#there’s a lot more for me to stew on and That’s what makes a piece of media good to me… | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

joelscurls · 5 months

Text

a heart for melting

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

words: 2.7k

warnings: post-outbreak, implied age gap, themes surrounding child loss and grief, some angst but mostly festive fluff, grumpy x sunshine dynamics (Joel is a grinch & reader loves the holidays), reader is described as having long-ish hair

summary: Jackson's first annual Holiday Market brings about more than just cheer.

a/n: Merry Christmas @thetriumphantpanda; I'm your pedrostories secret santa! I hope you enjoy this lil festive take on grumpy!joel x sunshine!reader — I had lots of fun writing it 🤍🎄 🥧 🪵 🦌

Joel doesn’t want to be here — surrounded by garland and ribbons and so much unadulterated joy, it’s nauseating. No, he was forced to be here.

Please, Ellie had begged, it’ll be good for you to do something other than patrol or drinking with Tommy. Plus, they’re too good to keep to yourself.

They, being wood carvings — the tiny sculptures of deer and bears and birds, tufts of hair and bunches of feathers drawn out of driftwood with the tip of his blade. It was only ever meant to be a hobby, a way to busy his hands after they’d been wrapped around the cold metal of his rifle all day. Something lighter, creative rather than destructive, an act of giving rather than taking.

But sharing them with other people? He hadn’t been interested. Maybe he’d make one for Ellie or Tommy. Wrap it up in a piece of cloth and offer it as a gift for their birthday.

Not that he thought they were any good, really.

With the announcement of Jackson’s first annual Holiday Market, though, came Ellie’s pleading. “I’ll help you,” she’d bargained. “You don’t even have to give me anything!”

“Who said I would anyway?” he’d grumbled, digging his spoon into the bottom of his bowl of stew and sifting out a chunk of meat.

Joel despises the Holiday Season. He’d welcomed its disappearance with the end of the world. Because he had no reason to celebrate, with Sarah gone. Her absence stung like salt in an open wound on any normal day. But on Christmas, memories of her hanging her favorite ornaments on the tree and sneaking one of the cookies baked for Santa burned behind his eyelids. Left him heaving through hot tears.

The holidays had no place in his world, but they certainly had a place in Jackson. The first time he and Ellie had strode through those gates, they’d been met with that damned Christmas Tree, towering over the settlement like a beacon. And he hated it, hated the way it brought about that pounding in his chest and that spinning in his head.

How could anyone find any good in such a poignant reminder of loss?

Tommy says it’s about new beginnings, finding ways to be happy again. And what’s happier ‘n Christmas? God damn Santa Clause, hot chocolate, children singin’ carols?

Still, Joel isn’t convinced — not yet.

Standing across the mess hall, at your table piled high with baked goods, you are far too cheerful. You’re humming some song with a jovial beat, absentmindedly swaying as you rearrange rows of gingerbread and muffins and scones — all of which are draped in white icing, like flocking on Christmas trees. You pause to wish a happy holiday to everyone who passes through.

Joel knows he’s seen you before, flitting in and out of the community’s kitchen, always with that signature smile scrawled across your face.

And god, you’re so bubbly, taking to everyone you meet like a bee to honey, letting them in without a care in the world. Popping from table to table, making sure they have enough to eat. That they’re doing well.

It shouldn’t surprise him that you’re so…spirited, too. You seem to find the good in everyone and everything, after all.

It infuriates him, nonetheless.

Joel groans to himself. Stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jeans as an elderly couple rounds on him.

He grumbles a hello to them when they approach. They offer him half-smiles in return, beginning to pick up some of the carvings laid out on the table — turning them, inspecting them.

“This one’s nice,” the man says to his wife. She hums in agreement.

“You got any tigers?” the man asks.

“Tigers?”

“Yeah — I used to love ‘em as a kid.”

“Got what’s on the table,” Joel grumbles.

“You make ‘em custom? I can offer some homemade jam in return — elderberry.”

Joel sighs in annoyance.

“Don’t make ‘em custom. Got what I got.”

The man seems defeated, nodding and walking off without another word. The woman follows closely behind.

Just as they leave, Ellie appears. She sidles up to Joel and shrugs her jacket off. Pulls a chair up next to him.

“There’s so much cool shit here!” she exclaims, too loud. A judgemental set of eyes flit her direction. She glares right back at them.

“Do you mind?” Joel huffs, jaw ticking.

“Jesus, who pissed in your Cheerios?”

“How do you even know what Cheerios are?”

“Don’t,” she admits. “I read it in a book.”

“Of course you did.”

Ellie leans back in her chair, pulling an apple out of her backpack and biting into it. She shuffles some of the carvings around on the table. “Gotta fill in these gaps, man,” she says, juice dribbling down her chin.

Joel ignores her. He sneaks a glance at you; finds that you’re already looking. Your expression is unreadable, gaze unmoving as he studies you.

Despite your upbeat disposition bothering him, he can’t deny that you’re gorgeous: bright, beckoning eyes, siren-like smile — it’s like you’re peering into his soul.

He didn’t think he still had one of those.

“Dude.” Ellie nudges him. He peels his eyes from you reluctantly. “I asked how many takers you’ve had.”

“Uh.” He pretends to think.

“You have no fucking idea, do you? Too busy staring at that girl.”

“Wasn’t starin’,” he clips defensively.

“No? Well she’s coming over here, man.”

Sure enough, you’re striding right toward him, abandoning your post. Joel barely has time to prepare for impact.

He unconsciously straightens up and pulls his hands out of his pockets. He brushes them on his jeans just as you stop in front of his table.

“Hi there,” you say.

“Hi!” Ellie chimes.

You pick up a carving of a two-headed deer. His favorite.

“This is beautiful,” you coo. “The craftsmanship is lovely.” You’re running a finger along the grooves in the wood, holding the piece delicately in the palm of your hand — as if it’s made of glass, not wood. “You have a real gift…”

“Joel.”

“Joel,” you repeat. He ignores how sweet his name sounds coming out of your mouth. You tell him your name, and it fits you, he thinks. It’s pretty.

“How long have you been making them?”

“Just since I got to Jackson. ‘ts somethin’ to pass the time.”

You nod. Continue scanning over the intricacies of the deer. “I was never much of a baker before I got here, either,” you joke, gesturing back toward your table.

“Good one,” Ellie laughs. “You’re funny — isn’t she funny, Joel?”

In his head, he’s glowering at her. Outwardly, he feigns amusement.

“Real funny.”

“I’d love to see how you make these sometime,” you say, then, placing the deer back on the table gingerly. “Do you have a workshop?”

“In our shed,” Ellie pipes in before he can say anything. “You should come by tomorrow! Joel’s off patrol.”

He shoots her daggers. She pretends not to notice.

“I’d love that! I have to work in the kitchen, though. I could come by after?”

Joel starts to shake his head no. Ellie’s hand wraps around his arm like a vice grip. He stills.

“Sure,” he grits.

“I can bring some pastries, if you’d like.”

“Don’t like sweets.”

“Oh,” you say, a little thwarted, but you’re undeterred. You shift on your feet. Chew your bottom lip. “Well, how about something not sweet, then?”

Your brows lift, narrowed eyes on him as you await a response. Joel still isn’t thrilled about the prospect of a visitor. Really, he doesn’t like anyone on his property that isn’t Ellie, or Tommy and Maria if he’s invited them. But you don’t seem so bad, offering to bring him food.

He can probably deal with your sunny disposition in exchange for a full belly. Lord knows he went too long without that luxury, and he’d be a fool to deny himself of it ever again.

