#something something can’t escape your mother’s blood

[iocity]

ASL ‘Merica AU where Sabo feels guilty about involving his brothers in his conflicts with his biological parents. They are real bona fide assholes, and Sabo does not in any way want to reconnect with them, but they are PERSISTENT. With every yelled word bouncing off the walls of the brothers shared home, Sabo’s guilt grows. He stopped believing when they said they would change years ago, but he can’t seem to shake them off.

Sabo who doesn’t tell his brothers how he feels because they have their own problems, their own struggles that seem so much bigger than old parent problems. He is supposed to be strong. He is sure that in a house of people with “real” issues, his won’t matter.

Sabo who can’t help but get angry when he has to deal with his biological family, but not regular angry. It sticks for the whole day, onto the next, and that same feeling of guilt creeps up the back of his neck. He hates how his brothers seem to walk on eggshells around him when he is in his moods, but he can’t stand to pretend to be in a sunny mood he is not in (his brothers can tell anyway). He snaps because his parents are the knife in his side, and he is in pain.

Sabo who hates crying, because crying means his parents have won the nonexistent but constantly present battle between them. Crying means that they have made him weak again, made him helpless, made him remember what he used to be. Guilt is met with shame, and shame accompanied by sorrow and anger. His own reflection an overwhelming cacophony of everything he hates. His mother’s lips, his father’s eyes; his own genetics betray him. He feels his parents in him, and he braces himself as fear overtakes him; his hands grip the wall as he silences his breaths.

Sabo who holds his breath to exact his control, to break their hold over him. His breath can’t shake if he doesn’t let it out; his eyes can’t cry if his heart is trying to escape his chest. If he is in control he can be cold, calculated; he can give his parents what they deserve. What they gave to him. To him, it’s logic, it’s reason, and it’s strength.

Sabo who can’t help the jolt that runs through him when he feels arms around him, his chest heaving with warm air, the ache within him worsening. He has been pulled out of his control and into the warmth and unpredictability of his brothers’ arms. All at once he is melting, and it shows in the way his chest heaves into a sigh, then a sob, in the way that water flows down his cheeks until he is sure there is a puddle under him, and in the way that he reaches blindly for them through his tears. They are already there.

Sabo whose apologies fall on deaf ears, because they don’t give a damn about his parents (something they now make sure to tell him often), they give a damn about him.

Luffy who can’t help but cry too, because Sabo is not only his older brother, but his heart. Not by blood but by choice which, for him, means so much more. It’s only natural to cry when your heart hurts. He clings to Sabo, hoping to solidify his presence, because he is there. He isn’t a thought or a feeling, he isn’t fleeting. He is permanent. Heart to heart, warm and present. He doesn’t understand; he never cared much about things like his biological family. Despite that, he is shifting to his feet, making Sabo’s favorite snack consuming mind because his words often fail him but his hands rarely do. Food brings people together, right? He hopes Sabo is hungry, so they can eat together.

Ace whose clenched jaw, deep frown, and furrowed brows speak for him. ‘Why didn’t you tell us? Why did you do this alone?’ But he’ll nag later, because first and foremost he is the oldest brother. So for now Ace will hold his little brother while he cries and control the anger bubbling up within him, not only at Sabo’s parents, but at the world. He is unmoving even when Sabo has stilled from his crying, silent when Luffy wriggles out of their grip to grab snacks for them. As still and permanent as rock, letting Sabo lean on him until he finds the strength to walk on his own.

Sabo whose guilt and shame crashes against the corners of his mind, frustration rising because he is full of feelings he doesn’t recognize and therefore can’t control.

Sabo who is spiraling until a warm gas station honeybun is being shoved under his nose by forceful hands, ratty sandals being tucked aside as Luffy sits criss-cross in front of him with a plate of his own, Ace’s plate balancing on Luffy’s straw hat. A hand is on his neck as he rocks back and forth slowly, looking nervous.

“I don’t think it was supposed to be microwaved with the wrapper on y’all.”

“You’re shitting me.”

Sabo who hears Ace cursing about the house being rented and microplastics, and Luffy arguing back despite knowing he is in the wrong.

Sabo who laughs. In disbelief, in amusement, in insanity. He can’t tell anymore, but he feels the waves stilling in his mind, replaced with the sound of his brothers’ quarreling and his own laughter. Because they don’t give a damn about what he perceives to be weakness; he doesn’t need to feel ashamed.

Sabo who knows his life isn’t fixed and who knows he will have to talk to his brothers eventually, but who also loves his brothers and warm gas station honey buns. Sabo who feels at home in this familiar warmth.

“Man, I love you guys.”

Tags c|:D : @porschethemermaid

#can u guys tell what mood im in #just take a wild guess #(im visiting home) #hurt/comfort because we suffer in paradise #hurt/comfort #no beta we die like men #one piece #op #one piece luffy #one piece sabo #one piece ace #op luffy #luffy #monkey d. luffy #mugiwara no luffy #straw hat luffy #op ace #ace #fire fist ace #portgas d. ace #op sabo #sabo #revolutionary sabo #flame emperor sabo #ASLmerica AU iostyle #tw family issues #saboposting #luffyposting #aceposting #aslposting

[atopvisenyashill]

imagine you are baela targaryen and you want to name your daughter after your long dead mother. your husband lets you because it’s a suitable Velaryon name. the husband that you love because he acts like your dad is acting like your dad by fucking your niece, who is the same age as your grandson. he will carry on this affair until you are both dead.

you are elaena targaryen and the only freedom you’ve ever known is with your aunt’s husband who is older than your father. when they are all dead, you marry the grandson of your lover. you want to name your daughter laena, as a way of remembering baela & alyn and everything you all put each other through. your husband agrees because you’re both half Velaryon and he likes that you share this. you are not in love but you are happy. a war breaks out and he is murdered in front his mother. you have just suggested his niece marry a prince.

you are laena velaryon 2.0 and you marry a nice man around your age and have many children. your first born doesn’t marry for a long time but when he does, he makes a match with your cousin, who had an affair with your father that emotionally wrecked your mother. a war breaks out and you watch all of your sons die one by one except the very youngest, and they call this a mercy.

you are aelinor penrose and your husband refuses to consummate your marriage and you attempt to shame him for this. a lifetime ago, your auntie elaena told you a story about her sister who did the same thing, and it got her locked up for years, but your smart, savvy auntie elaena tells your husband he can live his life as he pleases without destroying his wife, and you think of the way your auntie elaena and grandma laena can’t even look at each other anymore, and you figure maybe you got lucky.

#you are laena penrose and you are sweating bullets rn #something something can’t escape your mother’s blood #baela targaryen #elaena targaryen #laena penrose #laena velaryon #ronnel penrose #aelinor penrose #but also. family tree like a christmas wreath aksjdjdjjd these people are so inbred. #getting on my soap box #rani attempts meta #IM SORRY I CANR STOP THINKING ABOUT IT #like imagine being elaena and proposing this match as some sort of. personal atonement for blowing up your aunt’s marriage. #and then the penroses are targeted in the war BECAUSE of this match she proposes. #can you imagine. how could laena and elaena ever look each other in the eye again. #the grief would be never ending #insurmountable.

[luvjunie]

— trust who?

pairing: e-42!miles x 1610!fem!reader

contains: angst, mentions of death, yandere?miles

summary: you were taken from him a year ago, and now it seems the universe has given him a chance to do things differently— and this time, he’s not letting you go. no matter what. wc: 1,648

a/n: i got a lil carried away w this one won’t lie, lol. i love this song, and i put a little twist on it to match the plot. song lyrics are in small, bold italics

🎧: Not You Too - drake (ft. chris brown)

“trust- trust who? trust me and i can set you free. left your man came straight to me you the real mvp, my love.“

dimmed hues of red lights spotted your vision as you came to, eyelids heavy as they peeled apart to reveal the room you assumed would be the setting of your demise. your head snapped up when you finally regained consciousness completely, fright-riddled eyes darting around to scout out an escape plan. but just as you went to move, you heard chains clink from above as your body swayed, and realized you couldn’t. you looked down to find your legs bound by rope, as well as your hands, as well as the rest of your body to a firm, stuffed sack.

feet dangling from the ground, you let your head fall back against the punching bag, defeated, and settled for your only remaining option. “help!” you yelled, voice rasped and weak. “help!” you tried again.

“don’t bother, can’t hear a thing down here.”

an artificial, robotic voice sounded from above, warranting your eyes to meet a masked man who resided on a high beam, crouched in place, watching you. how long had he been there?

he jumped down, catching himself and effortlessly hanging from one arm before his sneakers met the steel floor. they were untied, you noticed.

fear permeated your entire being as he strolled over to you, a semblance of uneasiness coursing through your veins, pumping into your blood and rendering your spine straight as the ominous figure stopped just in front of you.

“ple—please, i don’t know why i’m here,” the words tumbled out in a broken heap of suffocated, stifled sobs as tears welled in your eyes.

“shh, it’s okay,” he shushed you, a hand reaching out to gently pinch your chin, lifting your head back up after it’d fallen. his touch was delicate, like he was scared he’d break you.

“i’m not gonna hurt you, mi vida. i’d never hurt you… you know that.” the voice distorter cut out, your breath catching in your throat and your eyes fluttering over every inch of this strange mask. it reminded you of a ventilation mask you’d seen in miles’ room once, a mask used to protect your lungs from the fumes of spray paint.

as if your mind were working against you, you found yourself… calmer than you were just a few seconds ago, and even more confused. why did the voice sound so familiar?

something wasn’t right.

“who— who are you?” you gulped.

“you don’t remember me?” the shield over his face pulled back, the quiet sound of mechanical whirring as it revealed his face drowned out by the heavy thrumming of your heart in your ear drums.

here stood your boyfriend in front of you, the same features, but… different. his entire demeanor had shifted since you had last seen him just prior to whatever time it was now, to something sinister. his hair was longer, pulled back and braided. an accent, almost resemblant of his mother’s lingered on the tip of his tongue, dripping within the words he spoke. his face was harder, etched and carved like the weight of the world had chipped at it piece by piece, only to settle on his shoulders, leaving him with no time for himself.

this couldn’t be right.

“miles?” you choked out, mouth gaping to find your voice. “w-why… what am I—you’re, you… but different? what is this? where am i?”

a puff of air shot through his nostrils, his best effort at a laugh as a small, smile lifted the corner of his lips, braids gliding over his shoulders when his head tilted to the side.

“you came back to me, mi amor. and god…you’re even more beautiful than i remembered.” he breathed, eyes flickering with sorrow for just a moment as they studied your face, a moment that was almost too brief for you to catch.

when he’d encountered you and his counterpart on the roof with his uncle, he swore his prayers had been answered. somehow, someway you’d been brought back to him— the pain of witnessing the bullet that pierced through your chest that fateful night just a year ago drifted from his mind, and replaced itself with the all consuming, peaceful, sleeping image of you the minute he’d picked you up and cradled you in his arms. it pained him to inject you with the needle to sedate you, but he had no other choice, he could never truly hurt you. no, he would never do that.

“i missed you so much.”

“first time in a long time hurtin' deeply inside”

the hand sporting his mechanical gauntlet lifted towards you, fingers bending so the claws wouldn’t scrape your skin as he let the cold metal brush against the swell of your cheek. the sound of the steel joints ticking made you flinch, chest stuttering for breaths you couldn’t keep within your overworked lungs as you turned away from him.

you looked at him with so much fear in your eyes, when all he’s ever wanted to do was keep you safe, to protect you, to make you feel comforted and secure. and he failed at that before, he knows that, but he’s ready this time. he’d been given a second chance, and he’d be damned if he let you slip through his fingers again.

“it’s me, hermosa… it’s okay, you know me. just trust me, and i can set you free, and then we can be together. just like old times.” his brows furrowed, his tone one of sincerity as he assured you, but it did nothing for your racing heart.

“trust—“ you sputtered, voice wavering when you spoke. “trust who? you? how can i when you have me tied up like this?!” you balked, your bewilderment such a stark contrast from his bleak, seemingly unmoving disposition.

“yeah… i’m real sorry ‘bout that. uncle aaron made me, so i tried not to make ‘em too tight. you know something like this would never, ever be my idea.”

you shook your head, was this some kind of sick joke? why wasn’t he understanding a single word that was coming from your mouth?

you grew frustrated, time was not on your side, and honestly you were getting tired of this game.

“i don’t know anything about you, i don’t even know who you are. you might have his face, and—and his body,” you looked him up and down. “but you… you are not my miles.”

he felt a pang in his chest, the words you uttered, the way you said ‘my miles’, as if he wasn’t right here, as if he wasn’t right in front of you. the version of himself he’d buried in the ground with you just last year wanted to jump out and yell at you, plead with you, anything to make you see he could be just like your miles, because he was your miles.

“oh,” he pulled the skin of his cheek between his teeth as he turned away with an agitated nod, extending his arm out to point towards your miles, who was still unconscious, chin dropped to his chest as he hung from another punching bag.

“him?” his voice raised in volume and broke apart with desperation, a humorless chuckle unintentionally escaping his trembling lips. “what’s the difference? huh? tell me.” he demanded, nostrils flaring as he tried to maintain his composure, staring deep into the eyes of the girl who would’ve burned the whole world down with him if he asked. the girl who was in his grasp, right in this moment, yet still so far from his reach— reserved for the one who had everything that belonged to him.

your head whipped to where he pointed, and the moment your eyes landed on your boyfriend your blood ran cold, a pained gasp rippling your chest. “miles! oh god, please!” you called out for him as you struggled against your restraints, his counterpart interrupting you by blocking your line of your view with his body.

“cálmate,” he hummed, “he’s fine, just unconscious. i’m not cruel. is that how you remember me, mamí?” he questioned, voice bleeding with hurt.

your gaze drifted over to your miles again, hope swelling within you when you heard him groan.

“no, no, princesa. don’t look at him, look at me.” he urged.

he didn’t understand. you always used to say you would love him in every universe, that you’d find him in every lifetime, what happened to that?

“please, we need to get home, if we don’t… he won’t be able to save his father, he—he’ll die. you have to understand.” you pleaded, the tears finally bubbling over your waterline, streamlining down your cheeks.

“you are home! it’s me, mi amor, i’m right here. what about everything we went through?” he asked tenderly, voice full of hurt and eyes still soaking in the slight difference in your features. he was too distracted by the fact that the girl he thought he’d never see again, was right here in front of him to even try and comprehend what you were trying to say. “please, don’t cry. you know i hate seeing you cry.”

nothing else seemed to be working, so you settled for empathizing with him. he was still miles, after all, different universe or not, he was still the same person deep down. and from the way he was looking at you, love flowing from the eyes that held so much anguish within them, you knew some version of you had loved him, too. in the same way you loved your own.

“look, i’m sure i-“ you stopped to correct yourself, “she, loved you, but i’m not her. i’m not from here, and i’m sorry she’s gone, and i’m sorry you have to live with this pain, but, please… you have to let me go.” your tone was forbearing, words teetering off into a hushed plea, your lingering apprehension threatening to tear through the seam of your heartfelt spiel.

“let you go?”

you nodded tentatively.

he moved closer to you, to unbound you from this elevated prison, you assumed. because maybe, just maybe you’d managed to get through to him.

but this wasn’t your universe, and this… this was not your miles.

for the first time in your entirety of knowing miles morales, you felt your heart stop— and not in the way that brought a flurry of warmed, passioned butterflies to flutter within you— but in a way that invited his words to settle like ice in your bones, allowed panic and dread to inhabit your senses, clutching you in a selfish grasp of resentment that had no intentions of letting you go— you realized, as this time, his gloveless hand swiped away yet another tear you hadn’t even noticed you’d shed.

“why would i do that?”

“I've given you enough time. hurtin' deeply inside.“

- please do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my works to other platforms!

likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated 💗

©luvjunie 2023

#junie’s works ᥫ᭡ #across the spiderverse #miles g morales #miles morales fanfiction #miles morales prowler #earth 42 miles morales #miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x reader #miles morales x you #42 miles morales #prowler miles fanfic #miles morales angst

[cherienymphe]

Teenage Dirtbag IV (JJ Maybank x Reader x Rafe Cameron)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, abusive relationship, domestic violence, violence (+ gun violence), gun kink, dacryphilia, attempted murder, mentions of blood, public sex, jealousy, manipulation, infidelity, underage drinking, drug use, canon ages, kook!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

➥ series masterlist

summary: You’re charmingly spoiled. You’re too kind for your own good. You’re the princess of Figure 8 …and you’re way out of JJ Maybank’s league, but when he realizes that Rafe Cameron’s pride and joy is actually a bruised and battered damsel, he’s determined to save you.

Your rescue just comes with a price.

🎄 ༺𝓜𝓮𝓻𝓻𝔂༻༺𝓒𝓱𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓶𝓪𝓼༻🎄

~

“Oh! Well, aren’t those pretty?”

Your mother’s voice pulled your attention away from the flowers in front of you, throwing her a small smile as she neared you to admire them. You gave her the card when she eyed it, and you watched her smile grow, a fond chuckle escaping her.

“That’s sweet,” she praised. “Is Rafe coming by later?”

It seemed like such a silly question because you and Rafe saw each other almost every day, and your mother knew it.

“Yeah,” you sighed, sitting at the island and fingering a red petal. “He’s doing something for Ward, but he’s coming straight over when he’s done.”

She hummed, and you heard her fussing around in the drawers looking for something. Your gaze was glued to a rose, noting that Rafe got you red this time—your favorite—and you swallowed. It was always the same. Rafe would hurt you so bad that he felt compelled to make it up to you, the flowers would be delivered to your doorstep, your parents would gush, and you’d forgive him with a smile…and then the cycle would repeat.

You plucked a petal, rolling and squashing it between your fingers.

“It’s about time he starts getting prepped on all the family business, isn’t it?”

You glanced up as she took out a pan, her gaze briefly meeting yours.

“Yeah, I guess so. Ward has been asking him to do more things lately, and I know it’s usually work related, so…” you shrugged. “Only a matter of time.”

She seemed satisfied with that answer.

“Good,” she firmly said with a nod. “He can’t provide for you on daddy’s money forever.”

She chuckled to herself, but you could only swallow down bile.

“Rafe is upstanding and all of those things we want for you, but he needs to learn to make money on his own. We’ll never give him our blessing otherwise.”

Again, you said nothing, only looking at the stains on your fingers. Your entire volatile future being mapped out for you should’ve scared you beyond reason, and it sometimes it did, but in this moment, you only felt a numbness that was all too familiar. It all just felt so inevitable, so you didn’t see any sense in fighting it. With a sigh, you stood.

“I’m going to take these up to my room.”

“Put them on the table by your window, so they can get good sunlight,” she threw over her shoulder.

After doing what your mother advised, you turned to your mirror, intently staring at the face in the reflection. The fading bruise on your cheek was nowhere to be found under your makeup, and you were relieved that the same could be said for your neck. A deep inhale had your stomach aching only a tad, and you told yourself that Epsom salt baths could only do so much.

You rolled your eyes, lips pursing at the thought of JJ Maybank.

Naturally, you knew that this wasn’t really his fault. If Rafe were a normal boyfriend, you wouldn’t be covering up bruises with makeup and long-sleeved shirts in the house you’d rather not wear. You knew that Rafe didn’t actually need a reason and that no one could push him to do anything he didn’t want to do. Rafe was never the kind of guy to do anything he didn’t want to do. However, with all of that being said…

You really didn’t like JJ Maybank.

