#I just wish I could look at or even think of a character. and not. shake. I’m so jittery and for what?

[punkshort]

i know who you are | 9. the end

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Joel leaves overnight for a scouting mission. When he returns, you finally confess your feelings for him.

Chapter Warnings: language, amnesia, slow burn, dry humping, some dead bodies 'n stuff, fluff, feelings, smut (18+ MDNI), piv unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), soft!joel, guns?

WC: 9.1K

Series Masterlist

A/N: Two things. One: I don't have the slightest clue how memory loss works and if what I am about to detail in this chapter is even plausible but if television has taught me anything, nothing is impossible only extremely rare. Two: this is the final chapter and it makes me very sad. I wish I could have thought of more storylines to drag this out but at the end of the day, I feel good about how it all came together and I can't thank quite literally hundreds of you enough for reading this each week. It's kind of insane. So, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU! Also, if anyone wants to toss some one-shot/sequel ideas my way, I am all ears. Much love.

Two Weeks Later

"Joel," you whispered, your head tilted back into the couch cushion while his mouth greedily nipped and sucked at your neck. His hips were grinding lightly against your center and you knew if you didn't stop soon, you would be in trouble. "I think we should slow down."

"Mhmm," he mumbled in agreement, reluctantly pulling his hand from underneath your shirt.

"You're lucky it's still cold enough for me to wear a scarf," you murmured into his hair. He sighed against your neck, finally dragging his mouth away and sat up on the couch while yet another movie went unwatched on the TV.

"Can't seem to get enough of you," he said with a grin, his arm stretching over the back of the sofa. You rolled your eyes dramatically but smiled, pushing yourself up and fixing your shirt before looking at the TV. "Brad Pitt's in this?"

Joel tossed his head back and laughed heartily. "Think he's the main character," he told you, and you scowled at him but he could tell you weren't actually angry.

"Well maybe if you didn't distract me every time we try to watch a damn movie, I would know that."

The past two weeks had been downright perfect. Joel couldn't be any happier. Now that things had changed between you, he craved your touch constantly. Part of him wondered if it was his way of trying to make up for lost time because you weren't wrong: he couldn't keep his hands off you. He had no desire to leave the house or see anybody. All he wanted was to stay holed up with you doing absolutely everything and nothing. He shuddered to think how crazy he would become when you were finally ready to take things further. Tommy will have to drag him by the collar from your bed for his patrol shifts.

"What are you thinking about?" you asked him, leaning into his side and tucking your legs underneath you, only half listening to the movie.

"Patrol," he answered while the tips of his ears burned red from embarrassment, like you caught him doing something he shouldn't be doing. He was perfectly fine waiting as long as it took until you were ready, but it didn't stop him from fantasizing about it. And the fact that he already knew what you felt like, what you sounded like, what made you come undone, worked him up even more.

"How are you feeling about getting back out there?" you asked, tipping your head up to look at him. He didn't seem worried but it was hard to tell sometimes.

"Actually, there was somethin' I wanted to talk to you 'bout," he admitted. "And if you don't want me to do it, I won't. I put you through enough shit as it is-"

"Spit it out, Miller," you said, shifting out from under his arm.

"Now that the snow's melted, I wanna take a couple guys and scout the area for any trace of those raiders," he began, watching your face closely. "I won't go far, but..."

"But?" you pressed, raising an eyebrow.

"But I would be gone overnight. Just one night," he assured you quickly when he saw your face.

"Wouldn't the others have already noticed anything out of the ordinary on patrol?" you asked as anxiety began to squeeze your throat. "I don't understand why you need to go out there."

"'Cause I only trust myself to make sure we're safe," he explained. "If somethin' happened to anyone 'cause I led these assholes to our doorstep, I'd never forgive myself. D'you understand?"

You chewed on your lip and glanced down at your lap as you weighed your options. On one hand, you understood where he was coming from. And if no one else on patrol or guard had yet to see or find anything strange, then Joel would most likely not find anything, either. But on the other hand, just simply leaving Jackson was a risk. And even if Joel didn't find any other raiders, he wouldn't mean he would be safe from whoever or whatever else was out there.

Joel pinched your chin and gently tugged your lip from between your teeth, making you snap out of it.

"Can I go with you?"

Joel's face softened. "No, baby. You don't even remember how to shoot a gun. I can't risk it."

Of course, he was right. "Who would you take?"

He smiled and dropped his hand. "Tommy. Neil. George. Couple others offered, too, but I'm not sure how many we wanna bring. Don't wanna stick out like a sore thumb with ten horses out in the middle of the woods."

You relaxed a bit knowing he would be going with some of Jackson's most seasoned patrolmen.

"Okay," you agreed softly. His face lit up and he leaned forward.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you sighed, looking over at the TV as the credits began to roll. He hooked a finger under your chin and dragged your eyes back onto him.

"Thank you," he whispered before pressing his lips firmly against yours, trying with all his might to pour every ounce of affection and adoration he had for you into the kiss. You giggled against his mouth as he tried to push you onto your back once again, but you playfully shoved his shoulder before breaking the kiss and scooting away.

"We told Ellie we'd meet her and Dina for dinner, remember?"

He groaned as if he were in physical pain and reached out for you but you quickly stood up, wagging a finger at him. He gazed up at you from the couch with his brown eyes all wide and gentle.

"I mean it, thank you. I don't know what I did to deserve you."

You blushed and bit your lip as you slowly walked backwards towards the stairs. "You can make it up to me one day."

Joel's gaze darkened and he dug his fingers into the couch cushion. "Just say the word, baby. Anytime. Anywhere."

You laughed and turned towards the steps. "Come on, we should get ready for dinner."

"In a minute," he said as you disappeared upstairs. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to will his raging hard on away before standing up and following you.

You inhaled deeply, your body heavy with sleep as you struggled to focus on Joel's voice.

"Sweetheart, I'm leavin'."

With a groan, you rolled over and reached out for him blindly, your eyes still not fully adjusted to the beam of light shining in from the hallway.

He smiled and grabbed your hands, wrapping them around his neck. He felt your fingers dig into the back of his neck and shoulders as you feebly attempted to pull him towards you.

You asked him to wake you up before he left for his scouting mission, so he did as you requested but you were so warm and soft and supple under his touch that he was finding it impossible to leave.

Maybe you planned it that way.

"I'll be back late tomorrow. I love you," he whispered, pressing a kiss against your temple, taking an extra moment to savor it. When he pulled away, your fingers tightened around his neck and you lifted your chin, kissing him with an urgency he hadn't expected from your half-awake state.

"Come home to me, Joel," you mumbled, your eyes squinting at him through the darkness. He pulled an arm from around his neck and brought your knuckles to his lips.

"Promise."

It was so hard to leave but he kept reminding himself he was doing it to keep you safe. Regardless of what Tommy thought, something in his gut told him they hadn't seen the last of those raiders. He brought them into the mountains, and he was determined to be the one to finish it.

"I'm still surprised she let you do this," Tommy said a few hours into their travels. George was leading the group while he and Tommy brought up the rear. The forest was silent, save for the birds just beginning to wake in the branches above. After a long, painful winter, it was a relief to hear the first signs of spring.

"What'dya mean let me?" Joel scoffed, but when he locked eyes with Tommy, who was giving him a look that said he saw right through his bullshit, Joel grinned. "Yeah, alright, it took a little work but she understood."

Tommy nodded and went back to paying attention to their surroundings. They were officially in unguarded territory, the nearest patrol route now miles behind them. The trees had yet to fully bloom so it was still rather easy to see through the woods.

"I think you really freaked her out when you left," Tommy said, "she came runnin' to the house that mornin' in a panic. Thought she wouldn't let you leave her sight again after that."

Joel hummed and turned his head so his brother wouldn't see his smile. He didn't want to worry you, but every time he heard something like that, it reminded him how much you cared, even if you couldn't say it just yet.

"So, you two back to normal now or what?" Tommy pried. Joel shot him a look and he shrugged. "We got a long journey here. We can't talk to pass the time?"

"Yeah, mostly back to normal," Joel finally answered, shifting his weight in his saddle. He could already feel his lower back beginning to flare up. "Takin' things slow. Givin' her as much time as she needs."

Tommy nodded, reading between the lines. "Didn't look that slow the other night after dinner," he muttered under his breath, but Joel still heard him.

"She had a couple drinks, is all," he replied with a chuckle. He scratched his chin as he thought back to a few nights prior when you had draped your arms around his shoulders and your face buried against his neck for the better part of thirty minutes. It was late, all of the families had cleared out after dinner, leaving behind the adults to kick back and cut loose a bit. It reminded Joel of a time before the world went to hell. When he and Tommy would go to a bar on a Friday night, the smell of stale beer and cigarettes in the air while the patrons had to shout over a mediocre cover band playing Lynyrd Skynyrd. It was the first time in a long time he felt relaxed and at ease. He watched his brother and wife across the bar steal kisses around conversations with neighbors, grateful for a night out as Ellie had offered to babysit. He had you at his side, sipping whiskey and making a face before you switched to something else.

As the night dragged on, you got a little closer. Then your hand found his knee under the table and you tilted your head into his shoulder, quietly listening to him discuss the plan for the trip with George. He wrapped an arm around your waist but his focus was entirely on George, too concerned with the map he had spread out over the wooden table. George's wife finally came to collect him, telling him she was tired and he was too old to be trying to keep up with the younger men, shot for shot. She wasn't wrong by the way he stood up and stumbled a bit, leading him towards the door, leaving just the two of you at your table. Once you were alone, your arms snaked around his neck and you tugged him to your lips, your tongue greedily licking into his mouth, the heavy taste of whiskey and gin on your combined breath.

"You sure it was just the drinks? You don't think it had anythin' to do with Angie sittin' two tables over?"

Joel's face flushed and he cleared his throat. It shouldn't turn him on but he couldn't help it. He liked it when you were possessive over him.

"Didn't think it wise to ask," was all he said. Tommy chuckled.

The group made decent time. They had a grid in mind and they almost reached their desired destination by sundown. When morning came, the plan was they would make their way back towards Jackson and cover the northeast quadrant of the map.

As they set up camp for the night, deciding to forego a fire since the temperature was comfortable and they didn't want to risk giving away their location, Neil commented that they hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary so far.

"Not that I mind coming out here, Joel," he followed up quickly, "always a good idea to take precautions and all that."

Joel nodded and focused on spreading out his sleeping bag. "I appreciate you all comin'. Not sure if I say it enough, but I'm grateful."

Neil and George exchanged surprised looks at the unexpected appreciation.

They got an early start the next morning, and as the sun rose higher in the sky and more ground was covered, Joel began to wonder if maybe they would make it back to Jackson sooner than he thought. He really hoped they would. Even if it was just one day, he missed you. He hated sleeping without you. He hated waking up and not finding you curled up against him with your head resting on his chest or his arms wrapped about your waist, face buried against the back of your neck.

He was glancing around the forest, wondering what you were doing right at that very moment when he spotted something orange in the distance. His heart rate picked up and he whistled, catching the group's attention. He pointed through the trees and they all silently slid down from their horses. Checking their weapons, they fanned out and slowly made their way towards the scrap of fabric. As they got closer, Joel could see it was a knit cap stuck in a bush, fluttering in the wind. None of the men saw any other signs of life, each of them silently communicating with hand signals they were taught years ago.

Tommy heard shuffling and he held up his hand, bringing the group to an immediate stop. From his angle, Joel could see that the bush with the knit cap was right outside the opening of a small cave. The way the trees had grown around the rocks, it was impossible to notice it from a distance.

The perfect hiding spot.

He exchanged worried looks with Tommy before they crept closer, his rifle gripped tightly in both hands, ready for anything. The shuffling got louder and clearer and it became apparent that the noise was coming from right within the mouth of the cave. Catching Tommy's eye, he made sure to show him he was putting his rifle away in favor of his hunting knife. He always preferred a silent takedown over wasting ammunition, but just in case it went sideways, Tommy would be ready to cover him.

Joel situated himself next to the mouth of the cave while the other men, spread out amongst the trees, hid and waited. He reached down and grabbed a rock, throwing it about ten feet away to draw out whoever was hiding.

He didn't even need to see it to know what was waiting for him.

When the rock cracked against a tree trunk and he heard the telltale snarl of infected, he tightened his grip on his knife. The runner stumbled out of the cave with a shriek, jaw snapping angrily in the direction of the noise. Joel had run into his fair share of infected over the years. He knew the noise would have drawn the attention of any infected in the immediate vicinity, and when he only spotted one, he almost breathed a sigh of relief.

He took it down silently with a blade to the back of the head, then inspected the body. It looked fresh, the clothes mostly intact. The rest of the men joined him as they peered inside the cave, listening intently for any movement. When they heard none, they began to advance.

The cave wasn't very big but it was enough to house ten men. At least, that's the number of bodies they found, not a single trace of life left.

"Well, shit," Tommy muttered, kicking one of the mangled bodies with his boot. "Guess that hunch of yours was right."

It didn't exactly please Joel to know he was right, but at least it was the best possible scenario. The men were taken out by infected probably within the past week. He counted the bodies five times. Then recounted the backpacks and sleeping bags. Ten seemed to be the correct number. No one was missing, assuming the runner he had just killed was the only raider who had the misfortune of turning instead of dying right away.

They scavenged what they could from the dead bodies before trekking back to the horses.

"Keep your heads up. Don't mean there ain't anythin' else out here," Joel warned.

"The warmer weather must've thawed out some infected," Tommy mused next to him. Joel nodded.

"Probably should warn the others to keep their guard up the next few weeks," he replied. "Maybe add an extra body to the towers if we can."

Tommy nodded in agreement. The winters in the mountains were harsh but at least they saw a decrease in the undead.

"Now let's get the hell home," George said over his shoulder, the rest of the men mumbling in agreement. Joel ducked his chin to his chest to hide his relieved smile. Home.

To say you were happy to see him return was an understatement. It was closer to ten at night when you finally heard his heavy footsteps on the front porch.

"Told'ya I'd come back," he chuckled when you wrapped your arms around him, squeezing him tight.

"I know," you mumbled into his shirt. His heart swelled in his chest and he closed his eyes, breathing deep the smell of your shampoo. You both had a lot of work to do, essentially starting over and building a relationship from the ground up, but it was moments like those that made him believe everything was going to work out.

"Are you hungry?"

"Nah, just need a shower," he said, dropping his pack by the door and kicking off his boots.

"So I take it you didn't find anything?" you asked, trailing up the stairs behind him. He walked into your bedroom to grab a fresh set of boxers and sweatpants.

"Actually, we did," he began, and your heart plummeted. He saw the look on your face and quickly shook his head. "They were dead by the time we got there. 'Bout ten of 'em holed up in a cave. Infected got to 'em first."

"Oh, wow," you breathed, slowly sinking down onto the bed. "Well, at least you have peace of mind now, right?"

"Exactly," he said, giving you a quick kiss before heading into the bathroom. "Be out in a minute."

You heard the water turn on and you glanced over at the red flannel of Joel's that you slept in the night before. Even though it was clean, it still smelled like him. You glanced at the closed bathroom door and bit your lip, your heart fluttering in your chest as you thought things over. The morning he left, you wished you had told him but you were too sleepy and you wanted it to be more meaningful. Then, when you woke up and his side of the bed was ice cold, you felt the dread begin to creep up your spine. What if something happened and you never told him how you felt?

Well, nothing happened. He was home now. Safe and sound. There was no reason not to tell him.

You heard the water turn off and you jumped up to grab his flannel and scurried out of the bedroom, across the hall to the other bathroom, shutting the door.

Joel emerged a few minutes later with his wet hair slicked back wearing just a pair of sweatpants, per usual. He tossed his dirty clothes in the laundry basket and looked around. He noticed the closed door across the hall and assumed you were getting ready for bed so he slid between the sheets with a groan. He closed his eyes and took a moment to appreciate the mattress underneath him instead of the unforgiving forest floor before leaning over to grab his glasses and a book.

When you tiptoed back into the bedroom wearing only his flannel, he didn't notice at first. His focus was on the small print in front of him, blinking a few times and wondering if he needed stronger lenses when you cleared your throat. He glanced up and did a double take, his lips parting in shock when he saw his red flannel hugging your curves, the hem falling just below your ass.

You looked up at him and feigned surprise. "Oh, is this okay? I was cold-"

"Yes," he swallowed, immediately cutting you off, "it's okay."

You smiled and made a show of bending over to fix the sheets. Again, he swallowed tightly when he caught a glimpse of your black underwear and he felt his cock twitch. Before you turned around he made sure to be focused back on his book, although he was most definitely not absorbing any of the words on the page.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw you peel back the sheets and with a sigh, you tucked yourself in. You glanced over at him, admiring his strong side profile and the way his glasses perched on the tip of his nose.

"I missed you," you whispered, and he dragged his eyes from his book to look at you.

"I missed you, too."

You caught the way his eyes flicked down to your chest where you purposely left two buttons undone so you exposed a little bit of cleavage.

"What are you reading?" you asked, and he laughed through his nose.

"I've got no fuckin' idea."

In a flash, his book was discarded and you were in his lap, your mouth hungrily devouring his as he carefully removed his glasses and tossed them to the side. He wrapped both arms around you and held you close to his bare chest, his tongue licking past your teeth eagerly.

"You look so fuckin' good in my clothes," he growled, sounding as if it pained him before biting at your jaw.

"I wore your shirts the whole time you were gone," you admitted, rolling your head back and grinding down on his hips. You bit your lip when you felt how hard he was already. "Almost the whole week. I slept in your bed and-"

"Fuck," Joel groaned, grabbing your face with both hands and feverishly plunged his tongue into your mouth. You moaned and grabbed his shoulders, the intensity behind the kiss growing too hot. You could feel yourself tumbling, free-falling into the abyss with the unspoken words sitting heavy on your tongue, hoping Joel would be there to catch you.