So, he agrees, the garbled sure less than enthusiastic leaving his mouth. Still, you don’t seem too offended. In fact, you smirk at him, wordlessly sauntering back to your table, sneaking glances at him every so often for the remainder of the afternoon.

Sure enough, the next evening, while Joel is whittling in the shed, you show up.

You’re wielding a basket of savory hand pies, as promised, and Joel has to stop himself from drooling. They smell incredible. And they’re still warm, somehow, steam wafting off of them even after your walk here.

“Come in,” he gruffs, his nose following the scent like a dog’s as he trails behind you inside.

His set up is minimal: a rocking chair next to a bench, a couple stools he made for when Tommy comes by to play poker. But his works are scattered throughout, every surface in the small room cluttered with little carvings.

He settles atop one of the stools as you begin to wander around the room, plucking sculptures off shelves and awing at them with such genuine admiration, it causes something to pull in his chest.

Every so often, you make a remark about the details in a piece, how the fur on the deer looks real, how you can practically smell the replica evergreen in your grasp.

And something shifts — carried by your kind words through the stuffy shed.

Taken by the slight lilt in your voice when you speak to him, the almost-shy smile that pulls at the corners of your lips — Joel is attracted to you.

He’s following the line of your neck down to your collarbone, ogling at the exposed skin there when you pick another carving up off the shelf. And he feels guilty — he shouldn’t be looking at you like this. You’re just being nice, being neighborly, and he’s gawking at you like you’d have any interest in him.

No; you’re young, beautiful, could do a lot better than an old grump like him.

He averts his gaze quickly when you suddenly set down the tiny, carved bird that had been in your palm, round the workbench and perch yourself atop the stool next to his. You retrieve a handpie out of the basket and pass it over to him.

“It has braised rabbit and carmelized onions in it,” you explain, taking a bite and letting the steam roll out.

He follows suit and — it tastes just as good as it smells, if not better. He’s salivating again, letting the dough melt in his mouth before swallowing.

The two of you eat in comfortable silence, getting through the entire basket in mere minutes.

When you’re finished, you ask him where he’s from.

The question shouldn’t feel like such a shock to the system. But after a year of being in Jackson, successfully avoiding conversation about his life before the outbreak, it sets off a panging between his eyes, a dull ache in his viscera.

“Texas,” he tells you plainly. “From Austin, originally.”

You nod. And you must be able to tell that he’s not used to talking about himself — by the tick of his jaw or the lack of eye contact — he’s not sure. Because you don’t pry. Instead, you say, “you can ask me something.”

He nods. Thinks on it for a moment.

“When did you arrive here? To Jackson?”

Unlike him, you do not grimace at the intrusion. Instead, you tell him: about your parents, their untimely deaths, the harrowing road that led you here. You do not cry, but Joel can see the pain in your shiny eyes.

It’s inevitable; there isn’t a single person here who hasn’t been dealt a bad hand. But you wear your past like a badge of honor, like you’re still grateful, after it all, to be alive.

Joel envies your tenacity.

So when you ask him about Ellie, if she is his daughter, he lets the walls around him down — just an inch. He doesn’t get upset when he stumbles over his words while telling you about Sarah. He finds comfort in confiding in you, in the way you so attentively listen, quietly nodding along as he recalls his version of the end of the world.

“Thank you,” you say when he’s done, burying his hands back in his pockets.

“For what?”

“For sharing that with me. I know it can be difficult to relive it.”

“I relive it everyday,” he admits. “Everything reminds me of her in one way or another.”

“I understand,” you nod. He believes you do.

So sweet, gaze like honey, you are an enigma to him. He hasn’t met many people who are kind just for the sake of it — not in a long while. Maybe that’s why he’d been so bothered by it at the market. It had felt almost unnatural to him, bound to be laced with an ulterior motive.

He’s still learning how to trust people again. It doesn’t come easily after twenty-odd years of rationing it like the pills he’d stowed. Still, there is something innate about baring his soul to you. Letting you in through the cracks in his battered being. You are safe, he’s sure of it; benevolence radiating from you like warmth.

It drips off your tongue when you ask him to show you how he does his craft — slips down your fluttering lashes. No longer can he deny you of anything — he’s accepted this swiftly — and so he obliges.

A half-whittled fox materializes from his coat pocket, along with his blade. He passes both to you and pulls his stool closer to yours.

He guides you, taking your hand in his, encouraging the press of the blade into the wood. Shows you how to round out a corner with a subtle twist of the knife. You’re a fast learner, Joel notes, attentive, taking every instruction like gospel.

The slow drag of steel, your fingers wrapped tightly around the handle; you’re so focused that you jump slightly when he places a reassuring hand on your knee.

“Doin’ great, darlin’,” he says, and your lips pull around pearlescent teeth. Joel feels as enraptured by you as you do the carving — the loose tendrils of hair that drape over your shoulder, the clinging of cotton to your soft curves. Though he hardened into stone a long time ago, he feels smelted in your presence. So he cannot help it when his fingers begin to drift up your leg, settling at your side as he turns his body toward yours.

The blade stalls, tip still stuck into the wood, puncturing the fox’s non-existent spine, and your face lifts.

“Is this okay?” he whispers. You nod, gaze flickering between his eyes and his lips.

You’re so close like this; Joel can smell the floral perfume dappled along your neck, can feel your warm breath fanning his face. He has half a mind to stop himself from sealing the sliver of distance left between you. But then you’re sighing, placing the blade and the wooden fox on the tabletop. And it’s your turn to guide him — winding your delicate fingers around his wrist and settling his hand at the small of your back.

The air in the tiny workshop grows heavy with unspoken desire, a longing to disrupt; to create. Your body forms to his languidly, arms interlocking behind his neck, fingers weaving in his hair to pull him closer to you. And then your lips press to his — hesitant at first, then not. You drink from each other until you are drunk, breathless and giddy when you separate.

“That was nice,” you whisper, and Joel chuckles.

“Just nice?”

“Great,” you amend. “It was great. Better than I imagined, even.”

“You imagined this?”

“Yes,” you smirk. “On a loop since I first saw you at the market.”

He pulls you back in. Gives you another chaste kiss. “For good measure.”

“Joel,” you say then, “will you and Ellie come by mine on Christmas? I could even cook — it’s just-”

“Yes,” he’s accepting before you can finish. “I’d love that. As long as you make more of those,” he gestures toward the empty basket on the workbench.

“That can be arranged,” you grin.

As soon as you leave that evening — sent off with a goodbye muttered between slotted mouths — Joel starts on your Christmas present.

end notes: thank you for reading! Please consider reblogging or leaving a comment if you enjoyed <3

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller oneshot #joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal as joel miller #pedro pascal #pedrostoriesgift23 #pedrostories

435 notes · View notes

allur1ngs · 6 months

Text

✮ colder hearts ✮

TW: mentions of violence, guns, typical mafia activities, arranged marriage (what can i say, i'm a sucker for tropes), age gap--bada is in her mid to late twenties and reader is in her early-ish twenties, bada speaks pretty formally bcs in this au i feel like she'd be extremely professional even when it comes to her loved ones, not edited bcs i got too excited and wanted to put this out asap so please ignore any mistakes

SUMMARY: your arranged marriage to older!cold!mafia boss!bada lee unfolds, revealing that there's more than just ice behind her cold heart.

part ii. enflame

WC: 1.9k

A/N: a lot of thoughts have been stewing in my mind thanks to @beetlejuicyy 's awesome mafia!bada content, + isabel larosa's song older!! this is just for fun!

DISCLAIMER: all characteristics portrayed are purely speculation and fiction, they are not meant to reflect bada's actual character, values, or attitudes. please keep this in mind!!