Some part of you knew that Rafe must have provoked him. You knew your boyfriend well, so you knew that without a doubt, but none of that changed the fact that you still had ugly discoloration from where Rafe had pushed you into his dresser. None of that changed the fact that JJ was the catalyst. Yeah, you probably shouldn’t have talked to him anyway, but you’d only been trying to be nice.

Trying to do the right thing.

You were pulled from your thoughts by the sound of the doorbell, and knowing that Rafe never rang it, you didn’t give it much thought. At least until you heard your mother calling your name moments later, and you were forced to descend the stairs in confusion. That confusion wasn’t eased in the slightest when you came face to face with Sarah.

She looked sheepish while your mother only smiled.

“Sarah’s here for you. I offered her something to eat, but she’s insistent that she isn’t staying long,” your mother said, briefly touching the other girl’s arm. “You tell Rose to call me. I have a bone to pick with her.”

They both chuckled—obvious that your mother was teasing—and you watched her disappear into the kitchen before resting your gaze on the blonde before you.

“I’m going to get something to eat at The Wreck. You want to come with me?”

You swallowed a sigh, glancing away and folding your arms over your chest. You didn’t know where this desire for a budding friendship came from, and you didn’t know how to feel about it. You and Sarah had only ever been friendly, and considering the company she kept, you’d had no desire for anything more. Being friends with Sarah just felt like a recipe for disaster.

“Sarah…”

She spoke up before you could, huffing and stepping towards you.

“I think Rafe treats you like shit,” she admitted, making sure her voice didn’t carry. “I know you love him and see something in him the rest of us don’t, but everything about you just seems wrapped up in him and…he seems very happy to keep things that way.”

You pressed your lips together, eyeing her.

“I don’t like it, and considering I don’t have much say, I figure the best I can do is be your friend. It’ll just make me feel better to know you have someone other than Rafe.”

Her lips turned up as she said his name, crossing her own arms over her chest.

“I’ve thought this for a while, by the way, and I just…” she shifted her feet, shrugging. “I don’t know. I just can’t take it anymore.”

With a sigh, you dropped your arms, and you knew that Sarah could tell what you were going to say.

“Come on! It’s lunch at The Wreck. We won’t be going all the way to Charlotte—Rafe will know where you are. He’s caught up with our dad, anyway, and they’re probably not going to be done until this evening,” she practically pleaded.

It was tempting, you had to admit, even if it did make you feel a little pathetic.

“I don’t know. I’d have to call Rafe and-.”

“You’d have to call Rafe, are you serious?” she scoffed before reaching for her own phone, and you reached for her. “I’m calling him.”

Your eyes widened.

“Sarah…”

Rafe’s tone could be heard even through the phone when he answered, and you felt your heart race.

“I wanna go to lunch with your girlfriend, and since you’re so uptight about knowing where she is at all times and who she’s with…”

The other girl trailed off as he spoke.

“Rafe, you’re stuck with dad for most of the day! I want to go eat, and I want her to come with me… Yes, just me,” she threw you a look at that to which you only looked away. “God, you’re so crazy, you literally treat her like a damn puppy.”

She shoved the phone at you, and understanding what was happening, you sighed.

“Hey,” you softly said once her phone was to your ear. “She just showed up here, Rafe and…”

“She said it’s going to be the two of you.”

You could tell by his tone that he wasn’t thrilled, right now, but you also knew it wasn’t just from Sarah and her antics. Rafe felt cornered. It wouldn’t look good for him to forbid you from going, and if he convinced you to give Sarah some piss poor excuse, she’d likely just ignore it. There wasn’t much you and Rafe agreed on, but you did admit that Sarah Cameron often got her way.

You heard Rafe mutter under his breath, and you didn’t doubt he was cursing Sarah’s name.

“I don’t see why she’s hellbent on butting into your life all of a sudden…”

His tone didn’t make you enthusiastic, and when your eyes met Sarah’s, they looked hopeful. You didn’t really understand why Sarah was taking so much interest in befriending you. You heard her reasoning, of course, but this was new territory, and you didn’t know how to handle it. However, you decided that it didn’t matter. Your boyfriend’s sister wanted to have lunch with you, and if it would satisfy her then so be it.

Pulling your lip between your teeth, you told Rafe something you knew he’d like to hear.

“While I have you, I wanted to thank you for the flowers.”

You heard him exhale, and you didn’t need to be with him to know the look on his face. It was the look he often wore whenever he brought you flowers—a mix of smugness and triumph with that small smirk dancing along his lips. Rafe cared about being seen as the perfect boyfriend, but he also cared about your complicity just as much. If he could placate you after a really bad fight, then he could prevent the rare backlash.

The last time you’d threatened to leave Rafe after one of the worser fights was half a year ago. The bouquet he’d given you then hadn’t meant all that much to you when you threw them on the floor. It hadn’t ended the way you wanted to but instead in tears and Rafe convincing you that you were just upset and needed to cool down. He liked to avoid that if he could.

“I wasn’t expecting red, and I was just really happy to see that. It made me feel a lot better,” you told him.

Rafe was silent for a few moments before sighing, albeit with an annoyed lilt. Your gaze met Sarah’s again just as he spoke.

“Just for a little bit. Not too long because I could finish up early with my dad, so…”

“No, yeah, we won’t be long,” you assured him. “It’s just going to be me and Sarah.”

“Yeah, that’s what she said. Let’s hope it stays that way,” he told you.

His tone was clipped, and although he didn’t say it, you knew that there was a silent addition to that statement.

For your sake.

With a nod and a soft goodbye, you gave Sarah her phone back. Her face was expectant, and when you told her you needed to get your jacket, she beamed.

Sarah had a pout on her face as she played with one of her fries, shaking her head.

“I just don’t get it,” she mumbled. “What do you see in him?”

The drive to The Wreck was far from long and had mostly been filled with awkward small talk. You couldn’t recall a time you’d ever been alone with Sarah for this long, let alone long enough to have several conversations. It was such an odd thought considering you’d been dating Rafe for two years. The more the minutes went by though, the easier the conversation seemed to flow.

However, you now found yourself in the middle of lunch and on a topic you felt was inevitable, to be honest.

Sarah’s gaze was questioning, and you struggled to come up with an acceptable answer. You couldn’t very well tell her that her brother was actually an abusive rapist who terrified you beyond belief. You couldn’t tell her that he’d threatened to kill you on several occasions. It wasn’t possible to tell her that, in truth, you saw nothing worthwhile in Rafe, and you’d merely accepted your future with him.

Instead, you managed to think back to the very beginning of your relationship when you actually loved him.

“He knows what he wants, and I like that…”

It was a trait you’d admired in him once, feeling flattered by how boldly he’d asked you out. Those were the days when you looked forward to seeing Rafe and whatever gift he had for you and whatever date he had planned. That was a time when you’d literally fall asleep on the phone with him, and these days you would be relieved if you could go several hours without even hearing his voice.

“He’s also very generous, and he looks out for me, and he loves being around me. He’s just…so happy when we’re together.”

Everything that came out of your mouth was no longer applicable to your boyfriend, but at one point in time it had been. Without realizing it, your face fell, and you picked at your food. Sarah had a thoughtful look on her face as she mulled over your words before taking a sip of her lemonade.

“Looks out for you,” she repeated. “I guess that’s one way of putting it.”

You threw her a look, and she merely shrugged, throwing her hands up.

“I’m just saying! He treats you like he doesn’t want anybody to come near you,” she said, disgusted. “His own sister wants to hang out with you, and you needed to call him for that? That doesn’t sound crazy to you?”

The frown on her face was deep, and you only shrugged.

“You know what he’s like Sarah. You know how…paranoid he can get.”

“Yeah, paranoid that you might actually prefer being in someone else’s company instead,” she scoffed.

You merely sent her a small smile, thinking that she had no idea of the half of it. Before the conversation could continue, two familiar faces walked into the restaurant, and you felt your heart sink. Sarah seemed excited to see her friends, of course, while you, on the other hand, only had an aching desire to leave.

When your eyes met a slowly increasingly familiar blue pair, you couldn’t stop your frown.

You glanced away, and when Pope greeted you, you only sent him a smile in return. Telling yourself that you had the worst luck, you leaned over to reach for your purse. Sarah was talking to the two of them, but when she heard the sound of your keys, the conversation paused.

“I think I should go,” you answered the silent question on her face.

You hated the way it fell.

“We haven’t even been here an hour. Do…?” she trailed off glancing at Pope and JJ. “I know that it’s supposed to be just the two of us, but Rafe won’t know.”

“Sarah,” your tone said it all, and she stood up with you when you went to pay for your food.

“Stay,” she practically begged. “Rafe isn’t here to be his normal asshole self, and you know I won’t tell.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” you mumbled, craning your neck for either Mr. or Mrs. Carrera.

By the sound of her sigh, you had a feeling she’d witnessed JJ’s conversation with Rafe that day in their house.

“JJ didn’t mean much by that. He was just stooping to Rafe’s level, wanted to piss him off.”

“Well, you can tell him it worked,” you said, throwing her a tight smile.

Her brows drew together, and she ran her eyes over you, concerned.

“What, was Rafe mad at you for that?”

“What do you think, Sarah?” you slowly wondered, fully facing her.

You could see on her face that she hadn’t considered that possibility, and her shoulders sagged.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I’m sure JJ wouldn’t have said anything if he’d known it was going to come back on you. I’ll talk to him, just please stay.”

You touched your forehead, glancing over her shoulder and quickly looking away when your eyes met the man in question’s.

“They’re your friends, not mine. I really should go…”

She perked up.

“Well, they don’t have to just be my friends-.”

“No, Sarah. I can’t be friends with them-.”

“Why, because of Rafe?” she incredulously wondered. “Do you hear how crazy that sounds?”

You ignored her when the familiar woman came from the back, quickly paying for your meals. When you were done, you only gave Sarah an even look, grabbing your purse.

“You know what your brother is like. Pope can take you home, right?”

You could see on her face that she wanted to argue this some more, a deep frown on her face, but you witnessed the decision to save it for another time. You weren’t stupid enough to think she was going to let this go. She eyed you.

“We’re probably going to John B.’s later, so yeah. I can leave with them.”

Preferring to ignore her mood, you smiled and thanked her for the invite. You said goodbye to Pope and JJ on your way out, thinking of just how shitty your luck was. You’d never put it past Rafe to drop in on you, and you didn’t want to imagine how things would be if he witnessed you having lunch with anyone other than Sarah…but especially Pope and JJ. You were just at your car when you heard hurried footsteps behind you, and you tensed at the sound of your name.

Unfortunately, the face matched the voice when you turned around.

JJ wasn’t close to you, but he was close enough to where you leaned against your car in an effort to put space between you. If he noticed, he said nothing, and you watched him run his hand through his blond locks. You didn’t know what he wanted and considering the last result of a conversation with him, you warily eyed him.

“Look, Sarah told me that Rafe was mad at you about what I said,” he sounded apologetic. “I didn’t know that.”

“Why? You knew it would piss him off. That’s why you said it.”

He frowned, glancing away.

“Yeah, but I didn’t think…”

“At the very best you knew it would cause conflict between us. Again…that’s why you said it,” you told him.

JJ stared at you, and you watched him blink, tilting his head.

“Do you ever wonder why you have a boyfriend who loses his shit anytime you even so much as look at another man?”

You scoffed.

“Don’t try to turn this around-!”

“I mean, it’s the truth. You felt bad, you apologized, and call me crazy, but I don’t think that’s something he should get mad at you for,” he casually said with a shrug.

“Well, it’s a good thing you don’t get paid to think.”

You watched his brows raise in shock at your words, a budding smile on his lips. JJ crossed his arms over his chest, eyeing you from head to toe, and you felt something twist in your gut at his perusal.

“Are you always this feisty or is that privilege just reserved for me?”

Rolling your eyes, you turned to open your door when he spoke again.

“Look, I’m sorry, alright? I mean that…”

You hesitated, your gaze focused on your window. You stared at his reflection in it.

“I won’t say anything next time. Ever again, actually.”

With a resigned sigh, you accepted his apology, opening your door.

“There won’t be a next time,” you told him, glancing at him as you slid inside. “We’re not friends, JJ, and we’ll never be. Stop talking to me, I mean it.”

Your words held conviction, but you felt like JJ didn’t take them seriously. He only eyed you, slowly nodding as you closed your door. Resisting the urge to glance at him again, you drove off, only feeling relief the closer you got to your house.

It was the middle of the night when you found yourself in the Camerons’ kitchen, getting something to drink because sleep was evading you. You knew that you couldn’t be gone for long, no telling when Rafe would notice the lack of body heat next to him. The rest of the house was asleep, and Sarah was with John B.

…and so that was why you were startled by the front door opening.

You could tell they were trying to be quiet, but hushed tones and the shuffle of feet was loud to anyone who was awake—you. Blinking, and filled with a mix of curiosity and concern, you made your way to the kitchen entrance. It was dark, but not dark enough to make the three figures hard to make out. When you turned on the light, Sarah actually jumped in shock.

You could tell that she hadn’t expected anyone to be up, but even as she approached you, it wasn’t her nor John B. you were focused on. The blond with them looked almost unrecognizable to you, and you sharply inhaled at the sight of him. He was barely able to stand—no matter how much he tried to—and you could only pull your eyes away when Sarah whispered your name.

“I’m just here to use our first aid kit,” she told you, trying to explain. “John B. doesn’t have shit at his house, and Kie’s parents are so anal about JJ—any of her friends besides me, really.”

Once you gathered your thoughts, you blinked at her, shaking your head.

“It’s your house, Sarah. You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” you assured her.

“I know, but I’d just really rather not wake anyone up…and it’s also not something I feel like explaining to anyone.”

She glanced over her shoulder, giving John B. a nod, and you watched him pull JJ towards the downstairs guest bathroom. Your lips parted, and you looked at Sarah again.

“Is he going to be okay?”

Sarah pressed her lips together, and when she rolled her eyes, you could see the irritation and anger on her features.

“He always is,” she snidely replied.

At your concerned and questioning look, her face fell some.

“It’s nothing he hasn’t dealt with before,” she finally admitted. “His dad…”

Sarah trailed off with a shrug, and you swallowed.

“Oh,” was all you said, your heart sinking. “I’d heard things, but…I didn’t know it was that bad.”

“I just don’t get why he doesn’t go live with John B. or something,” she mumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. “Just because Luke is family…”

She sneered the man’s name, and you felt your frown deepen.

“It’s probably not that simple.”

At the look she gave you, you hurried to continue.

“I just mean it’s probably not that black and white for JJ. No one likes staying anywhere that’s bad for them, but maybe there’s a sense of loyalty he can’t shake yet,” you explained. “If he left his house for good, he just might end up feeling guilty.”

Sarah thought that over, eyeing you in the process.

“Maybe. That doesn’t make it any easier to witness this time and time again,” she sighed.

You didn’t say anything to that, unsure of what to say. When she left to join John B. in assisting their friend, you weren’t keen on retreating to Rafe’s bedroom just yet. You weren’t some professional psychologist, but you didn’t need to be to know why the sight of JJ and the confirmation of his volatile home life affected you so much.

The sight of his bloody and bruised face was unfortunately reminiscent for you.

Your feet made the decision for you, grabbing another glass of water before rummaging in your purse for some painkillers. Sarah was in the hall when you walked around the corner, and she straightened at the sight of you. The bathroom door was cracked, but John B.’s voice carried as he talked to JJ.

“Here, give him these.”

She took the pills and water with a small smile, thanking you. The moment was interrupted by JJ’s tone.

“I can stand just fine,” he sighed. “Just give me a minute…”

John B.’s protest was clear, but you surmised that JJ waved him off, getting his way when the door swung open. The brunette was briefly thrown by the sight of you before acknowledging you, making his way outside. The sound of your name in the air got JJ’s attention, and you wondered just how out of it he’d been to only just now realize you were up.

“Here. Y/N brought these for you,” Sarah told him, voice stern as she demanded he take them.

Getting the hint that he wanted a moment to himself, Sarah took a step back.

“Make sure he takes those,” she told you before going to join her boyfriend.

Truthfully, Rafe was the last thing on your mind as you looked at JJ. Now that his face was clean, he didn’t look as bad, but the bruising and cut on his lip still made you frown. You and he were so far from friends, so standing in the hallway while he leaned one hand on the sink started to feel awkward. You were just about to remind him of the pills and leave when he spoke.

“It’s the middle of the night.”

The observation wasn’t the most astute, and you frowned in confusion. When he swung his head to face you, straightening with difficulty, you didn’t miss the way his blue eyes ran along your face.

“It’s the middle of the night,” he repeated. “…and your face is caked in makeup. Is that one of Rafe’s conditions? Remain perfect at all times?”

You pressed your lips together as he popped the painkillers, swallowing them down with the entire glass of water. You couldn’t very well tell him that you’d spent fifteen minutes covering the bruises on your cheek and neck before coming down on the off chance that you ran into a Cameron that wasn’t Rafe.

“I forgot to wash my face,” was your simple answer.

Your tone was light, unconvincing, and you could tell that JJ didn’t believe you. You didn’t know how, but something about the glint in his eye told you so.

“I’m sorry,” you finally said. “About your dad.”

The blond moved to lean against the doorjamb, staring at you.

“Don’t be. I’m used to it.”

“You shouldn’t be,” you argued.

“Yeah, well, we’re both used to a lot of things we shouldn’t be,” he said, making you bristle. “I should’ve known better. After all…I know what he’s like.”

You didn’t appreciate having your own words thrown back in your face, doubly so because JJ didn’t realize just how much it messed with you. It was funny. When you told him that about Rafe, it made sense to you. That was how you maneuvered around Rafe and so you just wanted JJ to learn to maneuver around him the same way if he wanted to avoid his temper.

Now, however, hearing him repeat that about his own father just made you feel…nauseated.

“That’s not an excuse-.”

“Isn’t it?” JJ wondered, moving closer.

He held your gaze, and the look in his eyes had you biting the inside of your cheek. You couldn’t stop your frown, nostrils flaring at the words he silently threw at you. He didn’t say them, but he didn’t need to.

“That’s different,” you argued.

JJ frowned, head tilted in confusion.

“How so? My dad’s an asshole, Rafe’s an asshole,” he drawled. “Now, Rafe may not be a physically abusive asshole, but walking on tippy toes around him just to navigate his shitty personality isn’t exactly healthy.”

You stumbled back when JJ took another step towards you, lips parting when he cut you off.

“You can’t even have lunch with his sister without the fear of some guy that isn’t Rafe crashing the date…because you know he would just fly off the handle.”

You swallowed down your anger and annoyance at how right he was, glancing away with a huff.

“You don’t know anything about my relationship.”

“I know enough,” he fired back with a smirk.

When your back grazed the wall, it was then that you realized just how close he was. The bruising on his face looked so much scarier this close, and your eyes traced the blood on his lip. Your heartbeat was uneven at his close proximity, and you pressed yourself further into the wall. JJ’s eyes flitted between your own, and when you swallowed, they zeroed in on the action, gaze lingering on your throat.

“I know that if I kissed you, right now…” you sharply inhaled at that. “You wouldn’t tell Rafe…and not because you don’t want to hurt him…”

You slapped his hand way when it reached for your chin.

