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#sometimes i would feel bad enough to build a big enough room to put a buffet table in

mrsjellymunson · 3 months

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KNOCK AT THE CABIN | Prologue

Written for @bettyfrommars, @allthingsjoeq and @somnambulic-thing’s Stranger Prompts, Prompt 1. He shows up at your house covered in mud in the rain, but the problem is, he died two months ago.

Series Summary: After the events of the previous months, everyone is shocked by the unexpected return of an old friend. But is it really him?

Chapter Summary: On a stormy night, an unexpected visitor arrives.

WC: 1.14k

Series C/W: 🔞 18+, MDNI, NSFW. I mean it, if you’re under 18, git! Post-S4, Upside Down exists, dark/supernatural themes. Eventual Eddie Munson x fem!reader smut. Swearing. Not much to caution about in this part, unless you don’t like rain, or bad decor.

A/N: This series contains a lot of things I haven’t written for before, so I’d love to know what you think! Please comment and reblog, it means the world to writers, and reblogs mean work gets seen. This series has a taglist so if you’d like to be on either it, or my general list, lemme know in a comment, ask or message 🙏💗

Skip to Part One

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You’re holed up in an old farmhouse on the outskirts of Hawkins. It’s not exactly remote, but the nearest building is little more than a speck on the horizon so you feel pretty isolated. Owens organised it, explaining it would be a good idea for the older members of the party to lay low for a little while. Nancy had put forward an excellent argument for remaining with her family, but you, Robin and Steve had reluctantly packed up some of your belongings and relocated here. For how long, you don’t know.

It’s no palace. The wood-built building is certainly past its best, the yellowing 50s kitchen barely functional and the faded decor not to anyone's taste. But it’s (mostly) warm, (usually) dry, and most importantly, it feels safe. Which is something you all need after the events of the past few months.

You’re all acutely aware of the obvious gap in your merry band. Owens had insisted that the three of you didn’t attend the funeral, but he’d involved you as much as he could, ferrying messages between you and the kids and Wayne, discussing what he would’ve wanted to wear (you all agreed on his spare Hellfire shirt and leather jacket, knowing he’d never want to be separated from either, plus a brand new, government-funded pair of black 501s), and sneaking mementoes to you with Wayne’s approval.

Mike and Will have taken charge of his D&D paraphernalia, Dustin got his wallet chain (and wears it with literally everything, even his Weird Al shirts and colourful shorts), and Lucas opted for a small pocket knife. You, Steve and Robin each have one of his rings. Steve and Robin keep theirs in their rooms, but you wear the silver skull every day. It’s too big for your fingers, and is even a little loose on your thumb, but that’s where you keep it, spinning it to ease your anxiety, and smoothing the pads of your fingers over its bumpy surface to remind you of the friend you’ve lost. Rueing the fact that you always wanted him to be more than that, but never had the chance to find out whether he felt the same.

The kids visit periodically, even staying over sometimes, nobody expecting anyone to be watching the comings and goings of a bunch of nerdy teens. Nancy drops them off, sometimes staying, sometimes not. On this occasion she’d dropped and run, explaining that she was going to visit Max in the hospital tomorrow, spending some quality girly time with her. Lucas, who usually spent every spare moment by her bedside, was going to spend the weekend here, after Max, still seriously ill but now well enough to communicate, insisted that he needed to spend at least a bit of time with his old friends.

Tonight, you’d had a movie marathon, Keith developing an uncharacteristically generous side since everything kicked off and periodically dropping off and collecting piles of VHS tapes. Not quite generous enough to bring you any brand new releases, but even things you’ve seen before are better than the ‘sweet FA’ you’d have available given the nonexistent TV reception around here.

Popcorn litters the floor and the saggy furniture, as do gangly boys and a long-haired girl. Jane has commandeered the sole armchair, sitting in it cross-legged, and you, Steve and Robin are squashed onto the sofa with an equally squashed Dustin, the latter insisting that there was definitely room for one more.

Mike and Will are on the floor between the sofa and the old, battered coffee table. Mike’s hunched over a bowl of chips that he’s shovelling in, and Will is leaning against your legs, you stroking his hair in a way you know he finds comforting. Lucas is lounging on the floor at the side of the table, his long body stretched out and his head supported on threadbare throw pillows.

The gentle patter of drizzly rain against the windows and roof, and the crackle of the open fire, one of your only sources of heating, gives the evening a cosy feel, though you hope the rain doesn’t get any heavier as you don’t entirely trust the roof over the rear extension to cope with much more meteorological abuse.

You’ve just finished Raiders Of the Lost Ark and Steve has got up to swap it out for The Stuff, when there’s a strong gust of wind and the rainfall picks up significantly. Great, you think, the weather gods definitely weren’t listening to your silent pleas.

None of you notice Jane stiffening in her seat and shifting uncomfortably.

Under the lashing of the wind and rain there’s a sudden noise at the front door. Not urgent, not loud, just two soft thuds. If the kids had been roughhousing or the film had been on you may even have missed them.

You all look at each other, instantly and equally on edge, and all hoping that somebody, anybody, will provide a simple explanation for this.

Steve’s the first to speak. Jaw slack and brow furrowed, he asks the room, “Uhh, did anyone order takeout?”

There’s a cacophony of ‘no’s’ and shaken heads, before another soft thud is heard, just one this time.

Steve steels himself, not for the first time realising that it’s his responsibility to investigate the possibly terrifying, and potentially life-threatening, situation. He stands from his position by the video player and moves towards the door, fingertips skimming the top of the bat that’s always to the side of it, before closing his hand softly around the handle.

He pulls back the sliding bolts before twisting the lock and pulling the door open just a crack, leaving the chain on. The noise of the weather increases in volume, but other than that there’s no indication of what’s on the other side.

Steve has his back to you so you don’t see his eyes go wide, but you do hear a soft, “Wh- What the fuck?”

Robin being Robin, and perpetually thinking about her stomach, she says,

“What is it, doofus? Pleeease tell me it’s Jonathon and Argyle dropping by from Cali with some delicious Surfer Boy pizza??”

“Uh, no, it’s, uh- You know what? Maybe you should just come and see for yourself. Wait, scratch that, just the adults.”

Knowing this will unwittingly pique the interest of the kids more than if he’d just allowed everyone to come look, you and Robin glance at each other before quickly rising and moving to the door.

Steve closes it and takes off the chain, opening it wide as the three of you arrive, the kids following close behind and trying to look between you.

There, hunched, shivering, soaking wet and covered in mud, is your friend. The one who’d died saving the town. The one they’d buried only a few days ago, after he’d been lying on a slab in a lab somewhere for weeks.

Eddie.

Continue to Part One

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Thanks so much for reading! I really hope you enjoyed this. Lemme know if you’d like to be tagged in future parts.

Extra tags: @jamdoughnutmagician @joejoequinnquinn

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i-love-scarameowche · 4 months

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Yandere Gojo x depressed reader drabble !!

TW: Slight NSFW, reader is insecure, reader has bad hygiene, dubcon(?), gojo is a little freak, chubby reader, harsh words in 2nd person, reader has body hair, fem!reader, reader is suicidal, gojo has a spit kink.

Other Gojo x depressed reader: <33

Satoru's been so busy lately. He's constantly out of the house, sometimes he doesn't even have time to come back. You can't blame him, it's not his fault. But sometimes you can't help but feel like it's your fault. He's always taking care of you. You feel so so bad for it. You do. You don't do anything. You just lay there and rot.

When was the last time you even brushed your teeth? God you smell don't you? Maybe that's why he hasn't come back. You want to get up and show and brush your teeth. It's so easy. Yet you can't bring yourself to do it. Do you even have depression? What if you're just lazy? You probably are. You can't be depressed if you're still happy sometimes, you still eat normally though you wish you would eat less, you only seem depressed when you have something to do.

You're disgusted with yourself. You just want to die. You hear the front door open, and you pause. You feel like crying, but you can't manage to get it out. You should've taken a shower before. You should've.

You should've.

You're just laying in Satoru's bed. It's basically all you even do at this point. Kissing you would be vomit worthy—just smelling you—wouldn't it? You wonder why Satoru is still with you. Pity probably. You're gross. That's that. No amount of makeup or self confidence would fix it. You're disgusting.

"Babyyy!" Satoru calls out with a grin, walking into the room and noticing your dishevelled state. He quickly strides over—his long legs bringing him to you in record time—and sits on the edge of the bed beside you. He does notice your body oder. But it's you. Satoru's pants feel tight as he swallows the saliva building up in his mouth. "What's wrong?" Satoru asks, leaning down towards your ear as his hands move to both cup your cheek and stroke your head, bringing you to look at him.

"Please..I'm just so tired right now..." You quietly murmur. Satoru sighs and moves to lay close to you, but you scoot away from him. "C'mon doll, I can't fix nothin' unless ya tell me what's wrong y'know." Satoru hums, his thumb moving to rub your cheek. You're so cute.

"It's nothing." You harshly whisper, moving away from Satoru more, drawing a frown on his face. "It's not nothing. Obviously not. So just tell me what's wrong." Satoru huffs, starting to get a little frustrated. He just wants to love you. Why can't you understand? But you just want him to be happy. Why can't he understand?

"Just go away." You mumble, frowning as Satoru tugs the blanket off of you, your legs revealed since you're only wearing shorts. You curl up on your side, regretting putting those shorts on. You hate the fact your legs are hairy. You hate everything about yourself. It was just too hot. Satoru groans playfully, as if you weren't thinking about killing yourself right now, and moves to lay you on your back. His big hands move to rest on your knees, and he spreads your legs to slot himself between them, his eyes flickering to the small amount of scars on your thighs.

He's glad there's only a few, despite him knowing how much pain it causes you, because it means you never hurt yourself so badly. But to you, it's just another thing you failed at, just another thing you couldn't do right, another thing that proves you aren't really depressed, because you couldn't even cut deep enough that it would scar. You can bring yourself to say anything as Satoru leans down, his face against yours. Your mouth is practically sewed shut with metal. Your breath is rancid, isn't it? You don't want Satoru to have to be near you when you're like this. It's humiliating.

"C'mon princess..open up." Satoru hums, his hand moving to cup your cheek again, his thumb on your lower lip, starting to push into your shut mouth. Your teeth are as gritted as they can be. Satoru puts his thumb under the little space of your front teeth and forces your mouth open. You move to pull away from him but you're already laying on the bed, your head on a pillow, so there's not much space. "It's okay, just suck on my fingers for me okay?" Satoru asks with a smile.

You don't know why Satoru wants you to do this. He's going to regret it once he realizes the effect of you not brushing your teeth. You don't want to, but you comply. Well, kind of.

You begrudgingly let your jaw relax as Satoru slips his index and middle finger between your teeth, moving them around to coat them in your saliva. You feel weirded out but you try to ignore it. Satoru grins as he takes his fingers out of your mouth, opening his a little. You pause, realize what he's about to do. That's disgusting. That's going to be horrible. You quickly sit up, moving to grasp at Satoru's wrists.

But his fingers have already sunk between his soft lips, you hear the quiet sound of him sucking on his two fingers, licking off all of your saliva that he can. It grosses you out. The thought of it.

Satoru slides his fingers out with a very light pop, strings of his own saliva connecting them to his lips. "See? S'fine sweetheart. M'gonna love ya no matter what. I like you like this. Waitin' for me n'never leaving the house without me." Satoru hums as he hooks his slender fingers under the waistband of your pants and underwear, slipping them down.

"Satoru that..that was gross..." You manage to get out, feeling queasy. The taste of your saliva must be horrible. Why did he do that? "Mm, nah." Satoru shrugs, moving around a little to fully pull off your lower clothes. Your pubic hair is so bushy. He likes it. But what he doesn't like is how you move to hide from him.

"C'mon sweets, s'just me." Satoru sighs, moving your hands away from your vagina as he leans down again, kissing your lips. "Stop being all embarrassed 'round me."

Notes: I'm the inspiration for this ngl !!!! Stopped writing it cus I felt kinda nauseous(not from the fic) but yk

#yandere jjk x reader #yandere jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere gojo x reader #yandere gojo #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #yandere satoru gojo #jujutsu kaisen x reader #🌹 ʳᵒˢᵉˢ ⁱⁿᶠⁱⁿⁱᵗᵉ ᶠʳᵉᵉˢⁱᵃˢ #🌷 ʳᵒˢᵉˢ ˡᵒᵛᵉˡʸ ˢᵗᵃʳᵍᵃᶻᵉʳ ˡⁱˡⁱᵉˢ #🪻 ʳᵒˢᵉˢ ᵇᵘⁿᶜʰ ᵒᶠ ˡᵃᵛᵉⁿᵈᵉʳ

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heartpascal · 1 year

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the world is brighter

▹— joel miller x platonic!f!reader

▹— summary: joel is trying to be someone he’s not.

▹— a/n: so this is meant to be the reluctant daughter fic…. and it didn’t turn out exactly the way i planned :( not sure that i like it at all honestly, but i wanna put smth out for y’all and this is 13K words that i cba to rewrite so… love you.

▹— warnings: references to suicide attempt, familial loss, previous good relationship with (assumed) biological dad, blood, so much blood, murder (you kill someone), fighting, i think you could class this as dissociation/blackouts but i’m not sure (pls tell me if it’s something different), fighting, canon-typical violence, angst — please tell me if there’s more, ive been trying to keep up to date but i’ve written this fic over so many days. be mindful, this one might be kinda heavy.

▹— tags: @auggiesolovey @just-kaylaa @evyiione @lemonlaides @fariylixie0915 @erensloveinterest @dazedshoon @faceache111 @randomhoex @canpillowscry @sleepygraves @pedropascalsrealgf @star-wars-lover @coolchick333 @soobsdior @ilybbg @rvjaa @oliest19xx @pedropepsi @sunflowersdrop @truthfuleeyours (if you’ve been tagged it’s because you requested to be on my general taglist! if you want your tag removed, drop me a message! <3)

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howl’s song associations!

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Living in Boston QZ hadn’t been your idea. No — you never would have chosen the so-called safety of the walls, which were only filled with bad people and worse authority, but you had been left with no other choice.

Pronounced an orphan on your way to the QZ, you didn’t know what else to do. With nobody to guide you or advise you, you had gone ahead with the original plan, walking the final twenty-something miles alone, in some sort of absent state.

The journey was a blur, and so was the arrival, you only really remember seeing the green flash of the cordyceps tester, reminding you of all you had lost. Every time you closed your eyes after that, the shade of green haunted you.

They had put you up in a FEDRA school, and so you began your training to become an officer. You hated it, hated the FEDRA organisation as a whole, and hated being in Boston when the person who had wanted to be there didn’t make it.

You tried not to make a habit of sneaking out after the first time, but you couldn’t help yourself. Most days, you were so exhausted from your nightly adventures through the QZ that you got everybody into doing more drills. Not many people were a big fan of you, but that was the way you preferred it.

You liked being alone, really. Enjoyed the silence that echoed through your room, the absence of other people letting you simmer in your own feelings. Your father had always reprimanded you for wallowing in your own self-pity, but he was no longer around to do such a thing. So, you wallowed.

Between climbing out of your bedroom window, jumping across rooftops to reach a particular apartment building with an actual view outside of the wall, you spent your time disconnected from the hellscape you lived in. Everything felt so far away, so out of touch, and the only moments you blinked back to reality, you were dripping in blood. Down your face, your hands, so much of it that you didn’t know where it started or ended. Or if it was your own.

Everything coming back into focus at once was dizzying enough, and sometimes that feeling was so closely related to blood loss that you had been sure somebody must’ve stabbed you, must’ve finally managed to get past your survival instincts, must’ve brought you to your end, at last.

But then you’d wake up, blood dried, no sign of the looming figure of death in front of you. There was only one occasion where the blood must’ve been mostly your own, and that was a broken nose. You pretended not to be disappointed, each and every time. Despite everything you had done to survive, everything you still do, there was a darker part of you that hated yourself for it. That blamed you.

It was one of those times yet again, where one moment you swore you were paying attention in your FEDRA classroom, and the next you blinked, eyes opening to the sight of bloodied hands in front of you.

It was everywhere, you would swear on it, underneath your fingernails, between each digit on your hand, even dripping down your wrist. It was warm and clung to your skin, even when you wiped your hands against the jeans on your legs. You blinked again, finally moving your eyes away from your sticky hands, and you gulped down a lump in your throat at the sight in front of you.

You recognised the man — a snarky guard at FEDRA, one who always had it out for you. You could see a slither of the face that always glared over at you underneath all of the red blood.

It didn’t take much realising to know that you wouldn’t get away with this thing, that this would be something that killed you. If they found out, if, then you were dead.

You needed to know, had to be sure, if this was going to be the final thing, your final action, if you had actually killed a FEDRA guard. But despite that, despite knowing that you didn’t have another option than to look if his chest was rising and falling, you couldn’t draw your eyes in the direction. Even when you tried, your chin fell to your chest, eyes back on the hands that were cradling one another in your lap, feeling far too heavy for your arms.

With the sharp way your breath was coming into your chest, you were starting to realise that your hearing hadn’t returned with your sight, and you jumped when the realisation brought it back, a rush of sound hitting you all at once.

The distant sound of gunfire, the whirring of a generator nearby, the sound of your own hyperventilating breaths, it all echoed too loudly, far too much going on for you to comprehend it all. So much so that you missed the footsteps heading your way, missed the sound of crunching stone as somebody else stepped foot on the rooftop.