OLDER!COLD!MAFIA BOSS!BADA who, despite being older than you, is still considered too young to be a leader in the mafia business, which had initially made her a target of turf wars.

OLDER!COLD!MAFIA BOSS!BADA who, despite all odds, won every single one of the battles because of her cunning strategies and equally talented members.

OLDER!COLD!MAFIA BOSS!BADA who becomes known for her cutthroat and merciless deals. She might be younger in the mafia scene, but she proved her commitment to her business when she had one of her lackeys killed for fumbling a job.

OLDER!COLD!MAFIA BOSS!BADA whose engagement to you comes as a surprise. Having known nothing about your parent's business beyond the large amounts of money they made, you were shocked to find them sitting across from the infamous Bada Lee, the leader of the mafia crew, Bebe.

OLDER!COLD!MAFIA BOSS!BADA who has an undeniable, powerful presence. Even her simply sitting on the polished leather seats in your living room had you intimidated. Her blank stare sweeping across your entire being in mere seconds, boring her dark brown--almost greyish eyes into yours, never breaking eye contact for a second. there's a clear hierarchy in this room, and it's clear to everyone you're at the bottom of it.

OLDER!COLD!MAFIA BOSS!BADA who, along with your parents, spare no time explaining her sudden appearance. words echo in the golden-trimmed room at impossible speeds, words like "marriage", "business deal", "protection", "money" deafen your ears and cause your skin to prick up.

OLDER!COLD!MAFIA BOSS!BADA who speaks to you then, her calculating eyes noticing the lost look in your own.

"We are going to be wed." She cuts through the jabbering voices of your parents, immediately causing them to fall silent. "I will provide you with a lifestyle grander than you could ever imagine, and your parents and I will secure a firm partnership as a result."

You remain silent only for a brief moment. "And what will you gain from this arrangement?"

Bada's lips form a thin line. It's not as if she hadn't expected you to speak up, but your question mildly surprises her. "Your parent's partnership..." she trails off for a moment, her sharp eyes finding your parent's figures, then sliding back to yours. "and your companionship."

OLDER!COLD!MAFIA BOSS!BADA who makes it clear to you when you move into her personal home--or more accurately--mansion, that you are not a piece of meat to her, or a body to warm her bed.

"I asked your parents to inform you of our arrangement beforehand." She stands tall before you, her black suit crisp and free from wrinkles as her long, thin fingers come to pinch the bridge of her nose in mild annoyance. "But it's clear to me from your demeanor when we first met that you were not." She sighs quietly, then removes her fingers from her nose bridge. She watches you silently before approaching you in long strides, now standing inches away from you. "You are under no obligation to stay with me. Say the word and you will be returned to your parents, and our union will be resolved. No consequences, no questions asked."

Despite knowing her for such little time, her words surprise you. The way she speaks to you is gentle, yet stern.

You're thrown for a loop. Just who is Bada Lee?

OLDER!COLD!MAFIA BOSS!BADA who, despite being confident in what she can provide first you, is surprised when you turn down her offer to return to your parents. It seems your union will remain intact.

OLDER!COLD!MAFIA BOSS!BADA who shows you her professionalism when laying out what is expected of you.

"There are only three things I ask of you while you stay with me." She holds up three corresponding fingers in the air. "One, you must never lie to me."

Her finger drops as she uses her other hand to gesture to the rest of her crew who stand behind her.

"Everyone in this room is here because they have never once lied to me in their life." She explains. "Truth is something I value more than anything, so I promise to never lie to you. Of course, I expect the same from you."

"What about little white lies?" You cut in.

"White lies mean nothing to me." Bada dismisses. "But never lie to me about something important."

The next rule she declares seems easy enough.

"Number two, loyalty." She places another finger down. "Pretty self-explanatory."

You nod absentmindedly, trying to ignore how every moment you remain in the room with Bada and her crew, you become more and more nervous.

"The last and the most important," Bada leans over her sleek desk, her eyes lowering while she stares at you. "do not put yourself in unnecessary danger. You are under my care now, so your health and safety is my first priority. Never compromise them."

OLDER!COLD!MAFIA BOSS!BADA who sets firm boundaries with you.

"I want to make it clear to you that despite our wedding in the future," Bada licks her lips, her hands clasping together in front of her in a firm position. "I will not fall in love with you."

Your expression quickly twists into a look of confusion. Companionship, she had said.

"Feelings make business more difficult. Makes it harder for me to protect you." She says flatly. "I am more than happy to be another acquaintance of yours, or someone you cast aside while you enjoy the fruits of the lifestyle I can provide you."

"I like neither of those options." You respond somewhat bitterly. When you were told you'd be engaged, you expected for there to be at least some semblance of feelings between you and your betrothed. A lifetime of coldness and solitude was not something you signed up for.

"Then," Bada’s cold demeanor slips for a second, and if you weren’t paying so much attention to her in that moment, you would have missed it. “we can be friends."

And for the first time, you see her lips settle into a half smile.

OLDER!COLD!MAFIA BOSS!BADA who immediately gives you a card with funds for you to spend wherever you want, and whenever you want.

OLDER!COLD!MAFIA BOSS!BADA who assigns one of her most trusted and talented members to be your bodyguard. When she said your safety was her priority, she wasn't lying.

OLDER!COLD!MAFIA BOSS!BADA who's surprised when you come to visit her the following morning, carrying a tray of breakfast foods.

"Good morning." She greets you, her eyes quickly moving from the food in your hands to your eyes. You’ve noticed that Bada loves making eye contact when she speaks to you.

"Good morning." You greet back. Although the smile on your lips doesn’t fully reach your eyes, you’re trying your best to stay positive. You never know, your friendship with the mafia boss before you could end up being beautiful.

"And to what do I owe the pleasure of your visitation?" Her words fall from her lips in a soft cadence, careful to make sure her tone doesn’t make it seem like she’s bothered by your presence.

Which is strange, she realizes. She hates being disturbed in the morning. It’s when her best ideas come to her.

"I thought," you begin while placing the breakfast tray in front of her. "if we are going to be friends, we might as well get to know each other."

Bada’s lips form a smirk as she leans back into her chair, her legs spreading apart.

"And…" you smile at her. "I heard you hadn’t eaten breakfast yet."

OLDER!COLD!MAFIA BOSS!BADA who allows you to stay in her office for as long as possible, trying to convince herself that it's not because she's entranced by how you smile brightly at her when she engages in conversation with you, or how you cover your mouth to laugh at something she's said. No, it's definitely not because of that.

OLDER!COLD!MAFIA BOSS!BADA who starts to look forward to your morning visits. When she's particularly busy and you have to cut your conversation short, she feels a weight lift off her shoulders the second her eyes scratch your figure walking down the halls of your shared home, your bodyguard following after you diligently.

OLDER!COLD!MAFIA BOSS!BADA who tells your bodyguard to only take you to stores that are managed by her partners. She knows they'd never hurt you. You're her bride-to-be, after all.

OLDER!COLD!MAFIA BOSS!BADA who's in a particularly boring business meeting when she receives a call from your bodyguard on her personal phone. Her eyebrows immediately shoot up, a frown settling on her lips. She only receives calls from her personal phone when there's an emergency.

OLDER!COLD!MAFIA BOSS!BADA whose heart drops when she hears your bodyguard shout into the phone that a rival gang had decided to have a shootout in the area where you'd been shopping for groceries.

OLDER!COLD!MAFIA BOSS!BADA who in a panicked, yet stern and chilly voice tells your bodyguard to protect you at all costs while she calls for backup.