"Wait," you gasped, pulling away, but only a little. Your forehead still rested against his as you both panted for air.

"I know, I'm sorry-" he was about to apologize for taking things too far when you cut him off.

"Do you remember all those months ago when I asked how I fell in love with you?"

Joel nodded. "Yeah."

"Do you remember what you said?"

He tilted his head back, lips parted as he gazed up at you, wondering why you were asking him those questions in that moment.

"Yeah," he replied slowly, "I said you're gonna have to wait to find out."

You bit your lip and with a shaky hand, you traced one of the wrinkles next to his eyes. "Well, I found out."

His chest stilled, breath caught in his throat as he processed your words. His eyes roamed over your face, hoping and praying he wasn't misunderstanding. When you saw him nervously swallow, you smiled.

"I love you, Joel."

His eyebrows pinched together and before you could see the tears welling up in his eyes, he pulled you down for another searing kiss. This time, he went slower. He savored every second, he memorized everything he possibly could about that moment because the way you made him feel hearing those words was unlike anything he ever experienced and he didn't want to take a single second for granted.

"I love you, too," he choked. He could feel you smile against his lips when he pressed his mouth against yours again. "Fuck, I love you so much," he mumbled, his hands falling to your hips, "I'd do anythin' for you."

Your mouth latched onto his throat and you dropped your hand between your bodies, your fingers lightly stroking him through his pants. And once again, you felt his muscles stiffen and freeze.

For a moment, the self-doubt crept in. What if he didn't want to? Was he too tired? Was he not ready? Then his hand covered your wrist and you watched as he slowly dragged your hand up and down, showing you what he liked. Encouraging you to continue. So you did.

His head tipped back against the headboard with a sigh and he squeezed his eyes shut, removing his hand and letting you take control. He wanted - no, needed - you to call the shots. You needed to take it as far as you wanted to take it.

When your fingers dipped below his waistband, he tensed.

When he finally felt your soft touch on his cock, he groaned.

It was better than he even remembered. His eyes were still closed as you worked him up and down, the arousal pooling between your legs the longer you spent just feeling him and not seeing him.

"I want you," you whispered in his ear, and his hips jolted as he whined against your shoulder. You wanted him.

When he opened his eyes, he looked absolutely wrecked. You could see that he was trying his best to hold back, trying his best to make sure you were comfortable, that you weren't feeling pressured, that you really wanted it.

But when you sweetly whispered please, Joel, he didn't hesitate. He flipped you onto your back and pulled hastily at the buttons of his flannel while he cemented his mouth against yours. Your hands drifted to his hair and back, pulling and scratching as you went while he finally flung open the shirt. He instantly latched his lips around your nipple, making you moan and arch your back underneath him.

"So beautiful," he mumbled against your chest. "Tell me again."

You smiled and peered down at him. "I love you."

He breathed a sigh of relief, his exhale fanning over your skin, making your nipples tighten. His rough hands slid down your stomach, thick fingers splayed wide, trying to touch as much of you as possible at once.

You could hear your heartbeat thrumming steadily in your ears when he dipped his fingers below the elastic of your underwear, a deafening sound that made it hard to focus but when he slid a finger slowly through your arousal, your senses suddenly sharpened. The house could have been on fire but you never would have known because all you could focus on was him.

He dragged his open mouth across your chest, teeth grazing over your collarbone, tongue flicking out and tasting you as he went. His lips puckered and sucked at your skin as he pet gently at your entrance, making you squirm with need and tug impatiently at his hair. When he pulled his hand out of your underwear, you made a frustrated little noise that made him smile. He popped his finger into his mouth and you watched, struggling to breathe, as his eyes fluttered closed and he moaned like he had just slipped into a warm bath after a hard day.

"God, I missed that," he whispered, and the look on his face made you actually believe him.

"Joel..." you breathed, plucking feebly at the waistband of his sweatpants.

"Lemme just make you come on my mouth first," and before you could respond, he was shimmying down between your legs and tugging off your panties. When you glanced down and saw how good it looked with his head between your legs, you relaxed and leaned back. How could you argue with that view?

"Oh," you sighed when his tongue first slid through your folds. You tipped your head back and closed your eyes, allowing your muscles to melt under his touch. His hands held your thighs open but he didn't need to bother. There was no possible way you would do anything to stop him. Not when he felt so good, taking his time and expertly lavishing your core with his tongue. And perhaps he was an expert. At least when it came to you, he had five years of experience to fall back on. He surely must have figured out what you liked in all that time.

Your breath was growing ragged and you could feel the heat creeping up your chest. He pressed the backs of your thighs, pushing your knees up towards your chest so he could devour every inch of you, eating messily at your cunt. You pulled your knees back and hooked your hands around each one, your thighs becoming too shaky to hold open with your own strength.

It was a combination of his lips wrapping around your clit and the deep groan that rumbled through his chest that made you come undone the first time. Instant relief flashed through your body and you released your knees, letting your legs fall limply onto the quilt while he eagerly cleaned you up with his tongue.

When he sensed it was too much, he began peppering kisses along your inner thighs, murmuring praise into your skin as he went. You opened your eyes and peered down at him, your breath getting caught in your throat at the sight. His mouth and beard were glistening with your slick, his own eyes remained shut as he mindlessly nipped and kissed your skin, but even from your angle you could see him rutting his hips into the mattress, looking for any amount of friction to relieve the ache.

You reached your arms out to him and he inched up but stopped at your stomach. He sighed and rested the side of his head against your belly, listening to your breath evening out as he closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around your waist. It took you by surprise that he wasn't immediately jumping at the chance to chase his own release when it was clear just a moment before he was dying for it. You glanced down at him and smiled when you saw the look on his face, simply content with just holding and being close to you. Carding your fingers through his curls, you heard him hum before pressing a gentle kiss against your stomach.

It might have been that moment when you realized he was right. What you had was special and rare. You could feel it in your bones, the way a look or touch sent a jolt right through you. The way you felt drawn to him, even from the very first day of your accident, you could sense something in him. You had no idea at the time what it was, but you were beginning to understand now.

"Joel?" you whispered, worried he might have somehow fallen asleep. Then you felt it. The first hot teardrop hit your skin and your heart clenched. "C'mere," you said, tugging at his shoulders. Begrudgingly, he obeyed. And after his arms loosened and he unpeeled his wet face from your belly, you saw the anguish in his eyes. All watery and wide and guilt-ridden.

"I don't deserve you," he said softly, his voice breaking a bit as you cupped his jaw. "Never did and definitely don't now. Not after everything I've done. Don't deserve your forgiveness, let alone your love."

You shushed him and pressed your lips tenderly against his, your thumb wiping away his tears as they fell.

"Don't tell me who I can and cannot love," you said, taking his chin in your hand and giving it a firm shake, like you were punishing him. He chuckled thickly through the tears.

You pulled him down by the back of his neck and kissed him slower, your tongue just barely dipping into his mouth. He groaned when you began to plant wet kisses along his jaw and you noticed with pride that his chest was rising and falling faster than usual while his hips ground into yours.

"Love you s'much," he almost sounded drunk, the feel of your mouth over his skin clouding his mind and mushing his words together.

"Yeah?" you asked before sucking a bruise where his jaw met his throat. "Then show me."

Joel kicked off his sweatpants and boxers with a grunt but when you went to remove his flannel from around your shoulders, he stopped you.

"Leave it on."

Your cheeks flared with heat at the way he looked at you and all you could do was nod and bite your lip.

It felt like time stood still when you first felt him enter you. Like nothing else in the world mattered outside of those four walls. He held your gaze and your fingers dug into his back, each of you savoring the stretch with your mouths hung open, the only sound was the occasional sharp little breath or gasp from one or both of you.

You could see it in his face again and you had a feeling you mirrored his look. It was too intense. Too overwhelming. So much had happened that led up to that moment: all the fear, sadness, laughter, arguments, long talks and shared traumas came crashing down at once. A tear slid down your cheek right when his hips came flush with yours and he leaned down to kiss it away.

"You okay?"

You nodded and wiped another tear away with the back of your hand.

"It's just a lot, y'know?" you sniffled, hoping he understood. And he did.

His eyes glistened and he smiled, his fingers brushing away a few stray pieces of hair from your face. "I know. We've come a long way."

"Yeah," you whispered, blinking back more tears. Your fingertips traced his bottom lip, your eyes flickering around his face, taking in every little crease and dimple. "Kiss me."

He did as you asked, kissing you slow and deep, matching pace with his hips. Your fingers dug into his arms, holding onto him, keeping him close. His hand pushed his flannel back, exposing one of your shoulders while your head tilted back into the pillows, momentarily breaking away for air. You moaned softly when he began to grind his hips against you, providing your clit with some much needed stimulation while he dragged his mouth down the column of your throat and across your collarbone. When he sunk his teeth gently into your shoulder, he felt you clench around him and gasp.

How's that feel?

Do that again.

Tell me you love me.

I love you.

Those sweet, desperate whispers were shared, breathed into each other's mouths, every word dragged out, every touch deliberate and slow. Neither of you in the mood to rush a thing as your fingers tightly laced together next to your head.

His other hand skirted around your back and under his shirt, palm pressing against your spine, pulling you closer to him, if it was even possible. He flexed his hips and you groaned when the tip of his cock hit a spot that had your entire body buzzing.

"Right there," you whimpered into his neck, brows pinched together and stomach tightening as you concentrated on the fire being stoked deep within you. Every one of his powerful thrusts was adding fuel to the flames. Your skin was slick with sweat and you began to regret keeping his flannel on.

"I know, baby. I remember," he whispered, tightening his grip on you. "Fuck, y'feel so good, I can't-"

"Don't stop! Please, Joel, more," you begged, tears welling up and spilling down your cheeks the closer and closer he pushed you to the edge. Your thighs tensed around his waist and his lips kissed the tears away and when you came, crying his name into his skin, he soothed you. He told you how much he loved you, how much he missed being so close to you, reminded you he was right there, that he had you and everything was okay.

Moments later, you felt his body tremble and his hips stutter. In a haze, you loosened your legs from around his waist. His lips captured yours frantically, fast puffs of exhale fanning over your cheek as he got more and more lost in chasing his climax. Your shaking fingers reached up to get tangled in his hair, ensuring his mouth remained firmly planted against your lips, muffling his groans and garbled versions of your name and I love yous, swallowing everything down until he yanked his hips away, spilling himself all over your stomach.

You both broke the kiss and looked down between your bodies, watching as each weak thrust painted your skin with more and more of his release until he finally stilled and shuddered.

After he finally forced himself to stand, he cleaned you up and slipped back into bed, one of his legs sticking out from underneath the covers, still slightly panting for air. You curled into his side, his arm wrapped around you, pulling you snug against him, his nose getting buried in your hair as you listened to each other's breaths even out. You quietly told him about a wound you stitched up at work all by yourself the day before and he told you how proud he was of you. You listened to him tell you a little more about his trip, how relieved he felt now that he confirmed with his own eyes Jackson was safe. At least, for the time being.

The last thing you remembered was him telling you how much he hated sleeping on the ground and how much he missed you while his knuckles soothingly dragged over your stomach but all you could think about was the warm glow that radiated from your skin and the delicious soreness between your legs as you drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, you heard birds singing outside your window. You smiled before you even opened your eyes. Spring was coming. You always loved spring. Something about it made you hopeful and calm, and that morning was no exception.

You awoke still wrapped in his arms and his flannel, your cheek pressed against his bare chest, one of your legs slotted between his, enjoying the peace and quiet the morning brought.

"I thought you died," you admitted quietly once he woke, your fingertips tracing over the scar above his hip. "When you didn't come back that day, I was so worried. So scared my last words to you were something cruel and hurtful."

He hummed and said, "Oh darlin', I'm so sorry," then kissed the top of your head.

"Don't be. In a way, it helped me realize how much I care about you," you replied, lifting your chin from his chest to glance up at him. He always looked way too handsome in the morning. It was hardly fair. "Made me realize I couldn't live without you."

He grinned and rolled his shoulder, stretching out his sore muscles. "Well, if that's all it took, why didn't you say somethin' sooner?"

You giggled and looked back down at his scar, the smile slowly slipping from your face the longer you looked at the pale jagged edges marring his bronzed skin. "God, that day you didn't come back, though," you continued, your brow furrowed as you thought, "I had the worst pit in my stomach. Almost like I knew something was wrong, you know?"

He nodded and closed his eyes, letting you talk, completely at ease listening to your voice.

"It probably didn't help I had woken up that morning from the worst fucking nightmare."

"What nightmare?" he asked sleepily.

You chuckled when you thought about it.

"It's not really funny," you explained, rolling off of him and onto your back, pulling his flannel closed as you moved. "It had started out just like this, actually. It was morning, we were in bed and we were talking... about death?" you said the last part as if it were a question. "I was asking you if you believed in heaven and I told you I was afraid we were going to hell." His eyes snapped open and he quickly rolled his head to look at you, waiting for you to continue. You laughed again and shrugged. "I guess it felt like a premonition or something. Really freaked me out, it felt so real."

"What else?" he asked excitedly, sitting up. You looked up at him and cocked your head to the side.

"What do you mean?"

"What else do you remember? From the nightmare?"

"Oh," you said, pushing yourself up so you were also sitting. You stared at the wall blankly as you thought about it. "You told me we aren't bad people, and even though I told you we had done bad things, I believed you. Then..." you felt your cheeks flush and he sat forward eagerly.

"Then what?" he urged, and when you looked at him again, any trace of playfulness was gone.

"Then... it got a little dirty but I woke up before anything happened. But I do remember you were on top of me and you said-"

"This is heaven right here?" he finished for you, and you looked at him in surprise.

"Yes! How did-"

"That was no nightmare, honey. That happened," he told you, his voice rising. He thought his heart was going to explode, it was racing so fast.

"What?" you whispered, but Joel was already jumping out of bed and tugging on his boxers.

"C'mon, get up! We gotta take you to see Nick!"

"Wait," you said, buttoning up his flannel as he flew around the room, grabbing new clothes for you both. "Joel, this was a month ago, what will going to see Nick do?"

"I-I-I don't know! But we gotta tell him. Maybe there's somethin' we can do if we know you're capable of -"

"Joel, sit down," you said, cutting him off. He froze, having just tugged on a shirt but his jeans were still left unzipped and unbuttoned. You stared at him until he took the few steps towards the bed and sat down on the edge. "I'll talk to Nick next time I'm at work, but I don't want to barge in there and take up his time. You know this is out of his area of expertise."

He looked disappointed but he knew you were right because he finally nodded in agreement and bit the inside of his cheek while he stared at the floor. You put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, drawing his attention back onto you.

"It doesn't matter, anyway," you said softly. "If my memories come back, then they come back. If they don't, they don't. All that matters is this... right?" you asked, inching closer to him and resting a hand on his thigh. He smiled and enveloped your hand in his.

"Yeah, you're right," he said, staring down at your conjoined hands for a moment. "You wanna go get some breakfast? Maybe talk 'bout it a bit more?"

"Sure," you replied, then leaned forward, kissing him tenderly before standing up. "I should probably shower, though. Last night got a little messy," you said, tossing him a wink over your shoulder. He smirked and watched your ass sway back and forth in his fucking clothes as you made your way to the bathroom. You turned around in the doorway, one hand on the knob, the other braced against the frame as you looked at him expectantly from across the room. "Aren't you coming?"

All the blood rushed directly between his legs and just like that, his excitement for you recalling a memory was replaced by a very different kind of excitement.

"Hell, yes," he said, standing up and shucking off his shirt as he followed you into the bathroom. He grabbed your face with both hands and crashed his mouth against yours, kicking the door shut behind him.

Three Months Later

"Can't believe I'm the one teachin' you how to shoot," Joel muttered in disbelief as you walked back from the line of trees where he had hammered a paper target into one of the trunks. "You were always a better shot than me. Almost better than Tommy, and he was in the goddamn Army."

You laughed and shook your head, still finding it difficult to believe that you ever shot a gun before. From what you remember, you were always afraid of guns growing up.

"Maybe I'm a natural, then."

Enough time had passed and the weather had gotten warm enough where you decided it would be beneficial to re-learn how to shoot. You didn't plan on going back to patrol, but in the world you lived in, it was an important skill to have.

You sat down next to Joel on the fallen tree trunk in the middle of a small field about two miles away from Jackson. He picked up each one of his guns and inspected them, making sure they were clean so there wouldn't be much kickback.

"Have any dreams lately?"

You sighed and shook your head. "Just the one about Ellie, and that was over a month ago."

When you woke up one morning from a dream that felt all too real, you shook Joel awake to tell him about it. It was a simple dream, but it felt intense. You had dreamed Ellie sat you and Joel down at the kitchen table, and full of nerves, explained that she was seeing someone. Someone she cared about deeply. You seemed to catch on quicker than Joel because the conversation lead to where Ellie had to point blank explain to him that she was dating another girl. He seemed surprised but not overly shocked, and when he shrugged it off and still maintained that his only concern was her partner treating her right, her face broke out into a huge smile.

After he confirmed it was a memory, you agreed to see Nick. He didn't end up having much insight on what spurred your sudden recollection that day, just as you expected. But much to your surprise, Joel was perfectly calm. In fact, he made a point of thanking Nick and you even saw him smile at the other man.

And it wasn't just Nick you noticed his demeanor changing toward, either. When kids playing in the street bumped into him, he laughed and waved them off. When Jesse proposed to his girlfriend, Joel was one of the first in line to give him a hearty handshake and wished them well.

