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screeching-bunny · 1 year

Note

Part 2 on the Yandere supernatural heram please.

Yandere! Supernatural Harem pt.2

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’

Pt.1

Your first ever viable memory was of a supernatural creature. At the young age of three, you encountered an extremely tall woman with long black hair dressed in a white dress. Looking back at the memory, she ended up turning out to be an urban legend called Hachishakusama. The eight feet tall women loomed down over you and followed you wherever you went. Everytime she was nearby you could hear her utter the sound “po” over and over again. Anytime you brought this up to your parents they would just brush it off as you being imaginative and thought that you made an imaginary friend. “Would your friend like to join us for dinner tonight?” Never, would they actually take your comments.

It wasn’t until you got tired of her appearance did you actually start to confront her. With your limited variety of vocabulary and baby voice, you spring out the sentence of “Why you follow me?” Only to be met with silence as you stomp your little feet on the ground. Geez how rude of her didn’t she hear that you asked a question?

Suddenly, the woman reaches her arms out to grab you. The grip of her hug was strong and firm. You were barely able to move around that much. Your tiny little brain panicked as you struggled to get free. It was the first time that you’ve ever experienced real fear. Soon, the woman opened her mouth and said, “Won’t you come home with me child. I’ll make sure to take care of you and treat you better than your biological parents.” You didn’t get a chance to respond before your mother burst into your room and screamed.

After that incident your parents took you to a Buddhist temple so that you could be dispelled from evil spirits or entities. This however, never really worked because some form of shape or another they just kept on crawling back. When your parents thought that you were safe you were finally able to leave the temple. Your parents wanted you to be extra safe so they decided to move out of the house and buy a new one. Thankfully, due to this incident they were more aware and took your concerns about others very seriously from then on.

Another vivid memory that you could recall was when you were at the age of eight. It was at the time when your new neighbors moved into the house next to yours. Your father wanted to greet your new neighbors and took you along with him. You remember waiting on their doorstep as your father knocks on the door. A few minutes pass and he knocks again. “Maybe they're not home, let’s come back later.” Just then the door swings open and out comes a tall blonde man. “Hi, we’re your new neighbors. We just came by to greet you and welcome you to our neighborhood.” The blonde man stared for a second before saying, “Thanks so much for that and your formalities. You have such a cute kid. I have two twin boys about their age, do you think they could play together?”

Just like that you were in the neighbor’s yard with his two twin sons. They were definitely an odd bunch with long bangs covering your eyes. Even though you couldn’t see them, you could feel their eyes following your form. As time went on hanging around them wasn’t that bad; they were very nice to be around and listen to basically everything you said. The only problem was that they were overly clingy, everywhere you were they just had to be as well. Another red flag was that they would never allow you to see their eyes no matter how much you pleaded and pestered, they would never allow you to see their eyes.

By the time that you were in the fifth grade, you three were inseparable best friends. During your time with them however, students at your elementary school started to go missing more frequently. An incident that you could remember was when you told the twins that you liked some kid and were planning to confess soon. A few weeks later your crush was missing and a community search was sent out. No matter how hard everyone looked no one could find them, it was almost as if they had disappeared out of thin air.

As the years went on more creatures showed up to you but they seemed to be intercepted by some weird force. You made sure to keep this a secret from everyone but your parents. It wasn’t until your senior year of high school that you found out the truth about your two best friends. One day, you just got so curious about what their eyes looked like that you peaked at one of the twin’s eyes when he was his face. His eyes were pitch black and darker than charcoal. Even though you didn’t know it at the time, they were called black eyed children.

Safe to say, you were extremely creeped out by this discovery but were even more creeped out that they were planning on kidnapping you to some faraway place. Yeah heck no, so on the day of graduation, you decided to run away from home to get away from them. You then wrote a letter to your family basically saying, “Yeah, so my childhood friends aren't actually human and it’s best I leave before anything happens to you or me peace out, xoxo your child.”

Leaving home was pretty rough for you. You’ve never felt so alone before in your entire life and to top it all off you were a newly fresh adult. Making it into an adult transition was difficult and confusing but you somehow managed with that.

Blasting into the future now, you were in quite a predicament. Waking up with your limbs tied to a bedpost was not your ideal way of starting your morning but hey at least your kidnapper didn’t you hard rope. Instead, it was a really thick ribbon and lace that bonded your arms. Your eyes start to adjust to the light as your vision starts to get clearer you notice that most of the furniture is Victorian styled. Soon you hear footsteps reach to the and it starts to open.

“My love, it seems that you're finally awake. Oh how I’ve dreamed of this moment, I can’t believe that this is real.” Wow this was totally not creepy whatsoever. Taking in his appearance you notice his sharp fangs and long glistening hair. Yeah he is definitely a vampire, this is so annoying you really did not feel like being a blood bag right now.

“Can you please untie me? I promise not to run away.” Before you could get a response from him, the ground suddenly started to shake, and you could feel your arms being freed. As you get up to run from your captor, you feel the arms of someone grabbing your waist. In a blink of an eye, you feel someone lift you up and fly you away from the vampire. “GOD DAMN IT, NOT THIS AGAIN.”

#yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere harem #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #gn reader

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obsessivevoidkitten · 11 months

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To Reject a Vampire

Male Vampire Yandere x Gender Neutral Reader (CW: Non-con, vampire, biting, blood drinking, depressed reader, mind control, smut, blowjob, forced imprisonment, dead dove: do not eat, general yandere behavior) Word Count: 3.4k (Vampire comm that took me way too long.)

You were walking back home late one night with your friend, Jaime. You had known each other since childhood and remained inseparable. In fact, the two of you even lived right next door to one another. He had left for college for some years, but had returned as soon as he had become a registered nurse. The two of you often hung out when you were both off work and that sometimes led to walking to the gas station a couple blocks down the road to grab some snacks. You were both laughing from recounting a particularly funny memory you both shared when the sounds of laughter and chatter between the two of you suddenly died down into silence before he spoke. "Hey… there's something I wanted to ask you…" Oh no. Not again… "Have you maybe reconsidered us dating? I know you said no before but-" This was an ongoing problem with Jaime, the only thing really marring an otherwise near perfect friendship. He kept persistently asking you out. This had been going on for years now and your frustration finally got the better of you, making you snap. "NO!" You yelled interrupting him, "NO! NO! NO! NO! NOOOOO!!! It isn't happening! I am totally and completely uninterested in having any type of non-platonic relationship with ANYONE! Stop. Asking. It is NEVER going to happen. Not in this world or the next. Not in any way, shape, form, nor fashion! Get. It. Through. Your. Thick. Skull." You were panting after your outburst. A few seconds passed and you realized how harsh you had been as his face went from stunned silence to utter broken despair. You could practically hear his heart shatter. He often got a bit dejected when you had rejected him in the past, but this time you were much more harsh. With a sniff he started sobbing and running off towards home, leaving you to walk home alone in the quiet night. Sighing you slowly trudged home, sure that Jaime just needed to sulk for a few days before your friendship resumed with the both of you pretending like this awkward episode never happened. And, more than likely, that is just exactly what would have happened. Had a chance encounter on his way home not irreversibly changed Jaime forever. And not for the better. As Jaime was running home his tear filled eyes blinded him to the danger that was stalking him from the shadows. A sneaky predator who loved the taste tormenting his prey imparted, and how much sweeter when his meal was already flavored with the sweet marinade of sorrow and heartbreak? Suddenly Jaime was tackled into a dark alley that he was passing, the vampire easily dragging him back into the void where no eyes could pierce, firmly clasping his hand over Jaime's mouth to keep him quiet. The unknown assailant put his nose into the crook of Jaime's neck and inhaled deeply, savoring the mouthwatering scents of all the negative emotions Jaime had been experiencing that night. The current one being abject terror as the figure behind him didn't even acknowledge his vain attempts at struggling. "I'd tell you not to struggle, but it is really much more fun when you do," mused a deep man's voice. Jaime, whose first thought was that he was getting mugged, now thought that he was going to be raped as his attacker licked and kissed his neck in the same manner one's lover would. And he flailed all the more vigorously. Unperturbed, the man now violated Jaime in an altogether different and unexpected manner. Sinking long fangs easily into the soft flesh of his neck before sucking him nearly dry. It was amazing how thoroughly a vampire could drain a victim. Jaime died, but his murderer was not quite done with him. He loved sowing discord and chaos in any way that he could manage it, and having seen the spectacle early of you rejecting his victim he knew there was ruination and mayhem to be had by creating a fresh, unguided, love-sick vampire. So he bit open his wrist a bit and let the blood flow into the parted lips of our dear departed Jaime. Within an hour he would no longer be so dear nor so departed. And the unknown vampire stepped into the shadows and was never seen there again, happy with his meal and the knowledge that he had certainly derailed more than one life that night. When Jaime woke up hours later, just as the sun was rising, he had a major migraine, a sharp pain in his neck, was chilled to the bone, and felt like he was starving. His memory was spotty, he thought maybe he had been mugged, but he still had his phone and wallet on him. Maybe just assaulted by some crazy person. Whatever had happened he was alive and okay, so he shakily got to his feet, dusted himself off, and made his way home. By the time he had reanimated you had been in bed for hours. Though you hadn't really slept well. You felt so guilty for exploding on him like that. Sure, he kept asking you out, but it wasn't too often and you could have gone about rejecting him just a bit more gently. He had been really hurt, what if he didn't blow it off and resume your friendship like he usually did? After a few days had passed with no contact from him you began to get a bit more anxious, though it was still technically within the normal timeframe of when he usually started talking to you again after you turned down his advances. Still, given the way you had lashed out at him you figured that you should maybe be the one to check up on him instead. Jaime had a reason for not talking to you, what with his transition into a blood feeding immortal taking up most of his time. At first he had no idea at all what was happening to him. He felt cold and feverish and was beyond fatigued. He called off work from the first day, thinking he had a minor flu of some sort. All his senses were disorienting him. His body was adjusting to more sensitive vision, sense of smell, and even touch. The second day he felt better, but had an insatiable hunger, no matter what he ate nothing seemed to satisfy him. He ate a huge breakfast before work and at lunch he ate a lot as well. Some of his coworkers at the hospital even joked about how he was inhaling food that day. Jaime had no clue why he felt like he was starving no matter how much he ate. As someone in the medical field any number of possible causes went through his mind. Nothing really fit. A more concerning symptom was that whenever he was around a wounded patient, whenever he had to do a blood transfusion, or even just whenever he got the faintest whiff of blood his hunger flared up. His senses flared in sensitivity. He could almost have sworn he could hear the heartbeats of those near him. He realized he was craving the blood. It scared him, the thought made him nauseous. Admirably he managed to push away his quite literal blood lust for a couple days, but eventually he could fight his need for blood no longer. It was late at night at the end of his shift and he was beyond certain the coast was clear so he snuck into the storage room where the blood packs are kept and sunk his teeth into one, unknowingly growing fangs as he pierced it and sucked it dry. If the obvious signs hadn't been enough to clue him in on what he now was then innate instinctual knowledge that filled him with his first ingestion of vital human essence did. He was a vampire. A million thoughts raced through his mind, but his first priority was sating his hunger. He quickly grabbed some bags of blood and stuffed them into his coat for later before leaving for home. He was oddly excited, eager to test out what new abilities he had. A day later, when both of you were off work, you finally got a text from him asking to hang out with no mention of what had occurred between the two of you the other night. You breathed a sigh of relief, now things could go back to normal. The two of you had arranged for you to come by his house in a couple hours so the two of you could hang out, order pizza, and play video games. Just like the good old days. Things went entirely normal with no odd deviation or indication that Jaime was now a creature of the night. And it set the pace for your friendship to resume as if nothing had ever happened. Or so you thought, in the weeks since the two of you first started hanging out again Jaime had steadily been experimenting and training with his new found abilities. He had learned that he had an absurd tolerance to pain, extremely quick reflexes, and unholy strength. But, most importantly, he learned that he could compel anyone to do his bidding. He had plans to use this technique on you, but it wasn't quite perfected yet. Though every time he used it he got more and more effective. All he needed was practice and time. So while you went about life and continued your longest running friendship in blissful ignorance of what was to come he was readying himself for the day he could make you love him. When that day arrived it started like any other, you two hanging out at his place on a day when you were both off. But it definitely didn't stay that way. Jaime was at the point with his skill where he no longer even needed to issue commands verbally, he just needed good eye contact to assert his will over another being. "Hey is something wrong? Why are you staring at me so intensel-" You instantly went still and quiet. It was like you were trapped in your own body unable to do anything. When Jaime asked you if you would go out with him you wanted to say no but your lips were not your own and you said yes in a monotone voice. Jaime wore a shit-eating grin as he scooted closer to you and kissed you deeply. You were repulsed and afraid, why weren't you pushing him away, why weren't you slapping him, why were you returning the kiss? You wanted to scream and run away but you could do nothing to control your own body. Instead you wrapped your arms around him and made out with him. Jaime was thrilled, he bit your neck carefully and fed from you as you clung to him. You felt a sharp pain in your neck but could do nothing against it as he tasted your blood. For you it was hell, like a much worse and very real version of sleep paralysis. For Jaime it was heaven, he had never felt closer to you than in that moment. His beloved was finally in his arms and could do nothing to leave them. But he most certainly was not satisfied with that alone for long. Jaime carried you bridal style up to his bed. He very carefully undressed you, as if you were the most delicate doll to ever exist, and stood for a moment admiring every inch of your exposed body. You wanted to shout for help. To cover up. To run. To fight. ANYTHING but lay there under his unwavering gaze. But no matter how hard you tried to fight it you simply couldn't, you were a hostage in your mind, able to see and feel everything but do nothing. The first thing he did, after disrobing, was to attend to your sex. He touched your crouch carefully, as if afraid to hurt you. Like you might shatter at the slightest rough touch. He ran his eager hands, shaking with excitement, over every inch of you. He stroked your cheek tenderly and played with your hair, felt over your chest and thighs and hips. When he had thoroughly explored you and there were no more areas for his hands to discover he decided he needed to go deeper. The vampire took two lubed fingers and slowly worked them into you, gently prying your entrance open and stretching you to be ready for him. He savored every sensation and fold inside you, hard as a rock as he imagined his cock where his fingers were. You couldn't even cry as he violated you, you were denied even that emotional release. And this remained the case even as he slathered his cock with lube and aligned it with your entrance and made his way inside you with his slightly above average dick. Jaime was torturously slow as he "made love" with his dear partner. You just wanted this nightmare to be over, you wanted to believe that at any moment you would wake up sweating in bed like you would from any bad dream. You had to stare wide-eyed, made to take it all in, as he looked at you lovingly. He kissed you deeply, and once more you were made to comply, parting your lips so that he could move his tongue inside. Jaime happily rubbed his tongue against yours as he worked towards filling you with his hot seed. As he approached his climax he gripped your hip painfully and picked up the pace, really drilling you as deeply and as forcefully as he could, his balls slapping into you with each painful thrust. Right before he came he slowed down as much as possibly, wanting to draw out the sensation for as long as he could. Slowwwwwwly pulling out before sliding just as slowly back in, repeating this a few times before thrusting forward and emptying his balls into you as he bit the side of your neck that he left untouched earlier. You came too just as he did, your body now betraying you even further than it had already and in the most humiliating way. He drank a bit before sliding his dick out of you and kissing your cheek. "That was amazing babe! I love you so much!" And as a puppet pulled by its strings you replied, once more in monotone, "I love you too." And the illusion was shattered. It wasn't real. He may have had you, he may have even had your vocal chords, but he didn't have your emotions. And he soon learned that no matter what he tried, even though he could get you to do almost any action, he couldn't force you to love him. Jaime tried for weeks to force love for him into you, keeping you locked away in his house whenever he left for work. You tried to leave, of course, but simple orders lingered in you even when he was no longer present. You couldn't leave or get help in any way. All of your existence now amounted to was enduring his increasing frustration with being unable to make you love him interspersed with periods of anxiety while waiting for him to get home from work and torture you all over again. You were no longer aware of exactly how long you had been trapped, the days all kind of blended together. Most days he had work at the hospital and those days were all largely the same with little to no variation. Jaime would get up and make you breakfast in bed, insisting that he was trying to spoil you. You, in a mix of depression and defiance would not take a single bite and just stare at the plate that he brought to you on a tray with your favorite morning drink. Inevitably he would get frustrated, snap at you, force you to eat against your will, and slam the door as he went off to work. Then you were left alone, it was probably the only almost decent part of your day, but everything just seemed so hopeless. Inevitably the blood sucking parasite would be back and you couldn’t leave no matter how hard you tried to. At each attempt it was like someone seized your body and squeezed you into immobility until you submitted. When your “lover” got home he would fawn over you, often giving you a little gift. A small gesture you supposed was meant to somehow make you forget everything and fall helplessly in love with him. A small sweet treat, a flower, a tiny teddy bear. Anytime he tried this tactic you always ignored it or threw it across the room. Either way the result was the same. Jaime would snap, he would not even bother forcing you mentally as he grabbed your weak arms and bit painfully into your neck. “No please! I’m s-sorry!” You would cry, always regretting your action but never being able to stop yourself from denying his gifts when he offered them. And for the next part he would use his ability of compulsion to make you stop fighting. In his fury he wanted to hurt you a bit, but not TOO badly, and he enjoyed, for a moment, the fantasy that you were a willing participant. Most of the time he would then have you remove your clothing before sliding himself inside you, biting and kissing and sucking your neck as he did so, whispering how you were all his and about how much he loved you softly into your ear. Sometimes he would instead utilize your soft lips, jamming his hard cock down your throat, making you service him. The heat of your wet mouth combined with the sight of you looking up at him with his cock in your mouth was almost enough to make him blow his load immediately. You were just so beautiful. No matter the method that he chose it always ended the same. After his finished unloading into you his mind would clear and then be filled with rage as you were unable to reciprocate his love and enjoyment of the forced intimacy between the two of you. Jaime would angrily shove you aside, leaving you to clean yourself up, while he slammed the door to the bedroom and went to go make dinner. When it was ready of course he always found you laying where he left you, sobbing. Then he would, roughly, force you to your feet and drag you into the bathroom where he would run you a bath. This is where he would feel really guilty and suddenly turn soft. Every time. Gently shampooing your hair and cleaning your body, tenderly attending to the bites on your neck, happily babbling about how much he loves you and he knows you’ll love him eventually, you just need more time to adjust was all. Jaime would then clothe you himself and carry you down to dinner. You wouldn’t eat willingly, too catatonic by this point in the evening to do much of anything, but that was okay. Jaime was still in his sweet phase, all the anger having left earlier. He would feed you himself but compel you to swallow with his vampiric power, he always made your favorites. He had diligently learned to cook them perfectly for you over the years even though he otherwise did not enjoy cooking. After dinner he would always make an effort to spend some time with you, not getting angry when you were still, and when it was time for bed he would carry you up in his strong arms and lay you down as if you were made of the thinnest glass, a complete 180 to how he treated you when he first got off work. He would snuggle up to you from behind and hold you close, ending each night by telling you how much he loved you and saying he knew deep down you loved him back and one day you would be so happy with him. You hoped he was right, you hoped you could just be happy waking up in his arms, because if not this cycle of abuse juxtaposed to tenderness would never end.

