the girl that has his friend so smitten. Her eyes look up at him before going back to her box.

“ I don't have a cabin, I sleep on the second floor. There is a staircase in the back.” She says as it is the most normal thing ever. Which it was, just not in camp half-blood. That confuses Percy, from what he learned at the camp so far, everyone that has been claimed either has a cabin or just sleeps in Hermeses one. So that is exactly why he asks.

“ Why don't you sleep in Hermes cabin?” The girl straightens her posture, seeming in thought. His friend hugged her from behind around her shoulders. They remind him of an old married couple.

“Well, there are cabins for the twelve Olympians. My dad has no throne on Olympus. He kinda does his own thing down under.”

“ Australia?”

“No Percy, the underworld.” She says though giggles and wiggles herself from the hug. She makes her way forward to Percy and stands in front of him carefully peeling parts of the band-aid.

“ Your dad is Hades?” Hum leaves her as an answer. Focusing on placing the band-aid right above his eyebrow where he scratched himself earlier during training with Luke. When she's done, she turns to a black jar on her table and opens it. To Percy's surprise, she pulls out a lollipop and gives it to him.

“You're good to go fighter, Don't stay here longer than you need to!” She sings and ushers the boy out of the chair and to the door. Percy turns to his friend,

“ Luke, are you not coming?” he asks waiting for him to answer. Luke gives him a look of fake thought, Percy knows it's fake because he, himself used it many times back at the academy. Luke shakes his head and smiles.

“No, I haven't been treated by my nurse yet.” The girl groans and snaps her head to the sky. Percy just shrugs and walks out of the building. As he opens his lollipop, he turns his head back to look at his friends.

He can see Luke being peppered with kisses on his face. When the girl moves he can see a band-aid with hearts that now decorates the scar on his face. Percy just chuckles and moves on, determined to find Grover or Annabeth to tell them what he witnessed. He failed to notice his bright blue bandaid with bubbles on it.

#luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson x fem!reader #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson fic #percy jackson x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan #percy jackson #percy pjo #percy series

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captain-hawks · 2 months

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reticent desire

— alhaitham x f!reader

summary — despite your best efforts, you never quite could catch the attention of the akademiya’s aloof scribe. at least that’s what you thought, until an expedition goes awry and you find yourself pressed up against him within the confines of a small, dark closet with little room left for the secrets that linger between you.

18+ ONLY

wc — 2.4k

content — fingering, dirty talk, semi-public sex, unprotected p in v, creampie, oral fixation, finger sucking

“I notice everything when it comes to you.” Alhaitham’s nose brushes against the back of your neck, and your legs nearly give out at the feeling of his soft lips ghosting over your skin as he sighs, “Even if I may not show it.”

“Stop fidgeting.”

Alhaitham’s breath is hot against your skin as he murmurs the words, lips just barely brushing against the shell of your ear. Eyes falling shut, you inhale silently, palm pressed firmly against the door in front of you as you bite back a retort about counterintuitive circumstances and the like. His tone is laced with his usual dose of annoyance, though it’s also pitched with something else you can’t quite put a finger on.

At least not while you’re crammed together in a small storage room inside of a run down old shack deep in the woods outside of Sumeru City. Hiding.

This was, for all intents and purposes, meant to be a run-of-the-mill expedition. A brief afternoon spent traipsing through one of the safer paths in the Avidya Forest to gather crystalflies. However, stumbling upon a rogue group of Eremites was not on the agenda.

There’s a sharp prick on the sensitive skin of your inner thigh—fucking Sumerian bugs—and despite the sweltering weather that inspired it, you’ve sorely begun to regret the dress that you slipped on earlier this morning before hurrying to meet Alhaitham outside the steps of the Akademiya. You can’t help but let out a strangled gasp, unintentionally pressing back into Alhaitham as you rub a hand over the bite, but your pained noise is cut off by a hand clapping over your mouth just as the outer door to the hut swings open.

The stinging pain fades to a dull throb as boots scuff along the floorboards, though the relief only lasts for a moment before it begins to itch. Your fingers flex against your skin as you trap your hand between your thighs in frustration, like that’ll make it stop.

And then all remaining thoughts swiftly exit your brain at the feeling of Alhaitham’s free hand joining your own, fingers interlocking with yours as he grasps your thigh and holds your hand still.

“It’s like you want to get caught,” he mutters chastisingly, and you nearly shudder at the sudden sensation of a kiss of elemental energy skittering along your skin.

Alhaitham’s not a healer, not even close. But the bit of dendro power that he’s carefully channeling through his fingertips is just enough to take off the edge, the feeling akin to stepping outside into the soothing caress of a cool evening breeze. You can’t help the way your head drops back against his shoulder, his hand sliding over your jaw and coming to rest against your neck as your lips fall open in a pitiful little exhale of relief.

The two of you stay like that long after the cabin goes silent, luck clearly on your side as the Eremites prove not to be thorough enough to check behind each and every door. Alhaitham’s chest rises and falls against your back, and you’re half certain you’ve begun to hallucinate when you feel his thumb trail over your collarbone.

You can’t deny your attraction to the silver-haired scribe, the feeling something that’s lingered passively in your consciousness from the very day you first shook his hand in the Akademiya’s library when one of the scholars introduced you to him.

But despite your somewhat embarrassing attempts to garner his attention in those days—from dresses that hardly earned a second glance to comments that couldn’t be construed as anything less than outwardly suggestive—he remained aloof and indifferent. Undoubtedly uninterested.

It’s why you try not to put too much stock into his actions now, which are hardly worth overthinking given the lack of square footage to be found in your current circumstances.

“I don’t believe this outfit was the best choice for an expedition,” he breaks the silence, the sound of the Eremites hooting and yelling growing further and further away by the second.

(You should reach for the door knob.)

You roll your eyes, though he can’t see it from where he’s situated. “I’ll be sure to find something more to your liking next time,” you retort, though you know he’s referring less to the way the fabric looks and more to the way you’d had to abandon most of your modesty during the initial chase with the Eremites, skirt billowing every which way as you dashed through the woods beside him.

(You should really reach for the door knob.)

He huffs, tongue clicking against his teeth. “I didn’t say I don’t like it.”

Warmth blooms in your chest, your mouth going dry. This time, it’s Alhaitham that shifts slightly behind you—and you can’t blame him, given how long he’s been a stock-still, solid presence behind you. The model example of how not to get caught, really.

But it’s then that you finally feel it, something undeniably hard pressing against your backside. Your insides go molten, the heat curling in your abdomen coiling into something tangible and insistent, something that has you arching back into him on instinct before you can think better of it.

Alhaitham’s erection catches between the globes of your ass, the thin cotton of your dress leaving little to the imagination, and he groans. It’s a rough, gravelly sound that rumbles in his chest, complemented by a heavy exhale that sends a shiver down your spine as it hits the back of your neck.

(And though you’ve imagined that exact sound far more times than you’d ever admit, it pales in comparison to the real thing.)

He trails one hand along your bare shoulder, fingertips just barely grasping one of the thin straps lying there. “It’s been a while since you’ve worn this.”

It’s completely silent outside of the shack now, and the two of you could easily move this conversation to somewhere less confined.

Less dark.

Less intimate.

“I’m surprised you noticed,” you reply carefully.

Your mind reels, racing to catch up with the liquified remains of your nerves.

A sound that borders on frustration leaves his lips as he hooks a fingertip under the strap of your dress, sliding the digit along the fabric until the knuckle rests against your shoulder blade.

“Your little scholar wouldn’t like this situation very much, I don’t think.”

You swear you feel him shudder with restraint, ever so slightly.

“That’s long over,” you tell him softly, reaching one hand back and weaving your fingers into Alhaitham’s hair, barely sparing a second thought for the fellow scholar you’d spent a few nights occupied with months and months ago.

(In an attempt to get over him.)

He inhales sharply, one large hand now splayed across your abdomen. The strap of your dress falls from your shoulder, and his lips are a scorching brand of heat as he presses a kiss to the side of your neck, his tongue pressing into your pulse point.

There’s noise again, likely coming from the well-trodden dirt path just outside the cabin, and both of you stiffen for a moment.

And then his hand dips a bit lower, fingertips grazing the sensitive heat between your thighs, and you have to bite back a whimper. Danger be damned, you’re helpless to resist the urge to grind back into the insistent, hard cock that’s pressed firmly against your ass. Alhaitham growls, bunching up the skirt of your dress and cupping your sex through your panties.

Your very soaked panties, which audibly squelch under the pressure of his fingers.

“Archons…” he rasps, teeth grazing the hinge of your jaw before he begins to suck and nip at the sensitive patch of skin.

Alhaitham nudges your legs further apart with one booted foot, and your muscles tighten as you whine when he pushes one finger inside of you though the barrier of your underwear, the cotton material slick against your dripping walls. He sounds nearly reverent as he vocalizes how wet you are for him, and both of you moan in unison when he tugs your panties aside and finally sinks a bare digit into your tight cunt.

“So fucking wet,” he exhales roughly, his hips twitching as he rocks into you.

You reach backward, palming at Alhaitham’s erection, and your mouth waters as your fingers feel out the sheer size of his thick, achingly hard cock. A hand grasps your chin, turning your head back as well, and a pair of lips comes crashing into yours in a hungry, frantic kiss.

Alhaitham moans into your mouth as you stroke him through his pants, swallowing down your own mewling noises as he slips a second finger into your pussy, wet, sticky arousal generously dripping down the inside of your thighs.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought of this,” he breathes out, momentarily breaking the kiss, saliva trailing between your lips. “How many times I imagined taking you right over my desk in one of those little dresses you love to wear.”

You’re fighting a losing battle with the last dregs of your composure at the bare honesty of his words. He tugs down the other strap of your dress, groaning appreciatively when your breasts spill out, and he wastes no time as he begins to knead them, dragging a thumb over your sensitive, peaked nipples.

Your arousal is a living, breathing thing—a maelstrom of need.

“I wish you would have,” you sigh.

He crooks his fingers inside of you, stroking a spot that leaves you gasping and trembling, nearly careening over the edge. Meanwhile, you take it upon yourself to free his cock from the confines of his pants, swiping a finger over the precum beading at the tip before stroking his warm, bare shaft.

“It’s depraved,” he laughs darkly, pressing greedy kisses down your neck, “the way I’ve dreamed of filling you.”

Your mouth falls open in a silent cry of pleasure; you’re borderline sobbing at this point. You’re certain you’ve never been so aroused in your entire life, every other intimate encounter you’ve had reduced to nothing more than a hazy memory as Alhaitham continues to murmur between messy, hungry kisses—

“...to know that when you walk through the halls of the Akademiya, catching the eyes of every fucking scholar, it’s my cum leaking from your cunt all the while…”

You may very well lose your mind if he doesn’t fuck you right here, right now. And you whimper as much while he continues to fuck you with his fingers.

“...please.”

“You’ll have to be quiet,” he intones, hiking your dress up further as he grasps his thick cock between his fingers, your cunt greedily taking in the head as he notches it at your entrance.

He cups your jaw with his free hand, fingertips grazing your lips, and you swipe your tongue over one of the digits. Tentatively, he begins to slide the digit into your mouth, and an appreciative sound leaves him as you take him even deeper with a hushed moan, tongue wrapping around his finger.

Alhaitham slowly begins to slide his cock inside of you, your soaking wet walls easily giving way to the stretch of his shaft. He slips another finger into your mouth, breathing heavily as he bottoms out within the plush heat of your cunt, murmuring about how fucking good you’re taking him. How incredible you feel.

“So perfect,” he rasps into your ear, steadily pulling his cock out of you before driving back in balls deep.

Drool slides down your chin, the wanton cries of pleasure bubbling up inside of you muffled by the sloppy, wet sounds of you eagerly sucking on his fingers as your body vibrates with pleasure.

With each stroke of his hips, Alhaitham’s thrusts grow more rough, more desperate. You’re throbbing with desire, with need, with the unbearable urge to moan and scream for him until your throat is raw.

And he must know it, must want that as badly as you do, because he rasps, “I want to hear you next time.” Your walls flutter as he drags his cock out of you before slamming back into your needy hole, cock bullying its way through the tight grasp of your pussy as deep as it can go. His spit-slick fingers stay lodged in your mouth as he continues, “I want to know every sound that I can drag out of these pretty little lips of yours.”

You’re helpless to hold back your answering moan as your thoughts stray to the promise of Alhaitham fucking you elsewhere, beyond the confines of this small, dark closet. He drags his fingers over your throbbing clit as his shaft massages your inner walls at a pace that’s rapidly becoming frenzied.

He pulls your lips back into a kiss that’s all ravenous tongues and teeth, and his tone is somewhere between a command and a plea as he groans, “Let me feel you come on my cock.”