A hand against your shoulder had you rearing around, fists drawn back and pushing forward until they hit the person, hard, and the hand was immediately withdrawn. You continued forward, eyes blinking closed in a flinch as the hand grabbed your wrists, holding tight until you stopped trying to pull them away.

“Jesus Christ— Tess, get on out here!” The voice belonging to the person holding on to you yelled out, about as loudly as he dared, and you bared your teeth with clenched fists at the woman who pulled herself up from the fire escape on the apartment building.

“Jesus,” She echoed, looking between you and the FEDRA agent with raised eyebrows, a slight grimace, marring her features. She looked over at the man who was grasping your wrists in a bruising grip with a questioning gaze. “What the fuck went on here?”

“Get your fucking hands off of me!” You spat out, tugging your arms, trying to get out of the man’s grip as you grit your teeth, your mind still reeling with everything that was going on.

He stared sternly at you, “You gonna calm down?” When you responded with a more than angered nod, he nodded, releasing your wrists and stepping away, leaning to look at the FEDRA guard still lay at your side. He kicked the guy in the side, and there was no hint of a reaction. “Dead.” He told the woman, Tess, with an odd look on his face.

“Well, shit, kid.” Tess sighed, hands on her hips as she looked at the situation before her. She shook her head with a tut, and approached to have a look at the guard herself. “What happened?”

You just continued baring your teeth, metaphorical hackles raised high, and Tess just responded with a blank look on her face, a dismissive purse to her lips as she moved her gaze over to the man.

He tilted his head, looking between you and the body, “Could’ve been anyone.” He suggested to Tess, rocking his head from side to side in something like deliberation. You stared hard at the two of them, confusion still buzzing through your head.

“Could’ve been.” She agreed.

They shared a look, communicating between only their eyes, and they had no reaction to the way your hands clenched, your head snapping between them. You didn’t know what had happened, couldn’t understand what was going on, and you had no idea who these people were. It really didn't provide any reassurance, and your eyebrows lowered over your eyes, a glare prominent on your features as Tess huffed.

“C’mon, kid.” The man said to you, offering a hand to help you up from the ground. When you stared at him, that glare on your face, he raised his eyebrows in annoyance. “It’s either you come with us, or you’re found here with him and hung. Your choice.” He told you, hand still offered out, and you grit your teeth as you took it, letting him pull you to your feet, and steady you when you stumbled, everything feeling a bit too real.

You focused on where you were going, rather than who was leading you there, as the two of them took you down the fire escape, hurrying you into an open window on the second flight down from the top. You didn’t take any notice of the bloody handprint Tess wiped away after you had managed to get yourself through the gap, instead looking for the doors.

“You can calm down, kid, we ain’t gonna hurt you.” Tess said, sounding snarky as she moved past you to their kitchen, where she helped herself to a glass of illegal alcohol. You raised your eyebrows, knowing that wasn’t a FEDRA-supplied bottle.

You huffed, watching the man look around the area before he shut the window, flicking the lock into place. “Can never be too careful.” You murmured in response.

“Ain’t that the truth.” Tess said, somewhat amused. “I mean if anybody here’s showed some aggression, that’d be you. Gonna tell us what went on up there?” She asked between careful sips from her glass, measured, or maybe, savouring sips.

At her question, your eyebrows furrowed once more, and you pulled your bloodied hands close to your chest, jaw clenched.

“No?” She asked, leaning forward with an expectant expression, and she opened her mouth to ask some more questions, say something else, but the man cut her off.

“Tess,” He warned, eyebrows raised, “Take it easy.” He glanced back to you, to the hands you held close to yourself, and frowned. With a nod of his head, clearly expecting you to follow, he headed down the hallway. You looked at Tess, hesitantly following the man as she nodded with an exasperated scoff.

He opened a door, revealing their bathroom, which had certainly seen better days. You wouldn’t exactly cheer for the bathrooms at FEDRA school, but jesus — at least it was better than what the general public got. “Head on in, clean yourself up. Don’t want anybody seein’ that on you.”

With some reluctance, you kept a hostile expression plastered on your face as you stepped into the bathroom, flicking on the tap in the sink and running your hands under it. Up until that point, you had remained ignorant to the way the blood clung to your skin, sticky and not quite cold, but now there was the opportunity to be rid of it, you became desperate.

The water helped, slightly, but not fast enough for your liking, resorting to the scraping of your dull nails against the drying blood, up until flakes of red started to melt away, colouring the water as it drained.

Their mirror was broken, and you couldn’t have been more glad. You were sure that if it had been there when you glanced up, if you had to look yourself in the face, you would be sick. You didn’t want to face the fact that all of this was real. You had just killed a FEDRA guard.

“Alright, that’s enough of that, now.” The man said, reaching into the sink and pulling your hands away from the stream of water when you ignored him. He shut the tap off, staring at you with that same strange expression, only glancing away to grab the towel that hung over the door. You took it, drying your hands hastily before you shoved it back towards him.

You were shoving past him before he could get another word out, barely even able to grab the towel as you passed it back. He blinked, a frown forming a deeper crease than usual between his brows.

“Listen, I—I really need to get back. Curfew is going to be over soon, I think.” You fumbled around the words, hurrying down the hallway you came from and spinning around in the room to try and reorient yourself. You finally saw the door you believed to be the exit, and headed towards it.

“Well, hold up,” Tess said, frowning and reaching out to you, stepping back with a slight scoff when you moved away from the reaching arms. “Daylight’s gonna break any second, you’d be better off waiting for curfew to be over with. And,” She added, tilting her head at you with a stern look, “You still haven’t told us what went on. We’re covering your ass, right now. If anything goes to shit it’ll be us keeping you safe. You realise that?”

You did realise something — and that was the kind of people you were dealing with. You’d heard from them, and not from the FEDRA teachers, but from other trainees, other students.

When the world went up in flames, FEDRA had been the first to seize onto power, and they held on to the pretence that they had never let go. But the world was still burning, and the people had begun rioting, and there was another opportunity for a power-grab. It was people like this who had taken that opportunity, who had made something of themselves in a world on fire.

You knew then that the way she had likely gotten that bottle of alcohol was through her own network. She was a manipulator, clearly, a blackmailer. She used the resources she had, and she definitely made the most of them. She wasn’t bluffing.

“So, what? I don’t tell you and you sell me out?” You ask, despite knowing the answer. Part of you wants to hear her say it, though, wants to hear the admission of being a bad person. Then again, maybe she was the good guy, you thought, after remembering the blurry image of that guard, lay still on the roof above where you stood.

Tess tilted her head, “Pretty much.”

“Well, fine. Be my guest. As much as I would love to comply with your blackmail, I couldn’t tell you. Don’t have a fucking clue what happened up there. I’d say try asking him, but…” You snarked in response, another bare of your teeth, another raising of your hackles. Tess was looking more frustrated by the moment, if the slight twitch of the skin of her brows said anything. She held herself together pretty well. If it weren’t for the stark difference between times like now and the times of blacked out memories, blurred images, you likely wouldn’t have even noticed. But it was like everything was so clear when you actually looked, and you noticed details that most people wouldn’t.

“Joel,” Tess sighed out, and even the cadence of her voice revealed the annoyance that was growing within her. “Help me out, here?” She asked, because despite every front that the man put up, he was still better with kids than she was. There was something about him, an authority, she wondered, that just made people fess up.

You looked over to the man, to Joel, to see his eyes looking at you with more recognition by the second, a pull to the frown on his lips that suggested he knew something that you didn’t. You weren’t a fan of the look.

He gritted his teeth at the whole situation, his chest aching with familiarity. Joel knew, probably better than anyone, that look in your eye. “I believe her,” Joel answered Tess, hesitantly, rolling his eyes when the two of you immediately looked at him with dumbfounded expressions. “Look, Tess is right. You’re better off sticking ‘round here ‘til curfew drops.” He told you then, his voice gruff as he leaned to look out of the window, seeing the light outside growing brighter each passing minute.

You huffed, but crossed your arms in defeat, shoulders slouching where you stood.

“But remember, you owe us.” Tess said scathingly, a crease running along her forehead before she turned away, heading down the hallway. She pretended that she didn’t hear the way you scoffed at her words.

You and Joel stood opposite each other, the room tense. He cleared his throat, uncrossing his arms so the two of you didn’t mirror each other quite so accurately, and he turned to grab his own glass of booze. “So, uh, you go to school? FEDRA?” He asked, talking over the sound of liquid being poured into his glass.

“Yeah.” You responded lamely, tapping a foot against the floorboards of their apartment, avoiding looking at the man.

“You know the guy, then?” He questioned, eyebrows raised as he turned back around to look at you.

The look you gave him was scathing, but you gritted your teeth and responded anyway, seeing no other choice. “I guess. Gives me— gave me a hard time for dumb things. Don’t know what happened last night, before you ask.” You said, correcting your words to the past tense, and your chest felt hauntingly empty, despite what you had done.

Joel shrugged at you, “Wasn’t goin’ to.” He responded, mouth set in a thin line before he took a long sip from his drink. “Get some rest, kid. Got an hour or so, yet.” He told you, seeing your exhaustion before you had even felt it, apparently.

You blinked at him, surprised. The idea was tempting, you could admit, but it didn’t feel like a good idea to go to sleep around two strangers. At any moment, they could have a change of heart. It was best to stay on guard, to be ready to run at a moment’s notice. That was the way you always played these type of things, and it worked out.

He drained his glass, shrugging at you when you didn’t move to head towards the sofa he had vaguely gestured at, and said, “Suit yourself.” Before he walked down the hallway, following Tess.

You waited there for more than a few minutes, so still, making sure you didn’t make a sound, waiting to hear when one of them would come back to keep an eye on you. You had never felt more confused when they didn’t.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Ever since then, the world seemed to blur around you even more. And despite getting out in the hold at school after getting caught trying to sneak back in, it didn’t deter you, and they didn’t seem to suspect you of anything. You had heard the whispers about the dead FEDRA guard, though.

You tried not to listen.

Instead, you spent even more of your time sneaking out, but allowed that haze to fall over you with even less of a fight each time you went out. It was easier, that way, to let the world fall away and leave you with memories smudged in blood, that you certainly didn’t remember acquiring. Nothing in them was clear, and the cycle of waking up covered in blood didn’t stop.

More often than not, though, it was beginning to be your own blood. Apparently, your hazed self had become terrible at picking the battles you fought, and you’d blinked back to reality more than once when sparring at school, the jolt of pain when somebody caught an injury bringing you back faster than anything else had.

When you blinked back into reality this time, however, it was with warm blood dripping down your face, a hand gripping onto your head and keeping it upright when it began to fall to one side. You didn’t expect to see a familiar face, that was for sure.

“Joel?” You asked, incredulous, your voice slurred as you spoke through blood in your teeth.

“Well, she’s alive.” He said, not to you, barely even acknowledging your questioning tone as he glanced behind him to somebody you couldn’t see. Tess, presumably. “What have you gotten yourself into this time, kid?” He grumbled, voice gruff as he looked over your head for injuries, a grimace on his face at the amount of blood dripping down your temple.

His hand left your head a moment later, and you just about caught the weight of it before your chin could hit your chest, leaning back and settling the crown of your head against what felt like a brick wall.

A hand against your shoulder caught your attention when your eyes had been drifting closed, without you knowing they had even begun to do so, and you blinked them back open. “Jesus, how many times are we gonna have to save your ass?” Tess asked rhetorically, a grimace that matched Joel’s on her face as she looked at the state of you.

“‘M fine.” You grumbled, moving to try and push her hand away but only pulling your hand back with a hiss at the sudden throbbing pain that bloomed in your fingers.

Tess smiled sarcastically, “Yeah, sure you are. Those are broken, by the way.” She said, nodding down to the fingers on your hand which were bloodied and bruised, swollen and now so painful you had to grind your teeth together. Your knuckles were split, and you looked around, seeing no sign of a body, but you couldn’t help wondering what the other guy must look like.

You didn’t say anything else to her, just focusing on keeping your eyes open and attempting to remember whatever had happened to lead you to such a state. Nothing came up.

Even when Joel lifted your arm, hand gripping your wrist tightly as he pulled your elbow around his neck until he was holding most of your weight. He stumbled slightly when you did, and let out a gruff comment about you handling some of your own weight.

You did your best, but he ended up practically carrying you all the way back to their apartment, which was a couple of blocks. You vaguely wondered how they had even come across you, but figured you were in no place to ask questions.

“Remember what happened this time?” Tess asked, opening the door to their shared apartment so Joel could pull you through it, his arms straining to keep you upright. It was a much harder task when you were conscious but barely in control of your own limbs. He had thought about carrying you, but decided that was much too strange.

You shook your head, but realised she was facing away from you, and you hoped Joel hadn’t noticed your mistake. “Not a fucking clue.” You slurred out, tongue feeling heavy in your mouth as it tried to spell out the words.

Joel huffed out a breath through his nose as he set you down against their couch, his shoulders slouching as he finally relaxed his muscles, feeling a distant ache in his arm from being so tensed. He went down the hallway a second later, disappearing from your view.

“You are one lucky kid.” Tess drawled, the scene so familiar to the first time you met the two of them, as she held a glass of alcohol loosely in her hand. Distantly, you wondered if they had a glass every day, and if that meant they had shitloads of the stuff stored away somewhere, but decided you probably shouldn’t be thinking about it.

You scoffed, brows furrowed in aggravation despite the fact they had probably saved your lives. “Yeah, lucky. Sure.” You said, likely the clearest you had been able to speak since you’d woken up. Or become aware. You weren’t really sure which was more accurate.

Tess smiled, a sarcastic one that was full of humour and annoyance, “Oh, you don’t think so? Should we think about what could’ve happened if somebody else had found you there?” She asked, eyebrows raised, and you grit your teeth to stay silent.

You, better than anyone, knew what could’ve happened. You knew what people in this QZ — hell, in this world, — were capable of. So maybe you were lucky that Joel and Tess had found you, considering that they hadn’t ratted you in to FEDRA just yet, but you knew that the one thing this world would never generate is trust. They could be just as bad, or worse, as anyone else who might have discovered you there, bloody, injured, and completely unaware.

After all, you were at their apartment, with no idea why.

“She knows, Tess,” Joel grumbled, reappearing from the hallway and looking just as unhappy as ever. He sighed, drawn out and heavier than you had expected, and held up a wet cloth. “Come on, kid, get yourself cleaned up.” He handed it over to you, and ushered Tess to follow him back down the hallway, where they spoke in harshly whispered voices.

You wiped the side of your face, getting rid of the sticky blood that was coming from the side of your head. It was kind of difficult to do with no mirror, but you wiped as much of it off as you could get to before you stopped, breathing through the pain in your head, your fingers, the left side of your chest. You grimaced as you tried to wipe blood away from your split knuckles, your broken fingers. It hurt, and it was too real of a pain.

You paused when you heard Tess’s voice raise, “She’s going to get us caught, or killed, Joel!” She said, before her tone lowered once more, further discussion happening between them. You wondered what they could be talking about — they held no obligation to pick you up off of the streets. They didn’t owe you anything. As far as you were concerned, you didn’t owe them anything, either. Everything they had done was of their own volition, meaning you hadn’t forced them into anything.

For whatever reason, they felt the need to help you. You couldn’t pretend to understand it, but you did know that this couch was much more comfortable than the stones of whatever street you had been lay on were.

Joel came down the hall soon enough, a crease between his brows, and he grunted when he saw the poor job you had done of cleaning yourself up. “Get to the bathroom, kid. We’ll patch you up there.”

“Why?” You asked, before you could help yourself. They didn’t need to be doing this, so why were they? Tess was right, you were only a danger to whatever operation they had going on, so why?

“It’s either that or you carry on bleeding out on our couch.” Tess called out, rustling through something as soon as she emerged from the hallway, busying herself in drawers and cupboards.

You figured it’d be in your best interest to not bleed out on their couch.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Weirdly, it was the fourth time you ran into Joel and Tess that everything seemed to fall into place. Except this time, it was you doing just that, running into them. Or more accurately, him.

You had hit against shoulders in your fast pace, sending various people tumbling backwards or stepping out of your path. Helpful for you, yes, but also helpful for the group chasing you. You tried not to look back, but the footsteps chasing you were growing louder and you had to know how close they were.

One look over your shoulder led to you colliding with somebody, and you cursed as it sent you spilling to the floor at their side. With a scathing glare on your face, your heart going a mile a minute, you looked up to see none other than Joel fucking Miller.

“You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me.” Joel murmured, eyes wide as he looked to where you had fallen after running into him. The alarm in your eyes made him move to face where you were looking, and there were three of Robert’s goons. He noticed, quickly, the knife that one of them was holding.

Without a second thought, he stepped between you and the group approaching, his hands clenching into fists as he grit his teeth. He wasn’t good at negotiating, at talking — that was more of Tess’s side of the deal. If it came to it, though, he could take on these fools. And he could play it off as if he was defending himself from the knife they were carrying, if need be.

They sputtered to a stop in front of him, a wary look exchanged between the two men, as the woman behind glared daggers at him. “Come on, Miller, move outta the way.” The man holding the knife said, tilting his head to one side as if that was going to make Joel listen to his directions.