OLDER!COLD!MAFIA BOSS!BADA who breaks multiple laws to speed to the grocery store, practically throwing herself into a street with bullets flying everywhere and broken glass littering the floor. She doesn't care. She runs into the store, shouting your name before ducking behind a turned-over shelf.

OLDER!COLD!MAFIA BOSS!BADA who breathes a sigh of relief when she hears you call out to her, your bodyguard shooting at a rival gang member that was about to enter the store. She rushes over to you, using her body to block you from the onslaught outside the store.

"Are you okay?" Bada's wide eyes find yours, then sweep over your body, looking for any injuries. "Are you hurt?" Her hands come to clutch the sides of your face, only pausing for a second when she sees a semi-long cut running along the soft skin of it.

"I'm fine." You breathe, your hands resting on top of hers. "Just surprised--"

"You're hurt." The way she says the words breaks your heart. It's like she'd been the one wounded, with how her eyes turn to large, sad pools, and her frown tugs down even further.

You flinch, one of your hands moving from hers and coming up to touch the cut on your cheek. "I didn't even notice--"

Before you can finish your sentence, Bada had already leaned in, her plush and soft lips pressing a gentle kiss onto the skin next to your wound.

When she pulls away you're stunned by her loving gesture, but neither of you is able to say anything before she quickly gathers your body into her arms, and cradles you close like she's scared of losing you.

OLDER!COLD!MAFIA BOSS!BADA who doesn't hesitate to dispose of anyone who threatens to harm you.

OLDER!COLD!MAFIA BOSS!BADA who after that incident, only refers to you as her fiancée. Not as a form of endearment--of course not--but just as a form of respect to your upcoming union.

OLDER!COLD!MAFIA BOSS!BADA who with every passing day, finds it harder to fight the warmth she feels when her eyes take in your form.

OLDER!COLD!MAFIA BOSS!BADA who'd fallen in love with you the day she'd met you, despite how hard she tried not to.

#bada lee x reader #bada x reader #bada lee #bada #street woman fighter 2 x reader #swf2 x reader

629 notes · View notes

thejujvtsupost · 6 months

Note

Hello, I am a first timer here. I would like to humbly request something. Can I please request for a Platonic Nanami and adopted daughter reader. The reader is not used to a normal environment and they are used to fighting and surviving

Girl Dad Transformation

I’ve been stewing over this so hard bc it’s been giving me the cutest ideas!!!! And ofc Yuuji is so big brother coded here.

Notes: F!reader, brotherly!Yuuji, Nanami and his adopted daughter 🥺. That’s it.

Nanami didn’t think about the long term impact of adopting the orphaned sorcerer. Surely he wouldn’t change that much…

All he knew was there was a 5 year old girl clutching her only toy- a stuffed bear, who could see ‘scary monsters’ and no longer had any family, thanks to the curse that was tormenting humans for fun; he was just a little too late.

The poor thing was terrified. In the blink of an eye his hand was seized by a freezing, much smaller one with a death grip.

Nanami got you looked at by Shoko and you refused to let go of him the entire time. By the looks of it, you were malnourished and you frequently got injured from curses. Your home life was fairly unstable too, financial issues and absent-detached parents. Shoko got a lot more information from you than he ever expected, piecing together some of your history from your seemingly unrelated answers, as children do.

“She’s going to have to stay for observation, probably several weeks until we can get her healthy enough. She’s going to need a special diet too, I haven’t seen a case this bad in a long time and she’s too young for cursed energy.”

His heart was crushed for you, when was the last time you had somewhere stable? “Why are you telling me?”

“You found her, she’s clearly attached to you and you know you can’t turn away now. You look at her like she’s Itadori. It’s just until I can find a place for her at a home or foster.” Shoko never fails with her dead pan demeanor and sass.

She was also right.

He looked back at you, you were passed out in your hospital bed covered by several blankets and hugging your bear. Finally, you were warming up. Finding you a home could take months if you went to a foster or orphanage… “Don’t bother,” he swallowed thickly, “I will adopt her.”

Shoko’s face softened further, “You can’t go back on it, you already earned her trust. If you’re really sure then I think this will be good for both of you.”

He did his best to be at your bedside when he could, and you were quiet but clearly in need of comfort. Your favorite thing to do was have him read to you with cartoons on a low volume in the background. “Nami, book?” Nanami picked up a book off the stack Shoko brought and started reading. No complaints, and after the first few days he didn’t bother hiding his smile anymore.

He spent a fortune on converting his spare bedroom into yours. He didn’t even know what 5 year olds liked, but according to the first years and Shoko, he needed to make sure you had various toys (he bought everything Yuuji pointed out to him- Yuuji definitely went overboard but Nanami didn’t stop him), clothes and of course you’d need signed up for school.

When the adoption was final and he brought you home for the first time, he was thoroughly instructed how to parent by then, he was ready.

You… weren’t. Not yet. You didn’t know that your room was yours. All the toys and clothes, everything was yours. ‘Nami’ kept the ‘scary monsters’ away too…

“Hey it’s okay honey, I know it’s a big change.” He wiped the tears from your chubby cheeks and smiled softly. “You belong here, you’re safe now.”

A grown up was taking care of you, for good this time.

It was a journey every day but worth it as you came out of your shell, and he encouraged you with a gentle hand. Of course there were setbacks too. He wasn’t perfect, he definitely wasn’t good at laundry at first.

He was new to parenting and it was exhaustingly difficult to navigate yet he was completely whipped for you, never turning down a tea party or invitation to watch cartoons together. He became a complete girl dad overnight.

All it took was, “Nami! Play!” And he’d be on the floor in the living room playing with the doll you handed him.

You started eating more, even requesting different meals when he asked what you were in the mood to eat. “Nami, can we have soba?”

Nanami couldn’t say no to you. “Soba sounds great.” He’d have the softest smile on his face too.

You played more often, and eventually made friends! Yuuji claimed the title as your first friend but you were encouraged to make more- he helped you practice asking your classmates about themselves and how to invite them to play with you.

And Nanami… he never forced you to call him dad. He loved you more than he ever thought possible. He was always proud to call you his daughter, bragging about your excellent kindergarten grades and your recent achievement of becoming the line leader at school for the week.

But the first time you did happened a month in, while doing your bedtime routine and picking out a night night story. Instead of ‘Nami’ he was gifted: “Daddy, can you read the star book?” He let out a tear and hugged you tight.

Nanami tucked you in, kissed your forehead and sat on the edge of your bed, “Yeah honey, I’ll read you the star book.”

Thinking about making a request? Check my bio to see if they’re open and stay tuned <3

433 notes · View notes

justporo · 8 months

Text

Because I don't have enough ideas yet, I challenged my bf to give me an out of pocket writing prompt (I was way too deep in my head today so far, so I wanted a mood change). So here is what he came up with:

Scratch ate some piece of jewellery and now Tav and Astarion have to find a fantasy vet (Halsin, it's gonna be Halsin)

So here goes nothing:

Pairing: Astarion/GN!Tav (You) Wordcount: 2k

Saving the Dog in Distress

The troupe had been sitting together by the campfire enjoying the stew Gale had cooked for tonight while the wizard had kept complaining that the artifact you had handed him for his more specific hunger had disappeared without a trace. “Maybe you’re just trying to hoard up all the artifacts behind your back and this is your way to make Tav give you even more”, Astarion had quipped. “Or – even more likely – you simply forgot you already sucked up all the magic because you do too many things at a time”, Karlach had offered as an alternative. Gale had looked angrily at the both of them while you had simply shrugged and promised to try and get him something else tomorrow.