#yandere terato #yandere teratophilia #yandere vampire #vampire man #male vampire x reader #gender neutral reader #gn reader #male yandere x reader #male vampire x gn reader #My OCs #My OC Jaime

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blackbat05 · 11 months

Text

Real or Not Real?

Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Plot: You need a plus one for a wedding. Who better than your boss and perhaps the most hated person on your list.

Genre: PG-13, Enemies to Lovers (I would like to think so😬)

A/N: I’m on a roll. Also, I always wanted to do this trope! This is longer than usual. Reblogs and feedback appreciated!💜

“Shit!” Your phone bounces off the bed, landing inches away from another expensive repair.

“What’s wrong?” Jessica Drew looks up from the self help book that she was currently engaged in.

“An old classmate. I totally forgot about the wedding!” You groan, feet becoming more fidgety by the second.

“Right… and would you care to explain why you look like one of Norman Osborn’s pumpkins?” Your best friend looks at you cautiously, as if like you were a volcano waiting to explode any second.

“Well, she used to be great with everyone in school. Can’t say the same about myself.” You winced internally at the memories about your youth. “You know how it is. Everyone is either rich, successful or in love once they leave school.”

“Or maybe all three.” Jessica adds helpfully much to your chagrin.

“Thanks, Jess.” You refrain from rolling your eyes. “Anyways, the chat group got reignited and some genius started asking about ‘the girl who everyone always see but doesn’t really know’ and before I know it, everyone starts pestering me about how I’m doing!” You throw your hands dramatically in the air and Jessica can’t help but to look amused. “So?”

“So, I kinda told them that I have a reallyhotboyfriend.” The last few words are mashed into one big mess but still clear enough for Jessica to pick up. “You what now?”

Smelling the judgement from a mile away, you hang your head in defeat. “I know! I’m an idiot! I couldn’t help myself okay? This is what happens when you attend a private all girls’ school. You stand out for being weird and suddenly The Plastics start making your entire school life hell.”

“The Plastics?”

“It’s a movie reference.”

“Why am I not surprised.” Jessica chuckles. “So what now girl? How’s damage control going?”

“Terrible.” You splat face first into the pillow. “I was thinking of getting help from the guys but…” You hold up four fingers, ticking them off one by one. “Pavitr can’t pretend, Hobie’ too unpredictable, Miles is too young and Peter’s married with a child - a fact I can’t ignore even if this is fake.”

Jessica looks at your closed fingers, tapping her chin thoughtfully. If being friends with her taught you anything, this wasn’t a good sign.

“There is one more option. I think he would fit your description of a really hot boyfriend.” She deliberately gives you a meaningful look that makes you leap off the bed, throwing her an accusing look.

“Actually, I think I’m going to ask Gwen. Do you know where I can find her?”

“Long gone. She went to visit Captain Stacey.” Jessica quips. “Come on. He’s a good option. Besides, this is a great opportunity to know him better!”

“I rather tangle with the loch-ness monster instead.” You mumble, thinking about your very first encounter with the man of the hour - Miguel O’Hara. The two of you were a good representation of day and night.

While you were bright and upbeat, the leader of the Spider Society probably didn’t have the word ‘joy’ in his dictionary. As you attempted to introduce yourself to him at your first meeting, he had simply brushed you aside.

“Miguel isn’t that bad once you get to know him.”

“Very funny, Jess. You should be comedian of the year. Did you forget how he yelled at me when I pushed him out of the way from Kingpin’s gangbangers?”

Jessica opens her mouth slightly, only to shut it soon after. You frown, turning your back to see whatever she was staring at behind you. How you wished you hadn’t. Oh, if only the ground could swallow you whole as Miguel himself stands at the door, staring at you with an unreadable expression.

��What- how long have you been here for?” You struggle to form that one sentence. “Jess…” You start accusingly.

Jessica shrugs, taking Miguel’s presence as a sign to leave. “I’ll leave you two to it!” She gives you a wink that results in your mouth hanging agape. Miguel closes the door and you quickly attempt to compose yourself.

“I’ll do it.”

“Do what?”

Miguel raises a brow. “Be your date.” He says it all too nonchalantly, as if choosing at empanada at the supermarket. You blink, pinching yourself out of his sight. The situation was very real. He stands in front of you, waiting.

“What do you want from me?” You blurt out. “You want something in return.” You clarify once more, trying to make sense of things.

The end of Miguel’s lips turn upwards slightly, and you’re worried that the sudden acceleration of your heart would unable to support your body to stand upright.

“I just want to apologize for my behavior and I happened to overhear your conversation.” He responds and you make a mental note to never trust Jessica again for not warning you about his presence.

“Am I in some kind of alternate dimension?” You laugh, trying to defuse the awkwardness. Miguel remains impassive, eyes staring intently into yours.

“What’s it going to be? You can take me or you can look like a liar to everyone. It’s your choice.”

You hate to say it, but he’s right.

***

“You came!” Your old friend comes barreling into you, giving you a big hug.

“Lils! You look amazing!” You gushed, returning the hug. “Congratulations. What a beautiful place.” You refer to the beachside wedding that she insisted on.

“Thanks! Jeju Island was always on my bucket list. I’m so glad I get to share this memory with all of you!” She gushes, turning to your plus one. “I mean, I finally get to see who has stolen your heart!” She extends a hand. “And who may you be?”

“Miguel O’Hara.” He extends his own hand for a shake. “Congratulations.”

“No need for the formalities!” Lilly smiles brightly. “What I do want to know is how you two got together! You can be away from her for a little can’t you?”

Before the two of you can even say anything, you find yourself being pulled away by Lilly while the groom effortlessly picks up the conversation with Miguel. She brings you aside, within the sight of the two men.

“Tell me everything!” She pounces on you like a tiger, demanding to know your first encounter. You give what you hope was a easy smile. “We’re… colleagues.” You don’t think exposing both your superhero personas would do well, not especially when you got here by inter dimensional traveling.

Your friend seems to be satisfied by this as she squeals. She hits your shoulder a little too aggressively, wanting more. You sigh, hoping that Miguel wasn’t being interrogated this intensively on his end.

“We just had the same interests and kind of clicked.” You prayed that the questioning would stop soon. “Everything was just a blur after.”

Lilly nods, throughly invested in your fake love story. She’s about to ask another question when a sharp voice pierced through the air, causing you to be rooted to the ground. You really wanted to run away at that moment.

“What is this that I’m hearing? You’re actually seeing someone?” The clack of heels come to a stop and you find yourself facing your tormentor.

“It’s nice to see you too, Becca.” You grit through your teeth. The woman remains oblivious to your discomfort as she addresses the two others trailing behind her. “I wonder who’s the lucky man nice enough to pick her up!”

“That’s enough, I invite you to my wedding out of our friendship but this doesn’t give you the right to insult her.” Lilly shoots back, keeping her eyes trained on your curled fists.

“It’s alright, Lils.” You try to remain calm. “Let’s go. I’ll tell you everything later.” You take the lead to escort her back when Becca’s comment brings you to a halt.

“I bet he isn’t even real!”

Although she was right, you couldn’t help but to turn around, wanting to give Becca and her posse a piece of your mind. Something that you should have done a very long time ago.

“Oh, I’m very real alright.”

You see Miguel walking up towards the trio. Was it just you or did Miguel look… angry?

He composes himself, giving a charming grin to the trio who looked like they were going to start falling at his feet any moment.

“Miguel O’Hara. She has told me a lot about you three.”

“Oh, she has?” Becca twirls the edge of her skirt nervously and you don’t know where Miguel is going with this.

“Sure. She’s told me all about how you three dimwits made her entire life hell. Honestly? I don’t even know how that happened when she’s a hundred times classier with more substance than you plastics claim to have.” Miguel catches your eye and gives a quick wink.

“Excuse me?” Becca stutters. “Oh, I get it. She must have paid you to say that!”

Miguel walks over and gently loops an arm over your shoulders. By now, the conversation seemed to have attracted every guest who were lining up at the buffet table.

“Nope. But you know what she is? She is the most courageous and selfless person who wouldn’t hesitate to help others. I don’t think you three would even come close to understanding what that means.”

Miguel has done it. He’s left them speechless and every guest is know giving disapproving looks to the trio who can only storm away in embarrassment.

“I think I’m not that hungry yet. How about we take a walk?”

You realize that Miguel is asking you, so you nod numbly and find yourself being led out of the venue. You see Lilly standing at the entrance greeting guests.

Catching your eyes, she gives you a thumbs up and a mischievous grin, not bothered at all about the verbal altercation that was inadvertently caused by you. Amidst the chaos, one thought was clear in your mind.

Just what is going on?

***

The rainbow colored blocks providing as seats for families, friends and couples to take photos makes the sea look even clearer. Silence overtaking the two of you, you busy yourself with noticing how the jagged edges of the rocks are a wonderful addition to the waves crashing near the shore.

“What’s going on up there?”

Finally. You prepare yourself, stopping beside the statue. “I was just about to ask you the same thing O’Hara.” You take a brave step closer towards the hulking man and he briefly looks away before staring back at you. “Not that I’m ungrateful but that wasn’t like you.”

“Then, what am I supposed to be?”

You paused. “Well… you’re supposed to be grumpy and grouchy and keeping me at arm’s length I guess?” You search for the right words as Miguel contains a chuckle seeing how flustered you were becoming by the second. “And you’re suddenly being nice to me? Hell would have to freeze over.”

Miguel closes the already small gap between the two of you and you suddenly feel hot at his gaze. He examines you for a while and you think he’s about to deliver another sharp retort.

“I did try. I tried to keep you away but you were too bright and cheerful for your own good.” Miguel gruffly tells you. “You were so much like her.”

You knew that he was referring to his past. His wife whom no one really dared to talk about. You finally understood. To him, you were a walking and living painful reminder.

“I’m sorry.” You breathed out. The air suddenly constricts in your lungs and you feel the need to get away. Anywhere but here. You turn around and find yourself being pulled into him. Miguel hugs you, and he hugs you tight.

“No, I’m the idiot. I punished you for seeing you as someone else.” He confesses. “I should have just seen you as… you. You were so bright and so brave, I almost lost it when you took the bullets from Kingpin. That’s when I knew my behavior had to stop. I wanted to tell you and I guess I saw this as the perfect opportunity.”

“Oh.” You don’t know how else to react to this sudden revelation.

“But I meant every word. About me apologizing for my past behavior.” Miguel continues. “And that. Earlier on.” He refers to his relentless counter attack on your tormentors. “I didn’t know that you had to go through all that.”

“Hey, we all go through things right? Kind of a ticket to join the spider society.” You try to lighten things up. “Besides, it’s nothing big.”

Miguel pries you away gently, a slight frown on his face. “Don’t minimize your struggles. You are a hundred times stronger than those three combined. After all, that’s what made you stood out to me in the first place.”

Your heart swells at his statement. As you hear the waves crashing, it felt as if like it gave you a sense of newfound confidence as well. It was all or nothing now. You’re inches away from Miguel, his rosy cheeks prominent from the strong breeze that the coastal city offered. “I just have one more question.”

Miguel cocks his head to the side, curious. He doesn’t interrupt, giving permission for you to go ahead.

“You love me. Real or not real?”

He takes you by the waist, lips on yours. It could be minutes or hours before he lets go, leaving you in a daze. But the movement of his lips are as clear as day. One that would be forever etched in your memory.

“Real.”

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman: across the spiderverse

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deafmangoes · 2 months

Text

I'm not a shipper by nature, just putting that out there. But, uh, Dungeon Meshi does things to me.

Anyway, I've shared my Farcille thoughts, so now to blabber about a different popular ship: Labru. The Hot Mess. The Disaster Couple.