With the circles he’s rubbing into your aching bundle of nerves and the continuous sink and drag of his shaft in your plush hole, you part your lips further and let him lick his way into your mouth as you comply. Cunt spasming, your entire body trembles and shakes as you gush on his cock, going lightheaded with the force of your orgasm while you whimper his name.

“Fuck,” he gasps, his thrusts growing erratic until he plunges deep inside of you one last time, your kiss reduced to heaving breaths against one another’s lips as you feel hot ropes of cum spill into your cunt, filling you to the brim.

You’d collapse to the floor, probably, if there were room to do so.

Alhaitham wraps his arms around you, holding you close for what could be minutes or hours, you’re not quite sure how to measure the passage of time with your mind reduced to a hazy fog of pleasure and bliss. When he eventually pulls his softened cock out of you, he groans quietly as he briefly slips a finger into your cum-filled cunt before quickly pulling up your panties.

You finally turn to face Alhaitham. He flattens down the skirt of your dress, one hand lingering against your hip bone as he presses his lips to yours once more.

“I’ll clean you up when we get back,” he murmurs, a promise in the filthy, hungry, broad stroke of his tongue as he parts the seam of your lips.

likes, comments, &/or reblogs are appreciated<3!

#alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin impact x reader #dee writes

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fryingpan1234567 · 11 months

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some CHB headcanons

every cabin has LEDs around the inside, but there’s a constant battle over what color they are

Percy has his rippling back and forth from teal to blue and it looks like light dancing through water all over his walls and floor

the Apollo cabin can usually settle for orange and yellow as a common ground

the Aphrodite kids have a different color for each time of day and sleep with pink on the lowest brightness setting

the Hermes cabin has like ten different strips and they’re all constantly shifting

Demeter cabin’s shifts with the seasons

ANYWAYS MOVING AWAY FROM THE LEDS

they have movie nights, which I will talk about in a different post

before everybody goes back to school, the Aphrodite and Hecate cabins have a massive salon at the end of the summer with new haircuts and magic hair dye and outfit recommendations and fake but enchanted sturdy nails and a whole bunch of other stuff and basically it’s a week straight of spilling hot tea between everyone in camp

if someone asks where a camper got their hair done when they get back to school they just go “oh, um… summer camp.” and their friends will snort and be like bro isn’t summer camp the opposite of a makeover?? but they get no argument, just a shrug and a half smile

when I tell you pride month over there is a fucking riot

because Mr. D is in on it, right?? because he’s the god of gender?? and Chiron is aroace and has been raising dumbass gay heroes for literal centuries?? PLUS the sheer fucking amount of queer peeps up in there?? dude yeah

cabins competing for who shows the most pride

Demeter’s roof is covered in rainbow flowers

Hecate’s is enchanted to emit actual light in whatever flag colors of whoever uses the front door, even when they’re straight (it’s just a rainbow)

Percy collects a bunch of shed scales from the hippocampi at the bottom of the lake and then puts them all over his cabin

I could make a whole post about CHB pride but

every single Apollo kid is also a theater kid fight me

Rachel Elizabeth Dare painted a skateboard for Percy’s birthday and he brings it everywhere now, it even sits in his backpack at school

Leo, Annabeth, Percy, and Piper fucking love horror movies. Frank, Hazel, and Jason fucking hate them. They watch through their fingers, if at all

Piper loves the band Surfaces with all her heart, but she also is a die hard Green Day and P!ATD fan

Jake Mason is covered in burn scars up to his neck, just like Deadpool, just not bald lol

Hephaestus and Apollo kids faintly radiate warmth (like more so than a normal person)

the Stolls sometimes stay at camp year-round because their mom is off on international missions that are too high-risk for them to help with

the seven are AVID Smash Bros players

really everyone but

not as many people go to the Athena campers for help with homework as you might think, but whenever anyone does, they’re happy to help

the sun chariot blasts music at a frequency only the Apollo kids can hear, so their life kind of has a shitty soundtrack that consists of a mix of Broadway, Queen, modern stuff, and random bits of Beethoven every now and then

the Romans swear on few occasions

the Greeks know when to swear and when to be polite

the Valhalla peeps swear unbridled and all the time

the Egyptians never swear (in English)

for the longest time, Will Solace thinks the only gift from his dad is his healing prowess— which is obviously great, but he expresses being upset over the fact that he’s not very good at archery

well, considering this is the dumbass who didn’t bring a weapon to actual fucking Tartarus, Nico drags him to the weapon shack thing immediately afterwards and made him pick something out

he's immediately drawn to the Celestial Bronze shotgun.

Nico’s just like “what in the redneck shit did you just pick up” and Will jokingly aims it at his chest and grins and says “you know I’m from Texas, right?”

that’s how they find out Will is one of the damn best marksmen in Greek demigod history

some of the Disney nerds in the Apollo cabin sing What Once Was Mine to the little ones who need bandaids for knee scrapes and give them lollipops afterwards

Percy Jackson absolutely used to make poverty and struggle meal jokes all the time, but he got weird and concerned looks for it at CHB, so he kind of just stopped. But one day, aboard the Argo II, the PERFECT opportunity came up and he just HAD TO and as per usual— everyone else looked at him like he’s crazy— but Leo laughed so hard chocolate milk came out of his nose and that’s the story of how the two of them became Best Friends

#anyways idk what came over me #riordanverse #percy jackson #leo valdez #jason grace #Annabeth Chase #hazel levesque #frank zhang #piper mclean #Will Solace #nico di angelo #solangelo #valgrace #Jake Mason #connor stoll

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ooffmlsorry · 6 months

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Baby, It's Cold Outside

A/N: I swear I'm gonna work on my prompt posts after this but it was unexpectedly cold today and I was not ready 😭

Your feet crunched loudly underneath you. The snow comes up to your shines, forcing you to take high trudging steps. The wind is throwing snowflakes into your face, and your tears live short liquid lives before turning to ice on your cheeks.

So far, your first experience with snow is...hell on earth.

If hell froze over, that is.

The rest of the crew were completely comfortable in the weather, but what could you expect? The navigator was a polar bear after all. Someone had said something about part of the crew being from the frigid North Blue, which was suddenly beginning to make sense.

"There's gotta be something wrong with him," you muttered into the scarf wrap around the lower half of your face. It was swampy and damp against your skin, collecting snot and condensation from your breath. Disgusting. But at least it kept your lips and nose from going numb.

The plan was to rendezvous with the rest of the crew on the other side of the island. Bepo was leading the others across, and as the next best thing to a navigator, you were to guide and stay with Law to wait for them at this shabby excuse for a cabin.

You surveyed the white wasteland outside the window. A sheet of startling blue sky loomed overhead. Speaking of Law, you turned to look at your captain just slightly behind you. You couldn't read anything on his expression, but the fact that he didn't look nearly as miserable as you told you enough.

The shack you waited in had nothing except four walls and a fireplace--trees for firewood not included.

"How do you stand this?!" You say. "I'm so cooold!" The end of your whining turns into fake sob.

"Keep your eyes ahead, y/n-ya," Law says. The slight upward pull of his lips turns the neutral resting bitch face he normally has into an amused smirk.

You exaggerate your pout, "that's all I get?! This is my first time in the snow and it's awful! I'm freezing!"

Law chuckles. "It's not my fault you were raised on a tropical island."

Law only wears his hat, a coat--the same one you remember him wearing on Punk Hazard--and a pair of gloves. He's practically naked compared to your hat, gloves, scarf, dense coat, and wool snow pants.

You sigh loudly, your shoulders slump miserably in front of you. Law watches you with a twinkle in his eyes that causes warmth to bloom across your face.

The look in his eyes belays a fondness he normally hides.

He's enjoying this.

"How long do you think it will take the others to get here?" He asks you.

Business as usual, then. You walk back over to the shack's window to observe the sky.

"There's still no sign of clouds. In fact, snow blindness might be an issue for the rest of the crew. They're walking on a plateau, far away from any slopes so they won't have to work against any winds. I'd say three hours? Maybe a little less since some of you are cold weather natives." A draft blows cold winds through the cabin, making you shudder all the way down to your toes. "I can't wait until we literally blow this popsicle stand."

Law wraps his arms around you from behind. His front flush to your back and his chin resting on the top of your head.

"Oh?"

You lean in to him and stuff his hands into your front pockets so you can hold them. Gloved fingers intertwine. You have just enough room to lovingly stroke your thumb across the back of Law's hand. A wordless thank you.

"I won't listen to you complain about how cold it is for that long." Law's voice rumbles from. "I'll warm you up."

You watch the snow drift and dance in the wind through icy windows. You never knew the ice crystals people spoke of were truly crystals, until you saw them on the window. The last time you saw the sky this blue was back on your home island. Cloudless and comfortingly blue.

"It's actually kind of pretty," you say quietly.

"It can be," Law responds. He surprises you further by pressing a kiss to your temple. "You were too busy freezing your ass off to notice."

#one piece x you #one piece #trafalgar law #law x reader #one piece x reader

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theminecraftbee · 5 months

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Tango's half-asleep in a cabin he's sharing with Impulse and Skizz and Joker and Zed. It's been loud the past few days as they set up. Most of them plan on being busy during the break, so they won't all be sharing it that often, but they'd needed a place to crash when they weren't busy doing other things. Impulse had offered to let them stay in the Vault Hunters server, but it's practically tradition, shacking up together in a cabin in the woods and pretending no one can get to them. It's rare that they use the cabin for more than a few weeks--rare any of them need it for that long--but it's nice. Traditional. Useful to drag each other to when they get too workaholic.

Honestly, Tango's just been napping. He'd gotten Decked Out to a place it could be run alone, and then he'd gotten decoupled from Decked Out in a process he doesn't really want to talk about that sort of melted his brain out his ears again. He'd gotten yelled at for getting possessed again, and hugged, and then told to describe in exhaustive detail what being possessed was like because as much as Tango loves his friends, neither Zedaph nor Impulse are like, normal about things like that, and--

Tango's legs had barely worked during the end-of-season party. Turns out being part of a machine for like, three months, has an effect on the body when you're removed from it! Haha. Who would have guessed? He'd shared some drinks with the hermits, conspicuously avoiding alcohol on account of the room spinning enough without it, and then told Impulse he had to leave for his own good, please, Pearl could drink him and Gem under the table stop trying to prove otherwise, and they'd departed.

And Tango had taken a nap. And another nap. And... wait for it... another nap.

It's supposed to be a longer break this season. Tango is contemplating napping for at least a month. He deserves it. For him.

Anyway, he's half-asleep in the cabin, halfway still snoozing and quarter of the way catching up on the technical journals he hadn't been reading while he was Decked Out, and quarter of the way remembering how like, fingers work when they're not being puppeted by a massive death machine of his own design, when he catches a look at the time and date, pauses, and realizes something.

"I forgot," he mumbles. "Huh."

He waits a moment for the howling of the absence Decked Out's wind to be replaced with eerie, indescribable silence, like the world had been replaced for months at the start of the season whenever he saw a reminder. The thing is, though, he's just--he's too tired to grieve more. Tired, and satisfied with his work, and he's safely in a cabin in the woods where Skizzleman is sleeping in the bunk above him, snoring with a loudness only Skizz possesses. His brain is still halfway leaking out of his ears and he still sort of craves raw meat. His tongue is real, by the way. He keeps noticing it? His tongue is real? Man, he'd say he doesn't recommend getting possessed, but he's totally going to do it again, and--

"I forgot," he says again, testing out the word against his lips. "The day I died passed and I forgot about it."

Huh.

He waits a few more minutes for the panic to claw at his chest. It strikes him then, though, that it hasn't for some time, and some of that may have been his brain being used as a processing chip for Decked Out in equal measure with like, being his brain, so he didn't have room for that, but. Even before then. Even in the moments he was the most himself.

Huh.

"Toppers?" Skizz asks from the top bunk. "What are you doing awake, huh? It's, uh--dark, I don't know what time it is, I broke my clock."

"My sleep schedule broke during the Decked Out thing," Tango says, "I told you that."

"Yeah, but like--did you have a nightmare about evil cows or something?"

"Evil--what do you think Decked Out is?"

"I was there! I know what it is!" Skizz says. He pauses a moment. "If you need something..."

Tango lies back and thinks of his friends. They were smiling as they left, this season.

"No, I'm fine. Don't worry about it. It's just that it's 1 AM on the 23rd, is all."

"Oh, man, that late?"

Tango laughs. "Yeah. That late."

He means something different than Skizz.

"Do you think ghosts eat people more if they're sleep-deprived?"

"You are actively going to make it worse for yourself. Also, wait, did you say you broke your clock? How?"

"No, listen--"

He's late.

That's alright.

He'll always have time later.

