#I'm trying to be proud of finishing this (it's taken me a year) but also now I lowkey hate it ♡

[callmeahopelesscase]

-> Porchay Kittisawat & All That We Get by First Aid Kit (ft. Chay & Porsche sibling bond)

#chay my most dearest darling #he and this song!!! have been on my mind for so long!!!! have made me cry multiple times!!! #idk if this counts as chay meta?? let me know #I have so much to say about this edit but also rn I don't have the words so I hope what I want to say can be seen and felt #porchay pichaya kittisawat #kinnporsche the series #kpts edit #I'm trying to be proud of finishing this (it's taken me a year) but also now I lowkey hate it ♡ #porchay kittisawasd

[a-pigeons-soliloquy]

oouugghhh hannigram either 7 or 45. maybe even combine the two.

ok so it has been. a while. this one got, uh, more than a little out of control lmao (almost 3500 words holy fuck). but it's finally finished! i'm not sure if it exactly fits the prompts anymore but i tried to combine them both :) i hope you like it! (even if it did just end up as yet another mizumono fic lol oops)

***

"You were supposed to leave," Will hisses, and his voice is a devastated, furious thing.

There is blood soaking into his shoes and the scent of iron hangs heavy in the air, and the worst part is that Will doesn't even know whose blood it is anymore, but the question is lost to the back of his mind. Because in front of him stands a dishevelled man whose shirt is a mess of shiny red stains, a knife dripping in his hand.

A man who isn’t supposed to be there at all.

"I didn't want to leave without seeing you one last time," Hannibal says. The words one last time should be ringing alarm bells in Will's head, but he can’t hear them over the overwhelming chorus of thousands of other alarms, because everything is going wrong. There is blood on the floor and on the walls and Alana and Jack lie dying among shards of glass, and there is a SWAT team likely only minutes away, and yet Hannibal is still here.

They both are.

And now Will doesn’t know what to do, hasn’t known what to do for the last 3 months and hadn’t known what he’d do next when he’d made that phone call, telling the Chesapeake Ripper that they know. All he’d known was that he didn’t want Hannibal to die, didn’t want him locked up in a cage by his own hands. But here he is, faced with the consequences of his own actions, and once again Will doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know what to feel, or even what he is feeling beyond the adrenaline and desperation and horror and relief and confusion. He doesn’t want to feel the overwhelming guilt and sense of responsibility that has been steadily building behind his ribs since this whole scheme began. Yet that guilt now tears at the lining of his chest and crushes his lungs and holds his throat in a chokehold, and it’s just all too much and all he can think is none of this was supposed to happen and this is all my fault and what if?

Seeing Hannibal alive, he’d been struck by a sudden wave of relief that had almost caused his knees to give out beneath him. But now, as Hannibal’s eyes meet his, the awful look that greets him makes a pit suddenly form in his stomach, and the relief gives way to guilt again. And Will can’t take it.

None of this was supposed to happen.

This is all my fault.

What if?

And then it hits him: none of this was supposed to happen. And it hadn’t needed to. This awful mess of glass and blood and ruin could have all been avoided if Hannibal had just listened. If he’d trusted Will when he’d picked up the phone with shaky fingers and told him to run. But he hadn't. And this realisation comes with a sick sense of understanding, because for the whole time Will had known him, Hannibal had always had to have something hidden up his sleeve, always had to keep secrets from Will. Always had to know better. Feel superior. At last the final veil falls from Will's eyes, and all at once he can see how foolish he'd been to ever believe that they could be equals. How pathetic it was that, for those few long weeks they'd spent together, he'd actually believed that they were.

(Will fiercely forces back the voice in his head that whispers that he hadn’t exactly given Hannibal a reason to trust him.)

Heart hammering against his ribs, all of that guilt and fear melts together and stretches and twists and is reborn as deep, righteous anger.

Because no, all he’d wanted was for Hannibal to be safe and free and far from here, even if it meant Hannibal hated him, even if it meant they could never be together, even if it meant that one day Hannibal would come back and rip his still-beating heart from his chest without remorse. But instead here they are, highly armed police likely mere minutes out. And all because Hannibal hadn’t listened. Bitterly, Will thinks to himself that maybe he couldn’t change Hannibal in this way after all.

As if hearing the war cry of bitterness and anger, the resentment he’d kept locked away over the last year begins to bay and claw at its cage too, and, with no reason left to hold it back, Will finally opens the latch and lets it loose.

His next words come out as a growl. “Well now neither of us might get to leave at all”.

Hannibal looks at him, and before he can hide any emotion behind his mask Will can see surprise and deep betrayal warring behind his eyes. It should make him stop and consider, that surprise - that indication that he is behaving in a way that Hannibal did not quite anticipate. But the look of betrayal is like a knife to his chest, and so Will grips his resentment tightly and fumes.

What had Hannibal expected? For Will to be small, desperate? Cowering? Begging for forgiveness? His lip curls in derision. As if he would give him the satisfaction. No, mongooses have teeth and claws, and may whatever god he believes in help Hannibal if he thinks Will won’t use them.

Hannibal manages to force the emotion all behind a mask of icy indifference, and now when he looks at Will his gaze is blank. Though it is not his usual blankness which Will has become familiar with. It is an empty, unsettling kind of blank, the sort of blank he’s only ever seen in the eye of a shark. When Hannibal speaks his voice is cold, colder than Will has ever heard it.

"Forgive me for having doubts about the sincerity of your warning when you've been lying to me for the last month. Forgive me for wanting to see the truth of where your loyalties lie."

The acknowledgement is agony. All the guilt Will had been trying to force down suddenly rears its monstrous head again, and he finds his voice suddenly drying up. His throat feels tight.

He whispers. "My loyalties lie with you'

Hannibal only scoffs. It is ugly. Will has never seen Hannibal ugly before.

"A last minute change of heart is hardly loyalty, Will," he says. “What does Uncle Jack think of your loyalty, lying bleeding out in my pantry? Alana, shattered on the street? How can I be sure you do not still intend for me to join them?”

Hannibal takes a step towards him, adjusting his grip on the knife. Will’s heart pounds. He forces himself not to take a step back.

“Because I chose you, Hannibal, I was always going to choose you, I just needed time to accept that.”

But Hannibal just looks away. “If that is what you truly believe, then you haven't just been lying to me, you've also been lying to yourself.”

It’s so wrong, yet Hannibal had said it with such certainty and disdain that all Will sees is the arrogance with which Hannibal always assumes himself to be right. He dares to presume to know what Will is thinking better than Will knows himself? It turns out Hannibal Lecter really is just like every other psychiatrist Will has ever met, and a sense of grief rises up within him at the loss of something he’d never thought he could have until meeting Hannibal.

He hates himself for mourning what he shouldn’t want.

Will smothers the voice in his head whispering that Hannibal may in fact be correct, that he really does know Will's mind better than Will does his own. Instead he lets anger take over again, and this time it burns.

“You know nothing,” he hisses. His hands shake. Deep waves of indignant resentment roll over him, the roaring of the waves matching the blood in his ears.

He doesn’t know what he expects Hannibal to do next, but it isn’t for Hannibal to hum to himself, then huff a mirthless laugh and concede in a tone both melancholy and angry, “Perhaps you’re right.”

Once again Hannibal meets his eyes. “You know, I've never fully been able to predict you, Will, but this time I had hoped. It is a mistake I will not make again.”

He prowls closer still, and this time Will steps forward to meet him. Fight has won over flight and as the rising fury makes it hard to find words Will’s body seems to have decided to speak for him. The ticking clock of the impending arrival of the FBI ignored in favour of the burning, all-consuming rage within him.

But the fear of their time running out is still there, forced down as it is, and between that and the anger it’s only getting harder to think, and Hannibal is only making it worse. Every word that leaves his mouth brings fresh waves of intense emotion and it’s rapidly reducing Will to a state where there is nothing in his brain except pure animalistic rage-fear.

He just needs Hannibal to stop talking for one moment so he can think.

With what little coherent thought remains in his brain, Will decides to tell Hannibal in the only way he can manage anymore.

“For once in your life can you please just shut the fuck up”.

Hannibal's eyes flash dangerously. His lips curl up into a snarl, and the part of Will that still understands anything knows that he’s made a mistake - he’s only succeeded in confirming for Hannibal exactly how his words are affecting him, and getting him to stop now won’t be achieved without consequences.

Hannibal is quick to recover, a cruel grin taking over his face. His head tilts condescendingly. “Terribly rude, Will,’ he taunts.

The fire inside Will soars higher. He can feel it scorching his insides.

“Fuck you, Hannibal.” He spits.

Hannibal begins to loom over him, moving closer still in a manner that can only be called predatory, until all that separates them is an arm’s length. The knife still glistens in his hand.

“Is that all you have to say for yourself, Will? Childish comebacks? I’ve come to expect better from you. I'm disappointed.” There is a gleam of self-satisfied malice in his eyes and the shape of his lips. He looks dangerous. He looks beautiful.

Will hates him.

Will loves him.

Fuckyoufuckyoufuck-

And suddenly Will can’t take it any longer.

Before he knows what he is doing, he’s grabbing Hannibal by the bloody shirt and crashing his lips into his.

Time seems to stop, the world narrowing into a millisecond of time in which Hannibal’s hair brushes against Will’s forehead, breath warm against his mouth, their noses pressed almost painfully against each other. A moment where the cooling blood on Hannibal’s shirt soaks into Will’s palms and stains his fingers red. A moment where Hannibal stands deadly still, as if frozen, and Will feels as if he’s been frozen too.

There is a distant pressure in the corner of Will’s abdomen, then the vague sound of something clattering to the ground. But Will’s lips are on Hannibal’s and it is as if everything everywhere is inconsequential other than the feeling of Hannibal’s teeth against his, just as he’d imagined on so many a lonely night.

The moment seems to last an eternity before Hannibal’s hand finally comes up to grasp the back of his shirt tightly, and Will feels the sharp pull of the fabric against his skin, the pressure of Hannibal’s knuckles firm against his flank. A breathy gasp escapes his burning lips, and he can’t help the animal noise that subsequently tears its way from his throat. Luckily it seems that is what it takes for Hannibal to finally move his mouth and kiss back with equal force, teeth scraping sharply against Will’s. They gravitate closer and closer until Will’s arm is wrapped around Hannibal’s neck and their hips are pressed tightly together.

Eventually, Hannibal lets out a deep growl before he at last pulls away, dragging Will backwards until there is an arm’s distance between them. Will’s eyes flutter open and he gazes up at Hannibal. The adrenaline is still coursing through his veins and setting him alight, but this time it is not with anger but something wholly new.

As they lock eyes, Will realises that Hannibal is finally allowing Will to see, without barriers or veils, the full breadth of emotion in his eyes. There is still frustration and betrayal, yes (indeed, Will hadn’t let go of his either) but there is also - and Will’s heart skips a beat when he recognises it - pure and all-encompassing adoration. A wonderful warmth blossoms within his core, rendering him both weak and solid and light as a feather, and it is unlike anything Will can ever remember feeling.

He wonders if this is what it’s like to be loved.

Then those wonderful, expressive maroon eyes flicker downwards, and Hannibal’s brow furrows, lines around his eyes deepening. Confused, Will follows his gaze, and is surprised to see a growing deep red stain on his shirt, though any reaction he distantly thinks he perhaps should be having is dulled and seems to float just out of reach. It’s strange; there isn’t any pain, just the memory of an odd pressure that he’d ignored at the time and a peculiar sense of unreality.

For a moment he just stands, uncomprehending, but as the adrenaline finally starts to wear off he becomes increasingly aware of a dull ache at the site of the wound, and it isn’t long before that dull ache blossoms into a terrible burning pain. Hand instinctively falling from Hannibal’s shoulder to hover protectively over the wound, Will looks back up at Hannibal, a mix of confusion, surprise, pain and betrayal written across his face. An involuntary whine slips from his suddenly dry throat.

The vocalisation appears to spur Hannibal into action. He takes Will gently but firmly by the arms and quickly guides him to a nearby sofa, helping him lay down across its seats before sinking to his knees beside him and pulling up his shirt to inspect the injury. A moment passes, then a near-imperceptible line of tension seems to drop slightly from Hannibal’s shoulders and he pulls Will’s shirt back down.

“It is as I thought: due to the angle and the quick loosening of my grip on the handle, only the tip of my knife entered your body. The wound is not so deep as to require immediate attention, but it will certainly require stitches.”

He guides Will’s hand back to his injury and helps him to apply the right amount of pressure. It hurts, and when Will winces and lets out small pained noise, Hannibal brings a hand to his hair and cards it through the damp curls. It feels nice, it feels so very nice and right, and Will’s eyes slip closed for a moment, enjoying the feeling. When he opens them, Hannibal is looking down at him, face once again carefully blank.

“There is likely very little time left before the FBI arrives,” he begins, “and I will soon be leaving for Florence. I will offer you this once and only once, and you will have until I return with our passports and a select few other items to make your decision.”

He fixes Will with a heavy look. “One last chance, Will. You can come with me to Florence, and I will show you the city where I became a man. We will leave immediately, take up new identities, and likely never return.

“Or, I can leave you here. You can wait for the cops to arrive and take you to a hospital. Your reputation will remain intact, and you can go back to your job and your house in the woods, your life as you know it, and you will never see me again.”

An almost undetectable pause, and then, “This is your final decision, Will. I suggest you make it wisely.”

With this he climbs to his feet and leaves the room

For a while Will sits thinking, but deep down he knows his mind is already made up. The myriad of complicated feelings he harbours towards Hannibal still plague him, and a part of him still wants to lock the man up and throw away the key, but he’s finally willing to admit that it’s all inconsequential. He knows now he can't live without Hannibal, for better or for worse, whether he loves him or hates him, or a twisted mix of both. He’ll miss his life terribly for the isolated comfort it brought, but he’d miss Hannibal far, far more.

There is only one choice to make.

The moment Hannibal reappears in the doorway Will is speaking.

“I want to come with you.”

Hannibal’s face remains carefully blank. “You understand there is no going back from this. I will not change my lifestyle and you can never return to the false life you have led. You will be shedding your sheepskin for good this time, and the world will be on our tail for as long as we-”

Will cuts him off.

“I want to come with you,” he repeats firmly.

A long pause, and then a small but genuine smile graces Hannibal's lips. With a dip of his head, he seems to accept the decision. “Very well,” he says, though Will can hear the unspoken relief that lies beneath it. He lets himself smile back, tired but overjoyed and honest. It feels right.

Hannibal comes back to where he lies on the couch, and helps him get up, his touch firm yet gentle as he holds Will against his side.

“Do you think you can walk?” he asks.

Will’s breath catches as the shift to being upright pulls sharply on his wound. While it could have been far deeper - and Will doesn’t want to imagine what Hannibal’s initial plan for him was - it is still painful, and increasingly so as the last of the adrenaline wears off. Plus, he’s losing a fair amount of blood, and the change in angle temporarily darkens his vision and sends stars dancing across his eyes. Grimacing, he closes his eyes and waits for the pounding in his head to stop. Hannibal lets him lean against him, steadfastly taking his weight, and says nothing.

When the stars fade and he feels steadier on his feet, Will considers Hannibal’s question, and after a moment of assessment nods - he’s been shot in the shoulder before, he can handle this - and lets Hannibal lead him out of the house and down the street to an unfamiliar car.

Alana is unconscious now, and Will catches Hannibal’s eyes lingering on his jacket where it lies over her body. He looks at her, the person he’d once imagined sharing a life with, and thinks of how important she had always been to him, even after everything. A pang of bittersweet nostalgia hits him, accompanied by a longing for a simpler time when maybe it could have been possible. But ultimately he allows Hannibal to help him into the passenger seat of the car. This is the life he’s chosen, the person he’s chosen, cannibalism and all. There is no going back now, and nothing to be gained from contemplating what ifs.

Then the car door closes, and Alana is hidden from sight.

There is another noise as Hannibal gets in the car from the other side, and after fiddling with some dials and buttons, he starts the engine.

“I will drive us to the airport where our flight awaits. When we are a safe distance from the house we will stop and I will clean and suture your wound. But for now I suggest you sleep - you will need the rest if you are to recover well.”

He must notice the lines of discomfort on Will’s face, as he adds, softening slightly, “There are some painkillers in the door.”

After taking the pills as directed, Will lays his head back against the headrest and allows his eyes to close. The last of the adrenaline has left his system, leaving behind a sudden bone tiredness that makes his lids heavy and breathing slow.

With the sound of the vehicle lulling him and the comfort of Hannibal’s presence beside him - alive, together - sleep comes quickly, and the last thing Will knows before the darkness claims him is the feeling of a warm hand gently coming to rest upon his own.