Firstly let's talk about the -bru part of the ship. Kabru is a neurotic little twink with PTSD and anxiety. I don't think that's in any sort of doubt. He exudes an entirely false confidence to hide his crippling self-hatred and survivor's guilt. For some reason, this makes him incredibly attractive to nearly everyone he encounters. Rin has the traditional tsundere crush, his whole party firmly believes in him (more than reflects his actual abilities), the ninjas blush when he smiles at them, even dead-hearted Mithrun warms up to him over time. The omakes take this even further: his landlord cleans his room for him, Dia's fiancé breaks down in tears when talking to him, and Holm's sister clearly wants to get it.

Kabru's not blind to any of this. He weaponises it, really. He's manipulative to an artform! Then he meets Laios. The Monsterfucker.

Laios' sexuality is not immediately clear from the manga. He definitely has a little flame for Marcille - between his awkwardness over touching her, his succubus taking her form, his illusion memory of her focusing on her power and strength - it's not love, I don't think it's even a crush, it's just that "boy sits across the table and stares intently at you" sort of feeling.

He doesn't show any direct interest in men but dearly desires their companionship. He practically kidnaps Shuro and - even though he struggles with Kabru's name at first - takes a liking to him instantly.

So do they make a good ship? Hell no, they're fucking awful together, but it works. Kabru just natually slithers in as advisor, and Laios is more than happy to have someone take all that off his plate. If there's anything there, I think it's one-sided from Kabru, and whatever feelings he has for Laios are based in his total confusion over how Laios just... survives. He finds him fascinating. Intriguing. Possibly sexually. If everyone else is an open book, Laios is the eldritch tome he cannot decipher and will burn him if he touches it. You can see why this ship seems to naturally arise from the canon.

But from Laios' point of view, I think he's... sort of homoerotic asexual? His feelings towards Marcille are more like a fascination with the exotic and monstrous (because she's Not A Tall-Man, and he doesn't want to be one), but his interactions with male companions are much more open and affectionate, even if he's a bit oblivious about it. I think he'd openly appreciate Kabru but wouldn't realise they were in a relationship until literally at the altar.

As another user put it: Laios is a human fascinated with monsters and wants to be one. Kabru sees himself as a monster and is fascinated with humans. They definitely compelement eachother.

#dunmeshi #dungeon meshi #labru #kabru dungeon meshi #laios dungeon meshi #more shipping discourse

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heartbreak-sandwich · 3 months

Text

Summary: Getting caught speeding has its consequences. When you realize it's all fun and games for the both of you, you're willing to play along for the reward. A secret and spontaneous getaway in the woods -- it's the perfect place to work out your differences, don't you think? Words: 2.2k CW: Gator being kind of a dick, police encounter (pulled over for speeding), unprotected p/v sex, fem!reader, misogynistic overtones if you squint, minor oral fixation, technically public encounter. A/N: I'm sorry it has taken me so long to post! I really struggled through this one, but I've gotten it to a place where I'm okay with it. I hope you enjoy it, and thank you so much for reading my thing!!!

NSFW below the cut, 18+, MDNI as usual ✨

The air is thick with fog, and you let out a long sigh while you wait for the deputy to approach your driver’s side window. The red and blue lights flash in your rearview mirror, and you start to feel heavy with resentment for last night’s power outage that reset your alarm clock, causing you to wake up half an hour later than usual. You know you were speeding; you can’t deny that. You’re late for work, and this pitstop is the last thing you need right now.

You sigh with disappointment when you realize Gator Tillman is trudging through the roadside gravel to your window. Why did it have to be him?

“Mornin’, sunshine.” Gator grins smugly, a toothpick hanging half out of the side of his mouth. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

“I’m late for work,” you grumble, avoiding making eye contact with him.

You two have a history, if you can even call it that. Half-memories flash through your mind of the one night stand you had after a heart to heart and one too many at the saloon downtown. If you’re being totally honest with yourself, Jack Daniels and summer evenings still make you think of him, but you’d never say it out loud.

“Goin’ 69 in a 60, huh?” Gator holds back a giggle as he waits for your response.

“Really, Tillman?” Your eyes narrow at his juvenile comment, and his smile falls flat. His mood shifts in an instant, and you see him push a small button on his body worn camera followed by a series of small beeps as it powers on.

“Just so you’re aware, you’re being audio and video recorded. The reason I stopped you is you were going approximately 69 miles per hour in a 60 mile per hour zone, clearly marked. License and registration,” he demands coldly, holding out his hand expectantly. You search through your glovebox for the documents and hand them over, steeping in the icy silence surrounding you, thinking that maybe if you had just laughed at his joke, he would have let you go on your way.

Gator takes your documents, shuffling them as he looks each one over before speaking to you once more. “You sit tight. I’ll be right back.” You prop your elbow up against your door and rest your head in your hand, letting your mind wander as you try your best to be patient.

After just a few minutes, you see Gator sauntering your way again through your sideview mirror. The way he walks makes your stomach flutter as more flashes of your night together run through your train of thought – his teeth sinking into your plush thighs one by one, the hungry growl rumbling from deep within his chest as he tasted you, and the pathetic whimper he couldn’t hold back as he pushed his desperate, twitching cock into you for the first time –

“Here you go, Miss.” Your daydream is cut short by his drawl as he hands your papers back to you. “I’m going to need you to step out of the vehicle now.” Your eyebrows shoot up in disbelief at his request. Why the hell is he doing this?

“Excuse me?” You ask, incredulous.

“Am I speakin’ Chinese?” Gator was serious. He wasn’t budging. You’re kicking yourself on the inside at this point, knowing he was only doing this to get back at you for bruising his ego over his stupid joke. A pang of regret hits low in your chest as you realize telling him you were late for work was a mistake.

“Gator, please –”

“Don’t make this harder on yourself, sweetheart. Step on out now.” He looks far off into the fog as he waits for you to comply, but you don’t move. Taking the toothpick out from between his teeth, he points it at you, cocking his head to the side. “You don’t want me to ask again.”

“What is it you want from me?”

“What do I want from you?” Gator chuckles, bending down to rest his forearms on your car, his head dipping into your window to meet your eyes. He hits the small button on his body cam once more, and you hear the device power down. “You know what I want,” he whispers softly, being careful not to let the rest of the world hear him. He leans in further until your faces are only inches apart. Your heartbeat hammers in your ears as you take in the scent of his musk mixed with remnants of fruity smoke, and you’re suddenly feeling lightheaded.

And just like that, you’re drowning in flashbacks again – the candy sweet taste of watermelon flavor on his tongue, his hair falling into his eyes as he fucked into you hard and slow, and the way he begged you to say his name as you came for him – and now you’re aching to play his games. You know exactly how to get him going. Softening your expression, you concede to the heat building in between your thighs, and despite the bone-cracking urge to mouth off to him, you try something new instead.

You decide to comply and let yourself out of your car, closing the door behind you, and you see a hint of shock flash over his features as he fights to keep his composure. He clears his throat.

“Place your hands on the hood of the vehicle,” Gator orders, and you follow his instruction dutifully. You palm the hood of your car, a seductive curve in your spine, and you can tell his resolve is starting to crumble with the way he’s eyeing you up and down, biting his bottom lip.

“Do you like me like this? Helpless?” Your eyes grow round and wide with innocence – the look of prey – and you notice Gator’s eyebrows raise just a fraction, but he ultimately maintains his poker face.

“Maybe,” he admits, his voice low and gravelly, dark chocolate eyes boring into yours. “Maybe I like having that kind of authority. Maybe I like knowing I could do whatever I wanted to you right now, and there isn’t anything you could do about it.” He approaches you slowly, each step making your anticipation burn brighter.

“Just maybe?”

“Okay,” he admits with a scoff. “You got me. I do like it.” He leans in closer to you so you can feel his breath on your lips. “I like you helpless because I like knowing that if you were to beg and pray, I would have the power to tell you no.” He lets the tips of his fingers brush up against your arm gently. “I like knowing that there would be nothing you could say or do to stop me from…” he trails off, a smirk playing on his lips as he licks his teeth.

“From what?”

Gator’s hands glide up to hold your wrists, removing your touch from the hood of your car. He pulls one of your hands to meet his jaw, grazing your soft skin over his stubble before pressing an almost chaste kiss to the tips of your fingers.

“From doing anything and everything I could dream of doing to a woman,” he murmurs, grinning against your skin. He grips both of your wrists firmly in front of him once more and pulls you against himself roughly as he makes his demand. “Now, ask me again, politely, what it is I want.”

“I think I already know,” you whisper against his lips playfully before he crashes them into yours, his strong arms circling your waist. He grips your asscheeks from underneath and pushes you up onto the hood of your car as he licks along your bottom lip, and you deepen the kiss. His tongue rolls over and over yours, lips locking perfectly together, and you can taste his familiar sweetness as he pushes his hips into you, grinding his already hard cock against your sweet spot over your jeans.

You moan into his mouth as his thrusts become even more needy, and your nails dig into his shoulder blades through his shirt. You’re not even thinking about the fact that anyone could drive by at any moment and see what’s happening – you’re too tangled up in each other to care. In a swift motion, Gator swipes at the bill of his hat and throws it to rest on the hood of the car beside you. His body weight presses into you before he finally breaks away, taking a deep breath and looking at you with wild eyes.

You suppress a smile as you take in the way he surveys you, soaking up his energy, loving every sick second of stroking his ego, giving him glimpses of the control he craves and getting your own physical satisfaction in return. You have him right where you want him, and he has no idea.

“Should we go somewhere?” Gator’s crooked smile makes your knees feel weak as his gaze flicks back and forth between your eyes and lips, and you can tell he’s doing his best to behave at least long enough to pose the question.

“Where?”

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

The ground underneath the picnic blanket is hard and uneven, but you don’t even feel it anymore. The sun speckles everything around you through the trees, and you vaguely notice the rustling of leaves and twigs as the birds change branches above you every so often. Gator had taken the two of you in his cruiser just far enough up the nearest hill to escape the fog, and the nip in the air didn’t bother you at all as soon as he was on top of you, in between your legs, tactical gear still in place while he ran his hands over your body, his hungry eyes feasting on every curve.

He started slow and gentle, purring soft requests in between light touches everywhere you wanted them. It didn’t take you long to realize he was playing you the same way you were playing him, and now you’re here, rolling your hips languidly as you ride him, using the straps and pockets on the front of his vest for more leverage.

He’s a moaning mess underneath you, his blunt nails digging into the flesh of your thighs as he grips them to stay grounded in reality. You let yourself wonder for a split second if anyone has ever pleased him like this before – if he has ever been so loud, so free, so incessantly desperate for more of someone like he is right here, right now, with you.

You pick up your pace and lean back just enough to put yourself on full display for him, his length reaching the perfect angle inside of you, eliciting a filthy whine you couldn’t stifle if you tried. Your eyes brim with tears as the pleasure builds at your core like an explosion threatening to detonate at any moment. You reach down and pry one of Gator’s hands from your thigh, bringing his fingertips up to your kiss-swollen lips.

He grins through his own bliss as he realizes what you’re about to do. Almost unable to form words, he breathes, “I swear, you’re tryin’ to kill me, woman.” With a sinful smile, you graze two of his fingers past your lips and teeth along your tongue until they reach the back of your throat. Creating the perfect amount of suction, you move his fingers in and out of your mouth in time with your hips, your pussy flexing around his cock with the idea of being just a little bit more full of him.

A strangled half sob slips past Gator’s lips through his gritted teeth as his brows knit together, and his free hand pulls you down onto him harder and faster, the lewd sounds of flesh on flesh filling the space around you.

“Gonna cum. Don’t fuckin’ stop,” he demands, a string of expletives following just as the wave of your own climax crashes over you. Sordid sounds pour from your mouth as you release his fingers from its grasp, gushing and writhing on his cock in a way you know you’ll be ashamed to relive after this.

You feel a bruising grip on your thighs as he holds you down, burying himself up to the hilt in your soaked pussy while his hips buck and spasm against his will.

“Gonna fill you up so good,” he growls just before you feel a hot rush inside of you, his thick release coating your walls in bursts as his mouth falls open and his eyes roll back, his fingertips clawing into your skin, holding on for dear life.

Coming down from your high, you use your hands on his chest to steady yourself, resting your weight on your knees as you both catch your breath. The sounds of the woods in the background become louder again as you take in your surroundings.

“Damn,” Gator breathes, letting out a sigh and a small chuckle.

“Been a while,” you muse, a smirk playing on your lips as your eyes meet his once again.

“Sure has,” he agrees. “Can’t keep me waitin’ like that again.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you promise with a cheeky wink.

tagging: @mrprettywhenhecries @b1tchywheeler @stevesxyellowxsweater @atinyliliflower @darleenjade @floredaqueen - ily guys, thank u for your encouragement and love, it means the world to meeeee!!! 💕

#gator tillman #gator tillman x reader #gator tillman smut #fargo s5 fanfic #gator tillman fanfic #gator tillman x fem!reader #gator tillman x you #I really hope this is suitable #yes he keeps his gear on because....why the hell not #fanfic writing #fargo fanfic #gator tillman fanfiction #it's a shoddy banner but you know what? it's fine

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sinkovia · 3 months

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Fluff idea!!!!!!

Hear me out:

Reader adopts two cats, Price has to deal with them :3

I jus think it'll be fun

I THINK PRICE WOULD HAVE SO MUCH BEEF WITH THE CATS LMAO. Only at first though, I feel like he would slowly start warming up to them after realizing they could be sweet and not act like giant New York street rats.

As you enter the pet store to grab some bird feed for your front porch hummingbird feeders, you find yourself drawn to the area near the adoption center. You heard the sound of soft mewing as you approached, and two feline faces peered out from a cage, their eyes reflecting a mixture of curiosity and wariness.

Reading the tag, you discovered that they were a girl and boy duo who had just arrived at the store yesterday. Found in a box outside, they looked a bit worse for wear, and the tag mentioned that they were the last ones left for adoption. Unable to resist the pull of compassion, you decided to get a closer look.

One of the cats, the more adventurous of the two, cautiously approached. You extended your hand through the bars, and the cat sniffed it curiously before rubbing the top of its head against your palm. A wave of affection swept over you as you felt the soft fur under your fingers.

The two kitties had tugged at your heartstrings, and you knew you couldn't leave them behind. Your excitement grew, and with a sense of purpose, you started looking for a store worker to inquire about the adoption process. The idea of providing a loving home for them made your trip to the pet store even more fulfilling than you had anticipated.

The front door creaked open, and you slipped inside with a cardboard box cradled carefully in your arms. John, engrossed in something on the TV, glanced your way as he heard the door but didn't pay it much mind until he saw you with the box.

"What's in the box?" curiosity etched on his face.

"Nothing," you replied with a sly smile, but just as you spoke, a soft meow emanated from the box. John raised an eyebrow, immediately skeptical.

"No, you didn't," he declared with a knowing look as the meows continued. You winced slightly, rubbing your stomach, and with a dramatic expression, "Ooo wow, must have been that food I ate earlier. I'm so gassy,"

The meows persisted, growing louder, and you paused. Caught in the act, you couldn't suppress your smile. John just shook his head, laughing at your attempt at secrecy. You kneeled down, letting them out of the box. They slowly peeked their heads out one after the other.

“You got two? love.” You quickly picked one up, holding him up in front of John’s face.

“Look how cute they are hun. This one is Chucky and that one is Tiff. It’s short for Tiffany.” He smiled seeing how excited you were.

As days passed, John's initial amusement turned into exasperation when he found himself facing the challenges that came with the new additions to the family. The first encounter was during a flea bath. Attempting to help, he found himself in a comical struggle as Chucky scratched him when he wriggled in his arms.