“…but because you’re fucking terrified of him.”

You furiously blinked, struggling to respond to that.

“You’re an asshole,” was all you could muster up with a frown, voice trembling.

JJ only softly chuckled to himself, nodding.

“Assholes are your type, so that doesn’t sting the same coming from you.”

Pushing your way out from in between him and the wall, you stomped away. You refused to look at him when he thanked you for the drugs, fighting to ignore the goosebumps along your arms underneath Rafe’s shirt.

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #dark!jj maybank #dark!jj maybank x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron #dark!rafe x reader #dark!rafe cameron x reader #obx fic #obx fanfiction #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine #jj maybank imagine #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #jj maybank fanfiction #obx imagine

[gaysindistress]

Things that I feel like would happen when you’re in a relationship with Astarion.

I started playing bg3 and i have it bad for this vampiric menace of a man.

misc character masterlist

Warnings: blood drinking, he’s a vampire so yeah

1. He’s basically a cat but gods forbid you tell him that.

I have a tortie and let me tell ya, she is the sassiest animal I’ve ever met. This cat will climb into the closet just high enough that the dogs can see her but can’t reach her. She will jump into the counter and stare at me because she knows she’s not allowed up there. She will bat at the screen in the window until it pops open and she can escape. But jokes on you! she doesn’t actually escape, she just goes to the back door and meows until someone lets her in.

Anyways this is exactly how Astarion is. He’s sassy but hides it as being a witty nobleman when he’s really just being the sass master. He will do things purely to get a reaction out of people i.e. when he attacked you the first time you met. There was no need to try and pull one over on you like that but he did it anyways because he can. If you get too close to Gale (aka talk to him), he will pout and give you the cold shoulder because gale ‘is such a bore and I’m obviously better company than that, darling.’

He will make the biggest scene if he feels like your attention is being pulled away from him. Oh you’re talking to Shadowheart by the fire later than usual? He’s glowering at your back from his tent until you look over your shoulder at him. When you make eye contact, he’s going to roll his eyes and huff as he throws open the tent flaps. Shadowheart chuckles under her breath because she knows exactly what’s happening.

The longer you’ve known each other, the bolder he gets. He’ll add more each time. At first it’s just the staring and huffing. It moves to glaring at your companion and then waltzing over to you so he say something sassy like “I am not your mother. I should not have to drag you to bed each night.” When that stops getting the reaction he wants, he’ll plop down next you and make every annoyed noise known to man. He might even start to nudge you, extending out one delicate hand to touch your knee or elbow until you get the hint.

But don’t you dare call him out on this. Like a cat, Astarion needs to feek comfortable safe with you. If he gets even a whiff of negativity (or what he thinks is), it sets your relationship back weeks. Pointing out his little feline quirks will feel like you’re complaining or annoyed with him and he can’t handle it. He’ll pull away from you and resort back to his stand offish ways. He’s making sassy but lowkey hurtful comments all of the time. They’re not directed at you because he would never forgive himself if he upset you but that sentiment doesn’t extend to anyone else. Worst of all he won’t feed from you and would damn near starve himself before asking you.

It’s a delicate dance between the two of you but one you would never quit.

2. Feeding from you is difficult for him.

At first it was merely a means to an end but then you became more important to him and now he can’t bring himself to feed from you as much. He would rather never do it but alas blood is in limited supply and you’ve already given him permission to take what he needs. If he can, he finds some other way but it doesn’t always work out. You’ve never asked him why he seems to avoid such a normal task but it’s always on your mind and one night you blurt it out.

I imagine it’s been a long few days and tonight is the first time you’ve been able to relax. Freshly bathed, fed, and now sipping at decent wine, you’re lounging with Karlach and Shadowheart. The three of you have had more than enough wine to be relaxed and have passed over into what Astarion calls ‘delightful chaos’. You’re giggly enough to be entertaining but can still hold a conversation albeit slow and slurred. Your pale elf has been cranky all day and poor Gale has been the target for most of it. You tried to step in and at least lessen Astarion’s onslaught but that earned you the nastiest glare to date. Since then Astarion has been sulking in the shadows or hiding in his tent. You’re the only one brave enough to go near him when he’s like this however it’s still rather dangerous.

On clumsy feet you find yourself just outside of him tent where you can feel the brooding and angst wafting from inside.

“Astarion?” You gentle whisper to the fabric, awaiting his acknowledgment.

“What?” His response is short and biting, similar to how he’s been speaking at Gale.

Assuming he doesn’t realize that it’s you, you say his name again and ask if you can come in. He nearly brings his tent to the ground when he rips open the flaps.

“What?” He repeats with fury and pain in his dull eyes.

It should scare you, seeing him so feral and unrestrained but seeing him causes a wild smile to break out on your face. Your hands go to reach for his face but quickly they fall when you remember that everyone is watching you closely. Whatever wine you drank has given you an armor of courage (and stupidity really). You smile at him with all of the affection you harbor for this ethereal being and slide past him into his tent. The simple action sends everyone else into high alert while Astarion barely contains the hiss he wants to send their way.

When he turns around, he finds you already sitting beside his bedroll with your knees pulled up with your arms wrapped around them.

“What do you want?”

All he gets in response is a blink and then a beckoning to join you. Patting the space next to you, you quietly ask him to join you however he is determined to be cross with you for barging in. He repeats his early question with a hardened glower in your direction.

“Astarion…” you murmur to him, your voice low and gentle, “you need to feed.”

The sheer audacity to utter such a thing infuriates him to no end but you’re right. He does and the sanguine desire is growing far too large to hold in anymore.

He still tries to deny it but his words are unusually weak and he stumbles over each one.

“Come,” you order softly as you move to lay down on his bedroll and brush your hair away, “drink what you need. I trust you.”

Those three words are almost as powerful as a declaration of love to the vampire spawn. He finds himself crumble to the ground and crawl over your divine figure. The unholy need to devour you that he usually despises with his entire being is welcomed as his fangs sink into your neck. One of your hands comes to hold his shoulder and the other cradles the back of his head, keeping him close as he feeds from you. Your gentle touch and reassuring voice overwhelms poor Astarion. He begins to whimper and moan into the supple skin of your neck without even realizing it. When he pulls away to keep from completely draining you, he’s breathless and muttering to himself you how good you taste.

Why he would ever deny himself this divine experience?

3. He refuses to admit it that he loves when you initiate touch.

Because of his past, you’ve decided that you will only touch him if he asks and if you get explicit consent. Most of the time you wait until he invites you in some manner whether that be he telling you to get over here or paw at you like a cat. He appreciates it, he really does but sometimes he craves the feeling that he gets when you ask him.

His favorite, though, is when you ask him if you can lay in him when he reads. You’ve been napping in his tent on and off all day, having chosen to stay back and recoup after the long events from the past week. Most of your companions have been doing the same but Astarion has been trying his hardest to not spend too much time around you. It’s hard enough to not just bask in your affection but even more so when you’ve been cuddled up in his tent all day. When you finally decide to go to your own tent, he takes the opportunity to reclaim his bedroll. It smells of your sweet scent and is still warm from your body, something he secretly craves.

You return to his tent a few hours later after everyone has eaten and settled in for the night. Peering down at him with sleeping eyes, you cross your arms and huff when he ignores you for his reading.

“Yes, my dear?” He quietly chuckles while still pretending to read his book.

“You’re in my spot.”

“We’re in my tent therefore it is my spot.”

You can’t exactly argue with him. You plop down next to him and give him the biggest puppy eyes imaginable.

“Will you at least let me lay on you if you’re not going to move?”

If it could his heart would be doing flips and his cheeks would be red but alas neither thing is truly possible.

“That depends…” he pretends to be uninterested in your request and continues with his straight face as he flips to the next page in his book. He can hear your huff of annoyance and fails to hide the small smirk that tugs at his pale lips.

“On what?” You pry even though you both know this is just a little game and he’s going to give in.

“Ask me nicely.” He drawls in that low seductive voice he uses when he’s trying to persuade you. Finally he flickers his eyes over to yours. That simple action alone steals your breath and chases away any negative feelings you might’ve had.

You crawl closer to him, nearly touching him but not quite as you whisper your request again.

“Of course you can, my dear,” he whispers back while his smirk has fully taken over his face. “Lay your head here."

He pats his sternum and waits for you to settle. Much like a lover seeking warmth in the night, you immediately take refuge in his arms and cuddle as close as you can to him. You feel him set his the book on your upper back when you've found the comfort and warmth you sought.

Astarion begins to murmur the book’s words as his other hands rests at the base of your head. His fingers don’t yet feel confident in moving to thread into your hair but they do softly rub at the tension in your skull. Peace is found in your embrace and he couldn’t be happier that you asked him to join your party all those weeks ago.

#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion imagine #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion fic #astarion fanfic #bg3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 tav #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate tav #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate fanfiction

[netherfeildren]

How to Endure Ardor:

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Joel teaches you how to love him.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Post outbreak; QZ Joel Miller; I'm saying this, but the setting is sort of ambiguous anyways, Stream of consciousness, Character Study, Alternating POVs; PIV sex; The troubles and toils of breaking up and then making up with a fucked up old man; Uncaring Joel; Mentions of painful sex; Toxic relationships or situationships or whatever you want to call it; I think I'm addicted to the idea of a Joel who'll never love you and I should probably see a doctor about it

A/N: she remembers how to write, who'd of thought!

Word Count: 1.3K

Read on AO3

This is a lesson:

“Tell me again,” she says, and it’s a begging.

A begging like what? Something that carries shame and smallness in the shape of it. Stay a little longer. It humiliates him for the wretchedness it pulls from him. Joel, please. Seeping blood the color of her supplication. Please, she says, please. And who else says please to him anymore? Who asks him for anything anymore but her? The only ones who ever had are long past and gone, and he can’t even barely remember they were ever really there to ask anything of him to begin with—can’t remember what it feels like to owe someone something and want to give it to them in a way that will actually make him. 

Tell me what again? That I want you? That I’ll stay? That I love you? I’ll come back, he says instead, the only thing he can promise and keep. And he wonders if it humiliates her too, the way he lies, the way he runs, the way he swears, the way he always comes back and comes back but never returns with the things she needs. A humiliation just like it is a begging. 

The thing they have: it’s strange, fickle, honest in its lies, very, very ugly. An ugliness that is shocking in a world gone to rot already. The sky doesn’t shine anymore and they bask in it. 

But also, and, the thing they have: it’s physical, saving.

This is obvious too, even if only to them.

He slides inside and you’re what? Hot and wet and slick, and—yes, a thing like a dream, but still only a thing. Something to have, something close to desire, but not quite, more like biological want. Woman turned possession. In his mind this is an excuse, a reason, a begetting. Like, what—like what? Like when you want a thing very badly but it is very bad for you, and you need to make up any excuse to have it, lie and lie and lie—to your mother, your best friend, the mirror—a begetting like that. Easy to understand only if you’ve been there. 

It started simple, it started like nothing, it started like the first time you meet someone and you know they’ll matter, you know they’ll mean something. So it started like what? Like a lie. 

Shifts at the QZ, long and toiling and reminders of the sort of life that died in an outbreak of monsters, only if for how unlike that past it was. Humans or fungus or—

—men who hurt—you, men who refuse your love, Joel Miller.

The crutch of your age, of you being weaker or smaller or in need, him being easily felled, wooed, easily conquered by something young and given without a try because there was never the opportunity for trying before. 

Now, it is like this: you take my cock and you take my come and you take my nothing, and I give so little and yet you still find a way to take and take and take, leech of a girl, dream of a girl, hungry. And with the excuse that it’s only in a way you contrive for your own self. But in the end, what does that make you? What do I make you into? 

These are the things he asks himself. 

Perhaps she goes away for a time, tries the route of escape, of variety. But when she inevitably comes back because addiction is riddled always in the same sorts of ways: did you try different bodies? Did you try different flavors and sounds? Did you look for me in all of them? 

The answer is usually yes.

At reunion’s turn: he rolls her over to face her, Joel, damp and panting and trying to be something—perhaps better, more honest—after a season of variety and honest attempts and shut eyes. He’s so hard for her, always is. 

Again: he slides inside and you’re what? His, undeniably. Not yours. Something to want but not desire because it’s too romantic a notion, and yes, there’s a difference even if he can’t put into words what that difference specifically is. Body and heart, perhaps, definitions that differ between disparate anatomical parts or levels of deniability. 

Nothing either of you have ever been able to put into words when lust and love aren’t things you can even say out loud for the shame of them, even if they exist within said same anatomy. 

You come together, the season passed, the separation passed but still kept at hand for the next time the closeness becomes too much. 

“Tell me again,” she says, and this time he remembers what she’s asking for.

“I fucking missed you, baby. Missed this pussy.” Because he can’t say it’s her heart he missed. Because Joel Miller does not have honesty in his arsenal. 

He spreads you wide, knee to shoulder so it hurts and pulls, so it’ll be sore and reminding tomorrow. The slap of his pelvis against the back of your thighs is obscene, wet and lewd, a string of girl cum keeping you connected, such togetherness, curve of your ass to the root of his cock—the two of you are together again. 

You know what I thought, when I tried to go away, you say. He doesn’t want to know, but he doesn't tell you so either, only slides in again, the mouth of your womb right there, threatening. I’m never going to feel like this again, and I hate how certainly I know that. He wonders if the unsaid part is that he’s the recipient of that feeling, the hate. 

He wonders if the pinch inside him is hurt. He wonders if the throb is love. 

All he says because he can’t say the rest is, I missed you, I missed you, and if he could look himself in the mirror—something that’s twenty years past lost—he’d ask: are you alright? Just tell me you’re okay. And it sounds in your own voice and with your own care and the feel of your own warmth. Is there anything I can do?

Other times, he sees himself through your own eyes, and then he knows for certain that the throb is love 

So he makes up for lost time, hard—and if it was a thing he knew how to be— loving. Mouth to cunt first, primed and soft and begging, making you come again and then another once more, then inside of you. Slow, splitting you open, red cunt like a wound, balls slapping wet, pulling out to watch the gape of the space he’s carved for himself. His cock is so hard and missing you something desperate. And he’s reminded of what it is to really miss something in a way he hadn’t been in twenty years of apocalypse, he’s forced to realized that it’s been so long since he’d had something to love that he’d not realized the feeling of missing that long past someone had gone away, only faint memory remained. 

Violent, is what this makes him after that realization—thrusts turning hard and punishing. How dare you give yourself to me? How dare you then take yourself away? You come around him again, the gift of your orgasm. How dare you not be able to accept the little I’m able to give when I’m trying so desperately fucking hard to give you even just this? 

He fucks you mean, he fucks you in the way of a man who doesnt know how to say the things he needs to say, in a way that’s confusing, that could make a less discerning woman feel only the hurt. 

But then again, you know him.

Fucks you in a way that is a little bit like love.

And so, amidst all of it, there is an honesty amongst the lies. A truth unspoken that they both know—I’ll come back because I need you, because you’re the only one who can give me the things I'm not strong enough to ask for out loud. 

You’re not sure which of the two of you is the one saying it.

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#vic fic #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader

[celabi]

Some soft scara for the soul 🫶

Clumsy !reader who’s always tripping over her own two feet. she keeps her eyes up and doesn’t bother to look at the ground below her. most of the time it costs her her footing, and she falls face first to the floor more times then she can count. It really gives Scaramouche a scare, every time he’s unable to grab you just before you hit the ground, he winces. though to make up for it, he is always quick to come to your care. dropping beside you and helping you stand back up. his hand reaching for the bandages in his pocket that he keeps spare just for this occasion.

He cleans the dirt from your knees, and like his mother did when he was a child, kisses the scraps on your palms to try and take away the pain. they’re always fresh wounds when he does it, and it’s stings when his lips make contact, but the worried look in his eyes every time he patches you up makes you refrain from commenting.

His voice is so soft too. something along the lines of “oh my sweet girl, where does it hurt?” while he’s tending to your injuries. telling you to watch where you’re walking so you don’t litter your pretty skin with scratches. It keeps him on his toes, and he hates it…but at the same time can’t help but like it. like how he gets to care for you whenever your trip over. being able to hold your hand and run his thumb over your knuckles in a silent effort to try and comfort you. he knows that it does nothing, but he still tries.

Clumsy !reader who does it again. her head in the clouds and too distracted by the world around her to notice the small crack in the pavement. and before you or Scara knew what was happening, your foot gets caught and you end up tumbling to the floor. The hard concrete showing little kindness to your sudden greeting, going far as to knock the wind from your lungs and leaving you short of breath. you whimper in pain, unable to balance your landing. the loose stones from the road dig into your flesh uncomfortably, only adding onto your misery.

Scara knew he should have kept you closer, a closer eye on his surroundings so maybe he could have prevented this. and though it’s really not the big deal he makes it out to be, he’s still upset. He quickly discards the bag he was holding somewhere behind him before dropping right beside you, one hand on your back while the other softly pulls you up by the arm. He’s cooing reassurances into your ear, soft murmurs of ‘you’re alright, my love’ and ‘it’s okay, don’t be upset.’ as he helps you up to your feet.

Your little fall had for some reason grabbed the attention of a few by passers, but they don’t stare for long because Scaramouche is quick to scare them off with a small, angry glare. and while it successfully does the job, it’s doesn’t stop the small tears of embarrassment flooding your eyes. to have people watch you make a fool of yourself, in public no less, is just so humiliating that you can’t help but cower into your boyfriends side to try and hide yourself. It’s not the time to be flustered, but he can’t help but swoon at your cuteness. he’s able to quickly snap out of it though, and leads you over towards a bench, sitting you down before taking place beside you.

Your palms are scraped, small drops of blood escaping from your open scratch. It makes you frown, these dark red stains on your brand new sweater will one hundred percent be a pain to wash out. Scaramouche watches as you eye your sleeve, and takes notice of your annoyance, placing his hand on your thigh and running smooth circles on your skin to try soothing you. “Don’t worry, I’ll buy you a new one.” he whispers, and nudges closer towards you, where the warmth radiating from him body mends with your own. he’d like to be as close as possible, and if you say anything about his neediness, he already has a plan to blame the cold.

“There’s no need for that.” you shake your head, making no complaints when he takes ahold of your hand and brings it towards his chest, where a handkerchief he pulled out from his pocket starts to wipe at your wound. His eyes dart continuously from your palm to your face, where he watches you bite your lip in discomfort when he accidentally presses down a bit too hard. he curses himself, and lightens his touch as to not hurt you further, the last thing he ever wanted to do. Scaramouche apologises, a small ‘sorry, baby.’ he whispers to you, and pulls your hand up to his lips where he places small kisses along your wrist.

Anyways, just clumsy !reader always tripping over her feet, and scara who’s always there to pick her back up again.

#scummy scara :( #🍃 — drabbles ☆彡 #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #yandere scaramouche #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #x female reader

[moonit3]

THE OTHER HUSBAND

➥ warnings/notices: yandere, obsession, death mentions,, gn! reader, violence, reader implied to be depressed, reader has a child, the husband is implied to be a yandere too but show up at the story only mentioned despite being named aspen, your real husband is a bad man, threats, mentioned murder, blood, reader has scars, mentioned fight.