#hermitcraft #tangotek #(also featuring skizz but not major enough to tag)#a bee fic #i realized i was late for a big moon anniversary fic and then all at once...

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mooshywrites · 3 months

Text

Echoes of Love and Loss ~ Pt 4

Fem!Reader x Halsin

Masterlist

Art Commissions

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A/N - This is the second to last part! Because of that, I’m taking suggestions for another series since I really enjoy this format. Shoot me a DM or send in a request if you have a good prompt <3

Word count - 4.1K

Warnings - Lots of angst, grieving, pregnancy, miscommunication, happy ending incoming I promise

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Part 2 ~ NSFW

Part 3

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“I have to find her”

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Your days began to blur together in a haze of numbness. You’d long since shed all of the tears and felt all of the grief you could muster. All that was left was your survival instinct pushing you forward.

It took a considerably shorter amount of time to return to the Druids grove where you began your adventure, the road from Baldur’s Gate being far more safe now that The Absolute was gone.

Every settlement you passed through was filled with people celebrating. Their cheers and drunken ramblings washed over you without another thought, completely oblivious of what you had lost bringing them this new victory.

When you finally made it to the outskirts of the grove, something stopped you. You were so close. Close enough to even hear the faint chatter of the Druids that lived there.

But there seemed to be some sort of invisible wall between you and them. A heavy stone keeping you grounded from taking the few steps forward.

What would you say when the other Druids inevitably asked about Halsin? Would you be able to handle their unease and pity when it came to your condition? Would they see as you as anything more than the so-called hero who let their friend die?

You gritted your teeth, clutching at your chest as your heart began to pound. The world felt as if it was spinning as the turmoil hit you once again. You swallowed back bile, knowing you had only made your health worse by pushing yourself to get here more quickly.

With a few solidifying breaths, you sighed and turned away. You couldn’t stay here.

There was a small hut in the woods north of the grove. That would have to do for now.

The walk there was short, you might’ve even enjoyed the weather if the situation you found yourself in didn’t continue to bear down on you painfully. When the hut came into view, you grimaced.

It was… definitely a fixer-upper.

It was probably for the best, you’d have something to focus on. You could work through the day to make it a suitable home for you and the baby instead of wallowing in your grief.

You had to be strong for the little one after all.

You began work right away, throwing your bag on a rotted wooden table and surveying the inside of the shack. At least the walls seemed strong, the wood stood up to the elements. You could see a few patches that would need to be filled with straw for colder weather, but the wood burning stove in the corner gave you a little bit of hope.

Cobwebs littered the corners, a faint layer of dust settling over the entirety of the one room hut. You peered closer to find a straw broom tucked away, practically calling your name.

You set about cleaning the cabin, determined to make it a safe haven for you and your baby. The dust and cobwebs were easy enough to deal with, and you spent hours scraping the grime off the walls and furniture until you could hardly recognize the shack from when you first entered.

As night fell, you lit the wood burning stove, filling the small space with warmth and the scent of fire. You examined the table and decided it was too far gone, so you set to work constructing a new one from scraps of wood and nails, using the old table as a pattern. You worked tirelessly through the night, the pain in your legs and shoulders a constant reminder of the sacrifices you'd made to get this far.

The end product was definitely not a masterpiece, but you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pride in your lopsided creation.

The days turned into weeks, and slowly but surely, the hut began to take shape. You built shelves, repaired the roof, and even managed to create a small loft for you and the little one on the way.

By now, your bump was definitely more noticeable. A healthy swell of your stomach growing now that you were forcing yourself into a healthy diet of at least three meals a day.

With your hut becoming more of a home, you found yourself slipping into a routine. You would wake up early to tend to the garden you'd started behind the place, growing vegetables and herbs that would provide sustenance and comfort.

Afternoons were spent working on the cabin, always striving for perfection despite the humble beginnings. You discovered a sense of peace in the solitary task, even if you mostly didn’t know what you were doing.

As night fell, it was harder to ignore the ache of loneliness and loss that settled in your chest. You would try to ease the pain by humming a song to your growing bump or reciting all the children stories you knew out loud.

To your delight, sometimes you would even feel a flutter of recognition when you sang, a tiny stirring in your womb. It was barely perceptible, very much not a kick yet, but it was still a comforting reminder that you weren’t totally alone.

As the weeks turned into months, the hut became a testament to your strength and resilience. The once-dilapidated structure had blossomed into a cozy home, with warm lighting in the evenings and shelves laden with the vegetables and herbs you'd grown in your garden. A sense of contentment washed over you as you looked around your little sanctuary, realizing that no matter the heartache and loss, you had managed to build a life for yourself despite the circumstances you faced.

The days seemed to stretch into an endless cycle of gardening and remedying, and soon enough, you could feel the baby moving more frequently within you. The sensation was both reassuring and overwhelming, filling you with a mix of love and fear for the little person growing inside of you.

One morning, as you were picking vegetables from your garden, you caught a faint glimpse of movement at the edge of the woods. Your instincts kicked in, and you darted back to the door, retrieving the sword you kept hidden. It was probably long since dulled from not being used, but it was better than having nothing.

No one came close to this part of the woods, even with its close proximity to the Grove. It seemed you had found your own little patch of solitude and you were weary of having your first visitor since you moved in months ago.

You focused in on the movements at the tree line, your shoulders tight. A figure shambled out of the greenery and you choked out a breathless laugh of relief.

“I thought I might find you nearby.” Shadowheart giggled, calling out across the short clearing.

“What on earth are you doing here?” You smiled, relaxing your posture. “You gave me a scare.”

She gave you a bright smile as she approached, taking stock of your now very obvious baby bump.

“I couldn’t help but trying to check on you. The others and I got an invitation from Withers for a reunion.” Shadowheart said with a shrug.

“The others?” You prodded uneasily. You looked toward’s the tree line again, worried they would come crashing through as well.

“Relax.” Shadowheart assured, her smile a little sad. “I told them what you wanted me to. They don’t know a thing about your ‘miraculous survival’.”

“Oh, good.” You sighed, brushing yourself off. “Want to come in? I could scrounge up a breakfast for you.” You tried to keep the hopefulness out of your voice, mildly embarrassed by how excited you felt at the thought of having someone else to talk to.

“Sure,” Shadowheart grinned. “I‘ll ask you what I came to ask you over some food.”

You stepped back, allowing Shadowheart to enter the hut. It was cozy and warm, the wood burning stove crackling in the corner. She looked around in amazement. “You did all this?” she asked, looking at the handmade furniture and shelves laden with herbs and vegetables.

“Yes,” you said, wiping your sweaty palms on your pants. “I’ve been keeping myself busy.”

Shadowheart approached your makeshift table, running her hands along the rough surface. “It’s beautiful.” she murmured, looking at you with awe.

“Thanks.” You smiled shyly,

“So, how are you holding up?” She asked, sitting down on a hand-built stool. “And how’s the baby?”

“I’m doing okay.” You sighed, sitting across from the woman. “The baby is too. Although it’s grown so much that I can’t see my feet anymore.”

“You must be getting close then.”

“Mhm.” You responded, not offering anything else. You weren’t keen on discussing the actual birth. You still hadn’t decided on whether it was responsible to handle it on your own or not. In truth, you were completely out of your depth.

“So what is it you wanted to ask me?” You changed the subject with a grin.

Shadowheart’s face became guarded and she paused for a moment, as if trying to piece the words together.

“I want you to come with me to the reunion.” She whispered.

Your eyebrows furrowed as the words hung in the air.

“You can’t live alone forever.” Shadowheart continued after a moment of silence. “This place is wonderful and I’m glad you’re doing as well as you are, but you can’t force yourself into solitude.”

“Stop.” You cut her off, feeling the telltale dull ache of a migraine coming on. “You already know my answer.”

“Please, at least think about it.” Shadowheart pleaded, reaching across the table for your hand.

“Stop.” You repeated, slipping your hand away from her grasp. “Just stop.”

You felt tears threatening to well in your eyes and you cursed the hormones that made the tears so easy to spill.

“I’m not facing them. Not after losing Halsin.”

“But.” Shadowheart started before you cut her off with your hand.

“My answer is no.” You snapped before your voice softened. “I think you should leave.”

You adverted Shadowheart’s pointed gaze, feeling her eyes bore into you still. With a sigh, she nodded slowly. You looked back to see a mix of disappointment and understanding across her features.

She stood up and walked over to the door, her gaze still locked on you.

“I understand. Please know I’m here for you if you ever change your mind.” She said softly before leaving.

You watched her go through the open doorway, the silhouette of her figure disappearing into the dense forest. The words she’d said hung in the air, making you feel a twinge of guilt. There was probably a softer way to handle that conversation. A compromise you could have made.

For a moment you sat at the table in the middle of the room, staring blankly at the empty doorway. Your mind was whirling, trying to understand your own feelings and determine what was best for your tiny family.

It was a delicate balance, trying to protect your baby without pushing your grief and expectations onto it.

You took a deep breath and stood up, picking up your gardening tools once again.

There was no time for such idle thoughts.

After all. There were carrots to pick.

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As Halsin trudged his way toward’s the Druid’s grove, he couldn’t help but focus on the nagging sense of dread that filled his body. He had spent months looking for you, asking everyone he saw in Baldur’s Gate whether they had seen anyone of your description.

But the answer was the same every time, always a no. The letters to his past companions remained unanswered, his messaging spell falling on deaf ears.

The Druid almost felt as if he was a ghost, a memory of what he once was that no one could really see. He tried to make sense of it, maybe everyone truly thought he had died in that ocean. Maybe they thought his letters sent by some sort of imposter.

Halsin gritted his teeth, trying to will himself to think of other matters. He needed to find you.

All Halsin could see when he thought of you was the look of pure terror on your face as he hurtled over the edge of the Elder Brain. The silent scream ripping from your throat as he lost view of you. He needed to replace that with something.

With anything.

More than anything, Halsin wanted to replace it with the sight of your smile when you finally saw him again.

Halsin felt weak as he continued to lumber along the path, too weak to even shift into his cave bear form, though he’d be much more comfortable traveling that way.

He hadn’t been focusing on his own needs lately, skipping sleep and meals to focus on finding you again. He was out of options now, and all he could hope was to find some sort of hint of your whereabouts from his fellow Druids.

As Halsin reached the grove, his heart raced with anticipation and desperation. He took a deep breath and stepped through the entrance, scanning the faces of his fellow druids with hope-filled eyes.

One by one, he approached each of them, greeting them with a warm smile and asking if they knew of any adventurers who had disappeared recently or anyone who might be looking for a missing companion.

The Druids, surprised to see him well… alive and seemingly pained by Halsin's persistence to change the subject , shook their heads and offered sympathetic words. They hadn’t seen you pass through

Halsin's hope began to dwindle with each negative response, his heart aching with every new face that met his eyes. He felt the dread building inside him once more, suffocating him as he trudged further into the grove.

Suddenly, a familiar sound caught his attention. A laugh. A laugh he knew well but couldn’t seem to place it in his weary state.

He blindly followed the sound, brushing by people as he tried to find the source. Finally, a brown haired man came into view, the figure laughing at whatever the man in front of him was saying.

Halsin stumbled as he finally placed the voice.

“Gale?” Halsin murmured.

Gale spun around, the wizard raising his eyebrows in surprise. He reached out to steady himself by holding onto Wyll’s arm, his face paled as if he was looking into the eyes of a ghost.

“Halsin?” Gale whispered, his eyes wide.

Wyll mouth hung agape as he looked at Halsin, seemingly unable to fathom that the Druid was now standing before him. That he was alive after his fall into the murky depths.

“Halsin! By the gods, it is you!” Gale exclaimed, rushing forward to embrace the Druid, his eyes shining with disbelief and joy. Wyll stood beside him, a mix of shock and relief etched across his features.

Halsin returned the embrace warmly, feeling a rush of emotions flood through him at the sight of his old companions. It was a moment he had dreamt about during his long search, but he never dared to pause long enough to hope for.

“How? How are you here?” Wyll stuttered out, still trying to process the unexpected reunion.

Halsin took a step back, a smile spreading across his face. “It's a long story,” he began, “but seeing you both here is a sign that Silvanus has brought us back together.”

Gale clapped Halsin on the shoulder, his eyes bright with excitement. “You have no idea how much we've missed you, old friend. We thought we had lost you for good after that nasty tumble.”

“I tried to write.” Halsin muttered, a teasing tone of annoyance in his voice.

“Would you have answered a letter from someone you thought dead?” Wyll asked incredulously.

“Perhaps not.” Halsin chuckled, pulling the Duke into a hug.

The reunion lifted some of the weight that had been pressing down on Halsin for so long, if only for a moment. The two men before him began chattering on endlessly about what they had been up to, their adventures and misadventures.