"You bloody spawn of the devil!" John exclaimed as he ran up his arm and scratched down his back. Losing his balance, he stumbled foward, ending up in the tub, now covered in cat hair.

You quickly put Tiff down, “Oh my god are you okay?” you helped him out of the tub and left to get a towel. He huffed, glaring at Chucky lick his paw on the bathroom counter as if nothing happened.

Nighttime snuggling became a distant memory as the cats took their positions on either side of you, leaving no room for John to join in. He would glare at them as they slept peacefully, snuggled and warm next to you, and all he could do was shake his head, muttering about "bloody spawns of the devil."

The next morning, as John stood in the kitchen, pouring coffee into a mug, he saw Chucky eyeing him from the counter. He scowled at him.

"You're like a rat, you know that?" he muttered, shooting a glare at him. "You think you can snuggle up next to my wife and kick me to the curb? You're a little devil spawn."

Your head peeked into the kitchen, eyebrows raised. "Did you say something?"

John casually took a step back from the cat, "No, love. Nothing at all." when you left he took a sip of his coffee glaring at Chucky who just slowly blinked at him.

One afternoon, during John's focused work, the duo darted through the house, leaving chaos in their wake as they knocked over his coffee mug. While John sighed in frustration, you got up chasing after them. Catching one of the troublemakers, you held him up to John's face.

"I'm sorry for spilling coffee on your paperwork, I promise it won't happen again," you voiced the imaginary apology on behalf of Chucky. John initially wore an unamused expression until you peeked your head from behind the feline, revealing an apologetic smile. The tension melted, and a reluctant grin spread across John's face.

In the days that followed, the cats, undeterred by John's attempts to shoo them away, found his legs to be irresistible scratching posts. Persistent and curious, they continued their mischief, extending their claws despite John's efforts to maintain a sense of composure.

On one particular night, as John lay on his back, Tiff decided to make herself comfortable. She stretched luxuriously before gracefully climbing onto his chest, kneading his stomach with her paws. After a few rounds of kneading, she curled into a ball, settling on his chest. John huffed out a sigh, feeling the weight of the feline on him. Her large, puffy tail occasionally swiped across his nose, prompting him to turn his head to the side. However, her tail still managed to find its way toward him, eliciting a sneeze or two and a touch of irritation to the otherwise peaceful night.

John couldn't deny the joy the cats brought to the household. John found himself growing attached to the mischievous pair. The initial resistance transformed into reluctant acceptance, and before long, he was reaching for them to scratch behind their ears and indulging them in their nightly cuddle sessions. The stray cats had not only found a home but had also carved out a special place in John's heart.

╭∩╮( •̀_•́ )╭∩╮ << Price to Chucky when reader isn't looking.

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flowersforchoso · 6 months

Text

Making up with bi-han

this is the sequel to breaking up with bi han, which can be found here

even after he beseeched for another chance, you remained resolute in your decision. unwavering

though the rejection bruised his ego and badly, he was not going to act crazy over it. if you were expecting him to grovel, then forget it because he won't do that

however, his hurt this time directed inwards. he feels it deeply, marinates in it. the pain is immersive. like ripping the bandages of fresh wounds and dousing it with salt.

what he feels is defeat. which manifests as a sinister detachment. the shift in his behaviour is almost imperceptible but its hyper visible, to a keen eye. he would still lash out from time to time, albeit with less vigor. he's become much more... subdued. in mannerism. almost as if the lin kuei grandmaster was replaced by a clone.

as a man who hates showing emotions, he keeps to himself, unbeknownst that it was instead, a riveting display of it

and all because of a woman's rejection no less. not just any woman, but a woman whom he loves. someone he opened his heart for, a rare occurrence.

its at this point that kuai liang intervenes because something was amiss. and since nobody knows his brother better than him, he could tell he was hurting despite trying to mask it, or failing to do so.

so he comes to you acting as a mediator of sorts. a bridge connecting distant worlds. proposing you consider his brother's affections towards you.

the encounter shocks you to say the least, and you express your disbelief in bi han having to resort to cheap tricks such as this—sending others to beg on his behalf

to which kuai liang corrects, by telling you that this was out of his own volition. his brother had nothing to do with it and this concerns you for bi han was haughty. you never could've imagined you, of all people, got to him this way.

you think it through and decide that maybe, a change was due

so you took initiative and requested to see him. with kuai liang being the messenger, that puts hermes to shame, and to bi han's consternation. he didn't ask neither did he appreciate the meddling

you arrived at madame bo's. when it was sparse and dark. beyond closed hours. you felt this was too serious and solemn of a meeting as you entered the establishment. and she, madame bo herself, playfully scolded you for being such a heartbreaker. wait. how did she know this?

you stood in a corner. then began pacing, rehearsing all the things you wanted to say to him as the restaurant emptied out

few minutes later, there was an addition. bi han appeared and you heard your heart beat loudly. a tumultuous sound capable of rupturing your eardrums

he approached you. bore the familiar scowl that etched across his features. you imagined he thought the occasion ridiculous and juvenile. a tangle reserved for the school-aged

"you wanted to see me" he grinds out causing your eyes to dart upwards to meet his. searching for... only heaven knows, as you drew in shaky breaths. the air loathing you in the moment.

then you willed yourself into speaking, allowing the hurt and pain take over by pouring your heart out; telling the ways he hurt you, and how he maintained he had done no wrong, justifying himself. invalidating your feelings

you couldn't prevent the tears from falling as you recount those memories. letting out mournful sobs when you told him you loved him then, and still do now

bi han is taken aback by all of this. seeing you crestfallen, a side he had never seen, and being the reason was gut-wrenching. which propels him to envelope you in an embrace

he then apologizes, a first for him, killing the ugly need to defend himself. there's so much he wants to say, but lacks the linguistic flexibility to convey the emotions that welled from within him, with you, in the dark about his internal struggles

when you finally steadied yourself, you sniffed, "thank you. that's all i wanted to hear"

#bi han x reader #bi han x you #subzero mk1 #mk1 bi han #sub zero x you #mk1 sub zero x reader #subzero x reader #bi han sub zero #mortal kombat 1

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sfehvn · 6 months

Text

intruder part 3

Part 1 | Part 2

Description: A year has since came and went following Astarion's ascension ritual. He is no longer himself, but then... Where is he? A/N: This part is a lot of lore-building so no actual Astarion appearances but I hope it's enjoyable all the same! Rating: M (18+ minors DNI) Word count: 1,820 Characters: Characters: ascended!Astarion x Tav

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The forest of Emerald Grove manifests around you. Thick trees and rocky precipices grace your views, abruptly causing a wistful awareness to settle into your mind. The odd situation you were currently in aside, you never dreamed you would yearn to return to such a time. Memories flooded your head. Your very first encounter with the man who had so gracefully held a knife to your throat out of fear and turmoil. The very first time you had welcomed him with open arms and a profound desire between these very trees. Despite the rockiness your relationship had survived through at the time, you remember how heartbroken you felt when Astarion revealed his true motives of gaining security out of you through bedding you. At the leading edge, though, you recall his admission of falling for you.

“How-” You struggle to find the words as you turn to stare at the man who had approached you in the Elfsong Tavern, “What are you doing?”

Your query was disregarded as the man spoke, “You wish for your lover to be restored.” It was a matter-of-fact statement, the corners of his lips turning up into a smile. “Ah, but you have said lover.” The man pointed his words.

Alarm bells rang through your skull. You took a moment to survey your surroundings and breathe in the familiar fresh air, glancing at the shimmering moon. Were you actually here? Or was this all an illusion? You let your eyes falter back to the man whose name you still had no clue of. “How do you know this?” No good could come from this particular situation, you knew. “Why are we here?” Your intimidation ultimately failed, causing your voice to crack and waver.

“My apologies. I can take us somewhere more suited to your tastes. Where would you prefer?” His hand raised, and with a quick snap of his fingers, you are transported to the Last Light Inn. It is empty and void of life. “Or would you choose not to stray too far from home?” Another snap, and you’re back on the streets of Baldur’s Gate, the dead city a stark contrast from your walk to the tavern. “Where is comfortable for you, dear?”

You close your eyes tightly for a moment before reopening them. You knew better than to entertain this man; the last time you had made good with someone who miraculously appeared before you with offers of fixed problems, it had not worked out for you or Astarion. While eager for some sort of answer to your dire questions, for a fix of the situation at hand, the red flags rang. You had never told this man your problems, yet here he was, claiming it to be destiny bringing the two together to fix them. “I am not interested. Return me to the tavern at once.” It was a demand.

“As you wish.” His smile is sly as he brings his hand up once more, transporting you two back to your previous spots seated at the table in Elfsong. This time, not a soul resides in the tavern. You take note that the barkeep, Alan, was also gone.

“Where is everyone?” In bewilderment, you look back at the strange man.

“The apparitions are a bit much to maintain for long. Suppose if that makes you comfortable, though. It shall be done.” Another snap, and the small, jovial crowd is back once more. Alan is back behind the bar, shining glasses, a grin large enough to make you uneasy stretched onto his lips.

“What is this?” The defeat was thick in your cadence. You return your anguished glare to the man. You scanned him for a break in facade, but there was none. He just- well, he looked like any other man you may have come across. Looks could be deceiving; a lesson learned many times.

“You can provide me with something I want.” His response was quick, with no hesitation. “In turn, I will return your lover to you. As he was before.” Your brows furrowed in indignation. While your entire body screamed at you to take the deal, no questions asked, trepidation stopped you from responding too hungrily.

“I will be making no deals with devils. I’ve come to understand it could never end well for the one who is not the devil.” Despite this man seeming to be your only option with the watchful eye of Astarion on you at what feels like all times, you couldn’t risk making the situation any worse. Could it get much worse? Your subconscious nagged. “Besides, I would still like to know how you’ve found me.”

The man let out a howl of laughter, throwing his head back in amusement. “I am no devil, Tav.” He shifts forward, hands clasped before him and coming to rest on the table. “Though I can understand it may be hard to discern given our meeting. However, I did not have much opportunity for a natural one since you are under lock and key at all times.” You recall the trance-like state in which you left the palace and come to realize it must have been every bit a trance. “I am but a humble sorcerer. As for how I found you, well, it seems we share a common enemy. Though, I could feel your heartache dimensions away.” His head quirks, and it feels as if he is boring into your very soul.

Unprompted, the man continues. “Your lover, Astarion, opened himself up to the very demons that reside in the hells during his ascension ritual. Now, stay with me because this is going to get complicated.” He glances around the room before snapping the apparitions away. You hadn’t even realized how disfigured the residents in the tavern had become. “I hope you don’t mind. As I said, the apparitions can be daunting.” He clears his throat.

“Are you insinuating a demon resides within Astarion’s body? Demons are physical beings.” You dig your mind for anything you may have heard about demonic possessions, but none come to mind. Sure, you’ve seen your fair share of ghost possessions among mortals, but this was not what was being implied. A demon could impose a sort of mind control, but the soul would still be active and aware. Not pushed deep into the darkness of its own body. The demon must also be present for such a thing to occur.

“Precisely. Demons are physical beings, but are you familiar with the apothecary swindlers that reside in the hells?” A slow shake of your head urges the sorcerer to continue. “This covenant has made enough gold to fill all of the pockets of Faerûn with their scheming. A truly unfounded market, I’ll give them that.” He chortles lightly before continuing, “Anyhow, they slay these demons, extract, and capture their very essence to be repurposed as a medicine for all ailments. Most folks are smart enough to steer clear, but you will always have your bold noblemen and ladies who strive for the power and fame that these apothecaries promise.”

“So Astarion-” You start but are cut off.

“Your lover did not seek these services, no.” He states quickly. “This is where things get a bit tricky. These very regular people oftentimes do not end up with precisely what they’ve paid for. The essence of these demons seeks power, a vessel in which they can reign in a new physical form and physically rebuild themselves. The process is slow; it can take centuries for this transformation to occur. Most mortal bodies will not even make it to see this through, as the demon residing within them does not grant the vessel immortality.”

“But an ascended vampire…” You trail, the dots connecting in your mind.

“An ascension ritual such as the one Astarion partook is exactly the thing to send the dinner bells ringing to a demon’s essence.” The man confirms. “The most plausible explanation is one had been freed from its confinements and made its way into your lover’s body. After a few hundred years, his form will take on the one of the demon who controls his vessel- erm, body.” He corrected after your pointed glare was received.

“What exactly do you get out of this?” You ask quickly, the suspicion in your voice evident.

“While I would love to say I’m doing this solely to save your and your lover’s tortured souls, that would be a blatant lie.” There is the faintest pause in his words. “The demon Elralluun rules his body. In his prime, he was known for brutalizing hundreds of villages. Would kill men, women, and children all the same.” You sense a deep tinge of sorrow masked in the man’s words and decide you won’t pry further. “I’ve thought him dead until recently. I felt him. The heat of rage and hatred lit afire in my bones. One that left my being the second he was slain. I felt it all.”

You nod numbly in understanding. “How do we free Astarion?”

There’s silence as you watch the man find the words to say. “To destroy the vessel is to free the soul.”

“Absolutely not.” You snapped, heart sinking to your toes. You could never kill Astarion knowing he was still in there somewhere.

“Tav, think this over. He will be gone anyway once the transformation has taken hold. I understand this is a tough decision, but his sacrifice may even save him from total damnation. This is the only way. I do not have the power to defeat him. You do. You are a hero, through and through.” The man’s words struck your chest, causing you to gulp in a large, unneeded breath. Tears pooled in your eyes and you feverishly wiped at them, standing from your seat.

“Well, find another way.” Your voice was raised, eyes shooting daggers into the still-sitting man.

“There is no other way.” Each word was emphasized, with a look of empathy but seriousness on his features. “Think this through. I will find you again soon, and you can give me your answer then. You may come to see this to be the most merciful outcome for you and your companion.” He stands from his seated position, giving you one last look of sympathy before departing the Tavern.

Disoriented, you raise your head from the oak desk, acting as a pillow for your rest. You couldn’t discern if the encounter had happened in reality or not as you shifted your head to see the tower of books beside you, exactly where you had left them before making your exit from the manor. You were back in the library. A note scrawled in careful penmanship sat on the desk that had not been there before.

‘I will continue to search for an alternative. I will return in seven days time for an answer regardless. I trust you will make the right choice.