Afterwards the party had disbanded and everyone had been going about their own stuff.

Since Astarion’s confession about his feelings for you, it had become a custom for you and the vampire to snuggle up in his tent come nighttime and spend the night together with trivialities before you laid down for rest together. You usually talked a lot, used the time to get to know each other better, fulfilled some chores (Astarion had - albeit reluctantly - become the camp’s seamster and you the group’s navigator and cartographer) or you just read something together.

Tonight, Scratch had joined you when you had sauntered over to the vampire’s tent to settle down with Astarion for the night. That had significantly soured the pale elf’s mood from his usual grin when he had seen the two of you sauntering over. But you deeply adored the sweet stray which the vampire knew and so Astarion had accepted his fate that the dog would join your cuddle session tonight.

And so, the three of you laid all snuggled up: Astarion on his back, head on a pillow, one arm was holding you and caressing your back as you were snuggled up to his side and head on his chest. His other hand was holding a book in which he tried to read but he was frequently getting distracted by how Scratch was laying on his other side and kept squirming around when you kept petting him.

The dog was now laying across the vampire’s chest and stomach so he could lick your face while you tried to stop him from doing that. When Scratch jumped up excitedly and forcefully landed with his front paws on Astarion’s solar plexus, the vampire “hmpf”ed when all air was driven out of his lungs.

“Alright, the two of you will have to behave now or the vampire is going to put a leash on you – the both of you”, Astarion hissed although you could hear a little bit of a chuckle in his threat. “Don’t promise what you can’t fulfill”, you teased him back and smirked at him naughtily. The vampire looked at you in annoyance while you just chuckled.

You lifted your upper body up so you could lean over him and give him a short but sweet kiss. He immediately grabbed the back of your head softly and deepened the kiss. But when you moved in closer a sudden yelp stopped you. Still leaning over Astarion you turned your head to Scratch who was suddenly sitting in the far corner of the tent, ears drooping, tail basically between his legs and heaving as if he was about to throw up.

The vampire immediately pushed up from his laying position: “Oh no no no, the dog is not going to barf inside my tent! Take him outside!” You crawled over to the white dog who was still desperately heaving and had started howling miserably.

“What is it, Scratch?”, you softly whispered to the stray and reached out to him but the dog winced and turned away even further. “Please, love, take him outside”, Astarion pleaded with you after he had changed into a sitting position. “I can’t if he doesn’t want me to. I think he’s in pain”, you replied and reached out to the dog again.

This time he let you touch him, but he still whimpered as you touched him softly. “Well, don’t you have a spell for this type of situation”, the vampire suggested. You threw him a confused look then remembered that he was right of course. You mumbled the incantation to be able to speak with animals then softly addressed the yelping pup: “What’s wrong, Scratch? Are you hurting?”

“Tummy hurts”, he blurted out. “Can’t get it out.” He was dry heaving again and a shudder moved through his whole body. Astarion came up next to where you knelt. He did not repeat his request to you but instead now actually looked kind of worried himself.

“What can’t you get out? Scratch, did you eat something you weren’t supposed to?”, you carefully asked the dog again who was panting hard. “Oh shit”, you heard Astarion let out under his breath next to you. Oh no, you both probably had had a similar thought.

“Shiny thing the wizard had”, Scratch spat out in between full body shivers. “Thought it was a treat, but it was really tough and not tasty at all”, he continued to explain.

“Oh by the Nine Hells, the dog ate the fucking magical artifact”, Astarion moaned and leaned back on his feet from his kneeling position and burrowed his face in his hands while lifting his face up to the sky. Scratch started to whimper guiltily at the vampire’s accusation. “I’m sorry, friend”, he sobbed and kept shivering, his ears drooping even more now.

When you tried to reach for him to check his stomach but he immediately withdrew and let out a howl of pain. “We need to get him to Halsin, he probably has an idea how to help him”, you said more to Astarion than to the dog. The vampire’s brows had furrowed deeply – obviously he cared more about the dog then he let on. “Should I wake the druid and get him over here?”, he asked but you shook your head. “No, we need to get Scratch out of the tent first, I guess. No way your tent will stay in one piece if you let the seven feet druid in here to deal with a majorly hurting dog”, you gave back and looked at the vampire begging.

Astarion pressed his mouth into a line – no way to argue with that logic. “Please help me, with him, Astarion. You’re stronger than me, can you carry him? I’ll go ahead and wake Halsin up!”, you explained your plan and were already scurrying out of the tent while the vampire was too stunned to reply quickly enough.

Scratch was now silently whimpering and made big sad puppy eyes at the vampire. Astarion stared at him a moment longer before he sighed in defeat. “Please don’t bite me. I’d rather not be on the receiving end”, he murmured and crawled closer to the dog whose tail started to wag weakly despite the pain he was in.

Carefully, Astarion tried to scoop up the large dog into his arms. The dog yowled but obviously heeded the words of warning by the vampire, understanding that he was about to receive help, and tried to hold still. Once the stray was in the elf’s arms Astarion awkwardly crawled out of his tent.

You had run over to where Halsin had been meditating and had quickly woken him up and started to explain what had seemingly happened to the druid who was still only half in the waking world. Once he had caught onto your meaning he had quickly gotten up and started to rummage through his stuff while mumbling about what might be the best to do in this kind of situation.

While the druid was busy you stood around anxiously before you turned around to see Astarion approaching.

For a second or two your heart stopped and your jaw dropped. There he was carrying the poor animal in his arms over to you, his hair still perfect, one curl falling into his face playfully, the muscles on his naked forearms tensed while carrying the large dog. For a second there Astarion almost looked like the perfect fairytale prince. Despite the situation you positively swooned.

You kept staring as the vampire came over and carefully set down the patient. Halsin thanked Astarion by grabbing his elbow for a second and smiling warmly at him. Then the druid got to work. With a calm voice he talked to the dog who immediately seemed much more relaxed in the druid’s presence.

Astarion came over to you: “Judging by the look you gave me I should save more animals, shouldn’t I? You were almost barking yourself.” At first you wanted to humour him but then you decided to only roll your eyes at him while he kept smirking. “Way to ruin every good thing you’ve ever done, Astarion.”

You kept watching how Halsin tended to Scratch. He was mumbling some incantation and shortly after the dog heaved again and again until something sparkly came out of him. And it was – the amulet that had been missing and was actually meant for Gale! The dog heaved one final time then shook himself and sank down on the floor again, his tail was lazily wagging again though.

Halsin happily grabbed the dog by his ears and gave him a big smooch. The druid seemed positively giddy that he had saved Scratch from his pain. He turned to you grinning: “Good thing the two of you acted so quickly. I guess our canine friend will have a stomach ache for some time longer but with some of my special porridge and a lot of water he should be his happy, tail-wagging self again very soon.” He beamed at you – it was obvious that helping creatures in need was one if not the greatest joy in life for the towering elven druid.thethe

You beamed back, it was hard not to feel warm and happy around the druid’s positive and kind aura. And you could swear even Astarion had let out a relieved sigh. “Thank you, Halsin”, you said and stepped in for a quick hug with the much taller druid.

“No need, this is my purpose. Now, I will take care of our friend and I guess the two of you will want to get back to resting”, Halsin answered and squeezed you. You stepped back and grabbed Astarion’s hand, ready to do as the druid had said.

“Wait – what am I supposed to do with this now?”, Halsin said, so you turned around once more. He was pointing at the magical amulet that formerly had been for Gale. It was full of dog spit and also probably some of Scratch’s previous meals. You couldn’t help but make a disgusted face.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll take care of it”, Astarion immediately answered with a mischievous sparkle in his red eyes. You were sure he was up to no good, but you let him do as he wished. But to your surprise he went back to his tent and only returned after a minute or two, carrying a small piece of paper. Then he grabbed the very wet amulet while gagging and making a face and snuck over to Gale’s tent.