You weren't sure if his behavior changed because you were so revolted by it in the beginning, or if he was just happier in general, but you didn't complain.

"Alright, so which one d'you think we're gonna use from this distance?" he asked after he showed you his revolver and then his rifle, explaining the difference between each: how they handled, when to use them, when not to use them, and then finally, how to load and unload them.

You gave him a blank look. "The rifle, Joel. I'm not a complete idiot. I've seen movies."

He grinned and holstered his revolver.

"Good girl. Beauty and brains," he said, and you rolled your eyes.

"Don't start."

"What?" he asked innocently.

"Don't start flirting with me. You'll distract me and I want to take this seriously."

"I ain't flirtin' with you."

"Yes, you are!"

He laughed heartily at your frustrated little pout. "Can you blame me? You're so goddamn cute."

"Joel..." you whined, and he held up both hands in defeat before picking up the rifle.

"Alright, alright. Lemme shoot off a few rounds and you watch my form, okay? Watch my shoulders and where my hands go."

"Okay."

You observed him as he took aim at the target, nearly hitting the bullseye but not quite.

"You wanna give it a shot?"

"Pun intended?"

He grinned and held out the rifle, so you grabbed it and sunk down to one knee, resting your elbows on the tree trunk as you tried to imitate his posture.

"Like this?"

"Mhm," he said, "now take a deep breath and squeeze the trigger nice 'n slow."

Doing as you were told, you inhaled and blinked a few times, making sure your vision was clear and your eye was on the prize. Pursing your lips, you slowly exhaled and squeezed the trigger - only to miss hitting the target entirely.

"Shit," you grumbled, sitting back on your heels.

"You got spooked by the kickback," Joel said, "try again, but this time try not to flinch."

You shouldered the rifle and took aim, once again taking a deep breath and focusing on the little yellow circle in the middle of the target. When you fired off your second round, doing your best not to flinch, you clipped the edge of the paper, but you were no where near the center.

"Goddamnit!" you yelled angrily. Joel chuckled and crouched behind you.

"Here. Lemme help you."

He wrapped his arms around yours and pressed his chest against your back, his hands coming to rest on top of yours as he made some minuscule adjustments to your posture.

"Y'gotta be gentle, see?" he whispered in your ear. Your eyelids fluttered but you managed to nod. "Gotta be patient. Don't let her scare you. Think of her as an extension of you. Like another arm."

"Her?" you teased.

He chuckled, his breath puffing against the back of your neck. "Yeah. Her. I'm respectful and careful with all my girls."

"All?" you repeated, leaning into him a bit. "How many are there?"

"Oh, tons," he said, making you giggle. "But if it makes you feel any better, you're my favorite."

"A favorite over a bunch of guns? I'm so flattered."

"Hey, now. Didn't you just say you wanted to take this seriously? C'mon, focus up," and you knew he was right so you straightened up and pressed your eye against the scope once again.

Joel stayed behind you, his hands on your shoulders to help stabilize your upper body as you squeezed off shot after shot. His advice helped a little, you were at least hitting the paper, but you weren't getting anywhere near his shots from earlier. He could see you were growing frustrated so when you ran out of bullets, he took the rifle and told you to take a break while he reloaded.

"It's okay, darlin'. It's gonna take a bit to get used to it."

You sighed and slumped forward on the tree trunk. "Yeah, I guess," you mumbled.

For the next twenty minutes, Joel coached you while you struggled to remember all his advice at once. Keep your shoulders loose. Don't flinch. Follow through. Breathe. When you pulled the last round into the chamber and took aim, you expected it to go like all the others so you stopped worrying about it and just pulled the trigger.

"Holy shit, you did it!" Joel exclaimed excitedly. You hadn't even bothered to look, so you quickly brought the scope back up to your face. When you saw the small little circle burning a hole through the paper, nearly dead center, you squealed and quickly placed the rifle against the tree so you could jump into Joel's arms. He wrapped his arms around your ribs and spun you around while you giggled into his neck.

"Told you," he said with a wide grin after he put you back down. You grabbed his face with both hands and pulled him into you, crashing your lips together, taking him by surprise. He stumbled forward but wrapped a hand around the back of your neck just as you lost your own footing and fell onto the grass, dragging him down with you.

You laughed against his mouth, still peppering kisses all over his face. He braced both arms on either side of you, elbows digging into the warm grass, smile permanently stretching across his cheeks as he soaked up your affection.

When your laughter died down, you pulled away to gaze up at him, your fingers playing with the dark curls at the base of his neck. The sun was shining over the field and onto his tanned skin, making his sparkling brown eyes look like the color of gold. It took your breath away.

"You're so handsome," you whispered in awe, your fingers leaving his hair in favor of stroking the graying stubble dusting his cheeks. He blushed and shook his head, but before he could protest, you spoke again. "I love you so much, Joel. Sometimes it makes me sad to think we probably wouldn't have ever known each other if the world didn't end."

His eyes softened and he gave you a small smile, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. "I'll always find you. In every life, in every universe. You've got a piece of me," he tapped your chest lightly, "I don't make the rules."

You laughed and laced your fingers together with his. "Like fate?"

He shrugged. "Call it whatever you want. I already told you, sweetheart. We're meant to be together."

You pulled him down for another kiss, this one more gentle. More loving. More intimate. For the hundredth time, you mentally berated yourself for wasting so much time after your accident when you could have been with him like this, being loved and adored and cherished all along. Instead, you both had been searching endlessly for some version of yourself that you weren't sure you would ever find again. But then you realized if you never did, that was okay. Because you got to fall in love with each other all over again, and how many people get to say that?

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel the last of us #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller fluff #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #the last of us game #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #ikwya fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou

[pomefioredove]

Hiya! Do you think you could write something romantic and fluffy with Vil? I love him!

hi anon of course! I am so unwell about this man

summary: being friends with vil schoenheit has its perks type of post: fic characters: vil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu, FLUFFY, mentions of food, friends to lovers huhuhu, maybe a tiny bit suggestive but also not really? lap-sitting and kissing

Someone should write a guide on how to be friends with Vil Schoenheit.

It did not come as naturally to you as you would have hoped. There were times when he felt like a star in your presence, not the actor kind, but the heavenly body.

Bright, and burning, and millions of miles away. Even as he sat directly across from you.

"You're not eating," he remarks. The comment is not degrading, though it is tinged with curiosity. "Is it bad?"

You haven't even sampled the meal yet- something fancy and expensive that you likely couldn't pronounce. He'd ordered it for you.

"It's okay," you lie.

He either buys your excuse, or ignores it. Either way, he reaches across the gossamer table cloth and switches your plates without asking.

Vil Schoenheit Friendship Survival Manual, rule number one: always assume his judgment is correct, until proven otherwise.

You look down at the plate- some kind of vegetable dish. He urges you on with a nod, lilac eyes fixed firmly on your pleasantly surprised reaction when you take a bite.

Rule number two: his judgment is always correct.

"Better?" he asks, not bothering to finish your food. He'll likely get something else later. "You really shouldn't skip meals. If you were feeling unwell, you should have said so. I would've ordered something lighter for you."

"Sorry. Didn't think of it," you say, taking another bite of his meal, if only to appease him.

You're hesitant to mention that the heavy feeling in your chest wasn't from illness, and so you say nothing more.

"No need to apologize. Here,"

Vil delicately reaches across the table and dabs at the corner of your mouth with his napkin. You hate how light-headed such a simple action makes you feel.

"Better. And don't worry about smudging anything, I have a few new products I'd like to try out on you later,"

Rule number three: always accept his gifts.

"Thanks," you murmur.

You were starting to feel as if you really were ill, the way your entire body warmed in his presence. Vil brought out a feverish sort of stupidity in you that made outings like this a minefield to navigate.

How painfully cliché, you thought. Hopelessly in love with someone far out of your league, with infinite options, none of which you could even hope to catch up to...

It made these evenings together pure torture.

You felt guilty for wishing he wasn't such an amazing friend. Must he insist on showering you in gifts and holding your hand every time you cross the street?

But being in his bedroom is another, dirtier realm of guilt. Vil saw you as a friend. Platonic. Someone he confided in, who he took under his wing. You were allowed to see parts of him no one else had, and yet, you can hardly pay attention to what he's saying because you can't stop thinking about the way his lips look when he speaks.

"Did you understand any of that?" he asks, bending down to your level as you sit on his bed. On his bed. And you had the mind to be thinking about doing romantic things...

Rule number four: speak when spoken to.

"No, sorry, I've just had a lot on my mind lately,"

Vil clicks his tongue and holds a hand to your forehead, feeling for temperature. "And you're sure you're not ill?"

"I'm fine! Just distracted,"

He chuckles, walking across the room to peruse his vanity. "Hm... and what sort of thoughts have got you scatterbrained today?"

You can feel your skin burning again. He could tell, couldn't he? All these weeks of coming undone every time he so much as looks your way couldn't have gone over his head... could they?

Or perhaps he was just used to people staring at him, stumbling over their words every time he spoke. Perhaps you were just another foolish fan who'd gotten to know him before falling in love.

You couldn't help but wish that there was someone or something that would just tell you what to do.

Rule number five: do not fall in love with him.

Vil sits beside you, a small, wooden box in hand.

"I'm supposed to promote these next weekend, but I'm not sure about them, yet," he says, opening the lid to reveal a plethora of lipsticks that likely cost more than your existence. "I'll need your opinion, of course."

"Right," you murmur.

"And I'd like to try them on you, as well,"

"Of course,"

"And you're alright with that?"

You nod. Ever the gentleman, always asking for permission. He's been quite generous with his products lately, giving them away to you like candy. You're almost certain he has a full list of your allergens somewhere.

Vil returns to the vanity, delicately prepping, and then applying the first shade. It's a marvelous, metallic pink, with dark red undertones that make it a regal color. It suits him, and you say as much.

"Oh, you think so? I suppose it does compliment my eyes, although I'd definitely need to pair it with something darker, else it become too overpowering..."

He clicks his tongue, and then turns to look over his shoulder at you.

"Your turn. Come sit,"

There isn't another chair at the vanity, and you take that as your cue to awkwardly stand in front of him until he tells you what to do. He chuckles, amused by some thought of his that he doesn't share aloud.

"What are you standing there for? Sit,"

You awkwardly look around the space, eyes searching for a mysteriously hidden stool, something that should have been obvious...

He smiles. "Oh, don't be shy. We've known each other long enough by now, haven't we?"

You can't think of the right thing to ask, although your thoughts are quickly cut off by the sight of him gently patting his lap.

Sevens. If there were any time to wake up, this was it.

Rule number five: do not fall in love with him.

He's not joking, of course. Vil hardly jokes. And so, you awkwardly straddle his lap, facing towards him, and allow him to get a good look at your visage.

He holds your chin firmly, studying your features as if he hasn't already seen them a thousand times before.

"Stay still,"

He's going to give you a heart attack, and there's a little quirk in his smile that tells you he knows it, too.

You wonder what your tag at the morgue will say. Death by Vil Schoenheit?

He starts with your skin, commenting on how soft it's gotten since he met you, then your eyes...

...Once he's satisfied, as he always is with his work, he turns your head so you can admire the makeup look in the mirror behind you.

"Stunning," he comments. "But you're missing something."

You look back, eyes wide. Surely, he hadn't forgotten something...? That's simply not in his nature.

He smiles at your confusion. "Remember? You promised to test these for me?"

Right. The lipstick. You nod. "Yes, but, I thought you'd already..."

"Oh, I do like the color. I'm just worried about this brand," Vil says. He looks away for a moment, almost as if to summon his courage... what a strange expression on him.

"What's wrong with the brand?"

He turns back with a small smirk. "They have a nasty reputation for smudging easily. I wouldn't want to make a fool of myself next weekend, hm?"

His cups your chin again, bringing you closer.

Rule number five: do not fall in love with him!

He tilts his head to the side. "You don't mind, do you?"

You couldn't have shaken your head any faster, even with his grip on your chin.

"Good. Now, stay still. I think this will be a good color on you, anyway,"

He pulls you in with ease, letting his lips rest on yours for a second or two, before pulling back. Short but sweet, enough to make you feel like your entire body has gone numb.

He inspects your face, humming to himself...

"Good so far," he says, bringing you closer again. "But that was too safe. I won't hold back next time. Are you ready?"

You nod. Barely anything had happened, and you're already breathless. "Ready,"

Another smile crosses his perfect face, though he doesn't give you any time to admire it before he's kissing you again, one hand still cupping your face, the other holding the back of your neck and pressing you closer.

Definitely not a very platonic kiss.

It takes him longer to pull away this time, though when he does, it gives you a perfect view of his still-pristine makeup.

"Hmm... still nothing. I'm quite impressed with this line," he says, reaching behind you and returning with the wooden box. "How do you feel?"

Dizzy. Light-headed. Warm.

"Good," you say.

Rule number five: do not fall in love with him.

Or do.

"Not too much, I hope?"

A delightful realization was beginning to come over you, one that made all you had thought about him null and void:

No one else could possibly give you a guide on Vil Schoenheit, because he writes the rules himself.

"No. That was perfect,"

"Excellent," he smiles, and flips the box open again. "Because we still have six more colors to test."

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #GAH.

[reginnaofallwaters]

☆ HONKAI STAR RAIL

duckin' (boothill x gn!reader)

tw: none

additional: hint of forbidden love, a lot of censored cursing tbh

a/n: i'll proofread this when i wake up lol. i just had an idea and i needed to do word vomit before i forget all of it <//3 anyway hi :)

A relationship between human and cyborg.. How did that even work?

That was the question you always heard when the people of your planet met your boyfriend.

Granted, cyborgs were, in a way, still human. Not completely for sure, but still human. They had human feelings, human desires, human minds. It just so happened they had a body of steel and metal. There was no denying, however, that cyborgs felt.. a little inhuman sometimes. Their bodies was one such example, the steel often glinting underneath the light. Often times, they had.. "unique" features that weren't present in normal humans. Some had retractable arms, extended legs, and even extended—

Let's not go there.

Point is— cyborgs weren't quite human. Their unique features would make regular humans fear them. But, hey, this was the whole damn universe, of course there'll be the occasional weirdo or two with the sheer amount of planets that littered the whole, wide galaxy (I mean, Planet Screwllum literally exists), but that's to be expected.

Anyway, where were we? Right. Unique features.

For one, your boyfriend, a cyborg named Boothill, had this fun, little tech embedded in him called the Synesthesia Beacon. It was a translator device that allowed one's thoughts and consciousness into a language the receiver could understand. In this case— you.

Oh, and it was so, so hilarious.

And it also just happened that someone tinkered with his Synesthesia Beacon (Aeons knew who but a part of you thanks them for it). As thus, any fun curse words he wished to say were basically censored.

"That fudging idiot!" Boothill hissed lowly under his breath. "Can't forking believe that someone messed around with my Synesthesia Beacon. How the heck did they manage to do that anyway?"

You bit back a laugh and attempted for a gentle smile to hide your smirk. That obviously failed with the way Boothill shot you a warning glare.

"Ya sure ya weren't behind this, darlin'?" He plopped himself onto the seat next to you, cold, mechanical arms immediately wrapping around your waist like it belonged there. The thought made you a little happy. Just a little, of course. "Maybe ya did this to mess with me, hm?"

"I would never," you retorted with a chuckle. "I can't even trust myself with tinkering with elaborate machinery or whatnot, what made you think I'd have the balls to mess yours up?"

"Hah. Fair enough," he replied. "Still. Look at me. I sound like a character from those duckin' kid shows."

Boothill's face contorted, an unpleasant sneer forming on his lips at the realization that a simple 'damn' got censored too. God, that expression was hilarious.

"Pfft—" You really, really couldn't hold it back for much longer— "Duckin', huh?"

"Sweetheart, ya know I love ya, so spare me the laughin' and just don't for the love of frills— The fork?! Frills? Frills? Are you friggin kiddin' me right now? That friggin' son of a birch, I swear."

You laughed silently as he continued to rant on (Read: Attempt to cuss) with no end. You shifted in your place to face him, gently removing his grip on your waist. Once you've faced him, you gently cupped his cheeks, eyebrow raised.

Boothill stopped.

You always had that effect on him. One simple touch was all it took to rid him of all of his anger. It didn't matter whatever shit he was worrying about, the moment you touched him with a knowing glint in your eye, he immediately went quiet each time. His shoulders relaxed, obsidian eyes softening, and the deep frown on his face easing into a neutral line.

"You calmed down much more quicker this time," you hummed, thumb gently tracing his cheek. "Color me surprised."

"Duh, because it's ya, sweetheart," he murmured in reply, nuzzling further into your touch. "Don't know how ya do it, but ya always make me feel calm. I like it."

You didn't reply this time, your other hand reaching out to remove the hat atop of Boothill's head and placing it aside. Your fingers threaded itselves through his long, black and white locks, brushing aside the occasional tangle. His hair wasn't soft and perfect by any means but.. you didn't mind.

You still recalled the way your friends and family were.. rather concerned for you once they learned of your relationship with Boothill. In your planet, cyborgs, mechanical, and inorganic life forms weren't exactly welcome. It was taboo to even interact with one. Yet, you went ahead and got yourself a cyborg boyfriend anyway. Of course, they would be concerned.

Putting his whole "cyborg" origin aside, Boothill's personality and position as a Galaxy Ranger was something to.. definitely worry about. Galaxy Rangers were known for being lone travellers throughout the universe. Rarely do they travel in groups unless subduing an evil that a Ranger couldn't deal on their own. Wouldn't you be just abandoned? Be neglected? Those were the words of your loved ones.

Boothill wasn't like that in the slightest. Despite his outgoing and unrestrained personality, he made sure to never leave you alone for too long. Made you sure were happy first and foremost. Wasn't that enough? Wasn't him doing his best enough?