Leif’

#astarion x tav #astarion x reader #ascended!astarion x tav #ascended!astarion x reader #ascended astarion #astarion #bg3 #x reader #x tav #tav

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bearsbeetsbeskar · 1 year

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Restoring the Roots (Joel Miller x Therapist! reader)

Chapter 1: Pre-Contemplation

Chapter 2 here | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | main masterlist |

Pairing: Joel Miller x therapist! reader, post outbreak Rating: none, will be changed to explicit in future chapters (slow burn, eventual smut, age gap) Summary: Life after moving to Jackson looks drastically different for Joel, survival mode is over and now he and Ellie can finally put down new roots. Ellie adapts easily but Joel finds himself struggling to settle into this new life, in more ways than some. At Ellie and Tommy’s insistence, Joel begrudgingly finds himself in therapy to try and work through his struggles but what he encounters is more than just painful memories and deeply rooted trauma. A/N: I cannot say enough thank you's to the number of lovely humans who encouraged this idea and supported me as I embark on my very first fic! And what better Pedro character to be the guinea pig for this idea? Lots of this story draws on my personal knowledge as a social worker, as I am working towards becoming a certified equine assisted therapist. Consequently, there are lots of horsey terms, therapy terms, and vivid descriptions of trauma at certain points. Feel free like, comment, or reblog if you enjoy it :)

Taglist (for now): @beskarandblasters, @pr0ximamidnight, @theewokingdead, @atinylittlepain, @prolix-yuy, @swiftispunk, @harriedandharassed, @amywritesthings