He lifted the flap ever so silently and obviously placed the amulet back with his original owner. You watched Astarion close Gale’s tent again and he came back snickering. “What have you done, Astarion?”, you asked but still grabbed his arm to walk back to the vampire’s tent.

“Oh nothing, just returned the artifact to the supposed owner”, he replied with a wink and gave you a quick kiss.

The next morning the whole camp woke to the wizard screaming: “WHO OF YOU JESTERS DID THIS?”

He had woken up to find the amulet full of dog barf next to him on his pillow. Under it was a small note that said:

“Sowwy, I ates your treat, sir wizard. It was nat very tasty, you can has it bak now! XX Scratch”

410 notes · View notes

daichiduskdrop · 10 months

Text

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚⋆·˚ ༘ *𝙎𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡 ⋆·˚ ༘ *ੈ✩‧₊˚

Chapter 10

Pairing: BTS Ot7 X fem! reader

Genre: A/B/O AU, Fluff, Angst, Strangers to lovers,

Warnings: none!

Words: 3668

A/N: 10 chapters in!! :0 Thank you so much for all the support with this story :)) I value you a lot.

Taglist: @thelilbutifulthings @ilovemoneymorethenmen @singukieee @cherrysainttt @felicityroth @mageprincess7 @lucis-noctiana @danielle143 @osakis-gf @girl-nahh @vintageoldfashion @neverthefirstchoice @juju-227592 @silentreadersthings @i-have-no-life-charlie @everyonehatesshani @iamkookiesforyou @dragons-flare

⋆·˚ ༘ *ੈ✩‧₊˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ *

Blushing at what the alpha said, you slurped up a bit more of the stew. There were a few greens and vegetables in it, and with quite a bit of kimchi that was cut into bite-size pieces, the meal had a strong flavour.

The broth tasted a little like seafood but was also meaty, and it was just good. You enjoyed the meal.

„Babycheeks, here have some of this. It's good for you.” Taehyung said, chopsticks already right in front of your mouth. Biting into the daikon, you let the crunchy vegetable calm your slightly burning mouth.

Humming softly, you nodded at his watchful eyes. „It's nice; thank you, Tae.” Smiling at you widely, the alpha softly patted your head.

„Is the stew too spicy, princess?” The other alpha asked, noticing how your nose scrunched up a little with every other bite. You didn't want to seem disrespectful towards them; they prepared a meal for you so nicely, and you didn't want to seem ungrateful.

Smiling a little, you were just about to shake your head before you were interrupted.

„It definitely is, isn't it, Pup?" Namjoon answered instead of you, his voice going into a more worried tone. Looking towards his eldest packmate, who sat a few seats away from him, he stood up quickly.

„Shit, I'm so sorry, baby cub. I didn't mean to make it that spicy; here, let me help, sweetie...no peaches, let alpha do it.” Jin said, bending over you and scooping up some of the kimchi pieces into one of the empty bowls lying around.

Whenever you attempted to do so too, going to dig around with your spoon to also place the pickled vegetables in the dish, your hand was gently pushed to your lap, Jin tutting at you softly.

Yoongi too stood up, and a cup held under the faucet was quickly filled with warm water. Once the other alpha stepped out of the way since he got a big part of the main spice out, the younger man poured the water into your bowl, filling it back up again.

Now it was a lot less seasoned, so it was a lot milder for you. Thanking him softly, you felt him gently rub his chin over the top of your head, caressing you lovingly.

„It's okay, kitty. Try it now; is it better?” Tasting it again, you nodded your head gratefully. It helped a lot, so you continued on, chewing on pieces of boiled onion and tofu.

„Im glad cub.” Smiling at Jin's comment, you finished up the dinner with no problems. Making light conversation with the other men about your favourite movies and such, the evening continued calmly.

Finishing the peach juice you had been so nicely poured, you let Jungkook take a hold of your palm, slowly pulling you out of your seat.

„Do you want to play a game with me, Tae, and Jimin? We have a completely new one; would you like to see, baby?” Bending over you, he ruffled up your hair before he tamed it back down and brushed it behind your ear.

„What game is it?” You asked, already walking with the alpha towards the couch. The TV was turned on, the menu shining brightly with the settings turned on.

Taking a seat on the couch next to Jimin, you watched over the two other men sitting before you. Taehyung already had a controller in his hands, smiling when he saw you. His eyes were excited.

„It's Resident Evil 7, babycheeks. It came out a few years ago, but we didn't play it yet.” Tae murmured, adjusting the brightness of the screen and the loudness.

„Yah, you know it's a horror game, Kook-ah. Let the poor thing rest; she will get scared like this. Princess, go run up to the other alphas now; this won't do you any good, baby.”

Jimin frowned at his packmates. They knew more than well how sensitive omegas can be about this stuff, especially right before bed. He didn't want you to have bad dreams.

„But hyung! We are here; it won't be that scary!” Jungkook whined, his voice loud. He wanted you to see how good he was in games, plus, this was one of the easiest ways to also show just how fearless he was.

He won't get easily startled, even with jump scares around, and that should surely impress you; he was sure of it.

„No, Jungkook, absolutely not. Come here, peaches, do you want to see the music studios we have here? You'll like them; there is a lot of interesting stuff. Here, I'll take you, sweet cub.”

Quickly shuffling over when he heard the light commotion, Jin could understand Jimin's worry. This could end very wrongly, and they were taking no chances.

Walking over from cleaning up the kitchen, the alpha picked you up easily, hands under your arms, and pulled you to his chest, securely holding you up.

Without having any time to even protest, you just complied, smiling sadly at the forced whine coming from the two youngest alphas. Resting your cheek over the wide shoulder Jin had, you let him walk towards the walkway that was to the right of the stairs.

There were quite a few rooms in the house with a lot of different purposes, but the outside heated pool was Jin's personal favourite. They had a large garden that Namjoon enjoyed taking care of so much, but the 20-meter-long pool was just perfect.

It was covered, but now it was way too cold out to go swimming. The air was icy, so there was steam coming out of their mouths whenever they were outside.

Plus, even if they did take you right now, the snow that covered everything in such a thick layer would be just too harsh on your bare skin when you were on your way back inside.

They could carry you back inside, though, the thought had the alpha rethink his decisions. They just might take you swimming some time when they all have a few free hours.

Smiling at you when you looked at him and noticing the thoughtful gaze he held, Jin knocked on the first studio doors that were in the hallway. Snuggling closer to his neck, you breathed in the soft Yasmine smell, the warmth from the alpha's chest comforting you even more.

After a few seconds, the frosted glass doors opened, and Hobi in blue light-blocking glasses appeared before you two. Immediately, when he noticed you in his older packmate's arms, he smiled widely, cooing at you.

„Aigoo, did you come to visit me, sunshine?" Chuckling, he lifted you up from Jin, holding you to his chest himself. Combing his fingers through your hair, the eldest let the smallest bit from his wrist's scent glands linger.

„I'll go finish up in the kitchen now cub, okay? Call if you need anything, peaches. Stay with Hobi for now, though.” Smiling sweetly at you, he caressed your cheeks gently. Nodding up at him, you held onto the red hoodie Hoseok was wearing.

Paired with a pair of cotton off-white loose sweatpants, he only had white socks on, comfortably clothed for the finishing touches he still had to do for one song tonight.