As you gaze into his eyes, you smiled again.

Yes. It was definitely enough.

"I love you," you said.

"I love you too, sweetheart," he said in turn. "Too duckin' much."

"..Pfft. Duckin'."

"I take it back. I don't love ya anymore."

"Hey!"

So, how did a relationship between a human and a cyborg work?

You don't know. It just did. To your planet, it was a taboo. To you, it felt right. It didn't matter to you one bit. In the end, Boothill being a cyborg did not matter.

And wasn't the most important thing here was love? You love him. He loves you.

That alone was enough.

#hsr x reader #hsr boothill x reader #boothill x reader #☆knights' writings

[sunnycanvas]

Could you do headcanons of how Baldwin would act if he was angry? Even better if he was angry at the reader, Thank you!!! 💜

I was in a castle trapped and waiting. I just don't know how it happened, I really am confused how the situation out like this.... I wish Baldwin was here. He'd make sense of all this confusion . Any attempts from my side have proved to be futile. All I hear from the knights stationed out saying "I don't know my lady". I knew they were lying and I could tell they were started to get annoyed by my attempts to know. Today was like any other day, I was waiting in my room trapped looking out the window envying the freedom commoners enjoyed. When suddenly a knight knocked at my door. "My lady, May I come in?" He questioned I could tell that he was tired and frustrated but strangely I could make out hint of relief in his voice. "You may" I answered back. The knight came in and announced "His majesty the king wishes too see you". I could tell my mere presence annoyed him. Seems like I tired him out too much with my attempts to contact my husband. I smiled and said "Tell his majesty that his queen is delighted to finally him". The knight scoffed in fake mockery and left. That surely angered me. I am surely a fairly patient but there is so much I can take, come to think it seems the knight in the castle seems to acting hostile with me. "Must be war" I reasoned I knew that I was being naive. If only I knew what awaited me

Baldwin, my beloved husband, entered the room with an air of grim determination, his confident strides causing my initial enthusiasm to melt into fear and confusion. "Baldwin, what's wrong?" I ventured, my voice tinged with apprehension. Baldwin smirked mockingly looking sideways whispering to himself "I should have been the one asking instead". He now looked at me as if ready to ponce "How long has it been going on" he demanded, his tone laced with anger and accusation. Confusion clouded my thoughts as I stammered, "What are you talking about?" Baldwin's frustration boiled over as he denounced my innocence, his words striking deep. "I am done with your nonsense, I know everything," he spat. "You are not as innocent as you look." "Now, Tell me" Baldwin walked towards me angrily as I slowly backed myself towards the wall. Having my back making contact with the wall. I knew I had no place to run. Baldwin aware about the same trapped me between his arms. In any other situation I would have swoon out of joy but unfortunately it's different right now. Baldwin narrowed his eyes and gave me predatory look. "Come to think about he is your type vigorous and wealthy" he sneered, his words a cutting indictment of my character.

Offended and stung by his insinuations, I retorted, "Who are you talking about?" Baldwin's rage flared anew as he spat out the name, "Raymond of Tripoli, who else?" Anger surged within me as I confronted his baseless accusations. "So that's what this has all been about?" I challenged. "Have you forgotten that he is already married?" Baldwin's response was a bitter reminder of the harsh realities of noble society. "When has that ever stopped noblemen from taking mistress" he yelled. "Tiberias is different," I countered, my voice firm, watching as my words struck Baldwin like a blow. His frustration erupted into a desperate grip on my arms, his accusation cutting deep. "I knew it," he seethed. "It's one thing to seduce the king and then the count. It was your ploy all along. You just wanted my crown." His words hung heavy in the air, each accusation a dagger to my heart. "Are you even hearing yourself, Baldwin?" I demanded, incredulity lacing my voice. "First, you accuse me of adultery, now treason against the crown?" His hand raised in a halting gesture, demanding my silence. "It's 'Your Majesty' to you," he corrected sharply, a coldness settling over us like a shroud. Swallowing my tears, I braced myself against the onslaught of his betrayal. For a fleeting moment, I caught a glimpse of remorse in Baldwin's eyes but it was quickly overshadowed by the weight of his mistrust. "Your grace" something seemed to snap in Baldwin who now wanted to caress my face but stopped at last moment. Finding my voice again I managed to mumble "I don't understand". Baldwin appeared lost in thought, his features clouded with a turmoil of conflicting emotions. Then he confessed, "Baldwin of Ibelin and Raymond of Tripoli had been planning to marry Ramla to Sibylla and then depose me."

"What!?" I exclaimed, the shock and confusion evident in my voice as Baldwin stood before me, silently reading my expression. "You really didn't know" He asked his voice laced with disbelief. I shook my head in vehement denial. Baldwin let out cry of frustration and said "Stop, (Y/N), you obviously knew," he insisted. "We have evidence backing up your involvement". "No, I swear," I protested, my confusion mounting at the vile accusations leveled against me. "So you are telling me you people weren't having a coup?" "So tell me dear (Y/N) what were you planning" Baldwin pressed, his voice laced with skepticism.

"We were merely arriving to celebrate Easter when news reached us of Princess Sibylla's sudden marriage," I explained, my voice steady despite the turmoil within" "We were all taken aback, myself included who was most hurt of them all and then hurt and offended, we chose to leave and celebrate elsewhere". Baldwin's disbelief hung heavy in the air. "You really expect me to believe this nonsense?" he challenged, his doubt evident. Meeting his gaze with unwavering confidence, I countered, "What kind of people would leave immediately if they were planning a coup? Besides, Tiberias could have easily seized power when he was regent." A flicker of insecurity danced across Baldwin's features, but he maintained his composure. "My sister is already married to Guy de Lusignan, so your coup failed," he asserted. The mention of Guy de Lusignan stirred memories of familial alliances and political maneuvering. Guy de Lusignan must be the younger brother of Aimery de Lusignan Agnes's ally. My mother in law and I always had our indifferences mostly that had to do with her forceful personailty but I never thought she would stoop so low.

"Your Majesty, please believe me," I implored, desperation creeping into my tone. "I am being framed. Guy would not be a suitable king. Despite his attempted abduction of Eleanor of Aquitaine, I know other less-than-admirable things about him. Unlike his brother, he lacks the capability."

Baldwin remained unmoved by my words, his resolve unshaken. "You have no evidence to support your claims, while we have evidence of your involvement with Raymond III, Count of Tripoli, and the Ibelin brothers in a coup against me," he countered, his disappointment palpable. "I had hoped, (Y/N), that you would have confessed, that you would never betray me." "That you were being coerced to betray me".

I made one final attempt to reason with Baldwin, my voice trembling with desperation. "Baldwin, please, Tiber-" "Don't use his nickname in my presence!" he thundered, cutting me off with a fierce glare. "Raymond and I are just friends, and you know well enough that your mother harbors no love for me. She's the one framing me!" "I will not hear slander against my mother," Baldwin retorted, his tone icy with resolve. "Patriarch Heraclius has agreed to an annulment." "Another one of Agnes ally" I thought. "You shall be deprived of your status as queen consort of Jerusalem and once that is done you will leave my palace immediately" he declared, his command final and unwavering as he was about to leave.

"Your Majesty, please!" I pleaded, my voice echoing with desperation as he turned to leave. "Your Majesty, please believe me" The door slammed shut with a resounding thud, cutting off my words and leaving me alone in the suffocating silence of the room. Slowly, I sank to the floor, my gaze fixed on the closed door, my mind swirling with fears for the future of the kingdom and for my own uncertain fate.

#baldwin iv #baldwin iv imagine #baldwin iv x reader #king baldwin iv #kingdom of heaven #kingdom of heaven 2005 #kingdom of heaven fandom #kingdom of heaven fanfic #kingdom of heaven fanfiction #kingdom of heaven headcanons

[temis-de-leon]

Shy gn!reader confesses to the Demon Brothers

Characters: Mammon, Levi, Satan, Asmo and Beel (x reader, separately)

Main Masterlist

Anon request: Could I request headcanons for Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, and Beelzebub, react to shy gn crush confessing to him nervously?

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A/N: life became hard for 4 full days and writer's block hit me with the power of a thousand suns. Then I went to therapy and I immediately started writing. Here it is, folks, 1899 words.

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Mammon

There’s no doubt that Mammon loves to have fun. Either counting money at casinos or wildly drinking and dancing at various clubs, the sight of him with the occasional fling by his side is not a strange one for the demon folk.

He doesn’t look for it; it’s not like he needs to, anyway. After all, who wouldn’t like to be with The Great Mammon? He’s a catch!

But no, it isn’t something he needs to feel good. His heart beats for one thing and one thing only: money. Gold sparkling on his fingers and coins filling his pockets, what else is there to live for?

His brothers would never understand him. When Beel empties the kitchen it’s cute, but when he steals Levi’s figurines, Asmo’s jewellery and Lucifer’s wallet suddenly it’s a problem.

And what’s his punishment? Taking care of a dumb, weak, boring human.

You better leave him alone, MC! He’s a very important demon and he has very important things to do! Don’t you listen to what his brothers say about him! Listen only to him!

Also, pay him attention and ignore the others! He’s so much better, you know? Can’t you see by now? He wishes you did and he isn’t sure how he feels about it.

The pang in his chest, his reddened cheeks and his avoidant gaze aren’t things he’s used to, but they become the norm once he spends more time with you.

Enduring his brothers’ jokes and taunts is humiliating and he perfectly knows he would act the same if he wasn’t the one involved, but damn MC, why do you have to be the way you are? Why are you so easy to fall in love with?

You have to feel the same, right? With your stammering and your bashfulness, you have to feel the same.

Mammon thanks his Father when you invite him to your room out of the blue and blurt out your feelings. The situation is ridiculous, he’s sweating buckets and your hands won’t stop shaking.

He tries to confess back without directly saying he loves you.

Key word ‘tries’.

Leviathan

Love is not for him, or rather, he’s not made for love.

That’s just who he is. A shut-in who finds companionship in fiction, in the idealization of friendship, romance and loyalty. His expectations are set way to high, near long opening titles and uninterrupted rambles, and he doesn’t expect people to reach them. Is he even worth the effort?

He has internet friends who he met through online gaming and forums and he cherishes them very much, but it makes him feel lonely and insecure sometimes. What type of life do they have when they’re not gaming or role playing or just talking on video calls with him? Do they act like plain old normies, taking their partners out on dates or having lunch with their classmates after class?

He prefers not to think about it.

Your arrival to the Devildom doesn’t change his life at all. He’s curious, sure, but what are the chances of you sharing his interests? Also, you quickly become friends with Mammon, which says enough about yourself.

At least, that’s what he thinks at the beginning. Time passes, as well as the TSL quiz, and he immediately realizes that you’re not who he thought you were.

There’s no judgement in your eyes whenever he rants about the latest piece of media he has consumed, instead filled with curiosity and fascination; and not only you’re the sole person in the house that doesn’t make fun of him, but you also defend him against his brothers.

His romantic feelings for you grow strong and fast, but your friendship is what’s most important for him.

You’re so, so much better than what he initially thought, even when you remind him of himself sometimes.

The glint in your bashful gaze, the doubt in your words in search of the right ones and the everlasting fidgeting with your fingers. You are the perfect romantic interest from the perfect otome game and he can’t believe how lucky he is to be the main character.

When you finally confess to him under the comfort of the blue lights of his aquarium, you’re barely able to finish your sentences while looking at him, which in reality is a blessing, because he can’t bring himself to look at you either when he confesses back.

It’s awkward, but sweet. Kind of like him.

Satan

Romance is for him what a painting is to the viewer. A novel to the reader.

He understands the significance, the words, the colours. What the creator wants to portray and what the consumer interprets. Narrative rules, the significance of flowers, metaphors, history… All of that mixed with the abstract of the mind.

He understands.

He just doesn’t feel it. Not at its full potential, at least.

There had been partners in his life, years ago, and he knows he’d loved them, but he wasn’t in love with them. Whatever line kept him from going forward with his feelings is what made him stop trying alone.

Books and cats and the Anti Lucifer League are enough for him to be occupied. They also make him happy, so his views on romantic love are easily set aside.

He doesn’t think much of you at the beginning, mainly because he doesn’t expect you to last very long, but you quickly show an amount of potential he’s ready to exploit.

Diavolo dreams of unifying the three realms and Lucifer would do anything to not spoil those plans, so what better way to annoy his brother than through you?

It’s selfish and reckless and of course his eagerness screws the whole thing up, but it ultimately helps him realize he shouldn’t have underestimated you.

You are kind, brave and smart. You see him beyond his wrath and his academic knowledge, remembering him even in the smallest of details that surround you. It was such care and affection that made his feelings grow.

For the first time in his very long life he starts to relate to the characters in his books, his heartbeat increasing when the scenarios feel too familiar or when the dialogues replicate exactly what he yearns to say to you.

It’s thanks to his novels that he recognizes your feelings. The shy and endearing romantic interest quietly approaching the main lead, confession learnt by memory.

His first reaction is to be surprised. He doesn’t expect something like this to happen to him, let alone you being the one to reciprocate his feelings. How luckier could he be?

Asmodeus

What better love exists than the one he feels for himself? He’s beautiful, charming, adorable, addictive and every other compliment in the book. He can’t get enough of them!

He’s obsessed with the idea of being surrounded by people, by their affections and their devotions, touching him, looking at him, singing him praises. Unfortunately for everyone else, his narcissistic tendencies only grow when those that fall under his charm feed into his “delusions”.

That’s how Mammon calls it, at least.

At the time of receiving, he doesn’t distinguish between romantic love and sexual attraction, although it’s more difficult for him to reciprocate the first one.

Deep down, hidden amongst his insecurities, Asmo believes no one would love him for his truest self. That’s why he insists on looking perfect at all times, following a strict sleep schedule and a well-balanced diet, going out to remain in everyone’s minds; always a trending topic, a sensation.

If his outstanding physique and impeccable personality aren’t enough for you to know he’s the best amongst his brothers, then his charm would do the work.

But it doesn’t.

When he purposefully makes eye contact there’s no sign of you falling for his magic and, suddenly, he finds himself at a loss of words.

He doesn’t panic too much, given that he is still a beautiful and powerful demon that could devour you in a second, but knowing that there’s no barrier between the two of you to protect his vulnerability gives him an unpleasant feeling of exposure.

Surprisingly enough, it’s also your resistance to his powers what centers his attention on you. You’re one of the very few people that knows him as he is, even with the ugly parts, and it doesn’t take too long for his affections to become obvious and somewhat desperate.

Asmo is elated when your behaviour around him changes. He recognizes the pattern, since he’s seen it many times in his fans, and he can’t believe that someone who’s seen him at his worst still considers him as beautiful as those who have only seen what he wanted to show.

Although you don’t really need to confess, due to him immediately wanting to be with you, hearing your feelings spoked out loud sends his heart into a frenzy rhythm.

The attention fuels his ego, sure, but it’s the veracity of your words what makes him want to cry out of happiness.

Beelzebub

He’s not really interested in relationships. There is a fling here or there, sure, he still has other type of urges, but he hardly thinks about it.

The feeling of emptiness follows him around like a metal ball and chain and the only consumption that can give him relief, even if temporarily, comes only in the form of food.  

He’s often seen as emotionless or famished and, although he knows he’s popular amongst many students, his height and muscles make him look too intimidating to engage further than necessary.

It isn’t something that bothers him at all. His love goes straight to his family and there’s nothing food can’t fix.

However, when he is told Belphie is the demon chosen for the student exchange program, the hole inside of him grows deeper and deeper. His urges go on a rampage and Lucifer has to give him a pep talk to drill into his brain how important it is that you are to remain uneaten.

It’s not like he’s very interested in you anyways, so leaving you alone doesn’t feel like a draining task.

Of course that changes when you physically put yourself between him and Lucifer. A stupid, idiotic, reckless decision that serves to prove how brave you are.

Your friendship quickly blossoms after that and, unlike many other people, you start seeing him beyond his hunger. That makes him cherish you even further, but it’s your dedication to helping his family what sparks a romantic interest in you.

Since he’s not that experienced in that regard, it feels a little intimidating, but you make it seem easy and effortless. The both of you are equally shy in your affections and there’s a mutual unsaid understanding that helps you build the base of a relationship, so the confession isn’t really necessary.

Still, hearing you say the words makes his heart flutter.

His response is short and blunt, but sweet in nature. He is blushing the whole time, not breaking eye contact with you, and for the first time in many years, he feels completely satisfied.

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Tagged: @darkflowerav

#obey me #obey me! shall we date? #om! shall we date #om! swd #obey me mammon #obey me mammon x reader #obey me leviathan #obey me levi x reader #obey me satan #obey me satan x reader #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo x reader #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel x reader #obey me x reader #obey me x gn!reader #obey me fluff #obey me headcanons #obey me requests

[fictional-orphan-smackdown]

ROBIN VS. ROBIN, GO!

All propaganda and what each competitor is from under the cut

Dick Grayson (DC Comincs)

So a bunch of Robins are orphans or orphan adjacent but Dick has the strongest case in his birth parents, whom he was raised by, being very very dead. The kind of orphanhood that sticks in the characterization marrow. Plus in some versions he was carted off to the orphanage and everything, starting his "what if I fist-fought my parents' killer myself" arc early until Bruce ultimately decided to pluck him off his warpath and adopt him.

Dick Grayson is truly the orphan of all time not only is he the ward of another famous orphan (batman) but he really was able to surpass his mentor after being orphaned and used that anger towards his parents death to immediately start fighting crime under the Robin Moniker. The other orphans in dc wish they could do it like him. Plus his name is Dick which is objectively funny.