But amidst the talking, a shadow continued to loom in Halsin’s mind. He couldn’t shake the thought of you, the one he had really set out to find in the first place. Despite the happiness of being back with his companions, he really only wanted to see one person. There were so many things he wanted to say. so many promises he wanted to make.

“I’m sorry to interrupt.” Halsin cut off the conversation for a moment, looking between both Gale and Wyll. “But is Tav with you? I’ve been looking for her everywhere, but it seems no one has seen even a glimpse of her.”

Gale and Wyll exchanged uneasy glances. Wyll cast his eyes off to the side, taking in a deep breath as Gale fidgeted uncomfortably.

Halsin couldn’t help but feel his stomach start to turn at the reaction. Unease starting to mix with agitation.

“Well?” He pressed.

“Halsin…” Wyll started, throwing Gale one more glance. “I think this is something we should speak of in private.”

Halsin’s eyebrows furrowed, unease quickly being replaced with dread. Whatever they had to say couldn’t at all be good. Not with the way Gale’s teeth ground tight and Wyll’s hands wrung against each other.

“No. Tell me now.” The Druid demanded.

“I really think-“ Gale started.

“She didn’t make it in the crash.” Wyll said quietly.

Halsin felt the world around him crumble at Wyll's words. The ground beneath his feet seemed to shift, the air around him growing heavy and suffocating.

You were gone.

The realization hit him like a physical blow, knocking the breath from his lungs.

His mind raced, trying to process the devastating words. You, the one he had searched for tirelessly, the one he had longed to see again, were no more? The image of your smile, your unwavering determination, your fierce loyalty flashed before his eyes, each memory twisting the knife of grief deeper into his heart.

Wyll's voice sounded distant as he continued to speak, explaining the details of your fate in the crash. Halsin felt as if he were trapped in a nightmare, unable to wake up from the cruel reality that had caught him.

Gale's hand on his shoulder brought him back to the present moment. The wizard's eyes pained. “You should talk to Shadowheart. She was the one to see it.”

Halsin's mind reeled, his heart heavy with grief and disbelief over your loss. The world around him seemed to blur as he struggled to come to terms with the crushing reality of your absence. Despite the comforting presence of Gale and Wyll, their words felt like a distant echo in the overwhelming silence that engulfed him.

Numbly, Halsin nodded at Gale's suggestion to speak with Shadowheart. He knew he needed answers, needed closure. Nothing else would convince him that he truly lost you. With leaden steps, he made his way through the grove, his thoughts a whirlwind of memories and shattered hopes.

When he finally found Shadowheart, she looked at him with utter shock. The two stood looking at each other in silence for a moment, rendered speechless for very different reasons.

“Halsin? But I thought you… but the crash…” Shadowheart stuttered, trying to make sense of the situation.

“Is she really gone?” Halsin choked out.

Shadowheart’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion before realization dawned on her. Halsin’s eyes stayed glued to the ground below him, not seeing the conflicted emotions playing across Shadowheart’s expression.

“I think you need a healer.” Shadowheart whispered softly.

Halsin shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “No healer can mend this kind of wound,” he replied hoarsely, his voice thick with grief. The thought of you bore down on him like a heavy cloak, suffocating him with memories of shared moments and unspoken words.

Shadowheart’s gaze softened with sympathy as she reached out to touch Halsin’s arm.

“You need a healer.” She repeated. “Rest and heal tonight. I’ll…” She paused, her face twisting in concentration as she was obviously conflicting with her thoughts. “I’ll take you to where we set up a shrine for her. But not until you’ve had some rest.”

Halsin felt a mix of gratitude and reluctance at Shadowheart's offer. The idea of seeking solace in a makeshift gravesite sounded like a temporary respite, a bandage on a wound that cut deep into his soul. But he knew he needed to gather his strength, to find a way to honor your memory even with the weight of your absence heavy in his heart.

As the night descended upon the grove, Halsin found himself alone in the quiet darkness, surrounded by the hushed whispers of nature. Memories of you flooded his mind, each one a bittersweet reminder of what once was and what could have been. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had failed you somehow, that he should have been there to protect you from whatever fate had befallen you.

Tears welled up in Halsin's eyes as he sat beneath the starlit sky, a silent prayer whispered into the night for your spirit to find peace wherever it may roam. That wherever you had passed on to would have a view of the same stars he gazed upon now.

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You awoke with a stretch, rubbing the ache out of your hips softly. It took a little more effort to get out of bed with your bump, your center of gravity becoming difficult to gauge.

With a yawn, you looked out the small open window, taking in the bright peace of the morning. Birds sang throughout the trees, melody winding through the sound of the leaves in the wind.

You let your eyes flutter shut as you ground yourself, inhaling the faintly sweet scent of wildflowers. You started most mornings off this way, determined to start the day with positive and uplifting thoughts.

That and because the serenity of nature made you feel closer to Halsin without the painful ache of longing.

You shuffled off the small bed, stretching once more. You had definitely overslept today, your morning chores would be getting a much later start than usual.

You went about your morning routine with a sense of purpose, softly chiding the swell of your belly to not make the day too hard on it’s mother.

Your mind drifted away as you worked, absentmindedly wondering whether the baby would be a boy or a girl. You’d heard old wives tales about whether the bump sat low or high correlating to the gender, but you really couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter too much in the end, all you could hope for was a safe delivery.

While you were tidying your makeshift kitchen, you heard the soft crunch of footsteps approaching the cabin door. You left it open during the day, letting the cool forest air in. It would be impossible to miss any movement with it open, your ears too trained to sense change.

You sighed, figuring it was Shadowheart trying to convince you to join the land of the living once again. You tried to steel yourself, silently promising to be a little more agreeable this time even if your answer hadn’t changed.

“It’s still a no, Shadowheart, I don’t-“

You turned to the doorway and your words caught in your throat.

You stood absolutely still and silent, sure that your eyes were playing tricks on you.

Could it be possible? There in your doorway…

There stood Halsin.

You clutched at your chest, taking a tentative step back as you tried to make sense of what you were seeing. Halsin’s expression seemed to match your own. Silence, tense and heavy settling between you.

“Halsin?” You whispered, your voice cracking with uncertainty.

He stood there in the doorway, his gaze locked with yours, a mix of similar emotions seeming to swirl in his own eyes. The weight of his presence in the room felt palpable, like a storm brewing on the horizon, ready to unleash its fury.

You felt a surge of conflicting emotions wash over you - disbelief, hope, confusion. How could he be here after all this time? After everything that had happened? Your heart pounded in your chest, the silence stretching between you like an unspoken barrier.

Halsin took a hesitant step forward, as if afraid that any sudden movement would shatter the fragile moment hanging between you. His voice was barely above a whisper as he spoke your name, as if testing the reality of the situation.

You found yourself at a loss for words, your mind reeling with questions and doubts. Was this some trick of fate, a cruel illusion playing with your heart? Or was he truly standing before you, his towering figure all too large for the tiny doorframe you had made your life in?

Halsin’s eyes remained glued to yours as you stood, his lips parted as he seemed to search for the words he wanted to say. His eyes flitted to the ground before he went rigid.

You watched, breath caught in your throat as Halsin’s gaze locked onto your stomach.

Onto the soft swell of his child growing inside of you.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Part 5 ~ End

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

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lady-ashfade · 3 months

Text

Puppet Master

Percabeth x Vampie!Reader

-♡ this took a long while!! Sorry for the wait. I will not be making a part two to this, or at this moment.

-♡ words: 1k

-♡ warnings: short, vampire reader, blood, things vampires do, proof reading on this is ass, (we are batman)

@asexualaromosafezone requested this.

you barely left the shack in the forest. Most campers stayed away from you whenever you came around. from the aura around you, or that you kept a stone cold face always, everything about you kept them away. uou had no cabin, no godly parent so that was the cause of gossip and many questions between the campers.

annabeth heard a story about you when she first arrived at camp, a girl around her age came a year just before her. and she was the cause of spooky night stories used to scared the little ones like her. she was curious to say the least but had many problems to deal with, and no one was allowed near you. she saw you from time to time, you’d find yourself to the big house, stay around the camp alone and stiffen if anyone tried to talk to you. then, you’d leave as soon as the night came and she couldn’t figure where you went.

tt was like you disappeared.

percy on the other hand. as soon as he heard about you it sent a chilling shiver down his spine. luke told him a story, they had made up, that you take the souls of half bloods in the night. so he never wanted to find you and he was glad you stayed away. So naturally he found himself in front of you when you came down into camp.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized and ripped out the arrow from a tree that nearly hit you, “I can’t get ahold of this thing.” he had been there a year and this was his first time seeing you. he noticed something about you that was different from him. your skin didn’t look right and like it was a few shades lighter then it should be, and he couldn’t see your eyes hidden behind your sunglasses.

his body started to nervously sweat as you stare at him without moving and had no facial expression. then he heard the slightest hum from you before you continue to walk back on the path and unfazed by anything.

it’s been a few years and they grew. many quest, getting together, almost many deaths, tears, blood & sweat. you only came to mind a few times when their mind wonders. or when they saw you once a few months, if they could find you at least. it seemed the shadows favored you.

“Find the old shack in camp,” percy was told by the oracle, “you will face the lifeless inhabitant.” it always had to be something dangerous and never, “go get some ice cream.” or anything good.

he brought annabeth…not because he was scared or anything. but they had no idea what it really met, but they brought everything incase. because in every quest it seemed to go the opposite of what they thought.

three knocks was all it took for Percy’s body to run cold and almost tremble. you lived here, or so they say but the words the oracle spoke made no since to him. “face the lifeless inhabitant.” and last time he checked you were alive. Annabeth didn’t waste much time before banging onto the door to call for you of anyone who would listen.

“Go away half bloods.” that voice sounded smooth and it drawled them in. like a angel’s voice with how warm it sounded. “You’re not welcome here.” no one ever heard you speak before so they didn’t know if was you.

“Umm…I’m afraid we can’t. You see we were told to come here from the oracle, and last I checked this is the only shack in camp.” annabeth gave him a side glance before crossing her arms.

there was a minute of silence and the sound of footsteps disappearing away from the door. they were preparing to knock again or force the door open but it creaked open slowly. they slowly stepped inside with their hands ready to reach for their weapons at any moment.

the shack was well lived in and nothing like they expected. books, and a area for a small kitchen, almost victorian decor, but the only light was one candle lit in the corner. “Hello?” the girl called out for the voice they heard earlier.

a sound above them made them snap their attention upwards and nothing was seen, all the light in the room was kept way from that place. percy grabbed ahold of annabeths arm, he didn’t feel right at all. and few seconds later they had a reason to stop. a pair of glowing eyes appeared from the pitch black, and then next a pair of pointy white teeth along with it.

“You should know, bronze doesn’t hurt me.” you glanced toward Percy’s sword.

“What are you?” the boy asked but annabeth already had it figured out when she tugged at his shirt. her eyes stared at a few blood stains on the counter, a pile of bones next to it.

“No one has ever come in here, I guess you should pat yourselves on the back for that too.” your tone now amused. hooking your legs on the plank of wood and swing yourself down and they could see you better now from the light. it was in fact the girl they had seen before.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you. half-bloods taste the worst to be honest. Sad tho, I heard gods taste delicious.” the wicked smirk at your lips that had your sharp teeth poking out mad the feel weird.

“Your eyes are beautiful,” percy lowered his weapon and found himself staring heavily into them.

“And your voice…” annabeth followed along side him. the couple wanted to walk closer but something was stopping them like puppets on a string.

“Oh, right,” you sighed and reached for your sunglasses to put over your eyes and you could see the pair coming back to themselves. “Sorry about that.” the power to control you never really tested out on humans or half humans, except once. ever since then you hated their taste and them to be honest.

“You can listen to my voice and it might have some effect but it wouldn’t do anything without my eyes.” you dropped down and landed perfectly before them.

“The stories are true, vampires are beautiful.” Percy spoke still somehow entranced by you.

“Maybe I should have payed more attention to you, I would have seen it from the books I’ve read.” Annabeth hated that she didn’t see it coming.

Only months will tell if they will be your puppets.

Taglist: @maria699669 @purplerose291 @itzmeme @ravenmedows @repostingmyfavs @obsessedwithshams

#percabeth x reader #annabeth chase x reader #Percy Jackson x reader #book Percy Jackson #book Percy Jackson x reader #older percy jackson #book annabeth chase x reader #vampire #vampie readere

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piratecaptainscaptainpirates · 6 months

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The thing that really annoys me about the conspiracy theories going around (especially the Izzy-centric ones and especially That One Meta, iykyk) is the complete and utter lack not only of genre awareness but any realistic understanding of how OFMD operates.

If you actually watch the show, you should understand two things.