Joel’s eyebrows set lower on his face as he looked back to you, with your wide eyes, and the way you scrambled up to stand just behind him. He huffed, a tired sigh leaving him, and turned back to the goons.

“Not happening.”

The three of them scoffed, incredulous, and the woman stepped forward with a sneer on her face. “What? You some kinda saviour now, Miller? Gonna start defending all the helpless little girls?” She said, voice venomous, but she stepped back when Joel went to move forward.

You, however, were not having that.

“Helpless?” You questioned, a scathing heat burning its way down your throat, “I’d like to see you go and ask your boss how helpless I am.”

Joel’s hand blocking your path stopped you from stepping towards the woman, your teeth bared at her, but you remained behind the man. You may not like listening to him, but he seemed to know what he was doing far more than you did.

“You bitch,” The final man said, no weapon held in his hand, but there was something dark about him that even Joel could see. Joel pushed against you, putting you further behind him as the man stepped forward. “When I—”

Joel’s eyes darkened considerably, and he knew from the expressions on the group’s faces that they had seen his face harden. “When you what?” He asked, looking down at the group before him, something violent in his words, as if daring the man to finish his sentence, to say something that Joel didn’t like, to give him the excuse.

“Can’t you just mind your own goddamn business, Miller?” The one with the knife asked, his lips drawn back in what was almost a snarl as he tried to catch a good look at you from around Joel’s shoulder.

“This is my goddamn business. Now run yourselves back to Robert before this gets out of hand.” Joel said, the threat in his words clear despite him having said nothing particularly violent. It was explicit in his tone, apparently. His gruff words were somewhat of a comfort to you, though, a slight relief that you could stop running, for now. You were also hoping that this meant your messed up shoulder would be your only injury of the day.

“Are you having a fucking laugh?” The woman asked, incredulous, as she stared at where Joel stood tall in front of you.

“Do I look like I’m laughing?” Joel asked, being met with nothing but deadly silence. You peeked around his arm to see the three of them looking like fools in front of him, their cocky, entitled attitudes falling apart under the weight of his words. The three of them shared a glance, gritted teeth and angered glares, and looked to Joel with a more than annoyed expression.

The man with no weapon caught sight of you looking around Joel, and pointed his hand at you, “Just you fucking wait.” He threatened, putting his hand down when Joel’s shoulders straightened, his legs moving to take a step towards the man, who quickly backed away alongside his two companions. They left without another word, throwing angry looks over their shoulders until they disappeared out of sight, at which point Joel turned to you.

“How is it that I always find myself savin’ your ass?” Joel asked, mostly to himself, as he looked at where you stood, a hand holding your other and close to your chest. He sighed, heavily, “You hurt?”

“I’ve been worse.” You admitted, though Joel knew better than anyone. He could see on your face that the swelling from around your black eye hadn’t long faded to almost normal, he could see the stitched cut along the back of your forearm, could see the way you winced as you attempted to shrug, give up halfway.

Joel nodded, studying you for a moment, his eyes drawn to the way your clothes had been ripped after your fall to the ground. He frowned. It was getting colder as the days went on, and he was already sceptical about the lack of layers you wore. He huffed out another sigh, a frown pinched between his eyebrows, and looked back down the street to ensure the goons hadn’t decided to come back. When the coast was clear, he turned back to you where you stood almost nervously, and he realised this was the first time he had seen you out during the day time. Every other time he had discovered you it had been the midst of the night.

“C’mon, let’s get back.” He murmured, keeping the mean look on his face in case anybody else came after you. For once, you didn’t say anything, just following along at Joel’s side, wincing every time you moved your arm.

“I remember what happened this time,” You offered, when the two of you finally reached Joel and Tess’s shared apartment, with you taking your seat on their couch with a half-repressed sigh. Your feet were aching, and your shoulder was killing, but at least you could rest here for a while.

Joel looked up from his rummaging at that, surprised by not only what you said, but the fact that you had said it at all. Each time, one of them prompted you for information, and you never remembered. Or you weren’t willing to share the small details you did recall. It was strange for you to offer such information to him. “Yeah?” He prompted absently, continuing to look through drawers after his slight pause.

“Yeah,” You answered as you raised an eyebrow at his actions, wondering what he could be searching for. Before you could lose your nerve, you continued, “Got into some stupid business with some guy called Robert, and then he tried to rip me off. I got kicked outta school trying to get what he needed, too.” You scoffed as you spoke, paying less attention to Joel’s reaction and focusing more on your annoyance at the whole situation. “I just… got angry, started hittin’ the guy. Then ran away, and they started chasing me.”

“What were you goin’ into business with him for?” Joel asked after you had finished, his eyebrows creased together. Robert had a way of getting to old world stuff, but everyone knew he was dodgy. Often times, it was double-sold, or broken. He was a scammer, and that was coming from Joel, who had upped prices to ridiculous amounts on the shit he and Tess smuggled in, per her order, of course.

You huffed, “I dunno, just wanted something. Doesn’t matter, anyway. He didn’t have it.”

“Well, you tell me what it is and I’ll see what I can do.” Joel offered, unsure as to why. He hated himself for doing this, for letting you in, for feeling some inexplicable reason to help you each time you were hurt. He couldn’t understand it. Perhaps, he could say you reminded him of someone who’s name he refused to speak, but that wasn’t right. You shared very few similarities with her, in fact, Joel would argue that you looked more like him. That lost look in your eyes, the blurred vision you saw through when he found you covered in blood, the memories lost to bloodshed… it was like looking in a mirror.

He felt some sort of responsibility towards you — as if helping you could heal his own wounds. Joel figured he should’ve known by now that something like that would never work.

Perhaps, he just wished that someone could’ve pulled him out of that state, when he was in it. He couldn’t say your reasons for being like this, hell, it could just be a product of the apocalyptic world you lived in, but he figured that one day, you’d grow to be like him. And god, he was hoping that you could avoid it. So if him helping you could do that, could steer your path away from seeing him in your reflection, he’d do it.

“I said it didn’t matter.” You responded, snappily. Clearly whatever you had been after was personal, held close to your chest. He couldn’t blame you for not wanting to reveal it.

Joel said nothing for a moment, but looked at you from where he stood across the room. “You got kicked outta school?” He asked, instead of pressing the subject. He saw a weight lift off of your shoulder at the change in topic.

“Yeah, got caught sneaking out too many times. Said I must have some place else to go, and that I’m old enough to know what the fuck I’m doing.” You said, rolling your eyes at the memory. You weren’t all too bothered about it. Learning about the world through a government’s perception wasn’t all that mind blowing, and you hated drills. You didn’t want to be a FEDRA soldier. So, in reality, it was quite the gift.

You had to think that way, too stubborn to remember how your father had always talked about you going to those kind of schools, about you getting an education that was more than him just pointing out words and teaching you basic math. He had never quite understood that you learned more from him than you would from anybody else.

Joel’s eyebrows pinched, a look that was almost concern shining through his eyes. “You’re just a kid.” He said, having no reaction to the way you glared at him.

“I can take care of myself.” You told him, firmly, trying your best not to think about how many times he and Tess had pulled you out of shit, likely saving your life. It didn’t matter. At the end of the day, all you had was yourself.

“Where are you staying?” He asked, eyebrows raised at you, as if he was proving his point by asking it, especially when you didn’t answer immediately. All orphans went to FEDRA school, until they were old enough to get sent to a position as a guard or they were kicked back out to the street. He knew you weren’t old enough to be put in that position just yet. After all, FEDRA didn’t allocate housing to people of your age.

You looked to your hand in your lap, picking at the blood still stuck underneath your nails. “Not important.”

“No?” Joel asked, just a hint away from mockingly. You furrowed your brows at him, a frown pulling at your lips in defence.

“No.” You answered.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

You think now, that you would have never been in this situation if you hadn’t accepted Joel’s insistence that you stay with him and Tess. It had gotten to a point of normalcy, something so close to domestic that it had you sneaking out of their apartment, up the fire escape back to the roof where it all began to unravel, all those nights ago.

The stain of blood on the ground is still there, and you had been staring at it long enough that you were starting to miss where it began and ended. You still couldn’t pull the memories from that night from your skull, and you were starting to think they weren’t in there at all.

It had all led you to here, to where you sat, legs swinging over the edge of the air-conditioning unit on the roof of the building. Or at least, that’s what Joel told you these things were. You frowned at the memory.

You hated the way you had let all of this happen, had let yourself get closer to the people who seemed to always be there. They were more present in your life than any other figure, even before you moved in with them. It had seemed as if you only woke up from your haze when they pulled you out of it. You couldn’t begin to understand why, and honestly, you didn’t really want to.

All you knew was that this was exhausting. You had been present for the longest time you could remember since before your father had… well, since before everything changed. And it was all because there was a ball of anxiety in your chest, hammering loudly within the beat of your heart.

Maybe it was selfish, or foolish, maybe it was both, to feel so dejected over something that should be good. But it was all feeling too familial for your liking, and it was like a constant waiting game, constantly wondering when the other shoe would drop. There had to be some sort of catch, something would surely go wrong, because life with Joel and Tess was becoming too comfortable. You should’ve been happy for it. Perhaps any other kid your age would have been, but all you could think of was the time before Boston.

Images of a house, a father who cared about you, who bought you paints and brushes even when that would have been better spent on new boots for himself. You could remember the way the sole had been peeling away when you had last seen him, remember the way he had yelled at you, begged you to leave him behind.

Sure, you had listened, had walked away from him slumped against the wall of a decrepit convenience store, but you had never truly left him behind. All the times you had spent in Boston, in a subconscious state, there had been no more memories. Before Tess and Joel, the most vivid thing you could recall was your dad.

If you closed your eyes, shut out the image of the blood staining concrete, and focused hard enough, you could hear his laugh. Reluctant laughter was something you had often drawn out of him, because he found the only joy he had left in the world within you. But there was always that nagging worry, at the very back of his mind, reminding him that things weren’t okay.

Hell, the whole reason he had insisted upon leaving the house where you had spent most of your life was because he believed you would be safer in Boston, in a QZ rather than a small community with not enough firepower to cope with any hordes.

He’d been a firm man, with a furrow between his brows that you could now see in Joel’s face, and you hated it. Your dad had given up everything for you. Why were you seeing similarities between him and Joel?

“Come on, it’s time to get going!” Tess called to you, dragging you from where you were trying to conjure up an image of your dad that wasn’t his last moments. You huffed, pushing off of the air conditioning unit, and headed down the fire escape, taking your backpack from Tess where she held it out to you.

It hadn’t been your choice to go along with Joel and Tess, more of an order, given that they didn’t want to leave you alone at their apartment. They were running low on ration cards, not enough for you to survive alone, especially if anything went wrong. That was the whole purpose of their trip, they had told you, to get something they could trade for more cards. The two of them hadn’t explained to you the radio and music catalogue that sat in their apartment, but you had figured out that it must’ve been some sort of communication system. If you were going to go off of the way Joel’s head had snapped up when some song you didn’t recognise came on.

The three of you were setting off the next day, so it must’ve meant something to them.

Joel had said something about you being in for some kind of treat, assuring you that the trip would be worth it, despite the way you remained unconvinced. You didn't want to leave the QZ again, but part of you, that stupid childish part, was curious.

So you followed them.

You were quiet most of the trip, despite Joel trying to encourage conversation with you, a crease of concern to his face the more checked out you became.

In your own defence, you seemed to be on guard well enough when you retreated to that state where it wasn’t really you, and the whole trip was too familiar. If you didn’t focus hard enough on your surroundings, you would wake up and be with your father again, or you’d lack attention and hear that gunshot as you walked away.

It was easier this way. Safer.

You also didn’t expect for Joel or Tess to notice anything different, but then you were blinking back into reality some time later, though you couldn’t tell how much. Joel’s face was in front of your own, his eyebrows furrowed, expression angrier than you had seen it in a while.

Looking around the area, over Joel’s shoulder, you saw a burning building some ways behind him, and your eyebrows raised in surprise. “What happened there?” You asked, your throat sore as you said it, your chest aching, and you were more confused than anything else at the sensation.

“What were you thinking?” Joel seethed, seemingly becoming angrier at your question, and you tried not to pay the emotion any mind. You looked around again, squinting your eyes and catching sight of Tess stood before the building, her gun raised to the doorway as if expecting something to come out of the blaze. “Huh?” He questioned, drawing your attention back.

“What are you talking about?” You asked, getting more confused by the second. You looked down to where your fingers were apparently covered in soot, and slowly connected that with the burning building across the way. “Wait, did I—”

“You can’t check out like that! You’re gonna get yourself killed.” Joel said, and you felt his hand squeeze your shoulder far more gently than the way he was speaking. He seemed… frantic, almost. You frowned, because nobody had ever really noticed you blanking out before, or at least, nobody had ever said anything to you about it.

Your awareness came back to you fully then, and you could feel the heat from the fire even all the way over here, so you couldn’t imagine the heat Tess was feeling. With a huffed breath, you pulled yourself to your feet, shrugging Joel’s hand off when he tried to help you as you stumbled slightly. Your bag felt lighter than it had before, but at least you still had it.

Joel grumbled, his hard expression unchanging as he turned away from you to go and grab Tess, nodding at you to follow them as you hurried away from the burning building, blinking as you tried to remember what had happened.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Arriving at Bill and Frank’s compound was… overwhelming. Which was probably the biggest understatement ever.

Tess and Joel didn’t think it pertinent to tell you where you were headed before leaving Boston, and you weren’t all that well versed in where smugglers got their items to smuggle. You figured it would be some run down place, that was mostly untouched by the outbreak.

You didn’t expect this.

Initially, it reminded you of the small community you had lived in with your father, all that time ago. Though this place was guarded much better, with that electric fence that Joel warned you away from. The houses looked good, and there was one down the street, with a wide porch and old kids toys piled in the garden, which made your heart clench.

You wanted to retreat back into yourself, to hide in that haze, to let the blanket of emptiness cover you, but then Frank was emerging from the doorway of their house, his grip tight on a walking stick, but his smile was wide. He was tailed by Bill, whose hands hovered hesitantly as he followed Frank.

“Tess! Joel!” Frank called, and held his arms out for Tess when she approached, sharing a hug like they were family. You were pretty sure that they were just friends, had no connection before the outbreak. It was strange, really, to think of hugging someone that wasn’t a relation. Or perhaps it was the caring part of it that had your brows creased. “And who’s this?” He asked, smiling at you.

With a nod from Joel, you introduced yourself to the man, trying not to shrink into yourself at his cheerful demeanour, and the suspicious glances of Bill from beside him.

“Bill, it’s fine,” Frank sighed, a roll of his eyes as he turned to the man. “Go get started on dinner! We’re going to sit out here, while the weather is nice.”

Bill grumbled, eyes darting between the three of you and the man he loved, but he turned with a resigned sigh. Frank grinned, a fond look on his face.

Tess busied herself setting the table, ignoring the way Frank scolded her for doing his job, only shooting him an exasperated smile. After a moment, Frank realised there were only four chairs set around the small garden table.

“Oh, I think there’s another in my art room.” He said, as he looked between you and the four chairs.

Unable to help yourself, “You have an art room?” You asked, which was probably the most you had spoken for the past few days. You ignored the way Joel seemed to perk up at your words, a glance going between him and Tess.

Frank smiled. He seemed to do a lot of that. “You wanna have a look?” He asked kindly, nodding his head and starting towards the house.

“Go on.” Joel encouraged with his monotone murmur. You hesitantly followed Frank into the house.

You didn’t look around much, instead opting to focus on keeping close to the man in front of you. If you looked to closely, you think you might see similarities to the home you had with your dad, and after already shutting down once on this journey, you figured that Joel wouldn’t be too pleased if you did it again.

It was wracking your nerves, the closer you got to Frank’s art room. You wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone, not even your father, had he been here, but you were scared. You had gotten so good at removing yourself from a multitude of situations, but the concept of art had you grounded in place no matter how much you might have wanted to fade back into your mind. You can remember nights spent staying up late, dipping brushes in colours that resembled the world around you almost too accurately. The gentle swipe of paint across paper, canvas, walls, wood — whatever your father could give you, at the time.

It was the best thing you had.

You realise, now, that you had been escaping from the world for your whole life. Only back then, it had been to nicer lands, beauty put down on different mediums so you could physically touch it, could know it was true, it was real. The only thing that had changed was your method of escaping, really. Where you had once clambered for colours and depictions of the world in a different light, you now escaped to the very depths of your mind, hidden deep under sadness and fear and loneliness. Somewhere that you couldn’t be disturbed, wouldn’t have to think about the world and what it had taken from you.

You’re scared of wanting that old method of escape back.

When you enter the art room, you know your fear is valid. You know that the longing you have for paints and pencils and whatever supplies your father could get his hands on was back, or perhaps it was just the longing for your father returning full force from where you had buried it. Whatever it might have been, it was overwhelming.

It made everything feel like it meant more. Like the careful brushes of meticulously selected colours on white canvases was personal to you.

Frank’s art was covering the entire room, a stack of empty canvases in one corner, dwarfed by the amount of wooden frames that had sketched or painted pictures stretched over them. It was bright in here, the colours seemingly glowing from the light that was shining through the large windows, looking out on parts of the garden.