➥ yandere! male beldam x gn! reader

➥ synopsis: feeling trapped in a wedding with a child, a mysterious force manages to make your worsen by befriending your son.

➥ a/n: this took more time than i expected (*ﾟ▽ﾟ*) but it’s finally here on halloween days! and it’s quite big this one, maybe more than 1k words? probably. also, this is a Halloween special (yay!), despite not celebrating it, i really enjoy the holidays, so happy Halloween my dear readers!

➥ the idea of marriage was never really appealing to you, it never imagined to get married with a man like your husband, specifically with someone who was the responsible for this arranged marriage. aspen was the one who stolen your freedom when he paged mother and father with a great amount of money, he is the one who stolen your virginity and the one who made sure to make you have his child.

➥ billy, a little boy who resemble your husband, but has the enthusiasm you once had, your son is what many couple envy. a smart cookie, athletic and generous boy like him should have a perfect life, right? not really. you feel awkward to be around him, not bearing to look at his eyes, yet you try to take care of him and father doesn’t seem to care much, only using the little one as a reason why to keep you inside the manor.

➥ the three of you don’t live a perfect life and pretending to be a happy family don’t help either. billy is no fool to realize that you are trying to get a divorce from his father to leave away from here, trying to raise him away from father, but the same doesn’t let you to go. billy began to think about if you leave dad, then you would be happier, right? so he asked the wishing well for his baba to find someone else to be happier, someone who could be a better dad than his biological one. not knowing that someone did hear.

➥ after a few days, in the middle of the night, bill yreach your bedroom (as you refuse to share one with your husband) and woke you up with his tiny hands, saying that he needs to show you something. firstly, you wanted to go back to sleep, but your little boy made you get up and walk towards one of the unused room, where he made you kneel and crawl through a tiny door. you believed that it would lead to another room, but you two ended in the living room, how? and why is the walls like this?

➥ it’s look more alive, more happier and why there is a smell coming from the kitchen? who would be nuts to cook at this later hours? shielding bill, you slowly approach the kitchen, ready to attack the person, but it’s your husband, at least a copy of him. instead of eyes, there are buttons replacing it and a gentle smile in comparison of the usual cold expression.

➥ you wanted to run, take billy to somewhere safe, however the child escaped your hands and went to hug the mysterious man. your little boy looks so happier with this version of your husband, not even flinching when the other husband raise his hand to pat the boy’s head and he notices you.

➥ oh dear, i missed you so much! where you and billy have been in the last few days? aspen, or someone who resembles him, tried to hug you, but you step away. who is this man and why he looks like aspen? this doesn’t make any sense and something inside you is telling to go stay away from this man, but you can’t. not when bill is all over him and trying to make you get closer to his other father, that how bill refer to the mysterious man.

“baba, why you don’t want be around the other father?” the innocence of this boy not knowing where is the danger makes you worry about when he grow older to be able to do his own decisions. “did you two fight?”

the other father is preparing dinner, something the real aspen wouldn’t never do as this as your task most of the times, “well, because i don’t know the other father. i know your father, the real one who is back at our home, not here.”

“b-but this father is nicer and even cook to us! since when aspen made us a meal? never!” ah, yes. billy is on the phrase where he calls his father by name and you can’t even be mad at your son for that. “and the other father knows about my allergies too!”

really? does your son thinks that you change your mind by saying that? he puts his puppy eyes to make you let him stay just a little longer for true dinner with the other father, but you aren’t letting happening.

“after this dinner, we will go home, our home. do you understand me?” the little boy nodded at yours words, knowing is better not to change your mind when you speak the final words, but thee is something off with the smile on his face…what is this boy hiding from you again?

minutes later, the other aspen step inside the dinner room, holding the tray of food that he prepared for the three of you. it’s taste good, you can’t deny about it, and seeing billy interacting with the other aspen makes you heart pounding a little faster. your son never bonded with his father, no matter how hard you tried to make them closer nor the numerous family gathering. but with the other father, billy looks happier and even trying to show the drawing he did earlier today.

billy’s smile didn’t stop growing til the end of the dinner, when after he brushed his teeth and put his dinosaur pajamas. the boy look adorable sleeping on a such comfortable bed with many plushies surrounding his sleeping form. your could just stay looking at him for hours and not worry about nothing. he is your life, the main reason you keep going and try to be happy despite been marrying to a monster like aspen, and speaking about him, the other one seems enthusiastic to talk with you.

“we are finally alone, my dear.” his cold arms hold you to the bed he offered to share with him tonight (and forever) since it would be bad to you sleep in the couch, no husband shouldn’t allow this to happen with his loved one!

“yeah, we have.” you replied, trying your best to pretend this is your real husband, the real aspen that is trying to change, not a carbon copy. “billy told me that you want us to stay here, right?”

his lips curves into a smile, unlike the one he had on the dinner, this one looks more uncomfortable and scary. “i knew it you are a smart girl/boy/person and we both know that we want the best for our son, isn’t that right? from what he told me, your husband haven’t been the best and always yelling at billy for no reason.” he didn’t stop at there. “and he also told me about you. always working, tired and sadness on your face when you try to talk with aspen, asking for a divorce and only receive slaps and scars at your body.”

what?

billy saw that? it can’t be right. you always made sure to put him to bed before talking with aspen alone about a potential divorce, but guess you never knew how good your son is at pretending. that’s mean that billy heard every discussion, every fight, every broken plate and glass during the night or the moments when you cry at your bed, afraid that aspen would come in. it’s makes sense why billy began to sleep at the guest bedroom with you, everything makes sense now.

“what do you want from us?”

“only you, my dear.”

it’s seem that time froze when he answered. everything got silent, your breath being the only sound of the bedroom as you process his words. his hands are on your body, bringing you closer and closer to his chest, not leaving any space to escape form his touch.

“and what if i don’t want to stay here? what if I grab billy and leave this place for good?” you questioned him. “then locking that door to prevent my son to come down here.”

“then i will kill him.” what? he can’t be serious. “it wouldn’t be the first time i take a person’s life to archive my goals and won’t be the last. and if threats don’t work on you, how about i see you to my bed? you won’t be able to leave if i do that.”

its getting colder. your body shiver with a wind that you don’t know where it came from and your can feel his breath behind your neck, making you question what he plans to do next. is he going to hurt you? that doesn’t really matter, you can handle it. but what if he tries to hurt billy? then you don’t know if you can handle to see your little boy hurt.

“don’t hurt billy, please.” you pleaded. “he is the only thing that keeps me alive. please don’t kill him, please! i will stay with you, just let him go, i beg you!”

“oh, dear. it’s cute that you believe that you can request those things from me. billy won’t leave, after all, it would quite lonely to have only you around.” he hold your chin to look up, to look at his buttons eyes. “you would do anything to please me to assure that nothing will happen to him, am i right?”

his nails are making your face bleed, tiny drops of blood ruining the shirt that billy gifted you from christmas, “i-i wont misbehave.” how aren’t you crying form the pain? “i will do anything.”

“i know you will, dear.” he smiled. “from now on, im your real and only husband.”

@moonit3 writings

#yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere male #yandere writing #yandere headcanons #yandere male x reader #yandere boy #yandere man #tw yandere #yandere headcanon #yandere x gender neutral reader #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #gender neutral y/n #gender neutral reader #my oc aspen #my oc billy #my oc the other aspen #➥·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ moon writings

[josephquinnswhore]

Hi

Can I request a fic where Ellie and Joel are traveling to Wyoming but before leaving they go to a store to pick up supplies

And Ellie asks why they are there and he’s like “I have to stock up for my family “ ( cause he left for supplies “ and she’s in shock he has a family but when they get there, they notice that the house has been raided and there are dead raiders in the house

So Joel starts to freak out and can’t find his wife and kid but then ellie finds them in a hidden shed

And when Joel rushes to them, he’s worried about the blood on her but then she’s like “ it’s not mine”

Sorry for it being so long , and it’s totally fine if you do not want to write it :}

A Mothers Strength

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader.

Summary: you and your baby aren’t where Joel left you, instead there is a trail of blood and two bodies he doesn’t recognise.

Word Count: 3.1k

Content Warning: typical tlou violence, reader bashes someone’s brains in, (out) Joel has a mild panic attack.

Note: I’m gonna make this so angsty lol. Thanks for the request I love you anon 🫶🏼🥰 this is one of my new faves!!!!

If there’s one thing Joel taught you; it’s not to panic, to think rationally and do what you have to do to protect yourself; to make sure you were the one that survived, no matter what that entailed. Joel was gone, he had gone to do one last trip to the Boston QZ, he had gone to trade some pills and alcohol for a car battery, he had found a truck a while back but the battery was busted, he claimed Tess knew someone who had one, he hated leaving you, and your 6 month old daughter. But he knew if you had a car, it would ensure safety compared to travelling on foot. That was 5 days ago, it wasn’t unlikely that something had happened, trading in itself was a danger that set you on edge, let alone travelling by himself back and forth with one measly gun and a whole city worth of infected, however many were out there, you would imagine it’s a lot. You had to learn to fight while you were pregnant, you couldn’t be in the Boston QZ and be pregnant, they wouldn’t allow it. Joel helped you escape and you’d been travelling since, looking for a safe haven and trying to find Joel’s brother Tommy. You’d learned you were capable throughout your pregnancy at taking out infected. Very capable.

Unlike Joel however, you had never had to face up against something even worse, other people. Joel had told you stories of when the infection first began, the things he did, the things he and Tommy did to survive, it was essential, survival of the fittest and you had never reprimanded or judged him for it once. Now you were finding yourself in a situation where you would have to find yourself in Joel’s shoes, you would have to find the strength to take lives of people if necessary, to protect you and your daughter. Joel had boarded up the windows and doors before he left, which apparently only made the raiders more suspicious, their murmurs outside becoming louder and more aggressive as they tear down the planks of wood, two voices of men can be heard. You load your gun quietly and hold it to your chest, your uneven breathing causing you to shudder through your nose as you purse your lips. You take one last look at your sleeping daughter in her small hand-woven basket, blue blankets keeping her warm as they wrap around her. “I love you, so much.” Worried you’d never get another chance to tell her again. You slide the basket under the bed out of sight.

“Hey, did you hear that, there’s movement in there. We’ve got company.” One man laughed as their voices became clearer you realised the protection Joel had set had been torn down; it was up to you now, to protect your family. “What if it’s an infected man?” The other man voices reluctantly as they turn the knob and swing the door open. You tiptoe behind the door, hoping that your daughter would stay quite long enough for you to eradicate the intruders. You held your breath as the door opened and you shot the first man in the head, his body dropped to the floor with a thud, the blood seeping through the cracks of the old wooden floors. The gunshot had rung through the room, you could hear the muffled sound of your daughter crying, her wailing drew the attention of the second man who had just growled, “fucking bitch!” As he charged towards you, he had tackled you to the ground, overpowering you easily as he knocked the gun from your hands, he’s heaving from the struggle, his gun pointed at your head once he’s got you still enough. “Gunna fucking kill you then that annoying fuckin kid.” Adrenaline kicked in at the thought of something happening to your daughter, you struggle underneath him and grunt, bringing your knee up to his crotch which he groans at, “you fucking whore, gonna make you pay for that!” He’s holding the crotch of his jeans when you find a baseball bat hidden in the corner that you’d stashed days ago for an emergency in case you’d run out of bullets, you hurry back wards and grab the bat, standing to your feet and before the man can react, you bring the bat down onto his head, he falls to the ground holding the back of his head to try and protect himself from the blows.

You’re seeing red, yelling over the top of your screaming daughter, rage overcoming you as you repeatedly bring the bat down over and over again. You only stop when your arms begin to ache with a weakness that makes you drop the bat, his brain and blood is coating the floor in a slick that you almost slip on as you step over him. You bend down and reach for your daughter, taking her out of the basket, shushing her, “shh, I know baby, it’s okay. Mama’s got you.” Rocking her back and forth until she calms down. You set her back in the basket once she’s settled, you begin to rip up the floorboards in which have your supplies hidden beneath them. “Well, we can’t stay here now can we?” You tell yourself. You pack your bag full of the supplies, food and batteries weigh the bag down heavily on your shoulders, let alone trying to carry your baby in her wooden basket that’s heavy enough without a baby in it. With one hand, you somehow manage to pick up your gun, turn the safety off and stick it in the back of your jeans. You have to walk over the two dead bodies that have begun decomposing, you couldn’t stay here, not with the smell and mess to clean.

“Alright little one. Let’s find somewhere safe to stay till your dad comes back, huh?” As you take your first step out of the house that was meant to protect you; you wonder if you’ll be able to find somewhere safe, if Joel will be able to find you. You just had to hope he would.

“My pack is heavy Joel, can’t we rest?” Ellie grunts in discomfort as she shuffles the heavy backpack in an attempt to try to get it to sit more comfortably, it doesn’t.

“We ain’t stoppin’ till I say. Ain’t got long left to go so stop complaining.” Joel’s fast on his feet, even though the sun is baring down on him without mercy, he’s sweating in his long jeans and blue flannel shirt that’s well outworn and a size too small, his stomach less toned than it used to be, it was a ‘dad bod’ as you had called it, the sleeves are rolled to his elbows. The skin of his face, the back of his neck and arms are well golden now, after hours of travelling in the sun, the damage had been done and his skin was already tanned, he would have to invest in a hat, like you’d always scolded him about, was was sure you would again, after seeing how burnt he was.

“Ain’t got long now, just a few minutes up the road.” Joel clarifies, they walk along the empty tar road, the green grass is long overgrown, well over a foot taller than Joel, his eyes scan the area for raiders as he knows from past experience that they like to lurk in the tall grass and try to ambush you. It happened one time in this area and he hoped you’d never have to protect yourself like how he has, or does. “What are we doing here?” Ellie asks as Joel’s body had subconsciously led him to the small dirt pathway that led to an old house, the paint was faded green and peeling from the wood that seemed to be rotting. “My family are here. Had to trade something before we left for Wyoming.” For the first time ever, Ellie was speechless, Joel had a family? “What’s their names?” It didn’t take Joel long to notice two sets of footsteps, large, around the same size as his own in a boot print, he knew it wouldn’t be infected, it had to be raiders. “Quiet, get behind me.” Joel growls as he reaches for his gun from the back of his jeans, pushing Ellie behind him with the other arm, he walks forward and sees the wooden planks he’d hammered to keep the building closed, were now on the ground, some snapped in half, the front door was open and the silence was eerily quiet, Joel didn’t like the ache that formed in his stomach, the guilt, the fear.

“Fuck.” He breaths, pushing forward with his gun in front of him, the first floorboard he steps over, because he knows it creaks, “stay here. You hear me? Do not come in here.” Ellie nods, seeing the colour falling from Joel’s face and his orbs are blackened, his exterior is hardened and he’s never seen Joel look so fierce, she almost cant recognise the man in front of her, compared to who he was only a few seconds ago. Joel pushed forward, the dining room was clear, everything seemed to be in place which was odd, as he walks through the hallway he checks the first bedroom which is clear, again seemed untouched which he thought was weird, if it was raiders, why didn’t they raid the house? The boards along the windows had all been torn down, the windows open wide and giving the outside world a look into the house. His heart hammered in his chest as he approaches the bedroom door, where he left you, told you it would be okay, that you would be safe. He almost can’t find the will to turn the knob, scared of what lies inside the room.

When he turns the knob, he’s not expected to be hit with a stench so foul he’s taking a few steps back, he almost pulls his shirt over his nose just to try to mask it, he pulls out a bandana and secures it around the back of his neck, giving him some relief from the smell, but not much, it was a stench he knew too well; decomposition. His body is shaking as he bursts through the door, expecting to find his wife and infant daughter, he finds two bodies he can’t recognise, one with a single bullet wound to the head, the other.. was probably the cause of the smell. His brains were splattered along the floor and upside of the wall, blood was stained and now black as it leaks through the already damaged floorboards, your baseball bat sits a few feet away with a huge chip out of the wood, a giant crack through the middle and brain matter and blood splattered up to the handle. He almost lets a breath of relief escape him, seeing the floorboards pulled up and supplies all gone he can almost conclude that you survived and escaped with the supplies, but where were you? Where was your daughter?

“God damn it where are you darlin’?” He says to himself. When Ellie calls out to him. “Joel! Joel? I think you should see this.” Joel steps over the bodies and closes the door, leaving the bat behind. He meets Ellie at the front door and follows her concerned eyes to a shed about half a mile away from the house, a light shimmering from inside the shed caught their attention. “Get out your gun.” Joel instructs coldly. Ellie doesn’t ask about his family, although she can piece the puzzle together, there was something in there that Joel won’t talk about. Could it have been? She doesn’t want to ask.

“Keep up kid.” Joel quickens his pace to a jog and Ellie stays beside the man, she suddenly forgets how heavy her pack is, and Joel ignores the way the battery digs into his back as he runs; but he’s frantic now, wondering what’s happened to you. He can’t, he refuses to lose you and your baby after all he’s been through since this shitstorm started. The gravel crunches underneath their boots as they run towards the shed, the light shutting off when they get within 50 yards. Someone is definitely occupying this shed.

“Stay behind me, got it?” Ellie only nods, she starts to panic at the thought of approaching this shed, she knew nothing good could come of it, seeing the look on Joel’s face scared her. What the fuck was in that house?

You hear it before you see it, the crunching and shuffling of someone coming in your direction, you had to cut your baby feeding off your breast short, lying her down and rocking her basket for a few seconds so she’d settle and quiet down. You pick up your gun that’s set on the work bench beside you and try to peek through the small hole in the wood, to add to your terrible day- two blurred figures ran towards the shed, arms outstretched which you figured must be guns. Fuck. You look back towards your fussing baby with tears in your eyes, maybe your luck has run out. You weren’t going down without a fight. Your adrenaline was still at a high from the fight before, your body still aching but prepared to gauge out eyeballs if that’s what it took to protect your daughter. Where in the world was Joel? The shed door creaks open, it’s a decent sized shed, although you knew there were only so many places you could hide. You heard a voice, a female, she sounded young, but you can’t underestimate anyone these days, anyone and everyone is a threat. You shimmy your daughters basket under the work bench, where you’d pulled a blanket over it to give her a better chance of not being seen.

You creep behind the work benches, hearing their footsteps you can calculate where they are, you’re going in blind, you don’t know how many people they could have hiding around the area, and that’s what worries you. You see a spanned on the ground and throw it, it lands about 8 metres in front of you and it catches their attention. “Did you hear that?” The girl says, her footsteps are fast and then stop. You hear hushed whispering of a man, but you can’t hear what they’re saying. It’s quiet now, they’ve gone opposite ways around you to try and box you in, one is heading straight for the direction of your daughter, by the heavier footsteps you’re assuming it’s the man’s

Fuck it.

You rush back to your daughter, knocking over some things in the process that gain the attention of the two people, you’re sitting in front of your daughter, the cloth barely holding up, you sit with your gun in front of you, your body aching and you weren’t sure if you’d make it this time. You see the girl first, she’s holding a gun towards you and she’s scared, she doesn’t shoot. It’s obvious she’s never held a gun before and you don’t want to shoot a child. “There’s someone over here, she has a gun.” She says in a panicked state, the man comes running over from behind you, seeing you covered in blood and arms shaking, his eyes are scanning and he can’t see your daughter. “Put the gun down,” he warns the young girl, he approaches you, puts his hand over your gun and lowers it. “It’s me darlin, it’s just me. Where is she? You’re covered in blood.” The panic in his eyes and voice is evident, his body tense as he kneels down to you. You don’t say anything, you just pull down the cloth that’s behind you, exposing your fussing daughter in her basket, in the same blue blanket Joel had wrapped her in a few days ago.