This is a rom-com. The central romance between Ed and Stede and comedy are therefore the two most core parts of the show, with Ed and Stede's romance taking priority over everything else. That's not to say OFMD doesn't have dark themes, it absolutely does; it's to say that comedy is always important to how the show is written, acted, and filmed. If the most obvious explanation for "what is this line/scenario trying to tell us?" is "it's funny," then that's clearly why the scenario is in the show.

This is not a subtle show. That's not to say it's a simple one; one thing I love about OFMD is all the background details and gags you only pick up on a rewatch. It's amazingly layered and emotional responses by characters are often extremely complex. However, when the show is trying to tell you something, it's not subtle and it never tries to hide it. The closest it ever gets is Ed in the gravy basket, and even then it's written so we find out the instant Ed does and we've already had clues to suspect something from how the mutineers are acting. If you're watching OFMD and thinking "hmm I wonder what they're trying to tell me here," you're probably doing something wrong.

That's why I'm so completely baffled by conspiracies such as

"How much was Ed hallucinating/dreaming??" After he gets out of the gravy basket, none of it. Very obviously none of it. Why would you assume they had time to waste this season on trying to confuse us about what's actually happening?

"What if Ed actually killed Buttons?" Okay, putting aside that just not happening on screen and therefore the most reasonable assumption being that he didn't, what would that actually do for the story? Buttons turning into a seagull underscored season themes of change. Ed killing him would be confusing, weird, and extremely out of character.

"What if Ed was the one who killed Felix the cabin boy?" This one absolutely baffles me. That story is transparently there to show us what Hornigold was like as a captain and illustrate why Ed hates him. Ed doing that instead of Hornigold would be wildly out of character and inconsistent with everything Ed does.

And my favorite, the one that made the author of That One Meta instantly lose all credibility for me when I skimmed and saw it:

"What if Ed and Stede's new shack is stinky because they actually have Izzy's body in there and Ed's in denial of his death, etc. etc."

Well. Given my awareness of the show I'm watching. I feel pretty safe in saying that it's stinky in there because, and I can't stress this enough, this is a comedy and sometimes it is funny for things to be stinky.

#ofmd #our flag means death #i am just. so baffled #it's okay to be sad your little guy died but like. what are we doing here

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ohraicodoll · 1 year

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Be Still

(Gif Credit Joel-Miller) Joel Miller x fem!reader The Last of Us (Show/Game) 1.4k Words (3rd POV) Summary: It takes her a while to see what’s happening to him. Joel is having a panic attack. (I’ve never written so fast but had to after watching ep 6!!)

It happened twice before she realized what it was.

At first she worried it was a heart attack. That Joel was having a heart attack in the middle of the forest and she wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. It wasn’t a knife wound or gunshot, nothing she could patch up and stitch together. She hadn’t been a doctor in any life, was more skilled in killing than healing, and they didn't have medicine to give him. His age had never been a thing she cared about or was too concerned with. The world wore them down equally, harshly, and he always seemed to defy the number. Was stronger than anyone his age like through his rage he could defy his body. It wasn’t a heart attack though. She could see the bright whites of his eyes, the way they unfocused and his breath would hitch under the press of his hand against his chest. The shallow breaths coming in and out in frantic off-kilter beats. It wasn’t the cold like he tried to play it off as, wasn’t his age or at least not entirely. Panic attack. Joel Miller was having panic attacks and was trying his best to hide them. They’d started after a few close calls. Ellie getting hit or her almost getting her head shot off. Running from a small horde that had built up inside a locked shop they’d inadvertently let loose. The more close calls they had, the more she could see his anxiety build up. And now it was flooding over, manifesting in a way she was startled to see in the man who always seemed like an impenetrable fortress. He was never afraid. But that was fear in his eyes as he rubbed his hand over and over against his chest, staring at the infected at her feet sporting a new bullet hole. So close. It’d been so close to her. Had dropped out of the second floor window of the cabin they stood outside of. And she hadn’t reacted fast enough but he had. Her eyes took in the way he stared, the hollow blank gaze, the twisting of his lips as they shook. Panic. There was panic and fear there. “Ellie, go clear out that shack and start laying out camp for the night,” she ordered and tried to keep her voice steady, not wanting to give away that anything was up, “We’ll clean this up and patrol the grounds real fast.” The teen sighed audibly and tucked her gun away into her pocket overdramatically, not noticing Joel’s silence as she walked towards the small open shack a dozen yards away. The house the infected had come from was dilapidated, all the windows broken and looking like it was sinking in on itself. Not the safest. As soon as the girl was a good distance away and out of direct view, she walked towards Joel slowly as if approaching a skittish animal. His breath was a wheeze in the silence and he almost jumped when her hands reached out and touched his cheek. “Sit, come on. Nice and slow, just sit on the ground,” she coaxed him, cupping his face and drawing his attention away from the dead body. His eyes were glazed but he sank to his knees, hard and crunching the dried leaves. He was still upright, not allowing himself to fall onto his heels and sit completely, so she followed his lead. Knees to knees, her breath mingled with his and one hand went over the ones clutched to his chest, “Come on, Miller, I need you to take deep breaths in and deep breaths out. In through your nose and out through your mouth.” He was shaking, fingers digging into his shirt like he wanted to try and claw his heart out. His beard was rough against her palm, the silver hairs catching the dying light. Joel looked so lost. He never looked like that, was a constant pillar of confidence against the world. Unshakeable. To see him look that way, scared for the first time in a long while, had something twist inside her. His breaths were still shallow, lips quivering, so she mimicked the routine. Loud breaths in, deep sighs out, “You gotta breathe for me, Joel. In and out, real steady.” Awareness was slowly seeping into his eyes and her fingers slipped between his, clutched in his grasp. He focused on her and started to breathe, swallowing heavily. They were broken, stuttered gasps but he was trying. Her hand stayed on his cheek and she could feel each attempt, see the color and life come back to him. “There you are,” she whispered with a gentle smile, one that was usually reserved for Ellie. Joel never liked things gentle, rejected softness, so she had never offered it. Everything between them was rough, brutal, from the way they fought to how he would smash his mouth against hers during those tiny moments of privacy.

They had hated each other and then…they didn’t. But it was never gentle, wasn’t love or even affection.

She didn’t expect to be the one to keep him from breaking apart. His breathing was getting steadier, more confident. She almost smiled wider, “Okay. Go over the supplies we have in the first aid kit.” A furrow appeared between his brows, the first hint of Joel coming back, “What?” “Just do it, Tex,” it was a command but stayed coaxing, soft even as his fingers gripped her own so hard her bones protested. His eyes flickered all over while he struggled to think and her forehead came to rest against his, “Five things then in the kit.” Their matched breathing warmed her and with a stutter, Joel started listing things. Gauze. Tape. Needle and thread. Scissors. Tweezers. “Technically, that’s six,” she smirked and was pleased that by the end of the list, his breathing was back to normal and he was no longer shaking. “You can’t have a needle without thread. It’s one item,” Joel huffed roughly, not much humor in the comment. Silence took them over and neither moved. She knew his knees had to be hurting against the cold hard ground because hers were starting to, but she didn’t want to be the first one to pull away. She’d stay kneeling there all night if it was what he needed because somewhere along the lines of months they’d all been traveling, Joel had become one of hers. Not only Ellie, but this gruff older man who bit off her head yet gave her the bigger pieces of jerky and would sometimes stop her to kneel and tie her shoes for her. He took care of them both. In the dark he shared his favorite bands growing up and in the light acted like the sight of her made him angry. And now holding him after seeing him deal with a panic attack, she wondered how much of what he felt was hidden under layers and layers. If she’d ever actually get to know Joel and not only what he wanted her to see. Because he wasn’t unstoppable, wasn’t fearless. He was petrified. Slowly, she leaned forward and grazed his nose with her own. The prickle of his mustache and beard against her skin drove tingles across her skin, his breath warm against her lips. He didn’t stop her, didn’t shove her away and walk off even after she’d witnessed a vulnerability. Instead he leaned forward and met her lips with his, the barest of touches. More a press than an actual kiss. It was the gentlest thing she ever felt from the man and it seemed to do more than all the times he tasted her skin and pressed his tongue against her. She pressed harder, kissed him deeper, and tried to pour out everything she knew he would reject out loud. You’re okay. I’m okay. I’ve got you. His hand gripped hers but softened in answer. They wouldn’t talk about it. She knew as much not to push that. But he didn’t try to play it off and instead let her keep that secret of his and take on its burden. It was one of the few things they shared and she would guard it, guard him as fiercely as that little girl.

Even after she broke their kiss, gave him a small smile and helped him get to his feet so they could go check on Ellie, he didn’t let go of her hand.

#raicodoll writes #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x oc #joel miller #joel miller fanfic #tlou #the last of us #tlou spoilers #the last of us spoilers #joel miller x feral reader #series: feral #oc: red #this stuck in my mind hard #def as someone that deals with panic attacks

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lunememes · 1 year

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🌙 * ― 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 ( a collection of various settings for drabbles or prompts, or both! )

001. a tattoo parlour, buzzing with machinery and walls lined with artwork . 002. a shopping mall, crowded and loud . 003. a cabin in the mountains, taking shelter from the snow storm. 004. an abandoned tea party, occupied with broken dolls . 005. the shooting range, empty casings clinking on the floor and sulphur in the air . 006. a music room, filled with melodies of an instrument . 007. an empty auto shop, hood of a car left open and quiet music coming through speakers . 008. a bright arcade, coins falling from machines and claws grabbing at soft toys . 009. the kennels, filled with barking dogs and excited companions . 010. a restaurant, where everyone is eerily quiet and staff are overly friendly . 011. a riding arena, with trained riders atop proud horses . 012. a mini golf course, sails of a windmill obscuring the path ahead . 013. a zoo, filled with an array of unique animals . 014. the docks of a bay, boats lining the decks . 015. a pond with ducks, seeking food . 016. a museum, displaying ancient bones and pottery of a history long ago . 017. a closed down prison, ghosts of violent history echoing in empty cells . 018. a quiet train station, lights overhead flickering and announcement board displaying errors . 019. the vast desert, scorching heat baring down at high noon . 020. the dark woods, filled with strange hanging symbols made of sticks . 021. a deep hole in the ground, covered by leaves and sticks . 022. a wishing fountain, base lined with copper coins of past wishes . 023. an abandoned picnic in an empty field, flask still warm with coffee . 024. a barn filled with hay and tools, old wood creaking in the wind . 025. a graveyard in the dead of night, wind howling through the trees . 026. a crumbling bridge above a raging river . 027. the refreshing waters of a lake, away from prying eyes . 028. the crossroads, in the middle of nowhere . 029. a cosy bonfire at summer camp, marshmallows roasting on the fire . 030. the top of a radio tower, with the perfect view of the surrounding area . 031. a lone phone box on a street corner . 032. a large elaborate temple dedicated to a deity, offerings still intact . 033. a drive-in movie theatre, cars empty and projector casting only light onto the screen . 034. a strange trail of breadcrumbs on a woodland path . 035. a haunted mansion, ancient paintings watching every footstep . 036. a decrepit mine located out in the hills, believed by locals to have a powerful curse cast upon it . 037. the edge of a cliff, overlooking the rough waves and distant sounds of approaching danger . 038. a road trip across country, music blaring through speakers . 039. a flower shop, filled with bouquets and a sweet aroma . 040. an airport in the early hours of the morning, deprived of sleep . 041. a train on its way to its destination, a sleeping passenger resting on a shoulder . 042. an abandoned shack filled with strange books of the occult and something mysterious bubbling on the stove . 043. an empty throne room, moonlight glimmering through tall windows . 044. an underwater tunnel in an aquarium, fish swimming overhead and sharks looming in the distance . 045. deep within unmarked cave located in the side of a mountain, lit only by a flare . 046. the dusty streets of a western town, watched by wary residents . 047. the back of a vast library, surrounded by books, when a black book falls from the highest shelf . 048. a room of an asylum, an abandoned camcorder left in the middle of the room . 049. the shores of an unknown beach, washed up from the ocean . 050. the deck of an unsteady ship, waves crashing against the haul and rain lashing down from dark clouds .

#setting prompts #rp meme #drabble prompts #rp memes #rp prompts #setting meme

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writella · 9 months

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hi, sweetie! Hope you’re doing well. I just had the cutest thought that I wanted to share. And maybe if you want to add on to it as a drabble or something please feel free:) if not, then please just enjoy todays shower thoughts lol.

I’m thinking about a friends with benefits! reader and Daryl who find themselves travelling by canoe for whatever reason. And how they might get into some petty argument or even play fight that ends with them flipping the boat and the two of them just stand in the water, soaking wet and staring blankly at eachother with disappointment. Bangs sticking to your both your foreheads as the canoe slowly floats down the river along with all your dignity.