“This one isn’t finished,” Frank said, his voice quiet, and you looked to where you had forgotten he was standing. He leant heavily on his walking stick, gesturing with his free hand toward a canvas stood upon an easel — the first easel you had seen. When your dad first encouraged your interest in art, he had told you all about what his time in art class at school had been like. He’d told you about the easels, the shitty school paints — which were heavenly compared to what yours had been like — and his own art teacher. But easels weren’t the most common thing, and so you had never used one.

The painting that stood upon the strange-looking three legged stand looked like the beginnings of Bill’s face, blue eyes surrounded by carefully mixed colours to bring about the contours of the man’s skin. It was much better than anything you had ever painted.

“Have you ever painted?” Frank asked, after a few moments of hesitation. He’d lived in the apocalyptic world, too, but he hadn’t grown up in it. The man had more awareness than you expected, given his presence in such a protected home, but you supposed that if he knew Tess and Joel, it made sense that he would be sensitive of the world’s horrors.

You looked at the paintbrushes set out to dry beside an open window, and quickly drew your gaze away. “Yeah,” You responded, voice uncharacteristically gentle. You cleared your throat, annoyed at your own involuntary vulnerability. “My dad used to get paints, before I got to Boston.”

If Frank noticed your choice of pronoun ‘I’ and not ‘we’, he didn’t comment on it. He let your words settle for a moment, and you realised this was probably the most open you had been, the most you had spoken of your life before Boston. It was almost… sad. You think your dad would’ve loved Bill and Frank’s home, and the knowledge that nobody else would ever be able to consider what he would like was a painful admission.

“Well, I’m sure you could take some back with you.” Frank offered, a gentle smile on his face. He seemed to know more than he let on, even when your words were limited and he didn’t know you, hadn’t even met you before today.

You tried to brush your discomfort away, tried to unwind the stiffness to your shoulders. “That’s okay.” You said, fiddling with a button on your jacket as you took one more glance around the room, an uncomfortable tightening in your throat. “We’d better get back.” You prompted, walking to the chair in front of the easel and picking it up, gesturing for Frank to lead the way back to the garden.

“You alright?” Joel asked quietly as you set the chair down by his side, taking a seat in it a moment after as Frank and Tess began chatting away.

“I’m fine.” You snapped.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

It was on the way back from Bill and Frank’s that everything seemed to go wrong. For this portion of the journey, you made sure to cling on to every slither of awareness you had, digging your claws into consciousness and not letting go. You wouldn’t admit it, but the whole situation on the way there had shaken you.

You supposed it was different to the way blanking out in the QZ had been. After all, there was a certain amount of control in the QZ, much less of a wild factor than there was in the outside world. You could anticipate everything that you might come into contact with at the QZ, and each time, nothing was scary enough for you to even consider holding on to consciousness. Out in the real world, that was very different.

Despite travelling in it to the Quarantine Zone, there wasn’t a whole lot of that you could remember after the incident with your father. Everything was unpredictable, out here, and you were foolish to forget that. Especially after what it cost you the first time.

There may have been something else, though, something that had your fingers grasping onto reality so tightly you didn’t think you would ever let go. And that was the fact that it wasn’t just yourself that you were putting in danger, anymore, but Tess and Joel, too. And would you ever be able to forgive yourself if you came to awareness, just to see their blood on your hands? To find their bodies lay still? To be at fault once again for killing the only people left in the world that would see you safe? You could pretty confidently say no, you would never be able to forgive such a thing.

Even with your best attempts to cling on to your own awareness, it was clear that Joel and Tess didn’t quite trust your efforts. Given the fact that they refused to let you take a watch when night fell early, stopping to wait the darkness out just over halfway back to the Zone. Tess had already taken first watch, shaking Joel awake despite your offer to watch the area for him, so it was just you and Joel, Tess’s breaths long-since evened out.

“You can get some rest, y’know.” Joel said, his voice low to avoid waking Tess. You were well aware that she was a light sleeper, though you couldn’t blame her. It was the apocalypse, after all. Besides, it wasn’t like you were able to catch much sleep, too hyper focused on staying present to drift even into slumber, fearing you wouldn’t become conscious afterwards, fearing you would just wake.

“‘M fine, Joel.” You grumbled in response, eyes flitting around the rustling grass surrounding you, as if something was going to jump out at any moment.

Joel huffed, something between exasperation and vague amusement in it, and shook his head. “Sure, you are, kid.” He responded, adjusting his grip on the gun and resigning himself to the fact that you were going to stay up, no matter what he said. “Not gonna let anythin’ hurt you, you do know that, right?” He asked, after a long pause, and ignored the unpleasant way your face twisted.

“Why do you two help me? I don’t get it. Not done anything to help you, so why?” You questioned, instead of answering his question, too desperate to know to avoid the opening in the conversation. Joel sighed, a roll of his eyes, a deflection, as always.

“So impossible to believe that we could just be good people?” Joel replied, after your expectant silence lingered on uncomfortably. He shuffled, pausing when Tess moved, but only turned in her sleep.

You huffed, and Joel tried to ignore the way he was sure it sounded just like him. “Yes, it is impossible to believe that. You found me after I…” You paused, unsure how to go about admitting something you didn’t even remember. “After that FEDRA guard. Good people wouldn’t help me, after seeing that.”

“Been in your shoes, kid.” Joel said, at last, and you furrowed your brows at his answer. And the nickname he had taken to calling you. Joel didn’t exactly want to talk about it, both for the unpleasantness he had experienced and the worry that you’d retreat if he was honest. He could barely even explain the why to himself, so he had no idea how he could formulate it into words to tell you. “Not a good place to be, even worse if you’re alone.” He admitted, though he hadn’t been alone for as long as he could remember. There had always been Tommy, and after Tommy there was Sarah, and then his brother returned, but even then — he had Tess. But despite all that company, Joel knew exactly how it felt to be isolated, to be alone in your situation, to feel no other option than to retreat into yourself to get through the day.

He wouldn’t wish it upon anyone, let alone you.

You wanted to deny it, to tell Joel that you weren’t alone. That you already had a family you loved, that you already had a dad who cared about you, but what could you say? The truth was, he was gone.

“Get some sleep.” Joel said, dismissing the conversation before you could figure out anything to say. You just frowned at him, staring at him like his expression held all the answers, but as always, Joel revealed nothing. No reasoning, no answers, nothing. Finally, you turned away from him, resting your head against your backpack, eyes remaining open so you could keep an eye on the forest ahead of you for the last few hours of the night.

When the light finally a swept the last of the darkness away, the three of you set off again. Now, you were at the final stretch of your journey — so close to the QZ you could almost smell the pungent scent of fire and unrest. You never thought you’d be glad to see the decimated land around the Boston zone, but here you were, five steps ahead of Tess and Joel, who shared secret glances, communicating in a language you couldn’t understand.

They joined your side when you paused, waiting for them, just along the edge of where FEDRA usually patrolled. You looked to the two adults expectantly, not sure where you’d be entering the Zone, and figuring you must’ve been out of it if they had ever actually told you that part.

Now this, this was where it all went downhill.

“On your knees.” A voice from behind the three of you said, and you recognised the sound of a familiar FEDRA officer, from your time spent as a trainee. You just hoped he wouldn’t remember you. “I said, get on your knees!” He repeated, when the three of you had hesitated a moment too long, stepping forward and jabbing the end of his gun into the back of your knee. You grit your teeth as your knees buckled from the hit, dropping to the ground with your hands raised. You watched Joel and Tess follow when the guard moved towards them. Joel’s jaw was clenched.

“We’re just lookin’ to get to the QZ, man, that’s all.” Tess said, keeping her hands in the air and her head tilted as she tried to negotiate, as usual.

“Just a precaution, ma’am.” The guard responded, a snark to his voice. Despite what he said, when you first arrived to the QZ, there was no precautions this far out. In fact, it was only when you stalked towards the gate that guns were trained on you, your wrists bound until they got you through the main gate to test you.

He was patting down Tess, and you would’ve sworn you could hear Joel grinding his teeth together, clenching his jaw shut so tightly you wouldn’t have been surprised if it had broken. Meanwhile, you focused on trying to remember the name of the guard, trying to recall his temperament, whether he was easily swayed. You blinked your eyes shut, trying to see through the haze that clouded your memories as the guy moved on to Joel, but without seeing the guy’s face, it was too difficult.

“What kinda QZ has precautions this far out?” Joel grumbled as the guard moved along, checking the distance towards the gate with squinted eyes, and trying his best not to clench his fists as the guard moved towards you.

“You born yesterday, man? World’s fucked.” The guard answered, stepping away from you and moving to go around to see the front of the three of you. “Well, I never.” He chuckled, catching sight of your face as it fell, finally putting the voice to the face as you looked at him. “Don’t recall seeing your name on the exist list, trainee.” FEDRA had a bunch of awful guards, but this guy… Jerry, you were pretty fucking sure, was amongst the worst of them.

“Not a trainee, anymore.” You bit out in response, practically feeling the two adults beside you tensing up at the FEDRA guard’s recognition of you. “You even know my name, Jerry?” You asked, tilting your head upwards with your best reinvention of the careless expression that used to rile the man up so much.

He smiled, a grin full of rotten teeth and breath that stung your eyes as he leaned towards you. You resisted the urge to throw up over his shoes as he said your name, proving your hopeful taunt incorrect.

“Alright, now, no need for trouble.” Joel said placatingly, trying to keep the grimace off of his face in exchange for a more… reasonable expression. “We ain’t Infected, just a couple of folks tryin’ to be on their way.”

“Shut your mouth, and mind your business, fella.” Jerry spat towards Joel, before he looked back to you, a grin on that ugly face. “I’ve been trying to get the dirt to have you hung for months, now. Unauthorised exit? Well, that ought’a do it.” He said, morbid amusement dancing across his face. You just bared your teeth at him, a sarcastic expression donning your features.

“Careful, Jerry. You’re soundin’ awfully obsessed. Didn’t they out you for that, once already?” You asked, sarcastically, recalling the way he had been shamed outright by a higher up for getting on the trainee’s cases too much. FEDRA was strict already, so if he was getting publicly scolded for his obsessive behaviour, you figured it must’ve been bad.

You saw the way Joel was tensed up out of the corner of your eye, but didn’t dare turn to look at him, or even attempt to see how Tess was fairing.

It was when Jerry reared back, his rotten teeth bared, a sneer pulling at his features, that you saw Joel move. He’d noticed a second before you did, the way that the FEDRA guard was reaching for his smaller weapon, his handgun, barely getting it out of the holster before Joel was launching up and forwards, pushing Jerry and falling alongside him as they rolled down the slight slope to go towards the QZ gate.

“Joel!” Tess yelled out, a curse falling from her lips as she grabbed the stuff that Jerry had been attempting to confiscate before realising who you were. She dug through her bag, looking for her own gun, too risky to have it on her person this close to the QZ for this goddamn reason. You glanced between her searching frantically and the duo fighting slightly below you, before you caught a glint of metal in one of their hands. Did Joel have a knife? Did he have a knife, or was that Jerry’s? Was Jerry about to fucking stab Joel, who had tackled him to protect you?

You stumbled down the slight decline after the two of them, just as Jerry was catching the upper hand, something red trickling down his sleeve. You pulled the very gun he had tried to pull on you from its holster at his side, before he could even react to you having moved from where you were. He was slow, this guy, but that didn’t mean he was incapable. He was freakishly strong, and he bared bloody teeth at you as he moved to swing the blade in his hands down.

A crack interrupted his movements, blood dancing a crimson path down the side of his forehead.

Jerry’s body slumped backwards, falling away from where he had been about to fucking kill Joel Miller, all for what? His helmet made a dull thunk against the ground as it connected, and Joel was groaning, shoving the deadweight off of him with a bit of a struggle.

“The fuck were you thinking?” Tess asked, grasping onto Joel’s shoulders to help him up, only for him to hiss and pull away, and you vaguely saw Tess’s hand covered in a sticky sheen of blood that had leaked through the material of Joel’s jacket. “Jesus, Joel, you could’ve gotten yourself killed.” She scolded, pulling the jacket away and unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt to look at the wound. She dug through her bag to pull a few rags out of it, pressing the material against the fucking stab wound, and waiting for Joel’s steady hand to take over before she moved away. “Come on, we can’t wait around. If they’re patrolling this far out, something must’ve gone down, and I doubt anyone’s far enough to have not heard that.” She said, nodding pointedly towards the gun gripped tightly in your fingers.

At her reminder, you shivered, taking the knife from Jerry’s limp hand and replacing it with the gun. You wiped the blood — Joel’s blood — off of the blade onto the side of your jacket, before shoving it back in its place on Jerry’s vest, which you hadn’t even realised was there. You wondered if Joel knew, before he decided to attack him.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

You blinked, and realised you were already back at the apartment you stayed in with Joel and Tess.

Joel was sat at the table, med kit set out open in front of him, with Tess being nowhere in sight. He barely spared you a glance as you stood up from the sofa you didn’t remember sitting on, your brows furrowed as you looked around the room, as if the answers—the memories—you wanted would be revealed.

“She went to trade what we managed to get from Bill and Frank’s.” Joel told you, not even looking in your direction as he focused on fixing himself up. He had the rag in his hand once again, wiping at the blood still trickling from his wound. You wondered if Tess didn’t tell you where she was going, or if Joel just knew you weren’t present if she did.

You didn’t even know what had sent you back to the depths of your mind, this time. Was it shooting Jerry? Killing somebody whilst actually being fully responsible for your actions? Was it his threats about getting you hung? Or was it that very wound that Joel was tending to right now? The fact that once again, somebody got hurt, and it was your fault?

“Can you hand me the, uh…” Joel trailed off, gesturing over towards the counter where amber liquid sat in a glass bottle. You went over and grabbed it, placing it down on the table in front of Joel far harsher than you realised you were going to. You hadn’t quite noticed the way anger, or something defensive at least, had settled in your chest, stirring that brimming pot of guilt until it was almost flowing over the edges. “Thanks.” Joel said gruffly, splashing some of the booze onto the rag and pressing it to his shoulder.

You stared at him, waiting for him to say something, to explain himself, but he made no move to do so.

“What is wrong with you?” You said, finally, your voice loud and echoing around the barely furnished room, like it had burst from your chest, like you had no choice in the matter.

“Got stabbed, in case you didn’t notice.” Joel quipped, which seemed even further out of character for him. You vaguely wondered if you had just lost your mind, if this was all some made up scenario playing out in your head.

“Why did you attack him? He didn’t attack you, I—I don’t understand!” You told him, gritting your teeth when Joel just continued tending to his wound, not acknowledging your questioning. Part of you wished Tess was here so she could dismiss you before you could continue, but she was clearly nowhere nearby, given that she hadn’t burst into the room to stop any conflict. “Joel, answer me.”

He finally looked up, shaking his head. “What do you want me to say, huh? Somebody’s gotta protect you! Lord knows you don’t do it yourself! Rilin’ that guard up— it was reckless. He could’ve killed you, kid, and what would I have done then?” Joel questioned, his voice louder than your own, a booming thing that had you wanting to retreat. You refused, pushing it down in favour of the confrontation that you’d been putting off for months, by now.

“I can take care of myself.” You answered, spitting the words out like there was a semblance of truth to them. “I’m not your goddamn kid, Joel, there are plenty of other strays you could help out if I had died.” You continued, throwing the nickname back in his face, watching the way he recoiled, something unfamiliar flashing in his eyes.

“Now, you listen—”

He tried to say, only to be interrupted by you continuing on. “No! You’re not my dad, Joel! I already had a dad, okay? I had a dad, and he’s dead, and that’s on me. I won’t go through that again. You gotta stop puttin’ your life on the line for me!”

“Kid…” Joel trailed, the confession not exactly surprising him, but he felt a twinge in his chest nonetheless. He had figured all of this was catalysed by some kind of loss, just going by his own experience with the matter, but he had never known for sure. You were closed off — another way you were just so similar to him, and you’d never spoken about any family.

You closed your eyes, tears brimming in the edges, slipping down your face, and you wiped them away with a rough swipe of your sleeve against your skin. “You don’t understand. It was my fault. If it weren’t for me, he’d—… Every day I’ve been here, I’ve just been wishing we could’ve swapped places, wishing that he was here instead of me, because I can’t do this without my dad. But—But he could’ve, without me.”

“When my Sarah died,” Joel started, gritting his teeth against the pain in his chest that just her name brought. “I gave up. I—I lost any will to live, I prayed that it wasn’t real, prayed for God to switch our places, to trade her life for mine. Tried to end it, and when that failed, I got numb. Got lost in my head, ended up fightin’ anybody I crossed paths with, usin’ any excuse to hurt people, even while I was with Tess. Barely even remember it,” Joel continued, a strained laugh falling from his lips, his hand held to his chest in hopes of soothing some of the ache that originated there. “Just remember wakin’ up, covered in—in blood, not knowing who the hell I hurt. So, when I saw you, not even present in your own goddamn head, I figured that wherever you came from, whatever family you might’ve had, they wouldn’t want you ending up like me.”

That pot of guilt in your chest felt like it would explode, even as you blinked back tears, only getting harder the longer Joel spoke, the more he told you. You had never taken him for a religious man, but you supposed you could relate to that, that desperation to just save your family’s life.

“I’ve got too much blood on my hands, kid,” Joel told you, the words going past the literal sense of his own blood, spilled across his palms from that wound that you had caused. It was deeper than that, it was something you related to, like he knew that sensation of fresh blood that plagued you, like it was dripping over your hands all the time. “You gotta wipe yours clean.”