If anyone wants to be on the taglist please let me know! If you don't want to be on it then also let me know lol.

~~~~~~~

You sat up taller in your chair, arching your back and rolling your shoulders in an effort to stretch out your spine, exhaling softly as you heard the cacophony of crunches and protests from your muscles. You had been hunched over your notepad for over an hour, eyebrows scrunched together and your mind running on autopilot, as you caught up on client notes that you had fallen behind on for the last couple days. The downside of having a small therapy practice, hell any therapy practice, was that there was a never ending litany of documentation to fill out. Seeing as you were the only therapist in the tiny commune of Jackson, there was never a shortage of clients and consequently, never a shortage of session notes that you had to write.

“Hun.”

You hear your name spoken in a warm tone from behind you. You barely look up from the page as you try to rewrite the word ‘diagnosis’ after what feels like the fifth time. The word has basically lost all its meaning at this point.

“Honey, c’mon, the sun is about ready to set and you can wrap that up tomorrow.” The cover page to the notepad closes on top of your hand and you look up to see your assistant, Tracey, giving you a knowing look and then glancing towards the front of the office. You follow her gaze to the front windows and take in the deep ember orange hue washing over the business faces and windows on the opposite side of the street, signaling the end of another day. Sighing softly, you lean back in your chair and cross your arms over your chest with a frown. You know she’s right and yet you still have the same dispute every day.

“Trace, you and I both know that if I don’t get them done today, they will just be added to tomorrow’s to do list, besides this is the last one I swear,” you say to her with a smirk, as if she has not heard that excuse before.

You were never the kind of person to half-ass your responsibilities at your job, including client documentation, even if there was no longer any governing body or association to uphold professional social work standards. You did your job with integrity, even the mundane administrative tasks that involved more writing than actual talking with clients. Tracey knew this of course, it was something she admired about you, how suited you were for this line of work. It was clear that you cared deeply for the clients that you supported. But it doesn’t mean it was not a fight when the end of the workday rolled around and she had to tear you away from your desk and practically shove you out of the office door.

She rolled her eyes at you and her lips curled into a small smile as she headed towards the door with her coat and bag in tow. “Promise me you will at least be out of here before the night patrol starts?” She points her finger at you as she stops just ahead of the door. You nod and wave her off as you turn your focus back to the notepad, smoothing your palm over the words etched into the cover ‘Restorative Reins.’

You had only been in Jackson for roughly over a month, though it felt like much longer. Much like everyone else who had survived the outbreak and came to find refuge in the small settlement after the world went to shit, you were grateful to accept any basic decencies of normal life that were afforded to you. Warm meals, warm showers, hell running water in general was a miracle in and of itself at that point. So when you actually arrived in Jackson, you were dumbfounded to see how much normalcy surrounded you. Children running and playing in the streets, storefronts of various thriving businesses, sheep being rounded up in a nearby corral - hold on, a fucking MOVIE THEATER?

While it took some time to grow out of the perpetual fight or flight mode that you were entrenched in from life on the road, you did eventually fall into a good pace in Jackson. Especially after getting involved in the community and taking up the job as the local therapist, you had never been busier, and you loved it.

The world felt unflinchingly obsolete post outbreak, but being able to support others with their mental health never failed to bring you joy and an unshakeable sense of purpose. You wanted to help others as they navigated their pain and broke down the mental blocks that entrapped them in their trauma. You wanted to help them realize the innate strength that they possessed. Sadly, you never got the chance to practice long term, as you finished up grad school just before the outbreak happened. But that didn’t seem to matter now as you had an endless stream of community members that you saw on a weekly basis at your practice, all with their own pain and struggles, seeking support.

It was crazy to think about the short period of time that had passed since you started at the job, how much you had done for the residents, how much more that you wanted to do. You were pulled from your memories when the office phone rang, internally groaning as you looked at your watch.

4:58 p.m. Of course.

Steeling yourself you picked up the phone, praying that it was a quick call.

“Restorative Reins Practice, how can I help you?” you answered.

“Oh! hi ma'am,” a warm, mellow Southern drawl greets you on the other end. “Are you the local therapist that has been helpin’ folks out around here with their mental health?”

"That's me,” you reply warmly, “what can I do for you?”

The man hesitates briefly, “Well, I was uh wanting to know a bit more about the business I guess, how the therapy process works, fees and stuff for someone who was interested in getting help. Not me though, it’s not for me, it’s for my brother, Joel. My name is Tommy by the way,” he mentions quickly.

“No problem Tommy, I can explain the basics to you including the different types of therapy I offer and how the process works,” you reassure him. You explain to him the different services, how the equine therapy worked, walk in hours, session lengths and so on.

“I should probably mention that my brother ain’t keen on getting help and reaching out to others when he needs it, he’s too damn proud to acknowledge it, so he really doesn’t think he has any issues and thinks everything is fine… but he’s having a real tough time settlin’ down here. He’s so haunted by his past and he’s been acting differently lately, more temperamental, well, more than usual,” Tommy adds. You smile to yourself and nod, as you’ve had many clients before who were stuck in similar struggles and closed off to therapy initially.

“I can definitely understand that,” you sympathize with him. “It sounds like your brother has been through a lot and you just want him to get some support, which is great. Therapy isn’t for everybody but I have worked with many individuals like him who were going through similar situations, and they found great success.”

“That’s great to hear. That’s all I want for him is to get some help,” Tommy states.

“Now with that being said,” you continue, “therapy is voluntary, I cannot force someone to attend, but if your brother would agree to a consultation with me, I could chat with him more about where he is at, the kind of support he could benefit from and go from there. No pressure to commit to anything,” you propose to him.

“Hmm, I think he could be persuaded to try that, now that you mention it like that,” Tommy chuckles, sounding pleasantly surprised.

“Awesome! You can tell him to stop by the office any time and we can discuss it more. We’re open from 9-5,” you tell him, silently relieved that it was an indeed quick call. He thanks you and hangs up.

Something else akin to curiosity creeps into your mind as you recount what Tommy briefly told you about his brother. Maybe more so intrigue. You wonder how resistant he is to therapy, what happened in his past to hurt him so deeply, but you catch yourself before your thoughts run away from you further, either way you look forward to helping another person in need.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Tommy, I swear to god if you bring up this damn therapy shit again, I won’t hesitate to shoot you next time we’re out on patrol,” Joel growled through clenched teeth, as he walked away from his brother into the kitchen of the house.

“Boy, it ain’t like I never heard that before,” Tommy quipped sarcastically, rolling his eyes as he followed Joel into the kitchen, pausing in the doorway as he leaned against the frame, hands shoved into his pockets. He observed his brother's rigid stance, the tightness in his shoulders, as Joel stood over the sink, looking out the window.

This felt like the umpteenth time that Tommy had broached the subject of Joel getting help and talking to a ‘shrink,’ as he dismissively described it, for the issues that he was struggling with. Joel was fine. He didn’t have any fucking issues. He was doing just fine and didn’t need some professional to scrutinize him, reduce him to his vices, and open old wounds from his past life. He was encouraged to go to grief counseling after Sarah died but by some grace of God, or whatever godforsaken omnipotent entity existed at that point, the outbreak occurred. Forget mental health, physical health and survival became the only focus.

Tommy exhaled softly. “Listen, I'm only suggestin’ it because I care about you. Ellie cares about you. You both have been through hell and back in the last year, I mean shit, we all have. But it seems like everything y’all went through is still affecting you, holding you back from letting your guard down and settling in here,” he states plainly, sadness lacing his tone.

“That’s bullshit Tommy and you know it,” Joel snaps, turning to face his younger brother and leaning back against the counter, arms crossed in defense. His gaze narrows. “I go out on patrol don’t I? Pick up extra shifts wherever it’s needed, help out with the contracting jobs, go out with Ellie in town.” Joel stood up taller, puffing out his chest, challenging his younger brother. Tommy shook his head, running his hand over his face with an exasperated expression. Heaven forbid Joel did anything for himself that did not involve contributing or providing for someone, period. He just couldn’t shake that from his identity, and it broke Tommy’s heart as he watched his brother’s stubborn pride, ridden with guilt and trauma, swallow him whole.

“Man when are you gonna fuckin’ do something for yourself Joel?!” Tommy asserted, his frustration reaching a boiling point. “Forget the damn commune, forget the community, forget Ellie for a sec and think about the last time YOU did something for yourself, the last time YOU reached out for help goddamnit.” He pushed off the doorframe and crossed the threshold of the kitchen as he strode towards Joel.

“You’re not on the run anymore brother. You don’t have to just survive. You can have a life here. You can sleep without keepin’ one eye open and relax without lookin’ over your shoulder. Don’t you want that? Don’t you think you deserve that?! Don’t you think you deserve this?!” Tommy said as he gestured around the cozy kitchen and fixed his older brother with a pleading stare.

Joel’s eyes widened as he tried to step back, the edge of the counter biting into his lower back as he took in Tommy’s weary face, the pain in his soft brown eyes, mirroring his own. His younger brother rarely raised his voice anymore. The outbreak took its toll on his hot headed temperament that never seemed to simmer down, even after he was discharged from the army. Joel knew that Tommy cared about him, hell he knew how deeply his brother loved him, after all they had respectively been through in the last twenty years, it had to be serious for him to raise his voice.

Joel opened his mouth, ready to bite back but his brother raised his hands in the air in surrender, “Look, this is the last time I will bring this up, I swear. But yesterday I called up the therapist in town who’s been helpin’ folks out, and asked her about the therapy process and she seems real nice, and supportive. She said you could come in for a consultation and talk to her and see if you’re interested,” Tommy said quietly.

Joel’s gaze narrows as he scrunches his eyebrows together in incredulity, “You-”

“I had nothing to lose Joel. Absolutely nothing. And neither do you,” Tommy cuts him off, raising his chin in defiance. “At least go talk to the therapist, if you don’t like her or you’re not feelin’ it, then I’ll drop it and let it go. Okay? The office is on the main street, just beside the clothing store, adjacent to the stables and they’re open everyday from 9-5.”

“Jesus fucking Christ Tommy,” Joel leaned back as he looked up at the ceiling, wishing it would collapse in on him. Gotta love that brotherly love.

“Look I should be getting back now, Maria will be waiting for me. Here’s the number and address for the business. I’ll see you around okay?” Tommy patted through his pockets and retrieved a small piece of paper with writing scribbled on it, placing it on the counter beside Joel. He gave him a last placating look before he walked out of the kitchen, the front door closing behind him with a soft click.

Joel pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled sharply before turning back around to look out the kitchen window. He hung his head in defeat, rounding his back as he rested his elbows on the counter and glared into his matte reflection in the sink. He didn’t need any help. He was doing fine. He’s still upright and breathing, with blood coursing through his veins isn’t he? Albeit, he's not jumping out of bed like a sprightly thirty year old anymore. His knees pop and crackle when he gets up from crouching over machinery for too long, his joints protest the next day when he pushes himself too far, moving slower than usual on job sites.

Hell, even his memory is starting to get cloudy around the edges. If it weren’t for Ellie some days, he’s sure he would leave the house without pants on, what with her always reminding him where things are in the house, special events that are coming up in the community that he forgets about. He had been a bit more snappy than usual, as Ellie so lovingly pointed out one day, but that’s nothing compared to his normal demeanour.

“You’re becoming a grumpy motherfucker y'know that? Jeez, who shit in your cornflakes this morning?” She grumbled at him with a mouth full of cereal, after he snapped at her reminder that it was parent day at the local school. Parent day, P.A. day, Joel hadn’t dealt with any of this shit in over twenty years since Sarah was in school. Even then he managed to swiftly neglect many of the parental events, seeing as Sarah was the perfect student, with nothing but glowing reviews from her teachers. The fact that Ellie was going to school amidst a fucking apocalypse was enough for Joel to be content.

But still, he’s doing fine, right? Just fine.

“Maybe talking to someone that’s not related to you would help you, y’know? Being able to talk about shit that you can’t talk to me, or Tommy, or anyone else about you know?” Ellie proposed to him later that night.

As luck would have it, she was already home when Joel and Tommy spoke in the kitchen and she had heard pretty much the entire conversation. And like Tommy, she only wanted Joel to get support because she cared about him.

“Think of all the shit that we went through in the past year, forget the infected, and the raiders, and FEDRA, and almost dying,” she casually listed off on one hand as if she was reciting a grocery list.

“There's so much shit that we’re both carrying with us, demons from our past, and it’s gotta come out one way or another. Look, therapists aren’t there to judge you, or analyze you,” she continued, “they’re kind of like a sounding board for you to bounce your thoughts off of, and they help you process shit you’re going through. You never know unless you try it,” she said matter of factly.

“Like Tommy said, you got nothing to lose man. Plus the whiskey and pills will only help you numb reality for so long, you’re gonna go insane eventually,” she said, fixing him with a knowing look as she leaned back into the couch beside him.

Joel just grunted in response and frowned. Damn this kid for being too insightful for her own good.

Ellie might be young but she most certainly wasn’t naive. And as much as Joel would have liked to assume that her easy transition into life in Jackson was on account of her youthfulness, it really wasn’t. It was just the fact that she had never known a normal life, as heartbreaking as that was. She never had the chance to experience such normalcy before everything turned on its head. But she developed friendships with a few of the other teens in the community, namely one girl Dina, who she hung out with after school, went to the movies and other community events with.

She didn’t have to actively try to fit into Jackson, she just did. Joel would never acknowledge the pangs of jealousy he felt gnawing at his insides when he saw her getting on so well, but it didn’t mean they chipped away at his morale any less.

Ellie smirked at his lack of response, knowing he was mulling it over in his mind. With the relationship they had developed over the past year, she was grateful to be able to talk to Joel and actually get through to him.

“Damn maybe I should be a fuckin’ therapist, that was good advice wasn’t it?” she grinned at him, elbowing him in his side.

Joel snorted and shook his head. “Christ, I must be losing my mind for real this time if you’ve got me considering it.”

“Now c’mon,” she wiggled her eyebrows at him, “you owe me at least a few games of Boggle for that pep talk,” she said triumphantly, holding up the weathered board game that was on the coffee table.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x therapist! reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller #the last of us #tlou #the last of us hbo #equine assisted therapy #equine therapy

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val-cansalute · 5 months

Text

PICKING UP THE ———- PIECES -———

ch. 1

ch. 2

ch. 3

ch. 4

ch. 5

ch. 6

a/n: short first chapter 🫤 also BORING AS FOCK but the next few will be longer and better, just stick with me cw: implied depression/ptsd, dark themes, not too heavy but please don’t read if this might trigger you, angst, no smut in this chapter but there might be some later on, creds to cafekitsune for dividers, MDNI 😡

Six months ago today, your gaunt figure limped through Jackson for the first time, arms scarred and trembling, and face adorned with a vacant expression. You’ve been here for a while now.

You heard Maria say, with time, you’d come out of your shell - actually speak to the others. But, no, you still stay holed up in your decaying room, recalling what happened that day obsessively, and only ever leaving to go on patrol. Only when you absolutely have to.

God, you don’t even know if you can call this grief anymore. Seems as though you built a nest in the sorrow. Would it still be considered missing him if you desperately want to stop seeing his face whenever you close your eyes.

Fuck, don't say that. Never say that.

Promise I still love you, big brother. Promise I'd do anything to see you again.

Well, nobody really pays you any mind; you just sink into the shadows of the shitty little apartment you've been put in. And it doesn’t matter to you because the thought of getting close to people again makes you sick anyway.

Never wanna feel this pain. Never again. Fuck, just go away, please.

I'm so sorry, Soren.

You’ve waited it out for months but, at this point, you've given up hope. Feels like maybe it’s time to go be on your own. You know it’s dumb, but you haven’t got much to live for now that he’s gone.

Late night, you crawl into the comfort of misery, chaining yourself to each painful memory; you cannot leave a single shard behind. Not one.

You will carry this with you for the rest of your days.

Somewhere along the line, dark fades to light and your mind goes blank for the first time in an eternity as you get up to follow that same routine.

Today, same as yesterday, and yesterday's yesterday, and yesterday's yesterday's yesterday, etc., etc., your partner is Ellie.

Maria seems to think the two of you are acquaintances, especially since the extroverted people around your age hadn't been able to drag much more than a few words out of you, but you don’t really talk, you stay out of each other’s ways.

You struggle to keep the smile up against the pushback of your aching cheeks when you’re talking to other people. Can never let them see.

Not even for a good reason. God, it’s just such an effort to talk about. It’s better for it to just nestle in your mind, where it’s made it’s home, where it’s comfortable.

Maybe part of why you stay out of each other’s ways is because you'd inadvertently come off as a dick during your first encounter, which would've been enough to push the already closed off Ellie to not interact with you at all. You weren't actually being rude though; she's hopefully figured that out at this point. She probably just got used to the interactions between you; silence dusted with passive aggressive remarks.

But, she doesn’t say much when you freak the fuck out if a clicker comes at you in a way that brings back memories. You’re grateful, regardless of her reason for doing so.

Perhaps it's the thought of leaving that is the spur to prick your sudden violence and, now, even you can tell you're getting worse. The feeling - it ensnares you like a bear trap when you see a clicker, so you fire frantically at its head. Blood splatters all over your front and you pull at the hem of your shirt to get a better look, mumbling, "Shit..." when you see the white fabric soaked through with the clicker's blood; cold water to the face.

Among the chaos, you must have turned on your foot weirdly, because your ankle feels like a stake has been stabbed right through it with each movement and you don’t know if you can walk.

Ellie finally manages to trace the sound of the gunshot to you after calling your name in worry for the past couple of minutes, running over to you. She pulls you around and looks over your jittery body for anything to worry about - brushes a thumb over the wet material, jerking it away before you can notice; you’re hyper aware, so you always manage to anyway - and then furrows her brows at you.

“Can you stop fucking around?”

You nod apologetically,

"Sorry. Feeling a bit out of it today..."

She sighs, still clearly angry, and turns away, "Let's go. We’re done here.”

You watch her figure retreat as you mount your horse with shaky footing. The ride back is a silent one. Once you reach the gates, you get off and pat the horse’s side. It has a name; you never cared to learn it. Maybe you knew you couldn’t stick around for long.

“Come on. Why are you just standing there?"

When your eyes meet hers, you feel utterly pathetic, but you don't have much of a choice.

“Can you… find, like, a stick? A big one...”

She stays quiet for a moment, seemingly thrown off by your question, so you're quick to add,

“I would do it but... I don't know, fuck, never mind...”

Ellie raises an eyebrow at you, her line of sight flicking down to your ankle as she takes note of your awkward stance and mutters with a sigh that makes you feel small, "Pain in the ass," before shaking her head.

"Yeah, it looks pretty bad," Ellie says after she crouches down and touches the wound, eliciting a pained wince (and a farewell to your last shred of dignity) from you.

She rises to her feet and brushes herself off as you wait for more of a response.

"Stick, right? You want a stick?"

You nod with a clenched jaw. She keeps looking down at you and the constant anticipation is starting to piss you off.

"No, you gonna ask for what you really need?" she says. "And drop the whole ‘tough guy’ act?"

You chuckle dryly, turning your eyes to the floor.

"You ever considered that maybe I actually am just a tough guy?"

“Ha ha,” she states in monotone, “Think you gave away the fact that you're not when you started crying over a twisted ankle," to which you raise an eyebrow at her.

“Uh, okay, nothing you just said was true, but, sure. Sure.”

“Yeah? Come over here and say that with some heart then, tough guy.”

You manage to take a few steps before falling.

"Yeah, that’s what I thought. Gonna need to be carried back," Ellie says.

“What about the big ass stick?”

“What is i-Fuck. Listen, even if that helps, which it won’t, you’d wreck your ankle even more and everyone’d be on my ass about it. So, quit talking and get over here," she says, reaching over to lift you off the floor.

You grimace jokingly, but Ellie doesn’t pick on the humorous nature of your words, “Oh. No piggyback?”

Ellie sighs, turning and crouching in front of you before you get on.

"I swear to god, you're infuriating," she sneers. "Now put your arms around my neck."

You’re acting slightly outside the confines of your silent, gloomy self again, and pretend to strangle her, “Since you asked so nicely.”

And you laugh at your own joke as you properly wrap your arms around her neck

"I'm glad you're having a good time; at least one of us is enjoying ourselves,” she grits out but you can hear the repressed smile in her voice.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.”

"Good. Now shut up and enjoy the ride." Ellie says before turning her gaze back to the front.

As the two of you make your way through the fairly empty paths of Jackson, Ellie remains silent, her expression unreadable.