#nbc hannibal #hannigram #hannigram fic #hannibal fanfiction #my writing #kiss prompts #gonna say ​abigail is in the backseat of the car but it's dark and will is too tired to notice lol #and they find a way to have all 7 dogs sent to wherever they end up :) #i hope this is decent enough and there aren't any mistakes! #pretty sure everything is capitalised and in the same tense now haha #god this has taken forever #also #this is the first fic i've managed to finish in like 7 years so i'm really proud :) #now to work on my many other wips! #also i hope the formatting is ok! #let me know if it's horrible lol and i'll try to fix it

[mothandpidgeon]

Unrequited (bfd! pre-outbreak!/Jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader)

Moth's Masterlist // follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

pairing: bfd! pre-outbreak!/Jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader

rating: E 18+MDNI

summary: You arrive in Jackson 22 years after the outbreak only to be reunited with your best friend’s dad, the man that stole your heart and broke it when you were fourteen– Joel Miller.

contents: best friend's dad, age gap, outbreak night (nothing that isnt in ep 1), big angst, abandonment issues, brief suicidal ideation, daddy issues, grief, Joel guilt, unprotected p in v sex, reader doesn't know where Jakarta is, reader is not described physically but Joel picks (adult) reader up, moth never uses y/n.

wc: 9k

a/n: This has been a bitch to finish but I'm quite proud of where it ended up. It's the longest os I've written which makes me nervous nobody will want to read it but I hope you do.

Thank you a million times to @ezrasbirdie for making me finish this and betaing. Also thank you @lowlights for listening to me ramble on this! Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Old man, take a look at your life. I’m a lot like you. Neil Young

You’re waiting for Sarah on the front steps when she gets home. School ended nearly two hours ago and you’ve been sitting here a ball of nerves. The whole world seems to be uneasy this afternoon. You notice sirens, a team of fighter jets scrambling above. It's like your anxiety has spilled out of your chest and it’s taken life all around you. 

You finger the corner of your notebook. On the inside are doodles— hearts and bubble letters. Juvenile daydreams put to paper. Your first name and after it his last, testing out the sound of who you would be if only you’d been born in a different decade. Mrs. Miller. 

Sarah doesn’t look very happy to see you. It’s been two weeks since you’ve talked to her and you’ve never felt more lonely. 

Her words still ring in your ears. 

“It’s like you’re in love with my dad.”

“No I'm not!” you said, your whole body tingling with the heat of embarrassment. You’d never felt so exposed in your life. 

“Sometimes I think that’s the only reason you’re even friends with me,” she said. 

You've been ruminating on that accusation ever since. You pine for Mr. Miller the way only a fourteen year old can. It’s the kind of infatuation that makes you understand how Romeo and Juliet ended in tragedy. All-consuming, unrequited, so in love it hurts.

So maybe Sarah’s right. Your heart flutters every time Mr Miller appears in the kitchen, wearing a dark t-shirt that hugs his biceps. You try not to stare at his aquiline nose when he drives you home from Sarah’s soccer games. Sleep overs at the Miller’s house mean more opportunities to be around him, learn the little details that make him him. And there were plenty of sleep overs because your parents are always so busy fighting, they never bother to keep track of you. 

But you’ve been in agony without your friend. It’s a pain sharper and more present than the yearning you’ve felt for Mr. Miller. You’ve talked to her every day since you moved to Austin in fourth grade and since this fight, there’s been an empty space in your heart. 

“Hi.” You stand up, hoisting your backpack awkwardly over your shoulder. 

“I’m supposed to go next door,” Sarah says. 

“Can I just talk to you for a minute?” you ask. 

She sighs but opens the front door with her key and lets you follow her into the living room. 

“I’m sorry,” you say before you lose your nerve. “You’re right. I like your dad.”

It’s probably the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever owned up to. You wish you could explain to her that you know how silly it is to be in love with a full grown man, your best friend’s dad. It’s not like he’ll ever see you as anything other than a kid. 

You can’t put into words how he makes you feel. It’s not just his broad shoulders or chocolate eyes, though it’s undeniable that he’s gorgeous. He asks about school and comes to see you in the musical. Joel is an adult that actually gives a crap about you. 

You want to tell Sarah that one of the reasons you love her father so much is because of her. Because he’s such a good dad, because he raised such a cool, funny, smart daughter. That Sarah makes him better. 

It’ll take years for you to find words for all of that. So you just do your best right now. 

“I can’t help it. I wish I could,” you say. 

That’s true. And not just because your crush has made you lose your only friend. It’s exhausting to feel such a powerful longing, to want something you know you’ll never have. It’s torture. 

“But you’re my best friend. And that’s not why. I promise,” you say. 

Sarah sighs heavily, her pretty hazel eyes full of remorse. 

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t have said that. I just get jealous sometimes.”

“I promise I won’t make you feel that way ever again. I could never like him more than you,” you tell her, sitting beside her on the couch and looking her in the eye so she knows you mean it. “He’s…old.”

You both laugh. 

“He’s so lame. This morning he said that Jakarta is in the Middle East,” she giggles. 

You don’t know where the hell Jakarta is but of course Sarah does. You throw your arms around her. You’ve missed her so damn much. The past two weeks have felt like two decades. 

“I’m sorry,” you tell her. 

“Me too.” She returns your embrace. “Do you have to go home? You can sleep over if you want. It’s my dad’s birthday but I don’t think he’s going to be home until late.”

Your heart twinges at the offer and not because it means you might see Mr. Miller at breakfast. You won’t even look at him again. Tonight is about your friend.

You end up watching some corny action movies and gorging yourselves on microwave popcorn. Everything feels right again. You don’t think about Mr. Miller. In fact, you’re grateful that his double has gone over into a late night so you don’t have to be in the same room. You’ve sworn to yourself that you’ll act normal around him but you’re not sure that sheer willpower can stop you from getting butterflies when he’s right there. 

At some point, you pass out in front of the tv, happier than you’ve been in a long time. 

Sarah nudges you awake sometime after midnight, concern all over her face. 

“Was I snoring?” you ask, groggy. 

She’s looking out the window. Helicopters fly so low overhead, the whole house rattles. It’s a wonder you slept through all of this noise— the choppers are joined by the wail of a car alarm, pops like fireworks. The TV is playing a high-pitched tone and when you peer at it, you see a test pattern on the screen. 

Dread settles in the pit of your stomach. 

“Something’s going on,” Sarah says almost to herself. 

A sudden thud against the back door makes you both jump. You swear, shaken out of your sleepy haze. 

“Mercy?” Sarah asks. 

You’ve spent enough time with Sarah to become acquainted with their neighbors The Adlers and their border collie Mercy. Mr Adler used to pay you each a dollar to walk him. Mercy’s frantically pawing at the glass. 

Sarah goes to the door and steps into the yard. You follow, unsure you want to leave the familiar safety of the house but unwilling to be alone with such an eerie feeling in the air. 

“What’re you doing out here, boy?” Sarah says, crouching down to pet the whimpering animal.  

“Where’s your dad?” you ask her. 

You hope the question doesn’t make Sarah think you’ve already forgotten your promise. Everything’s just so wrong. You’d feel a lot better with an adult around. 

“Don’t think he came home yet,” she says. You can hear the concern in her voice. “Let’s take Mercy back. The Alder’s will be home.” 

Mercy puts up a fight as Sarah pulls him across the lawn. It’s late and dark save the street lamp and a few porch lights that have been left on. You shiver despite the fact that it’s a warm southern night. 

The front door to the Adler’s house stands open and inside is black. No. Bad. You want to run back to the Miller’s house and lock the door behind you but the promise of Mr. And Mrs. Adler inside keeps you moving towards the darkened entrance. Maybe Mrs. Adler will give you some cookies while you wait for Mr. Miller. 

Sarah steps in first. The dog bucks and strains against her grip on his collar. Sarah fights to keep hold of him but Mercy’s thrashing makes him hard to pin down. He pulls free from Sarah’s grasp and darts away. 

You have half a mind to do the same but Sarah keeps going forward. She’s scared, too, her breaths shallow as she tip toes down the hall.  

“Mrs. Adler?” Sarah asks, her voice barely above a whisper. 

You reach for each other without even realizing it and you enter the kitchen holding hands. 

What you see there is beyond your wildest imaginings. There’s blood, a lot of it. Sarah’s shoe slides in the stuff and you grab her before she loses her balance. The room is cast in shadows but a street light streams through the window in the side door. Its beam falls over the form of Mr. Adler, limp on the floor. His back is against the door and a gush of dark blood sparkles in the sodium vapor. 

You’ve never seen so much blood, never seen anyone injured so brutally. It looks like he’s been attacked by some wild animal. Mercy was acting strange but the dog couldn’t do that.

“Help me,” he rasps. 

He’s speaking to you. You’re actually here. This is happening and you need to do something. 

But before you can form a coherent thought, your eyes travel deeper into the kitchen. Beside the island is more blood…and more bodies. 

As if seeing Sarah’s neighbor with his neck ripped open wasn’t enough of a horror, you’re now watching Nana hunched over Mrs. Adler’s corpse, her face buried in the younger woman’s neck. The scene before you makes no sense. Most of the time the old woman is barely conscious, hasn’t left her wheelchair in years and yet she’s on all fours before you looking feral. 

Sarah squeezes your hand so tight you’re afraid your knuckles will break. 

Nana slowly raises her face to you. Her eyes are pitch black and her mouth teems with twitching tendrils. You are staring at a living, breathing monster. 

When she leaps at you, you and Sarah bolt for the door. Your heart hammers against your ribs. Sarah makes it out first and races towards the sidewalk. 

Once you’ve gotten onto the front step, you slam the storm door shut behind you to trap whatever that thing is inside. SLAM. Nana collides with the door and it rattles violently. You hold it closed with every ounce of strength in you, listening to the creature behind it scratch and wail and willing yourself not to look through the glass to see its horrible face. Terror holds your muscles taught. You’re not sure how long you can stay like this, your sneakers skidding across the ground. 

With a roar, Uncle Tommy’s truck pulls up at that very moment and Mr. Miller hops out of the passenger seat before its even come to a full stop. He’s a fearsome sight, broad and rippling with untamed energy, his muscular arms outlined by the headlights of the car. You’ve never been more grateful for his presence. 

This nightmare is almost over. Joel’s come to save you. 

“Girls get in the car!” he bellows. His voice is raw and ragged. 

Just as you’re ready to make a run for it, The door flings out towards you, and you’re thrown aside as if you weigh nothing. You hit the driveway hard, your head connecting with concrete. 

For a moment, you can’t hear anything but the gush of blood pumping in your ears. You’re dizzy. Suffocating. There’s a warm trickle at your temple. Sarah calls your name. Your vision is blurred but you can make out the ghoulish form of the creature barreling towards her. 

“What’re we doing, Joel?” you hear Tommy ask.

There’s a thud and then quiet. 

You gasp again and again but your lungs won’t fill. 

Are you dying? Help. You need help. The monster lays lifeless at Joel’s feet and you pray that he’ll scoop you up and take you away from this. Your eyes finally come into focus to see Mr. Miller comforting Sarah, holding her face in his big palms, so fixated on her that he doesn’t notice that Mr. Adler has appeared in the doorway. 

Mr. Adler is still covered in so much blood and his gait has become twitchy as if his legs are on backwards. He moves towards them and you want to call out a warning but you’re still choking for air. Luckily he hasn’t noticed you but he soon stands between you and the Millers. 

“We’ve got to move,” Tommy says. 

“Get in the car,” Mr. Miller says to Sarah, throwing a protective arm in front of her. 

“But she’s hurt!”

She steps towards you. You’d cry her name but you’ve still got the wind knocked out of you and you’re too terrified to make a noise. Mr. Adler makes an inhuman sound as he advances, a croaking, growling gurgle. 

Mr. Miller pushes Sarah towards the truck. 

“Leave her!” he barks. “Get in the car!”

You sputter and choke as you watch Sarah, Joel, and Tommy drive away. 

You wait for a long time. 

As the truck pulls off of the curb, Mr. Adler is joined by his wife in the street, making chase. You’re finally able to draw breath and rouse your body off of the ground. You scramble back across the lawn to the Miller’s house and lock yourself inside. There’s enough adrenaline coursing through you that you’re able to push the sofa to barricade the front door. You draw all of the curtains and grab the biggest knife you can find in the kitchen. It’s ridiculous, something you’ve seen in scary movies, but you’re living in one right now. 

You hide yourself away. Sarah’s bedroom seems like the obvious place to do it. Familiar and safe. You curl yourself into a ball in the corner, clutching your knife and staring at the closed door with wild eyes. 

Sirens go through the night. Gunshots. At one point even the roar of a jet engine. 

For hours your body quivers as you try to make sense of what you’ve just witnessed. Flesh-eating mutants. Gore. Death. You keep waiting to wake up from a bad dream but you don’t. They left you. They abandoned you in a nightmare. 

No. That’s impossible. You can accept that a comatose elderly woman made supper out of her son in law but you refuse to believe that Joel would desert you. 

He’ll come back for you. Sarah will convince him. There’s always been room for you in their family. 

But as the sun begins to peek through the blinds and the noises outside fade away, you begin to lose hope. 

The muscles in your body go slack, exhausted from hours of uncontrollable shaking. Your instinct for survival and your need for sleep war with each other. Exhaustion is winning. 

You cautiously open the door to Sarah’s room. The house is still, more quiet than you’ve ever experienced. You creep into the room at the end of the hall. The olive green sheets on Joel’s bed are still messy from when he woke up here the day before. A normal morning. His birthday. 

You rest the knife on the night stand amongst the things he emptied from his pockets— coins, receipts, a stray nail. You slip into the bed and wrap yourself up. It smells like him— spicy deodorant and sweat, fresh cut lumber like the hardware store. The scent reminds you of all those times he was close, when your heart leapt. 

They’ll come back. Mr. Miller wouldn’t leave you. 

He left you to die but you just go on living.  

It takes some time before you’re brave enough to leave the Miller’s house and see what’s left of the world. Your parents are nowhere to be found. It’s safe to assume they were infected that first night. 

You’re on your own. 

A QZ is set up outside of San Antonio. They assign you to housing for separated minors. An orphanage. You never make friends, not really. Trust is too fickle.

At night you lay in your bunk and wonder what life would be like if anybody gave a shit about you. Maybe you would have been with your parents when it all went down. You’d be a snarling monster but at least you wouldn’t be alone. 

On the worst nights, when you like yourself the least, Mr. Miller’s words echo around your skull. “Leave her.” She's not worth it. Forget her. 

You don’t imagine yourself in his arms anymore. Instead you picture him and Sarah and Uncle Tommy, all happy and safe hiding out somewhere idyllic. A sweet little cabin with a stream nearby, surrounded by peaceful woods. You’ve heard some people live like that.

Some days you wish you were with them. Others you wish they were all dead. 

When you turn 18, you age out of your living situation. It couldn’t come soon enough. Things are changing and it seems like all the kids that stay in FEDRA school are being groomed to go straight into uniform. You dodged that bullet but life’s not easy. Now you’re well and truly alone, scraping by to keep food in your mouth and a roof over your head. 

It only lasts a few years, though. By the time you’re 21, there’s an emergency evacuation. Outbreaks are happening within the walls and with so many people living on top of each other, it’s only a matter of time before shit hits the fan. They send swaths of people to Dallas but word is, there’s no room for such numbers and they consider everyone from San Antonio an infection risk. 

You’ve heard enough stories to know what that means. There won’t be a warm welcome when you reach the next QZ. So you ditch the convoy and head north. 

You bounce around for years, sometimes with others, a lot of time solo. Doing what you have to. It’s not a life, just survival. 

By the time you reach the wilds of Wyoming, you’ve had enough. You break off from the group you’re traveling with. You leave them this time, just decide to walk into the forest and let the earth swallow you up. You’re exhausted, sick of hanging on by a thread. Too much of a coward to kill yourself, you wander around waiting for the cold or your hunger or a bear to do it for you. 

They find you. Some scouts that look mean and tough take pity on you and offer you a place with them in a commune where things are half normal. 

It’s the first time being alone has worked to your advantage.  

Jackson is a strange place. It has walls like the QZ but it’s quaint. There’s laughter and evergreen wreaths, happy children that build snowmen in the center of town. Some of these kids have no idea how fucked up the world has become. All they know is this charming little haven. 

You spend the first few days in the infirmary, getting patched up, regaining your strength. You feel like an animal compared to the people in your new community. It’s hard to accept that they’re willing to help you, no strings attached. 

Eventually you’re well enough to have your own place. They set you up with a little apartment over one of the stores in town. You’re invited to take your meals in the dining hall. 

It takes you back to those first days at your new middle school after you came to Austin. Unfortunately, this time Sarah’s not there to offer you a seat at her lunch table. 

You keep to yourself, overwhelmed by all of the strange new faces. Head down, you eat your breakfast. It’s the best food you’ve had in years. As your belly fills, you start to relax and try to get used to the idea of this being home. 

Then you hear a familiar voice say your name. You wonder if you’re hallucinating when you see him standing in front of you. 

He’s gained a few decades but he looks good. His hair is nearly shoulder length and there’s a mustache on his upper lip but that’s him alright. 

“Uncle Tommy?” you manage. 

“That really you?” he asks. 

Tommy puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. His smile wrinkles the corners of his eyes. You nod and you’re smiling too.  

You expect to be upset. Tommy was there when you were abandoned after all. But you’re flooded with relief and a small flame of hope. 