Take care! xoxo

Rocking the Boat

Synopsis: Daryl has been back home for weeks; the first attack against the Sanctuary is complete; Alexandria, the Kingdom, and the Hilltop are on their way to freedom; but nothing is the same as it was, especially not with you and Daryl. Maybe a house boat side quest will break the ice, or really, make some waves.

Details: This is set during the beginning of season 8, it includes violence, smut, a fwb relationship but feelings are involved, mutual pining, a little bit of switch Daryl and reader, and some sweetness because I think it’s just my thing at this point. ��

A/N + Response: Hello, lovely miss T ♡ what a fun idea!! I love the imagery you set with the canoe tipping over, especially the bangs so cute— it was one of my favorite parts to write here! This is probably a bit unrealistic and much longer than I intended, so I think I might consider this a full one-shot as well as a concept, and… it’s also a bit sad? Just a little until we get to the good stuff, I promise ;) Anyway I hope you like it; let me know what you think!!

Daryl sat on Rick’s porch, his back against the poles, reloading his guns as you sped up the steps, “I think we should go back to the boats. Now.” Your voice was hurried, you had run all the way from your house, but he didn't even look up at you.

“Why would we do somethin’ stupid like that?” His voice was low, and annoyed. You didn’t expect to be greeted kindly, but at least he sounded like anything other than emotionless to you since the first time you saw him again; since the time he escaped the Sanctuary.

“There’s no one there. I saw it before I got back home. There were people with guns sitting outside the first time we saw it, but now there aren't.”

“A couple of guns ain’t gonna help us.”

“There had to have been a reason they were guarding it before.” Your words were urgent and your eyes pleaded for him to look up. “Any amount of guns could make the difference, Daryl. You know that.” You stare at him, waiting for nothing as he doesn’t respond. “Did you and Rick even find anything before you got back?” You cross your arms, “Cause it doesn’t look like it. And I think I just did.”

You had gotten separated from the group after the first attack against the Sanctuary: you ran without thinking, just trying to get away from the army of walkers stampeding the place. Straying off the usual path to Alexandria, you accidentally reencountered a place you and Daryl only saw once before. It was a time before Negan, before the Saviors. But now, remembering their jackets, and their weapons, and how their bikes looked parked at the shore, you realized those were three Savior cabin boats— fairly sized, a bit rusty, they had a shack like feel, but it was big enough to stand and sleep in. Maybe something of use could be in there, and at least it was something to do while you waited for the final attack.

Similar to Rosita and Michonne, you also got hurt by the scavengers— day zero of the war, when Sasha died— but the girls left you here, they didn’t even tell you they were going, you didn’t even see them leave. But you needed to get out too; you needed to help. “I’m going with or without you.” Your anger started bubbling at his indifference, “And I saw you talking to Tara, I know you’re planning something, so if you want to go off with her and complete your idiot side plan-”

“You’re the one with the dumbass plan.”

“- then that’s fine!” You glare at him, his eyes still so evasive, it infuriates you. “My objective is to find more weapons, before the final attack.” You lied, you both knew your objective was to rest before the final attack, “So I’m gonna go do that.”

You begin to walk briskly. You knew he was going to try to stop you. You knew he was going to come with you when he realized, yet again, he couldn’t stop you, or… you hoped he couldn’t… Sometimes you forget how much stronger he is than you. You had a smart mouth and you knew how to get a reaction out of him, or at least you did in the past, but he could pinned you down with one hand, making you completely immobile— it’s happened before. The thought makes you walk faster, heading for the nearest car. You were trying to make a point although you weren’t sure what it was. You were just tired of sitting around, tired of his treatment— mistreatment, actually. You knew he had reason to act curtly, what he went through was unspeakable, but you were still there for him, waiting, but he never came to you. Not even late at night. Not even to simply sleep.

Just as you’re about to reach the car you feel his hand wrap around your arm, you almost let it yank you. Your breath is a heavy mix of fear and excitement as he does so. Maybe you finally got something out of him. Maybe you still have it. Maybe you still have him. “We don’t got time for this,” he hissed. Then his jaw clenched, it almost looked like he was chewing on something, “but you’re forgetting the boat.”

“It’s a canoe.” You were pushing it with the retort, he was coming.

He grunts as he lets go of your arm, it slapping down to your side. You wait for him by the car as he retrieves the canoe and paddles from one of the house garages. You guys had found it a long while ago, never knowing when it would be of use. That time was now.

The ride toward the waterfront was irritable and depressing to say the least. You wanted to be around Daryl, you wanted to stop him from going off plan with Tara, but most importantly, you just wanted to talk to him; finally and for once. You all were on the biggest missions of your life, in the biggest war of your life… who knows where your fates would lie after this, but he has yet to say anything to you that didn’t involve fighting the Saviors, and even with that, he didn’t say much. He wanted to win. He was ready to do it fast. Whatever it took. That was all.

He kept shifting in his seat, short, low grunts coming out of the side of his mouth— he didn’t want to do this right now, but he knew you were just as stubborn as him, especially when it came to him. As dumb as he felt this was, it wasn’t time for another person he cares about to get hurt.

“Stop fuming,” you muttered.

He snapped back, barking your name, “We’re in a war! We could be doin’ better things right now and got me here for what?”

“Maybe so you don’t kill people we need alive right now?” You were talking about Dwight, you did more than just see Daryl talking to Tara.

His following grunt truly said typical. “You always got your nose where it don’t belong.”

You ignore him, “We should follow Rick’s plan.”

He shakes his head, ignoring you this time. He’s tired of talking about this. He’s going to go on the boat, see if there’s weapons, get Tara, and use whatever you two find to complete his own plan at the Sanctuary. This needs to be done.

“At least it’s a little over 5 miles off the out-post the Kingdom took out,” you reason, “that must be why no one is there anymore.”

Still no response. Typical, it’s your turn to think it. You let go of talking to him for now. The rest of the drive was silent as well as when you get to your destination, starting to put the canoe on water.

You look at the three small, now unguarded, boats. Only one bike was by the land and there was blood splattered on the middle house, the biggest one. Maybe the Kingdom took out the guy that was there, but there were no boats or canoes around, no way for someone to get close enough inside.

You two get in, starting to row. “There better be somethin’ good in there,” Daryl huffed. You hoped so too. Uncertainty started filling in with the reality of your awful plan. There really could be nothing in there and you really could have spent your day doing something that mattered to the cause. If these boats held anything important, why wasn’t a Savior there already? But even worse, the realization that you were acting out of desperation just because Daryl had been acting so cold… felt even more terrible.

You knew Daryl was scarred, far more than before and you were trying to be patient. You were going to let him come to you. You knew he needed time, and he was at the Kingdom for a little bit anyway, hiding out from Negan. You couldn’t even talk to him if you wanted to because of that. But now you had been planning that first attack for weeks, you were sleeping in the same place together again, but not in the same room, not touching. And again, you understood why, but then again… you didn’t. It was so hard to gain his trust, for him to open up to you, you thought that was something you gained for keeps; but now he wasn’t even allowing you to have a friendship anymore, let alone this in-between relationship you used to have. It made you upset how much power you realized you let him have over you. You missed him so much, and now you weren’t even sure if he missed you back, or if he had reason to. Maybe it was just a fling after all.

War feels long, but it’s only a short time in truth. Nonetheless, a short time that can define who you are thereafter. This could be him, and maybe it always was. And this could be how you two will always be. Forever.

You decide to break the silence again as you row, your thoughts becoming insufferable: “That’s actually not the right technique,” you stutter, “if- if you’re curious.” You start to row based on what you taught yourself, the canoe going just a bit faster now, “I read it in a book from Deana’s old library.”

“So you read somethin’ in a book and now you think you know everything?” His eyes were annoyed. “Hmph.”

Your voice raises, “Well just because you’re so experienced in the wilderness or whatever doesn’t mean you know everything either.”

“I’m doin’ it fine.” He wasn’t. “You don’t even know how to swim.” You didn’t. “So maybe just be glad you ain’t dying today.”

You repeat yourself, “Still- doesn’t- mean- you know how to do everything… You expect me to think Merle took you canoeing? Of all things?” You cock your head, “Pretty sure he was out finding the next score.” You knew it was a low blow to bring up the dead brother, but you were upset. No talking and now insults? You could be cold too, even colder, even if you didn’t like it.

“Shut up.”

“You shut up!”

Then you screamed. A walker with gills, swimming in the water approached your boat behind Daryl. Your voice made him turn around to see it. You take your paddle to try to stab it in the head, but the walker’s hands are along the canoe rim, coming closer to you, it makes you accidently hit Daryl with your swing. “Oh- Sorry!”

“Fuck!” He yelled.

“I’m sorry!” A realization comes, “Is this the guy?”

“If it was he’s been dead for a while.” Daryl shouts, taking out his gun and you take out your knife. He’s trying to shoot the walker in the head, it’s closer to your side now. But you’re thrashing and water is flying while you try to jab them in the head with your knife. The walker has one of your arms and you’re trying to pry it away with the hand that has the knife. Neither of you have a clear shot at getting the thing, all three of you rocking the canoe far too much.

“Stay still!” He yells at you.

“Im trying!” You shout with the same force, the same annoyance, “He’s not making it easy, Daryl!”

Daryl has a chance to shoot the walker in the stomach, and he takes it, but it does nothing. The walker’s hands on you do not quit. The two of you just keep yelling at each other, riling the walker up. You can hear the biting sounds they’re making near your arm.

He shoots again, but you and the walker are still moving too much and Daryl’s loosing balance. The walker is tipping the canoe with their hands, water splashing inside. The next bullet goes into the wood, making a hole.

Their starving mouth continues to try to bite at you. You pull using all your strength to get their mouth away, trying to use your other hand to slice into their head. You two have never seen a walker like this: they can swim and they’re so strong.

Water now fills the boat from the hole as Daryl moves forward on the canoe, pushing your head, his hand quite literally covering your whole face to shove you out of the way, getting a clear shot at the walker and firing at their head. He clicks twice: Boom. Boom. Guts and water fly everywhere.

The splashing of the water and the firing of his gun overwhelms all your senses. The weight of Daryl is on your side now, neither of you have balance; both your weights pull the canoe over the edge as it flips over entirely with you under it.

You scream, but your voice is muffled. You thrash around, trying to use what little experience you have. You come above water for a few seconds, wailing, and Daryl grabs you.

“Hey- Hey- Hey!” his words snap, rough like barks until he gets you to look at him, gripping your face so it’s forward. “It’s okay,” he’s breathing almost as heavy as you are. His voice becomes even now, “It’s okay.” You realize he has you in his arms— it really was okay.

Feeling he might make a comment about you almost drowning, you force yourself to speak through water filled lungs, “Don’t. Say it.”

So he didn’t. He just holds you tight, you even feel his thumbs squeezing into you at the waist now, and through half lidded eyes, you see his arms tense, working hard to make sure you never fall, but it’s at a half arm's length, his elbows bent. You blink rapidly, your wet eyelashes still flapping shut until you’re able to open them better. You can see Daryl more clearly now.

You try to swipe some of the hair out of your face. The baby hairs at the crown of your forehead stayed slick in place while some parts of your hair started to lightly form your wave or curl pattern, but in all, you were absolutely drenched.

Your hands now hold onto his forearms just as tight as his below. It was one of those rare moments where you remember just how blue his eyes are. Their narrow shape and the way his hair lays always hides them away. But the sun was behind you, casting its light directly on him and his hair was now slick to his head as well: only some of it resting on his forehead.

If someone were to describe Daryl’s looks, they would probably say something typical like dark and rugged. They don’t see what you see. God, you forgot how uniquely handsome he was.

His hair changed colors in the light, it wasn’t as dark brown anymore, flecks of it were a more golden brown in the sun. And you loved the mole that was just above his lip and facial hair. Almost no one else in the group had something like that. And now, there was the way his button down stuck onto his skin. The color was dark enough that it wasn’t see-through, but you saw every indent, every line of his bicep and tricep as you looked at his arms, trying to avoid his face, trying to avoid his chest or anywhere lower.

On the other hand, Daryl was trying even harder to avoid looking at your soaked body, failing even worse. His eyes couldn’t help but linger on how your chest huffed as you tried to catch your breath. Your collarbones are now exposed as your shirt slides down just a bit further, the light color almost see through because of the water, and your bra didn’t help much either. It was one of those without the padding, it was the only one that fit— your supplies, food and wearable, clean clothing, were running dangerously low at home. The thin material of both top garments showed how your nipples perked up now. And the way he had to grasp tightly on the smalls of your waist, feeling your stomach inhale and exhale as you calmed yourself down didn’t help either. It was like he felt your hold body moving… similar to a way he used to feel it.