Dressing like a stoplight and kicking people in the face under a bat furry's direction was the MORE reasonable coping strategy than his original plan. Of singlehandedly taking down the entire mafia even though he was a baby.

Think Batman had issues? Well, consider what happens is he raises his mini-me. This guy is waaaayy too tactically driven and ambitious for a thirteen-year-old. And awesome. And the adult version is —- somebody append a photo.

Okay I submitted Bruce Wayne but like I can’t not submit my beloved boy as well! Anyway his parents have the nebulous honor of being so fucking dead, like literally never coming back to life ever. They died in that circus and the only time I can possibly think of them as ‘coming back’ in any way is in Darkest Night, where there were zombies everywhere. So even when they return to the story they’re still fucking dead! Anyway Dick is like super orphaned, I love him but you look at him and you know his parents are dead.

Please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please

Trust me bro

Tim Drake (DC Comics)

An early reader-insert character, Tim had all the traits the average comics fan at the time wanted: money, martial arts skills, cool skateboard tricks, lots of girlfriends, secret knowledge about Batman and Robin. He volunteered to be Robin, because what comics fan wouldn't in his place? Continuing to be relatable, he's now bisexual, depressed, and living in a crappy apartment. Which is also a boat, because comics readers think it would be cool to live in a houseboat.

His biological mother, Janet Drake, was murdered in the carribean. In the same attack his biological father was hospitalized for injuries and in a coma. Janey Drake was buried on Christmas Eve. During the period that Jack Drake (his biological father) was in a coma he was temporarily under the care of Bruce Wayne. When Jack got out of the coma he was confined to a wheelchair while he went through physical therapy. He would meet his future second wife, Dana Winters through the physical therapy. The two would get married later, Tim having a good relationship with Dana. Her mediating between the father and son during some of the misunderstandings. Jack would find out that Tim was Robin, then realize Bruce Wayne was Batman, threaten Bruce with a gun, and order Tim to quit being Robin. Though later, Tim would get approval from his father to be Robin again and the two would start improving their father son relationship. During the event of identity crisis Tim's indenture would be at stake and Captian Boomerrang would break into the Drake's house and murder Jack just as Tim arrived. Tim having heard his last words over Comms. His stepmother Dana Winters would be hospitalized in Bludhaven for the mental trauma this inflicted on her, and would soon find herself a victim when Bludhaven was bombed/nuked. Tim would then be adopted by Bruce. Though in 2008 Bruce would be supposedly killed by an Omega Beam, leaving 17 year old Tim as a three times over orphan. Though Tim didn't believe Bruce to actually be dead, but lost in the timestream and would go on a Brucequest to get him back. On this trip he would lose his spleen, and nearly die multiple times.

Doomed by the narrative to become an orphan. Tim had a good thing going for a while, but after he started getting involved with the Bats, his life went downhill from there. He became Robin on the day of his mother's funeral. (I should note that the racism I mentioned in her cause of death is that the person who kills her is an awful racist caricature, NOT that she's canonically a POC.) From there, he spent a while balancing Batman (mentor) and his biological father (who was rendered comatose in the incident that killed his mother, but woke up not long after). Both the Robins that came before him were orphaned. As one Tumblr user put it: while Tim Drake managed to beat the odds and remain not an orphan, eventually, the writers succumbed to the calls of orphanhood. His father dies after he finds out Tim's identity, and it is because he knows the secret that he is ultimately targeted and dies. In the aftermath, Tim attempts to get revenge by assassinating the culprit, but ultimately is unable to betray his personal values and go through with it. He has one of the more realistic parent-child relationships among the Bats because it is down to earth in spite of the eventual doom. Really, it comes down to this: Robin isn't just Batman's sidekick, he's Batman's child. And that meant it was only a matter of. time before Tim Drake was orphaned

#poll #dc comics #dc robin #dick grayson #tim drake #batman

[imjustwritingg]

Other than wanting to wrap Hailey in cotton wool and give her the biggest hug, how are you feeling/what are your thoughts after last nights episode?

This turned into an unofficial review of sorts and it got rather long, so I’ll post it all below the cut for those that want to read my thoughts.

I might be in the minority here, but I really enjoyed the episode. I kinda loved it actually, and it might be one of my favorite episodes. I enjoyed everything about it…the writing, the directing, the acting.

Gwen Sigan wrote the episode, but I gotta give her credit where it’s due because it was pretty damn good in my book. It reminded me a lot of her writing days prior to her becoming show-runner and I miss those days so very much.

I think the tidbits of Hailey’s past are coming way too late, but I still really enjoyed getting to peek into her life a bit more. Just wish we could have gotten more of it along the way and not three episodes before the character is gone.

I loved Kevin’s blatant callout to Hailey in the first minute of the episode of how she’s dealing and if running is helping her. He asks this question of “how are you doing…really doing?” with no words and just one look, and then we’re given the answer by Hailey deflecting and avoiding yet again under the guise of wanting a sugar fix. I think that was brilliant. It conveyed everything you needed to know about Hailey’s mental state in one short moment.

No Voight in the episode was such a gift.

Hailey being in charge and leading this particular case was the right move and she handled it so well. I’m bummed we probably won’t see her leading her own unit someday.

Also back to the no Voight thing just for a moment to say that it’s interesting to see how the dynamic shifted with the team versus him not being around and Hailey being in charge. The team felt lighter to me, like in the sense that they weren’t on edge, walking on eggshells in a way. Everything just felt calmer. There was still an intensity and an urgency to solve the case, but rules were followed, there was no off the book cowboy bullshit, and it felt like everyone followed Hailey and trusted her, whereas with Voight they were obeying orders that were barked out to them. I don’t know. It just felt really different and so very satisfying to me.

I love Kevin and Kim’s ability to communicate with one another with just one look between them. Makes me think of the early days of them being partners and being on patrol. They still work so wonderfully together.

This case was sick. A mother doing that to her own child is demented. Where these writers, and Gwen specifically, come up with these ideas is beyond me, but someone should probably do a wellness check on her. Like girly needs some serious therapy and R&R.

Josephine Petrovic. I had some hesitation with her at first as you usually do with a new character as you try and suss them out, but I’ve gotta say, I like her. I like her and I hate that I like her and I hate that she only just came onto the show because I would love to see what happens with her if she were to stick around, but I can’t watch this show without Tracy or Jesse — mostly Tracy — but neither of them? I just can’t do it. I have some other thoughts on Jo, but I will save them for another ask I received.

I obviously saved the elephant in the room for last…Jay. I really don’t think the mentions and nods to him in this episode were “bad” in any way because it’s stuff that has already been said about the character…Gwen’s version of him at least, but I do think there is a reason why he is being brought up and why there are so many nods to the marriage. Hailey insisted she wasn’t angry with him in the premiere. She signed the divorce papers, sent them off, and that was that and she washed her hands of him. Except she didn’t. Because she is angry, she hasn’t moved on in the year and a half he’s been gone now, signing the papers didn’t give her any closure…hell, even him signing the papers didn’t give her any closure, (I will die on the hill that he only signed them because it’s what he thought she wanted). I personally do not think she will get any closure whatsoever if she doesn’t have a conversation with him, if she doesn’t confront him and all of it head on…the anger and resentment and confusion and the love that is still there. You can’t turn that shit off. You can’t just push it away and be like, “okay, I’m done with you now, goodbye.” Life doesn’t work that way. Emotions don’t work that way. Grief sure as shit doesn’t work that way, and I feel like that is the stage Hailey is stuck in right now. Grieving the loss of Jay and her marriage and stuck in a limbo that she doesn’t know how to navigate on her own while dealing with childhood trauma that she actually isn’t really dealing with at all. And she is without a doubt on her own. That is the one thing that has been made clear this season. She has no family, not any friends other than co-workers, and right now, she doesn’t have Jay. I respect the “independent woman, gonna stand on my own, I don’t need anyone” mindset, but I don’t agree with how we got here and I also don’t fully agree with the notion that she doesn’t need anyone because everyone needs someone. You can’t do life alone. You need someone in your corner, someone by your side, someone who gets you in ways you don’t even know yourself, and for Hailey, that person is and will always be Jay Halstead. I think she will realize she needs to get out of Chicago like her brothers, like Jay, like Will, and I hope that wherever she ends up, Jay is there waiting for her and the two of them can just start over without Chicago and their past looming over them like a dark cloud. And for the love of God, let them both go to therapy…together and separately.

Brenna Malloy directed and it was just…perfect. True cinema if you will. The close-ups of the actors’ faces during certain scenes and how the camera would pan to them at just the exact right moment for a reaction, the no background noise and intentional pauses during scenes that allowed moments to feel heavier and more real, the ending shot of Hailey and her teary eyes…I feel like it was a story that was so delicately handled and crafted by Brenna, and I’m just really impressed.

Tracy Spiridakos. I mean, what more even needs to be said? The woman is a powerhouse. It always amazes me knowing how much of a goof she is on set and then you watch an episode like this and it’s just like…WOW. Her range of emotion and the way she makes you feel every single one of those emotions is truly something that needs to be studied. You cry with her, you smile with her, you laugh with her, but the biggest thing is you feel for her character, and I think that is something that not all actors are capable of doing with an audience. Tracy knocks it out of the park, across the highway, into the next town every time, and her execution is consistent every time as well. No one is doing it like her, and I love and respect the hell out of that woman and her talent.

I think the same also needs to be said for Bojana Novakovic. I have been surprisingly impressed by her and kind of adore her. I’ve really been enjoying the character of Josephine Petrovic and I hate that she’s only coming into the show now right when Tracy is walking out the door because Bojana alone is incredible, but her and Tracy together? It’s like magic to me. Their chemistry as scene partners and the way they bounce off each other is absolutely insane, and then their ability to pull you in and keep you locked in…ooof. I think it’s something special and I’ve really enjoyed seeing them together on-screen.

As for how I feel…

I feel good? Okay? The episode didn’t do much for me in the grand scheme of “what is Hailey gonna do” or “what’s gonna happen” because we already anticipated her leaving Chicago. That wasn’t ever in question. But the actual reason for Hailey leaving is still muddled to me, even more so because she hasn’t resolved anything in her life. She still has these demons, a past filled with trauma she hasn’t found peace with, she has no closure with Jay, she has questions and zero answers, and she is already and literally running from her problems.

So, is she supposed to leave Chicago and start over somewhere and her problems are just gonna go poof? Magically disappear? Because that’s not how that works, and I think that would be yet another injustice to the character and more lazy writing. I do think the episode (finally!) laid the groundwork for Tracy’s exit, but it should have started in episode 1, not 10. Tracy gave them an entire season to wrap up Hailey’s story, and I feel like they wasted so much time and it’s gonna be another rushed exit once the curtain falls. It’s not that I’m surprised in that regard, but I am disappointed (again!) especially considering how much of a fuss Gwen made about “it’s so generous of Tracy to give us a whole season.”

If Gwen’s plan was to make Hailey’s exit about her family and her childhood trauma then the seed should have been planted long before now, and Jay shouldn’t still be a sore subject for her. I think we’re in for a really emotional ending to the season, not just for Hailey, but for the first time since season eight I’m actually looking forward to a finale again.

In conclusion and a very long story short…I loved the episode, but Gwen Sigan is still on my shit list.

#hailey upton #chicago pd #upstead #jay halstead #tracy spiridakos #gwen sigan #bojana novakovic #unofficial review

[snitchcrimsonwrites]

Maybe pt. 4

Pairing: Norm MacLean X Female Reader or OC if you squint

Former friends to a relationship?

Life is pretty easy in Vault 33 until you're trying to rekindle a former friendship and Raiders attack. Now, our main characters are trying to navigate newfound feelings, all while undercovering the mysteries of Vault 33. Stay tuned. Follows the main storyline of season 1; some events may be reordered for plot.

We were supposed to get the big Vault 32 reveal, but this chapter just kept getting longer, so I had to cut it off at some point. Sorry!

Part 1 Here

Part 2 Here

Part 3 Here

Part 5 Here

The workday was over, and you were ready to get home and relax. You headed down the Vault corridor toward your residence, your mind already planning your evening. Maybe you’d watch a movie, you thought as you entered the pin code to unlock the door. The pressurized door mechanism opened with a rush of air, revealing your main living space. You immediately noticed something had changed since you left this morning. Huh, I don’t remember leaving you here. 

A single book rested atop your kitchen table; you didn’t recognize the cover. Puzzled, you reached for the book and flipped it open, trying to jog your memory; as you did, a folded piece of paper fell onto the table. 

The paper read, Courtesy of Overseer MacLean ‘s private library—our little secret. N

You flip the cover over and take a better look. You smile. Of course, it’s a Western.

__________________________

The day of Lucy’s wedding had finally arrived. Most in the Vault couldn’t contain their excitement and curiosity. Everyone was interested to see the results of Triennial Trade. Who was this 32 dweller who would be married to their community? The speculation was endless, but the residents of 33 would have to wait until the ceremony. 

Norm, on the other hand, was wrestling with a different conundrum this morning. He picked up the folded paper atop his dresser and opened it to re-read the contents.

Courtesy of Overseer MacLean ‘s private library—our little secret. N

For a sickeningly sweet gesture, I, (Y/N), owe you, Norman MacLean, one activity of your choosing. 

 You will ask her. Don’t chicken out, he repeats to his reflection in the bedroom mirror above the dresser. Whether to ask (Y/N) to dance at Lucy’s wedding has weighed on him for several days. Does she even want me to ask? Would she be embarrassed if I did this in front of everyone? Then what if I don’t ask? Would she be disappointed? This was all too much. Decision fatigue plagued him. He’d read the room. He'd go for it if she seemed interested and the opportunity presented itself. 

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

The residents of Vault 33 congregated in the atrium's main square, waiting for Lucy to make her grand entrance. Norm could hear little snippets of separate conversations blending into one. 

“The decorations look beautiful!” “I’m so glad the sunflowers bloomed in time for the ceremony. We were getting worried.” “Should I have done something different with my hair?” “Do you think he’ll get the hint and ask me to dance?” 

He glances around to see if he can spot you among the other vault dwellers; when he does, the room goes silent. Confused, he turns around to see the source of the crowd’s change in demeanor.  

Lucy’s appearance in the upper balcony quieted the crowd. 

Norm watches as she comes down the stairs into the main square to greet the onlookers. He can see everyone smiling at the sight of the young woman in her wedding dress, including his dad. 

“Dad,” she chuckles. Stepping forward so he can admire his little girl. 

“My little sugar bomb,” their dad says as he embraces her.

“Gosh, you look just like your mother,” pride exuding from his voice. 

“Yeah, I wish she was here.” 

“Me too.” 

“Were you scared?” “When you married mom?” Norm hears Lucy ask. 

“Me?” he scoffs. “Terrified. I’d never set foot outside of Vault 31.” 

“When did it go away?” 

“The moment I met your mother.” 

How Norm wished his mother could be here to see this day. While today is supposed to be happy, her absence creates a veil of sadness he can see behind Lucy and his father’s eyes. She was supposed to be here to witness her daughter get married, to see them both grow up. He tries to push the sad thoughts and focus on the moment. If he cried on her wedding day, Lucy would never let him live it down.

“From that moment on, Vault 31 was a distant memory.” Hank continued. 

��Overseer, it’s time,” Betty announces to the pair. They take that as their cue, Hank extending his arm to his daughter and the remainder of the group filing in behind them. Norm takes his spot directly behind his Dad and Lucy. You notice and follow suit a few steps behind. 

As the group approaches the vault corridor connecting Vault 32 and 33 opens with a whoosh, and they begin the walk that will change their lives forever. 

Norm shuffles ahead quickly to end up beside his sister. He can’t pass up the opportunity to engage in some sibling teasing.

“Must be nerve-racking. Your husband could be anybody.” 

“I’m aware,” Lucy retorts. Rolling her eyes at his teasing. 

“And as for his looks?”

“Who knows?” she replies. Norm is impressed; she seems remarkably nonchalant in her response. He decides to take it up a notch. 

“Big butt? No butt? But of course, they are just superficial concerns. It’s what’s on the inside that counts.” 

“That’s right!” their dad affirms, looking back at his children, hoping they will give it a rest today, of all days. 

“And in that respect, he could be a cannibal or just like crammed full of tumors.” Norm barely gets the words out before Lucy swats him with her bouquet.   

“Norman.” Hank scolds. 

“Sorry, Dad,” Norm concedes. 

Finally, they’re outside the main entrance of Vault 32. Showtime. 

Hank checks his Pip-Boy and gives Chet the okay to open the gate. Norm was surprised at his composure, given the situation. Everyone in Vault 33 knows he’s down bad for his sister. He and (Y/N) expected at least some reaction from Chet today. 

Chet connects his Pip-Boy to the mag lock. Nothing happens. 

“Honestly…” Chet sighs.” It's a Textbook tumbler jam. It’s going to take some time to fix.” 

There is it, Norm thinks. He’s SO not okay with this. Norm snickers internally and turns around to catch your eye. You return his glance as if to say, we SO called it. 

Lucy steps over to take control of the situation, and after a few hushed exchanges, Chet relents. 

The alarms sound, and the door to Vault 32 rolls back, revealing the residents out from behind its cover. 

Norm watched as his dad stepped in front of the group from 33 to welcome their new guests. 

“Welcome neighbors from Vault 32.” He says with outstretched arms. “ I am Hank MacLean, Overseer of Vault 33.” 

A dark-haired woman steps forward in matching fashion. 

“Lee Moldaver, Overseer of 32. Thank you for your hospitality.” 

“Oh, we were sorry to hear of Overseer Jackson’s passing in your telegrams.”

“When blight hit our wheat, we lost a lot of good people, but this trade will help get us back on our feet.” 