“Shit. What’re the chances?” he asks, studying your face. “C’mere.”

He pulls you through the lines of tables. Your head spins with questions. How did he end up in Wyoming of all places? How long has he been here? Did you actually die out there only to be sent to this strange afterlife? 

“You remember this old son of a bitch?” Tommy asks with a chuckle when he stops at the table in a far corner. 

And suddenly you’re face to face with Mr. Miller. 

He’s old. Grey hairs run through his stubble and curl from his temple. There are deep lines in his face. He’s still good looking despite how weathered his features have become, still broad, still with that wonderful silhouette.

It’s funny. In your mind’s eye, you’ve never imagined Joel aging. He stayed the same while you grew up. 

He looks at you for a long moment and then his thick bottom lip falls agape. His eyes glitter and his dimple appears as he recognizes the woman that you’ve become. 

“Kiddo,” he whispers as he stands up. 

He pulls you into a hug and his wide palm smooths down your back. He still smells just how you remember and without warning you’re sobbing into the front of his flannel. 

You spent hours upon hours imagining what you might say if you ever saw him again. Sometimes it was a speech biting with venom, others a confession, a question. Now, though, your mind is blank, overwhelmed that fate has brought you back together. A testament to your survival. 

“It’s alright, babygirl. You’re okay,” he says into your hair. Words you needed to hear all those years ago. 

You stay like this for a long time, surrounded by him. He holds you the way you wished he had as you cried into his pillow in that empty house. Eventually you pull yourself together with a shaking breath. 

“Where’s Sarah?” you ask, casting your eyes around the crowd in the mess hall. 

There’s a girl sitting beside Joel, her curly hair pulled back into a ponytail, watching this scene unfold. Everyone else is polite enough to pretend you’re not bawling in the middle of lunch. Can’t be the first time it’s happened. 

At your question, Tommy goes stone faced. The muscle in Joel’s jaw ticks. 

You shake your head in disbelief. “Infected?” you squeak out. 

“It wasn’t like that,” Joel chokes. 

“She didn’t make it through that first night,” Tommy says. 

It’s a punch in the gut, the air’s knocked out of your chest all over again. While it had crushed you to be abandoned, part of you understood. Joel had to choose and he picked his daughter. Even if he’d been in love with you the way you used to dream about, he always would have chosen Sarah. You couldn’t hold that against him, no matter how much it hurt. There just wasn’t anyone in the world that would have saved you. 

But knowing that he failed her, that he failed you both, makes you sick. All those years of bitterness come flooding back to you and your tears turn hot and furious. 

“You let her die?” you demand. “You told her to leave me behind and you didn’t even save her?” You push Joel, your hands against the wet spots you left on his shirt. It’s ineffectual. He barely moves against your pathetic shove but his face crumples. You know he hates himself as much as you do in that moment but that’s not enough. You hit him as hard as you can and he does nothing to defend himself. 

“Hey, hey,” Tommy says, trying a hand on your shoulder. 

“You should’ve saved her,” you bark. 

Heads have turned now as Tommy holds you back. 

“I hoped you were dead every day since you left me,” you say. 

You can see on his face that Joel’s definitely wished the same thing. 

You go on berating him, your tears mixing with spit as you snarl and shout, until Tommy’s able to wrestle you out of the dining hall. 

The summer comes. After a long, cold winter, everyone in Jackson welcomes the change of seasons with open arms. Everyone but Joel. 

Ellie was a salve for the deep wounds on his heart. They’ll never fully heal but at least they stopped overwhelming him for some time. Since your dramatic reunion, though, those scars have been torn open once more. Especially today. 

It’s warm and there’s barely a cloud in the sky. The July weather is mild compared to summers in Texas. Fresh air blows in through the open windows of the house, beckoning Joel outside but he has no desire to be in the sunshine. 

“You okay?” Ellie asks. 

She’s just come down the stairs. It’s early and Joel’s already at the kitchen table. Didn’t sleep much. 

He and Ellie have been together long enough that she understands the wordless shifts in his moods. They’ve gotten worse since you arrived in Jackson. He does his work and patrols, sometimes he nurses a whiskey alone at the bar. The rest of the time he keeps to himself. He’s sliding back towards the man she met back in Boston. Joel’s rebuilt the walls that surrounded him, brick by brick since that afternoon in the dining hall. 

“I was going to meet Dina at the mess. Want to come? Or I could stick around?” she offers. 

It’s going to be one of those dark days, the kind that makes him question why he’s been hanging on for so long, and Ellie knows it. She’s giving him a lifeline, offering to be with him so he doesn’t have to ask. He should accept it, but he doesn’t want to waste his energy putting on a brave face for her when he feels so broken. 

“That’s alright, Ellie. Go on,” he says. 

She doesn’t push him. She never does. She just gives a sympathetic smile before she slips out. 

Once seems gone, his heart begins to ache. 

Sometime later, there’s a knock at the door. The last person he expects to see on the porch is you. You look a little nervous, like if he’d taken longer to come to the door you might’ve bolted. 

He hasn’t spoken to you since that day that you came back into his life but the words you said play relentlessly on loop in his mind. He should have made amends by now. You were his daughter’s best friend and of all the places at the end of the world, you’ve ended up in the same town. He passes by the old pharmacy you live above just about every day, thinks about seeing if you’re in so you can have a conversation. He even knows what he’d say, but he can’t work up the courage. There aren’t any words that can make right what he did to you. 

The guilt metastasized deep in his gut. His failure compounded. 

So he doesn’t blame you for keeping your distance, avoiding him when your paths cross. He lets you be angry with him, as he deserves. 

“Want some company?” you ask. 

He recognizes the look on your face and it dawns on him that he might not be the only person struggling today. He steps aside to let you in. 

Joel sets a cup of tea down in front of you. It’s not the real thing. Dried herbs from the garden Maria keeps. You’ve taken a seat across from him at the table, glancing around the kitchen so you don’t have to look at him. 

“Surprised you remember,” he says. 

“My best friend’s birthday?”

He shrugs as he pulls up a chair across from you. “Was a long time ago.”

“I think you underestimate the power of female friendships.” 

You wear a soft smile that makes Joel’s heart ache a little harder. He takes a good look at you, seeing you up close for the first time. There are hints of the girl he knew back in Austin but she’s buried under years of hard living. 

You’re the same age Sarah would have been today. The same age he was when he lost everything. 

You sigh and scratch awkwardly at your neck. 

“Listen, I’m sorry about…all that shit I said. It’s…” you trail off and he’s sure you’re still mad at him, deep down. 

“I reckon I’m the one that owes an apology. I shouldn’t’ve left you back there. Sarah begged me not to,” he admits. “I was trying to keep her safe. But I fucked that up, too.” 

“That’s not true. I was just angry,” you tell him. 

“I was always so pissed at your parents for not caring enough about you. Turns out I was just as bad,” he says. 

He hadn’t given any thought to the choice he made all those years ago. His priority was his family and he had no room for the rest of humanity. Joel didn’t realize until he saw your face again just how selfish that had made him. The past months he’s been haunted by the thought of it, a young thing all alone in the chaos. If Sarah’s watching over him, which sometimes he hopes she is, she’d be ashamed. 

“I’ve had a lot of time to think since I got here and…I don’t blame you. I’m not your kid. It just���“ You laugh without humor. “God, it’s so stupid but I had a huge crush on you.”

Joel’s eyebrows shoot up. You fiddle with the chipped handle on your mug.

“I know. I was just a kid but I was head over heels for you,” you say.

Joel can feel himself blushing. It’s a sweet thought. He’s honored in a strange way. He remembers the gravity of Sarah’s crushes– Leonardo DiCaprio, Usher, some guy with a lip ring from one of those punk bands she listened to.

“So when you left me…I was a little heart broken.”

“Shit,” Joel says. 

“I didn’t say that to make you feel bad. I just wanted you to know why I was so hurt,” you tell him, leaning forward in your seat. “You didn’t know any of that. And it’s not fair to hang that over your head. It wasn’t your job to rescue me.”

“Course it was,” Joel responds. “You were just a kid. I let you down.”

You look at him gratefully and a tear slips down your cheek. It takes a minute for you to fully take that in and it seems like something you’ve needed to hear. 

“Joel. I forgive you,” you tell him. 

A thick knot forms in his throat. 

There’s a litany of names in his mind, so many people he’s failed. Henry and Sam. Tess. Sarah. He’s never expected to be absolved of any of his sins, he doesn't deserve to be forgiven. But those three words make him feel lighter, like he can stop beating himself up. At least for a moment. 

He tucks his chin into his chest trying to keep his own tears from spilling over. Your hand slips over his, a gentle, reassuring touch. 

The two of you stay like that for a little while, crying together, then becoming reacquainted. You talk for a long time. There’s a lot of catching up to do but the conversation keeps coming back to Sarah. It’s a gift to share memories of her, to hear stories that he’s never heard. You knew Sarah better than anyone in the world— her favorite store in the mall, what she wanted for her birthday. Her hopes, her dreams, her fears. No fourteen year old goes to her daddy with her problems. You were there for her, though. Right up until the end. 

“I, um, you should have this,” you say. “Well, it’s yours.”

You and Joel have migrated to the couch in the living room as the afternoon has crept on. You reach into your back pocket, a little reluctant, and pull something out. 

It’s a photograph, dog eared and creased from years of being carried with you. Joel recognizes the picture— you and him and Sarah, all three of you donning life jackets, smiling as you float on a calm river. He and Tommy took Sarah kayaking and she asked if you could tag along. It was a wonderful day. Blue, cloudless sky. 

The last time he saw the photo it was hanging under a magnet on the refrigerator in the kitchen. 

“How’d…”

“I stayed in your house for a while. After. Just kind of hoping you might come back. I took that when I left. And I ate all your food,” you say with a little chuckle. You wipe some snot from your nose. “I guess…well, you probably don’t have a lot of pictures of her.”

You’re right. There was an outdated school photograph in his wallet when they left that night and it had been too painful to look at for years. It still stings a little but it feels easier to share with someone, someone that knew her so well. 

“You sure?” he asks. 

You nod. “I know where to find it.”

He props the picture up on the coffee table so you can both look at it and meditate on that day when everything felt so perfect. 

“Remember we made you play “Crazy in Love” on on repeat the whole way there?” you ask. 

“I still get that goddamn song stuck in my head,” he complains. 

You laugh and rest your head on his shoulder. The familiar gesture cracks something open inside of him. He’s taken back to his favorite nights when he’d watch a movie with Sarah and she’d cuddle against him. Somehow the memory doesn’t hurt as much as he anticipates. 

You sit like that, looking at the picture, both quiet, your smiles fading as you remember what’s happened since. 

“Sometimes I think I see her,” he chokes. 

He’s never told anyone that. But it seems like you might understand, He trusts you won’t meet his admission with a pitying smile. 

“How’s she look?” you ask. 

He can’t help but chuckle. He nods. 

You don’t say anything, you just burrow your head a little deeper into him. Joel puts a gentle kiss in your hair. 

You’re a fixture in the Miller house once again, part of the family. You babysit for Maria and tell her embarrassing stories about Tommy. You and Ellie tease Joel relentlessly. You sit with him in the evenings, sometimes singing along when he pulls out his guitar, other nights neither of you speak at all.

Slowly, you find yourself falling in love with him all over again. It’s not the same infatuation you harbored when you were young. You’re both different people. And you hardly knew him back then. Not really. What did a fourteen year old know about grown men?

The two of you fall into an easy rhythm. After being alone for such a long time, it’s magical to have a companion. Joel seems grateful for the company, too. He’s there whenever you turn around, like a promise. He’s not leaving you behind even if you’re just going from the stables to the library. 

Neither of you acknowledge it, this easy rapport. A light squeeze on your shoulder, holding your hand when you get misty eyed. He probably doesn’t mean anything by it but you’re pretty sure you can’t live without it. You bask in the sweetness of these exchanges, trying not to think too hard about the fact that you used to spend Saturday nights giggling on his daughter’s bedroom floor. 

He’s still Mr. Miller, after all. 

Autumn comes and you’re inseparable. You realize just how much when you convince him to attend the children’s choir performance in town. You expect him to demure. Watching kids being kids must be painful. But he’s by your side in the dining hall as the little ones sing “Clementine” and “Oh Susanna”. 

He puts his arm around your shoulder so you can lean into him. It might just be a paternal gesture, maybe you’re still a little girl in his eyes. That’s ok with you if he keeps absentmindedly massaging your upper arm. You can’t remember the last time you felt so safe, so loved. 

Afterwards, he walks you home and you’re in such a good mood, you start singing to yourself.

“Johnny Cash,” he says approvingly. 

You laugh to yourself. “You know, I started listening to him ‘cause of you. You had his CD in your truck,” you admit.  

You wanted to like all of the things Joel liked. He would think you were so interesting and grown up because you knew all the words to “Riders in the Sky.”

“Least I was a good influence,” Joel says, shaking his head, his cheeks turning pink. 

He’s so handsome when he blushes, you feel a little giddy when you come to stop in front of the old pharmacy. 

“G’night, darlin’,” he says, giving your hand one last squeeze. 

He waits. He’ll stand here and watch you get inside like he always does. He doesn’t need to— it’s not like people even lock their doors in Jackson— but he’s insisted on it so fervently that you stopped arguing. 

You shouldn’t do it. It’s so silly. But there’s a softness in his eyes and his gentle touch still tingles on your arm. His salt and pepper hair is caught in the string lights that line the empty street. You can’t help yourself.  

You kiss him, smoothing your palms up the front of his flannel until you sink your fingers into the curls at the base of his neck. The tip of his nose is cold from the chill in the evening air but his lips are warm and sweet. 

You haven’t had a whole lot of experience kissing. You’d just started doing it when the outbreak happened and things haven’t been very romantic since. This is one of the better ones. Relatively chaste but unbearably tender. Certainly better than you could have imagined all those years ago. 

It lasts longer than you expect. Joel kisses you back. He rests his hand on your waist and the way it covers so much of your back makes you swoon. Soon, though, he’s pulling away, cradling your cheek. 

“We shouldn’t do that,” he says.

“I know,” you sigh. You’re reluctant to break away, savoring the brush of his nose against yours. 

It’s all wrong but you’re not ashamed for trying it. 

“Just once. I’ve always wanted to,” you say. 

He presses his lips into your forehead. It feels bittersweet. A kiss you longed for for twenty years came and went. 

You wave to him from the door before you go in for the night. 

That kiss confirms Joel’s fears.

He’s spent months convincing himself that this is completely platonic. He would never have feelings for his daughter’s best friend. Even if he always wants to be around you.   

He’s looking after you, comforting you, protecting you. He’s making up for those years that he made you suffer through. You forgave him but he’ll never stop atoning. 

And then you kissed him. 

Suddenly, he’s buried in an avalanche of thoughts he’s been disavowing. 

You’re pretty and soft. You're strong and you ease the pain of his memories. You make him feel a little less alone. 

The warmth of your lips, your body pressed to his. He was ready to lose himself in you. 

That’s when he heard it. 

It was Sarah’s voice chiding him with all the reasons why this is wrong. 

She’s been in his head, his inner critic since the day she died, pointing out every failure and weakness in him. He could picture her looking down on him with disgust. She’s the same age as your daughter. She was just a kid when you met her. She deserves better than you. 

He’s making the same mistake as before, letting his instinct get the better of him. The responsible part of him takes control. He can’t give you any more reasons to try and kiss him again. 

If Joel is good at one thing it’s denying himself. 

He backs off and you can sense it, he knows you do. Sometimes he catches you looking at him and there’s a longing in your eye. It fucking kills him but it’s just another reason why he’s no good for you. 

Despite whatever it does to you, you haven’t got anybody else in Jackson so you stick around. He can only imagine how much it hurts you. 

“Why did I go north?” you complain when Joel opens the front door. You’re holding a scarf tight around your neck, shivering against the cold. The sky is a dismal shade of gray, snowfall on the horizon. 

Joel gets you in the house with a chuckle. He starts a fire, a luxury you little apartment doesn’t afford. You shiver in front of the hearth. 

“Traded for this,” you say, pulling a thick book out of your coat and tossing it onto the coffee table. 

“Oh good. I was looking for some light reading material,” Ellie quips from her spot on the couch.  

“It’s a dictionary,” you explain, “so you’ll quit cheating at Boggle.”

“You're in trouble now,” Joel laughs. 

“I don’t cheat. I just know more words than you guys,” she says. 

“Dentment is not a word,” you reply. 

“Neither is thoard,” Joel says. 

“Sure it is. I’m about to thoard the two of you in this game,” she says.

This should be enough. A winter day by the fire. The simple joy of a board game. Laughter. This is practically a normal life. 

But each time Joel’s eyes fall on you, there’s a pang in his chest. You’re just close enough that he could reach out and touch you but he won’t. He can’t.  

When the sun sets, Ellie retreats to her room. Eventually, you fall asleep on the couch, wrapped up in a quilt as the fire dies down. You look even younger, curled up serenely. There’s no worry on your brow. Usually your face is in a perpetual frown even when you’re not in a mood.   