You keep your eyes focused on her, the small puff of air that leaves her mouth with each step, and staying quiet as your chin finds itself resting casually upon her shoulder

After a few minutes of walking in silence, Ellie finally speaks up again. Her voice is so close, the warmth of her breath and heat.

“You got them girls off your ass yet?”

“Who? The ones that are trying to... befriend me?”

“Mhm, the ones that you’re kinda friends with.”

“Yeah, they quit trying.”

"Don’t blame you… I mean, I can understand, but don’t make it too obvious.”

“I’d rather not-“

“Right, it’s just- well, if you want to be alone, fine. I… can even… make sure those assholes don’t bother you, or whatever- but, not on patrol! Don’t go wandering around on your own like that ever again. It’s dumb."

“I know, I just got caught up in the moment. Sorry.”

"Good."

A heavy silence befalls the two of you as she trudges on.

"Why are you so damn heavy?" she eventually mutters.

You lift your head off her shoulder reflexively, aware of your weight pulling her down all of a sudden,

“Sorry.”

Ellie looks over her shoulder at you, her eyebrows knitted in unexpected concern,

“Hey… I was kidding.”

“Right… I knew that…”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever," she says. "Hm, look at that, we made it," gently patting your thigh before pushing the doors open. "Time to get off."

You slowly slide off her back, making sure to land on your good leg as you watch her search the area curiously in a waiting, one-footed stance.

She returns after a second, picking you up to place you on top of one of the quaint, makeshift hospital beds before she begins rummaging through the supplies. You watch her muscles flex and then, the sight of a woman you'd seen around captures your focus.

"What happened to her?" the woman asks, causing Ellie to lift her head, looking down at you.

"Twisted my ankle."

"Well, obviously," her tone is laced with sarcasm. "My question was how you twisted your ankle."

"Turned weird."

Your response earns you a bemused raise of her blonde eyebrows, "Alright, whatever," she says, pulling up a chair and sitting before you.

After a short, boring while, she lets go of your leg and looks up at you again,

"So, you got a sprain. I'm gonna have to wrap your ankle up, alright?"

A lock of her hair continuously pesters her as she begins carefully tending to your ankle, pulling fresh bandages taut around the injury.

"It's gonna stay sensitive for a few days," the woman states, "And you shouldn't walk on it for at least a week."

She places a hand upon Ellie's shoulder, pulling her out of the deep-end of her thoughts, and turning her away from you. A muffled, but aggressive, hushed conversation ensues between them as you glance around the room restlessly, only making out the irritated tone of Ellie's responses. It ends with her pinching her nose bridge and mumbling a, "Fine," and they're facing you again.

The woman gives the two of you a nod before exiting the room,

"You two be safe out there."

“Alright. I’ll take you home. Now, get on," she turns, arms out, backpack on her front, as she waits for you to get onto her back again.

The route to your place is short and quiet as night blankets the world, or what’s left of it. Before you know it, she's pushing open the door and setting you down on yet another tattered bed - your own.

You hiss at the contact your ankle makes with the bed, but Ellie seems unfazed, patting your thigh in the same way she did before, the way that made your stomach twist,

“You gonna be okay?”

You nod, though her deadpan tone doesn’t leave much room for the honest truth.

“Alright, well… I’ll get going, then.”

There’s a stark contrast in life between her coming and going; the constant rustling of the fabric of her coat and the sound of her heavy winter boots against your creaky floorboards, the sound of her sniffles and low voice, and the flurry of gusts of nippy winds whistling - all shut out with the cold of the outside once she closes the door behind her. Well, most of it.

Now, you’re left with the bite of cold air and the deafening silence that haunts you as you sit still upon your mattress with darkness cast over the room, seeming to melt everything together.

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suniix · 6 months

Text

05 | miyamura x reader

synopsis | baking with miyamura makes you realize something you’d rather not think about. an unexpected encounter in the school hallway brings up an old memory

word count | 2k+

note | so sorry for taking so long to update 💀 im not really in the fandom anymore but i don’t wanna abandon this fic.. also i wrote most of this awhile ago so sorry if you notice a style change, once im done with this fic everything is going to be rewritten. i had some formatting issues with this chap so if it seems like a chunk of the chapter is missing pls let me know 😭 ALSO IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST PLS SEND AN ASK!! REPLIES GET LOST IN MY NOTIFS EASILY SO I MIGHT NOT SEE IT!!

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“Wait, did we need baking soda or baking powder?” You ask while holding the two small boxes in each hand.

Miyamura peeks over your shoulder. “Baking powder.” He says while plucking the box from your hand.

It was early in the afternoon when Miyamura stopped by your home to drop off some cinnamon rolls. A few weeks have passed since the first day of school and it was common for him to stop by after school or during the weekends, occasionally bringing sweets with him. When you opened the door the first thing he noticed was flour all over your hands and face. He quickly noticed the messy kitchen behind you and asked what happened while struggling to hold back a chuckle.

You explained that it was your grandma’s birthday today and you wanted to bake a cake for her and have it ready by the time she got back. One small problem though— you had no idea how to bake a cake.

“Thanks again for helping me out, and sorry you had to waste your Saturday doing this for me.” You say while gently cracking an egg, letting the yolk fall into the mixing bowl. You peer inside, noticing an eggshell had fallen in. Grabbing a spoon you scoop it out.

“It’s not a bother, really.” Miyamura shrugs. “I didn’t have any plans for today, so I’m glad I have something to do.”

You watch as Miyamura expertly cracks an egg open with one hand, letting the yolk fall in without any eggshells. “How do you do it? Each time I crack it open an eggshell always falls in.”

Miyamura chuckles. “It’s just practice, watch.” He grabs another egg and taps the side of the bowl with some force. Then with both hands he opens up the egg and out falls the yolk. “Now you try.”

Grabbing the last egg, you tap the side of the bowl with the egg and get it to crack. Holding it over the bowl with one hand, you look to Miyamura for guidance.

“First, grab the egg with both hands.” He gently grabs your other hand and brings it up to the egg. His hands are warm, the kind of warm that reminds you of being under your favorite blanket on a cold night. “Make sure one thumb is on the left side of the crack while the other is on the right side.”

You nod, placing your thumbs on both sides. “Now you just gently pull the egg apart, slowly.” He says, letting go of your hands.

You nod once again, gently pulling the egg apart as the yolk slips out without any eggshells falling in. “I did it!” You cheer, turning to face Miyamura.

He’s already staring at you with a genuine smile on his face. You don’t know why, but it makes your heart skip a beat. “I always knew you could. Now, the next step is to..”

You don’t process what his next words are, you’re too busy wondering why lately your cheeks heat up around Miyamura and how any sweet gesture he does for you makes your heart beat a little too fast. It’s been happening too often and you’re not sure how to feel about it. You snap out of your thoughts when he turns on the mixer, the noise echoing throughout the kitchen.

“Pass me the sugar please.”

Passing the sugar to him, you watch as he slowly adds sugar into the mixing bowl. “While I’m doing this you can get the flour mixture ready.” Miyamura looks up at you and you nod, quickly turning around to prepare it.

Miyamura had already set the flour in a bowl, all you needed to do was add the baking powder and salt. Looking at the recipe on your phone, you couldn’t find the measurements anywhere.

“Uh, Miyamura?”

“Yea?”

“I can’t find the measurements.”

“What?” He sets down the sugar, walking over to you and leaning over your shoulder to see your phone’s screen. “It doesn’t say?”

You shake your head, scrolling all the way to the bottom to find nothing. “That’s odd, try adding two and a half teaspoons of baking powder and one fourth teaspoon of salt.” He says before walking back over to the mixer.

You silently repeat the measurements in your head, trying not to forget. After adding the baking powder and salt you mix it in then bring the bowl over to Miyamura. “Alright, what’s next?” You ask.

“Add the flour into the bowl.” He says while patting the side of the mixing bowl.

“Alright!” You lift the bowl, tilting it so a good amount of flour would fall into the mixing bowl.

“But make sure to do it slowly, or else!—”

It was too late, you poured the flour in too quickly, resulting in the flour puffing up in your face because of the mixer. You look up at Miyamura, making him burst out laughing.

As soon as your grandma arrived home you rushed towards her and brought her to the kitchen to show her what you (and Miyamura) had made. Her eyes twinkled in surprise. “Goodness! I can’t believe you remembered!” She said in awe, walking up to the counter and examining the cake.

“I made sure to leave sticky notes everywhere to make sure I wouldn’t forget today!”

Your grandma walked over to you and brought you close, hugging you tightly. You immediately hugged her back, relishing in the warm embrace. How long has it been since you’ve been hugged like this?

“Thank you so much Y/n.” She whispered to you before pulling away. She turned to look at Miyamura before pulling him into a hug that surprised him. “And thank you as well young man, I can only imagine how cooking with my grandkid went.” She chuckled, which prompted a ‘hey!’ from you in response.

Miyamura couldn’t help but laugh as well. “It wasn’t a bother at all, Y/n is my friend and I don’t mind helping them.”

Your grandma nodded. “You’re such a kind young man, I hope Y/n finds someone like you in the future.”

You found yourself silently agreeing with your grandma. While Miyamura appears quiet and gloomy, he is actually really kind and caring. He’s patient, that much is certain after he helped you bake a cake, and he doesn’t get frustrated at you when you forget the simplest of things. Yeah, you wouldn’t mind dating— wait.

Once you fully processed her comment you let out an awkward chuckle. “Come on now, let’s eat!”

There’s no way you just thought about dating him.

Monday came a lot quicker than you’d like.

Sunday was uneventful, apart from you constantly thinking about your grandma's words from the previous day.

Scratch that, Sunday was the day your perspective on Miyamura changed.

You hadn’t thought about it much before, but why would you? You were content with just being friends, it was the whole reason you decided to stay with your grandma! To make friends!

But your grandma’s words left you thinking. You were happy to be his friend, truly, but was it okay to want more? To want to have something that was more than just friends?

Hugging your pillow you quickly shake your head. No! No way! You refused. I don’t like him that way! I don’t! You argued, squeezing your pillow tightly as if it were the one confronting you about your feelings.

Those words were meant for you and you alone, for no one was accusing you of liking him. There was no one to convince but yourself. You let out a sigh as you loosened the grip on the pillow, asking yourself the dreaded question.

Do I like Miyamura?

The immediate answer you thought of was yes, but you paused. Why do you like Miyamura? Was it simply because your grandma brought it up and you felt the need to make her happy, to show her you were happy with him just so she could be happy for you?

You thought of the moments you shared with Miyamura and had your answer. No, this was not because of a silly comment your grandma made. Your feelings were always there, deep down. You just never realized you wanted more until you realized you could have more.

Now what to do with your newfound feelings.

Should I just cut him off completely and hope my feelings die? You contemplated for a second before quickly shaking your head. Simply thinking about cutting contact with him hurts your heart, so there’s no way you’d actually be able to go through with it. No, be mature about this! There’s no need to do that! Just.. pretend our feelings don’t exist!

Despite your plan, sleep didn’t come easy. You spent the whole night thinking about scenarios that could happen on Monday. Maybe you walk into school and Miyamura somehow figured out you liked him and stops being friends with you, maybe he suddenly announces he’s dating Hori, maybe—

You quickly stop yourself. There was no need to overthink this, Miyamura doesn’t even know you like him! This conflict is completely one sided which means there is nothing to worry about— yet.

Before you knew it, Monday morning came and you had gotten absolutely no sleep. You sluggishly put on your clothes, wanting nothing more than to just crawl back to bed, but school was waiting for you. Miyamura was waiting for you.

You quickly shake your head to get rid of your thoughts. Running down the stairs you quickly spot the clock on the wall and notice the time. You were currently a few minutes ahead of schedule so you slowed your pace, taking your time to put on your shoes.

Ok, since I’m early, maybe I can surprise Miyamura at his door this time! You smiled at the thought. He had always been kind enough to wait for you to walk to school together, it’ll be nice to surprise him this time. Thinking about his possible reaction made you giggle, but you quickly stopped yourself. If anyone else were in the room with you they’d think you’d gone mad for laughing for no reason.

Leaving your home you make sure the door is locked before heading out. The morning air is crisp, making you wish you were back in your bed. It’ll be worth it though, seeing the surprised look on Miyamura’s face—

No! You shake your head. Gotta snap out of it! You walk up the stairs to his apartment door, footsteps echoing against the walls. You’re so lost in thought, trying to get your mind off your feelings when you bump into something, or rather, someone. You immediately jump back, ready to apologize when a voice cuts you off.

“Y/n?”

His voice was a bit deeper than usual, but you’d recognize his voice anywhere. You look up to see Miyamura, a surprised look on his face. You take a moment to recollect yourself, clearing your throat and standing up straighter. “I woke up early so I thought I’d surprise you by picking you up this time! But jeez, you left so early I didn’t even make it to your door before you left.” You explained.

He chuckles in response. “Well you got me, I’m surprised.”

He gestures to the stairs. “Since you technically got here first, lead the way.”

You don’t argue, happily going down the stairs first while Miyamura followed close behind. Once the two of you are out on the street you walk side by side, your shoulders occasionally brushing against each other.

Time goes by so fast that you sometimes wish it’d slow down.

It feels as though just a few minutes ago you had arrived at school with Miyamura, but now the school day had reached its end. It was relatively boring, except for the part where you couldn’t seem to act normal around Miyamura. He asked you a couple of times if you were feeling okay, even brushing his hand against your forehead to check your temperature (which did not help you at all). If your friends noticed they didn’t comment on it and for that you were grateful.

Forget your earlier thought, you’re glad time passed quickly.

The sun was low, painting the empty hallways a golden color. You were walking alongside Hori, helping her carry some files to put away in the student council’s room. Your shoes squeaked with each step you took, but neither of you seemed to mind. The silence around you and Hori was no longer tense, in fact, it was quite peaceful. Hori seemed content, as though whatever was bothering her before was resolved. The doors to the student council room come into view when Hori breaks the silence.

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

You nod in response. “Of course! What is it?”

“Do you like Miyamura?”

The question catches you off guard, making you stop. Hori walks a few steps ahead before slowing her pace and stopping completely, keeping her back to you.

“What do you mean?” You’re not sure how else to respond. You had just barely found out you had feelings for Miyamura, so you’re not even sure if you’re ready for your friends to know yet.

She turned to face you. “You’ve been acting off today, and I don’t want to seem nosey, but.. I was just curious.”

You’re silent for a moment, still unsure as to how to respond. Hori takes that as an answer. “Listen, it’s okay if you—”

“I don’t.”

Hori shoots you a confused look. “You don’t?”

“I don’t.” You reaffirm, hoping she doesn’t notice the shake in your voice.

Hori simply stares at you before turning and continuing to walk. You let out a sigh of relief— you’re not sure if she bought your lie, but you’re at least happy she didn’t press you to tell the truth. You don’t think you’d be able to handle admitting it out loud.

Before Hori has the chance to open the door it slides open, revealing a guy with pink hair. “Oh, sorry.” His voice is so soft you almost don’t hear it as he steps aside for Hori to enter. She thanks him and enters the room to file away the papers and your eyes briefly meet his pink ones.

For a moment you remember something you’d thought you’d forgotten. Suddenly you’re six years old again, stretching out a hand to befriend a lonely boy.

Your eyes remain on his figure as he walks away, not noticing Hori was waiting for you to hand her the files until she taps your shoulder. “Oh! Sorry!” You hand her the files and she places them inside a cabinet before walking back out to the hallway with you.

“Hey Hori..”

“Mm?”

“Do you by any chance know the guy that was just in there?”

That question catches her attention and she looks at you confused before shrugging. “No, but I can probably find out.”

You shake your head. “No it’s alright, it’s just.. he seemed so familiar.”

thank you for reading till the end! :D

please send an ask to be added to the taglist

if your username is bolded then that means i can’t tag you!

taglist | @swtstrwbrri @anime-for-the-sleepless @nagiswifey1 @shojislady @dreamlessnight @ozalysss @en-vys @hoonobono @jkeluv @yannvi @riya-song @syyyy4ever @suyaaachin @obsessed-with-a-fictional-man @hiqhkey @xomingyu @emmytrezz @hertaqueen

#hori san to miyamura kun #horimiya #horimiya x reader #izumi miyamura #izumi miyamura x reader #miyamura x reader #[📝 sunni writes]

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words-of-wolf · 2 months

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Content warning: this post contains mentions of wolves hunting other animals, and some thoughts on the subject. Nothing I'd consider graphic, but I know it can be sensitive for some folks so I thought I'd warn beforehand!

Hhh, it's a bit hard to know where to start with getting back into writing about my experiences.

It's not that I don't have anything to say - it's the opposite! There's so much I'd like to share. I've always loved talking about my experiences... maybe a bit self-indulgent, but I like to think it can help other folks too, and I've gotten many interesting conversations out of it in the past, so no regrets!

Can't imagine I'll be posting big things like this frequently, but I'll happily answer questions and chat too. ^u^

So... right now, what I've decided I'd like to write about is some of the, I guess kinda fundamental aspects of my identity as a wolf therian.

It's interesting in a way, because there are so many wolves around - there's a lot of people to compare experiences against! I guess, if you have a rare kintype, or a kintype that's varied enough that your individual variation of it is rare (like dragons) - it might be hard to imagine that a wolf would struggle to find other people they relate to. But then, well: there's me.

I don't think anyone's nonhuman experiences are wrong. I don't think anyones' are "superior" either; it's just about who you are as an individual, what feels right and comfortable to you. I just wanted to get that across! Cause what I'd like to talk about does involve some comparison between my feelings and the things I've seen expressed by other wolf therians, and I wouldn't want it to be read as me saying my way of being as any better than anyone elses' (it's not).

During my time in the kin and therian communities (which, I first encountered over ten years ago now, but my activity has been very on-and-off since I reached adulthood) I've met so, so many wolf therians. It's... hmm, complicated for me, in a way? Because I felt very isolated, especially when I was younger, and I felt like wolf therians were supposed to be "my people". But really, I could count on both hands how many wolves I've met that I really related to on any level.

And the reason for that is the same now as it's always been: for a lot of wolf therians, being a wolf seems to be a kind of violent, bloodthirsty identity. The "predator" feeling is strong; there's some affinity for the thrill of the kill, the violence of it all.

That's not a bad thing. It's not wrong! But my experience has been... very different from that.

My perception of wolfhood isn't really "red in tooth and claw" like that. It's more... simple. Not peaceful really - life as a wolf is full of trials and strife - but the violence never felt defining for me. In terms of personal importance, the feelings of wanting to hunt, to fight, to bite and maim... I'd be lying if I said they were entirely absent, but they were always tertiary to things that seemed far more present and central.

I think a big part of that is... well, for context, I believe my wolf identity is linked to a past life. Yeah, stereotypical, I know! But it's genuinely what I experience; I do remember that life, or at least aspects of it. And those memories influence a lot of my experiences in my current life as a wolf-person.

The thing that strikes me most when I compare my own perspective on wolfhood to the ideas often expressed by other wolf therians, is that to me, hunting wasn't violence. It couldn't be violence.

Why? Because I just plain didn't realise that the deer and other animals we killed were living things.

There was no... room to even consider that idea. I didn't know that the deer I drove to exhaustion felt pain and terror, same as I did. I just knew I was hungry and it was food.

It's a strange thing to consider, isn't it? People talk a lot about "what makes us human". I don't think there's any one thing that does. But if I were to point to one of the most jarring, and one of the most utterly sacred parts of being human to me, it would be the ability to connect emotionally with other species.

Humans are not unique for doing that. And maybe there's some animals a wolf could come to see as an individual, in the way I would've seen another wolf. But a deer would never be that. Which contrasts strangely with me, now, as a human: where I can love pigs, and care about their welfare and treatment, but still enjoy some bacon or a porkchop. That can conflict, sometimes, yeah - but from a wolf perspective, that would be incomprehensible. At least, from my experiences it would be.

And if you remove the idea of violence from hunting, suddenly a wolf's life doesn't seem very violent at all. The act of hunting and killing prey animals felt no more violent to me, than when I cook up a steak for myself now. To someone, that would be violent, but to me it's just a steak - y'know? I know the steak comes from a cow, but that fact brings me neither grief nor pleasure. It's just kinda how the world is and I'm mostly okay with that.

The act of hunting was, I'd say, something I enjoyed as a wolf. I loved the chase. It was fun. Taking down prey could be scary; even a deer is dangerous when cornered and desperate. But the thing with nature is that it makes what you have to do to survive feel desirable: so risking my life for a meal felt thrilling, in a way, and a full belly afterwards was satisfying, and comforting, and a relief from the usual gnaw of hunger.

Hunting's only a small part of being a wolf, though. Even setting aside all the attempted hunts that fall through before you even get into a full sprint.

A lot of wolf life focuses on territory. In some places, it's a very intense, almost war-like conflict; constant, bloody, often fatal. Not always, though. It depends a lot on the intensity of the ecosystem you live in: a place with lots of prey attracts lots of wolves, who then compete for access. If the prey's more spread out, the wolves are more spread out too... and an area of land feels less worth dying for when you've got so many others to search.