Clearly, that wound on his shoulder wasn’t his only open one. It was there, gaping in his chest, weeping waves of guilt and suffering that hit you with such familiarity. My Sarah. You couldn’t help but think about your dad, couldn’t help wondering if this was how he’d feel, if your places had of swapped.

“He was my dad,” You said desperately, like it could explain everything, like the simple statement could convey everything you couldn’t put into other words. That’s not something you can replace, something you can change, something you can forget. You opened your mouth to continue, but all that happened was the tears stinging your eyes fell, and you turned your head to the side, hoping Joel wouldn’t see the way your lip was trembling.

Joel’s arms were warm when he wrapped them around you, blood still tacky on his shirt where it pressed to your jacket, but you barely noticed it. “She was my daughter.” He said in response, and suddenly it made sense.

If anything about your relationship with Joel was true, it was that you were mirror images. Reflections. Two sides of the same coin, two sides of the same story, one that told of grief and loss and pain that would never go away. His response was the answer you didn’t even realise you had been waiting for. He was my dad, and she was my daughter. Not replacements, not something to try and fill the gaps. The acknowledgment was everything you needed to wrap your arms around Joel, to squeeze his shirt between your fists and cry, to cry for the dad that you lost, for the daughter he lost, for everything the two of you would never have again.

You weren’t Joel’s daughter, and he wasn’t your dad.

That much was true, and you knew it, because you had each other. And maybe, come morning, you would still leave the apartment like you had been considering doing all along, or maybe you would stay. Maybe, you’d let yourself have this, this little family made up of torn apart pieces, of members too damaged to fit just right, of a dad who lost his daughter, and a daughter who lost her dad.

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mynameisnotfiveweenies · 4 months

Text

You've always been beautiful | Katsuki Bakugou x Chubby!Reader

Summary: After a bad date, Bakugou comforts you

Being in love was hard. Being in love with Katsuki Bakugou was even harder.

We went to middle school together and he was an ass. He thought because he had an amazing quirk that made him better than everyone else, I didn't like that. Izuku is my best friend and a target for bullies. I would take no shit. I stood up for Izuku many times, using my water quirk to counteract Bakugou's explosions. He turned a nasty shade of red whenever I did that.

Izuku learnt how to stand up for himself in UA and developed into an amazing hero so I wasn't needed as much to fight off the bullies, which meant me and Bakugou became nothing but classmates. That was until I began to fall for him.

It was easy, natural. I first started noticing him, like really noticing. The way he would train in class, the way his back muscles would tense under his costume when we would be in class, everything. I didn't tell anyone. There was no way he would like me or even find me attractive, so I kept it to myself.

It was around the middle of third year, when I had turned eighteen, that I started dating. I was on the usual apps and met a few people from there, most of them nice, some neutral and one guy a complete dick.

This one guy, lets call him Pete, was an asshole. I have always been big. Despite the training and the diet, I was big. It rarely bothered me and it never effected my training. I was happy with the way I looked.

I dressed in a maxi length, bodycon dress that clung to my hips, ass and my belly. I wore a cropped denim jacket to keep the cold out. I felt confident and wore light makeup and hoop earrings.

I came down from my dorm room and passed the living room, where everyone was having a movie night. I couldn't help but feel a bit embarrassed and my cheeks heated up.

Mina was the first to notice me as I tried to sneak passed and wolf whistled. "Damn mama!"

The whole class turned then and the whistling continued.

I couldn't help but glance at Bakugou. He did not whistle but he eyes were fixed on me. I placed my hands in front of my belly and walked quickly to the door, wanting to escape his gaze.

"Shut up!" I exclaimed as I opened the door.

"Use protection!" I heard Mina shout and I giggled out the door.

We agreed to meet at a restaurant. I turned up ten minutes late and found him siting near the window.

"Hey!" I greeted and he looked up.

He looked at me with wide eyes as I sat down.

That's when I knew, he didn't think I was going to be big.

My pictures did not hide anything, I showed everything as I had enough of being turned down because of my weight. He seemed to expect someone smaller.

The first red flag was when I ordered.

"I'll have a burger please." I shut the menu and handed it to the waitress with a smile.

"Really?" He said, his eyebrow turned up.

"Yeah?"

He didn't reply but his eyes were wide, I held my tongue.

The food was really good but he barely spoke. He kept glancing at me.

We ended the date and I couldn't wait to get out. I knew he wasn't interested and made me split the bill.

We were outside, he was waiting for a taxi. I said, "Thanks for the date."

He scoffed, putting a cigeratte between his teeth. "Well, you should really warn your dates you're fat in the future, by the way."

Despite everything, it stung.

"Yeah?" I said, my anger building. "Well you should warn your dates you're a short asshole, by the way."

I turned on my heel and walked away. My anger made me walk fast until I got closer to the dorms and I began to cry.

It was stupid. I liked how I looked but the comments were hard sometimes. I had been told my whole life that unless I lost weight, no one would ever love me. I believed for a long time. I tried everything, every diet you can think of. I starved myself, made myself sick but this is it. I am just big. I train everyday and eat well to be a hero for fucks sake, I am not unhealthy. But, a small part of me still believed that.

I made it to the dorms and sat down on the porch steps, sobbing.

I kept crying until I heard the front door open, I wiped my tears as quickly as I could. I looked up and saw Bakugou standing there, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Can you cry any louder?" He said before sitting next to me, sighing.

I chuckled humourlessly, wiping my eyes. "Sorry."

He looked at me curiously, "What no 'fuck off'?"

I shook my head, "Not in the mood to fight tonight Bakugou."

He stayed quiet for a bit before, "Does this have something to do with your date?"

I looked over at him for a minute. "Do you really wanna hear about it?"

He nodded, serious. Weird.

"Well, the guy was obviously expecting someone who looked very different from me." My throat caught and I breathed evenly. "He barely spoke and kept just...glancing. I ordered a burger and he was all like 'really?' You know? Insinuating I should eat a salad or something."

Bakugou scoffed, his face contoured in familiar anger.

"I ignored it and carried the conversation. At the end, I said thank you and you know what he said?"

I looked over at Bakugou, tears in my eyes. He inclined his head. I looked away.

"He said, 'next time you should warn your dates your fat'. Like the way I am and the way I look should come with a warning label...its not like I hide it, all my pictures you can see I'm big."

We stayed quiet for a while and I silently cried.

"Y/N..." Bakugou began and I looked over. He didn't look angry now, he looked murderous. "I hope you know you deserve a lot better than that asshole."

I began to speak and he cut off me off. "Just because your big doesn't mean your unattractive. If anything, you're even more attractive for it."

I stayed silent, taking it all in. It was strange, hearing Bakugou be so nice to me.

"You've always been beautiful, even when we were kids. Don't let one asshole make you this upset."

My stomach clenched as he spoke, taking in his words. Oh my god. I couldn't believe it.

I looked at him, my mouth parted slightly. "You mean it?"

He looked forward, refusing to meet my eyes but nodded.

I grinned, leant forward and kissed his cheek lightly. He tensed up but I stood up before he could say anything. He looked up at me, a slight pink to his cheeks that made my stomach erupt with butterflies.

"You're beautiful too, Katsuki." I said and then quickly escaped back into the dorms.

The look on his face, rosey cheeks and lips parted made me burst with hope. Maybe, just maybe, my crush on him is reciprocated.

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this! As a big girl myself I love writing this kind of thing, send in your requests!

#katsuki bakugou #fluff #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #mha self insert #mha #bakugou x fem!reader #bakugou x reader #mha x chubby reader #chubby reader #bakugou x chubby!reader

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luveline · 10 months

Note

steve zombie!au…. maybe in this new camp the reader is placed to do the scouting for supplies/ protecting the camp while steve is the one that has to stay in the camp and starts worrying over her a lot? love your writing jade 🫶🏼

thanks gorgeous! —you and steve settle into your new jobs. he worries, you dote. fem!reader, 1.3k

You watch in mild frustration as another firework shoots up into the air and pops. It doesn't break the treeline, but it's loud.

"Should we really be doing this?" Joyce asks.

Hopper grunts in annoyance and begins a spiel you've had the misfortune of hearing twice already this morning. The fireworks are going to be an alarm, a code in case another undefeatable foe crosses the proximity line. Newly appointed guard and on duty, if someone were to approach now, it would be you that lights the firework.

You kind of hate your new job. You haven't met the new and elusive leader of the camp you've merged with, but you've met his underling Wendy, and she assigned you a job. You're on guard duty and potential runs, Steve's on childcare, and when he asked if you could switch, she said point blank No.

Steve's less than pleased, though he likes being with the kids.

"What use is a warning if we draw other people?" Joyce asks. Frustration must be in the air.

"Kid," Hopper says. It takes you a good handful of seconds to realise he's talking to you. "You can go. Take the evening off."

"Are you sure? Wendy's kinda stern."

"I can deal with Wendy."

You pat the pommel of your sword and nod, starting back through the trees toward camp. Hopper's more than capable of looking after himself despite the argument that awakens as soon as you're far enough away.

Walking back into camp makes you feel weird. More than half the people you see are strangers, cleaner, happier than anybody from The College, though they're starting to merge. You weave between a procession of runners back with a literal wheelbarrow of cans from the grocery store a half a mile east from here. They spray painted on the windows that the place was full of geeks months ago and it remains untouched. Sneaky trick, but one you can appreciate if it keeps all the kids alive.

You can hear them as you approach one of the portables. They aren't truly portable buildings; if you ever wanted to move further into Michigan, they'd stay behind. But they have walls and ceilings and it makes the world feel a little less alien for the kids, who mostly grew up for the last year, nearly two, in The College.

You put your sword against the side of the wall and run up the silver metal steps to ease the door open.

Steve's sitting at the back of the room with four other adults, a little girl in his lap, her head on his chest. She can't be older than five.

At the front of the room sits Sarah, reading from a big storybook. There are no lights on, but she has a torch with different coloured crepe papers taped to the front, and she shines them when different emotions come into the story. Right now, the story is sad, and a light blue light kisses the cheeks of the children in the front row.

They barely notice your arrival. Steve, however, heaves a visible sigh of relief, the arm he's wrapped genially over the little girl's back moving up incrementally at the sight of you.

"Hello," you whisper, sitting down next to him quietly.

"Hi," the little girl whispers.

"Hi," you say back. She isn't one of The College kids, you'd know her face. "Who are you, honey?"

"I'm Mabel."

"Hi Mabel, I'm Y/N."

"Y/N's my girlfriend," Steve whispers, grabbing your hand for a squeeze. You squeeze back.

Mabel looks up at Steve with a smile. "Do you kiss?" Mabel asks.

You laugh, startled, and half the kids turn their heads to see what's so funny. Steve shushes you like a proper teacher, finger over his lips until they all turn back to their story.

"We do sometimes to say hello," Steve whispers, quieter than before. "Why?"

"My boyfriend is a bad kisser," she says.

You tamp down a smile badly, amusement colouring your words, "Honey, I think you should stick to holding hands."

"I think so," she agrees.

Steve pats her shoulder to show his agreement. She cuddles in and turns her attention back to the story. Steve meets your eyes over her head and you both laugh with closed mouths, hot breaths pushed out of your noses.

When the story's finished and the room is too dark to stay any longer, Jonathan arrives to cart off his boat load of fostered brethren, as do the other adults. It's nice to see how many of them accept children who aren't theirs with open arms. Steve carries Mabel until the very last second when Julie, Mabel's older sister, comes to collect her.

"Did you know she has a boyfriend?" Steve asks Julie.

"Is that what she said?" Julie asks fondly, tapping Mabel on the tip of her nose. "You're silly. No boyfriends until you're ten, at least."

Mabel blushes and hides her face.

"Will she forgive you?" you ask Steve as they leave.

He hugs you close, suddenly. At the doorway of the portable with the other 'teachers' still inside cleaning up the kids' mess, you aren't expecting him to be outwardly affectionate.

"I'm her favourite, she'll forget by tomorrow." Steve hugs you tighter still, prompting you to hug back. He groans as soon as you do, as though your touch is a great relief.

"Is everything okay?" you ask.

"I worry about you when you're gone."

"I know, but it's no different than yesterday. They didn't even need me, that's why Hopper sent me back. It's not dangerous."

"It's obviously dangerous." Steve's cheek pushes against the side of your head, almost nuzzling you. "It's the best part of my day when you come back to me."

You feel heat rise to your face, a hot flush of embarrassment that licking over every inch of skin. "Steve," you mumble.

He squeezes your waist and has you take his weight on your chest, bending you backward. "I love you."

"I love you too," you utter.

Steve pulls away from you, something sweet and soft in the set of his mocha brown eyes. "I know. I think that's why I freak out so much."

"You'd miss being adored," you tease.

"By you, yeah." He gives you a long look. You know before he's moved even a millimetre that he's going to give you another thankful hug, lips at your ear as he confesses, "I'd miss you more than anything."

You hug him back with your own relief —you've loved Steve for a very, very long time. It's an unexplainable feeling to know he loves you back, and fiercely. Somewhere in the past is a girl laying in his lap in the woodland bordering an endless intersection highway, wishing he'd want you back. You can't tell her that everything will be okay, that you'll get through it safe and sound, but you could at least tell her that there's something worth living for at the end of the seemingly insurmountable. Someone who worries about you when you're less than 100 yards away.

"You worry too much," you say, pushing his chest gently to separate your hug. You look him straight in the eye. "We're good at finding each other again. And I'm not going anywhere in the first place."

Steve exhales slowly. "Good. I hate when you go places."

"Me too. Let's stay here forever."

You both know it's an impossible thing, but the hypothetical is nice. You can see the weight of the worry Steve carries on his shoulders, worry in his eyes, but he's carrying a lot of love too. You wish it wasn't all so heavy.

#steve zombie!au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

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berry-club · 4 months

Text

- Muse -

Minors dni

Inspired by the manga "Museru Kurai no Ai o ageru"

Contains: reader x sungchan, college romance, afab reader, thigh job, virgin reader, 2.5k words

It's a new month, and as usual it's time to change the paintings exposed at the entrance of the college building. You take your painting off the wall before going into the art studio. You put it on the easel and prepare some white paint to start fresh before painting something new over it. When suddenly you hear the door open abruptly making you turn your head towards it. You see a man looking at you with his eyesbrows frowned.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

"Hum.. who are you?"

"That's not the question. Don't touch that painting."

"Why??"

"I took the habit of looking at it everyday, I got scared when I saw it missing from the entrance, why would you paint over it? That's terrible."

"Well, first of all it's my painting and canvas this big are quit expensive, so I'm trying to re-use it, plus I don't have enough room in my apartment to store it anyway."

"Wait.. does this mean if I bring you a new canvas of the same size I can take it?"

"Sure... I guess"

"Okay I'll bring one tomorrow."

The man takes the painting off the easel and leave the room without even looking back. You stay dumbfounded trying to understand what just happened, what a strange man, why would someone want your painting that bad. You decide to just go home early, not knowing what to do with this change of plan.

The day after, you're in the art studio doing some sketching when you hear the door opening, this time way more gently than the last time. The same man from yesterday is entering with a brand new canvas.

"Hey! I brought it."

"Thank you, you can put it on the easel."

He does as you say before turning around to face you.

"By the way, my name is Sungchan, I'm sorry for yesterday I probably scared you, I didn't think you were the one who did the painting, they were no name on it like the others."

"It's okay don't worry, yeah I wanted to stay anonymous "

"I see..."

The mood becomes awkward, you don't know why he didn't left yet, he starts walking around the room, looking at each details, the decorations on the wall, all the drawings equipment, the few sketches you just did. After taking a good look at the room, he looks at you, being the only last thing he didn't glace at.

"You didn't tell me your name."

"Y/n."

"You know I really like your painting, I usually don't have any sensibility when it comes to art, so it's really precious for me."

"I appreciate that, thank you."

"Y/n, I have a request. Can I come here again to see you work?"

"...I mean, this studio is open to anyone, I can't really forbid you from coming... there is nothing interesting to see tho."

"I'm really interested by the creative process, and I'm curious to learn more about the person who did the painting."

"You're just going to be disappointed by both."

"I'm sure not."

Sungchan smiles and head himself to the door before waving you good bye and leaving the room.

Well of course, all compliments about your art warms your heart but, what you love about this studio is that barely anyone comes, you were often with yourself. Having trouble socializing, this was a room for you to get some peace. You start thinking that maybe, you should have just say "no" to him, but you didn't really had the time to think that much.

After that day, Sungchan came almost every afternoon. Asking you a lot of questions about your work, he seemed always very interested by your explanations, looking at everything you did. It sure was awkward for you at the beginning, but as the weeks passed, you became really comfortable around him, sometimes even teasing each other. You two became really close. At one point, you realised you had feelings for him, but you quickly pushed them aside, remembering you were only seeing him in the studio. Everytime you saw Sungchan left the room, it was like he was going to another world, and he suddenly felt so far away. He had his own group of friends, sometimes you saw him in the hallway with them, but you both took the habit of ignoring eachother, only talking in the studio. It didn't really bother you, thinking that he probably had his own reasons, and you didn't try to talk to him outside the studio either.