The snow is already knee deep with no signs of slowing. There’s no sense in sending you back out there. 

Joel scoops you up as gently as he can. He feels his age, back straining, but he doesn’t mind. He enjoys how you nestle your face into his chest as he mounts the stairs, warm and snug in his arms. A smile pulls at his lips. 

He sets you down carefully on his bed and you whimper groggily at the loss of his touch. Your eyes crack open. 

“Snowing pretty bad. Sleep here. I’ll be on the couch,” he whispers. 

“Stay,” you murmur. 

He hesitates. Carrying you to bed was already crossing a line. He’s not worried about keeping his hands to himself. He’s been able to control himself for this long. If he lays down next to you, feeling you warming his sheets, smelling the peppermint soap on your skin, he’ll be so far gone for you, there’ll be no coming back. 

But denying you this simple request feels cruel. He imagines you waking up here all alone. You’re half asleep but what if you remember asking him to remain only to be abandoned again?  

He gets into bed, still fully clothed and careful to stay on his side. His jaw is clenched so tightly his teeth hurt. You give a satisfied hum and sink back into sleep, your body melting into the mattress. 

Joel watches you for a moment, fights the urge to put a kiss on your forehead. He crosses his arms and stares at the ceiling, beginning to tangle with the web of emotions that accompany you. Once it gets too confusing, he drifts off as well. 

When you reach out for him in your sleep, he can’t deny you. Joel tries his hardest to pretend it doesn’t feel good, that this isn’t something he’s wanted to do. So he imagines the nightmares that come to you. Reminds himself that you wouldn’t have seen any of that shit if he hadn’t left you for dead. Now that you're in his arms, he’ll make sure nothing touches you ever again. The least he can do is hold you and make sure it goes no further. 

You both find reasons that you should stay the night. Neither of you acknowledge it. Joel just hands you one of his t-shirts and busies himself as you slip out of your clothes and get under the covers. It’s all rather innocent, Joel does more than rub your back even though you sometimes feel his morning wood through his sweatpants. If he wants you, he doesn’t let himself have you. And he could. 

It’s fine with you if cuddling is all this is. You don’t try to do anything more than that, unwilling to upset the unspoken agreement between you. You can be satisfied with a broad, firm chest to rest your back against. Sleep is better beside him, his heart beats guiding your own. The weight of his arm draped across you makes your body feel deliciously heavy.  

After a while, though, it happens. 

Joel’s having a nightmare. His murmurs and restless movements wake you. His mouth twitches and his brow is creased. You smooth circles into his shoulder until his eyes open. Even in the darkness you can see the despair in them. 

He blinks, coming back to reality, remembering he’s not wherever his dreams took him. You brush your fingers through his hair, gazing at one another as his breaths even out. Normally, his age is obvious– the lines in his forehead, the sun spots on his cheek– yet right now he looks young. Like a boy that needs to sleep with a night light. 

You’re not sure who initiates but you find each other in the dark. At first he’s not kissing you at all, his lips are just brushing your cheek or your nose. It’s sweet and gentle. You try to hold in a moan, worried that any noise might shatter this moment. 

The kisses are timid as if you’re both waiting for someone to stop this. Joel lets out a shuddering breath against you. This is a bad idea, you’re both thinking it. After you kissed him the last time, he held you at arms length. When this blows up, you’ll lose him entirely. But you need to be closer to him. 

You open your mouth to him, tangle your legs between his. His hand slides under your shirt, roaming your bare skin. You thought that snuggling under the blanket was enough but now you realize just how hungry you’ve been to be touched. Really touched. He needs it too. Joel leans into your hand on his jaw with a whimper. 

You don’t open your eyes. You might be the one dreaming and you don’t want to wake up. 

It’s quiet, just the sound of hot breaths and desperate kisses, the swish of the sheets as you shift your hips to meet his. You keep yourself from rocking against him, try to enjoy the feeling of him without crossing yet another line, but you’re aching. His shirt has ridden up so you feel the softness of his middle, the light hairs on his chest. Your fingers intertwine with his as his mouth trails down the column of your neck and. Joel buries his face there. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathes. 

You’re not sure what he’s apologizing for. This? Then? The years in between? None of it matters because you want to live in this moment forever. 

You shush him, pull him back to your mouth. You’re ready to lose yourself, to forget, to ignore the storm of thoughts constantly plaguing your mind. This is all you want. 

You peel off your clothing, helping him slide out of his sweatpants until there’s nothing between you. Joel’s skin is warm and soft against you and you realize you’ve never been this close to another soul. 

When Joel settles over you and you feel him throbbing between his legs, you shiver with nervous anticipation. You expect him to say something, to warn you that this is a bad idea, to promise this won’t change anything. But his brown eyes look as confused with need as you feel. There’s no room for thinking or it will crush this fragile moment like glass. 

You tilt your hips to allow him in, already slick from being so close to him. 

Slowly, he enters you, kissing you all the while. He makes a choked sound, wincing as his body stills. The noise makes you clench around him. 

Together you take a moment to get your bearings and you adjust to the fullness of him. Joel’s eyes are pressed shut, his teeth digging into his bottom lip. 

Before he begins to move, his thumb finds your clit, grazing it lightly. After years of solitude and now months being just out of reach of him, the sensation makes you gasp sharply. 

You’ve had sex a handful of times. They had been more about fulfilling a self destructive urge than a desire for pleasure. It’s never been like this. 

You start to lose sense of everything but the feelings of your body. Your core tenses and your breaths go short and you start to forget that it’s Joel whose hips are stuttering into you. It’s as if this euphoria can erase some of those awful memories. 

Soon you’re shattering beneath him, a crescendo that has you tugging on his hair and gasping for air. Joel grunts into your ear. He follows after you, hissing as he pulls out of you. He pulses into his hand, his release dripping from his fist onto your sweat damp skin. Then he collapses onto you. You run your fingers through his long curls and he kisses your forehead. There might be tears in your eyes– maybe his too. It’s too dark to be sure– but when his breath evens out, it still sounds ragged against you.

Eventually he gets out of bed and leaves the room and, in that moment, you can feel everything hanging over your head again– what you’ve just done, the horrors of the world. Perhaps even more intense than before. 

But Joel returns quickly. He flicks on the light on his bed side table and cleans you with a damp rag. His touch is gentle, reverent, and his dark eyes travel over your naked skin to yours. There’s a question in them, guilt, but you have no regrets. You smooth your hand out on the sheets beside you and he lays back on his pillow. He surrounds you with his massive arms and you fall asleep grateful that you don’t feel abandoned anymore.

You worry that it was just a one time thing, try to accept that it might never happen again. But the next time you share Joel’s bed, he’s pulling you into him, pressing kisses into your shoulder, nuzzling at the spot behind your ear. His hard length prods at the small of your back. 

It starts like that every time. Intimate, sensual, quiet. It’s never tearing his clothes off or pushing you up against a wall. You just stay close, breath each other in, trail fingertips across skin. Neither of you ever speak above a whisper.  

Joel barely talks at all except to ask, “That too much?” and “Feel good?” 

You live for the moments when his hand skates over your hip, his dark eyes soft. 

“Pretty,” he says almost to himself. 

He’s such a beautiful man. Your fingers trace the smooth plane of his chest, dusted lightly with hair and a few stray freckles. Age has only improved him. The greys in his stubble catch the glow from the lamp on the nightstand. You study him with the same attention to detail you used in your youth. The cleft in his bottom lip, the dimples on his lower back, the scar on his temple. You’ve memorized it all. 

Joel breaks open for you. He lets you see him vulnerable. He’ll fuck you with thrusts that shake loose deep emotions. Just as quickly, he’ll hold you together when it feels like you’re falling apart. 

You lay with him after, sticky with the shared heat of your bodies but reluctant to roll away and break the connection. 

Whatever this is, you don’t speak its name. There are too many questions and conflicts that it might not withstand. It exists only for you and him. A safe haven in the chaos, a bit of respite at the end of long years. 

In his arms, you’re not his dead daughter’s best friend. He’s not the man that left you when you needed him most. You’re just two people that need to not be alone. Each time, it’s the same. The overwhelming bliss of Joel making love to you is second only to the understanding that he’s finally come back for you. 

Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear from you. Comments and reblogs always appreciated.

#joel miller #tlou #joel miller fic #bfd!joel miller #jackson!joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fic

[generalsmemories]

Unwanted reunion

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ prompts: “catching the other one crying shortly after an argument and immediately feeling an overwhelming wave of guilt crash onto you.” + "it's okay, we can fix this..." + “playing with their hair until they fall asleep”|| 1k event

✧ contents: hurt/comfort, angst, established relationship, implied character death

✧ a/n: if u wonder how in the world i came up with the scenario below. i genuinely don't know either it's a mystery to even me. CREATIVE LIBERTY WINS AGAIN THE PROMPTS WERE LITERALLY INSPO AND NOT WRITTEN DIRECTLY INTO THE SCENARIO. also implied that this took place after the battle with phantylia so keep that in mind.

NOT BETA-READ AS USUAL FELLAS I WANTED TO HAND THIS OVER TO YA'LL ASAP AS AN APOLOGY FOR STARVING YOU ALL FOR SO LONG!! it's mild angst though, so sorry.

Jing Yuan's can feel a familiar heaviness weigh on his body as well as the feeling of someone wrapping a roll of gauze on his arm. However opening his eyes proved to be a challenge in itself and it's only with great struggle that he can manage to force them slightly open to the bright light.

The first thing he notices is the familiar ceiling of your shared home. A bit weird since whenever he did get injured he would immediately be rushed towards a private room by the Seat of Divine Foresight - which was the safest place for him to stay. Perhaps you had gotten your will again to take care of him - seeing as you're a high ranking healer yourself and quite a stubborn soul.

But his eyes still widen a tiny bit when he sees you sitting by the edge of the bed, one hand gripping his gauzed wound while your other hand is busy trying to find something to keep your hard work in place. You're humming a soft tune again, he never knows what sort of melody you're humming, only that it had become a habit for you after the amount of years you had spent by his side bandaging his battle wounds. Something about helping your mood and staying positive.

"Your recklessness knows no bounds, Jing Yuan." the sternness of your voice snaps him out of the daze he's in, immediately rising up from the bed only to groan in pain when the wounds that you had just wrapped up react to his body folding, "... And still don't know when to rest - even when I'm in the middle of treating you."

"...How much time has passed?" he asks, voice hoarse after having slept for who knows how long. You only hum, setting the bandages aside - the gesture causing Jing Yuan to follow your hand movements which makes him notice the bloodied bandages inside the trash by your legs.

"A couple of days, I was just finishing changing your bandages when you finally woke up. Here, some water." you inform, raising a glass towards his lips, patiently waiting for him to move closer.

You only start to speak again after he's taken several gulps, placing the cup of water back on the nightstand beside his bed. "Why are you so willing to throw your life away?" you ask after a moment of silence, helping Jing Yuan rest against the headboard, eyes never leaving his own that don't dare to even look into your own.

"It's my duty-"

"Your duty is to make sure as many of the Cloud Knights survive a battle. Not gamble your life on a piece that you weren't sure had the capabilities to help."

Jing Yuan bites his tongue at your immediate rebuttal, you were right after all. "The Master Diviner was right there by you. A troop was enough to guard the entrance, you didn't need to leave the master diviner with them to go on this-"

"... Can't you be happy for once whenever we meet like this?" he asks quietly, effectively stopped you from saying anything more. His gaze is cast downwards whenever he mutters the same question to you whilst shrinking a bit after asking. There's no sign of the proud general in your presence - in front of you is just Jing Yuan asking a supposedly harmless question.

Perhaps that's the reason why you can never shove him away immediately.

"... You know what my answer is."

Jing Yuan was no crier. In fact, you think he stopped crying or showing any visible sign of discomfort or uneasiness the day he got the title as General. You're pretty sure you can count the amount of times you've seen Jing Yuan cry on one hand.

Perhaps his ability to hide his own needs and wants so often day by day for the past centuries makes your dismissal of his simple wishes that more gut-wrenching for you. You try to ignore the overwhelming guilt that washes over you every time you have to say the same thing to him.

"... You have a lot of things that you want to get done on the Luofu, Jing Yuan." you murmur softly, extending a hand to run your fingers through his locks, breaking apart any knots that may have formed in his sleep.

"You know we can meet again, but now is not the time - especially now," you gently remind with a sombre smile, your hand moving from his hair to rest against his chin to make him face you.

"It's gonna be alright, okay?" he scoffs at your reassurance, finally coming to terms with your conditions once again like always, wrapping his arms around your waist to fall down back on the bed with you on top.

"Remember the last time you said those words to me?" he says, almost sounding offended at your choice of words to which you only smile against his skin in guilt.

"It was the first time I saw you cry so hard," you try to joke, pressing your hands against the mattress to push yourself off of Jing Yuan, choosing to hover above him instead.

"... I'm sorry," you decide to say in the end after a moment of silence, once again threading your fingers through his hair - an act you knew used to calm him before. At this moment though, you're not so sure.

"Why? Shouldn't I be sorry?" he asks in return, a small yawn leaving his lips as his eyes struggle to stay open. You smile bitterly as you shake your head, still threading your fingers through his hair.

"No, none of it was your fault - what happened back then was out of your control. But this time it isn't. I can wait for a long time, Jing Yuan. I know you're aware of that so don't try to rush anything to meet me again." you tell him, leaning down to press your lips against his forehead.

"So it's time to wake up, dear. Luofu is waiting for you."

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #star rail x you #hsr x you #hsr imagines #honkai star rail imagines #star rail imagines #jing yuan x reader

[shinestarhwaa]

CAM GIRL || SONG MINGI

Where Mingi learns his new flame is a camgirl

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Mingi x Camgirl!Fem reader

Word Count: 1.1K

Tags/warnings: Pornography/camgirl, first date AU, dirty language, masturbation

Taglist:

@anyamaris @a-soft-hornytiny @whatudowhennooneseesyou @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @pyeonghongrie-main @woosanbby @dreamlesswonder86 @lemonhongjoong @1-800-shedevil @changbinslovelylegs @jonghostie @lovjensoo @glintneon123 @mjyungi

ENJOY!

"You're a what now?" Mingi asked in awe. You laughed and crossed your legs as you sipped your wine. "I am a camgirl, Mingi," you answered.

"Wow. Sorry. Wow. I don't... know what to say. I have never met a... camgirl before, let alone been on a date with one," he grinned. You grinned as you felt the dry Pinot Grigio on your tastebuds. You weren't the best at handling wine but it was too delicious to reject.

"How long have you been doing that... particular job, Y/N?" He asked, taking another bite of his dessert. "Well, I started out with just revealing pictures, but honestly I enjoy the attention and decided to try it out, so I became a camgirl, that was... three years ago."

"I know it's rude to ask but you must... make a lot of money, don't you?"

You laughed and nodded. "Desperate men love to send money to naked girls." "Do you also take their requests and stuff?" "I do sometimes," you nodded. It was slightly cute, heartwarming even, the way he was so interested in your story.

"Wah," Mingi puffed out, "I'm a little taken aback." You grinned and nodded, finishing the cheesecake dessert you had been devouring. "I understand, not a lot of people confess to working in that industry," you said.

"So... So you show...everything on camera?" He asked carefully. You nodded as you finished your wine as well. "Everything," you answered, "my nickname is Dazy Rose if you wanted to check me out." Mingi started blushing from your words, making you laugh.

Mingi paid for the dinner which you've thanked him for. He drove you home and gave you a kiss goodnight. When he got home he browsed all over the internet to find you, finding your OnlyFans account and the site you do your lives on.

He felt very intrigued by the seductive profile picture and he decided to impulsively create an account so he could subscribe to your pictures. Mingi made sure to have a vague nickname (mangobanana99, don't judge him) and subscribe to you.

Mingi was so excited to look at your pictures but he also felt bad that he could see every part of your body online but you hadn't seen anything of him. That feeling was taken away soon enough when there was a ding! heard from his laptop: Dazy Rose is live.

"Really?" He mumbled, "Live after our date?" Mingi scoffed but then he realized you might expect him to be watching and searching your name right now. What if he's the one who got you turned on? Mingi decided to click and join the live. He wasn't proud of it but he had already made an account for the website anyway.

When he joined the livestream 405 people had already joined before him. "Wah, she must have a lot of fans," Mingi mumbled as he sat his laptop down on his thighs.

"Hi everyone~" your voice chimed from the speakers of his laptop.

Youknowit69: Hello my darling

Mr.sexyleo: Hi sweetie, I have been waiting for you!

Comments were flooding in as you introduced yourself for new viewers. You sat on a bed in a red lingerie set that made Mingi's mind spin. You made casual conversation with them first, making Mingi chuckle at the questions you answered.

"Have I eaten?" She was asked. Mingi's ears nearly perked up at that question and he prepared himself. Was she going to mention him?

"I certainly have, I went out to a lovely restaurant and they had the best food~ Food is pretty great when you don't have to pay for it," she joked, "I had really nice company."

Yes. There we go, nice company! Mingi felt like he won a prize as you said that. His fingers were typing a response before he even knew what he was doing.