Me and my pack were one of the latter varieties. Territorial conflicts were rare, for us; I don't recall any specifically. We patrolled, we marked our space. Territorial disputes were something I was aware of, I think - if I saw a trespasser I certainly would've acted with aggression - but it just wasn't a common occurrence.

So my experience of being a wolf didn't feel like it was defined by violence much. It didn't feel bloody and raw. I could see myself in the image of a wolf that snarls, maybe, but moreso I see myself in the image of the wolf that sleeps, or - perhaps most of all - the wolf that wanders.

And that's what existence as a wolf was, and is for me! It's wandering. It is the neverending search. Even when you find what you need, the relief can't last long - you need to move on soon, you need to seek again soon, because it won't be long before your empty belly's gnawing at your insides again. It wasn't ever a life of violence, it was a life of travel, for the good and the bad of it: for the new sights and new smells and new opportunities; for the exhaustion, the uncertainty, the sore paws and aching muscles.

And the restlessness. The need to keep moving. Keep going. Keep searching, always searching.

But, of course, that's still not the centre piece of the puzzle. Because that could only ever, of course, be the pack.

This is something I'll probably dedicate time to writing about all on its own, because I have such deep feelings about "the pack" as a concept, and also about my pack, who I lived for in my last life.

But I will say that all of my deepest, most vivid, and most impactful memories... they're not of the hunt, they're not about territory or conflict or hunger. What I remember most richly is the love I felt for my pack. It's a feeling I can't quite find it in me to explain; sometimes I wonder if the reason I identify as loveless in this life, is simply because no love I've ever felt as a human could compare to what I felt as a wolf.

I think there's a kind of synergy between the simple mind of a wolf, and the feelings a wolf experiences: in the quiet of an animal's mind, emotions seem so much stronger, so much more vivid somehow. I feel that even now, when I have a mental shift, and the logic and reason falls away - all that's left is emotion and physical senses, and they paint a picture so, so bright.

And those past life memories that I hold dearest, they have a similar quality to them... to curl up with my family after a long day of travel. Or listen to their happy snores as we all sleep off a full belly. And playing with the pups... I was a very fun wolf-uncle. And those pups were my joy, light of my whole life! <3

So... yeah. That's what being a wolf is to me.

It's not the only way to be a wolf. It's not the "right" was vs anyone else's "wrong". This is just what wolfhood is to me personally. Maybe other wolves will see something of themselves in this, maybe not! Either way, I appreciate the time you took to read my rambling. It feels nice to carve out a place in my life again where I can really talk about this stuff. c:

#therianthropy #wolf therian #wolfkin #past life #spiritual therian #spiritual kin #tw animal death

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icanseethefuture333 · 7 months

Note

and how to banish demons and trickster spirits?? 🥲 please help thank you

How to spiritually protect your home from unfamiliar entities 👻

When faced with paranormal activity, it can be scary for anyone! We start to question ourselves and feeling silly thinking: "Did I really just see that?! No, no, it my must be my imagination..." but you still can't shake the feeling something is there in your room.

How to decipher between a high or low vibrational entity

Every spirit takes form in a different shape and color. I am unsure what it means but I have seen just about each one. So I will be giving each one a name for it. A fair warning though to use your intuition because my interaction with each spirit could be different from yours. Always use caution.

The in-between:

This spirit is mainly gray and fuzzy but has a rainbow outline. Similar to a broken TV. I believe these spirits are going through a period of healing and transformation. They are more neutral with their approach but overall have good intentions.

Holier than thou:

This spirit looks pure white. It's just a plain white or almost milky translucent color, they are typically friendly. If they are white, but look like it's sparkling or shining, it is a low vibrational entity or demon trying to pose as a angel.

Peekaboo:

The ones that appear in the corner of your eye or when you feel a presence randomly pass by. This is the most famous type of spirit that everyone has said they have come across. They come as shadows and are quick on their feet. They are black in color and their origins I am unsure, but they haven't bothered me per say. They startle me though, so because of how they sneak around. I mainly believe that they are trickster spirits.

Fairy lights (also known as orbs):

Orbs of light are considered to be a manifestation of energy present in your home. I have interacted with this type of spirit the least. When I first began doing deity worship with Aphrodite, I would see pink orbs, and that is how I knew she was present when I prayed to her or asked her for guidance. I have also seen orbs when interacting with archangels.

Faders:

These spirits fade in and disappear once they get what they want. They usually appear with a message and then leave once they're done. They can be pretty lonely, so sometimes they just like your company. I went to a garden memorial once and I had a spirit follow me home just so they could spend time with me. They left after two days.

Angels:

I feel that most of the time my interaction with an angel was presented as a human. You ever had someone that just was really sweet and kind to you in when you were having a really rough day? Yeah I mean that. Those feel like angels to me. Archangels I view them as orbs.

Demons:

*cracks knuckles* the moment you've all been waiting for. Now these are masters of disguise. Demons present themselves as anything or anyone just to get closer to you. Whether that's a living human being, an attractive person in your dream who sexually arouses you (incubus/succubus), or a monster who keep causing you to have nightmares in your sleep. Their main desire is to suck your life source and take over your soul at your weakest moment or make you do malicious things that are out of your character.

The different types of demons:

Before we touch upon this topic, if you are someone who struggles with a mental health condition such as anxiety, PTSD, BPD, etc. Be aware that some of your symptoms could align with some of the things I will mention down below. You have to understand the difference of just being anxious/paranoid and genuinely having an encounter with an entity that's dangerous.

Creepers:

Creepers are literally what they are. They creep up on you quite randomly. They mostly appear in your dreams to scare you and cause you to have nightmares. In most cases, these ones are just annoying because they scare you out of your sleep, but the more severe ones can physically harm you. One time in middle school I had a nightmare of a demon wanting to attack me in my sleep and I woke up with scratches on my back that were bright red. Nobody else was there in my room that night to have left scratches on me like that. Anyone of any age can deal with creepers but it is most common for children to come across them.

Hitmen:

A hitman is usually a demon that was sent by someone who has given you the evil eye or decided to hex you or wish malicious things onto you. This is scary for most people to experience because you can't tell if you're going crazy or genuinely feel an attack on your peace of mind. A sign of a spiritual attack is when you are around someone and suddenly that person gives you a bad vibe, you start to feel physically ill or energetically drained. Intuitively, you should know when you feel unsettled by a negative entity.

Inner demons:

You guessed it. Demons that come from you. We all have our own inner demons that manifest from a place of pain, envy, anger, bitterness, or hatred. They are the ones who stick with us through our darkest times. Inner demons have a codependent relationship with us. It's almost as if being with a narcissist. Instead of helping you, they enjoy that you are helpless so they can stay with you longer. They conveniently appear or come around during severe periods of depression. Since it is a inner demon and not a hitman demon, you have to learn to forgive yourself for the manifestation of this entity, since it has come from you. Instead of fighting them or being angry with them, allow them to be set free. Wish healing for them as well, since it was not their fault they were born out of agony. They may come and go, but they should know their place from now on. For witches, these demons could be at your service for more baneful magick if anyone decides to fuck with you 🤫

How to deal with negative entities and banish them from your sacred space:

Ultimately, it comes down to being brave and asserting your dominace. Let these entities know that they cannot and will not fuck with you from this day on. When they know you are a pushover, they will just keep messing with you. Scare them like how they scare you. Here are some different methods you could use to banish these entities from your home.

Clean up your act 🧹:

Have you ever felt the strong urge to clean your house after being in a funk? That's right! Cleaning is one of the most popular ways of getting rid of low vibrational energy and to invite new energy into your home. I mean what's a witch without her broom right?

Mainly dusting, sweeping, mopping, wiping windows/mirrors, and vacuuming could be done for banishing negative energy/entities

You can chant while sweeping away from yourself, you can make this up on your own so it can be more fitting for you and you can memorize it more easily

Florida Water is considered one of the holy grails and can be bought at any local botanica or even online. It is a cologne that is famous for its magical properties and multi-purposes. You can pour Florida Water into the bucket of water that you use for mopping 🪣

Cleaning products that have magical ingredients (I.E: Lemon / lemon scent is a popular tool for spiritual cleansing)

Pillow sprays, febreeze, essential oils, or room deodorizers are a cheap and easy way to cleanse your home (Lavender pillow spray can be sprayed around your house and on your bed sheets or curtains for peace and tranquility. It is also a refreshing scent and helps you sleep better 😊!)

Boiling a concoction is another method you can use (ever wondered what was in those witches' cauldrons?). Most people boil bay leaves, rosemary leaves, or cinnamon

If you are pregnant or someone sensitive to chemicals or smells, you can use crushed eggshells or pour salt in the corners of your home, window sills, and doors🚪

Plants and crystals can be used as protection wards for your home. You can put them anywhere that you prefer.

Other popular methods for protection spells are spell jars, mojo bags (hoodoo, closed practice), enchanting a necklace or piece of jewelry to wear as a tailsman/amulet, or egg cleanse (common method in Latin American culture).

Team up:

There's nobody who will be down to protect you more than yourself than your spirit guides. Simply calling upon your ancestors (who wish you good intentions ofc), guardian angels, animal guide, or deity should be enough to protect you in moments of fear and feeling unsafe. Remember to show appreciate to them and give them offerings for their assistance. They cannot consistently be there for you if their energy source is low (especially ancestors!).

Remember that you are loved 🤍:

Experiencing the evil eye or a spiritual attack can be scary for just about anybody 🥺! Just remember that the situation is temporary and there is always going to people out there who love you and wish for your happiness (including your higher self). Paranormal activity is a weird but interesting thing many people in their lifetime have come across, so you don't have to feel alone. I hope this was of help to you and that you feel better about being able to protect yourself 😇

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sunnynwanda · 10 months

Text

A solution

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t my favourite nemesis.” Villain smirks, turning on the balls of their feet. “To what do I owe the honour?”

Hero shakes their head, leaning against the door frame. “To yourself, obviously. What’s up with the hypnotized mayor?”

“Hm? How would I know?” Villain shrugs nonchalantly, struggling to keep their hands straight at their sides. “You always assume it’s me that’s wreaking havoc. Why is that?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” They take a step towards Villain, their smile making the hair on the back of Villain’s neck stand. “Maybe 'cause it always is. Not to mention you’re the master of mind control here.”

“I can’t believe our Hero turned out to be so biased!” Villain exclaims, bringing their hands to their heart, ever so dramatic. “What about the presumption of innocence?”

Hero huffs, shaking their head yet again. “I stopped presuming you innocent after our fifteenth encounter in one week.”

“Huh. That was my best week.” Villain smiles fondly at the memories. “I was challenging myself, you see? To avoid the mundane.”

“Of course.” Hero shakes their head but can’t help a smirk that finds its way onto their face. “Who would think criminal life could be so boring.”

“It’s not boring!” Their voice is too high to be comfortable. Villain coughs, turning away. “And I’m not a criminal.”

Hero nods, watching the back of Villain’s head for a moment as their nemesis drinks water, swallowing a whole ice cube in the process. They gulp, watching it go down their throat when Villain turns to face them again.

“Come to think of it, I haven’t done anything with the mayor yet... how did you figure it out?” That would be a valid question if only Hero didn’t know both Villain and the mayor so well.

“That’s exactly how. The asshole can’t live a day without causing major problems.” They say matter-of-factly. Villain presses their fingers to their temples. Hero suspects it's an attempt to hide the blush creeping up their neck. “Figures it’s you.”

Villain hums in agitated agreement. They aren’t quite sure if they are annoyed or excited. Most likely both. “What is your mission then?”

“You.” Villain’s eyebrows rise, challenging every last boundary of their enemy’s restraint. “You are my mission.” With that, Hero pulls them forward, planting a starved kiss on their mouth once they open it in a gasp. Villain all but melts in their arms, not even registering how they end up sitting on a table.

“Told ya I’d deal with him,” is all they manage to squeeze out when Hero lets go of their mouth, dragging their lips to the side. Villain moves to meet them again.

“Mhm.” Hero keeps kissing along their jaw, prompting Villain to tilt their head for better access. They break away to take in the starstruck expression on Villain’s face with the most smug grin ever. "How long can you keep him that way?”

“You name it.” Villain can feel Hero’s smile against their throat. They shift, leaning back and searching for some support in the back but the wall is too far.

“Forever?” Hero thinks out loud, the word escaping against their better judgement. Their brain is preoccupied with Villain’s sensitive skin under their tongue. That is, until Villain stiffens and they regret bringing up the subject. They could have discussed this the next morning. At this point, Hero couldn’t care less about the mayor. They knew the city was safe as long as the man was under control.

“You want me to keep the mayor under my control forever?” Villain shuffles away from them and Hero wants to disintegrate into thin air. They opt to avoid eye contact, but Villain grabs the sides of their face, ever so gentle as they guide their eyes to meet. “Do you?”

“Does it exhaust you?” They ask in a small voice. Villain shakes their head no. They know for a fact that wasn’t their first concern. Is that too much to ask? or Would you do that for me? was what Hero dared not ask. Villain smiles softly, caressing Hero’s cheeks with their thumbs as they watch their shoulders relax. Hero lets out a relieved sigh, pulling Villain back into their embrace with a quiet growl. “Then yes. You could make him think he’s a potato for all I care, as long as he’s no longer running rampant in the city.”

“Anything for you, love.” Villain’s voice is barely a whisper against Hero’s lips. They feel a hand wrapping around their waist and the other running fingers through their hair to tilt their head to the side. Hero leaves a rough kiss on their throat, where they watched the ice cube going down. Villain gasps, their gaze dazed as they stare into Hero’s eyes. “Anything.”

Masterlist

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trashy-tries-writing · 1 year

Photo

Part 1: In which the first encounter of Ravine leaves unpleasant or pleasant memories for some of our CoD characters with John Price / Gaz Kyle Garrick / Simon Ghost Riley

Part 2: John Soap MacTavish / König

Part 3: with Phillip Graves / Alejandro Vargas & Rodolfo Rudy Parra

(Totally didn’t cloud his head because I can’t draw his customized helmet)

Warning: I know nothing about the military and stuff😭

If I wrote smt that the characters wouldn’t say, please correct me because I don’t know any slang from their nationalities either or point out any mistakes I have made. LET ME KNOW please! So I can fix them. 😰 I’m not a great writer, especially because I live under a rock so don’t expect too much. Feel free to bash me in the comments if I use a bad/forbidden word from your country, I swear I didn’t do it on purpose🙏💦

Let me know if Ravine passes as a xMale!Reader or a xMale!OC :’))

John Price

Price wanted to leave this hellish place as soon as possible

It was uncomfortably hot that he believed his flesh was oozing down his bones. No one knew what caused this overwhelming heat and the man wasn’t exactly ecstatic to find it out either with the scent of burned flesh hitting him hard on the nose.

Gradually the corpses of the enemy trope increased the deeper he went down the concealed facility. Price grimaces under his breath at the torched faces, skin tissues were burned off which showed the flesh underneath that was still bubbling and sizzling. The blackened chunks of flesh sitting on the ground continued to smolder while what leftover blood turns to steam as it spills from the wound.

Following his gut feeling, Price ends up in a corridor splattered with the blood of the victims he was supposed to spill. Including the objective of this mission, although the label wasn’t plastered on an unmoving, lifeless weapon that Price thought it would when Shepard sent him down in this hellhole.

“Bloody hell- Laswell, I… found the objective.”

The name was plastered on the door of the open cell with a human inside, sitting in front of a pile of corpses that looked like civilians. It- They- were motionless beside the immense heat reeking from its body which left more questions than answers for the bearded man.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Gaz believes Ravine to be a heartless machine.

He watched the masked man run past falling soldiers without wavering in his steps. No reaction as his teammates die before his eyes or struggle until their last breaths. Sees him leave the training room after finishing beating up everyone until exhaustion as they lay on the ground groaning.

Ravine doesn’t care about anything or anyone, and possibly not even himself. He takes orders after orders, sometimes requesting to solo it, as if a team would only drag him through the mud.

Gaz hears the whispers of hatred towards Ravine, how heartless and cold he is. How rude he is with how he answers with one word only. How unnerving it is to be in the room while he just stands there silently, not knowing where he is actually staring at through his helmet he never takes off.

Ravine doesn’t care about anything.

Gaz believed that Ravine was a heartless machine.

He saw Ravine running to the nearest corpse of their fallen brothers and sisters after the mission was done. The tall male scoops them up like broken glass, aloof at getting soiled or that there are special units to collect their bodies coming later. Ravine makes sure to leave no one behind and pile them together next to each other with their possessions as carefully as one could be, before paying his respects.

Gaz heard the heartless Ravine requesting to solo the missions when he deemed it to be too dangerous for the others as the higher ups know Ravine to be capable enough to do it on his own due to being different from any other existing soldiers, whatever that was supposed to mean.

Gaz noticed the soldier rushing back towards the training room with first aids, water, snacks and towels. He peeked inside to discover a relaxed atmosphere with the recruits chatting to each other tiredly, some drinking from their cup and gnawing on the energybar like hungry bears. They were sitting in a line and at the end was the cold Ravine giving them medical care.

The hateful whispers have turned into harmless jabs, whether it be about a new recruit being in trouble for something small as breaking a plate and pushing that soldier towards Ravine as if he was going to play alongside them.

His limited vocabulary was slowly picked up by them. Instead of saying “Yes”, some have started to respond with Ravine’s “Aye”s towards each other. Each time they couldn’t help grin when they see Ravine slouch even more than he already is from their jest.

“Fuck I’m hungry.” He hadn’t intended to say it so loudly, not that anyone was around to hear Gaz anyways. It was late and cold, he couldn’t wait to duck out and make something to eat and throw himself in bed.

But not even an hour later something warm touches his cheek from behind him and he jolts back in surprise from the warmth. He sees Ravine stepping back just as much, before hiding his body behind the corner, his upper part still sticking out with an arm stretched towards him with a bag.

“...Is that for me?”

“Aye.”

He slowly reaches towards the bag, a familiar smell reaching his nose. Gaz couldn’t help but smile when he opened the package with his favorite food and a thermos inside, his stomach growling loudly in urgency to take a bite.

Turning around to thank the man, his words are lost in his throat when the faceless soldier is nowhere to be seen.

Gaz believes that Ravine is a warm person who loves and cares in his own way.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Ghost had been sent off to capture someone from a hideout. It was supposed to be easy but missions always go astray. What else he didn’t account for was the soldier sent by his superior to wipe them all out on the opposite side of the building. This wouldn’t have been a problem if the soldiers knew of each other’s existences.

One of them needed the target alive, the other came for a massacre.

When they crossed paths, shots were fired and when all bullets were gone, knives were raised. While It didn’t matter who died first, it would not end well with either loss. Weren’t it for the chain of commands voice ringing through both of their coms, the machete would have gone through his arm.

Ravine as Ghost came to know, backed away from him and kept that distance throughout the whole operation. Now that he got the go to kill everyone, the lieutenant saw how efficient the other was. No hesitation, no stumbling, no waiting- Ghost let the silent man do what he wanted, out of curiosity what he could do.

The lieutenant started trusting the newcomer more when Ravine jumped behind him without flinching and threw his chained machete at the enemy targeting his back. With a pull the weapon was back into his hands and his head whipped around,Ghost could mentally hear the snap.

His helmet moved in sharp, short turns at the lieutenant until he realized he was eyeing him for injuries beside the ones he himself inflicted on him a few minutes ago.

“All good Ravine. Let’s move.”

Back at their headquarters, Ghost would find little trinkets in front of the room he was currently occupying with a note stuck on it “I am very sorry for almost murdering you.” He knew immediately who this was from, especially since his ‘murderer’ in question has avoided him like the pest.

At first he thought nothing of it besides not liking him very much which happens anywhere in the workspace. But it got out of hand when Ghost came into the kitchen to get some tea and Ravine straight out jumped out the window.

It was the second floor.

Price had sighed into his palm so loudly, his soul could be seen leaving him. “I corner him and I want you to talk to him. He’s letting the guilt eat him up and I can’t let that happen.”

The captain literally shooed the tall man like a cat into his office with Ghost and held him by the collar of his turtleneck to keep him from leaving. For once Ravine stood at his full height and the lieutenant had to tilt his head up.

“Bloody hell…”

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