Norm frowned as he heard the words leave the opposing Overseer’s mouth. Why did she have to phrase it like that? Disdain bubbled up into his throat. Moldaver’s words made this whole event seem purely transactional. He means he knows it IS a transaction between vaults, meant to keep those in the vaults surviving, but these were people, and that was his sister. His sister, whom someone loosely compared to a few bushels of wheat. Only he was allowed to comment on his sister that way. When he did it, it was just two siblings mocking one another; when an outsider does it, it’s a step too far. 

Norm was so caught up in analyzing Moldaver’s words that he missed the remainder of the Overseers’ exchange. Suddenly, a rather scruffy 32 dweller stood out before both groups—Lucy’s new husband. 

Overseer MacLean was the one to break the ice. “Now that we’re acquainted, if everyone can move into the main square of the atrium, we can begin the ceremony,” ushering everyone to move back through the vault entrance. 

Norm hangs back from the front of the crowd to walk back with you. 

“Lucy seemed particularly happy with her new husband,” you comment. 

“Yeah, she's a little too happy. I still hope he has one ridiculously unexpected flaw, like being massively afraid of the dark. So bad he has to sleep with the lights on or maybe a nightlight, just to make things interesting.” 

“You’re incorrigible,” you reply, shaking your head.

______________________________

The ceremony was completed, and everyone took their seats at the picnic tables in Vault 33’s atrium. You couldn’t help but look around and admire the decorations. The “outdoor” space always turns out lovely when decorated for weddings. It was the same with Steph’s wedding two years prior. 

You continue taking everything in from your seat, focusing to admire the various spots decorated around the Vault’s main space. You spy Norm at an opposing table with Vault 32’s Overseer. You suppose his dad might have placed him there strategically, perhaps as a political test; it wouldn’t be surprising that he’d want his son to follow in his footsteps as Overseer. That would be quite the sight. Norm had the potential without question; you weren’t sure he wanted the responsibility. He catches you staring and gives you an awkward wave back. 

You flash him a toothy smile in return. It’s becoming harder to ignore how much your feelings for Norm have grown. In just a few short weeks, you went from hardly giving him a second thought to having him consume your waking thoughts. While you two were generally ignoring each other, it was easy not to notice how much he had grown into his features, and you couldn’t deny you found them attractive. Handsome. Not to mention how he has always made you feel comfortable being yourself around him. No masking, no walls, just you. Would becoming more than friends ruin your dynamic? Was his friendship something you'd risk?

You didn’t get more time to dwell on your feelings as Overseer MacLean started his speech from atop the stage. You redirected your drifting attention. 

“Good evening, and welcome to the proud denizens of Vault 32. We are bonded not just as neighbors but by a shared duty. To keep the candle of civilization lit. While the rest of the world has been cast into darkness. Soon, if our measurements are correct, radiation levels on the surface are dropping fast enough that the next generation, Lucy and Monty’s children, will be able to recolonize.”

 Your fellow Vault 33 neighbors erupt into cheers and applause while the other Overseer, Moldaver? visibly tenses. Huh. Maybe she’s just as afraid of Reclamation as some of other dwellers. The whole concept is terrifying enough for people who have never left the safety of the Vault. 

Overseer MacLean continues as the volume from the crowd subsides.

“After 200 years, we don’t know much about what’s up there: desperation, violence, lawlessness. These survivors will need to be shown a better way. I’ll admit sometimes I’m afraid that mean old world will change us instead. But then I look at my daughter, who’s such a beautiful bride, and her new husband. And I am not afraid. I feel hope. To Lucy MacLean. And to this marriage. And to hope!” 

Another round of celebration emanates from the Vault dwellers, and he starts off stage—but not without one final decree: “Let’s dance! Hit it.” 

The command stirs the jukebox to life, playing “Some Enchanted Evening,” and the Overseer extends a hand out to Lucy for their father-daughter dance. 

♫ Who can explain it?

Who can tell you why?

Fools give you reasons,

Wise men never try. ♫

As you watch Lucy’s tender moment with her dad, you cannot help but feel a tinge of sadness for a moment you’ll never have. They’ve become fewer and farther between, but times like this really make you miss your dad. You continue to watch them pushing out the feelings of jealousy and embracing the joy you felt for your friend. 

Suddenly, they break apart. Urging another off to the side to join them. Norm. You see him shake his head disapprovingly but gets to his feet anyway; he knows a losing battle when he sees one. Soon, all three of them are on the dancefloor, embracing and swaying to the music. You think your heart might melt at the sight. 

♫  Some enchanted evening

When you find your true love,

When you feel her call you

Across a crowded room, ♫

As the MacLeans start to separate from their family moment, Lucy notices your presence off to the side of the dancefloor and flashes you a “stay here there, I’m coming to you” gesture with her hands as she heads in your direction. You embrace her in a celebratory hug when she makes it to you. 

“Congratulations!” you offer up enthusiastically. “You make a stunning bride.”

“Thank you! It’s all so exciting, isn’t it?!” she says, matching your tone. She shifts her position slightly, taking your hands and moving her mouth closer to your ear. In a whisper, she asks, “ I was hoping to ask if you’d do my brother the honor of sharing a dance?” She pulled back into your line of sight, completing the request with a signature Lucy puppy-dog stare. “Consider it my wedding present.”

“How could I say no to that?” you respond with a laugh. Still holding your hands and smiling ear to ear, Lucy ushers you back to her family. 

♫ Then fly to her side,

And make her your own

For all through your life you

May dream all alone. ♫

As the two of you approach, you can see Overseer MacLean gently elbow-nudging a mortified-looking Norm. 

“I saw (Y/N) by herself on the edge of the dancefloor and thought someone might like to invite her to dance?” Lucy says as she offers your hand up to Norm. 

“I’d be happy to,” he replies, taking hold of your hand to lead you onto the dance floor. With a surprising amount of flourish, he pulls the two of you into a traditional slow dance pose, his right hand in yours and left hand resting softly on your waist. Your bodies tucked unexpectedly close against one another. 

“Sorry about that,” Norm pips up, shooting daggers in Lucy’s general direction, which she returns, blowing him a kiss back. “You know how she can be when she gets an idea in her head—unrelenting.” 

“I don’t mind; I was actually hoping you’d ask. Your sister just guaranteed the odds.” 

He looks up at you, and his expression softens. You two fall into a comfortable silence, enjoying the moment and each other’s company. Swaying back and forth to the music, the world melts away behind you. It’s short-lived, though, as the Overseer makes his way back towards you and his son. 

“Sorry, I will need to steal Norm away for a second,” the Overseer states as he places a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Just one family photo, and I’ll give him back,” he reassures you with a wink. 

“Not a problem,” you manage, hiding your obvious disappointment. 

“Find you after.” Norm declares, keeping a loose grasp on your hand as the two of you pull away, clearly not wanting to let go just yet. 

You give him a nod, relinquishing his hand. 

♫ Some enchanted evening ♫

#norm maclean #norm maclean x oc #norm maclean x reader #fallout tv series

[buckyownsmylife]

let the games begin - sebastian stan smut

The one where you ask him to explain the pepsi cup scene to you

Warnings: best friends to lovers, best friend!reader, hopelessly in love!Seb, reader has hair long enough for Seb to “play with” but do with that as you wish, innocent!reader, smut.

WC: 1.8k

A/N: this is just a sweet little smutty one-shot of best friend!Seb realizing you feel the same for him. I didn't delve deep into the smut because to be honest, this has been in my WIP list since the movie came out and I just couldn't be bothered to write more than what's here, yet I hope you'll enjoy it anyway!

Seb’s P.O.V.

“You ready for this? You know we don’t have to watch it, right?” I tried to convince her one more time, and still, she just rolled her eyes and pulled me to the sofa next to her. Oh, how I loved to feel her smaller frame tightly pressed against mine.

“Don’t be silly, of course I want to watch it. I’ve seen everything you’ve ever done, I can’t let one slightly scarring movie keep me away from this long standing tradition.” It warmed my heart to think that she’d been doing this way before we even met.

I kissed her temple before adjusting so her body would rest against my chest, and settled in for the film. I knew it would be an experience, to say the least, watching this with her, so I tried to prepare myself for anything that could happen.

She could end up traumatized and unable to look me in the eye. At the very least, it would certainly serve as ammunition for her to tease me for years to come, and that was one turn of events I could deal with. The first one was my real concern.

So I settled in to watch the movie, because I figured it would be best to be around than to wait for her reactions afterwards. What if she never wanted to see me again? I knew it was just my anxiety coming up with the worst possibilities, but it still scared the crap out of me.

I couldn’t imagine my life without her anymore. And maybe one day I’d grow the courage to tell her about it, but for now, I was perfectly happy just sitting here with her and offering some support when my character started to freak her out.

“Hey, there you are!” She giggled in excitement, pointing at the TV like I wasn’t watching it with her. It made me chuckle, seeing her act like a little kid when it came to me doing my job. God, she was precious.

“Yeah, there I am,” I agreed, leaning over her to deposit a quick kiss against her temple, but much to my surprise all I got was a nudge and a hush. “Are you shushing me?” She finally unglued her eyes from the television to look at me with disappointment all over her features.

“Seb, I love you, but if you keep interrupting the movie, I’m gonna kick you out and there’s nothing you can do about that.” I wanted to point out that if she did, she’d have to watch it by herself and there was no way she’d be able to sleep, but I didn’t want to risk her fury. So I just sat back and pulled her with me, playing with her hair as I watched the story unfold before my eyes.

For whatever reason, I seemed to forget that I looked a bit… different in my role at some point, and as I gained weight before our eyes, she turned around to look at me with a look I couldn’t figure out. It made me nervous.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I had to ask, but she didn’t immediately answer me. I felt embarrassed, it was almost like she was comparing me to the man on the screen, and I didn’t know which one she preferred. 

Could it be that now that she’d seen me like that, she couldn’t unsee it?

“I’ve always thought you looked better when Don wasn’t trying to make you look like some sort of bodybuilder, but this role just confirmed it to me. You’re even sexier with some weight on your body.” 

My cheeks burned, and I didn’t know what to say. So I just cuddled her to me once more, focusing on the screen as I tried to work through my emotions - and there were many. Desire, barely concealed lust, something the hardening member inside my jeans wouldn’t let me forget - but also something warm and comfortable, settling deep inside my chest.

I didn’t want to give it a name. So I just pulled her to me yet again, kissed her temple and pretended to go back to watching the movie, while I waited for her attention to be redirected to it once more. When I was sure she wasn’t noticing me anymore, I got back to analyzing her reactions, chuckling under my breath at the way hers hitched at every little thing, and how she squeezed my thigh when she thought something scary would happen.

And then the car scene started. My muscles immediately froze underneath her, having completely forgotten about this particular part of the movie.

“What’s going on?” She asked, first surprised and then confused. “Is everything okay?” I couldn’t answer her. I couldn’t even look away from the screen, flinching as it developed right before my eyes. It was like my own self-made train wreck: unavoidable and paralyzing.

“Seb…” She reached out for my hand, asking for my attention, and I licked my lips and took a deep breath before turning to give it to her.

“I don’t get it, what’s going on?” I was about to tell her that I was just embarrassed, but the confusion in her eyes as they darted from the TV to my embarrassed self suddenly made sense to me.

“Wait,” I started, holding her jaw so she’d fix her eyes on mine and forget about the movie for a second. “You don’t understand the scene?” She hesitated for a second before nodding, biting her lower lip in that way she did when she was nervous.

It made the warmth inside my chest expand and take over my entire body, shooting straight to my lower belly, where it began to burn. 

Fuck. Who would have thought that she was so innocent?

“Do you want me to tell you?” The question left my lips before I could ponder if my concern came from a valid place - my desire to help her, always. 

But maybe things happened for a reason - maybe it was some sort of ungodly gift the idea of watching this movie together, because as I watched her glance over at the screen again and then lay her eyes on me, I saw it with perfect clarity:

She was aroused by it.

“Or would you like me to show you?” Another question that slipped from my lips unintentionally, another sentence I didn’t regret speaking. This… tension, it had always been here, between the both of us. I’d been too much of a coward to act on it before so if the ball was on my court now, it was time to let it roll.

“’Cause I’d be more than happy to.” With my last reassurance, the thread between us broke, and in a second, we were kissing. Who made the first move, I’d never know. All I cared about was her taste, how sweet she was, and the tiny little whimpers I could hear escaping her when I had to pull back to take a breath.

My body still acting of its own accord, I got up from the couch to take my pants off, hand immediately going to my hardness to release some of the frustration she was causing me. Thankfully, she didn’t seem scared - just hungry, looking at me with doe eyes and biting down on her lower lip before I pulled her closer so that her hand rested over mine.

“Fuck…” I whispered against her neck at the first contact of her hand on my naked dick, but for some reason that was all it took for the spell to break.

“Seb, I can’t…” She pulled away from me, chest still heaving from desire, but I felt so damn guilty I couldn’t even feel good about it. “I can’t do this and then pretend that it didn’t happen.”

Y/N’s P.O.V.

His face softened up instead of becoming angry, like I expected it would. “Come.” He got up from the couch, offering me his hand, which I took without second-guessing myself.

His eyes told me everything I needed to know.

He took me to his bed, where he kissed me deeply once again. “Don’t worry, I’ll be patient.” How could I say that I’d let him do anything to me?

Within seconds, I was naked. It was unlike any other similar experience I’d ever lived, and the way he stared at me only had me falling deeper into the cloud of comfort that only Seb could provide me.

“Spread your legs for me, honey.” I did so instinctively, also closing my eyes in nervousness at what was happening.

“Keep looking at me,” he asked, and so I reopened my eyes, finding him staring at my most private spot with hunger in his. “Fuck, you’re soaked.”

Before I could comprehend what was happening, he’d yanked me to the edge of the bed and proceeded to kneel down before me, lips kissing my inner thighs and navel while I panted softly.

“Fuck, I can’t believe that I get to taste you,” he uttered before his tongue stuck out and he did just that… He tasted me, and nothing had ever felt quite as great as that simple gesture.

“How does it feel, sweetheart?” He asked in the midst of attacking my clit with his tongue and lips, the hot muscle swirling over it and making my head spin. “Do you like this?”

“Yes, yes!” I nodded, hand flying down to hold him by the hair and keep him attached to me. “More, I want more.”

“What?” He teased me, the devious thing. “You want what?”

“More,” I insisted, pushing him down so his face would connect with my pussy once more. He didn’t keep up with his pretense and kept on licking me until I saw stars behind my closed eyelids, screaming his name for dear life.

“Kiss me,” I begged breathlessly once I was able to speak again, and he leaned over me to grant me my wish, allowing me to taste myself for the first time in my life.

“You know…” I struggled to find the courage to say what I wanted, but I knew I could trust Sebastian. “When we actually do it, you don’t need to be so gentle…”

He bit my shoulder in response, shaking his head at my antics. I thought I was dreaming, being naked in his bed, having just had the best orgasm of my life.

I wanted to do this for the rest of my life.

“I don’t want to go to sleep tonight,” I confessed, watching as the most beautiful smile opened up in my best friend’s face.

“Lucky for you, there are a ton of things we can do to pass the time.”

#my fics #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan #smut #rpf #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan reader smut

[lurkingshan]

Unknown Episode 12

This the end beautiful friends. And I wouldn't say the show is going out with a whimper, exactly, but it's certainly not with a bang. This will remain one of my all time favorite Taiwanese dramas, but I will definitely be remembering it as being so so excellent for 10 exquisite episodes that built to such a beautiful peak and then inexplicably blew it on the dismount.

We already talked about episode 11 and the sex scene blunder, as well as some of the other missed beats there. Episode 12 moved on from the immediate aftermath of Yuan and Qian getting together to give us a sense of what their lives will look like now that they are together. One thing I definitely appreciated is that they aren't hiding this from anyone--they are taking the no shame approach to the change in their relationship, and I love that. I don't know that I entirely bought how brazen they were being, though. Making out in the open office space where Qian's employees could see seemed a bit much even if they weren't brothers, and given that the show didn't portray any awkwardness or any of Qian's expected discomfort with this big shift in their relationship, it came across a little silly and dismissive of how serious a change this should be for them. I would have really enjoyed Yuan threatening Qian with kisses if it had been a more private moment. And I deeply hated the top/bottom discussion amongst the fujoshi coworkers, that was just in poor taste and out of step with the tone of the show (can we just ban bls from doing scenes like this already?).

This final episode also failed to meaningfully resolve Qian's health issue in favor of introducing a new plot: Lili's accidental pregnancy. I have mixed feelings about this development. On the one hand, it helps to reinforce a theme of this family's resilience and ensures they will have a family legacy, and it led to hands down my favorite scene in the episode, which was the family discussion where they were moving between the bedrooms as Qian learned of the pregnancy, promised not to attack San Pang, and then immediately attacked San Pang when he stopped hiding. That was comedy gold and the cast was so excellent in every beat of it. On the other hand, I don't love this plot direction for Lili and I don't think the show really did anything to reckon with what a monumental wrench it will throw into her life plans (note that this is another departure from the book, where Lili ends the story a successful jet setting model who is still single and living her ideal life traveling for work). Lili wants a career in fashion modeling and entertainment; how exactly does having a child at age 23 fit with those goals? The show didn't even bother to consider her future in the way this story was framed. I would have preferred a time skip to do this plot at a more appropriate time for her; as it was this just felt a little careless.

In the end I am glad we got to see the family accept each other's relationships and Qian and Yuan settling into living alone together in the home they love, but I do wish the final two episodes had lived up to the promise of the rest. It felt like the first 10 episodes built so beautifully to a monumental relationship change, and then the show just kinda shrugged their way through the actual change in favor of random new plots and a list of ill-fitting Taiwanese bl tropes. After everything they went through, all tension evaporated instantly, no one was uncomfortable with the relationship becoming romantic, and there was no real nuance in the family discussion about it. They simply didn’t finish the story they started and given they had such strong material to work with from the novel, I will never understand why.