He and the other rapline members had a planned session tomorrow morning at BigHit with a few of the managers, so he needed to prepare some stuff for him to be able to show them.

Closing the doors after himself, the alpha whistled a tune he made into a song a few days ago, easily carrying you with only one hand and pulling the turning chair out.

Taking a seat, he placed you on his lap, letting you loop your legs through the arm rests, loosely hanging them by the sides of the chair.

Patting your lower back in a settling pattern, you rested your body fully against his chest, just breathing in his scent and presence for the moment.

There were a lot of things around the studio; the large wooden desk had a bunch of things carefully placed on it, and the two large speakers on the sides of the monitor quickly pulled your attention when you first looked over the room.

Hobi had an almost black beanbag chair on the floor, close to the entrance, that had a giant red and white SUPREME cover that moved in the breeze. Behind the pillow chair was a standing black shelf filled with many colourful dolls and statues.

Gently turning from left to right in the chair, the alpha swayed you both around.

„Hm.. do you want to listen to the song I'm working on, bub? It's almost done; I just need to fine-tune a few things.” Looking over, you let the man help you sit so you could face the big monitor yourself.

Placing a pair of big headphones over your head, he adjusted your hair so none would be caught under them, itching you. Any sounds from outside were suddenly blocked out so well that you were stunned a little.

You loved listening to music; you did it very often when creating, at school or at home, when you were walking anywhere or just in the bus; it just eased your mind a lot.

But since you didn't have much money to spend on any good headphones, you were left with a wire pair of black earbuds that sometimes just stopped working.

Still, you did use them quite often, even when they would push at your ears after a long time of wearing them, making your ears hurt a little.

You heard about the sound-blocking effect a few higher-quality headphones had, but you never had the chance to try it out yourself, so this was very new for you. You liked it a lot, though.

Hearing only the lightest sound of the man's laugh, he turned on the track, music playing in his ears. It sounded like it was being played for you live with how high quality the audio was, your lips parting slightly at that.

The song itself was awesome too; the singing was great and the rap even better. You enjoyed it a lot. When it ended, you looked over at the alpha, and your eyes widened with wonder.

Taking off the headphones for you, he placed them gently back on the desk. Looking at him immediately, you were amazed.

„What is the song called? It's so nice, Hobi! It's really soft!” You said, your voice happy and excited.

„We are naming it Take Two. I'm happy you liked it! I still need to finish some stuff off, though." He murmured, his eyes already focused on the screen again. While typing a few things on the keyboard here and there, the mouse clicking wasn't too loud for it to be annoying.

With his arms outstretched around you, you took the headphones off the desk again, looking over them. They really had a lot of nice stuff; Jin wasn't lying at all.

„The sound from these is so good..!" Not being able to hold back, you gently whispered, turning them into your hands.

Looking back down at what you were talking about, he giggled softly at you. „Is that so sunshine? They are ok, Yoongi hyung has a much better pair though. I lended mine to Namjoonie for a little bit, he lost his own somewhere. These are only for a little while.”

„He lost his headphones? Oh no, how will he make music now-” Your voice was bewildered, quickly taking your attention from the device in your hands you stared up at the alpha in shock.

„No, no. Its alright bub. It's not that big of a deal, it happens a lot.” Laughing loudly at the end of the sentence he carresed your head, gently shushing your worries.

Pulling your face to his chest, your knees went over his tights, loosely hanging by his. Gently gripping onto his hoodie, you closed your eyes for a little bit.

Rubbing your back occasionally, the alpha cuddled up to you closer, squeezing you to his body. Putting on the headphones himself, he got back to work. Breathing in your sweet scent, he felt calm.

Any nerves he felt about showing the new track to his managers he felt earlier had quickly disappeared, and so after a short while he finished up fully.

Saving all files, Hobi looked down at you, only to see you already long asleep, your breathing prolonged and calm. He smiled softly at you, finishing up on his computer before he pulled you back up in his arms again.

Stirring a little, you whined softly, having the alpha shush you quickly. Patting your lower back gently, he walked out of his studio doors, walking back over to the kitchen again.

„Hush sweet baby. It's alright, alpha's here.” He murmured, carresing the top of your head with his cheek. Entering the kitchen, he turned the lights on, noticing the loud sounds coming from the TV.

Looking over, he saw just how dark the game was and decided that just wasn't for him. Pouring himself and you a glass of cold water, he woke you up softly, helping you hold the glass while drinking.

Waking up a bit better, Hobi placed you on your feet again, brushing his fingers through your hair. Looking over at the digital clock on the wall, it read 21:49. Mumbling about how you still had to shower, you walked up the stairs slowly, hearing Hoseok call about you being careful while walking still so tiredly.

Making your way to the furthest room from the stairs, you walked in, turning on the lights. The dark, clean sheets greeted you kindly, shuffling over to the bed you went through the clothing pile Jungkook and you earlier pulled out.

Taking out your sleepwear and a fresh pair of underwear, you walked over to the adjoined doors leading to a bathroom, secluded for the guest room. It wasn't the biggest, but considering how it was all for yourself only, you were more than satisfied.

Still it was much bigger than your own you had at your apartment. Placing your clothes on the white counter top next to the sink, you stripped from your outfit you wore earlier today.

Stepping into the marble tiled shower, you pulled the glass doors after yourself, turning on the shower above you. Washing away any sweat and grime you shampooed and conditioned your hair, the strawberry scented bottles calling out your name.

You were more than sure that the alphas weren't planning on stopping spoiling you rotten any time soon. Noticing the bottles were named of an expensive brand you just shook your head slightly.

After the short shower you dried your body you pulled on your pyjama pants, the light blue and white gingham pattern matched to the blue short sleeve loose t-shirt you had with yourself.

Toweling your hair dry, you pulled open one of the drawers, the black air-dryer intimidating you a little. Taking it out, it felt much heavier than any other one you had ever held.

Walking from the now warm and steaming room, you took it with yourself, rearranging all the stuff still placed on your bed so you would be able to get comfortable later on. Walking out of your room, your bare feet slapped against the cold floors quietly.

Noticing Yoongi walking towards his room before you, you called out his name softly, pattering towards him. Turning to you immediately, the alpha watched over you as you walked to him.

„Hm? Kitty? What's wrong? Where are your socks, baby?” Taking one look at your bare feet, he could already imagine you getting a cold like this. Absolutely not.

Still, you showed him the hairdryer, your wet hair dripping a few water drops on the ground here and there.

Sighing out, he nodded before walking with you back to your room. Gosh, the things he would do for you. Even prolonging his much-wanted sleep? He was more than whipped for you already.

Closing the doors after entering, he motioned towards your bed, already looking for a plug to get the small device working.

„Hop up 'mega. Alpha will dry your hair, baby.” Taking a seat, you pulled the soft brown hoodie from Hoseok to your lap, your fist closing over the fabric softly.

Sneaking his arms around your waist, he pulled you back a little, so you were closer to him. The wire wasn't that long, after all. Turning it on, he let it be on cold air settings, gently combing your hair out with his fingers before he started drying it for you.

Minding your hairstyle, he worked well and fast. With one knee placed over the mattress, the alpha allowed you to rest your lower back fully against him.

Making quick work with it, your hair was soon dry, and the obnoxiously loud noise was turned off too. Ruffling your hair, he gently turned your face to check over the front of your hair. Satisfied with his work, Yoongi nodded softly.

„Okay kitten, all done. Here, let me help you to bed. You should go to sleep now, or you'll be tired by tomorrow, and we can't have that, sweet kitty. Come on, let's see about these covers." Unfolding them, Yoongi gently shook them out, being careful to let only the smallest bit of his scent linger.