Mangobanana69: You must've gone on a date, did the gentleman treat you well?

You laughed and nodded, "Yes, he treated me very well. He was hot too, I kinda hope he's watching so he can witness how wet his face made me."

Mingi swallowed thickly at that and felt himself harden in his slacks when you slipped your panties off and spread your legs. Wow.

Mangobanana69: what a pretty fuckin pussy

"Yeah? You like my pussy?" She smirked as she showed it off for the viewers. Mingi opened the button of his jeans and pulled down the zipper before whipping his hard cock out.

He couldn't believe he was doing this; masturbating to a livestream of a camgirl after a date with her. Normally you go out with someone and you hope to have sex eventually. But maybe you'd still wanna have sex with him soon? Either way, it was strange that he'd see your body first.

That feeling flooded away when he saw you rub your clit and softly moan out. He gasped and immediately took his cock in his hand, slowly pumping it up and down.

Mr.sexyleo: that's it babygirl, I love the way you whine

Daddy033: I wish you were here right now so I could throw you around and pound you

Mingi felt himself slightly jealous at the comments, but he saw he was just one of the 2849 people watching you touch yourself right now. He shouldn't feel jealous about this, you weren't his to begin with. Still he wanted to smack those dudes.

You fucked yourself on your fingers, moaning louder and making sure everyone could properly see your gushing hole. You even came closer to the camera and mic to show it off. Mingi lost his mind at the squelching sound and he started to pump his cock faster, moaning your name.

The sound of your moans got Mingi releasing earlier than expected, his cum coating his hand. Mingi sighed as he laid there, staring at the screen, watching you fuck yourself on the biggest dildo he's ever seen. Post-nut guilt was hard on him but he couldn't close his laptop, he wanted to watch you unravel for him. Except it wasn't for him.

It took a few more minutes for you to cum, showing off all the spasms from your pretty pussy to the camera. He smiled as he watched you regain your breath again. After coming down from your high you thanked all the viewers and apologized for the short live tonight. Mingi left the live and quickly cleaned himself up.

That's when he heard a message pop up on his phone and it happened to be you. He checked it quickly, mouth falling open when he read what it said.

"Come over. NOW."

And he wasted no time.

#kpop #ateez #smut #song mingi #mingi #mingi x reader #oneshot #shinestarhwaa

[vanishingcherry]

Hey Leah, hope you’re doing good. If you’re taking requests, please could I get either Charles or Lando x fem reader. I had a really shitty day and my friends seem really distant and I feel super sad. Thank you x

PIANO LESSONS

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

author's note: heyy! im so sorry about your day... i hope you're feeling better now 🥰. im sorry its a bit late, ive just been in a writing slump and didn't have anything finished. ive had this in my drafts for a while tho so here you go!

masterlist

๑ ⋆˚₊⋆────ʚ˚ɞ────⋆˚₊⋆ ๑

It was summer break, which meant Charles was home for over 2 weeks and you had him all to yourself. Granted, you did have days in which you would go out with family and friends, but it was a manner of speaking. It meant that you would be together almost 24/7 for days at a time, something rare in his career.

That was why the two of you had pre-decided to make the most of it. Charles felt guilty sometimes, about not being, in his words, the boyfriend you deserved. Although you had told him multiple times that he was perfect, he held on to that insecurity, which is why you went along with everything he planned, knowing that all he wanted to do was spend time with you.

You could honestly say you had been on more dates in the last week than you had so far in the year. There were the simple dinner dates, movie dates, hiking dates and also the more unique ones, such as the one that ended with, for some reason, throwing paint on each other.

But with all that, there were also the more quiet days. The days in which the two of you would stay in your apartment all day long. Those were your favourite days. There was something special about being able to wake up late, not having to worry about work or some sort of event.

"Have you been awake a while?" you whisper, shifting so that you would be closer to him, tucking your head under his own as he continues to run his fingers through your hair.

"Ouais." he murmurs. Yeah. "Mais c'est bien. I like looking at you."

It was another one of these days, and you were coming back from the kitchen with a snack when you heard the soft notes of the piano. Smiling, you switched off your phone and walked into the makeshift studio you and Charles had converted a guest bedroom into.

He had taken piano lessons during quarantine, and you had never been happier with his decision. There would be times in which you would come home from work, the sound of music immediately putting you in a state of relaxation.

You stand in the doorway, watching as his fingers dance across the keys. A few minutes later, when he stops playing, you walk over and sit next to him.

"What piece was that?" you ask softly, not wanting to speak too loud. You rest your head on his shoulder, offering him a chip from your bowl.

"Did you like it?" he replies, answering with a question of his own.

"Yeah, it was beautiful. I loved it."

"It's mine. I made it." he admits sheepishly. "I was just trying something out."

"REALLY? Oh my god, amour!" Your eyes widen at his words, head turning towards him in disbelief.

"Yeah. You actually like it?"

"Yes, of course! Oh my god, bebe. How did you- I'm so proud."

He shyly smiles at your praise, before piping up. "Do you want me to teach you?"

"Your song?" you ask, clearly excited.

"Well" he starts. "Maybe not my song right now, but I can teach you an easier song... and then we can work up to my song?"

"Ouais! I can't believe I never thought of that before."

He smiles at your enthusiasm before wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer to him. He then gently takes your hands, placing them on the keys, keeping his fingers over your own. He looks at your expressing for a few seconds, unable to stop the smile from creeping on his face as he realises just how special you are.

"You press this finger and this finger at the same time, and hold it for a second" he directs, after shaking his head to focus, pressing down on the right keys.

You follow his directions, going over ever note a few times before moving on. He was patient, overly so, helping you with the biggest grin as you ask him to repeat the last few steps.

Before you knew it, it had been over an hour, and you had learnt quite a bit of what Charles was teaching you. At this point, both of your attention spans were low, and there wasn't a lot of playing going on. Rather, it was you trying to get through the last few notes before a break while Charles lightly tickled your sides, proving to be an annoyingly cute distraction.

"I think I'm done for today" you sigh, shifting slightly to rest your back against Charles.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm tired." you say.

He nods sympathetically before standing up and pulling on your hands to make you do the same.

"You go to bed and put something on the TV, okay? I'll make dinner and be there soon."

"Are you sure? Do you want me to help?"

"It's just pasta" he replies, shrugging and lightly pushing you in the direction of the bedroom.

"Okay... but I want mine al dente", you emphasize. "Not croccante"

liked by arthurleclerc, scuderiaferrari and 309,857 others

yourusername thanks for the piano lesson @.charlesleclerc

view all 8,547 comments

charlesfan oh to have charles as a piano teacher

scuderiaferrari couple goals

ynfan AUS23 yn's pov when

charlesleclerc of course ❤️... same time tomorrow?

↳ yourusername i'd love to

#vanishingcherry #leah writes ──⋆˚₊⋆ ๑ #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #f1 #formula 1 #charles leclerc #formula one #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc instagram edit #charles lecrelc #charles leclerc instagram au #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc fluff

[gimmethatagustd]

bad boy, good lips | pjm + jhs

Hoseok is a superhero's sidekick. Jimin is a villain. They make it work.

○ Pairing: Villain!Jimin x Sidekick!Hoseok (from Falling Into You)

○ Rating: Explicit/18+

○ Genre: Fantasy, superheroes/superpowers, college au, slice of life, on-and-off relationship, smut

○ 7 / 100 Drabble Challenge (Superhero)

○ Word Count: 2,952

○ Warnings: This is just a blow job scene basically so don't read it if you don't like it

○ Notes: I highly recommend reading the series before reading this! Alternatively, if you like this, then you'll probably like the series even more. The series is one I'm super proud of, and it's mostly fluff about how cute Yoongi is so all the Yoongi stans rise up 🤭

○ Post Date: February 3, 2024

○ Masterlist | Send me ur thots

○ What was Jai listening to? CLEARED (remix) - Lilithzplug

“Two superheroes, a sidekick, and a villain walk into a bar–”

“–and the superheroes pay for the drinks because they’ll be the ones with all the fame and glory,” Jimin finishes Yoongi’s sentence with a sharp grin. 

“Jimin-ah,” Yoongi huffs as he holds the door open for his friends. 

Jimin lets Hoseok and Taehyung enter first. Jimin knows that if he and Hoseok go first, then Taehyung will awkwardly try to get Yoongi to enter the bar before he does, even though Yoongi is the one holding the door, and then Taehyung will trip on his way inside and embarrass himself. As funny as Taehyung’s crush on Yoongi is, it can be painful to sit through – even now, when Yoongi and Taehyung are officially dating. 

Jimin may be a villain, but he isn’t a sadist. 

Besides, one highly possible outcome is that Taehyung gets all flustered and makes plants start shooting out of the ground, completely ruining the friends’ night out celebrating the end of finals. Boo.  

Jimin turns around to stick his tongue out at Yoongi, ignoring the wide-eyed look on Taehyung’s face. The poor kid is so terrified of him that he’d buy the whole bar a round of shots if Jimin asked him to. It’s funny. Jimin is virtually harmless. 

“Don’t Jimin-ah me, Min Yoongi. You can’t argue against this; I am all-knowing.” 

In front of him, Hoseok snorts. It’s difficult to know what he has found amusing since Hoseok is always, intentionally or not, swimming in the inner thoughts of everyone around him. Jimin has long since gotten over the unnerving reality that his best friend can hear his thoughts. If anything, Hoseok should be thankful to Jimin. Having access to Jimin’s thoughts means having access to all the little glimpses of the future that flit through his head. Hoseok has said it’s challenging to sort through the mess of scenes, understandably so. It has taken Jimin years to gain control over his power of precognition. 

“You are not all-knowing. You’re a glorified fortune teller,” Hoseok teases, confirming that his earlier snort was in response to Jimin’s cocky comment. 

“Hyung, how dare you?” Jimin gasps as the four men find a booth near the back of the bar. 

It’s a classic dive bar, dimly lit and vaguely smokey. The wooden table isn’t sticky when Jimin presses his palm against the surface as he slides into the booth, so that’s a win – not that he didn’t already know it wouldn’t be. Rare is it that anything surprises Jimin. He tries not to focus his energy on decoding the scenes that flit through his mind like specks of dust sparkling in the sunlight. Learning to shoo them away has taken time and diligent practice as a villain trainee.

Hoseok sits opposite Jimin, also sliding into the booth first. Taehyung quickly follows Hoseok without sparing Jimin a glance, leaving Yoongi to sit beside Jimin. They all already know that Yoongi will be the one to get their drinks from the bar once everyone decides on what they want. Though healing is Yoongi’s superpower, his entire personality is thoughtful and gentle.

The kindness of it all disgusts Jimin just as much as it fascinates him.

Sometimes, Jimin wonders if Yoongi can heal whatever part of Jimin made him a villain. It isn’t that Jimin minds that this is the path he has chosen for himself; after all, he knows what would’ve happened if he had chosen the path of a hero or sidekick. The thought of becoming something else makes Jimin’s brain itch.

A kick to the shin forces Jimin to blink, ripping his eyes from Yoongi’s profile to stare at Hoseok’s frown from across the table. Hoseok knows what Jimin is thinking, and Jimin doesn’t need words to understand him.

Hoseok believes Jimin is perfect the way he is. The narcissist inside Jimin agrees.

“Can someone pass me the specialty drink menu?” Taehyung chirps from the other end of the table. He speaks cutely, like he always does, each note sounding as sweet as he smells, floral yet a bit earthy, dirt beneath half-bitten nails.

Looking up from his phone, Hoseok eyes the menu where it’s propped up against the wall by a napkin holder. The laminated sheet is definitely sticky; Jimin doesn’t need supernatural qualities to tell him that. Luckily, with Hoseok around, there’s no need to touch the grimey thing. It takes little effort for him to use his telekinesis to lift the menu from one end of the table and gently drop it with his mind in front of Taehyung.  

“How did your examinations go, Hobah?” Yoongi asks while he leans on his forearms to get closer to Taehyung so they can both review the menu.

“Ah, the usual,” Hoseok shrugs with a slight pout, “Combat still fucks me over, but Jimin has been helping me, so my scores should be much higher this semester.”

“Is that allowed?” Taehyung’s bright eyes slide from Hoseok to Jimin.

Wiggling a little in his seat, Jimin bites back a cocky grin.

“It isn’t not allowed,” Jimin settles on saying, punctuating his statement with an airy laugh.

He isn’t lying. As far as he knows, no rules at the various universities in Seoul prohibit superhero and sidekick trainees from fraternizing with villain trainees. Of course, it isn’t the smartest thing to do. Secret sharing across enemy lines can only come back to bite someone in the ass. Is Jimin disadvantaged because Hoseok has an intimate understanding of his combat style? Will Hoseok come to regret letting Jimin know his weaknesses?

Running his tongue along his bottom lip, Jimin watches Hoseok with his pretty lips parted in a slight smirk. Hoseok has more weaknesses than just poor combat skills.

“If you need anything, let me know,” Yoongi offers.

“Do you think I would hurt him?” Jimin plays affronted, and Yoongi sees right through it.

Yoongi sighs, but his lips quirk with a smile when he and Taehyung share a small look.

“Just figure out what you want to order, yeah?”

After the three tell Yoongi their drink orders, he leaves the table to relay the information to the bartender at the counter. It only takes about three seconds before Taehyung shoots out of his seat, muttering something about helping Yoongi carry their drinks before the kid scrambles toward the bar counter.

“You freak him out,” Hoseok observes with a chuckle that Jimin mimics.

“I can’t imagine why.”

“It’s how sneaky you act.” Hoseok props his elbow on the table and holds his chin in his hand. “Like you know something he doesn’t.”

Jimin grins, teeth bright and sharp.

“But I do.”

“Mmm…” Hoseok’s dark eyes start straight into Jimin’s gray ones.

Looking for something? Jimin thinks, his grin spreading when Hoseok’s cheeks flush pink.

“Nothing in particular.”

You’re cute when you’re nosy.

“I hear; I don’t listen.”

Jimin scoffs, eyes rolling despite his playful expression.

Liar.

A blunt laugh punches out of Hoseok’s chest. He looks across the bar to see Yoongi and Taehyung hold hands while they wait for their drinks.

“You could be a villain if you wanted,” Jimin murmurs, careful not to talk too loudly in case other bar patrons are as nosy as his telepathic friend. “Your powers are perfect for it, and you have a certain… flair.”

“I would never.”

“Too good for it?” Jimin’s grin is impossibly bright.

Hoseok chews his bottom lip for a moment. It's shiny with spit when he releases it from between his teeth.

“Something like that,” he admits, leaning back against his seat.

Ignoring Hoseok’s non-answer, Jimin rests both forearms on the table and leans forward, making up for the distance Hoseok put between them when he rested against the back of the booth.

“Would you like to know what I see in your future, Hobi hyung?” Jimin purrs. 

“You already know the answer.” 

“I want you to say it anyway.” 

“Fine,” Hoseok concedes with a cheery smile, “I would love to know what you see in my future, JimJam.”

“I see you pressed against the bathroom door of this shitty bar while I suck you off so good you start crying.”

Evil satisfaction bubbles in Jimin’s hot veins when Hoseok closes his eyes and slowly inhales, pulling his upper body up and inward. It takes time to recover from Jimin’s bluntness, though Hoseok should be accustomed to his behavior. Never one to run out of confidence, Jimin has thousands of possibilities flipping through his brain like a Rolodex, each categorized by the probability of Jimin getting the best outcome for his personal gain.

Seducing Hoseok was one of Jimin’s personal bests.

“There is no future in which you can resist me,” Jimin had cooed in Hoseok’s ear the first time they fucked.

It was quick and hardly memorable, both of them young college kids heavily intoxicated, too worried about shoving each other in the bathroom of some random house party and getting their skinny jeans around their thighs to care about much else. Heroes, villains — none of it mattered.

Still, none of it does.

“Yoongi hyung is thinking about the face masks he bought to use later tonight with Taehyung,” Hoseok says carefully, finally opening his eyes. He watches their friends at the bar. “Tae wants to go home because he’s tired. And because you freak him out. He’s giving himself a two-drink max.”

When Hoseok turns back around, Jimin is already getting up.

“It’s going to take them a while to get our drinks. That bitch in the pink will cut Yoongi in line, and he’ll be too nice to say anything,” Jimin gestures with a jerk of his head in the direction of a girl inching toward the bar.

As the two men pass the bar counter on their way to the bathroom, Jimin lightly touches the elbow of the girl in the pink halter top.

“God, it’s taking a while, isn’t it?” he whines with a pout. The girl’s frown deepens.

“Yes! Like, what the fuck! I don’t understand why they only have one bartender when it’s getting so busy.”

Meddling with the future isn’t something Jimin believes in. No, he prefers to… leave suggestions sprinkled about, nothing major. Planting seeds is better than bulldozing trees. Miss Pink Halter Top was going to be a bitch about the service anyway; Jimin only gave her a little push in the right direction. 

Smug and satisfied with himself, Jimin laces his fingers with Hoseok’s. They’re far more graceful slipping into the single-person bathroom in the back of the bar than they had been at that college party nearly four years ago. Experience has allowed Jimin to know how Hoseok likes being touched, kissed, and cared for.