It all makes him realize now how he hasn’t gotten the courage to look at you directly in the longest. God, he forgot how pretty you are. How lovely it was to hold you. Even if it was to escape death.

Your eyes are so big as you hold on tightly to his arms, you’re still shaken up. Trying to paddle your feet like you’ve seen on tv and in videos in the past. It’s adorable.

He didn’t dare look any longer, but part of him wondered if you were looking at him the same way. And you were. Specifically, the way you could see every line and ripple of his abdomen with his button up now glued to his body. As you let your eyes trail just a bit more form his arms, you noticed how magnified his chest looked, how his nipples were just as pert as yours.

It all made you feel something warm down below and it made something inside him twitch, but this wasn’t the time. He had been feeling so many things since he returned that he didn’t even know which ones to act upon first, so he reverted back to saying nothing, or at least nothing that had to do with how he really felt, how he really felt about you that is.

In the end, “You better hope I can make one of those shits run or we’re fucked,” was all he decided to say.

He moves your hands onto the back sides of his waist and he starts to swim. Your legs are off to the sides and he tells you to kick as he is and hold on tight as he swims you both to the middle boathouse, the one with the blood.

You hold onto the ledge as you finally arrive, allowing Daryl to go in first, checking for walkers at each boat. He does the side ones first. No one is there. Finally, he goes to the middle house: out of all of them, it’s the biggest wreck. The place is filled with pictures, Polaroids, scattered all over the place. It’s of the Saviors. And there’s all kinds of guns scattered on the floor, but he can’t help but to stare at the faces. He knew some of those faces.

You call his name, but he doesn’t respond. “What was in the other two?” You yell for him again, but nothing. You decide to go in the middle one as well, your eyes are amazed by the mess of guns on the floor. There were even ones still hooked up to the wall. There were knives and daggers too. Even glass cases with various bullets, you wondered what they did. Was this the emergency weapons stash? Had you reached it before a Savior could? “Why aren’t you picking this stuff up?” You look up at him impatiently, shaking your head and huffing, you’ll do it yourself you guess.

Daryl continues to look around, picking up a frame. The only framed picture in the boat. It was cracked on the ground: A Polaroid of Negan.

He takes the picture out of the broken glass to look at it closer. As if this wasn’t already the attitude of much of the Saviors, whoever lived and protected this place must have worshiped him. Negan stood proudly in it, his bat on the side of his shoulders, a big rifle strapped around his back on the other. His hair and beard was all black, and that notorious, all encompassing grin plastered his face from ear to ear. Daryl turned the picture over: the words, ‘Negan — The First Savior. My Savior,’ was written on the back.

It fired him up. It made him think of the dark, of that cell, of the food that probably wasn’t even food, when he was kicked and jumped by those Saviors in the parking lot, and that damn song— the saccharine melody would live on in his brain like a siren. There would never be silence inside him again. In fact, there never was. It was only louder now. So loud and so angry he feels it in his throat, traveling to his tongue, beneath his eyes, as he can no longer keep it in anymore; but he tries, and tries, and tries, quietly holding everything in while you keep collecting weapons, putting them in bags you find. The picture crumples in his closing hand, his fist turning red as he grips tightly, ruining the shining paper.

He slides down against the boat wall, sitting on the ground biting his tongue, stopping the feelings until you're done; until you two can leave and he can do what he needs to do. It’ll be without you, without Rick, without anyone. This needs to be done. He’ll do it.

“Daryl,” you call out, not facing him, collecting the bags. “I think I counted 32, but it could be 40… I think there’s smaller ones by the wheel and I didn’t even get the swords yet. If there's about the same number on the other two, there could be maybe over 100 new weapons,” you gasp with disbelief. “Were the other two like this?“

You we’re relieved, you knew it was a dumb plan, but you came out of it with a win; it was worth it. “Daryl, come on-” you turn to him now, “oh.”

You almost couldn’t see his eyes with how much more narrow he made them, they were practically closed and his face was down. You wondered if this was the moment you would first see him cry: his lip quivered, his face was as red as his fists, and he wouldn’t look in your direction, his head was basically to the wall as you started to walk to him.

Your movements are slow as you kneel down to the corner in which he sat. You place fingers along his jaw until your whole hand wraps around the area. Your strokes are gentle, feeling the bristles of his beard on your palm. He had been so angry since he returned, hell bent on war and death, but you remembered… he must have also been so sad, so depressed too. Poor boy, you thought. Poor boy, you forgot; in some ways, he still was just a boy.

You turn his cheek to face you, but his eyes don’t dare meet yours as a few tears start rolling out. Your own emerge too. It’s heartbreaking to see him like this.

You put your forehead to his, your nose rubbing against his own, “I’m so sorry,” you whisper.

You come even closer. Your lips lightly touch his, you’re tentative at first, not knowing if it was right, but then you feel his brush against yours just as light. You decide to move in, your lips parting his own as you kiss him.

Your tongue goes into his mouth, your hand raising his chin, you’re so delicate. He holds your shoulder, you lean into his bent body and your other hand slides against his chest. You’re both still wet and cold, but his heart beats warmly.

His head leans up against the wall as you push yourself further onto his lips. You hold his shoulders and he allows you to slide him down.

You look up at him, your hands on his shirt. This is not how you expected today to go. “Is this okay?” You ask softly. His nod is just as soft, you almost don’t see it, but his hands are lightly on top of your own as you unbutton his shirt, he lets you. It’s okay.

He’s unbuckling his belt now, pushing his pants down and your top goes over your head. He starts to unbutton your own jeans. It’s quiet except for your breaths, and the clinking of belts, and the undoing of zippers.

You pull him out a little more from the corner so you can straddle him. You start grinding your hips down into him and he pushes into your clit with his finger, circling it. The bit of warmness you felt below before is now almost pooling out instantly from just the littlest touches. Your back arches, you haven’t felt him in so, so long. You gasp and it accidentally turns into a moan. You’re so needy for it, but you remember: you want to help him.

Your hands move down to his stomach, your lips kiss his neck as your hands travels up to his chest and then back down, you start kissing him everywhere there as you do so, breathing him in, it makes him fidgety, little gruff sounds irruption from his throat, he’s trying to keep it in. Then you got even lower: you kiss down his cock until you’re at the tip. You lick at the pre-cum there. You put just a little bit of him inside your mouth, sucking, stroking the rest of it. His exhale comes out as a shaky gasp, he whimpers slightly.

Finally, you move back up and line yourself up with him, sinking down slowly as you look him in the eyes. You can’t help it, you start to ride him immediately thereafter. The stretch feels so good and so big and full as if you’ve never felt him before. Your moan is light and airy, you missed him. And he groans, “-ugh, fuck” and moans, “uh- mm- argh,” right after you do so. He missed you. You know that now, it makes you smile.

You lean up against him slightly. His mouth parted and you speak into it, your breast brushing against him as you rolled onto him, your stomached touching a bit. “I’ve got you,” you pant into his mouth, he’s panting too, “always.”

He holds onto your hips as you go faster, you’re holding onto his shoulders. “Does it feel good?” You kiss him right after you ask, his tongue going to the top of your mouth, sliding in wet and deliciously, it’s everything you’ve waited for. He hums into you as a response. You feel his dick twitch as your pussy grips on him tighter.

You feel like you both could be close until he starts kissing you more fiercely. His tongue only slipping in slightly as he pecks your lips, he bites down slightly, then kissing you deeply again. Then he turns you over. You’re under him now. His hands go right by your ears, flat on the ground and he thrusts into you. Hard. It almost hurts, you can’t lie. He’s grunting, short and quick, but his rasp, and his hair flying as he quickens the pace, and the fact that pain is slowly turning into pleasure… you’re fine with it. If this is what he needs, you’re fine with it.

His next grunt is almost a yell, it’s like a battle cry. He’s angry and you know it. You hold onto his flex arms tenderly, caressing him, silently telling him you’re there, but you allow him to continue.

His movements are faster now. More irate. His body comes closer to yours, but his movements do not stop their force. His thrusts feels like poundings, you feel like the floor is moving, maybe the boat is rocking, the bags jump with it.

He looks at your screwed shut eyes as one of his hands comes to touch your chest. Trailing your breast, then to the bottom of your stomach, staying there, pressing down, feeling himself inside of you has he shoves himself up and in, he’s deep, so deep. “Mmm,” You’re whining now, “-uuh.” It makes his eyes lighten, he’s humming, low and gruff and continuous, stuttering into you, eyes open waiting to see you come so then he can. It’s right there for him, but he wants to see you, he needs it.

Your moan mixes into a whine, “Daryl please,” you beg, “Daryl please- it’s- it’s too much, it hurts,” it makes him go even faster, and he can’t help himself as he comes in you first, sighing as he does so, but it’s exactly what you need to come undone yourself.

You grab the back of his neck, holding it close to you as you squeeze your arms around him and he does the same to your waist.

You both try to calm your breaths, “Never leave me again,” you say into his ear, breathing roughly. “Please.”

“Never.” He looks at you right in the eye when repeats it, “Never.” He wipes the tears from your face as you both nod, affirming a new promise to each other. “We’ll win. Together.”

After laying for a few moments, just looking at each other, he goes to the bathroom to find a washcloth, warming it with water, helping you clean up. He takes your hand so you can start doing it yourself and he kisses your forehead before he starts to get dressed. “I’ll be back.”

Soon enough, you hear the engine in the front start to rev up. He got it to work.

“You can drive a boat?”

“Gonna learn.” He turns to you, pulling you in front resting your hands on the wheel while he stands behind, his arms over your own. “We both are.”

#daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x reader smut #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x afab!reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon #the walking dead smut #the walking dead fanfiction #twd smut #twd fanfiction #wonders with writella #wonderings with daryl #💌 ask answered 💌

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pascalispretty · 5 months

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Love Shack

Joel Miller x GN!Reader

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Joel gets a boner, forced proximity, only one bed, friends to lovers, kissing, implied smut

Summary: Stuck in a tiny cabin in a snowstorm, you and Joel have to share the only bed. And you have to do your best to hide the crush you've been nursing on him. (ao3).

Notes: Another secret santa! This one is for @sp00kymulderr - Merry Christmas lovely!! My thanks as always to @misscharlielulu for listening to me agonise about every tiny detail. Title is silly, but I couldn't think of anything else.

You had been a little intimidated when Joel first showed up in Jackson, his not-daughter trailing behind him. He was tall and broad, and often stomped around town with a face like thunder. Gradually though, he had settled in to life in Jackson. After a winter storm sent a tree branch crashing through your roof, he was put in charge of fixing the hole. A contractor in a former life, according to Maria, he had done his job well.

Being in such proximity to him made you notice new things about him. The softness with which he would speak about Ellie when you offered to give them the game of Jenga that had been on the shelves when you’d moved in. The obvious care he seemed to take in his work. The polite nod and sincere thank you when you made him tea after a long day toiling up on your roof.

The more you came to know Joel, the less intimidating he seemed. It was a sentiment that was shared by many of the people in Jackson. People who went on patrol with him spoke warmly of his talents – his skill at building traps for animals, his talent for picking off Clickers with Tommy’s borrowed sniper rifle.

On the occasions you were assigned to patrol with him, you generally came back to Jackson having learned something new. A different type of snare for rabbits, or a better way to tie a deer he’d shot to one of the horses.

The best thing, though, was the music.

There was a piano in the back of the mess hall that had been there ever since you arrived in Jackson. Gracie, the older lady who’d taken you under her wing when you arrived, had taught you how to play; before the outbreak, she’d given lessons. And, at Ellie’s insistence, Joel had played with you once or twice in the mess hall, accompanying you on the guitar while you played. You wish you had a guitar right now.

It would give Joel something else to focus on other than your current predicament.

The snow hadn’t been that heavy when you left Jackson to go on patrol with Joel. But the snow started coming down so thickly that you could barely see Joel and his horse in front of you, and the wind screamed through the trees like some new and horrifying variant of Infected.

Before long, you and Joel had been left with a choice; to seek shelter where you could, or to try and go back to Jackson. Joel had managed to guide you to a cabin used as an outpost by other patrols. There was a ski resort not far from the town, and little log cabins still dotted the landscape. Half of them were in ruins; one had burned out leaving only the shell of a corner behind.

You, Joel and the horses had crowded into the one that seemed the least derelict. It was a tiny place. The horses were left in the remains of the open space that contained a kitchen and a moth-eaten sofa. It left the small bedroom for you and Joel to hole up in. Sitting awkwardly on the sagging bed, you can hear Joel breaking up some of the remaining furniture in the other room to build a fire.

“This place is barely a cabin,” Joel groused, building the fire up with broken table and chair legs. “It’s a glorified shack.” You carry on crumpling up the pages of an old newspaper you’d found under the bed, gnawing on your lower lip.