That said, even with a lackluster ending I will always be grateful that we got this gem of a show. Despite its flaws, this story contains some of my all-time favorite characters and relationships. Hats off to the cast and crew for delivering one of my favorite dramas of the year. And I want to also thank the folks on here who made discussion of this show every week so fun. We are a tiny little fandom but the love and devotion to this show was so lovely, and I am extra grateful to those who stuck to the weekly pact for the final episodes so we could keep posting and talking about this story for a couple more weeks. I hope we find another show to love together very soon!

#unknown the series #taiwanese bl #shan shouts into the void

[crow-hoards-things]

The Bad Batch Series Finale

FULL DISCLOSURE: This is a vent post. I’m angry and hurt. After I get this out of my system I’ll be more open to discussing the positives of the episode.

Warnings: Ranting, Spoilers

Hooo boy. Okay. I am… less than satisfied?

Quick rundown since I haven’t posted much of anything Bad Batch related: Tech is my favorite Batch member, immediately followed by Crosshair. I’m also a HUGE Republic Commando Nerd (read all the books, played the game, despised Bad Batch as a whole initially because I felt the commandos were being unfairly ignored, can sing + translate Vode An, etc.) and Scorch was my favorite Delta. The Bad Batch grew on me shortly after Season 1 finished up, and I immediately latched onto Tech when I began watching. He’s the reason I watched the first two seasons. (Crosshair + delusions about Tech were the combined force behind watching the final season)

NOW, onto my actual thoughts on the episode, in no semblance of order because my brain is still trying to process, Ft. Cry count:

• Wish Tech was here. He would’ve loved the Zillo being freed.

• “‘Cause I’d do the same thing” no you wouldn’t. Fives would’ve. The you I fell in love with would’ve yelled at Fives about it being a terrible idea and then promptly gone along with it anyway. That said it was a really cute moment and I loved his nonchalant little “come on” afterwards.

• C: “Echo or Omega?” W&H: “Omega” THEY KNOW THEIR GIRL SO WELL

• When Hemlock went to get the operatives I got excited thinking maybe, just maybe we’d get Tech back.

• CROSSHAIR LOST HIS FREAKING HAND!?!? WHAT THE HECK!?! I will never stop being salty about this. He’s been through enough. [Near Tears]

• Rampart sucks

• Nala Se got to blow stuff up and I appreciate that even if I don’t really like her

• I’m glad Wrecker’s okay. He had me scared for a bit. Hunter, conversely, never really did? He’s Omega’s Dad, he had to survive.

• Did anybody else see that one operative whose helmet seemingly had goggles built into it? We had a lingering shot on his helmet for a few seconds and they looked like a red version of Tech’s goggles.

• SCORCH IS DEAD AND YOU’D BETTER BELIEVE I’M MAD ABOUT IT! [First shedding of tears]

• HECK YEAH, HEMLOCK IS DEAD!!! [Tears of relief combined with grief over Scorch]

• I’m so glad Omega hugged Crosshair first. I fully expected her to just run to Hunter, and Crosshair needed that hug.

• Echo’s goodbye was disrespectful. 0/10. He’s family and they don’t even care that he’s leaving???

• SOMEONE IS MISSING FROM OUR NICE LITTLE GROUP SHOT!

• I never really got super invested in the dynamic between Omega and Hunter, but the ending between them was cute I guess.

• We were robbed. We could’ve gotten Crosshair and Wrecker as old men and we were robbed.

• Tech is dead. Like, seriously, really and truly, dead. As a delusional “Tech’s alive guys, trust me” fan, it feels like he just died all over again. I’ll talk more about this later because I’m not over it. [Que sob-fest]

alright, circling back around to my main gripes, in order of appearance:

#1. Scorch.

I hate how they handled him. At first when he showed up I got super excited. That was my boy! In the Bad Batch show!! He’s making an appearance!!! Maybe they’ll do something with the Delta boys!!

Even as the episodes went on and I started to suspect where his path was leading, I consistently would go “Scorch!!! <3” every episode, because that is my boy and I love him dearly.

The levels of offended I am on Scorch’s behalf are not within my ability to express with words. The complete and utter disrespect he was shown over his time on the show is appalling. Why bring him in if you’re going to drain him of all his personality, make him have zero plot relevance, and then murder him?! They could easily have made a new clone for that, as seen by the number of operatives who exist and got 0.5 minutes of screen time.

But no. They brought in a beloved character with 10 seconds of canonical screen time prior, stripped him of everything that made him lovable, didn’t even have him DO ANYTHING, and then murdered him. It feels like a spit in the face and a kick to the gut all at once.

I will mourn. I’ve already cried and I’ll probably cry again. But right now I’m angry and I think Scorch deserves to have people be angry about how he was treated.

#2. Tech

Yes. I admit to having been a “trust me guys, Tech’s alive” person. I will also admit that at the end of episode 13 I wanted him to stay dead because I had zero faith they could satisfactorily bring him back.

My gripe is not with him staying dead. Yes, it feels like losing him all over again. Yes, I will mourn him again. Yes. That sucks. It’s not what’s making me mad.

What makes me mad is how his death was handled.

• It served ZERO purpose narratively other than to up the stakes and make us worry about whether anyone else would die (Spoiler alert: They didn’t. Tech was the only one who died) • Nobody mourned him. No one seemed affected by his death at all. No one cared. I don’t care what anyone says, that will NEVER be okay. • The first actual mention of Tech *dying* was in the finale. Sure, we’ve had name drops and goggle appearances, but actually talking about what happened? One line. One. Freaking. Line.

I feel like I’ve been slapped in the face, you know? He deserved better and so did we. He was a part of that family and they couldn’t even be bothered to address the responses to his death. He was beloved by many of us and they couldn’t even respect him or his fans enough to treat his death like something to be mourned.

That’s wrong, no matter how you look at it.

#Crow’s cawing #star wars the bad batch #the bad batch #star wars tbb #Star Wars The Bad Batch Tech #tbb tech #star wars republic commando #republic commando #tbb scorch #clone commando #clone commando scorch #tbb spoilers #Star Wars The Bad Batch spoilers #spoilers

[pomefioredove]

i crave angst and hurt/comfort/fluff maybe something like that with vil? maybe reader gets hurt pretty badly or something and vil gets upset?? hehe angsty scenarios>>

on my hands and knees rn... vil... save me vil...

summary: anger is an ugly emotion type of post: fic characters: vil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, angsty..... mentions of bullying/abuse etc?? very open ended you can interpret that how you please, GOD this is indulgent

Anger is an ugly emotion.

So much is true even for Vil Schoenheit. If you asked him, there is nothing more undignified than losing your composure in front of others, especially those under your care.

No, Vil keeps such emotions to himself. If he feels the need to get a point across, or to settle a conflict, he will do so with grace and dignity. He won't even break a nail.

This is different.

This is seeing you turn away from him with tears in your eyes, and feeling as if the very world itself is crashing down around him.

He cannot stand it.

He cannot stand seeing you like this.

It shakes him to his very core. You've had bad days, evenings where you come crawling into Pomefiore looking as if the world had chewed you up and spit you back out at his feet, and he's tended to it.

He's combed your hair, cleaned the dirt out from under you nails, bandaged your paper cuts with a sort of gentleness he doesn't even reserve for himself, made you look new and whole again.

Vil can't help with this.

It drives him mad. It makes him feel like he's stuck inside his own ribcage with nothing but the sound of his beating heart, trapped in a flurry of confusion and anxiety.

He wishes you would just talk about it. It would make everything so much easier if you would let him help.

But he won't pressure you. He couldn't bring himself to. And, quite frankly, if he knew even the slightest detail about whomever had been making you feel this way, he was afraid he wouldn't be able to stop himself from finding them and mincing them to shreds.

As they deserved.

But Vil is not one to rush into anything. He is patient, cordial, taking his sweet time to understand a problem from all angles before enacting a solution.

And so, he doesn't ask.

He holds your chin between his delicate fingers and dabs at the corners of your eyes, hoping to brush away your misery along with your tears.

You sniffle. It's not a pretty sight- you're certainly no graceful crier.

He couldn't care less.

The only thing that Vil can think of now is how only one measly person could be your undoing.

After everything you've been through without even breaking a sweat, all it took were a few too-familiar words to melt you into a pool of bad memories and misery at his feet.

Sevens help whichever poor fool had done this to you.

"Now, now. That's alright," he coos, wiping your cheeks just as a new barrage of tears runs down them. "Don't worry about a thing."

You just barely manage to choke out a response. "I'm sorry, this is- this is embarrassing,"

"Nonsense. You have nothing to feel bad for. I promise I won't utter a word of this to the others,"

He cups your face in his palms, giving you a moment to compose yourself.

"Deep breaths," he instructs. "Seven seconds in, hold it, for just a moment, and then seven seconds out. There. Excellent job."

It's quiet. The sound of sobs and his own heart pounding seem to fade into quiet breaths shared between the both of you.

"Good," he strokes your cheeks with his thumbs. A repetitive, soothing motion. "How do you feel?"

"Guilty," you say. "I didn't mean to ruin your evening."

"You've ruined nothing. You're very important to me, you know. I would never want you to think I'm too busy for you," he offers a smile. "Now, how do you feel?"

You're quiet for a moment, likely mulling over his words. Your voice is softer when you reply. "Tired,"

"Oh... you poor thing. I can't have you dead on your feet tomorrow, now, can I?"

You shake your head.

He stands, pulling you up with him. "Come along, then. Let's get you to bed. I'll help,"

He begins guiding you away from the couch you'd spent the better half of the evening sobbing on. You respond in a quiet voice.

"Vil?"

"Mm? Yes?"

"You promise you won't say anything about this to the others?"

A look of utter softness crosses his face at your request, and he smiles again. "My lips are sealed,"

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #lalala #queued

[cosmichorrorsarestillnicerthanme]

I got a Rwby ask for ya for Yang Xiao long, Weiss schnee and Nora Valkyrie with a Male S/O that's Shy like Kobeni from chainsaw man and seems to downplay himself when in actuality he's incredibly strong. I just wanna see His girly just smother him in affection and won't allow him to talk down on himself

I had a fun time writing this, though I'm not sure If I did all to well on it as I'm not really sure if I have a firm grasp of everyone's characters, not to mention I was half asleep when writing most of this.

Now! Your wish is my command!

Yang had to admit, she wasn’t really sure about you when the two of you first met.

You floundered every time someone talked to you, jumped at every little noise, and yet you came “Highly recommended” as a temporary replacement for Ruby while she was out with a cold.

She didn’t understand why, at least until the first time she saw you fight a pack of Grimm.

It was… efficient.

That way the only word Yang could think to describe the fight, if it could even be called that.

You cut ligaments and veins, snapped and crushed bone, tore limbs away from the body and as soon as one began to drop the next was being disassembled.

It was an exciting display.

But still, you could’ve left a few of them for her to show off on.

Oh well, it’ll have to wait until next time.

The next group of Grimm was almost instantly cut to ribbons.

The following one was ripped to shreds.

It was around here that you apologized for being so “Slow”.

At this, Yang felt like she should grab you by the collar and shake you like a stuffed toy.

Slow?

SLOW!?

This was you going SLOW!?

What the hell was fast then!?

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Needless to say, Yang took a bit of an interest in you after that.

And seeing as you weren’t really a part of your own team, Yang asked to have you as a +1 of sorts to team RWBY.

Things snowballed after that.

Somewhere down the line Yang’s interest in you turned to infatuation and then love.

That being said, your lack of faith in yourself made her want to throttle you sometimes.

You could shred through almost any Grimm with ease.

Yet, you called yourself a “Below third rate hunter”.

She didn’t know if she wanted to hug you or strangle you every time you said that.

Then again, she could probably do both if she put her mind to it…

Weiss had heard that you had immense talent, an almost unrivaled ability to disassemble Grimm into many small pieces in record time.

You had a reputation that precedes you, even Winter sang your praises as a prodigy.

Needless to say Weiss was excited when she was told that you would temporarily be joining team RWBY to cover for Ruby who ate herself into a food coma with cookies.

On one hand, she wanted to strangle the young woman.

On the other hand, she felt like giving her a hug and thanking her.

It was only when they were on the way that Weiss realized that she had no idea what to expect of you as a person.

Shortly following this realization, they arrived and were greeted by the single most frazzled and shaken creature that Weiss had ever laid eyes on.

Weiss was understandably concerned by this and asked where you were as you were supposed to be the one greeting them.

Imagine her surprise when she learned that this person who looked like they were going to shake apart at any second was the very person Winter had been singing the praises of, not to mention the same person she had been told held the current record for defeating a Grimm.

She was sure that this was some joke.

But before Weiss could properly express her indignation, everyone got to work.

Well, by everyone, Weiss means you got to work.

When the first Grimm made its appearance it was already falling to the ground in a heap of severed body parts by the time Weiss had drawn her sword.

She swore she would get the next one.

She did not get the next one, or the one after that, or the one following that one.

It infuriated her to no end.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

After this, Weiss made it her own personal mission to get to a Grimm before you did.

She got some… mixed results.

More specifically, she got to hit one, single Grimm before you obliterated it.

That was still better than she had managed to get throughout the entire day and as such, made her the person to get the second most done.

She was really wondering why in the world they hadn’t just sent you to do this on your own.

Then, when the whole expedition came to an end, you apologized for “Holding them back.”

That’s when it all clicked for Weiss.

The frazzled way you acted.

The fact you had barely said a word to anyone.

The apology.

You lacked faith in yourself.

Despite all of the talent you had, despite the fact you could dismantle a Grimm faster than the human eye could see.

You saw yourself as less than third rate.

Weiss felt a sudden kinship with you at this realization.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

After this, Weiss did her best to find a way to spend time with you, to try and get to know you.

It was an extremely difficult process, but slowly, eventually, she came to understand you.

And you came to understand her.

After that, things sort of happened between the two of you.

She, of course, was teased mercilessly by Ruby, Yang, and Blake when they found out.

They were lucky she was nice, otherwise she would have frozen them solid.

That and she was more concerned about you at the moment.

You managed to infuriate her to no end with the lack of faith you had in yourself.

She had done her best to try and get you to believe in yourself more but it was very, very slow going.

But that just meant she had to believe in you enough for the both of you.

When Nora met you for the first time, her first thought was “Wet cat”.

To be fair, at the time it was a very apt comparison as it was pouring rain and you had just returned from dealing with quite a few Grimm.

That being said, the two of you didn’t officially meet until the next afternoon.

Upon meeting you, she blurted out without any shame.

“You’re the wet cat person!”

Your only response to that was a meek “Fair.”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

After this, you and Nora became fast friends.

Well, it's more like Nora just started showing up to chat with you and you didn’t really want to argue with her about it.

Something told you she was a very stubborn person.

Nora also, on occasion, brought her other friends.

It was during one of these occasions, that she learned that you were someone rather famous.

You were the person who could take down a Grimm in under a tenth of a second.

Nora had to admit, she couldn’t really see it.

To her you were a lot like a ball of yarn that was quickly unraveling.

Then again, she has been wrong before.

However, what you said in response to this caught her attention, knocking her out of her musing.

“I’m just a third rate hunter, no one special at all. I’m sure someone could do what I did a lot faster if they wanted to.”

This told Nora two things.

The first being that you actually were the current record holder for the fastest Hunter in training.

The second was that you downplayed yourself more than was healthy.

And seeing as you were a friend of hers, she didn’t particularly like that second part.

So, Nora cleared her schedule.

She was going to make you have more faith in yourself.

By any means necessary.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

It took a week before she was ready to either beat you over the head with her hammer or crush you in a hug and smother you in kisses.

How could someone so nice and awesome have so little faith in themself?

What in the world happened to make you like this?

She was going to hurt it.

That or put a rubber band on you and snapping it every time you said something self deprecating.

That or do both.

Both sounded good to Nora right now.

#yang xiao long #weiss schnee #nora valkyrie #rwby #rwby x reader #nora valkyrie x reader #weiss schnee x reader #yang xiao long x reader #yang x reader #weiss x reader #nora x reader

[auncyen]

So I recently came across the concept of looking at social connection, nutrition, routine, sleep, and movement/exercise as the 5 pillars of mental health lately, and there's a lot of serious discussion that could be had about it

but honestly I just thought "wouldn't it be funny to just grade all the blorbos on how well that's working for them. wait, oh my god, SIFFRIN."

so with that said. the "don't take this too seriously because I only took 3 minutes to assign points" chart I made :

With each act, they are increasingly shark. He has to keep moving or something is going to go worse bad (he's fine right now! He's fine. He swears.)

But it gets better!!!

...Yeah there's still some room for improvement. But. BETTER.