Comfortable with the veil of protective mystery that comes with an on-and-off relationship, Jimin doesn’t worry about what Hoseok does when they aren’t together; he knows he’s the only one who can treat Hoseok right.

Besides, Jimin knows every possible end to their relationship; all he ever sees is the two of them, hand-in-hand.

The moment Hoseok locks the bathroom door behind them, Jimin falls to his knees in front of him. Hoseok looks good from this angle, jaw sharp and eyes narrowed when he peers down at Jimin’s expecting mouth.

“Stop thinking about how pretty I am,” Hoseok rolls his eyes, but his cheeks flush bright pink, and a heart-shaped smile brightens his face. “It’s embarrassing when you have your face against my…” He waves at his crotch.

“Relax, hyung,” Jimin purrs, biting the zipper of Hoseok’s pants and tugging while he opens the button with his fingers.

Toned and impossibly smooth, Hoseok’s thighs quiver as Jimin tugs his jeans and briefs halfway down, far enough to free his cock. It hangs limp, not yet hard, but Jimin knows in more ways than one that it won’t take long to get Hoseok worked up.

All Jimin has to think about is them fucking, and Hoseok is already whimpering.

“You have to tell me if someone’s coming,” Hoseok whispers. The back of his head stutters and thuds against the bathroom door when he lets his head fall back.

“Won’t you hear them?”

“I can’t—” Hoseok inhales sharply when Jimin flicks his wet tongue across the tip of his cock. “I can’t concentrate.”

Suckling the head of Hoseok’s cock, Jimin hums lightly in understanding, though he doesn’t care if someone comes. The door is locked. Even if Hoseok is loud, Jimin won’t find it in him to feel bad. There’s a second bathroom people can use; they aren’t doing anything bad.

This behavior is elementary, vanilla, and amateur. Jimin would love to do worse.

Jimin opens his mouth wider to take more of Hoseok’s cock down his throat, sucking with hollowed cheeks and letting spit bubble at the corners of his mouth. Messy head is neither good nor bad for Jimin, but he loves how vocal Hoseok becomes when he wets his cock, all slick and warm.

“Fuck,” Hoseok moans through a shuddery breath. 

Hoseok’s eyes squeeze shut, and he quickly lifts the hem of his hoodie to keep it out of the way when Jimin begins bobbing his head.

Fully hard, Hoseok’s cock twitches in Jimin’s hand when he pumps the base where he doesn’t reach with his mouth. He could swallow Hoseok whole, but the little golden speckles of future flickering in Jimin’s mind tell him that a little twist of his wrist is going to make Hoseok cum faster. Not that Jimin wants to keep this short, but he’s in a generous mood and doesn’t want to leave Taehyung and Yoongi waiting too long.

“Just, just like that.” Hoseok digs his fingers in Jimin’s silky pink hair using his free hand. He doesn’t push; he just scratches his nails against Jimin’s scalp as tingling encouragement.

Taking more of Hoseok into his mouth, Jimin maintains a consistent pace. His lips redden and swell, getting hot and spit-slicked as they stretch around Hoseok’s cock. He licks the underside and hums in satisfaction when Hoseok’s hips stutter.

It’s hard and fast how Jimin works his cock while Hoseok does his best to keep his back plastered to the bathroom door and his heart-shaped mouth shut. Little whimpers escape his pretty lips, but he’s always been vocal. It’s one of Jimin’s favorite things about him.

“Jimin,” Hoseok whispers, a warning Jimin doesn’t need.

Putting a bit of pressure on Hoseok’s balls as he holds his cock, Jimin lightly squeezes them, rubbing his thumb against the soft skin. That, combined with the ruthless pace of Jimin swallowing Hoseok’s cock, finally has Hoseok shaking under him.

“Shit shit shit.”

It hurts how hard Hoseok pulls his hair, but Jimin doesn’t care. Jimin keeps his gray eyes locked on Hoseok as he cums, pulling back far enough to let his cum spurt on his tongue. If it were another day and another place, Hoseok would lean back a bit further.

“Good?” Jimin asks sweetly after showing Hoseok that he has swallowed.

Hoseok nods weakly and finally uncurls his fingers from Jimin’s hair. It’s mechanical, as though his body isn’t yet his own, his orgasm temporarily stealing his autonomy from him.

With Hoseok’s help, Jimin rises to his feet. His knees ache from kneeling on the hard concrete floor, and the denim is dusty. Jimin would like to think he has a little more class than getting on his knees in a dingy bar bathroom, but when it comes to Hoseok, he’s willing to make compromises.

Jimin is hard, too. Hoseok’s eyes drop to the bulge in his jeans, but Jimin presses his fingers against the underside of his chin to lift his head.

I’m fine.

Sometimes, it’s nice not to have to say things out loud.

Sweat makes Hoseok’s blonde bangs stick to his forehead. Jimin brushes the hair from his face and admires the pink glow highlighting his features. For a long time, he thought he’d never find someone to pull those vulnerable, uncomfortable emotions out of him: affection and love.

Hoseok, though? There’s something about him that’s different.

“You know I love you too, right?” Hoseok asks with creeping hands wrapping around Jimin’s waist.

His turn to be shy, Jimin scoffs and turns his cheek to Hoseok when he leans in for a kiss.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mhm,” Hoseok’s smile is there in the sounds he makes; Jimin doesn’t need to see it. “What are the odds Taehyung and Yoongi will ditch us?”

Sometimes, Jimin wonders if the illness Taehyung had might happen to him, too, though he knows it’s unlikely. Taehyung’s powers are nothing like Jimin’s. Still, Jimin feels something tighten and twist in his chest when he thinks about how good it is to be loved by Hoseok.

“We could go out there and be honest about what we were doing, and they’ll complain but eventually get over it,” Jimin explains, his fingers finding Hoseok’s to intertwine with them at his hips, “Or we pretend like nothing happened, and they’ll be uncomfortable the rest of the night, wondering.”

The smirk that blossoms across Hoseok’s face is prettier than any flower Jimin has ever seen.

“Let’s make them suffer,” Hoseok laughs when Jimin’s eyebrows raise.

“Oh? Is someone playing the villain today?”

Pulling Jimin into a hug, Hoseok nuzzles the side of his neck.

“You’re a bad influence on me, JimJam. But I like it.”

Triumphant, Jimin grabs the back of Hoseok’s head and pulls him into a kiss. Despite the taste of Hoseok on Jimin’s tongue, the kiss is innocent and slow. What Jimin can’t verbalize, he can give Hoseok through his thoughts and actions. For now, that’s all they need.

@jooniesxbby @taegeum @chimmisbae @yoonminkookk

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Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories. 

All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd​ - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd & daddytaehyungie). Request an AO3 account here.

#bts fanfic #hoseok fanfic #bts smut #hoseok smut #100 drabble challenge #jai writes #gimmethatagustd #fiy #bbgl #jihope fanfic

[munsons-melody]

eddie's death

summary: you were there with him in the upside down when the demobats attacked, leaving you to witness the death of the love of your life, eddie

pairing: eddie munson x female!henderson!reader

cw: death

recommended song: featured audio clip / lovely by billie eilish & khalid

word count: 1.7k

a/n: my goal was to make someone cry if they read this but it backfired on me bc i sobbed writing this. also i made this audio myself so pls no reposting it to any other site w/o my permission

masterlist

i do not consent to having any of my works republished, translated, or posted to any other site except here. if you see my works anywhere but tumblr, it has been republished without my knowledge, consent, or permission.

-

you never meant for it to happen. you never meant for your boyfriend to get wrapped up in all of this but here you were, trying to defeat some evil creature of an alternate dimension together in hopes to save the world

you had just finished hearing your boyfriend play the famous chords of Master of Puppets.

the song you heard him listen to for hours on end after it came out, the song you would hear him strum on his guitar while you were sitting in his bed admiring how well he played, and unbeknownst to you, the song that was going to serve as his last performance

“most metal ever!” dustin and eddie screamed as they came back into eddie's trailer

"i'm so proud of you!" you squeal, giving him a giant hug and a kiss on the cheek

you were so proud that this plan was going smoothly so far...

oh how you wish you would've known

but the clang of metal above you continued to drum fear into your heart as the demo bats started to rain down onto Eddie's trailer

everyone knew the plan. everyone knew not to stray away from the plan, and god you wished eddie would've too

after helping dustin back through the gate into hawkins, Eddie went to lift you up when he suddenly stopped you and looked you dead in the eye,

"here," he said, handing you his guitar pick necklace, and you looked taken aback 

"but why?" you ask and he gave a small smile before your eyebrows started to furrow, realising what he was insinuating 

"god, eddie no, nothing will happen to you, i promise" you tried to reason but he didn't want to hear it

“i love you y/n, but please forgive me” he said, before shoving the necklace into your hand and hoisting you up through the air causing you to fall through the gate and land on your back on the mattress

the mattress from his bed where you spent many nights with him, laughing, smiling, kissing...

now you laid on it, watching the him act on a deadly heroic deed in order to save a town that hated him

“eddie!” you scream with confusion. you hoped he’d hear you and follow you back to where it was safe, that the conversation you just had was nothing more than an anxious thought, but that was proven untrue when you looked back up at the gate

he looks at you and dustin one last time before cutting the makeshift rope of sheets

“eddie no!” you scream again as your hand stretched out in a last ditch effort to somehow stop the events of your worst nightmare unfolding

“shit shit shit what is he doing?” dustin yells, and you look at him, pure fear and adrenaline coursing through your veins 

"chairs" is all you manage to say before quickly grabbing the one next to the table and setting it up under the gate. the chairs weren't tall enough to reach the gate, so you quickly jump down, running to the side table next to the couch, stacking the chair on top 

"once you get up you jump through" you told him. your mind was racing, there was no other thought occurring besides eddie 

dustin quickly climbed up and did his best to jump through the gate when you heard a thud and a loud crack

seconds later, dustin was screaming out in agony when it clicked what had happen 

"dustin!" you yell, climbing up the same table and chair he just did

you use all your strength left to jump into the gate, flipping down onto the mattress next to a screaming dustin 

"oh my god!" you scream, helping dustin sit up 

"jesus christ!" he sobbed out, but neither of you focused on his injury for long, both knowing the high stakes of eddie being out there all alone

"can you stand?" you ask him and he shook his head

your arm went under his in attempts to help him stand, not helping much but giving him some form of movement to head out of the trailer with 

you heard a crash and scream from outside the trailer, the scream sounded like Eddie and you hoped and prayed there was a god out there to help keep him safe, that it wasn't him screaming, somehow he was fighting off every bat, not attaining any injuries

when you heard the loud noise, dustin and you looked at each other in fear, and you both scrambled to get out of the trailer, when the second you went out the door and caught sight of eddie,your heart dropped as your blood ran cold

you helped dustin run over to eddie, the two of you collapsing next to him

"eddie jesus you need to go a hospital right now" you say, trying to pick him up

"help me!" you scream at dustin, long forgetting about his fresh injury that happened moments before

the two of you try and help him up, but he's struggling to do anything by lie there on the ground 

"wait no just give me a minute" he snapped and you laid him gently back onto the ground, lifting his head up onto your lap for support

"i didn't run away this time, right?" he started and you knew what was happening, it all clicked.

your boyfriend was dying in your arms.

"shh, eddie, you're going to be okay i promise" you reason, trying to wipe the blood off of his face 

"you're going to be okay and we're going to get you to a doctor and soon you'll be right back to normal" you continued, starting to sob

"and I'm going to graduate right?" he asked with a struggling smile, his breathing getting more choppy as he tried to remain calm 

"i think it's my year henderson" he said, reaching a hand up to wipe your tears that seemed to flow like river. even when dying, he always wanted to make sure your tears were dry, one of the many selfless acts of the man you love.

but it didn't stop the tears, if anything just watching him act that way on his deathbed reminded you again why you loved eddie munson 

"i think it's finally my year" he spit out, the two of you both struggling to breathe. 

"it's your year and you're going to do so many great things" you tell him, gripping his hand tight 

"i love you man," he tells dustin, who's just as teary eyed as you

"i love you too eddie" dustin sobs out as he tried to stop the bleeding 

"y/n" he croaked out", and you looked at him as best you could with your blurry teared vision 

"yes eddie?" you ask in attempts to breathe but nothing seemed to slow down your heart which you believed would burst at any minute 

"remember that day in the cafeteria? when you and i first met?" he asked, and you nodded intently. it was the best day of your life. it didn't matter that he ruined your favorite sweater when he accidentally ran into you, spilling your lunch everywhere, because the second you locked eyes, you knew you needed him in your life one way or another 

and low and behold that's what occurred through date nights at the hideout watching him and his band play, late night picnics at lovers lake, helping him create campaigns for hellfire even though you were completely lost on everything going on in DnD, the times he snuck into your bedroom window late at night to comfort you after calling him at 3 am from a bad dream, the countless times you rewatched your favorite movie just because he wanted to hear you say all the lines you knew by heart, the early mornings in his trailer watching the sunset and seeing wayne get home from work...

"of course" you say, nodding to him

"that was the most important moment of my life, cause that was the moment i fell in love with the most beautiful girl in the world" he stuttered out, breathing even more shallow than it was before 

"oh eddie" you manage to mutter out, your breathing erratic, sobs flying out of your body

you stare at him intently, waiting for him to mutter out another word to give you some sense of hope that he was still with you but when he failed to say another word you felt your entire earth shatter around you 

you screamed. 

the scream you let out was one of terror and heartbreak, almost like something out of a movie.

your throat was sore, your face was numb, and your vision was completely blocked by the tears

the screams continued. it was the only thing soothing the worst pain you've ever felt in your entire life 

and you stayed like that for what seemed like hours, holding onto eddie for dear life, praying you'd feel his chest move or see his eyes blink but nothing happened

all you could hear was tour own screaming. your own sobbing. 

the only thing you could feel was the numbness in your body soon taking over.

you didn't even hear when steve, robin, and nancy returned to the trailer to see you sobbing over eddie's body.

you didn't hear the gasp nancy let out, the cries robin had, or the stomping of steve's boots coming up behind you 

"y/n we need to leave" steve said with urgency, but you couldn't move. you wouldn't move.

"y/n please we have to go" steve yelled, starting to wrap his arms around you in efforts to pull you away but you didn't move

it took all of steve and robin to pull you off of him, but even when you couldn't feel eddie's body in your arms, it seemed like your whole body shut down

steve immediately picked you up and held you bridal style back into eddie's trailer to where the gate was

but you didn't care

your body was frozen. you would've been fine if they had all gone through the gate and left you there. 

you stared at the ceiling, wanting some form of thought to occur other than the one you were trying to process, the one you just lived, the one you'll keep reliving.

nancy and robin took to create another makeshift rope to replace the one eddie had cut and within minutes, you were thrown back into what the others considered the 'normal world '

but to you, it was purgatory.

fin. 

#eddie munson #stranger things #dustin henderson #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff #eddie x fem!reader #eddie blurb #eddie x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #munsons-melody

[inkedobsidian]

~ Maybe I am - D.O ~

summary: Dylan accompanies Y/N to her high school reunion.

pairing: Dylan O'Brien x Reader

warnings: none!

word count: 1,461

a/n: Requests are open! Prompt list is there if you guys want extra ideas!

Master-List - Prompts

"Y/N you can't just not go to your high school reunion, it's been 5 years what about all the friends you had that you miss?" Dylan asks as he's laid down on the couch in Y/N 's trailer in between shoots. Even though he's not looking at her he can tell she's glaring at him considering they'd been best friends since the start of the show in 2011. As he turns his body to sit up Y/N remained to glare at him with one eyebrow raised.

"I can not go to a high school reunion." She says shaking her head and looking back at her computer trying to ignore the nagging Dylan who is judging her from a distance.

"Why not? You're in a TV show and I'm your best friend so you're clearly going to rock it." The more Dylan nags the more Y/N realizes she could go but at the same, she would probably rather die than see anyone she went to school with.

"No, you don't understand I wasn't popular, in the slightest. I was the weird loner who wore superhero shirts every day and was part of the drama club and always swore she was going to be an actress. Stereotypical weirdo loner. Not like cute season 1 Stiles where the popular girl doesn't notice me but is still cute. The people at my school were the worst and that will not have changed." Y/N says laughing as she finishes her mini-rant. As she stops ranting she looks up at Dylan who is still smirking at the fact she called him cute. As soon as Y/N realized why Dylan was smirking she grabbed the pillow that she was resting on and threw it at his face hitting him in his nose.

"I'll go if you go," Y/N announces shocking Dylan with her proposal. Although he's taken aback by the ask he's also glad that out of everyone she wants him to be there.

"I didn't go to that high school wh-"

"Just pretend to be my date," Y/N asks with a smile which makes Dylan laugh at the sight off. He knows he's gonna say yes because why not meet some of her old friends? If she had any?