One time in the studio, Sungchan was here and as usual, he looked at you drawing, but this time that was different, normally he was looking at your hands, the movement you made or how you were holding the pencils and the brushes. But this time, he was straight up staring at your face. You were thinking about something to say, and before you could open your mouth:

"You know, you're even more captivating than your art."

You sigh, thinking that he was probably just teasing you. "What are you saying? Stop messing with me."

"Messing with you? I'm just saying what I'm thinking."

You look away and your hand stops. Silence fill the room. You know you probably should just thank him and move on, but something about what he said really made an impact on you. Sungchan puts his hand over yours, making you look at him. A beam of sunlight was going over his face, making his skin golden. His eyes, usually a deep brown, were now the color of amber, making him the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.

"Why did you stop drawing?"

His voice makes you regain consciousness, you feel your heart beating loudly in your chest, you put your eyes back in the paper thinking that if you saw him 1 more seconde, you wouldn't be able to stop the wave of feelings inside of you.

"Sorry, I have to go home."

You quickly pack your stuff and leave the room without even saying goodbye, you think you heard sungchan say something but you are so overwhelmed, the only thing in your mind right now I how you want to go as far away from him as possible.

The day after, you spend your time collecting your emotions to be able to meet him like normal when he comes back. Almost a week passes and sungchan didn't came at all, you were thinking that he finally got tired of you, maybe now you were going to live your life like you did before meeting him, you let out a long sigh, when suddenly you see him push the door. He starts speaking to you like he always did and you feel so relieved you could almost cry, then after spending some time together he says,

"Do you wanna come to my place? I have something I want to show you."

"Unh? You want to see me outside the studio?"

"Yeah? Why wouldn't I?"

"Well you ignore me everytime we see eachother in the hallway. So I though-"

"It's not like that! Everytime we see each other i'm with friends, I know you're not comfortable talking to people so I thought it was better to talk to you when we are only together."

"Oh..I see, thank you."

"Soooo, are you coming? It's really important."

His puppy eyes begging you to say "yes", you have no other choice than to agree. You leave the room together, and you follow him to his apartment near the college building. Just a few steps in his apartment and you end up in front of the painting that he took when you first met him, exposed on the wall with nothing else around it that could distract you, a light over it illuminating the canvas. You can't help but smile wide seeing that, your art being exposed in his apartment like it was the most precious thing in the world. You never thought the day would come where you could see your work being treated with such care.

Sungchan sees you and jokes around, "Oh you like it? It's by my favorite artist."

You chuckle and follow him to the living room where he makes you sit on the couch. You can see him fidgeting in front of you.

"You want something to drink?"

"No thanks, i'm good."

"Are you hungry maybe?"

"I'm fine."

"Are you cold? Do you want me to turn on the heater?"

"Sungchan. Everything is perfect, show me the thing you wanted me to see."

"Sorry... I'm a little nervous.. it's here follow me."

Sungchan tilt his head and you follow him to a door. He looks hesitant for a second and push it. The room is filled with art stuff, some sheets on the ground to prevent paint from falling on the wooden floor. You see a stool in the corner of the room in front of an easel, with a canvas covered with a white sheet. Without a word, Sungchan gets closer to the easel and slowly removes the sheet. The feeling you got seeing this painting was indescribable, like it was suddenly the only thing on earth, your eyes got lost in it, every brush stroke looked intentional, meticulously placed. Sungchan's voice takes you out of your bubble.

"What do you think? I'm sorry for not coming to the studio the past few days, I've been coming home early to work on it."

"That's... amazing"

"No.. you are amazing, you were my inspiration for it."

"Me?" You look at him, puzzled.

"Yes, I guess you're what you call a muse."

Sungchan smiles at you, you never thought a day would come where you could be a muse, no matter where you went you were always the artist. You put your eyes back on the painting, thinking that the deep connection you had with it made sense now, when suddenly you feel a hand in your cheek, making you turn your face towards sungchan, he looks straight into your eyes, slowly caressing your cheek before puting his tumb over your lips.

"But no matter how hard I try, even in a thousand years, I could never make a painting half as pretty as you."

He slowly leans over you and his lips touch yours, you kiss him back putting your hand on his cheek, you feel like you can finaly set free all the feelings that was building for him inside of you. You lose yourself in his arms and your kisses become deeper and more passionate. Sungchan takes a step back from you and stares at your face before taking your hand and bringing you the his bedroom. You sit on the bed and he starts kissing your neck, slowly going to your ears, while sliding his hand under your shirt to touch your breast over your bra. He makes you lay on the bed and raises your shirt to your neck before putting kisses all over your belly. He puts his hands on your pants, removing the button and unzipping them. Making them slide down on your legs and fall on the floor. He raises one of your legs and puts your calf over his shoulder before kissing the inside of your thigh. Sungchan doesn't lose a single seconde, going everywhere, like he didn’t know which part of your body he wanted the most, you suddenly realise how ambarrassed you're feeling.

"Sungchan... It's akward being the only one undressed."

"Oh right, sorry."

Sungchan removes his clothes and stays in his underwear before helping you completely remove your shirt and your bra. He caresses your stomach before slowly going over your cunt, sliding his longs fingers against the fabric. You grab the sheet, trying not to go completely crazy over his touch already. He slides your panty to the side and immediately goes to your clit with his ring and middle finger, you moan at the stimulation.

"Even the sounds you make are pretty."

Sungchan removes your undies before going in with his tongue, going all over your folds with more attention to the clit. Making you curl on the bed, you put your hand on his head making his tongue go even deeper and rougher on you, his thick tongue stimulating all the right places, going in and out your hole, his soft lips sucking on your clit making all kind of dirty noises and you can feel yourself about to finish, sungchan grabs you by the waist, making sure you don't get away from him while you cum on his face, he keeps licking you while your hips go crazy. Your hand grabbing his hair so hard you're pretty sure you're hurting him.

He releases you from his grip, and you can finally catch your breath, sungchan stands up and removes his hard dick from his underwear. You suddenly realise what's about to happen. You had a lot of first times with sungchan today, but you're not sure you can handle that yet. You close your eyes shut, and your body starts shaking thinking about the pain you're about to feel, when sungchan leans over you and gently puts his lips on your forehead.

"Don't worry so much, I won't put it in."

He grabs your ankles, close your legs before raising them, put his warm cock between your thighs and starts going back and forth. Your pussy was still throbbing from earlier and the movements of his warm dick against it was sending you to heaven.

"Ugh, why does it feel so good."

Sungchan smiles, happy that you feel the same way as him, he starts going faster. The sound of your skins hitting against each other and the vision of sungchan's sweating with his mouth half opened while panting loudly is starting to drive you insane. You watch his dick quickly appear and disappear in your tighs, like your legs were eating him. Sungchan groans and you can feel his dick twitching against your pussy, his cock hitting your clit at every move. He removes himself from you, letting your legs slowly fall on the bed and gives himself a few strokes to cum on his own dick while breathing heavily, you start calming down again while he whipes himself and puts his underwear back. He gently brings a blanket to your neck and goes under the sheets next to you. He makes you go on your side so he can hug you tightly, putting his face in the crook of your neck. You stay like that for a moment, none of you daring to move the slightest, almost trying to merge your bodies together.

He whispers in your ear: "You know, when I explained to you why I was ignoring you in the hallways, it wasn't entirely true.. I didn't want to bring any attention to you because I was scared that if someone was looking at you for too long, they would fall in love with you too. I wanted you to be my secret."

"Sungchan.."

You tighten the hug and put your hands through his hair, trying to convey your feelings for him, making him understand that he's the only one in your eyes.

Sungchan distant himself from your neck to look at your face. He slowly tucks your hair behind your ear and smiles.

"I should have asked sooner but, will you go out with me?"

"Do you really have to ask?"

You smile at Sungchan while looking at him in the eyes, sure that right now, no one loves someone as much as you love him.

#riize imagines #riize x reader #riize #riize smut #fanfic #fanfiction #kpop imagines #smut #sungchan #sungchan x reader #sungchan imagines #sungchan fanfic

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optimisticstudentangel · 1 year

Text

Side characters and how they sleep next to you

No warning. gender neutral reader.

Summary: dateables’ sleeping positions, their bed headcanons, how it feels like sharing a bed with them

Diavolo

First of all, lets pay our attention on the royal bed. The size of the bed is big, there can lay multiple people, and there would be enough space to fit several more. So you sure can get comfortable, and not worry about any gap. It’s also cozy, feels like your body is on the cloud.

Want it or not but Diavolo is the big spoon. When he is deep in his sleep, he would uncontrollably shift next to you, and wrap his hands around you. You cannot escape his tight hugs, it even makes your body sore the next day.

When the future prince sleeps alone, he lies on his back, but when you sleep together, he lies on his side, pulling you closer to his chest. This way you doze off listening to his pulse.

Diavolo snores… But ignoring that fact, sleeping next to him is not bad. Before you two ready yourselves to bed, you always make time to just overall talk about your day. Both of you also tell how you love each other before nodding off, because sometimes Diavolo’s free time is too limited. And bedtime is the only moments you can share some quality, uninterrupted time.

Barbatos

To your surprise he, in fact has a bed. Barbatos just rarely uses it. Well, it’s time to fix it, you say to yourself.

His bed is plain and ordinary. Nothing much interesting going on there. It’s a little small, but two people can share it nevertheless.

Things are a little unusual with this demon. First of all, you need to catch a convenient time for a planned sleep with him. That might be troublesome, but let’s skip that part. If you insist good enough, he may reschedule everything, to find some time for rest.

He always sleeps on his back. Always. For this reason, you wrap your hands around Barbatos’ arm and snuggle up to him. The butler either holds you by the waist or strokes your head with a comfortable hand.

During sleep, the demon does not make a sound. Sometimes you question yourself does he even sleeps?

Luke

Luke’s bed is very comfy, it also has some stuffed toys. Some of them were your gifts. He sleeps with all of them, not leaving out any of the plush animals.

Little angel sleeps in a fetal position, it’s so cute seeing him all curled up. Usually both of you sleep together on a sleepover. He also asks for your help to build a house made of pillows and blankets. Then you try to sleep in that little space, but it’s not very cozy, in the end both of you decide to sleep normally.

Because you are older, you need to remind Luke of his night routine. He is not forgetful though! At least that’s what he is sure about.

While both of you are napping, you unconsciously hug the angel. He is very soft and small. It’s very pleasant sleeping next to him.

Simeon

Simeon’s bed is soft, once you lay there, it’s hard to make yourself stay awake. It has many blankets and pillows. This is why his bed gives you an impression of some kind of nest. Lights in his room are dim, you like it. It’s easier to fall asleep, because of relaxing atmosphere.

He is a side sleeper, he rests in a yearner position. Its comfy for the both of you, his arms may remain under your body, and that’s enough for you to feel secure all night. Sharing a bed with Simeon is heavenly experience. His presence puts you at ease, and you get balanced nap.

Maybe because he is an angel, or his powers, but you wake up refreshed. It’s like throughout the night you were healed. And if you had headaches or felt unwell, after night it magically passed.

Also sleeping next to him gives me a vibe of a mother bear, who shelters you from any danger.

Solomon

Solomon has a bed and sofa in his room. Why do I mention that? It’s because this man often spends the night (hopefully sleeping) on his sofa. He is a night owl, and all the inspiration about new spells comes to him at night. He ignores his sleep time, to experiment on new spells.

Isn’t that unhealthy. You are worried about your fellow human, yeah, he is immortal, but he is still a human being.

His bed is average, in a lot of times there are scraps of paper on the bed, it is clear that they were written in haste. Usually Solomon does so as not to forget some new discovery about his magic research.

Solomon sleeps on his stomach or in a starfish position, there is no in between. He accidently takes all the space, so this may be a little problem. In addition, Solomon is one of those people who lie on his partner during sleep. His leg may end up on you and you'll have to put up with it.

Be sure if you go to sleep with Solomon, there is no way back, he will not let you go and will hold you tight.

#not me calling out solomon but sleeping way worth than him #simeon cult #obey me #obey me fanfic #obey me scenarios #diavolo x you #barbatos x you #simeon x mc #solomon x you #obey me luke

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some-of-us-watch-the-sunset-too · 1 year

Note

Can you do hcs of a very strong SO picking the guys up? I just feel like they would have either hilarious or sweet reactions

(Especially for Steve, I love him the most)

A/N: This is so bad omg. I kinda went a bit off topic here, it’s still a strong S/O, i just didn’t include them picking the boys up for a few of them. Also i realise now that i made them out to be really weak? let’s be honest they’re not, but it makes it more fun to write!

The Outsiders x Strong S/O

———————————————————

Darry

Dar’s strong too so the first thing that came into my mind was competitions to see who was the strongest. like- a big wooden board, then you have Pony and Soda sit on it, whoever struggles the least is the winner

If you beat him in an arm wrestle or one of those strength tests? i hate to break it to ya, but it’s gonna upset him a little bit, he likes to prove how strong he is and likes being the strong one

On the other hand, you two would be unstoppable in a rumble. you’d take on the biggest guys there and let’s be honest you’d probably have some combo move or something.

He gets you to help move furniture all the time, i dunno why, he just does.

Ponyboy

Let’s be honest, the guys weak as fuck. it doesn’t take much to be stronger than him.

He loves it if you give him a piggyback or something, why walk when you have a helpful S/O to carry you everywhere? it makes him feel important.

He asks you to carry stuff for him. He’d probably start whining that his arms are tired or something. He does it for a joke but if it actually upsets you he’d cut it out.

He asks you to help him build up some muscle, given his tactic in rumbles is to just jump on someone’s shoulders and pull their hair while someone else does the actual punching/kicking

Sodapop

He is forever in awe of your strength, he asks you on the regular to help him get a bit stronger but gives up after about 10 minutes because he’s tired

if you picked him up? this boy would be on top of the world. Bonus points if you’re tall too. he’d probably stand on your shoulders or something and literally shout “I’m on top of the world! Bow down to me!”

If he needs to carry a bag of coal or a sack of potatoes in or out of the DX you’re the first person he calls, then he’d call you his hero and pretend to faint into your arms while saying how tiring it was to carry the stuff himself.

He will try to pick you up or beat you in strength in some way, but he’s just not strong enough :(

Dallas

Honestly? I think it would intimidate him if his S/O was stronger than him. he’s the strong one, there’s no room for another strong person

If you picked him up he’d throw a hissy fit like a toddler, he’d probably secretly enjoy it, but he’d never admit it.

Rumbles are amazing with you two. You beat the guy up a little and then pass him off to Dally to finish the job. it just helps his ego alright?

The one advantage to having a strong S/O in his eyes? if he’s in a fight and he’s having a bit of trouble you can give him a hand, maybe sometimes even scare off the other guy become a punch is even thrown.

Steve

He challenges you to at least two arm wrestles a day, he’s pretty strong so he does put up a fight. in the end you always win though.

You two also have combo moves reserved for rumbles, you’re both fighting your own guys then you swap or something since you’re bored of beating the shit out of the one guy.

He’d never ask you too, it’d hurt his ego to ask. but if you offered to help out with stuff in the DX? just simple things like carrying tyres around or something like that, he’d fall even more in love with you <3

You two work out together every morning and help to keep each other motivated when you really don’t want to keep going.

Two-Bit

I honestly think that Two is pretty strong but i also think he’d pretend to be weak just because he loves the attention it gets him 🤷‍♂️

You’re his bodyguard. if you’re together when you meet a new hood somewhere and he feels intimidated, he’ll just say something like “Oh yeah? Well i got a secret weapon!” and push you out in front of him.

He loves your hugs. Big bear hugs that if you squeezed him for much longer than you do he thinks he’d probably suffocate. Something about them are just so comforting for him.

Same thing as Pony, he loves when you pick him up, makes him feel special.

Johnny

I’m gonna be honest i’m a bit stumped when it comes to johnny? I think he’d basically be like ponyboy?

He might ask you to help him move old car seats into the vacant lot to make it a bit more comfy from time to time.

If you pick him up he’d just be kinda like “ok this is my life now” yk? he wouldn’t really pass any remarks on it.

#the outsiders #the outsiders x strong s/o #ponyboy curtis #dallas winston #darry curtis #sodapop curtis #johnny cade #steve randle #two-bit mathews #dallas winston x reader #ponyboy x reader #sodapop x reader #darry x reader #johnny cade x reader #steve x reader #two bit x reader #the outsiders x reader #the outsiders x yn #is this too many tags?

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husbandhoshi · 9 months

Note

Congrats on 3k!! You deserve it sooo much💌

If you have the time (and only if you have the time!) I would like to request a sort of a short bullet point fic. Or more so just your thoughts on the following: moving in with seventeen. Who is the one that labels every box? Who will live out of moving boxes for the next year. And yeah, just overall the vibes of new beginnings and promises😶‍🌫️

Pls only do write something if any of this inspires anything, if not pls don't feel burdened to write anyway!