(if you want the little thought that went into each category:)

social connection: Siffrin's sense of social connection is never great and they're aware (when they let themself think about it) that they're missing things and they won't let themself be open with their friends but beginning of the game it's the best they've ever known. Would probably be another character's 2 or maybe even 1 but because it's Siffrin and to simplify the chart it's 3. Deliberated on giving them a jump for act 3/first family run but that's really only the first family run and not really an improvement from pre-game. Post-game he's presumably working on opening up and the family is aware of issues.

routine: this is already a weird category to rate period (sense of routine can be good but can also be tiresome) and becomes downright hilarious in a game about time loops. Siffrin has low sense of routine period and takes relief at first from repetition/he'll never be able to forget things but then he also starts going insane from it. and then the universe starts breaking. post-game, again, the family is aware of issues and probably try to build in some positive routines and also the country is no longer cursed. still they're also traveling and like. Sif's issues. probably spotty on this for a long while

nutrition: THANK YOU SNACK LEADER FOR THE DELICIOUS SNACKS oh oh no we've eaten them too many times and also the Wish Craft might be eating away at us. Uh. Siffrin increasingly fails in this category until post-game when he can get different foods, but might still have to navigate some new issues.

sleep: that nap he woke up is still doing something even when he stops sleeping, right? right???? (I'm also head-canoning that even when they say they've stopped sleeping he's actually probably still getting some sleep in extremely short stretches, as people with insomnia tend to underestimate how much sleep they get. still. not doing great. post-game's "3" score is a mix of nightmares, insomnia, Siffrin hopefully starting to bounce back, and since the setting has anti-anxiety medication they could easily have tonics to aid sleep.)

movement: the one thing they've got going for them.

#in stars and time #in stars and time spoilers #siffrin #AGAIN: don't take this too seriously. please

[rayas-ryoiki-tenkai]

hate sex pt.1

tags: gojo/reader, 18+ minors dni, smut, grinding, gojo being a little shit, marked flashbacks, lampole is angry

parts: 1, 2 (unreleased)

•°. *࿐ - flashback

Also on AO3

"Oh please, like you know anything about pleasure besides your own..."

----

Gojo grips the flesh under your thighs to push you higher and wider, his long, deft fingers shaping your plush skin into whatever he willed so. Fingertips curling around to your hip, his palms sinking in your skin like thumbing into kneaded dough, he squeezes like he could pull off a spongy chunk of you. Satoru exhales particularly at how your flesh gives way to his, letting him in, and how his eyes gravitate to it, so simply easy to give in yet so hard to pull away.

A handprint, like he's marking you, albeit a fleeting sight for as long as he grips you. Your soft curves to the bony back of his knuckles, worlds apart, forged into one.

God, you just had to look this good. He strokes his thumb near your inner thigh and relishes in the shiver that it prompts. Why did you have to look this good? He digs that thumb into muscle.

He's not quite sure why it frustrates him - how supple you are, how your body accommodates for the way he bends you. There's a twitch between your brows, a flickering narrow at the corner of your eyes as if you're frustrated too, but it smoothes into the shape of pleasure. He's glad you lay oblivious to his staring, dumb and drunk off the alcholol and that sweet, sweet way his hip rubs against yours.

He grinds, oh how he grinds, a stiff pressure to translate the strain in his trousers. He's slow, so achingly slow, but catches the bud of nerve endings in every glorious rut. It leaves you gasping, mouth hanging as if to chase the next shot of contact. All your reserve, the feet you dig deep into the ground with a scowl, all of it melts before him, and Gojo drinks up how weak you fall.

Weak. Even beyond comparison for the strongest sorcerer. He could pluck you apart in a breath. You surely wanted to inflict as such on him over the past few years as academic rivals. Tokyo vs Kyoto. A tale as old as time. But now you're spilling 'hmm's in the shape of 'keep going's.

It's quite amusing to spot the damp swatch collecting on your panties, how it clings to your folds in a desperate plea for attention. The fabric settles in the ridges of your pussy, an aimless veil for decency, but one of the straining barriers that kept the frosted-haired freak from digging his cock into you.

Again, your expression reads, but you don't dare give it voice. All that slips are sweet gasps when his bulge presses against your clit, and you can feel just how heavy he's gotten. How big he must be. You'd give him that at least; his ego may have some reasonable substance to it, especially if he's packing a horse for a slender frame.

Fuck, it's not enough. Your eyes shoot open, and by some unfathomable force (the alcohol), you fail to latch onto the tail end of your pride and do best to plead him with your eyes. You know well he understands, that blindfold isn't fooling you. He's towering over in that midnight uniform, almost blending into the dark corners of your kitchen floor if not for the spring of blue slits from the moonlight. The blinds cut light by his jaw and down his neck, painting a pretty pale sheen in the chiseled parts of him. Like a taunt and by God does he look hauntingly beautiful.

Your brows curl to beg again. I need more. Do something.

Gojo grunts low in his chest and immediately wishes to steal back the sound. Why should he give you the honor of hearing his moments of pleasure? If you were so hell-bent on belittling him and his notoriously selfish character to the staff, then why allow erotic, tasteful sounds fall on your ears?

Look at you, he thinks, reveling in how you hopelessly bend to his will, how your eyes glaze over in desperation, anything for him to grind a little faster. Your head falls back again with a thud and your hand frantically searches for the one pushing your thighs higher. Satoru could laugh at how your fingers shake, how pitiful you look, but he doesn't. His jaw angles sharply, hissing between clamping teeth. Where's your bite now?

Your sharp tongue, that utter look of disdain and impossible insignificance. Like he were some bratty kid who'd been screaming between the isles of a grocery store and hauling candies off their shelves in a petty feat. You, you looked at him like he wore muck and slime like an overcoat. Sitting at the bar, sipping away on a stool like it were a pedestal. How was he not supposed to be angry?

•°. *࿐

It had been a sure day, that was until Principal Gakunganji had popped a blood vessel and decided to make it everyone's problem. Of course, the culprit to the fumes steaming out of his ears was none other than Satoru Gojo, much to no one's surprise. The staff had intially planned for a night of celebratory drinks following The Goodwill Event, though the mood had cut short by the devastating hijacking of cursed spirits who were, no doubt, enemies of Gojo lined up in his shadow.

The kids were in danger. Your own second graders, thrown into the impossible task to stay alive amidst the madness. For 'the strongest sorcerer of the present day', Gojo sure took his time to shake the barrier on campus, even had the nerve to goof around when it was all over.

You were having none of it.

"Come on, lighten up," you say, the drink in your hand dangerously edging to the rim in your exclaim. Kusakabe bears you no mind beside you, aimlessly spinning his glass and its melting ice to drown out the hubble. You huff, rolling your eyes.

The bar litters with many of your collective staff, though most of their faces are pulled down in exhaustion. You feel it deeply, the sympathy, the anger, for the overworked sorcerers and staff that looked upon on a friendly night out, now fall on the face of the bar counter with a thud. Just one nice thing. You grit your teeth with replenished rage.

"Gojo this, Gojo that," he mutters. You nudge Kusakabe encouragingly.

"Exactly!" you spring back, "you'll let that lampole dampen your mood?"

Atsuya flinches slightly at how you spur it on, feed into the trash talk, and inevitably sighs as if you were voicing his relentless contempt. You'd already tried poking at Utahime a few times to spill how she felt, but much to the disappointment of your gossiping, and your worry for the welfare of your coworker, she turned it down.

"He's a hotshot with no personality. He doesn't care about the people around him. I don't know why he's allowed to teach the kids in the first place. That 'feather duster' needs his ego shot down a few notches."

You continue, despite the widening look in Atsuya's eyes, "Sure, I get it. Being born into power has its inevitable struggles, but clearly he makes up for his lack of humanity for narcissism. He's got more priviledge in one thumb than we've all seen in our entire lives, yet people bow to his holyness like he's some god. Bless her heart; Miwa admires him. She looks up to him. For what?"

"His height?" Atsuya offers, laughing at his own joke.

You shoot him a look. "Our kids need role models. Not action figures," you take a sip of your drink, "he sure looks like one too."

You've heard it from Utahime herself; Satoru cared little for the average person, maybe a tad more if they were relevant in sorcery, but still, flies on the wall. If something didn't immediately serve him, it didn't exist in his radar. Kusakabe chuckles in agreement but refrains from saying anything; it seems the many near-death incidents and handfuls of casualties racked up on his concious still. You sigh:

"Gojo exists for his own pleasure."

You knock back your drink.

"Curious about my pleasure, are you?"

The voice almost knocks the wind out of you in surprise; you have no idea how you manage to swallow down without choking. Though, what immediately follows courses your blood in cold, wet disdain - because that man could just never stop finding ways to make you hate him more.

Lo and behold, the lampole has arrived.

Sat beside you with an arm propped up to his chin, he wears that impish grin in an effortless attempt to rile you up. You huff at Gojo as if he is the cause of all things uncomfortable and turn to the bartender again, "I need another one of these." A little liquid courage is a necessity when confronting God.

"The hell are you doing here?" you spit at the feather duster, harsher than you intend it to, "you don't drink."

He has the nerve to mockingly place a hand on his chest, mouth dropped in a gasp, "am I not welcome? Ouch." The peaks of his white hair sharpen to emphasize on his need to be dramatic. You roll your eyes.

"Do you not want me here, hmm?" he teases, pulling at the corner of his lips, "aren't you happy? What's with the face?"

God, even his voice is annoying. You can't help but throw, "oh, great. 'What's with the face', huh? So, you do have the ability to see things beyond yourself?"

The twitch of skin beneath his blindfold doesn't go unnoticed. You latch onto the opening.

"Nice to know you choose to be selfish."

•°. *࿐

Selfish.

He leans over, slotting his head between your ankles, pressing your knees into your chest in hopes to snap you in two. Maybe he could squeeze you into something smaller, something that'd fit inside his palm, and maybe that would tone down the weightless whining you did about how much of a terrible person he was. There'll be more where that came from.

If he was so selfish, would he meet the demands of those wet pupils and grind into you in delicious shapes? Would he drag the length of his tented crotch up and down your slit as a trial for what he could gift you?

His height serves to crowd you where his head is higher than yours, and in the unforgiving pace and position he sets you in, you're left craning your neck to meet masked eyes. The sheer size of him shrinks you into submission. Caged to all but feel the bulk of him, all but taste the scent of him and only him.

Ankles on his shoulders, his fingers form a vice grip on your wrists, bound to fall limp at the mercy of whatever the fuck he decides to give you. Selfish, huh? So fucking selfish. Gojo's jaw clenches visibly, nose scrunching in newfound anger. He was going to be selfish alright.

Gojo slows to a pace barely passable for movement. Your eyes widen, bold and wet, your face is priceless.

What's the point of being the strongest sorcerer when you had this?!

Power, to see how you're subject to feel pleasure only if he decides so. Your hands are immobile. Your legs are locked between your bodies. All you can see is the clouded essence of him that leaks off his every breath, the aroma that fans across your face and itches your nerves for more.

Something akin to the devil's henious satisfaction spreads on Gojo's lips, a manic little number you'd never seen on him before. He was still Satoru, stupidly handsome with a wolfish smirk to match, but this tickles your skin in alarm. His blindfold wraps tight around his eyes, but for some reason you feel as if you can see dual beams of blue peering into your every move.

And the way he drags himself, honing the heaviness where you need it most, imprinting the finer veins and ridges of his cock against your clothed sex. You hear it loud and clear; feel this? You'll do good to remember it.

This bastard.

You just want him to fuck you and get over with it, but he's insistent on reminding you how much of an arsehole he is. A groan reverbrates in the back of your throat, your hips all but attempting to buck into him in the little space, and Gojo chuckles like hot honey on your skin, a burn that soothes, posioned pleasure. Of course, you'd trade up your firstborn to actually bash the prick's head in, but you bite your tongue in this losing battle. He knows what you want, and he's well aware he has the means to give it to you.

You groan louder, parts whining, parts breathy, "fuck...Gojo, you self-serving prick."

Surely there are better uses that tongue, no?

What a sight you are, squirming for a taste more fricition all whilst spitting degradations to mask up your crumbling pride. Look at where you are, baby. Under me. You can't move unless you're moving into me. Is that not what you want, baby? You don't want me to stretch you into my shape, hmm?

"Come on, baby," Gojo painfully strains in the constraints of his uniform, "use that mouth besides calling me a prick. What is it you want?"

His teeth catch his lower lip, a playful tilt of his head lit up from the moonlight. Fuck, the way he smiles is curled in fervor and carnal want, boyishly mischievious.

Say it.

Like he could chew up the skin of your jaw and you'll grate a moan to chase the feeling of his canines in your blood.

Like he could paint your skin in patchy purples whilst you drew your scratches down his back screaming his name. Fuck, fuck, his head dips near your neck, his breath hot in your ear.

"Or I can just get myself off now and call it a night. Never stopped me before."

"God, fuck, Satoru, just-" it trembles when you push it out your throat, your voice losing its timbre, "-just fuck- fuck me already, please."

•°. *࿐

Ever since shaking hands with the administration team, everybody pounced at the opportunity to fill your ears with Gojo's impulsive catastrophes and the ripples all else felt. Typical reckless abandon, to have inherited techniques that few actually understood, you assumed he was burdened by the fated responsibilites that followed. He proved you wrong.

And with some back and forth, and a belly full of alcholol, Gojo has the audacity to step out of the bar in the middle of your pointed rants.

Your feet follow him before suddenly, it clicks; he's offended, "Oh. Oh, ho! I hit a nerve!"

Gojo, decidedly ignoring your existence, continues walking away lazily, hands deep in pockets.

"Good!" You jab at his back, in his shadow, "you should get what you deserve."

To that, he stills. The night drags beyond what the tick of alcholol gave you, and despite feeling the world sways, Gojo stands so still that it recalibrates the sky and ground. You've never known him to be quiet for longer than a handful of seconds, but now the minute drags on, and the nodule in your throat grows and wheezes.

"You hate me." He says, so low that you almost miss it.

Huffing, you scoff, "you think?"

"You hate me."

Okay. Clearly he's so in his own head that he didn't hear you the first time, or literally anytime before that.

"You don't make it easy." You shrug knowingly, "you lack basic morale, Gojo. You step over people. We're pawns of some grand scheme in your twisted little head."

"You don't know me," he turns, and you flinch realising you weren't actually talking to a wall. Usually so animated, it makes you uneasy seeing him so pulled from emotion, a prop at best.

"Do I need to?"

A pause.

"What do you want?"

The streetlamp flickers and solidifies, much like your mind registering the question to the depth Gojo intends. For what purpose did you waddle at his heels to continually jab daggers despite him being the first to walk away? What did this do for you?

Warm tones of golden night lights bathe the space between you two, catching on the tip of his nose and atop his hair, everything else sunken in the shadow. The air feels cool. He takes a step. The air is colder.

"Do you want me prove that I can care?"

Gojo takes another step, gold hazes behind him, "or..."

Why is he getting closer?

"Do you want me to tend to you?"

You struggle to suppress a sharp inhale. His intentions read clear.

It takes you a moment to recover from a stirring something in your lower abdomen, either by the compulsive drinking or the overwhelming closeness of him. Eventually, you chuckle mockingly, leaning in with half a challenge and the other half jaw tensed with the remnants of your anger, ticking off the last jab of the night:

"Oh, please. Like you know anything about pleasure besides your own..."

•°. *࿐

#gojo x reader #gojo/reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #gojo smut #suguru geto #jjk #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru smut

[merakiarchives]

hiii!! omg you asked for requests and I have so many I literally love your writing sm your flow is so smooth :,)) okayokay so—if you want to ofc—could you write something with Valen who’s been away for some time on a mission and ofc he and his s/o have been missing each other, so when he finally returns home it’s just a really wholesome moment?? basically a fluff piece with the Silly but the audience would not boo if there is a little spice >:] THANK YOU ILY ♡

La Seine

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A/N: ignore me scrambling to write this prompt. But seriously- I love it. Like- it’s so cute… also, tysm for the compliments. Honestly, I didn’t think my writing was any good 😀. Also sorry guys for not posting recently! I’ve been really busy and desperately trying to get back to writing. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

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Characters: Valen x GN! Reader

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Genre: Fluff, Fic, lil suggestive

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Warnings: Suggestive at the end. Other than that, none.

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Amongst the hundreds of books in your office, you sat on the floor’s carpet, a few dozen books sitting around you as you quickly write down various phrases. Not being even phased by the ever so quiet click of a door, or the river rushing down into the lake, the ever so quiet cooing of doves, maybe even the rustling of leaves.

Only being phased by the sudden feeling of arms wrapping around your waist and hoisting you up and off the soft carpet. With a quick kiss to your ear as the person took your pen and notebook out of your hands and placing them on the coffee table.

“Hello love..” A familiar voice hummed, a hand running up your waist and moving to play with your hair. “I missed you.. Hogan was on my case for the majority of the mission. Wish I was here with you.”

You only chuckled and Valen’s interesting ways to trying to get sympathy from you, turning around, you carefully press a kiss to his jaw.

“Welcome home Valen.. Hogan couldn’t have been that bad. He’s like your father. Of course he’d be worried about you at least.” You shrug, smiling as he sighed, taking off his extra clothes and sitting against the sofa. Gently guiding you to sit on his lap.

“Yes.. I’m well aware love.. just tired these last few days I guess.” He scoffs, burying his head in your neck as you finally sit down and get comfortable.

“Valen..?” You mumble slightly, blinking slowly at his comfortable state. Sighing slightly,you nestle further in his arm that’s draped lazily over your waist, his other hand and his attention occupied by playing with your hair.

He doesn’t respond again, but he does glance at you for a moment while you shift, adjusting his arm more comfortably.

“Sorry.. just missed you.” Valen sighed, looking back up at you before carefully leaning in for a kiss. Sighing happily when you gingerly hold his cheeks in your hands.

Slowly breaking the kiss, he slowly blinks, way too blissed out for someone who was only gone for a few weeks. “Can we take this to the bedroom? I really missed you, and I want a piece of that body.” He chuckles, picking you up and quickly walking towards the bedroom.

Laying you down on the bed, he hooks one of your legs and effectively opens your hips for him. “You’re okay with this right?” He asks, looking into your eyes.” All it really takes for him to continue is your little nod. Almost immediately he pushes his thigh into your hips. Exciting a moan from your lips.

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#meraki_archive writes #afk arena x reader #afk journey x reader #afk arena #afk journey