“S not mine, the blood.” You’re trembling as you feel the adrenaline leave your body, you were exhausted, eyeing the young girl that was standing there awkwardly. Joel picks up your daughter, rocking her with tears in his eyes, “hi baby girl. It’s your dad, I’m so sorry I left you behind, promise I won’t ever leave you again.” Joel turns to you, “cmon darlin’, we gotta get you up.” Joel helps you up, you stand on wobbling feet like a newborn foel. He sends you a concerned look and you turn away, “I’m fine.” You lie, he notices but doesn’t protest, he’d get to the bottom of it later.

“This is Ellie, she’s comin with us. Ellie this is my wife and daughter.” The girl awkwardly waves and you mutter, “hey, sorry bout the gun kid.” She shrugs, “no big deal. You seem like you’ve had a worse day than mine.” You just shrug in respond, not wanting to talk about it.

Joel makes quick work of putting the new battery in the truck and it starts, having half a tank of fuel your luck is beginning to change. You pack the supplies into the car and Joel begins to drive, it doesn’t take Ellie long to fall asleep in the backseat. Joel’s hand rests on your leg, trying to offer some comfort. “We don’t have to talk about it, jus know I’m here for you.” You look away as you start crying, tears just fall one after another. “Said he was gonna hurt our baby, I just lost it Joel, I blacked out I just- I had to protect her. I don’t even feel guilty, that’s the worst part. I took a life so brutally and I don’t even feel bad about it.” You look to Joel and his eyes are soft, the wrinkles on his head are prominent as he frowns softly. “You did what you had to do darlin’. You kept our family safe. He was a bad man, he got what was comin’ to him. You don’t ever feel bad for protecting your family. You won’t ever have to do it again. I ain’t ever leavin’ you two again, I promise you.” Joel’s own eyes start to blur as tears fell from them, from fear and relief. “Joel?” Your voice is quiet as he looks to you, “are you okay?” He sighs, trying to even his breathing. “I saw the windows and the door open and I just thought the worst, then I smelt the blood and I was terrified that I was goin to find you and-“ he chokes up, unable to finish the sentence, he thought he would find you and your daughter dead. “We’re okay Joel. I fought, just like you taught me to.”

“An now I’m never gonna leave again, can’t risk losing you two, not after everything.” “I know Joel, I believe you.” There’s a moments silence between you when you notice how burnt he is. “You’re sunburnt.” You deadpan, unamused. Joel looks bashful as he rubs the back of his sunburnt neck, “I know. Promise I’ll get a hat soon.”

#pedro pascal #joel miller #angst #tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller the last of us #joel miller x you #Ellie Williams #mum x reader Joel miller #dad joel Miller

[kisskiss-slashslash]

Slashers accidentally killing their witchcraft s/o but a few minutes later they revived again and they find out that they are actually immortal?

Ty and have a great day <3

Here you go!

Warnings: Blood, Gore, Allusions to amputation

Slashers accidentally killing their s/o only to find out they’re immortal

Jason Voorhees

His machete slipped out of his hand, and time seems to slow down as it heads straight for you. There is nothing he can do, it all happens so fast, and before he even knows what is happening, you’re on the ground, the blade buried in your chest, down to its hilt.

His whole world is anguish. Memories of the night his mother died are flashing through his head. First her, now you. And this time, it was all his fault.

He sinks to his knees next to you without paying any attention to the escaping victim, and cradles you against his chest, hot tears dripping from under his mask onto your face.

You groan. “Hey… Jason? Love? Could you please pull the machete out? It’s really uncomfortable.”

He looks at you with wide eyes. You return his gaze sheepishly.

“I… I guess I should have told you that I kind of… can’t die.”

Wait what? He tilts his head at you.

“Yeah. You know. Practising witchcraft has its perks. Now please…. the machete?”

Needless to say he is torn between being angry and relieved. Could you not have told him that before he essentially relived his past trauma?

Vincent Sinclair

He mistakes you for a victim. He lost sight of the last survivor of the current group, but he can hear someone right next door.

He strikes before he can see who it is. And it happens to be you, now with his carving knives sticking out of your neck on both sides. When he realizes what happened, he reflexively pulls the knives out, and you are already on the ground, blood pouring out of the wounds.

He drops his weapons in horror and rushes to your side. You are losing too much blood, there is little he can do… But soon the wounds seem to close up again with no issue, and you sit up.

“Vincent, honey. Next time, please look before you slash. Okay? This would have gone horribly wrong if I weren’t immortal.”

You still look a bit ashen, but seem otherwise okay. You assure Vincent that while you may be a bit more tired and lethargic until your body managed to regenerate all that blood you lost, there won’t be any long-term damange.

Freddy Krueger

It’s a prank gone wrong. Freddy assumes that, as his s/o, of course you aren’t afraid of him, so he can feel free to play rough with you in the dreamworld. But love or not, appearantly there is a tiny sliver of you that is at least a little afraid of him and his powers. Which is unfortunately only something the two of you notice when your stomach gets sliced open while Freddy tries to tickle you.

“Ah shit… fuck… bitch… we’ve been together for so long, how the FUCK are you still afraid of me?!” He panicks and tries to stop the bleeding and you… you start laughing.

“Freddy, you can stop. I can’t die. The whole witchcraft thing, remember?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

You double over and clutch your stomach, both from laughter and to keep your guts from falling out. It *is* pretty adorable how worried Freddy is for your safety. And in the end, even if he can technically hurt you, your immortality still means that you can play rough with each other.

Brahms Heelshire

Another one of his fits of rage, after which he finds you on the ground, bones broken and with blood pouring. He stares at your remains in horror.

“Hey…”

He kneels down next to you and shakes you.

“Hey, get up. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Please. Get up… don’t leave me…” He starts sobbing, uncontrollably switching between his child and adult voices in his distress, until he feels you gently pat his back.

“You’re grounded”, you say dryly. “Just because I’m immortal doesn’t mean I’m down to being your punching bag.”

“Yes. Yes of course. I’ll be good now, I promise”, he sobs, relieved that you are okay after all.

Bubba Sawyer

He accidentally touches the button that switches on his chainsaw while the two of you are fixing some malfunction. The saw buries itself in your torso, sawing through bone and soft muscle and organ alike. Your blood sprays through the room, and Bubba howls with terror while desperately fumbling to turn it off again.

He finally manages to, after a few seconds. But the damage is already done. His hands are cupping your face, running through your hair, knowing that after an injury like this, there is nothing he can do. He just whines softly, trying to somehow comfort you, if you can even still hear him.

“Geez”, you sigh, with some difficulty. The saw completely shredded one of your lungs, after all. “Good thing that it missed my spine; regenerating that would have been a pain.” You look up at him and are met with Bubba’s teary gaze.

“Bubsy”, you coo softly. “I’m fine. I don’t die that easily. Give me a week to recover and I’ll be good as new. So no tears, okay?” You raise your hand to wipe away the tears from under his eyes.

When Drayton later learns of this day’s events, he asks if you can also regenerate limbs, like, say, a leg. You will have to firmyl tell him that you are *not* going to end up being the family’s primary meat source.

#slasher x reader #jason voorhees x reader #brahms heelsire x reader #bubba sawyer x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #freddy krueger x reader

[pamgkrthwrites]

2500 please?

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Fandom: BNHA

Pairing: Dad!Bakugou x F!Reader

Themes: Bakugou is not the perfect dad but is trying his best, based off of a TikTok Sound

Summary: You get a call from your nearly 16-year-old daughter at 2 a.m. asking for $2500.

Word Count: 1K

Tag List: @optimisticprime3 @dreamcastgirl99 (Sorry if I've forgotten or gotten someone's tag wrong)

A/N: I should've been working on an assignment instead of this....

“Hey mama, do you have $2500 you can send me?” You heard your 15-year-old daughter’s voice through the phone.

You leaned up in your and Katsuki’s bed, looking at the time. “Katsumi, it’s 2 am. What do you possibly need $2500 for?” Your head hot the pillow before you suddenly sat u straight. “Katsumi, where are you?”

“Um-” You heard your daughter’s voice go weak though you could still hear her smile over the phone. “An escape room?”

“The truth, Katsumi.” You warned, sitting up in your bed.

“... Prison?”

You sat up straight, your eyes open wide. “PRISON?!”

Your husband Katsuki sturred awake, mumbling some curses.

“You can’t tell daddy!” Katsumi’s voice strained. “My friends and I were just goofing around-”

“Can’t tell me what?” You heard Katsuki's grumbly voice say before you turned your head, seeing your very tired 42-year-old husband. He grabbed your phone as he sat up, pulling it to his ear. “What did you do and where are you?”

You heard your daughter's voice become quieter and you could imagine her doing the thing she’s done since she was 3 and got in trouble with your husband. Lower lip pouting, looking down with hands behind her back and kicking rockings with her feet.

“... My friends and I snuck out and we went to a party and the cops were called and apparently there were drugs-”

“Drugs?!” Katsuki’s voice boomed. “You’re doing drugs?!”

“Nononono!” Katsumi panickingly rushed out. “There happened to be drugs there! That’s why we got arrested-”

“ARRESTED?!” Katsuki was going to pop a blood vessel with how angry he was.

You heard your youngest daughter Fuku crying now from her room. You gave your husband a look, but all you saw was anger behind his eyes. He took a deep as he clutched onto your phone tightly. 

“Where are you being held?” He asked through gritted teeth as he signalled to you to check on your 7-year-old daughter.

You groaned as you got out of bed to go check on your youngest.

Katsuki waited until you left the room before glaring at the phone as if Katsumi could see his glare. “You’ll be grounded for 2 months, your birthday party is cancelled and you’ll write your mother an apology letter.”

“What?! But that's so unfair!-”

“Do you want me to come pick you up or do you just want to walk straight home?” You snapped at his daughter.

“... Fine…”

The drive from the police station was long and awkward. Katsumi wondered if her father was driving the long way home just so the guilt would eat her alive. She looked up at Katsuki with her eyes, the same eyes that you had.

He was silently fuming.

She looked out of the sports car passenger window, looking at her reflection in the side mirror. Her eyeliner was smudged and her father’s wheat-blonde hair looked messy with your hair texture on her head.

“Where’s mama?” She asked.

“At home. Someone had to watch your sisters.” He answered coldly. 

When he noticed he was getting close to the street they lived on, he parked on the side of the road close to the park he used to take Katsumi to.

She stared at the park, remembering when she first got her quirk at the said park when she was 4. How you held her so closely with a smile and spun her around while Katsuki just watched, realising Katsumi had his same quirk.

“Why did you go?” He asked her, trying to keep a level head.

“I just wanted to do something fun with my friends.”

“You’re 16 in 4 days!” He pointed out to her. “You shouldn’t have snuck out! What if something worse happened than just drugs happening?”

“Why would you care-”

“Because you are my daughter, Katsumi!” Katsuki tried to hold back a tempered response. You told him to be gentle. He was never really good at it. He tapped his finger on the steering wheel. “Is this about that boy at school?”

The lack of a response from Katsumi confirmed it Katsuki. He took a breath in trying to not get angry.

“I know you don’t like him-”

“Understatement of the year, Sumi.” Katsuki butted in.

“-but I really like him!” Katsumi had small tears in her eyes and her fists clenched.

Katsuki was silent, tapping his finger on the wheel. 

“... Don’t change yourself for some boy, Katsumi.” Katsuki said to her. “If you’re going to date, don’t make it a life lesson for yourself.”

Katsumi turned her head away from her father, crossing her arms. “Whatever.”

Katsumi barged through the front door, avoiding making eye contact with you as she made her way to her bedroom, passing her sisters’ rooms along the way. She slammed the door shut and locked the door, leaving you and Katsuki alone with high tension lingering in the house.

“What did you say to her?” You asked him with a raised brow.

“I told her not to change for that stupid boyfriend.” You angrily answered as he made his way back to your two’s bedroom.

Once you closed the door did he take off his shoes and shirt before getting back into bed. You sat beside him and gently rubbed his old man's back.

“Was he at that party?” You asked Katsuki gently.

“I don’t fucking know-! Probably!” He groaned, burrowing his face into a pillow.

“... Maybe we need to have the talk with her-” You stopped yourself when you saw the nasty look Katsuki was giving you. “Don’t act like that, Katsu. I started having sex when I was around her age.”

“With who?” He glared, his possessiveness over you still strong as ever, even after 18 years of marriage.

You just rubbed his back. “Not important. You have to accept that she’s going to start dating, there isn’t much you can do about that.”

Katsuki sighed, getting comfortable in bed. “Let’s just go to sleep. It’s 3am.”

You leaned down and kissed Katsuki’s forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha imagines #bnha imagines #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #katsuki bakugou x you #bakugou katsuki x you #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo katsuki x you #katsuki bakugo x you #x reader #x you #dad!bakugou

[updownlately]

if you’re gonna waste my time (let’s waste it right)

| leah williamson x reader | hurt/comfort | 3.3k | disclaimer: mentions of anxiety, self loathing, negative thoughts, and depression -this delves into some slightly heavy topics so please read at your own discretion! | a/n: got this ask a while back and an idea struck to me while driving! first fic in a while that i've written in one sitting so let's see how this goes! honestly started off really strong but then idk where we went. anyways, not proofread as usual, but happy reading! take care amigos! and just know that each of you are loved, cared for, and cherished by those around you, even if you don't know it! 🫶

~~~

Fight, flight, or freeze.

They say that every human has these three survival instincts built in.

Instincts meant to protect, to escape, but most importantly, to survive. 

Responses meant to make sure that one would make it out of harm’s way, preferably unscathed. 

Fight, the mechanism that evoked adrenaline. That helped you battle your way through the toughest of encounters. 

That did its best to make sure you were well equipped to tackle any scuffle, minor or major, to the best of your ability.

Flight, the mechanism that helped you run- escape before you couldn’t anymore. 

The one that ensured that you got out before you could be attacked- before you could be hurt.

And then of course, freeze. 

Rooted to your spot, immobile as harm directed itself towards you, one only praying that you could be so still that harm skipped right past you, practically avoiding you as you let it pass. 

Freeze, that left you with a pounding heart, blood rushing in your ears.

Freeze that meant you couldn’t move, body rigid, feet planted, mind stopped in time.

Freeze that kept you stuck. stuck in an endless loop of agony, of shaky breaths, of paralyzing fear.

Freeze, considered the weakest of the three. 

So as you stood there, eyes wide, muscles tense, body frozen, you cursed your mind and body with all that you could, wondering why of the three instincts, freeze was what you had done in order to try and survive.

~~~

There’s something terrifying about the voices that ring in your head.

How they so scarily sound similar to the people in your life, past and present.

Voices reminding you how you aren’t good enough. How you’ve let them down. How maybe if you weren’t there, the world would be okay. That it would move on without a hitch, without a second thought, because when it came to it, at the end of the day, maybe, just maybe, you didn’t really matter anyways.

Voices that sounded like your mother, reminding you of dark nights of you hidden in your room, the harsh words ringing in the four walls of your bedroom, what was supposed to be your safe haven, now tainted with feelings of regret, of disappointment, of outright disgust.

It’d be better if you didn’t exist.

Voices that sounded like your father, angry yells late into the night, enough smashed dishes that left your hands littered with scars that’d never cease to remind you, enough nights spent under your covers silently wiping tears as you prayed that you were quiet enough.

What a waste of air.

Voices that sounded like past coaches and management that knocked you back with each word spoken, each push forward sending you feet yards back, support that felt like hindrance more than anything.

You’d be lucky if you got to play past the little leagues. It’d be a miracle that’s for sure.

Voices that sounded like fans- people that were meant to support you- but you couldn’t force them to. Hundreds if not thousands of comments left, each asking for you to be traded. Hell, they’d take a sack of potatoes if nothing else. 

I can’t believe that we wasted our money on this. Can’t we just, I don’t know, get rid of her? She’s the reason we suck. Maybe if she was half a decent player we’d actually be somewhere in the league.

Comments that repeated your worth. Ingrained it into your mind. Over and over and over again. 

You weren’t good enough.

Sentences that etched themselves into the forefront of your thoughts, always ready to haunt you at the slightest notice. 

You weren’t good enough.

Not now, not ever. 

Not for your own mother or father, never mind your siblings. 

Not for your teammates, nor the fans.

It was a miracle you were even playing professionally in the first place.

God if they took one good look at you maybe they realized how poorly they fucked up by signing you. 

You weren’t a good footballer, barely even a decent one. How you managed to play for this long was a miracle.

They’d notice soon enough though. They had to. They always did.

They’d notice soon enough that you weren’t good enough.

And then?

Then you’d be left with nothing, as you always were.

~~~

You didn’t know when you were led inside to the locker rooms- when that absolutely terrifying moment of being in front of the opposing team’s stands had gone from you taking a corner to being absolutely pelted by random junk. 

From empty bottles (plastic thankfully), to empty food containers, balled-up programs, signs, merch, all being hurled your way, never mind the onslaught of assaults- the stands only repeating everything your mind ever told you, every, single, day. 

You didn’t hear when the ref blew their whistle, nor when the rest of the girls dressed in red crowded you, some chastising the fans along with the away team, others wrapping around you protectively, quickly leading you towards the benches. 

You weren’t there as you were subbed off, your mind still frozen, much like the rest of your body. 

All you knew right now was that you could smell the familiar scent of your girlfriend’s perfume as the heel of your palms pressed harshly into your eyes in an attempt to cease the uproar in your head. 

Breaths getting heavy, you tried your best to calm yourself down.

You weren’t a stranger to panic attacks, and even in your hazed state, you could very well recognize the oncoming situation.

Bringing your arms to wrap around your own stomach in a futile attempt to bring yourself some sort of comfort, you felt your breathing pick up as the sharp lights of the room seemed to get darker. 

Room spinning, the voices in your head louder, you could only bring your knees up to your head, body now practically in fetal position as you rode out the attack.

Even with the hundreds you’d had by now, you hadn’t been able to come up with an effective method to deal with them. 

So you sat there, huddled into a ball, body shaking, mind louder than ever as Leah stood above and watched helplessly.

The blonde had been there in the stands to watch you get abused, immediately making her way down to the pitch because ACL and league rules be damned, that was her girlfriend for fuck’s sake. 

She stood by the sidelines, ready to receive you as the obvious substitution occurred, an arm coming to wrap around you as she led your ghost of a body to the locker rooms.

She watched as you mindlessly sat in front of your locker, not a single word uttered from you, not a single response to the quiet comforting words the blonde had whispered to you gently in an attempt to rouse you from your clearly distressed state. 

She itched to reach out and touch you as she saw you slowly curl into a ball, you getting ever so smaller as she could only helplessly watch, you unknowingly  flinching the second she touched your shoulders in an attempt to comfort you.

It was only when your heavy breathing died down every so slightly, nearly fifteen minutes later if the blonde’s perception was right, that she tried again, slowly coming to sit beside you as she gauged your reaction. 

Seeing your shaking start to slow as well, she slowly wrapped an arm around your shoulder, her own body tense as she watched you stiffen up before you relaxed slightly, letting her pull you into her side as her other hand came to hold your left one.

And long after you had buried yourself into her side, body defeated with the rollercoaster of emotions you’d just experienced, too tired to think of any of the consequences of your actions, you let Leah led you- helping your pull on a hoodie and your jacket and change out of your cleats as she gathered the rest of your gear.

Helpless except able to nod in agreement as the blonde suggested you leave early from the game, you followed her quietly, not a word said from you, as she led you out of the ground and to her car, where you fell asleep within seconds.

It was only when the car pulled up to her house, a place you’d been to many times, your relationship long past new to the both of you, did you rouse, mind still not present and following the blonde.

Leah was good. You trusted Leah. Leah was safe.

The words repeating in your head, you believing they were true like all the other words that crossed your mind, you let yourself sleepily be led up the stairs and up to the ensuite. 

Standing there awkwardly as you slowly came to the situation, the lights in the washroom waking you up, your shoulders sunk as the embarrassment from earlier set in. 

God you were an embarrassment. First a panic attack in front of the English skipper, and now this- you stood helplessly in her bathroom like you were broken, waiting to be fixed.

You watched in dread as the blonde flitted around the joint closet, quickly gathering a change of clothes for you before she stacked them neatly on the countertop, handing you a towel and starting the shower, not meeting your eyes.

What you didn’t know was that she didn’t want to scare you off, intimidate you as her heart ached at the shameful look in your eyes.

“Take a warm shower, yeah? We’ll get you some food after, and then how about a nap?”

Unable to do anything but nod in response, your fear of upsetting the blonde, of anyone really, making itself known, you followed her instructions, locking the door as she left and starting to remove your sweat covered kit. 