I love your writing, so once again: congrats on the succes💗

seungcheol thinks it's one huge adventure. yes, he will be the person lifting the stupidly heavy boxes at the store. yes, he will make it a competition to build furniture as fast as possible (and race to take it all apart when you discover the desk legs are all different lengths because someone thought he could figure it out without the manual). even among the graveyard of boxes and bubble wrap and those huge styrofoam slabs he keeps chasing you with, seungcheol is happiest to lay with you on your bare, naked mattress (because he forgot to order sheets). he's planning what pictures of the two of you he wants to put on the walls. this is the first time he's owned a welcome mat and he's not even mad about it. it's all yours, together, and there's no bigger adventure than that.

his walk-in closet. bowls the perfect size for a portion of ramen, plus an egg. the lego taj mahal with two pieces missing that he insists will turn up sometime. these are some of the things jeonghan's not sure he can bring to your new apartment. it's not that he doesn't want to move in with you--he just doesn't know if he can. hell, you kissed him for the first time on the tiny futon in his living room, and he just learned it's too small for your new place. it's not until he watches you, later that day, play jenga with the toiletries on his bathroom counter because there's never been enough space for the two of you, that he realizes maybe it isn't such a bad thing to try something new. he imagines leaning you against a new sink, with that carrara marble you've been talking about, and he might even say he's looking forward to it.

you don't think there's a day you haven't seen joshua on zillow. look at my pinterest board, he'd say, and you wouldn't have it in you to ask how the hell you're affording that couch or if you really need a salt lamp that badly. you've lost count of the times your thursday nights consisted of a: your favorite chinese takeout and b: watching celebrity architectural digest videos. but joshua can't help it--to him, there's really nothing that would make him happier than waking up next to you in a bed you picked together. now if it was a midcentury modern canopy bed? even better. he can't wait to use his fancy little espresso machine to make your morning latte and grab your coat from the rack you got from that shop in LA before he kisses you before you head off to work. but they're all just things (pretty, shiny ones, albeit)--more ways he can show you the love you deserve.

junhui loves a good open house. early on in your relationship, you would dress to the nines before pretending to shop for a mansion you could never afford. junhui would comment on the door handles and the crown molding like he was a property brother, and then you'd finish the night off making out in the mcdonald's drive-thru. things are a little different now that you actually can afford a home. what if you end up not liking it? will you get tired of the wallpaper? will the closet be big enough? but surprisingly, none of this seems to matter when you walk into the house. (what's on your mind? you ask him. n-nothing, he says.) but he's really thinking about feeding you in that kitchen and spending the morning looking out those bay windows. how beautiful you'll look greeting him from that front door. needless to say, he's sold.

you find soonyoung hiding in the kitchen at your housewarming party. just an hour earlier, he was dumping cans of sparkling water in the jungle juice to make it more "adult" (as if it would erase the fact that an entire bottle of everclear had already disappeared into the mix). the hour before that, he was cleaning like a madman despite there not being much to clean yet. he held the duster the wrong way and you think he got more windex on the ceiling than on the windows. darling, what's wrong? you ask. his little, drunken hands wrap around yours so he can bring them to his cheeks. i just realized this is all ours. like, all of it, he wails, teary, and you realize he is far too many drinks down. it's only after you've sent him to bed with a water and a kiss that you really think about what he said. the hardwood floors, the duvet, the misshapen tiger plushie on the couch, him--all ours.

wonwoo is not an easy person to live with. the first three things he unpacked were, in order, his table, his first monitor, then his second monitor. then he ruined your perfectly curated aesthetic with his neon red keyboard and a gaming chair that would make any interior designer cry. the final straw is when wonwoo manages to kill the one and only houseplant you have, the single thing holding your home decor together. but he's trying, he really is. he's bought a silly little throw blanket for your couch (aren't the tassels fun? he says, wiggling the fabric between his hands). his ugly lamp has been replaced by a strange glowing cat light and there's a sticker on his computer tower. he buys a succulent and you have a little naming ceremony in your kitchen. and it lives, against all odds!

jihoon doesn't know the difference between a chaise and a sectional. cherry and mahogany look the same to him. and god forbid you ask him to choose between terrazzo and subway tile because he really thinks both of them look good and, no, he's not just saying that to make your life harder. jihoon isn't good at the hgtv stuff, but he's happy to move all the boxes. it's only when he's unpacking said boxes that he finally gets it. (the vase that came with the first bouquet of flowers he bought you. the record player you got him for your first anniversary, now fingerprinted, well-loved. matching valentine's day teddy bears, worn and baby pink.) you're standing on a stool stacked on top of another stool trying to hang a poster, and this is what home looks like.

seokmin wants to live in the ikea showrooms. you can't blame him--sometimes, when there's nothing better to do, you'll spend your afternoon in a bedroom that's not yours. seokmin will try on the lumpy blazer from the closet, and you'll beckon him to your sprawling king size bed, the one sat next to the painted on windows and floating shelves. honey, come to dinner, you'd say. he'll peek over your shoulder, arms wrapped around your middle, and you open the lid to a big, steaming pot of nothing. micke or lagkapten? you ask, completely unseriously. but he's thinking about it, really thinking about it. in his mind, he's building a home together, silly furniture piece by piece, counting down to the days when you really can agonize over plants and how many drawers you want in a desk.

when you got the keys to your new place, mingyu insisted you eat jajangmyeon to commemorate move-in day. unfortunately, he failed to account for the series of delays that led to you having absolutely no furniture to move in on said move-in day. but mingyu is nothing if not a man with a plan, so he runs to the store and buys the cheapest assortment of kitchen tools and ingredients for the world's most unlikely dinner. we really don't have to do this, you laugh, the backs of your legs cold on the kitchen counter. but i want to, he insists, holding out a spoon for you to taste. we have to christen the apartment. you eventually do christen it the right way (involving: lots of tongue, even more laughter), but you might prefer, just a tiny bit, the night you sat on the empty kitchen floor and fed mingyu out of a pan.

minghao has rearranged the living room four times now. every time you walk in, it feels like you've entered someone else's house. it doesn't look right, he says, hands on his hips like his life depended on it. you don't know how to tell him they all look right, every single version. in the first version, all cardboard furniture and plastic wrap, you gave up on deciphering the wifi setup and built a fort instead. the second involved an ottoman in the walkway, which you almost immediately stubbed your toe on (and laughed so hard you cried). in the third, the couch faced away from the adjoining room, and you accidentally spooked minghao so badly he almost broke his knitting needles. but it's all perfect, every iteration, because you're doing it together--a hypothesis he's more willing to believe when you shut him up with a kiss.

don't look now, but seungkwan is buying another doodad at your local sunday swap meet. it's a small painted figurine of a bear in a nightcap, which he simply points to and says that's me. you don't have it in you to mention the fact that you're currently unpacking his seemingly never-ending assortment of doodads and you couldn't possibly know where one more would go. it's only when you're getting ready for bed that you catch the little bear in the glow of the alarm clock light. there's already a turtle with a hat in the medicine cabinet (jeju, last summer). on top of the fridge, a woodcarving that says EAT. (tj maxx, 2 years ago. it still makes you laugh). even though you just moved, all these little seungkwan-isms make home a little more home.

you wouldn't call vernon a planner. his version of housewarming is watching you play the sims. but real life doesn't have nearly as much poolside drama or five story houses--just packing peanuts and 50 page appliance manuals. aren't boxes just drawers? vernon asked you one day. no, but that's how it always starts. two weeks after move-in, vernon cooks you breakfast with a pan procured from a cardboard box. by three weeks, you know the exact box everything is in. (you still haven't been able to find vernon's avril lavigne let go album, though.) it's only when you're eating dinner on top of the box that your dining table is in when you say, vernon, baby, i think we need to actually move in. he takes one look at you, who's wearing mismatched socks and his boxers because your shorts are underneath the tv box, and his smile nearly splits his cheeks. yeah, i think so too.

if you had asked chan what his dream house looked like, he would say it had a wraparound porch, a white picket fence, and a pool. your new apartment has none of those things. the length of your bedroom is a little more than one and a half times the length of his body and he's not even that tall. if he looks out the window he can see right into his neighbor's apartment (three cats and no bitches. almost like he's living next to wonwoo). and his feet stick out of the tub. but he's learning how to live in small spaces. he likes the squeeze of your bathroom, how you have to sit on the counter if you want to both brush your teeth together. he likes the bump of your elbows when you wash the dishes together. most of all, he likes falling asleep with you slotted to his side--even in your tiny bed, he wouldn't mind having you a little closer.

#sorry this took forever it got stupidly long #thank you for asking!!!!#ask #anon #mine #seventeen x you #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #svt fluff #svt imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #svt x you #svt x reader #3k celebration

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thenixkat · 1 month

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Mundane AU!Laios thoughts

Note:

Probably contains spoilers

Mundane au= no magic and no fantasy 'races' (like... little people are a thing, they exist in reality, some people just have dwarfism. The elves are just skinny racist and xenophobic Europeans like? And there's already parralells made with the demi humans so if I do anything the orcs are Afro Native and Kobolds are somewhere African or Arab. And for the ogres... gigantism is a thing that exists in real like and totally a teen girl would just wear some horns.)

Thoughts:

The Toudens are European-born. From somewhere cold as hell, really isolated and conservative, that's close to some mountains, that's racist towards the local indigenous people.

(The sibs, but especially Laios got chewed out about some shit and has been trying to be better, slips up every now and then but takes criticism well so long as folks tell him what he did/said wrong).

Local weird kids put off vibes that the rest of the village didn't like, Laios and Falin grew up bullied and ostracized. Falin got sent off to schooling in the big city and later to a university in Italy where she met Marcille.

Laios dropped out of high school and joined the military as soon as he was able to b/c he wanted to get the hell out of dodge. Served for a few shitty years b4 just... deserting and backpacking across Europe just straight up homeless and working whatever odd jobs he could find. Man was going through it. Wound up in the same city where Falin was studying at a university in and decided to visit her. She took one look at him and refused to let him just go back to what he was doing, so Laios started couch surfing with her (very much against dorm rules but he looked terrible and Falin wasn't about to let anyone stop her from making sure her brother has a roof over his head and food).

Eventually, she takes him with her when she does a work-study in the USA for her ecology degree and they ended up staying/Falin kinda maybe sorta dropped out and got a job with a vet near where she was doing her work-study.

Laios and Falin are technically illegal immigrants but they're white so no one really questions their citizenship (their working on getting citizenship/papers)

Laios gets a GED. Does some self-study from Falin's textbooks and online stuff but that's about it for his schooling.

Laios definitely, like, lives in Falin's basement. Falin is the primary breadwinner in this household, Laios is aware of this and has learned to accept it even tho he would like to take care of his baby sister and sometimes feels bad about not being able to. They used to share a room in a cheap apartment but after building up enough savings they managed to buy a suspiciously cheap house in a rural town bordering a reservation and not far from a national park.

Laios still works odd jobs, mostly physical labor and stuff where they won't ask for a degree. Has worked retail, where his customer service was trash but he's darn good at just stocking and shelving shit.

Met Chilchuck while working retail, Chilchuck introduced him to the concept of a union which Laios thinks is really neat.

The town where the Touden's moved has a sizable population of people with dwarfism, Chilchuck is a notable member of the little person community in the area. The Touden's go to Chilchuck for help with paperwork (they pay him a small fee) and he doesn't ask too many questions about why they don't have this or that piece of documentation.

Laios enjoys doing citizen science and bird watching. During the tourist season, he runs a small wilderness guide giving campers and hikers tours in the local national park.

There's a hermit that lives in the national park illegally (Senshi) that Laios and Falin made friends with. They love his cooking.

Laios is active in the online furry community. He does commissions, mostly of digital and physical art or people's fursonas and vore stuff. He does great ferals, and decent anthros, but his human art is not good (he's working on it).

Laios is decidedly chubby in this, his weight goes up and down depending on the season and how much physical activity he's doing. But ever since he reunited with Falin, she's been making sure he doesn't skip meals if they can afford to eat. And ever since he met Senshi he's gotten heftier since he loves that man's cooking.

#nix meows #dungeon meshi #laios touden #mundane au #just a few thoughts

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snickerdoodlles · 11 months

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📚

❤!

so. i have beef with thai university bl's engineering and architect bias. not even about them getting the majors terribly wrong, like whatever movies and shows never get them right anyways, but university majors can tell us so much about a character. is the major something they've always wanted to do, was it picked on a whim, was it picked for their parents, is it a good fit, is it a bad fit, etc etc etc. it can be big insight into the facets of their character (ala the boys from not me) or the things they like and connect over (Kim and Chay from kinnporsche) and more. and while college majors don't have to be like, a big thing or relevant to all characters, if you're in the university genre, you really ought to be thinking about this sort of thing.

which brings me to love in the air: where, ironically, mr. background character Sig gets this development and none of the actual fucking mains do. (lita, i love you, but your writers certainly made choices.) but i'm not here to talk about my beloved Sig, i'm here to talk about my darling Sky.

given that Sky's dorm is absolutely covered in art and he has art reference shirts, i headcanon that Sky actually wanted to be an art major. he loves painting cityscapes and anything with brilliant colors. half his shirts were picked up from museums and event gallerias. but, after Gun and pulling himself back together, the guidance counselor asked one "you want to be an art major? but that's so...risky" and all of Sky's fresh wounds and insecurities slammed into him like a truck and he asked what would be a smarter choice then. the guidance counselor rattled off a list of ""practical"" art-inclined majors and Sky, perhaps drawn to the idea of building something new and lasting, chose architecture.

which! is a pretty good fit for him! he's good at it, he likes his classes, he likes twisting the assignments to fit his own visions. but that's all it is: a good fit he can settle for.

so, the fic proper:

it's third year. Sky's stressed over deadlines and midterms. and Prapai's watching him from the couch, concerned, because he's used to Sky's frantic energy this time of the semester, but this feels...different. but Sky rarely thinks to say things out loud when he's trapped in a storm of negativity, so it's up to Prapai to gently put his hand on Sky's shoulder and ask him what's wrong.

midterms, projects, club paperwork, next weeks' internship interview, Sky thinks. "this isn't FUN anymore," bursts out Sky, then immediately snaps his mouth shut because he did not mean to say that.

and Prapai doesn't let it go. Sky has a model due at 8am tomorrow that's only half-finished, but Prapai pulls him into the other room and gets him a glass of water and they talk. at first, Sky deflects, saying it's just stress, but Prapai hits him with the soulfully worried puppy eyes and next thing Sky knows, he's talking about how he's always loved art and had wanted to be an art major originally, but that's just not the smart thing to do and how architecture is a good place for him, really, he just also sometimes gets caught up in what ifs but really, he's fine. they've been talking for an hour and Sky's model is due in a few hours, but somehow Sky's not even thinking about that as he curls up into Prapai's shoulder and just breathes, feeling lighter than he has in weeks after getting that off his chest.

"so why don't you switch majors?" Prapai asks.

"don't be stupid, i can't do that," Sky retorts automatically.

"why not?" Prapai insists.

"i... but i... you can't... what."

Sky tries to say it'd be smarter if he just finished his current architect degree. Prapai asks why he should force himself through at least another 2.5 years of architecture if he doesn't even want to do it afterwards. Sky blurts out he never said that, then immediately changes the subject to what if he isn't good enough for art. Prapai counters he believes in him and that Sky will grow as he learns more. Sky insists it will take him even longer to graduate and find a job. Prapai says the time will pass anyways.

it's overwhelming. Sky drops the subject and returns to his model, which he only half focuses on. Prapai pulls an all-nighter with him, taking over the actual cutting since Sky's spacing, and encourages Sky to finish his other work. Sky goes to his desk and mostly stares at his assignment. the model gets done but the report doesn't, and when the professor yells at him the next day and asks why he wants to be an architect, Sky just stares at him for a good twenty seconds before going, "i don't." then bows to the professor and walks out.

the transition to an art major isn't fully smooth. Prapai jokes that he'll bribe the entire administration department if he has to to get Sky what he wants and Sky hits him for that, even as he's smiling. the actual switch turns out to be less painful that Sky anticipated (which is a low bar, the switch was growing into a full apocalypse in that boy's head). even his time in university isn't expected to be much longer than he'd originally planned for. it still doesn't take away how nerve-wracking the whole thing is for him because he's very much relying on Prapai to help smooth out any potential bumps. it's all worth it after he takes his first color theory class and feels like he's truly settled in.

sometime later, Prapai's parents have a soiree or dinner party or whatever it is rich people do, which Sky and Prapai also attend (and Sky zones out through the business chatter but delights in being Prapai's arm candy to the jealous), and eventually they wander over to where a small group of people are admiring and praising one of the artworks hanging on the wall. Sky's thinking "ooo art talk instead of business talk," then does a complete double take because that's his art. nearly yanks Prapai's hand off his wrist because what the fuck that's his art people are talking about his art, WHY ARE PEOPLE TALKING ABOUT HIS ART.

"...do you not like it?" Prapai asks, concerned, "i told you that my mom would like it, when i asked if i could give it to her..."

Sky makes a noise not unlike a deflated balloon. "but you! she! you were just being nice!!!!"

Prapai blinks. "my mom's on the board of three art museums, she doesn't bullshit when she says she likes your art."

Sky makes another deflated balloon sound. Prapai gently spirits him away to a private room and Sky Stares at him, confused.

"but i'm... i don't... i haven't grown that much, i'm still learning, i'm not that good..." Sky squeezes his hands, and asks in a very small voice, "they like it?"

Prapai gently squeezes back. "Sky... the person who said your art isn't good"--(they both scowl here, they don't need to say his name out loud to know who Prapai's referring to)--"maybe they said your art was bad not because it was true, but just because it would hurt."

(Sky's face scrunches at that. Prapai holds him as he turns those words over in his mind.)