2 days had passed and Y/N was currently stood in her old bedroom in front of a full-length mirror as she slightly shakes with anxiety at the thought of being back in her old school again. The dress she wore she kept from one of the parties Holland had dragged her too so obviously the dress was fabulous. The invitation didn't really state HOW to dress but Y/N remembers the people she used to be in school with so she chose a black, off the shoulder, a thigh-high dress that stuck to all of her curves. The black 4" ankles boots complimented the figure and made her legs look slimmer and she put the final touches of her hair and makeup together.

The closer the time got to need to be there the weaker her legs felt, although Hollywood is scary nothing will ever compare to high school, and being back there makes her so afraid. As she finally walked into the living room everyone stopped to stare. Her mom looked at her with wide eyes and a proud smile. Her father just looked at his little girl adoringly knowing how afraid she was. Dylan couldn't do anything but smile, he's seen her at premieres and red carpets but he always had the same reaction. It was like he was seeing her for the first time every time and he was happy that she was his best friend.

"Okay, can we just leave now I'm starting to freak out?" Y/N laughs with her voice shaking. Dylan just mutters a yeah sure and stands up leaving the door open for Y/N.

"I'll have her back by 10, Miss (L/N)!" Dylan yells out from the car.

"Dylan you've known me for 5 years call me (Mom's name)!" Your mom yells back laughing at his reply.

The closer they got to the high school the more people Y/N started to recognize. As she rubs her hands together there are no words to describe her fears right now. Pulling into the parking lot made everything a lot worse more than she could describe. All Dylan did was hold her hand and give it a quick squeeze before stepping out of the car and walking around to Y/N's side to let her out of the car, or help her out he should say.

The pair just walked in silence inside the school but Dylan kept his hand intertwined with Y/N considering he had no idea where to actually go. He also couldn't deny that he loved holding hands with Y/N whether it was on or offset. The streamers lined the hallway and there were already people dotting the hallways next to what Dylan assumed to be their old lockers. They noticed Y/N and Dylan hand in hand and some stopped to even see if they knew who she was because they couldn't recognize her at first glance.

The hallway made it so much more surreal as there was a table full of pins with all the names on and sat at the table was the valedictorian smiling brightly.

"Hi, how can I help you today?!" She gleamed as Y/N just quietly searched through the names. She picked up the one with her name on it and just showed it to the girl while smiling.

"Oh my god Y/N! I thought you were in LA, I didn't expect you to answer my email!" She says standing up and hugging a shocked Y/N.

"Thank Emily I'm here so… I'm gonna get a drink. This is my plus one, his name is Dylan." Y/N says rather quietly before just walking away leaving Dylan to get his own name tag. As she stood with her back to the hall she just drank away at the punch hoping that someone somewhere had spiked the punch. Luckily enough someone had and she could tell. However, she was not drunk enough for what was about to happen. She turned around to see Dylan talking to some of the old jocks in her year, knowing that the Mets were a big supported team in this high school. Hearing him laugh made her smile widely looking at how happy he looks all dressed up. Then the moment arrived where she wished she'd been more intoxicated

"Y/N?" A male voice spoke behind her. As she slowly spun around recognizing the voice from behind her. She came face to face with her ex (Ex's name/ or crush). Trying to smile like she was happy to see him her entire body went stiff when he hugged her. However, she quickly loosened up when she did not react, no butterflies. Nothing.

"I'm happy to see you, it's been 5 years. How're you doing?" He asks smiling. There was never anything bad you could say about him because he always cared for Y/N. First love, kindest teenager ever. Even understood when she broke up with him before she left for Teen wolf.

"I'm great (Ex). I'm really glad to see you, you're doing well." Y/N smiles now knowing she's okay to talk without any awkward feelings in the way.

"Well it's been 5 years, I've now got a girlfriend who is actually here talking to…. the person you walked in with actually." He smiles. Y/N turned around to see Dylan talking to a lovely short blonde woman who is staring at (ex) with loving eyes as she's talking.

"Yeah that's Dylan, he's my costar on Teen Wolf, I've known him for 5 years now." Y/N smiles while looking off at Dylan who catches her eye and smiles at her from a distance.

"And you're in love with him." (Ex) chuckles while Y/N's head snaps back to his direction with wide eyes, "Don't try and deny you at least like him I can tell."

"How can you tell I've been talking to you for less than 5 minutes." Y/N seems almost defensive knowing that he's right no matter how much she says he's not.

"Because of the way you look at him, even from across the room. It was the way you used to look at me." (Ex) says not condescending but more as he cares for Y/N still, which he does. Y/N doesn't know what to say so she just looks towards Dylan as he's smiling and laughing. Dylan looks towards Y/N one more time and catches her looking at him and he smiles back at her waving slightly. The moment passed and Y/N finally realized he was telling the truth.

"Yeah… Maybe I am."

#dylan o'brien #dylan o'brian x reader #dylan o'brian imagine #dylan o'brien x y/n #dylan o'brien x you #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski x y/n #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski fluff #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski fanfiction #mitch rapp #american assassin #mitch rappxreader #mitch rapp x y/n #mitch rapp x you #mitch rapp fanfiction #mitch rapp fanfic #mitch rapp imagine

[onewomancitadel]

A smattering of general updates:

I played Tears of the Kingdom. I didn't really enjoy it. I understand why it was popular though; I'm just not the demographic for these types of video games anymore. I didn't find it creatively rewarding and after a time I sat there thinking 'I would rather be writing right now', and since then I have learnt that writing is made easier by doing things which are not writing, because it makes me miss it. My dad also doesn't really like it but for some reason has played hundreds of hours in it. I don't know either - I think he will take anything called Zelda at this point.

I spectated the Doctor Who David Tennant Special and watched some clips of the new season. I'm not a fan of RTD, and not a DW fan anymore (not for a long time), but it was an interesting study in how studios try to attract old and new fans.

I read a lot of books, and that lie people tell you about all books being good for you is a lie, because a cyberpunk anthology of short stories made me so angry I got heartburn. I think people who say that are saying so because they wish that they could read a lot, in which case I say, yes I think reading is a gift and we should engage with it, however, sometimes I get so physically angry from something stupid/bad I've read because bad writers exist that it gives me actual pain. I am reading Howl's Moving Castle right now and it's very joyful; I am very surprised by the liberties the animated film took! However so far I do think both experiences are worthwhile, and if you enjoyed the Ghibli film, I very much recommend checking out the original book if you want to revisit that world again. The prose is straightforward but a little whimsical, and Howl is very, very funny. I have laughed aloud a few times.

Well, you know I rewatched Dark, and it's funny that during my exile I said 'this is like if RWBY got the ending it deserves' and then, er, I found out it's not renewed yet, and that's still up in the air, which for the entirety of RWBY I have only had one true moment of doubt of such a thing, and that was a while ago.

On that topic, yes, I still ship Jaune/Cinder, believe Cinder's redemption is likely, etc., although there are some more external concerns I would wager now than before. Before I thought it very possible to do without any commercial influence, and it depends what compromises they do or don't end up making or having already made. My analysis of Jaune's arc in V9 may not hold water as much (e.g. if you lean towards the view there were rewrites to cater to growing the audience, or perhaps it's two ideas married? I'm not sure) so I'm going to think about it more, and there always has been a tension in RWBY between what is being expected/baited and what is foreshadowed/said/actually happens.

I figured out how to write again and what was blocking me, so there's that. To talk about it a bit more, since my break I have worked every single day on writing. My key takeaways are that you need a delicate balance of delusion and self-doubt to get anything done - you don't know you can do something until you actually do it - and every excuse I invented for not writing was not the reason I was not writing. I can write with a migraine beginning to set in on an uncomfortable desk where I can't even rest my elbows properly on the end of a bed with no back support without aircon in the middle of summer before I've even taken my hair out from bedtime plaits in my pyjamas. I didn't even expect to get my fic done right before midnight, actually I was like 'well lol that's not going to happen, I'll write anyway though, fuck New Year's' because I wasn't doing anything, and then I finished and looked at the time and was like ooooh. I actually completed my goal! So I'm very proud of that. Anyway writing is breathing, to me, I go crazy if I don't do it, no matter what it is, and every single piece of nonsense advice of productivity was not helpful, ever, but I did figure it out. Also admittedly I got a fire burning under me again because I found out I was actually right about Raven, in which case I took that as a sign from heaven I was on the right track. One should hope.

I am excited about Dune Part Two, yes, although I am trying to avoid Villeneuve talking about the film because I know all the marketing is basically directed at people who aren't Dune fans, and I have to see it for myself to see what it's worth. I enjoyed the first film, and Villeneuve seems excited to direct Dune Messiah, in which case I am willing to do whatever possible to make that happen. Because that's about as complete a story you're going to get in a major motion picture adaptation and it would be So Fucking Good.

#seraphina party hour

[mrsshabana]

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐆𝐲𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 ˚˳♡

I wanted to thank everyone who read our kinktober this year! And I also wanted to thank @gyusimp for doing kinkober with me! She did such an amazing job and she really helped me rediscover my love for writing.

Here are my top 5 favorite entries I did for kinktober -♡

𝐒𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐃𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐭

𝐕𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲

𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐠𝐞

𝐕𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐦

I am so proud of both of us for writing and posting every day just as we said we would. Because honestly, I didn't think I'd be able to do it. But I found myself looking forward to writing every day and it really became the highlight of my days. Doing kinktober really helped me realize how happy writing makes me. And it showed me just how much I'm capable of writing! I literally wrote over 27,000 words for kinktober!

Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed kinktober! Feel free to let me know which ones were your favorite, if you'd like to see a sequel, or if you have any questions about the au's! I love them all so much so I don't mind expanding on them!

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭?

Since I put everything on pause for kinktober, I will be getting back to the projects I was working on.

I had a big follower milestone project I've been working on for awhile, but it's been taking so long that now I'm way past the milestone haha. But that's ok, I'm still going to try to finish it! This project will be the main thing I will be working on now.

But for my writing, I have some requests I started before kinktober that I'd like to finish. And the next fic I will be updating will be the band au. I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to finish, but I promise I haven't abandoned it. Your biggest fan will be the next fic that I update. ༉‧₊˚

#gyutaro x reader #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #update

[covenofthearticulate]

20 Qs for fic writers

1. How many works do you have on A03? 22

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 134,415

3. What fandoms do you write for? Vampire Chronicles, plus a few Umbrella Academy pieces

4. What are your top five fics by kudos? La mort dans dentelle (Death in Lace), Pink, An Aching Pulse in Search of a Home, and Bright Star. (Basically, all the fics that I no longer really like, that I wrote pre-hiatus in like 2018 that have been up on AO3 the longest so statistically have the most kudos just from age LOL)

5. Do you respond to comments? I really really try to!!! Most of the time I get really overwhelmed though like YOU GUYS ARE SO NICE LMAO so just saying "Thank you!" doesn't feel like enough and I get really nervous about not seeming grateful so it takes me approximately 10 years to reply to comments. I try to catch up every couple of months, though.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I'm sorry I love angst, but I am one of those writers who likes to have a satisfying emotional wrap-up at the ends of my fics so honestly most of them end on a sweet note. The closest thing is maybe les rousseurs amères de l'amour which was still soft, but definitely bittersweet.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? aksdjfhcabdsfk they all have happy endings bc I am a sucker and a sap!!! Home Court Advantage is definitely the silliest fluffiest ending though :)

8. Do you get hate on fics? Only if you count the comments that compliment my writing as being in-character for the tv show characters LOL (seriously one time someone commented that they could hear Jacob Anderson's voice come through in my dialogue and I had to go lie down lmfao)

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? These days I mostly write smut LOL but even in the pwp pieces I see most of my smut as opportunities for character building, so most of my work tends to fall into the Smut With Feelings category lmfao

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? I don't write crossover fic anymore, but back when I was crazy active on my rp accounts, I wrote hella crossover! It was moreso on the Umbrella Academy side than my VC side, but I did have some fun rp threads between Louis and Philippe D'Orleans (specifically the tv Versailles version lmao).

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not to my knowledge! Please don't do that!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Not yet!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Once upon a time, baby High School Ash co-wrote an insane crossover fic with a friend I had met through tumblr. It was Barnabas Collins (from Tim Burton's Dark Shadows) x Mrs. Lovett. I feel so brave for admitting this LOL I really truly was so emotionally invested in that fic and it's so cringe-worthy but I had fun and that's what matters!

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? I mean. I'm a Loustat girlie through and through LOL but I also love Louis with Armand, or in any configuration of any of the poly ships! As long as Louis is there, you can count me in.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Maybe one of the Louis/Lestat/Armand pieces I started....I love the 3 of them but I get burnt out so quickly because all 3 characters are so complex and so everything feels like an Ordeal with them because they're all very opinionated and only work in a certain dynamic if that makes sense!

16. What are your writing strengths? I think the thing I'm most proud of is my lyrical prose! I like writing sentences that just punch you in the face with feeling! I want my writing to feel evocative, I want the words and details to stick in your head and rattle around.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I wish I had better stamina and pacing to write longer pieces LMAO like honest to god it's looking like my next fic is gonna be around 9k-10k and it really truly felt like I was going to die writing it LOL it's taken me like 2 months and it has felt like pulling teeth the entire time. For someone who likes writing, I sure wish I liked writing more asdsfkfjghdxghn

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? Like Kacy said, if it's done well and adds to the world of the fic, then sure! I'm definitely guilty of this trope, but I try to reserve it for the really high-stakes moments so that the language lands differently and is more impactful. But I also think dialogue (and even certain dialects) in different languages have the power to do more harm than good. Like, as a reader, I know that if I see a line of something in a language I can't read, the first thing I'm going to have to do is open another browser tab to google translate, and then go back and read it in context again, and by that time the flow is disrupted and everything is off and it's just hard!!

19. First fandom you wrote for? ooooh girl you should've seen some of the spicy Sweeney Todd fic I was hand-writing in my notebooks in high school. Actually it was more psychological angst than smut but LOL listen I'm a ride or die Mrs. Lovett girlie, what can I say.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written? I think in the grand scheme of things, Air Catcher will always have a special place in my heart. It was one of those rare lightning in a bottle instances where the idea came to me so suddenly and so clearly, and the concept felt so obvious I was like "SURELY someone has written this already???" but then I checked and NOPE no one as far as I was aware had written about vampire top drop, and so I just fucking went to town with that fic. It was among some of the first writing I'd done since coming out of hiatus, and to this day I think it's the only fic I've ever written where the end product was exactly what I had envisioned and hoped it would be. That fic was a gift from god to me LOL and it'll be one year old this summer! wild!!!!

Tagged by: @monstersinthecosmos <3 Tagging: adkjhfbcjhdsb once again I feel like all my fic-writing friends have been tagged by this point but PLEASE if you're reading this, do it and say I tagged you <3

#my writing #vc fic #this was fun! thanks for the tag!!

[yanderelovlies]

YO YO YO Can i ask for Sunny Day Jack with fem s/o that was sent a sexy lingerie as a prank (from Carol) and tried it on only for jack to walk in the eoom and unable to control himself???? I'm a sucker for lingerie stories

so i changed the how you got it i hope thats okay. If not let me know and i can rewrite it!

🔪THIS FIC IS 18+ AGELESS AND BLANK BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED 🔪

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Today was the fateful day of spring cleaning, and to make things easier you and Jack agreed to tackle different parts of the house. He decided to take care of the kitchen since he uses it a lot, and you decided to take on your own room. What better way to establish a new relationship then to clean out your room, and take everything out that reminded you of Ian. So here you were cleaning out the depths of your closet seeing shirts you haven't seen in years in the far back. What you did not account to find in the back was some lingerie you had bought for some long forgotten anniversary or special occasion.

It was a simple white set with blue flowers, and a mini skirt to go with it. It really showcased your innocence which was surprisingly a turn on for Ian….who knew. Taking it out of the closet you examined it. You never did wear it for him, and it would be a shame to donate a new set without even trying it. It looks like it still fits, and it wouldn't hurt to try it on…right?

Wiping the last of the grim into his gloved hand, and then into the trash Jack placed his now empty hands on his hip in pride. It had taken him all morning, but he had finally finished deep cleaning the kitchen. He will never say it to (y/n)’s face, but he was also proud of the fact that she was ready to throw away any traces of Ian left in the apartment. It was proof that she is only a few steps closer to fully being his. Though if you ask him he should have been the one to clean her room so he KNEW Ian’s things were out of there, but not matter. He had to trust his girlfriend  in this situation.(calling you that always made him giddy) Speaking of which, maybe he should check in with her.

With a smile on his face he made his way to your now shared room (He liked that thought), and without much thought he simply walked in.

“Hey sunshine i ju-!” Jack thought he was gonna pass out. In front of him stood his beautiful girlfriend dressed in white lingerie with little blue flowers bent over to put on the skirt. When she noticed Jack she was quick to drop the skirt and stand up fully leaving her in only the bra and panties of the lingerie.

“J-jack!” She stopped as if she was being caught doing something she shouldn't have been, but that didn't last long as she let out a sigh and an embarrassed smile.”Sorry I was just surprised to see you.” she let out an embarrassed laugh as Jack seemed to snap out whatever trance he was in.

God you looked like a fucking Goddess, and he was more the ready to get on his knees for you. He approached you slowly as if afraid you would disappear, and once he got to you his hands were delicately placed on your hips.