~~~

It’s nearly twenty minutes later when you emerge from the shower, your dirty clothes held precariously in your hands, your eyes wide as you see Leah sprawled across her bed, scrolling aimlessly on her phone. 

A small smile unknowingly escapes you as you watch her nearly throw her phone, very much caught off-guard at your appearance.

Smile tightening quickly as you realized it rested on your face, your eyes met the ground, ears sharp as you noted the footsteps headed towards you.

Before you knew it, the mess of dirty clothes was swiftly taken from your hands, your gaze snapping up as you watched Leah take your dirty kit and toss it into her own hamper before turning to you. 

“Alright. I’d rather you eat, but I’m not going to force you to, yeah? We can take a nap, maybe just reset, or if you wanna sit down and watch a movie or a show we can do that too…how’s that sound?”

Feeling your eyes water at the blonde’s gentle tone, feelings still overwhelming from earlier, your sights met the ground again as you meekly nodded. 

Blood rushing in your ears, you felt the vibrations as Leah stepped towards you again, her hands gently taking yours. 

“Nap?”

Taking her chances at guessing which you preferred, the tender tone in her voice had you easily nodding again, tears you’d been trying to hold back now escaping. 

And as the blonde led you to her bed, you winced as the voices in your head picked up once again, mind baffled at why someone was treating you with this much kindness, this much care.

Choosing to ignore them for now, you smiled shyly at the sight in front of you, Leah having rounded the bed to go on ‘her’ side, the skipper tucked into the sheets, arms wide open as she shot you a soft grin, eyes sparkling with glee as she waited for you to join her. 

Gingerly approaching the bed, you hesitantly pulled back the covers, eyes meeting Leah’s every few seconds to make sure you were okay, before entering, unsure of whether you were allowed to hug the blonde (even if a part of you so desperately wanted to do so). 

Your question was answered for you, however, Leah was unable to see you lying down in such a stiff manner, taking matters into her own hands and hooking an arms around your waist and pulling you into her.

And as you slowly got comfortable, moving millimetres every minute until you finally found yourself resting with your head on her chest, arm wrapped around her midsection as her hand came to wrap around your waist, one running through your hair, you let yourself sink into her hold, brain quietening every so slightly as the familiar presence and scent had you relaxing.

It was only when you were on the verge of sleep, minutes later, did you hear Leah’s voice whisper into the air between you two, her lips pressing a tender kiss to your forehead as an apology as she realized her mistake of rousing you from your sleepy state.

“There’s a lot that goes on up there,” with a small nod towards the top of your head, she continued, “but it doesn’t have to stay there y’know?”

Holding her breath as she felt you shift slightly, you turning your body to listen better, she spoke again.

“I’d be more than happy to stay here and listen to you when you need it. Really, any of us would. All of the girls love you and care for you, and despite whatever people might say, you add to the team, yeah?”

Feeling you nod hesitantly at the words, Leah waited as she sensed your jaw move, anticipation killing her as you sounded out the words silently before they left your mouth- and even then, you winced slightly.

“I don’t want to be a burden…don’t wanna waste your time…”

There was something in the way the words quietly rolled off your tongue, no doubt said many times before, the sincerity behind them proving you meant them wholeheartedly- that you believed you were an inconvenience, that broke Leah’s heart.

You weren’t a burden. You weren’t.

She wondered if you’d ever seen yourself the way other’s saw you. If that coloured glass that you saw yourself through was tainted any other colour than black. Whether it was ever yellow so you’d see just how much of a ray of sunshine you were on the stormiest of days, often cheering up your shared teammates with just a single smile as you’d skip into the change rooms.

Or if you ever looked at yourself through the rose coloured glass, the same hue that would coat your cheeks as you’d interact with fans post-game, giving each and every one your undivided attention, making them feel special, and loved, and cared for.

Or whether you ever saw yourself through green, breathing life to even the dullest moments, standing tall, unwavering, as players would try to take you down on the pitch over and over again, you getting back up each time, a force to be reckoned with, one that not even the rainiest of days nor Mother nature could defy.

You weren’t a burden, and the blonde needed you to believe it, because it was the truth and nothing but the wholehearted, honest-to-god truth.

It’s why her honest admission just tumbles out, the words spilling before the defender could stop them.

“If I could hold you all night and all day, I would, without a single doubt or any hesitation.”

Her grip tightening on you as the words are spoken clearly and strongly, her placing a gentle kiss to your temple before continuing.

“If you think you’re gonna waste my time by talking to me when you aren’t doing well, then just know, that listening to you as I try and comfort you and get the chance to hold you in my arms? It’s the best waste of time I’ll ever have in my life. It’s one I’ll cherish till the end of time, because it’s never, and I mean never, a waste.”

Taking a deep breath in, the blonde felt you nod at her words, your own grip tightening around the blonde as you pulled yourself closer into her, closing your eyes in an attempt to believe her the best you could.

Leah could sense your struggle though, not ignorant to the way a small, trembling breath escaped you, frustration clear.

“You don’t have to believe me now, or any time soon really, but just know, it’s the wholehearted truth- and I’ll spend as long as you need reminding you, because you’re good enough. You’re more than good enough, and worthy of love, and a good life, and good things. You deserve love, even though your brain tries to tell you otherwise, yeah?”

When you didn’t say anything, it clear to the blonde that you were silently taking in her words, contemplating them, doing your best to believe them, she let you be, revelling in the silence as took in the feel of you being in her arms, one of her favourite feelings in the world.

The blonde could almost feel you turning her words over in your head, examining them from top to bottom as you inspected them for any indication of a lie, surprised when there wasn’t one.

Content with the way you hadn’t spoken out yet in disagreement, Leah decided to take her chances and bite the bullet.

Proposing her next idea, the blonde held her breath in anticipation, heartbeat slowing dramatically as she hoped you’d agree to her words.

“I’ll always be here to hold you, but I think it might just help if we see a professional, yeah? You and me, both of us, we’ll go, and just give it a crack?”

Feeling your hesitancy this time, the blonde pulled you closer to her gently, turning onto her side as her eyes met yours. 

One hand now carefully resting on your cheek, she placed a loving kiss on your forehead, then your nose before continuing. 

“Three sessions is all I ask. If you don’t want to go after that, then I won’t ask again, ever. But, just give me three sessions, and I’ll be there for each one if you want, and if nothing changes, then you’re off the hook, deal?”

There was an audible sigh of relief that escaped Leah’s lips as you hesitantly nodded in agreement.

Deciding that that was good enough for the time being, Leah smiled softly to herself, more than happy with any baby steps of progress being made.

“Just want you to love yourself the way the rest of us love you. The way I love you…”

The words were punctuated with another gentle kiss on your head, this time her lips lingering as you both basked in the touch, the blonde well aware that physical touch was your love language. 

Nodding to yourself as your girlfriend’s arms wrapped around you at the end of her sentence, heart feeling just a tad bit lighter as her embrace sucked you in, you let out a sigh of relief at the quiet in your mind and warmth in your chest.

Snuggling further into Leah’s hold, you let out a shaky breath as the emotions of the day filtered out of you, you weren’t going to lie, you were terrified for the future- absolutely scared shitless for what it held. But, with Leah by your side, on your team, cheering you on, a spark of hope nestled quietly inside you, filling you with a refreshing breath, a new goal to work towards.

Not now, not soon, but slowly and surely, you’d work your way through this. You wanted to. for your sake and hers.

After all, with your girlfriend to remind you that you were human, someone that could live and not just survive, maybe you could finally teach yourself it too.

#not proofread as usual #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso community #woso #my writing #fic #fic req #hurt/comfort #iygwmt

[rikiluvly]

MIDDLE OF NOWHERE

🥀*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔡𝔦𝔣𝔣𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢𝔰 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔭𝔲𝔩𝔩 𝔲𝔰 𝔞𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱

tysm to the anon that requested this! <3

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | more to come...

PAIRINGS: vampire!riki x human!reader

SYNOPSIS: you and your mom move into an old mansion after some struggles. but what happens when the mansion is actually occupied by 7 vampires and the youngest just can’t seem to keep his eyes off you.

GENRE: vampire au, fluff, a tiny bit of angst.

WARNINGS: mention of food, slight swearing, and Ni-ki is kinda rude.

WORD COUNT: 1.3k

PREVIOUSLY ON MIDDLE OF NOWHERE:

"look, don't expect the others to go as easy on you as I did alright?" easy? he scared the living hell out of you two times now.

"when are they coming back?" you wanted to know so you could be prepared. but they could also easily pop up in front of you at any time.

"right about...now," you felt a gush of wind come from behind you, blowing your hair up.

there stood six tall, handsome vampires holding cups of red liquid. which could only be one thing.

blood.

~ ✩ ‧ ₊ ˚ ~

all those stories about vampires that suck your blood to turn you into one of them… was now seeming all very very real. Dracula was a story you adored the most. only the story you were experiencing wasn’t like Dracula at all. when Harker found out Count Dracula was a vampire he escaped… but it’s too late for you now.

staring at these six vampires sent shivers down your spine. their stares were digging into your soul like daggers trying to pierce your heart, but they couldn't quite reach the other side. the one side where you wanted to go home. home seemed like such a dream right now.

you turned you head to watch Riki’s expression. oh how he looked so happy to see his friends. do vampires really feel like humans? have the same emotions?

“Riki who is this?” the one standing to the far left questioned. the boys dark hair fell in-front of his face covering his eyebrows as he talked.

“just a girl… we got new owners,” the familiar boy replied scratching the back of his head. you just sat there being eyed by the line of boys. you smacked your lips together and went back to eating your food. there was no need to draw attention right?

“what’s your name girl?” another voice asked. your lifted head up only to be met with a figure sitting opposite you on the table.

“y/n… you?” you think you have the hang of introducing yourself to vampires now. basing off of your other experience.

“Jake. Is anyone else here with you?” a slight smirked formed on his face as he spoke. would it be wrong to lie? yes. who knows what they could do to you if they found out you were fibbing.

“just me and my mom,” you tilted your head to look at the others. they looked so sureal, like something that was only to be seen in your dreams. the one standing in the middle brought his cup to his lips and took a drink. a dribble of red liquid ran down his chin until he wiped it off with the back of his hand.

“and where is that Mother of yours then?” the in in the middle asked. he seemed a lot colder than the others, more reserved.

“not sure..” you really weren’t sure. what if she was just to come into the room and witness what was going on.

“I- I gotta go, sorry,” you got up and took one last look at Riki as you left the room. you went searching for your mom in every room. you were sprinting a long a hallway until the one and only Riki appeared in front of you.

“what the hell Riki!” I tried to push past him but he wouldn’t budge.

“your mother is asleep,”

“how do you know?”

“I went to go check on her for you…”

“oh, we’ll thank you.” such a nice gesture for something that could rip you apart when your sleeping.

“well I must get to sleep then.. thank you again Riki,” you said as you walked past him.

“no problem,” he replied in nearly a whisper as you walked away.

you had just finished get ready for a long sleep and was just laying in your bed. you had so many thought running through your mind, ones like how the hell is this happening right now? and what if they were to take my blood in the night?

you sat up and took a look around your room. It was pitch black but you could see silhouettes of objects scattered around. a mirror was placed directly in-front of your bed, you stood up from your position in the bed, switched the lamp on and walked over to it.

there were carvings of rabbits around the frame of the mirror, they looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in a while.

a sudden noise started to form from outside your window, you went over to draw your curtains apart.

a figure that you assumed to belong to one of the seven vampires was standing outside staring at the trickling pond. the water was moving in slow waves that was seemed to be controlled by the vampire.

you moved your hand slightly to wipe of the condensation on the window only to knock down a candle that was placed on the windowsill.

the persons head slowly turned around to meet his eyes with yours. eye contact was held for a few seconds until he vanished into the thick, cold air. you felt more nervous of the thought that he would end up in your room.

another noise was heard from the hallway that was outside your room. you walked over the door and peeked your head around the sharp corner, a dark shadow was seen moving across the end of the hallway towards the library.

you know that if you weren’t to exit your room blood would be taken from your body. so the brave soul that you are ventured out into the hallway and made your way towards the dreaded library.

once you reached the library the door was already left open only to reveal the darkness that filled the room. the door creaked as you opened it, once you walked in and switched the light on you were met with a high roofed ceiling that was painted with cherubs and white fluffy clouds.

you ran your hand against the spines of books displayed on the shelf’s. they were covered in thick layers of dust but the spines were incredibly pretty. you turned to leave the room but the person you saw by the pond before was standing right there…

“hello?” I said he walked towards me as he had no expression on his face.

"why are you here? you have no right to be in this room," the door slammed behind him as he took more steps toward you.

"answer me!" he was now towering over you, dominating the space. his sharp canines poked out from under his bottom lip and you couldn't help but look. he brought his hand to your jaw and lifted your head up to look him in the eyes.

"I sai- " he got cut off from talking when someone teleported next to him. he grabbed the vampire's hand and ripped it off your face.

"Sunghoon stop harassing her... she doesn't know," the voice was connected to a familiar face. Riki was now standing in front of you, protecting you from the vampire Sunghoon.

"go," Riki said sternly as Sunghoon exited through the rusty door.

"thank you, Rik- "

"why are you here? you need to learn not to wander around so much," he turned around to face you, standing a bit too close.

"I- I saw this shadow walking this way so... I followed it," you tilted your head down feeling slightly ashamed of your foolish behavior. should you have stayed in your dark, lonely bedroom after all?

"that's no shadow y/n, that's out Mother," his voice turned quieter as he looked into your eyes.

"after she died last year her ghost has been foolishly wandering the castle quite a lot, the library was her favorite place, no wonder you caught her coming into here," now that was a surprise, vampires now ghosts?

"I can see why, it's really nice in here," you felt sympathetic for Riki, and the others as well but he seemed really affected by it. as you looked into his eyes for a bit longer you noticed how pretty they were. for a vampire.

"yeah..." his voice drifted off as he maintained eye contact with you. his dark, long hair fell beside the sides of his face. up this close, you could see the beauty marks spotted around his face, the one on his chin caught your eyes the most.

"you have really nice eyes y/n," he whispered as your faces were so close you swear you could kiss him.

and you did just that.

A/N: sorry this isn't the longest fic ever but I put a lot of time into making it good, I hope you enjoy it!!

TAGLIST: @they2luv1naia @lwavander @itzz-me-duh @wzy3ka @lari-05 @entenen @143won @heysunghoon @soobiverse @soneonefromsomewhere @cinasual @j-wyoung @heartbreakrikiversary @lvrcvr

#enhahearts #enhypen x reader #niki x reader #nishimura riki #enhypen #nishimura riki x reader #kpop #new jeans #nishimura riki smau #enhypen smau #enhypen scenarios #ni ki x reader #vampire enhypen #enhypen x you #enhypen x y/n #niki x y/n

[scarafvcker]

synopsis: kunikuzushi can’t take his eyes off of your hands while you play guitar (i.e. he wants you so bad i want him so bad)

cws: handjob, blowjob, cumshot, kinda bratty!kunikuzushi, he’s also a switch kinda, gn!reader

word count: 2300+

a/n: inspired by a c.ai bot!! i was supposed to be working on my drafts while i was shadowbanned but i didn’t LMFAO

in the comfort of his garage, the indigo-haired boy wasn’t the haughty scaramouche of the small city’s band. in the comfort of his garage, the indigo-haired boy was just kunikazushi—the brash yet soft-spoken boy whom you’ve known since middle school. and as he sat in the comfort of his garage, drumming away at the drum set in front of him, his eyes were glued on you as you stood there, strumming away at your electric guitar, too lost in the music to feel his gaze burning into you.

the sounds of your practice was muffled to any outside ears by the numerous padding stretching over all four walls of the garage—a request from his mother when the band had first started up. practice was a lot quieter today, the lack of the other five members of the band was glaringly obvious and kunikuzushi was conflicted. the lack of venti’s boisterous laughter and heizou’s teasing antics was a nice change in pace, however with his attention not being diverted amongst his other band mates, his full attention was on you.

he’d spent years wondering about your hands, wondering about how smooth they look despite the amount of times you’ve plucked your guitar until you’ve bled on stage. his thoughts distracted him one too many times, playing the wrong drum at the wrong moment and completely messing up the beat for the fifth time this session. he lets out a disgruntled sigh, shaking the thoughts from his head while he reaches up to stop the cymbals’ mocking rings. he looked over at you with an apologetic look, his eyes wandering over your figure as you slid your guitar strap off of yourself.

“sorry, sorry.. i’m a little distracted today,” he muttered while he watched you put down your guitar and walk over to him. he could barely look you in the eye, fiddling with the hem of his shirt and pulling it down to cover up the tent growing in his shorts. that look you gave him sent a shiver down his spine. you were always like this—so confident and teasing and it’s no wonder why you were the second most popular member of the band, following closely after your smooth talking, blonde band mate.