“I’m sorry, Joel,” you start. He had wanted to try for the lodge further up the hill, but you had been reluctant to push the horses any harder. A deep sigh escapes from him.

“Nothin’ to be sorry for. You were right, we shouldn’t have pushed the horses. ‘s just that this place is so small.” He’s not wrong about that. The bed is shoved right up against the wall, and with the horses in the other room, the only other space is a tiny bathroom you don’t even want to think about right now.

The fire flickers slowly to life, and you and Joel hang up your outer layers to dry. You still wish for music, for something to break the awkward silence between you. The storm shows no sign of letting down; the little cabin holds in the warmth of the fire, but it’s not enough to keep the chill out entirely.

“Why don’t you get some sleep?” Joel says. “I’ll keep watch in the other room.”

“Who could find us all the way out here, in this storm?” You point out. It’s not like you want to exacerbate the awkwardness in the air, but sharing a bed might at least help keep you both warm.

So the two of you begrudgingly settle into the bed. You lie between Joel and the wall, trying to ignore the draft creeping in from some miniscule crack near your feet. It’s so quiet; the sound of the wind outside is muffled, so only the crackle of the fire and the occasional shift of the horses in the next room disturbs the quiet. When you whisper a ‘good night’ to Joel, it sounds almost deafening in the hush that’s settled over the cabin.

You’re not sure how long you doze for. Only that, when you wake, you realise Joel has moved closer to you in the night. Instead of lying stiffly several inches away, he’s curled around you from behind. And, pressing insistently against the small of your back, Joel is unmistakably hard.

You nearly choke on your own tongue when you realise it, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. He must be having quite the dream. Trapped between his body and the wall, you’re not sure what to do with yourself. You’ve always been painfully aware of how attractive Joel is, but you’ve never considered that he might reciprocate that feeling; you settled for the friendship he slowly offered, the bond over music.

Time is meaningless out here, without even the sun to indicate whether it’s noon or night. You’ve no notion of how long you lie there for, contemplating an escape route. You want to avoid the possibility of an awkward conversation, of Joel getting the slightest hint of your crush on him. Even thinking of it as a crush sounds hopelessly juvenile.

It’s just your luck that a log collapses in the fire, the wood clattering as it rolls out of the fireplace and onto the floor. Joel is up immediately, picking up the unburned end and shoving it back into the fire before it can catch the timber floor. You sit frozen on the bed, unable to speak first, praying that Joel somehow hasn’t even noticed.

“…shit.” Joel still has his back to you, and something sinks in your gut at how disappointed he sounds. “Shit, I’m so- I’m sorry.”

“It happens, don’t worry. It’s just biology.” You shrug, trying to sound nonchalant. There’s the snapping of more wood as Joel vents his frustration on the remaining chair legs, breaking them and throwing them into the fire.

“Feels like a shitty thing to do.”

“Well, you could have bought me a drink first,” you tease. To your surprise he – well, he doesn’t laugh. He more just huffs out of his nose. But he sounds amused by it, at least.

“Now you sound like Ellie. She’s always tryin’ to get me to be nicer to you. Says I owe you a drink every time you let me sing when we play.” Rather than stay awkwardly standing, he opts to kneel by the bed instead. Up close, you can see just how lovely and dark his eyes are, and see the smattering of grey hair in his beard.

“You don’t owe me anything for that. I like it when you sing.” He’d sung the House of the Rising Sun for you by way of an audition, and you’d been immediately enamoured with his rough but lovely voice. It reminds you of the country singers that Eugene listens to on tape.

“Well, I like it when you play.” Joel’s eyes sweep over you, and he gives another deep sigh. “I am sorry. ‘s not fair to you.”

“Joel, it’s really okay. I didn’t mind.” Are you crazy, or did he look at you with more interest when you said that?

“How can you not mind some old man groping you in your sleep?” He asks, shaking his head. “I understand if you don’t wanna go on patrol with me any more when we get back, I can talk to Tommy-”

“Joel,” you say firmly, cutting him off. Your cheeks feel like they’re on fire, but you push on. “I really didn’t mind. Really. And I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to get back up here with me.” You might have just ruined whatever friendship you had with him, but you can’t bear him beating himself up over it any longer. He raises an eyebrow at you, eyes skimming over your body.

“You wouldn’t mind?” He asks eventually, leaning in closer.

“No. I- I want you to.” You worry you sound pathetic, but Joel doesn’t seem to think so. His eyes watching your face closely for any sign of discomfort, he climbs back onto the bed and lies down beside you. Your faces are only inches apart. You have nothing else to lose, certainly no dignity left.

You lean in and kiss him.

His lips are soft and full against yours, and Joel barely hesitates before he’s kissing you back. You have no idea if your friendship will be salvageable after this, but right now, with Joel’s lips against yours, you’re not sure you care. One of his large hands rests on your waist, pulling your body closer to him as he deepens the kiss.

Later, when the fire has died down, and the storm is starting to abate, you’ll wonder how exactly it happened. How your clothes came to be strewn about the tiny bedroom, how Joel’s come ended up drying on your thigh.

But right now, you’re content to melt into Joel and enjoy whatever he has to give you.

Taglist:

@avengersfan25 @misscharlielulu @apenny4thots @its-nebuleuse @irishavengersassemble

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #pedrostories #pedrostoriesgift23

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hometoursandotherstuff · 1 month

Text

Opportunity to own a piece of Rock Royalty for only $452K. "Kate's Lazy Desert" was crafted by B-52's iconic singer-songwriter Kate Pierson and her artist wife Monica Nation. It can be a trailer park, camp ground, or motel. Completely decorated vintage Airstreams plus a homestead cabin for the owner, caretaker, or guests. Check out this gem in Landers, CA.

"Roam if you want to," all trailers feature colorful retro design.

The all have a picnic table, barbecue grill, and a frame for an awning.

I like this one.

This one's set up a little differently. And, it has Tinkerbell on the wall.

This one's cute. Wonder why the wallpaper in the kitchen is so bubbled.

They all have pretty big baths, for a trailer.

This one has a nice bath, too.

Looks like a small, above-ground pool.

The private cabin for the caretaker, etc. The Love Shack!

It's a 10 acre lot, and the adjoining 5 acre lot has a cement slab w/all utilities connected so you could build a house or something.

The trailer park setup.

And, it's close to local attractions like Joshua Tree, Pappy And Harriet's, The Integratron, Giant Rock Boulder, and the critically-acclaimed restaurant La Copine.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/58380-Botkin-Rd-Landers-CA-92285/299170786_zpid/?

#air stream trailers #unique properties #trailer park #celebrity property #houses #house tours #home tour

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gen0c1de · 8 months

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Based on something I actually did with a friend and should've been charged for but the dude who owns the property was chill-

Y/N and Stu: Walking into Stu's house.

Billy: "Y/N, why do you have an arrow?"

Y/N: "I got it from the abandoned shack down the road! Stu and I accidentally ripped the window off the building and so we climbed in to explore it!"

Stu: "The floor was caved in, dude. Y/N almost fell in it!"

Billy: "You mean the old hunting club cabin? The one that has the driveway go past it and the guy who owns the property AND the shack lives?"

Stu: "...someone owns that shack...?"

Billy: "Yes!"

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lacyscabinet · 8 months

Note

Nat comes back from hunting, and reader isn't there, and everyone didn't see her, and then Nat finds her in the small shack where shauna usually was with Jackie's body

Reader was huddled up with the sharpest knife, and it was covered in blood

(Basically reader was gonna commit)

I NEED ANGSTY 😓😓

SORRY IF THIS TRIGGERS :(

A/N: thank you for this request <3, as someone who has struggled and still struggles with sh, I feel like I need to spread a little message through this note, you are enough, I know that everybody says that, and I know that you might think it's pathetic, but it's true, it doesn't matter if you failed a test, broke up with your s/o, messed something up , did anything you regret doing or even not doing, or if you just don't feel like sticking around anymore, only one thing doesn't have a remedy. I struggle to believe it myself sometimes but in the end there is always something worth living for. Think about it. Emotional pep talk over, sorry for rambling, hope you'll like this fic<3

MASTERLIST

WARNINGS : knives, attempted suicide, suicidal ideation, depression, sh, blood

You're losing me

Another day hunting, another day without finding any game, everyone was starving back at the cabin, and the frustration Nat felt was sickening.

And the team worshipping Lottie and going as far as saying that Lottie was providing more food than her made Natalie see red.

Travis wasn't helping much these days, grieving his little brother, long story short, everyone was on edge, you more than anyone else.

Nobody really knew how much you were struggling, you tried to open up with Natalie once and she didn't really catch up on the way you felt, she just thought you were really sad that day and comforted you.

But it was deeper than that, at first when you all got stranded, you were full of life, hopeful to get rescued and go on with your life, but as the days, the weeks and the moths went by, the bright glimmer in your eyes dimmed gradually, only leaving a hint of emotions when you cried, you felt drained, tired and sick, not the type of tired that a good night of sleep could fix and not the type of sick that painkillers could tame.

And then, with all the things you've seen, all the things you did, it was all in order to survive of course, but you still did it, you did it.

As time went by you started to think about the way you would be way more useful if you died, not only you wouldn't have to eat food, leaving more for your teammates, but you also would become food, and a part of you hoped that someday you'll become useful to the others.

You thought and you even dreamed about it, not feeling pain anymore, not being completely useless anymore, and one day, you took matters into your own hands.

That day, a shivering Natalie, fresh out of another failed hunt, looked for you in the cabin, simply to spend some time with you since she was gone in the snow the whole day, she searched and searched but you were nowhere to be seen.

"Mari? Have you seen Y/N" Natalie asked the girl who was busy cooking something definitely not nutritious enough to make the team feel full, Mari shrugged "I saw her this morning, she was going out, I thought she was looking for you"

Nat frowned, thanking Mari and going into the living room, a bunch of the girls sat there around the fire, and of course, you weren't there

"God..." Shauna spoke up, looking around the room "Has anyone seen my knife? I think I lost it"

The others shrugged as Natalie reached for the door, searching for you outside.

She was used to the ironically burning cold, but still, it wasn't pleasant.

Walking around the outside of the cabin she couldn't help but curse you and hope you were okay at the same time.

After a faint noise she froze in her spot, paying attention to her surroundings, and then her eyes widened when she heard a loud sob.

Looking around, she realized that there was only one place the cries could come from, the tiny wooden shelter next to the cabin.

As she walked closer to it the noises just got louder and louder, and she was sure that it was you, she could recognize your voice everywhere after all, but "why is she crying?" Nat kept thinking.

When she entered the shed, she couldn't believe her eyes, yes, you were there, but Shauna's knife was there as well, covered in blood.

At first her mind wanted to believe that you found game on your way to join Nat in her daily hunt, and you were just cutting up pieces of deer meat, but when she noticed your sleeves rolled up and deep vertical slits on your wrists all the hope in her mind was gone.

She was losing you.

And you yourself, couldn't feel a thing, after the painful cuts, you found a certain peace in the warm feeling of blood pouring out of your veins, a bold contrast compared to the freezing weather.

Nat cursed, she was shocked, but she knew that she couldn't allow herself to be in shock, she had to help, she had to do something .

She was losing you.

"Hey! Hey! Can you hear me? Please baby, can you hear me?" She cried out kneeling next to your body

You weren't completely unconscious, wobbling between the two worlds, and in a moment of consciousness, the only thing you could say was "Nat..."

She instantly replied, eagerly trying to get some more words from you "What baby?"

"You can... when it's time, you can...you can eat me, you have my permission...please do it Nat, you deserve to live"

Natalie couldn't believe the words coming out of your mouth "No, no, don't say that, you are gonna be okay, you're gonna be fine"

And in that moment your vision went black.

She lost you.

For three hours. The worst three hours of her life.

As soon as you passed out, she picked you up and brought you back inside.

After seeing your conditions everyone was alarmed, Tai quickly stitched you up as best as she could, and then Nat proceeded to clean you up from all the blood you lost.

Coach Ben let the girls lay you down in his small room, and after that they all collectively decided to leave you alone with Nat for a while.

She held your hand the whole time, clinging to the feeling that you weren't gone, you couldn't be gone, your heart was still beating, a faint beating, but it was working.

When you opened your eyes, she was there, squeezing your hand with her own, eyes closed and a tear stained face

Just like in the movies you thought, but you weren't in a safe hospital at the end of a movie, you were at the start of your little personal hell.

And even when she held you tightly after she noticed your wide eyes, you couldn't help but wish you were somewhere else.

After all, maybe she really lost you that day.

A/N: I think I just poured my soul into this fic. Hope you enjoyed, stay safe <3

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