“Oh sunshine……w-where did this come from?” after looking you up and down in aw his eyes finally met yours. 

You looked away from his gaze, your face as red as tomatoes. “I bought it a long time ago just…..never got to use it…so I tried it on to see if it still fit.” Jack had a feeling who the lovely set was for, but honestly it didn't matter. Ian never got to see it, but Jack did and that's how it should be. There was a little more pressure in Jack’s touch as his hands began to run up towards your boobs.

“God you look amazing sunshine.” he breathed as he leaned down to your neck and began leaving kisses and bites. You leaned against him loving the attention he was giving you.His hand made their way to your boob taking a boob in each hand, and began kneading them occasionally pinching your nipples through thin fabric.

“My own personal Goddess..” he lifted his head only to close the distance between you two and capture your lips with his own as he backed you into a wall. He moved his hands down so he was now groping your ass. You thought you knew where this was going until he went from kissing you to kissing down your body till he was on his knees in front of you. You could practically see the hearts in his eyes as looks up at you and moved his face so his mouth was right over the hem of the lace panties.

“Let me help you, my goddess.'' Using his mouth he pulled your panties down to your knees before he couldn't take it anymore, and used his hand to pull them off the rest of the way. He looks up at you as he once again moves his mouth just close enough to your folds where you can feel his breath. He didn't have to say a word as he said it all. He was waiting for your approval before he ate you out till you were cumming your brains out.

“Y-yes…please ja- '' was all you got out till the rest was overpowered by moans. He didn't waste time in teasing you as his tongue moved past your lips and to your hole instantly. Inserting his tongue as moved his arm around to start rubbing your clit. Using whatever strength you had you used the wall to keep you up as you moved your legs over his shoulders. While eating you out he adjusted himself so he could hold you up properly.

It wasn't until your fifth orgasm did he finally pull away. Your hand was still weakly in his hair as you tried to pull him away after the second orgasim, your back was still arched off the wall, your chest moving up with each ragged breath you took, and your legs that you both knew without a doubt would fall limply to the floor if it wasn't for Jack holding them. Still holding you up he licks your slick off his lips as he stands up. One hand getting your legs to wrap around his waist as the other begins to rub your back trying to get out what kinks he could. 

“You did so well for me sunshine…..can you take more?” you nodded weakly as he gently carried you to the bed, and laid you down. “Are you sure?” He knows it is repetitive,but your comfort always comes first.

You whined, and pulled him close connecting your lips in heated kiss as you kept your legs around his waist as you grind against him. Being able to still taste yourself on his lips drove your already lust driven mind wild as you pressed your whole body against him as you grind harder. He had to put his hand on your hips to get you to stop as he begrudgingly moved his lips away from yours. 

“S-sunshine…..you have to l-let me get undressed..” though you were whining you still separated yourself from him just you could feel his skin against yours. Watching him remove his shirt reminded you that your bra was still on. So as he took off his pants you quickly unhooked your bra, throwing it somewhere behind jack. Jack chuckled at your eagerness as he leaned back down kissing you again. His hand once again at your hips as the other aligns his cock with your entrance. You were still wet from before so it was easy for him to slide in without hurting you. Unlike before he was real slow when entering you wanting you  to feel every inch of him enter you. Just as he was fully in you he pulled away from the kiss just to nuzzle his face into your neck as both hands guid your legs to wrap around his waist.

“I love…the feeling of being inside you…m-my goddess.”

One hand found its way to his hair as the other wrapped around his back. His thrusts were slow and soft. It was what true love making felt like. You could feel the love he felt for you through every thrust.You could feel how much he loved your body as his hands caressed your sides. You have never felt so loved then you have at this moment. The both of you were getting off on that love as you both felt yourselves get close. He lifted his head to look at you once again. 

“Cum with me…..please.” it was almost a beg, one that you understood all too well as you nodded your head and pulled him down for a kiss. He grew a little quicker the closer he came till he stopped with a final SNAP of his hips meeting yours. The movement alone had you seeing stars as you came for the sixth time that night. All of the limbs felt like jelly as they fell limp against Jack, and Jack lightly lay on top of you. The two of you waited a bit to catch your breath before you untangle yourself from Jack so he could get up.

With a bit of stretch Jack made his way to the bathroom to start a warm bath for the two of you. While he was away you couldn't help, but think of what other colors or lingerie types would get Jack going. Maybe you should do more experiments in the future.

#sunny day jack #swwsdj #something's wrong with sunny day jack #x reader #yandere x reader #something's wrong with sunny day jack x reader #swwsdj x reader #sunny day jack x reader #sunny day jack imagine #sunny day jack headcanons #somethings wrong with sunny day jack #swwsdj x reader smut

[vmures]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

I got tagged by the delightful @mirrorthoughts 💜💜💜 Thank you for the tag!

How many works do you have on ao3?

13 at the moment

What's your total ao3 word count?

218,148 words (mostly thanks to one very long fic, lol)

What fandoms do you write for?

Currently Teen Wolf and 9-1-1. I am noodling a few ideas for Stranger Things. I've also written Buffy the Vampire Slayer stuff, mostly crossovers in the past, but haven't gotten around to importing them to ao3. They can be found on Twisting the Hellmouth under the same user name as ao3 (vMures)

Top five fics by kudos:

Hanging On (You're All That's Left to Hold On To)

A Hallowed Pack

A Change of Luck

A Merry War

Finding Home

All Teen Wolf fics, mostly Steter with one Sterek fic in the mix. 😄

Do you respond to comments?

I certainly always try to.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I'm a happily ever after sort of writer generally, so none of my fics have very angsty endings. Just not the sort of thing I tend to write.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

They all have happy endings so far. Not sure I could pick which one has the happiest ending.

Do you get hate on fics?

Not usually, at least not on ao3. Worst comments I've gotten have been on fanfiction.net and I have been ignoring those for decades at this point. I think I don't get much hate on ao3 in large part because I don't allow anonymous comments on my work and people are less likely to leave hate comments when they have to do it with their official account. I've gotten a few odd comments, some weird nitpicky ones, and some demanding ones from time to time. I always try to respond politely to those, but sometimes get a bit snarky.

Do you write smut?

Not as of yet. But I may some day try my hand at it. No promises though. lol

Craziest crossover:

I once wrote a crossover between Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Harry Potter, and X-Men (it can be found on Twisting the Hellmouth).

On ao3, my only crossover so far is a Teen Wolf/Harry Potter crossover: A Hallowed Pack

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Someone just asked if they could translate Midnight Rain into Russian, so that will be my first fic translated into another language.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not really

All time favourite ship?

Cannot pick favorites for the life of me. In Teen Wolf, I love Steter, Sterek, Stetopher, Stargent, Steterek, Dargent, Detergent (Derek/Chris/Peter), and so many more combinations of my favorite characters. lol Stranger Things I read mostly Steddie and Ronance, but am open to quite a few other pairings.

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Yep, my one unfinished WIP Buffy/Stargate crossover, The Road Not Taken. After a decade of agonizing over whether or not to mark it abandoned and give myself grace for not finishing it, I finally did so. Part of me still would love to finish it, but I lost the notes I had on it and doubt I'll ever find the desire to rebuild the story and figure out where I had wanted it to go.

What are your writing strengths?

I'm pretty good at writing natural sounding dialogue and proud of that fact.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I have been called a wordy bitch or told my writing is very dense. So that could be considered a weakness. Otherwise, I'd say writing action scenes and making sure the actions make sense and flow properly.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

As long as there's a translation somewhere, I don't mind. Sometimes it is effective to include.

First fandom you wrote in?

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Favorite fic you've written?

Oh man, this is a particularly hard question. I love A Merry War a lot, but ultimately my absolute favorite so far is Hanging On (You're All That's Left to Hold On To). That fic is my baby. Took me two years to finish and I poured a lot of my heart and soul into it.

Once again I've hit the tagging portion of the tag game and drawn an absolute blank on who to tag. So consider yourself tagged if you want to play along! 💜💜💜

#tag games #fanfiction #my fanfiction #author questions

[mimbotomy]

Thank you @lazuliquetzal for the tag! 🩷

How many works do you have on AO3? 10! Which feels small because I have more than three times as many WIPs rattling around in my google docs rip

What’s your total AO3 word count? 561,190

What fandoms do you write for? AC Odyssey! Except I write so many crossovers so I have a couple other fandoms on my AO3 as well. I also have WIPs for AC Valhalla, House of the Dragon, and ATLA. Fun fact, I also have Odyssey crossovers planned for two of those fandoms, and I'll let you guess which two 😜

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? Rebirth - My beloved, my baby, I swear I am still writing this My Miraculous Ladybug fic - I wrote this seven years ago and like to pretend it doesn't exist Assassins, Atlantis, and Avengers - Unfortunately on indefinite hiatus, but I've gotten so many nice comments on it recently that I've been thinking a lot about it! The Children of Kephallonia - MY FAVORITE FIC OF MINE EVERYONE SHOULD READ THIS I'M SO PROUD OF THIS ONE Not a Malákes Ravenclaw - Absolutely ridiculous I can't believe people actually like this (it's so fun to write tho 😂)

Do you respond to comments? I do my best but I'm not actually the best lol

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Of my published fics, The Lioness, but only if you read the first chapter and ignore my ramblings in the second chapter about how SPOILERS deaths would change canon.

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? There is No Escape...! It technically has the same ending as my other Kassandra drags Phoibe out of the Underworld fic, but this fic has a planned sequel called the Electric Boogaloo, so I think it's obvious which one I had more fun writing 😂

Do you get hate on fics? One or two negative comments but for the most part people have been really nice to me! Which I appreciate, because I am a smol anxious bean who just wants friends 🥰

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I have a few bordering on spicy scenes, but no real smut.

Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? BOY DO I HAVE CROSSOVERS I have so many crossovers, like too many crossovers, all putting the queen of my heart Kassandra the Eagle Bearer in another universe and making her the main character she is clearly supposed to be. My craziest one is probably my AC Odyssey x Harry Potter crossover, but I am now hesitant to call it crazy because it now seems to make sense to me??? So maybe I'm going crazy???

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Nope!

Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope again!

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Once again, nope! But I honestly think co writing a fic would be so fun to try, at least once.

What’s your all time favorite ship? Kassidas. I always liked it but it has legitmately taken over my brain the last year. I blame @aeide's amazing Kassidas' fics

What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Assassins, Atlantis, and Avengers. It's on indefinite hiatus right now because while I have an outline and even a few scattered scenes written, actually writing it seems impossible right now. But I hold out hope that I will come back to it one day!

What are your writing strengths? Character relationships! (At least in my opinion lol)

What are your writing weaknesses? Does constantly going back and rewriting chapters because I slightly changed my idea and want to foreshadow things better count? If not, I could be better at setting the scene and not just imagining it in my head.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? Definitely not opposed to doing so, albiet through google translate because I am truly terrible with languages, but I always try to keep it short and I include translations in the endnotes.

First fandom you wrote for? Miraculous Ladybug. I sometimes like to pretend that fic doesn't exist because I feel bad that I forgot what I had planned/never finished it.

Favorite fic you’ve written? THE CHILDREN OF KEPHALLONIA I feel like I really came into my own as a writer when I started plotting out this fic and I'm really happy with my worldbuilding, character relationships, misc narrative choices, and just how my writing style has improved from my first fics. If you want to read any of my fics, I recommend this one.

I vaguely remember doing this exact tag game at some point, but time is an illusion and I have no idea when this was! So if I tag you and you did this recently, do not feel any pressure to do it again!

Tagging @aeide, @uhhhyaenbyjade, @zephyrwolf5, @ithinkthiswasabadidea, and anyone else who wants to do this!

#tag game

[kindred-sims]

Part 2/2

TW: Emotional abuse, verbal abuse

"How dare I? How dare you! I'm a guest in your home, is this how you would treat your guests?" Sterling scoffed at Caleb. "Really, I would've thought that even simple farm folk could raise their children with at least some manners..."

"...Jo, go put Carrie back to bed. I don't want her here for this."

Caleb spoke both sternly and plainly, keeping his angered gaze focused on his father-in-law as Jo numbly walked out of the room with their daughter in tow. He hadn't been proud for yelling in front of the two of them as he had, but his anger had been kindled, and he could no longer force himself to remain as pleasant as he'd tried to be all evening.

As far as he was concerned, Mr. Blythe had crossed a very strong limit with his words. And that was a limit that no man should ever dare cross as long as a Wakefield was around.

"If you must know Mr. Blythe, my parents did raise me to have good manners, and they certainly raised me to be gracious," He tried to keep his voice level, but his ire was too hard to disguise, and it was taking everything in him to not begin shouting again.

"But they also taught me to put my family first above anything else, and that's what I'm doing now. For that, I'm not going to let you stand around and continue belittling my wife any longer--"

"I'm sorry, your wife?" The other man let out a harsh chuckle. "Forgive me for saying so, but I believe she's been my daughter longer than she's been your wife. I'll treat her however the hell I please, and I'll be damned if some oafish farmer is going to tell me what to do!"

"Papa, that's enough!"

Try as she might, Jo hadn't been able to bring herself to leave Caleb alone with her father, and had swiftly returned after ensuring that Carrie was settled. She didn't know why, but overhearing his insults toward Caleb -- combined with the nasty things he had to say about Carrie, had caused something inside of her to snap, and she knew she couldn't stay quiet anymore.

She didn't want to either.

For nearly twenty-one years she'd been dealing with his cruelty, and she was done playing the timid creature.

"Oh, you stay out of this, girl, this doesn't concern you--"

"No. I think it does," She spoke firmly, stepping between Caleb and her father. "Papa, my whole life you've been treating me as if I'm an inconvenience to you, and you've never once given me any indication that you love me or actually care for me. And for what reason? Because I'm not the son you wanted?"

"Christ, Josephine, I've heard all I want to hear--"

"I'm not finished yet," Jo kept on, both her voice and body trembling something terrible. She was terrified, but she couldn't stop. "I could've handled it, you know? If you only came here to insult me further, but you didn't. You've not only insulted me, but you deliberately chose to insult both my husband and child, and I refuse. I refuse to let you do those things any longer."

"Like hell you can refuse me, I'm your goddamn father! I'm the only family you have left you ungrateful brat! What do you think your mother would say, or your grandmother?"

"I'm not a child anymore, Papa!"

Jo surprised even herself with how loud she became, but she didn't back down. So many years of hurt, so many years of pain all came spilling out in that one sentence, and by God did it feel so freeing.

"That isn't going to work with me anymore, it won't. You're not my family, you have never been my family," she continued "I have Caleb and Carrie now, I don't need anything from you. I don't want anything else."

"Well I--"

"And furthermore, if I do have a son someday, I will never tell you. Because I'd rather my children have no grandfather at all versus one who is a cruel, selfish excuse of a man."

Sterling looked taken aback by all these words, staring at Jo like he was trying to figure out where his shy, meek daughter had gone. Maybe this was who she really was, maybe he'd never known her at all.

Either way, it was nothing Jo would lose sleep over.

Still seated on the couch, Cora was the next to say something, her voice a hushed whisper.

"Sterling, I think its best we leave now..."

He didn't respond, stood silently for about another minute, before finally grumbling under his breath and following his wife out of the parlor. He glanced back one more time as they departed, a searing fire burning in his expression.

"I hope you're satisfied, Josephine, truly. I thought marrying you off to this simpleton might humble your selfish ways, but I can see now that that was only a fool's dream," he said cruelly, but Jo refused to look at him, keeping her back turned. By now, her resolve had crumbled, and she refused to let him see her cry. Not as he had so many other times before.

"You'll get what you want, mark my words. You couldn't pay me to come back to this pigsty, even if I wanted to. You won't be seeing me, or a cent of your inheritance for that matter. I have every intention to have everything transferred to Edward as soon as he turns eighteen. At least I know the family fortune will be in more...competent hands."

"Oh keep your damn money, Mr. Blythe, we certainly don't need it." Caleb hissed, refusing to take his eyes off either of the Blythes until they'd left the house. He turned to Jo, and it only took one glance at her face for him to pull her into a tight embrace.

"Its over now, love. They're gone, you can cry," He held her close as she sobbed into his shoulder, her entire body shuddering. "I've got you, its alright..."

"God, he's so horrible. He's so horrible, Caleb, how dare he say such awful things!" Her voice was muffled, yet audible enough to know that it was breaking. "About you, about Carrie...what did she do to him besides exist? She's only a baby, she didn't do anything, she couldn't have..."

His entire shoulder soon became doused in her tears, but Caleb didn't care. Only kept holding her, until he was sure she was going to be okay. That she was going to feel safe again. Because while he may be an oafish farmer who couldn't read or write all that well, he knew how to care.

He knew how to love.

Because he loved Jo more than her father could ever claim to. He'd meant every word of his wedding vows the day he'd recited them, and he had every intention to uphold them for as long as the Good Lord would allow him.

#sims 4 #ts4 #ts4 history #ts4 historical #decades challenge #wakefield legacy #1890s #tw: emotional abuse #tw: verbal abuse