“oh? sorry for what, kuni?” your voice held a teasing lilt as you spoke his name causing him to grumble once again. you let out an amused hum, leaning against the wall beside him and crossing your arms over yourself. his eyes flickered to your hands once again while they resting on your arms before darting back up to your face. you still wore that knowing smirk that never ceases to make his blood boil and rush to his cock, “sorry for checking out my fingers?”

kunikuzushi let out an exasperated grumble, “you noticed? damn it..” he slid a hand down his face with a groan, “sorry. shit- i’m so sorry.” he felt like a loser and a complete pervert for getting so worked up over something as simple as your fingers.

he shut his eyes and ran a hand through his hair, listening as a soft snicker left your lips. of course you knew—what did he expect? nothing seemed to escape your eyes, especially not when it comes to him. what he didn’t expect however was your fingers gently grazing over his jaw, tracing down his jawline before firmly taking his chin between your thumb and index and guiding him to face you.

his eyes shot open at your sudden advances, pupils blown wide when he looks up to see you towering over him. you wore that same devilish grin but he swore that with the way the ceiling light was blocked by your figure, you looked like you’d just descended from heaven and his thoughts were only made stronger when you leaned closer and brushed your thumb over his bottom lip. he’s thought about this exact moment enough to know where this would lead but despite that, his breath hitched the moment you began to lean in some more.

your lips touched his for a brief moment and he swore he nearly came in his shorts, letting out a soft whine when you pulled away. his face burned a bright red as he looked up at you through half-lidded eyes, his bottom lip trembling slightly. he fought the urge to chase after your lips, taking a moment to admire your features as they sat right in front of him. the lips that just kissed him were pulled up into a smirk, the eyes that always seemed to scan over him every second of every day were looking directly into his own, and the hands he’s spent everyday for the past few years thinking of were slowly inching up his leg.

his eyes were darting all over the place, shifting from your eyes to your lips to your hands in a pattern that help playing over and over again with each passing second of you sinking down to your knees. he was already hard the moment you walked into his garage but now he’s convinced his cock is gonna rip through his shorts. god, he’s so painfully erect and your teasing is driving him insane. he swears his balls are gonna burst as your fingers lightly graze up his knee and towards his throbbing erection at a pace so excruciatingly slow. you’re such a fucking tease and he’d be scowling at you right now if it weren’t for the moan he’s holding back.

his muscles tense as your fingers get higher and higher on his thigh and his jaw clenches when you start to palm him through his shorts, causing him to throb so deliciously under the fabric. his breath is slow and shallow as you continue to tease him, hitching slightly when your fingers hook under the waistband of his shorts only to snap the elastic against his hips with a smirk. he’s about to scowl at you, only to be stopped when his face contorts into a silent moan at the feeling of your fingers firmly wrapping around him through the cloth. his hips have a mind of their own as they buck upwards into your grasp, a soft groan leaving his lips, “stop fucking teasing.”

he scowls at you, his indigo eyes glaring at your widening smirk in irritation and lust. your fingers make their way into his waistband again and he’s half-expecting to feel the elastic snapping against his hips once more, only to be pleasantly surprised when you start tugging them down at an excruciatingly slow pace. your knuckles inch down his hips and down his thighs, grazing over his knees and over his calves until the fabric of his shorts are pooled at his ankles, leaving him in his shirt and boxers. your hands glide against his skin as they travel back up his legs, one hand resting right beside his throbbing cock while the other rubs his thigh ever so slightly.

he can feel his face burn a bright red, his eyes locked onto yours as you continue to tease him. your hand slowly inches towards his boxers until it finally grasps at him through the fabric, his body shivers at the touch and his cock throbs beneath the fabric. he bucks his hips up into your hand, a scowl on his face despite the deep blush. “stop fucking teasing,” he huffs, only for you to snicker and hook your fingers under the waistband of his boxers and snap them against his hips once again.

“you’re very demanding, kuni,” you hum, smirk still evident on your lips as you begin to pull down his boxers. he lets out a sigh of relief once his cock is free and no longer straining against the fabric, slapping up against his stomach and staining the fabric of his shirt with a drop of his precum. his about to reply with a witty comment only for his words to disappear off his tongue the moment your hand wraps around the base of his cock, a groan replacing them when your hand slowly pumps up and down his shaft while your thumb rubs at the tip. he watches as your hand moves up and down, the tips of your skilled fingers that usually have no problem reaching even the hardest notes barely touching around his girth and his pretty, pink tip throbs and leaks at the sight.

he feels like he’s losing his mind, his knuckles white from how hard he’s digging his nails into the bottom of his chair. he never thought he’d be in this situation, never thought he’d have to be holding back his own orgasm either. he’s so close to cumming already, so close to painting your face white right here and now and oh god how he wants to.. he’d love nothing more than to give in and have his cum splatter all over that pretty little face and hand of yours, maybe even watch you lick some of it off your lips but he’s not sure when this’ll happen again, if this’ll happen again so instead, he holds back.

he thinks you look perfect like this—your face so close to his throbbing cock, kneeling in front of him with one hand wrapped around his girth while the other slowly creeps up his thigh. he lets out a lustful groan when your other hand cups his balls, his full sack twitching and throbbing against your fingers. he can’t resist anymore—he bucks his hips a few times, fucking his cock into your hand while he lets out a string of breathy curses. his head is tossed back, his eyes shut tightly, and his mouth hanging open as he continues to let out the most sinful sounds.

your hand picks up the pace and he sits still in his seat once again, looking down to watch the way you jack him off—skilled fingers wrapped firmly around his girth, hand moving up and down his entire shaft, thumb sliding over his tip. “oh, fuck..” he groans, his grip tightening on his chair, “faster.” he scoffs when you do the opposite, rolling his eyes as your hands slow down. “you’re such a tease, y’know that?” he huffs, glaring down at you, “c’mon.. go faster.” despite his commanding tone, his expression is pleading for you to fist his cock again—teary eyes glaring down at you, scowling lips trembling ever so slightly, and his face dusted with a bright red.

“c’mon, will you- ohh, shit..” he cuts himself off with a groan, his eyes widening when you flick the tip of your tongue over his throbbing tip. he watches you lick his tip once again before you move your face down, eyes on his as you drag your tongue up the length of his dick. a shiver goes down his spine from all your teasing licks, a low groan emanating from his throat the longer you keep running your warm, wet tongue all over him. “enough teasing,” he huffs, bucking his hips again.

you press a kiss onto his aching cock before wrapping your lips around it and your teasing lasts for a little while longer until his self-restraint shatters. one hand lets go of his chair and resting on top of your head for a moment before pushing you down. he lets out the most sinful groan as he forces you to take the entirety of his thick cock into your mouth, his actions only spurred on as you gag and glare up at you through teary eyes. his hold on your head lets up just a bit as he groans, “i told you—enough teasing. hurry up and- ohhh, fuck..”

you immediately started bobbing your head at a fast pace, teary eyes locked onto his as you repeatedly pulling his cock out of your throat only to send it back in just a second later. he holds a hand on top of your head, his fingers buried into your hair as his hand follows your head’s bobbing. his free hand is still digging into his chair, his nails nearly puncturing the seat’s leather covering as he lets out a short string of low groans and whines, his head falling back and his eyes rolling back to match. everytime your tongue grazed over the underside of his cock—the tip of the warm muscle gliding over a thick and sensitive vein—he could feel himself getting closer and closer, feel that knot in his gut getting tighter and tighter.

you moaned with him in your mouth, the vibrations shooting up his body and causing him to whine and groan louder. your hands grip at his thighs to keep yourself stable, keeping up with your rapid pace as your eyes continue to sting with tears from the many, many times you’ve taken him into your throat. you keep trying to blink away your tears, only causing them to drip down your cheeks as the cock in your mouth gets impossibly harder at the sight. kunikuzushi curses under his breath and brings both hands up to guide your head up and down, using your throat as a toy for his own pleasure. you gag and moan, whine and cry as his cock continuously drives itself deeper and deeper into your throat and the noises only spur him on.

“fuck.. fuck, it’s so fucking good..” he moans gruffly, his cock throbbing and twitching wildly within your mouth until he pulls himself out from your mouth. he chuckles deeply as he watches you wince at the salty taste splattering onto your lips and tongue, most of his cum decorating your face, “so pretty like this, so fucking pretty like this.” he drags his fingers over your skin, gathering a bit of his cum before slipping his fingers into your mouth, moaning softly when your tongue quickly laps it all up. after a few seconds, he pulls his fingers from your mouth and wraps his hand around his stiffening cock, slapping it against your face gently before slipping it into your mouth once again.

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin modern au #genshin impact modern au #genshin scara #genshin impact scara #genshin scaramouche #genshin impact scaramouche #genshin wanderer #genshin impact wanderer #genshin kunikuzushi #genshin impact kunikuzushi #scara #scara smut #scara x reader #scaramouche #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x reader #wanderer #wanderer smut #wanderer x reader #kunikuzushi #kunikuzushi smut #kunikuzushi x reader

[lqveharrington]

Silver Roses & Fallen Snow

5: The Winner’s Guilt (Series Masterlist)

summary: Your father makes another deal, and Coriolanus Snow wins the 10th Annual Hunger Games, but Dean Highbottom won’t let him feel too good about it… Especially when he knows his weakness.

pairing: young!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

includes: reader’s dad being a dick, major fluff at the beginning, allusions to sex, kissing, death, mentions of murder, yelling/screaming, mentions of cheating, mentions of heartbreak, italics are flashbacks, bold italics are Coriolanus’ thoughts

word count: 4.4k+

a/n: oopsies, sorry for the long wait 😔 ALSO THIS STORY IS NOT OVER YET, DONT WORRY

Waking up and hearing your father’s nonsense about the Hunger Games was not the best way to start your morning as a mentor. Especially when your tribute had just survived the blood bath by the skin of her teeth and an ally. You really did not want to stay home any longer, but your father insisted that you stay and listen to his thoughts about the games, asking about your own thoughts and strategies on how you were going to get the young twelve-year-old to win.

“Mhm.” You nod mindlessly, poking your food in boredom. You were grateful for the food made by your wonderful staff, but your father was just ruining it.

“Be glad your sickly tribute had an alliance with the other District Eleven tribute. She would have been dead otherwise.”

You hum again, sipping from the tea this time. It took at least ten minutes before he switched the topic, something that made you want to listen to his speech about the Hunger Games instead.

“How are you and that young Snow doing?”

The question was out of the blue, which meant it was attached to something much worse afterward.

“We’re doing as fine as it always is.” You meet his eyes, the weight of your rose charm suddenly becoming prominent. “Why?”

“Can’t I take interest in my daughter’s relationship with a boy who isn’t worth anything?” Your father raised his brow, an entitled chuckle following. You glare at him, gaining his attention back. “You know his songbird won’t win. She barely escaped. And she’s friends with the other tribute who got bitten in the neck. They won’t make it out even if they tried. Plus, I know he would do anything to win, even if it means breaking a few rules—”

You shake your head, “Is this going anywhere? Or are we going to keep talking about the games?”

“Ah, you take after your mother.” He smiles at the memory before switching back to his authoritative tone. “I was speaking with Porcius Creed about his eldest son—”

“Father—”

“---And if all else fails with young Mr. Snow, he would be delighted to have his son wed you.” He finishes, looking at your expression with amusement. “What?”

“I hate you.” You seeth and push away from the dining table, taking your coat and leaving the Lovett Manor.

Your father had been talking about setting you up with another one of your peers after the games. You didn’t expect him to already arrange something without knowing if Coriolanus was going to win or not. Sure, his chances were slim, but you had the hope that he would win, even if that meant your tribute couldn’t. And it was hell knowing that if he lost you were stuck with Festus for the rest of your life. He wasn’t as bad as the other prospects your father had brought up, but there were others more worthy of you than Festus.

Including Coriolanus Snow.

There were several times when you knew you wanted to marry Coriolanus. You could be separated from him for months and still want to marry him. It was something you believed that would never change.

Lovett Manor was filled with the most prestigious families of the Capitol. Your father had invited almost everyone he was business partners with and those in control of the government. He had left little invitations for you to give out as the majority of them were already well acquainted with you through the Academy. Luckily, you were able to sneak an invite to the Snows, having the power to veto your father’s own opinions.

After all, it was your eighteenth birthday.

However, you had zero say in how your party was supposed to go. Your father had planned everything and hired the best staff to make the house and ballroom presentable for your birthday. All you did was watch from the living room and pick out a dress from the dozens your stylist brought in.

And with all the families present in the grand ballroom, you thought it would be best to sneak away while the party was still hot and heavy, taking quick steps up to your room.

Entering your room, you swung open the balcony doors to reveal the vast garden looming over the backyard. You could still hear the muffled songs playing from the ballroom from below as you leaned against your balcony’s concrete railings.

It felt like only a few minutes before someone came knocking on your door, making you release a heavy sigh.

“Yes?” You ask, body still facing away from your room.

“I haven’t seen you all night, beautiful.” Coriolanus entered, watching your eyes light up as you whipped around.

You smiled and let him pull you into an embrace, wrapping your arms around his torso. You tilt your head up, meeting his eyes. “Hey.”

“Hi.” He held you by the hand and twirled you around, admiring your figure. “You look stunning.”

Truth be told, the dress and makeup were truly beautiful. You wore an off-shoulder, silk red gown that cascaded down to the ground, with ruby earrings dangling and shining from the moonlight. Your lips were painted a daring red, matching your complexion beautifully. Not to mention the necklace hanging around your neck, which was Coriolanus’ favorite jewelry you’ve ever owned. But really, he loved the way you looked all the time.

“You look so beautiful.” He breathed almost intimately, his blue eyes now focusing on yours.

You continued to smile brightly, taking note of his matching outfit. You wondered how much Tigris had to spend just so he could look proper at your party. The thought gnawed in your mind for a bit before you snapped back, coming up with a quick compliment to cover your silence. “You look quite handsome yourself.”

A new song started up in the ballroom. A slower song preferably for the couples and single men your father wanted you to dance with. Coriolanus tilts his head at the music, a playful glint in his eyes as you raise a brow in curiosity.

Coriolanus formally extends his hand out to you, “Would you like to dance, beautiful?”

You shake your head with a small smile, placing your hand on top of his. “Of course, Coryo.”

He kisses the top of your hand and pulls you into a graceful waltz. One hand was placed delicately on your waist while the other held your hand that wasn’t holding onto his shoulder. He guided you effortlessly across your balcony, matching the song’s pace. You two spoke about your day and brought up memories from the past. It was refreshing to talk to someone you genuinely wanted to talk to.

“Thank you for the flowers.” You mention, remembering the orchids that were sent up to your room earlier while you were getting ready, Coriolanus’ handwriting scrawled on a piece of paper attached to it. “I love them.”

“I have another gift, but that won’t come until later.” He winked as he spun you around, watching your face flush red as he caught you.

“I hate you.” You bite back a smile, your heart wanting nothing more than to kiss and marry the man in front of you. You promised yourself you could never actually hate him. You knew there would never be a chance where you could have the strongest emotion to hate him.

He let a small smirk slip through, “You love me.”

“Yeah, I do.” You reply with the softest voice.

Coriolanus dipped you as the song came to an end, holding onto you tightly. “Happy birthday, my love.”

You smiled widely at him, knowing that he was the only one who completely swept you off your feet.

He pressed a loving kiss to your lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck. It seemed like fireworks went off in your stomach as the actual fireworks went off in the night sky, signifying the end of your birthday party.

“And Happy Anniversary,” Coriolanus spoke when he parted your lips briefly, gazing into your eyes filled with adoration.

By the time you snapped out of your memories, you arrived at the Capitol’s Citadel. You were unaware of how long you were disassociated with the world around you until the horns honking behind you grew more aggressive and loud. As you left the car and entered the impending building, whispers were going around of another tribute’s death. Many suspected it was another one of Coral’s, but you knew the truth and didn’t dare say a word about it.

Soon enough, Lucretius Flickerman announced the death of the tribute.

“Wakey wakey, my Capitol friends! I’m Lucky Flickerman and welcome to day number two of the Tenth Annual Hunger Games.” He introduces himself to the camera once more. “Now while most of you were getting your beauty sleep last night, something scintillating occurred. Bobbin, from District Eight, slaughtered.”

The screen flashed to the boy’s frozen body, the buzzer indicating the official death.

You bit the inside of your cheek, resting your hands on the back of your seat. You glanced around the huge room, looking for a particular blond when Lysistrata and Festus came over to where you stood, supposedly finding someone new to rope into their conversation about the fallen tribute.

“We have a question for you.” Festus clasped his hands together and pointed toward you. You blinked for a second, hoping that he wasn’t going to bring up anything your father recently told you. “Why do you think they wouldn’t show us the death of the young boy?”

You shrug and slip into the mask of a Capitol student with no care after realizing Festus didn’t know what his own father roped him into. “Maybe they lost the footage.”

“How can they? They were live all night.” Lysistrata furrowed her brows, glancing up at the screen. “Something is off.”

“Maybe they’re building suspense, Lyssie.” You silently thank whoever was in charge of the program for changing the camera feed. “Who knows what could have happened. Maybe the death was just too brutal.”

Festus shook his head like your thought wasn’t something practical. “Obviously it was one of Coral’s. Everyone else we’ve talked to said that no one else has moved throughout the night except her and the rest of her pack.”

You zoned out from their conversation as they started to argue more about the young boy, picking at your nails. The sounds around you meshed into one while the Citadel filled with Academy and University students, along with families of the remaining mentors. With your distracted self, you hadn’t realized Coriolanus arrived and was well aware of your disassociation.

“Good morning, beautiful.” Coriolanus slipped an arm around your waist as he left a quick kiss on your cheek. He quickly noticed you being absent-minded, rubbing soft circles in your waist. “What’s wrong?”

You hummed, taking his hand and lacing them together. “A lot of stuff.”

“You can’t be vague.” He clicks his tongue and lets you mess with his fingers. “What happened?”

You tilt your head up and peck his lips. “I love you a lot, you know that, right?”

“I do.” He murmurs, looking between your eyes. “I love you more than you realize… What did your father say to you?”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes at the mention of your father, cursing your boyfriend’s quick judgment. “I’ll tell you later.”

“Fine.” He gave you another quick kiss, unbuttoning his blazer. “What are they talking about?” He titled his head to the duo to your right.

“Tribute’s death.” You loop a finger around your necklace for a bit and then move your hand over to Coriolanus’ left shoulder, gently massaging as he tenses. “Are you feeling any better?”

He shrugs, “Hoping for everything to end today.”

You give his shoulder one last squeeze, “You better sit down. Flickerman looks like he’s gonna murder Festus for standing around.”

“I’ll talk to you later.” Coriolanus removed his arm from you and placed a brief kiss on your lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You reciprocate.

Truly, you found it strange that Coriolanus became more attentive and doting toward you recently. But who were you to complain about your boyfriend’s sudden increase in affection?

You took your seat as the screen flashed to Jessup and Lucy Gray down in the same spot from last time. You weren’t interested too badly until the male tribute moved to attack Lucy Gray. You weren’t expecting it, nor did everyone else watching as gasps emerged from the stands. Everyone was fixated on the screen as the camera switched to the main part of the arena, capturing the chase.

“Jessup, going for Lucy Gray.” Flickerman commentates, more gasps and murmurs coming from the stands inside the Citadel.

You shifted your gaze over to your right, watching Coriolanus converse with Lysistrata. You knew he was trying to talk his way into getting his tribute to survive, but you were silently hoping Jessup took out Lucy Gray. You weren’t one to wish death upon someone, but the little memory locked in a chest started to break open the more you thought about your father’s words. However, you knew Jessup was done for the second you caught Lysistrata giving in to Coriolanus’ efforts.

She sent a drone out with water, the glass smashing against the tribute’s chest which sent panic to course through his body. Everyone watched as he tried to balance, but he fell over the concrete ledge and promptly died, the buzzer indicating the time of death. You watched as your peer walked out of the room with a broken face, avoiding the eyes of her classmates.