"do you want to tell them that you're the artist? we don't have to if you don't want to, we can keep it anonymous if you'd prefer."

if takes Sky a minute before he nods and says he wants to tell people it's his work. then Prapai takes him back out and after a few moments of shyness, Sky comes out of his shell and Prapai delights in being his arm candy for the rest of the night.

[[ ask me about fic im not writing ]]

#love in the air #ask game: fics im not writing #okay but seriously can u imagine sky in a client meeting as an architect #client makes a stupid-ass request and sky's face twists into bitchy obstinacy #designing buildings? yes #CLIENTS? no #the cookie and tortoise joint lita headcanon universe #because we need that tag too now 😂

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iamthecomet · 1 year

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mommet- i uh i need your input

would you agree that rain is a cum slut? the he would beg for anyone’s cum? everyone, fuck even all of them at the same time? he wouldn’t care how many times he’s been made to cum, nono he isn’t finished until he’s full and fucked out, right?

this is definitely me begging for a cumslut rain ficlet:)

Rosey. ROSEY.

Of course, Rain is a cumslut.

I have evidence under the cut.

Rain isn't usually this insatiable. Most of the time he's like any self-respecting ghoul, cumming once or maybe twice in a good session and then curling up next to his partner, satiated and blissful. But then, there are days like this. He feels the urge building sometime around lunch. It's a dull itch under his skin. Worming into his brain, tugging at some strange base instinct he doesn't care to try to decipher. He knows what it is by now. If he ignores it long enough he'll get snappy, frustrated. He will be hot and uncomfortable and wound so tight he can barely think. And why put himself through that with the solution is an easy one.

He needs to be fucked into the floorboards. He needs to be fucked until he can't think anymore.

He makes it until after dinner. By then he can feel the heat of aggravation digging at his brain stem. He needs it. God he needs it and he hates asking for it.

The begging later is easy, when his brain has gone mushy and soft. But in the beginning? The proposition? It feels impossible. Embarrassing.

Swiss, Aether, and Mountain are all on the couch, not an inch of room to spare between them. So, Dew, naturally, is lounging across them, feet in Aether's lap, head in Swiss'.

The second Rain steps through the door they all look up at him. He swears he can see the second his scent hits them. Dew's eyes go wide. He watches Mountain's pupils dilate. Aether's hands clench on Dew's hip.

Swiss chuckles darkly.

"Oh, Raincloud," Swiss purrs, predatory already. "Do you need something?"

Rain blushes dark. He hates the way his body betrays him. How strong the scent of his arousal is. He's been hard and leaking on and off for most of the day, slick, and hot, and on edge.

The way they're looking at him tells him exactly how bad it is.

"I--" Rain thinks about denying it, god it's embarrassing to be stared at like this. But what good is that going to do? He knows what he needs. He looks at the four of them, all of them watching him with unmasked hunger. "Ruin me."

They're on him in an instant. Dew's the first one to launch himself at him, pressing the hot span of his body against Rain's and dragging him down into a kiss that tastes like tobacco and cinnamon. Mountain presses up against his back, big hands on his waist, to hold him in place while Mountain grinds up against him. He doesn't know which one of them drags him to the ground. He doesn't resist the pull of their hands. And before he knows it, they're all on their knees. Swiss is in front of him, while Dew and Mountain are behind, making quick work of Rain's clothes. Someone shoves Rain forward onto his hands so he's eye to eye with Swiss' tented zipper.

Aether drops into the chair in the corner. Rain looks over at him, a whine building in his chest.

No, he needs all of them. He needs everything they can give him. He reaches out to Aether, eyes widening, something like panic starting to crawl up his throat. Aether pauses undoing his pants. He offers Rain a gentle smile.

"Don't worry, Raincloud. I'll take my turn, I'm just going to get them get you warmed up for me. You know I like to go last."

Rain watches as Aether pulls his cock from the confines of his pants, already half-hard. He strokes it to full hardness and Rain's mouth waters.

"Hey," Swiss snaps, punctuating it with a tap of his cock against Rain's cheek. "Me first."

"Greedy," Dew says from somewhere on Rain's left. Rain just catches the way Swiss grins at Dew before his cock his shoved past Rain's lips and deep into his mouth.

He loses himself in it for a while, the heavy weight of Swiss' cock on his tongue, the blunt head of it pressing into his throat. The salty spice of his precum as it pools in Rain's mouth.

He goes offline so quickly. He'd be embarrassed about that too if he had any functional brain cells left. Instead he misses the moment that Dew and Mountain drag his pants from his legs. He cooperates as they move him, stripping him naked. But he's barely aware of it, focused single-handedly on the task at hand--getting Swiss to cum in his mouth as quickly as possible. Rain isn't always so eager to be used. But there is something about being owned, being used, that turns his usually overactive brain to jelly. He doesn't have to think.

As soon as Dew slides into him to the hilt, rocking him further forward on Swiss' cock, Rain stops thinking about anything except the pleasure. It's a push and pull. Swiss digs his fingers into Rain's curls. Dew presses bruises into his hip. Mountain closes his fist around Rain's slick cock. Everything goes offline. Pleasure sparks fast through his gut.

His first orgasm comes in record time. The twitch and clench of his body set Swiss--and then Dew off in rapid succession. After that, he starts to lose track. Mountain doesn't stop stroking him, his pace slow, almost gentle, but enough to send him hurtling into overstimulation. At some point, everyone switches positions. It's suddenly Swiss' hand jerking him off, and Mountain's cock buried inside of him.

Dew bends down for another kiss, tasting Swiss on his tongue. At some point, somewhere past the third orgasm, Rain starts begging. Swiss is behind him now, jackhammering into him, hitting his prostate with each pinpointed thrust. Aether's still watching, one hand on his balls, the other twisting up around the ruddy head of his cock. Fucking up into his fist in time with Swiss' thrusts. He doesn't register his own words, but he knows what he's asking for. He's asking for all of them to cum inside of him. To coat him with it. To stretch him out. To make him forget his own name. To fuck him senseless. To ruin him. Aether grins at him from his spot in the chair. He releases his grip on his cock, and moves to stand, just as Swiss' rhythm starts to falter, and Dew drags another almost painful orgasm from Rain's overtaxed body. "Don't worry, Raincloud," Aether says. "When I'm done with you, you won't walk right for a week."

#comet writes #ficlet #Rain/Aether/Mountain/Dewdrop/Swiss #Rain/Everyone #Rain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #swiss army ghoul #aether ghoul #mountain ghoul #ghost fan fic #the band ghost fan fiction #ghost fic #ghost fan fiction #nameless ghoul fan fiction #unedited

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ae-azile · 1 month

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Preview of my (currently) untitled ChanBig one-shot

The next few days are a blur. Sometimes Big hears voices around him. Other times, he remembers talking but he can’t remember anything that he said. So in hindsight, he doesn't know if he actually spoke or if it was a dream. He doesn't really know what is happening around him. Sometimes he feels a hand clutching his hand, and sometimes he feels a hand on his head. Occasionally, he hears people speaking in Korean and he has no idea why. But more often than not, he hears someone reading to him in English.

He could swear that it's Twilight. Why is someone reading Twilight? That is…incredibly strange. But it also reminds him of Pa. Pa struggled with learning English. He could speak Mandarin and Khmer easily, but English was harder for him while Big had been soaking it up like a sponge. He had also been an avid reader at the time, just like Pa, so they went to a bookstore to find some books in English to read together. Big can honestly say he did not like Twilight. He couldn't connect with any of the main characters, and he couldn't see the worldwide appeal. But Pa found it easier to read and comprehend than the other books they had gotten that day, so they continued with the series. While Big feels no appreciation for the book, he feels an affection for it that is hard to explain.

Is Pa reading to him? What about Poy? Is she around too? She might have actually liked the books if she had lived long enough to read them.

“Pa?” Big manages to get out. The reciting of the book stops and other words follow, but Big can't make them out. He goes back to sleep.

Or back to whatever he has been doing. He will try to figure this out later, when he's feeling better. Right now, he can barely open his eyes. He sleeps for what feels like thirty minutes or so until feeling awake enough to open his eyes and squint in the dimly lit room.

As he forces himself to sit up, he wishes someone were here. Anyone, really. It's been a weird day. He's definitely in pain, but that makes sense. He got shot. He knows he got shot earlier. Going by the lighting outside, it probably happened yesterday. He doesn't feel like he has been sleeping since yesterday, but that must be the case-”

“Shit, Big!”

Big turns his head and sees Pol rushing over. He's putting a steaming coffee cup down and his hands are hovering over him like he doesn't know what to do before he gently guides them on Big’s shoulders and gently guides him downwards.

“Chan said you might talk and not be lucid, but I didn't expect you to sit up. Fuck. If you hurt yourself more, Chan is going to kill me-”

“What happened?” Big asks. His voice feels hoarse, “How bad is it?”

Pol pauses and slowly lowers himself in the seat next to his bed, “That sounds shockingly lucid. The only other time you talked around me was when I came down to offer Chan dinner. You asked him to take you to an animal shelter so you could adopt a puppy and immediately fell back asleep.”

Big really doesn't believe that happened. Ma never let him get a dog, even after the divorce, and Pa’s apartment building didn't allow them. He doubts Chan would let him have a dog.

“Can I still walk?” Big asks. He probably shouldn't get a dog if he can't walk them.

Pol lets out a breath, “I would assume, even though everyone thought you were a goner for a while. Can you feel your legs?”

Big lifts his head just enough to look down at his legs. When he successfully wiggles his toes, he decides to swing a leg over to stand up. He's fine. He needs to get back to work.

“Stop!” Pol groans, rushing to the other side of the bed to lift Big’s leg back up before placing it on the mattress, “It was serious, man! Arm and Chan couldn't feel your pulse! It was only detected once you got in the ambulance! You have had blood transfusions, multiple surgeries, and an organ removed! You're on bed rest!”

Big finds that he has enough energy to speak again, “So I am on Kim’s team until I'm cleared again?”

“I didn't say light duty. I said bed rest. You are getting a fully paid opportunity to rest and heal. Take advantage of it by doing just that.”

That sounds awful.

“Is Kinn okay?” Big asks, “Porsche?”

Pol meets his eyes and nods his head, “They're both safe, and they’ll both be happy you're awake. Chan has been staying with you the most, but both of them have visited several times so they could sit with you. Both were really upset that this happened. Everyone is. You could have died. You had a lot of people nervous and upset for the last week-”

“I was shot yesterday,” Big informs him. Even that feels like a stretch.

But Pol just raises his eyebrows, walks over to the infirmary suite phone, and picks it up.

“Sorry to bother you, sir. I know Khun Korn has you working on some things. But I figured you would want to know that Big is awake…He's a little confused, but he seems lucid. He has asked about his injuries, his employment status, and about Kinn and Porsche. He is still awake and looking at me, and-”

As Pol cuts himself off, seeming slightly alarmed, Big wishes he could hear the other side of the conversation. Chan is smart and level-headed. He keeps everything and everyone in line. He would give Big straight answers about this. Pol is comforting, but he is also anxious. There is a reason he is assigned to Tankhun. Other than Arm and Pete, he understands Tankhun in a way most of them have barely tried. On top of that, Kinn, Korn, and Chan keep Pol with Tankhun because he is good at comforting and caring for people. While Big can only overhear half of the conversation, that is proven when Pol’s tone softens.

“...It's alright, sir. It was a close call. We didn't expect him to pull through for a while. It’s okay to get emotional over him feeling…Forget I said that, sir. I was referring to myself…Of course…I haven't told the medical staff yet, but I will ring them in…Yes, sir. I will let Big know you are on your way too.”

Big watches silently as Pol hangs up the phone and comes back over to sit in the chair.

“Chan will be down shortly,” Pol says, “He would have been down within a few hours anyway. He's been sleeping on the couch.”

“Why?” Big asks. Chan has a bed in the building. It makes no sense.

But Pol lets out a huff, “You had him scared. He just burst into tears on the phone.”

Big narrows his eyes in suspicion, “He did not.”

“Did too. Heard it myself,” Pol says, “Caught him looking teary a few other times, but this time it was impossible for him to hide, even over the phone. I don't know why he still tried to deny it. It's a valid reason to cry, especially considering you’ve always been his favorite by far.”

Big doesn’t think that's true, although it is far from the first time he has heard the claim. Big being Chan’s favorite has been a running gag that he is more privy to than most are probably aware of, likely because his roommate is the one who tends to the rumor. But that's just Ken. But Ken does the same with the joke of Arm being Tankhun's spa princess. It sounds silly, but Arm has had more spa permission slips granted to him by Tankhun than the other staff have gotten combined. Ken has a tendency to pay attention to that kind of stuff.

“Just try to relax, okay?” Pol says, reaching over to press a button, “Everyone wants you to keep getting better. You are probably in the clear. Let's keep it that way.”

#chanbig #bigchan #chanbig fanfiction #chanbig fic #chanbig fic sneak peek #chanbig oneshot #chan kinnporsche #big kinnporsche #pol KinnPorsche

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officalroyalsofpierreland · 1 year

Note

I’ve been following your story for a while

And I think your recent post has been one of your best! The quality is so great!

And as a supporter I’ve been thinking this for a while, please don’t think I’m being rude- your story has so much potential I think it might be best for you to adapt to the “royal simblr trends” to level it up

So like skin details for your sims would make them look a lot better I think. Also putting more effort into decorating - I know not everyone is skilled at that (I’m definitely bad at it) but you can download good decorated rooms/lots for scenes and customise those

I’ve already noticed your story is not traditional (with themes like polyamory, your sims are also very tatted which is not normal in a traditional monarchy). I assume it’s just what you like which makes your story unique in that sense though some may not appreciate that.

I just (respectfully) feel like you can do so much more with your story if you took time to plan ahead, develop characters and storylines, instead of just making it up as you go. It helps to run things by people you trust and ask for brutal honesty

You don’t have to listen to what I’ve said but I hope you do and I look forward to seeing more of your story!

-from a secret loving fanboy!

Hello Secret Loving Fanboy,

First off, thanks for supporting my story! I really do appreciate that you read and that you feel comfortable enough to give me some critques. However I do want to address some of them.

What are a "royal simblr trends"? as far as I'm concerned, the only trend is to tell your story the way you want to tell it. And I plan on sticking to it.

In terms of skin details, nope. I mean some people like them, some people don't and I'm kinda in the camp that isn't a big fan of them so thanks but no thanks.

About my story being not traditional, YUP. Its not traditional. I believe in my story replicating the world I want to see which includes people loving who they want (by the way, my polyamory throuple was heavily researched based off experience from a friend and fellow simblr so if you don't like it, you can kick rocks). and..yeah my sims are tatted, guess what lots of people like tattoos, they look cool.

The effort in decorating, look...I'm trying to improve my building and decorating skills but sometimes, I can't be bothered. My story is my hobby and I may not be as decorated as some simblrs but I don't think it distracts from my story.

okay and to your last point:

You talking about planning my story, developing my characters and storylines and running things by people is a step too far. Again, this is my hobby so I do it in my free time. I plan some stuff because I have collab partners who like to plan, and I don't plan other things because I have collab partners who are flexible. I personally don't plan as much as possible because you know what, it ruins the fun for me.

Again, this story is my hobby. It's been my hobby since 2020 and I've made amazing friends over the years I've been on simblr but I can stop and start when i want because it's a hobby and I think real fans would understand that. Just sayin.

#anon asks

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this-basic-mage · 2 years

Text

Florence + The Machine Prompt List Part 2

I wrote a Florence + The Machine prompt list about two years ago. Since then, she's put out a new album, and after seeing her on Friday I'm feeling inspired to make another.

I need my golden crown of sorrow

I never knew my killer would be coming from within

I am king

Sometimes I wonder if I should be medicated

I'm on fire, but I'm trying not to show it

I'm always running from something

And for a moment, When I'm dancing, I am free

I just kept spinnin' and I danced myself to death

Never really been alive before

I'm back in town, why don't we go out?

I came for the pleasure, but I stayed, Yes, I stayed for the pain

What a thing to admit

Crying into cereal at midnight

Well, did you miss me?

Make me perfect, make me your fantasy

My montage of lost things

You make me climb, then you shut the gate

I used to see the future and now I see nothin'

Everything I thought I knew has fallen out of view

Heaven is here if you want it

I'll turn your sea to a desert

I couldn't help it, yes, I let it get in

The helpless optimism of spring

I'm not bad, I'm not good

You practice resurrection every night

You're a perfect pearl hung in the sky

A generation soaked in grief

I never thought it would get this far

This somewhat drunken joke

I don't know where to put my love

Am I quiet enough for you yet?

I don't love you, I just love the bomb

And you're so high, you're so high, you had to be an angel

When love became an act of defiance

Hold onto each other

You need a big god

The best of the best and the worst of the worst

Hold me down, I'm so tired now

This is the only thing I've ever had any faith in

You've always been my North Star

It's such a wonderful thing to love

My held breath fills the room with love

I find that happiness is an extremely uneventful subject

At least we had it for a moment

Did I build a ship to wreck?

Let me leave or let me love you

The dog days are over

Sweeter than heaven and harder than hell

No more dreaming like a girl so in love with the wrong world

Tenderest touch leaves the darkest of marks, and the kindest of kisses break the hardest of hearts

Reblog if you want someone to send you one of these prompts, and check out Part 1 here: https://www.tumblr.com/sidhelives/700865391482863616/florence-the-machine-prompt-list

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