Your eyes flickered back to the screen as you heard the crowd’s murmur increase in volume. Lucy Gray was surrounded by Coral and her group and it felt like she had lost the game as more donations started to roll in for the other tributes. There were positives and negatives to Lucy Gray’s life in the games. If Lucy Gray died now, you would be stuck with Festus. If she survived and won, you were sure you would be stuck with seeing red everywhere, even if you had Coriolanus to yourself.

And as if he heard your thoughts, Festus looked over at you and then to Coriolanus, watching both of your faces to find any change emotionally.

“Oh, look at this! The pack doing what they do best, packing it in!” Flickerman switches his gaze over to the mentors as he hears a computer switching keys. “Mr. Snow going for his community packages.”

You reach up for your necklace’s charm, watching as the horrid drones come pouring into the arena and smashing into the tributes. You were thankful that Dill was safe and away from the chaos that happened within a span of just a few minutes. If anything, you would rather have Dill stay hidden for the rest of the games and let everyone else fight for their lives.

“Hey! You can’t attack the tributes.” Vipsania stood from her seat, all heads turning toward her and then to Coriolanus.

“I’m just sending water.” Coriolanus shrugs, looking at you for a split second in amusement.

Honestly, you were on the verge of letting a small laugh out at his response. Of course, he used the drones to attack the tributes, but what they don’t know can’t hurt them, right?

Instead of looking back at the screen like the rest of your classmates did, you let your eyes train on Coriolanus. He was just so immersed in the live feed and you couldn’t help yourself. His tongue would slightly poke out and his eyebrows would furrow every couple seconds. It would have been cute if you weren’t mentoring the Hunger Games or if there wasn’t a buzzer just now.

When you said you were going to study with Coriolanus, you weren’t thinking that you were going to study for the next four hours after class ended. You studied for about thirty solid minutes before you started to lose focus.

You shifted your attention from the Latin textbook in your lap to the blond next to you. You smiled at the sight. He was focused on reading a passage in Latin that he didn’t realize his tongue was poking out with the scrunch of his nose and brows.

“Coryo.” You shifted from your spot on his bed, sitting up as he hummed. “Do you know you look like an angry kitten when you read?”

“Pardon?” He looked up at you, watching your eyes shine in delight.

“Well, you make a face that looks like an angry kitten whenever you focus on something…” You hide your face behind his shoulder, suppressing a short laugh. “Never mind.”

Coriolanus swore his heart skipped a beat at your laughter, falling deeper and deeper in love with you each day. “Beautiful, I won’t be compared to an angry kitten outside of this conversation.”

“Fine.” You bite back a smile as you peer up at him from your spot. “But I’ll be thinking about it whenever I see you do it. It’s cute.”

He felt the tips of his ear warm at your words, “It’s not cute.”

“It is.” You peck his cheek. “It so is. I’ll take a picture of it one day and print it for you.”

“Again, falling. Ending a tribute’s game.”

Your attention shifted back to the screen as Lucy Gray ran up into the fallen stands and into the air ducts. The second she locked herself in there, another buzzer went off moments later.

Coral killed one from her pack. Despite having an alliance together, she had zero hesitation to turn against someone to prove her worth and not let anyone get in her way.

“Seven tributes remain. Merciless Mizzen, cunning Coral, treacherous Treech. Dill, Reaper, of course, and the little ones. Little Wovey and Lucy Gray.”

You blew a small breath out, watching as Coral and her pack left to get Wovey. You felt bad for the poor girl, but you would rather have them after anyone else who wasn’t your own tribute. You shut your eyes for a moment, but you could sense something bad was about to happen with all the silence filling the room.

“And who do we have here? Ah, it’s ill Dill. Tuberculosis on legs.”

Your eyes immediately shoot open as you hear your tribute’s name being called. You wish she could have at least waited for Reaper to go with her out in the arena. She had no weapon, and it wasn’t practical to be in the Hunger Games without a weapon. You were just praying that no one would see her, hoping that she could get the water and go.

She looked around the arena before taking a sip from the water left by the pack. Dill placed it back down and coughed a fit, something that confused you. She was coughing a lot more than the other day. You creased your brows as she moved to lay down on the ground, continually coughing. You swore she was better before she entered the arena. And if she wasn’t, you gave her medicine to take during the games.

Coriolanus dropped his gaze down from the screen and glanced over to you, knowing the truth of what happened to the girl. He knew that your tribute already lost the games by drinking the water.

You watched as Reaper came running across the screen, shaking her awake before dread spread through your body as he flipped her over. He screamed, looking around the arena.

“No no no no no no.” You mumble, eyes glazed over. “How did that even—? No no no no no—“

The buzzer went off. Officially indicating the death of your tribute. You bit your tongue and left, not daring to look back at the screen where your tribute lay dead or meet your lover’s eyes which were burning into you.

You stepped out of the room and leaned against the wall, holding back sobs for the young girl. You promised yourself you would get Dill out, and you couldn’t even keep it. Mentoring the games increased your hatred for them, but the deaths of each tribute shot the hatred far past the point of return. You wiped stray tears that managed to get away from you, the tears darkening your red Academy uniform. You were about to head back to Lovett Manor when you heard someone clearing their throat beside you, making you freeze your movements. You saw Dean Highbottom waiting for you with what seemed like a videotape in his hand labeled: NIGHT 3, CAPITOL ZOO.

Fireworks went off in the early evening as Coriolanus entered one of the most important Capitol buildings. He was instructed that his tribute was waiting for him inside, but he still wanted to find you. You were not present when he won the Hunger Games and no one knew where you went.

Until now.

“Lucy Gray?” Coriolanus called out in the monumental room, the peacekeepers escorting him waiting by the front. “Lucy Gray?” He called one more time, voice echoing.

He slowly spun around looking at the table in front of him, the color draining from his face as he saw his father’s handkerchief and his mother’s compact. Albeit confused as to why a television was placed amongst them.

“Coriolanus.” Your own voice reverberated around the room, entering the room with your own pair of peacekeepers.

“Beautiful,” He loosened his tense shoulders, smiling at your presence. “Where were you? I—“

“I heard you won.” You frown, walking over to him. “Congratulations.”

He creased his brows at the way you carried yourself. It was different. “What’s wrong—“

“You cheated, Coriolanus.” You glance at the items laid across the table, tapping the videotape the dean gave you against your palm. “You know that’s against the rules.”

“Yes, but—“ Then he cut himself off as he noticed your puffy, bloodshot eyes. He knew were crying for a while if they had gotten to that state.

“You cheated.” You said again. This time, your voice trembled at the thought. “Was I ever going to know?”

Coriolanus kept quiet, waiting for you to continue. There was no way you knew about it… Right?

“Coriolanus, when?” You quickly wipe a falling tear, keeping your composure up.

“Never.” He spoke as he reached out to you. “But it was all for you! I don’t—“

You pull away from his touch, shoving the tape down onto the table. “Play the tape, Coriolanus.”

He sighed, taking the recording and putting it inside the slot, the television coming to life.

The video that was played was a recording from the Capitol Zoo. And according to the timestamp at the top, yesterday.

You couldn’t watch the screen even if you tried. You knew that if you did, there was no coming back from breaking down and sobbing for what seemed like the nth time today.

“Beautiful…” Coriolanus runs a hair through his hand, watching the tape. “That kiss with Lucy Gray meant nothing.”

Apparently watching it happen and hearing it coming from your lover’s mouth was entirely different because you snapped the second he mentioned those three words in one sentence.

“You kissed Lucy Gray, Coriolanus!” You yell, tears now free-falling from your face. His eyes widened at your tone, looking between your fiery eyes. “You kissed her so you could win! You manipulated the poor girl! You thought I wouldn’t find out about this? You gave her your mother’s compact filled with poison and it killed my tribute! It’s not—”

You took deep breaths, shutting your eyes as your heart slowly broke with each second passing he said nothing.

“Do you want to know why I was upset earlier, Coriolanus?” You quickly wipe a tear. “Because my father and Festus’ father agreed to let me wed Festus if you didn’t win. You won, but at what cost?”

He wanted to comfort you, but the second he touched you, it was all over. He knew that his touch would be unwelcome.

“You kissed Lucy Gray when you promised I was your top priority.” You disregarded the few tears that continued to pour out of your eyes. “You kissed her when you promised wherever we go, you stayed with me.” You bite your lip, looking down at the floor, almost whispering the next words. “You kissed Lucy Gray when we were together like I meant nothing to you.”

“Were?” Coriolanus questioned your use of the past tense to reference your relationship status. “What do you mean were?”

You flicker your eyes up to his, “As in we were together. Coriolanus, you cheated on me. And no, we can’t just fix this issue this time or forget about it. You could have come up with any other way of getting Lucy Gray to win, but you chose one that could hurt me…” You crease your brows at the inflection of your words. “And it did. You think you did the right thing, but choosing to kiss someone else to be with another is not how this works.”

“Beautiful…”

“I can’t.” You murmur, unclasping the necklace off of you and handing it over to him. “You can’t expect me to stay with you after you cheated on me. After you reassured me that you weren’t acting a certain way with Lucy Gray.”

He paled as the necklace fell into his palm, the weight of the silver burning his hand like the burden it was. “You know I never meant it like that. I wanted to win for you.”

“I know.” You gave him a bitter smile at the thought of your father’s deal, calming yourself from your earlier reactions.

Coriolanus wrapped his fingers around the hot necklace, watching you become more and more distant with him. “You know I love you, right?”

“I know.” You replied as the peacekeepers signaled for you to wrap it up. You let out a shaky breath as one last tear fell from your face, getting ready to leave before Highbottom came.

Coriolanus couldn’t help but wipe it off, causing you to frown at his cold touch. “Please.”

You take a hold of his hand, squeezing it. “Coriolanus… It’s not fair to myself.”

Before you could leave, Coriolanus pulled you into his arms, one hand holding your hip while the other held your back. He kissed the top of your head, “I’m sorry, beautiful.”

You choke back a sob that threatened to escape, bringing your hands to your mouth. You knew you had to leave, but it wasn’t like you could leave his embrace. It gave you comfort even if you didn’t want it from him. And he held you. After everything, you let him hold you tightly.

Everything was wrong. The wrong place at the wrong time. And the only thing that both you and Coriolanus felt as you left him was fallen snow melting on burning silver.

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[pettyprocrastination]

whoever this beloved anon was I am so touched by your kindness! You definitely didn’t have to do this but I am so happy you enjoy this idea and I will happily expand upon it for you!

this is just a collection of word vomit bullet points for the time being but I will happily answer any and all questions about this pair!!

warnings: violence, angst, child death (Sarah Miller), foul language, the same warnings that apply to tlou, reader is Sarah's mom and described as having similar features to her. 

So the general Idea is that you and Joel are happily married before the outbreak. 

You had been Sarah's mother, his high school sweetheart he got pregnant when neither of you were old enough to have any reaction to the pregnancy test other than a fucking panic attack in one another’s arms. but you made it work 

you both worked but made time for one another and your sweet girl, going to museums every other weekend and joel insisting on swooping you off for a date every now and then 

nothing special. He knows you’re more of a diner gal than anything too fancy that makes you both feel out of place. 

On his birthday in 2003, you had planned to tell him that you were pregnant again. But the memories of your own fears of motherhood from all those years ago begin to swirl through your head again and you get cold feel. deciding to tell him the morning after

it is his birthday afterall, you want to focus on him. 

but when you’re woken up in the middle of the night because tommy needs to get bailed out, Joel kisses you sweetly one last time before promising he’ll be back and you can’t shake the feeling that something bad is happening. 

its you that shakes sarah awake that night. shouting at her to put on her shoes when she’s still rubbing the sleep from her eyes because you’ve been listening to the radio for the past two hours, calling joel again and again and again praying for him to fucking pick up but to no avail. 

Sarah, bless your little girl’s bleeding heart is the one who insists you check on the adler’s against your better suspicions and when you find the eldest looming over her daughter, blood and sinew dripping from her mouth, you grab your daughter hand and burst into a full sprint until something slams into your back and sends you tumbling onto their front lawn

its how joel finds you, struggling to keep the once sweet old woman, whose now nothing more than dead eyes and gnashing teeth straining to snap at your pulse point as you push against her while sarah shrieks before your husband runs forward and cracks her skull with a wrench. 

there’s hardly a moment of pause, just enough for him to pull you up and into his arms before he’s ushering you both into the car with an urgency. 

when the truck crashes, you get separated from them. Perhaps at Tommy’s side when the flames rise and create a wall, separating you from your husband, or maybe pulled into the mob of chaos when trying to escape from those already infected-

all joel knows is that you promise you’ll find him: just get sarah to safety and you’ll meet him at the river

Poor thing is already so frightened, held in her father’s arms with tears streaming down her face insisting they can’t leave you they just can’t but her father kisses her forehead and reassures her its going to be okay 

“we just need to be brave, okay babygirl? Your mama’s real tough, she’s gonna be alright.” 

he isn’t sure if he’s saying it to his daughter or himself. 

but when he comes to the river you aren’t there. Only a soldier who points a gun at the scared little girl in his arms and then he loses everything

its when the light is gone from his daughter’s eyes that he realizes. His voice cracked and raw from sobbing that he looks around to see his brother with drawn in shoulders and tears in his eyes but his wife is nowhere to be found. 

Tommy says you got lost in the chaos. Everything was so loud, so sudden that he turned around and suddenly you weren’t there. 

Joel wants to go back but its Tommy that stops him, that dulls the red in his vision to a sad faded pink because his brother points at the orange horizon not too far from them, so much of the city is already in flames. 

“We’re gonna find her, but not there.” 

So Joel searches. for the first year spent in the world post-outbreak its all he did. 

He became a smuggler because of it. 

Information came at a price and he needed to be able to fucking pay it, whether it be in blood or ration cards. He was willing to do anything to find you or any thin thread that lead your way. 

But it’s Tommy that asks him to give up. Not in those words of course. 

The youngest Miller knows better than to say something so cruel that would make his brother, the only person he has in this world turn on him. 

But his voice is worried when he asks him one night in Boston when he hasn’t even had the chance to wash the blood from his knuckles 

“You think she would have wanted this for you?” 

the fight that followed his words was brutal. Vicious insults and scarred fists slamming against each brother until they're both too tired and bloody to continue. Each leaning against a wall for support and Tommy’s wavering voice breaking the silence. 

“I don’t know where she is, Joel. But I do know you're gonna get yourself killed if you keep lookin’ for her.” 

All he can do is nod. 

It’s a few days later when he meets Tess. Who has heard plenty of stories about the elder miller’s brutality and wants him to put that muscle to good use for some extra profit. 

It begins his new life. One that empty and cold but one he can live. 

Until of course, Ellie comes along. The sweet and incredibly opinionated girl that makes him become something akin to the man he thought died twenty years ago. 

its when he’s traveling with Ellie, that it happens. When a warm familiarity has settled between the two because so much blood and pain has been shared he can’t help but see her as something close, something bright even though all he can force himself to utter in her reference is “cargo” 

when theyre traveling through the woods as Ellie chatters away, probing his memory about a movie that may or may not have existed thirty years ago because her descriptions of the plot are incredibly odd he hears a voice shout for them to stop and finds himself staring at a man- no, a boy- pointing a gun at them. 

Ellie stills, but Joel can see enough to know that from the lanky figure and dimpled face that he’s young. Maybe twenty, twenty-two at the oldest, but his eyes dart from Joel to Ellie with a pinprick of fear that allows Joel the time to charge forward and slam him to the ground before wrestling the gun from his hands. 

He has enough to time to tuck it under the stranger’s chin before he hears the sound of the safety being turned off and finds himself looking up and seeing a gun just inches from his face. 

Joel’s head whips around when Ellie’s voice calls out his name in fear, he turns to see another stranger holding her a gun point, shoulders drawn back and a shadow cast over their face by the had obstructing their identity. 

“You hurt one of mine, I hurt one of yours. That a fair deal?” 

Its takes him a moment to recognize you. It’s been so long since he’s heard your voice, the sweet tease when you would poke at him each time he woke up late despite the fact that you reminded him to set his alarm the night before, the times you’d chide him with a harsh “Joel Miller!” whispered in public anytime he was able to grab you a bit too passionately to be appropriate in public but the laughter in your voice let him know you were never truly mad at him. You didn’t know how to be. 

But that sweetness is buried under a cold rasp that cuts through the air as you point a rifle at the scared little girl in front of you.

“You think I won’t?” You’re older now, skin covered in scars from a life he didn’t know you got the chance to live and your eyes are cold as they regard your husband. “Put the gun down and get the fuck off of him, I won’t repeat myself.” 

Joel mumbles your name in awe. The woman he loved, the woman he mourned the one he fought so hard to find stands before him like some sort of hallucination and suddenly the world feels like its spinning until you bark orders at him again. 

“You’ve got five seconds Joel, make a fucking choice before I make it for you.” 

He looks down and realizes the boy under him, the one with the bleeding nose and snarling face has your eyes and his dimples. 

“One.” 

The one above him has Sarah’s hair. Soft brown curls that shine under the sun. 

“Two”

Wait. No, they both do.

“Three.” 

Twins. Jesus fucking Christ you had twins. 

“Four.” 

Joel holds the rifle up above his head and the one boy standing snatches it from his grasp, tossing it to the ground and kicking it far from his reach. He slowly stands, allowing your son- dear god your son- to scramble to his feet. 

Your voice softens just for a moment. “You okay, Duke?” 

Blood stains the bottom half of his face from where Joel slammed his fist into the boy’s nose just moments before, but he nods nonetheless. 

Now, they both stand on one side of you and he can see the resemblance clear as day the same way he would whenever Sarah was by your side.

When you order him to hand over his bag, he does so without question before telling Ellie to do the same. 

She watches him with wide eyes, her hands still up in the air but gaping at her companion as if he had grown a second head. 

“Joel!” “Just do it, alright?”

He doesn’t miss the way you watch their interaction with narrowed eyes until she tosses her bag to you and you slowly lower your gun. 

“Now, you want to tell me what the fuck you think you’re doin’ at my home?” 

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #i had an idea of something similar for tommy but on outbreak night he uh. abandons you instead of getting separated from you #because. angst :D #people say nice things #this was incredibly generous of you anon thank you so so much! #i may get myself a little starbucks drink this week now because I havent had starbucks since like january 1st lol #joel reeling from taking in all this information and also realizing he suckerpunched HIS OWN KID #id like to apologize for all the grammatical issues with this. this is just a bulletpoint word vomit to get my thoughts on the page before- #-beginning the actual fic. also I have to do a midterm tonight and this is my treat to myself hehe #but yes. joel getting separated from his wife on outbreak night and having to accept that shes probably dead #meanwhile youve lived this entire life without him because you think HES dead ad raising your boys all on your own #which just- further digs into his insecurities about failing in his role as a protector #he couldn't save sarah. he can't save ellie and he couldn't even save you #he thinks about you pregnant and alone. fending for yourself in a world full of infected and raiders and his chest grows tight again #this is all followed by Ellie going >:O 'you KNOW THIS PSYCHO?'and then joel immediately snapping at her to WATCH HER MOUTH #because that kid has no filter and he has to explain that youre his wife #anyways joels wife is a badass mfer who also maybe has a little garden and some chickens that you and your boys take care of <3 yeah . #reunion tag #ill be using that for this specific couple because I dont have a fic title yet but if anybody has suggestions!