Crawling in, you took a seat at the top of the bed, your back resting against the headboard while you watched the alpha. Gently throwing the heavy duvet over you, he patted it down, ensuring your warmth.

„Come on, kitty, settle down now. It's time to sleep, hm?” Coaxing you gently to rest down, you layed on the mattress, your head hitting the pillow softly. Rubbing your shoulder gently, he smiled at you, his gums showing.

„Do you want me to get the other alphas before you sleep, sweet baby? I'm sure they will love to tell you goodnights.” Nodding unsurely, the man left quickly. Folding the hoodie to your chest, you breathed in Jin's scent, which lingered over it just the smallest bit. It comforted you a little.

It took only a minute or two before the room's door opened up again, the packmates filling in one after another. The first to come was Taehyung, smiling widely at you.

He couldn't help but coo at how cuddly you looked, all soft under the heavy blankets, with only a bit of your face peeking out.

„Babycheeks, you are just the cutest thing possible, aren't you? You'll give me a heart attack soon like this! Hm... Babycub, sleep well tonight, okay?” His voice already went deeper than it was; even if it wasn't that late into the night, he felt a bit tired himself.

Nodding at him, you let him hold your hand for a few seconds, gently rubbing his thumb over your knuckles, his eyes calmly looking over you.

„Okay, Taehyung-ah, let me have a bit with her now too, gosh.” Pushing him out of the way gently, you were faced with the eldest packmate. Jin too stared down at you lovingly for a few seconds before he went on to caress your cheeks and temples.

Crouching down next to the bed, he came face-to-face with you, his scent more prominent than earlier. „Sleep well, baby peaches. If the storm wakes you up, come to us right away, okay ? We will keep you secure. It could get a little scary; it's loud sometimes...”

Voicing his running throught, he soon pulled away, allowing the next man to tell you his good nights.

„My princess. Rest well tonight, hm? We will wake you up tomorrow morning, so don't worry about anything. You just sleep well, okay?” His knuckles went softly over your warmed-up cheeks, your eyes fluttering closed for a small second.

„My baby Omega, if you need anything, alpha is always close, okay? You just call, and we will be here in a second, sweet baby. Close your eyes and rest for now; don't worry about a thing.” The youngest spoke, his voice gentle and calming.

Patting over your shoulder, he too stood up after a few seconds of watching over you. They felt the need to know about your wellbeing before going to sleep themselves, so while the other men were still saying their good nights, the rest went over the room, making sure the window was tightly shut and sealed, the curtains drawn close with no chance of seeing inside.

„My sleepy sunshine. It's time for good nights now, yea? You have to sleep lots and lots, so you won't be all tired tomorrow. If you need anything, just come to one of us.” Rubbing his chin over the side of your head, Hoseok smiled brightly at how you were holding the hoodie tightly to yourself.

„Good. Keep a hold of that for me, bub.” The alpha realised how much an object you would grow attached to would keep you calm and settled, so after having that jumper around for when you had your omegadrop, he knew well that it should help with any future ones.

„Okay kitty, it's time to sleep now, yea? Be a good girl for alpha, and don't stay up. Don't be on your phone or something; just rest your eyes. You had a long day, my kitten.”

He himself yawned, feeling tired already. Running his fingers through his hair, he pulled you further into sleep with his soft words.

„My small pup. Sleep lots and lots tonight, alright? And if you wake up, come to an alpha right away, do you understand, baby cub? This is important. ...Okay, good girl. Sleep now, sweetheart. Alpha's will keep you safe.”

Pulling the duvet closer to your chin, he patted it down to make sure you'd be warm throughout the night. And so, with the heater turned on fully and a glass of water placed on your bedside table from Jin, you were soon lulled to sleep, the men all waiting to see you fully rest before they all left to go to bed themselves.

⋆·˚ ༘ *ੈ✩‧₊˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ *

466 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 9 months

Text

Carpe Noctem 7

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, gaslighting, manipulatin, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (short!reader)

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

You make yourself leave the bathroom, the smell of maple greeting you as Lloyd sets out the cardboard containers at the end of the bed. There's not much in the room besides the bed and television. He smirks as you elude his gaze.

"So, you a waffle girl–"

You take a container without concern for the contents and catch the plastic-wrapped cutlery as it rolls off the top. You turn your back to him and sit on the side of the bed. He sighs, his soles shifting as he slowly struts around the corner.

You flip open the box, balancing it on your lap as you open the fork and knife. You juggle awkwardly to pour the container of maple syrup over the French toast. He looms over you, a hand in the pocket of his powder blue pants.

"You put some ice on that?" He points to your cheek.

"I'm fine," you insist and cut into the eggy bread, "please, just say whatever little speech you have prepared and go."

He walks in front of you and clears his throat. He tugs on his pants before he sits beside you. You scarf down a mouthful, trying to focus on the food over him.

"You really gonna go back to a jackass who would do that to your pretty face?" He leans back on his arm, his shoulder behind yours. Too close for comfort.

"So you came to gloat?" You scoff.

"I came to repay the favour and let me make it clear, I don't do that shit. Favours, what the fuck ever. But baby, most women would left me stewing in that gin–"

"I should have," you scowl.

"But you didn't," he leans his shoulder into yours, "so the least I can do is offer you a place in your time of need."

"Uh huh, you seem like the generous type," you poke at a piece of crust.

"I brought you breakfast," he intones. You look at him sharply and he snickers, "alright, it doesn't come without some… terms."

"Terms?" You frown.

"Look, I don't do that pining bullshit. Sexual tension makes my balls ache, they fill up like pendulums and I can't walk straight–"

"You're disgusting."

"Sure am," he pulls his arm out from behind you and leans his elbows on his legs, "but I'm not gonna lie to your face then bash it in. I just want a little tit…" he looks you up and down, "for tat."

"Ew."

"Don't think of it too deep. We both got needs, even if you can't see it now but I know for a fact you haven't been fucked the way you should and I can do just that. Plus give you a nice room of your own and a place to get away from that man child you call an ex."

"Ex? We didn't–"

"Ugh, don't make me say all that sappy shit but you… don't… he doesn't… deserve… whatever. You know that old cliche."

"Wow, very moving," you close up the box, your appetite shriveled.

You get up, trying to make space between you and him. You put the box down and brace your hips.

"You got your work and life, I got mine. I'm just looking for some stress relief at the end of the day. It's nothing serious. Fuck, high five, go on our way."

You chew your lip. You don't even want to acknowledge the offer. It's gross and slimy. Just like him.

"And I'll help you get your shit from the dickless fuck before he destroys it. Make sure he doesn't go for round two on your mug."

You huff, blowing out air until your lungs thrum. You shake your head. You can't really be considering this.

You could call the twins and… they live with their parents still. Coworkers… they all have kids and families… your mother lives in a totally different city and you can barely be in the same room for more than an hour before you're ready to bawl.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

"Right," he pulls out his phone, "I'm looking at listings. Nice bachelor for, hm, 2400 a month. Good deal. Oh if you want a one bedroom that'll be another three hundred…"

"Stop. Stop," you face him, "I get it. Okay. I fucking…" you flinch and touch your cheek as it throbs, "I get it."

"Aw, baby face," he stands and nears you, surprising you as he nears and cradles your chin, "you just wait until I meet this fuckboy."

You look at him, defeated. You can't say it. You can't admit it. You're at a dead end and he's the only way out.

"Nah, you don't gotta say it… yet. But we both know the facts. So, you get your stuff, check out, and we'll do this step by step."

He spins and goes to the bed, scooping up your cell phone. You follow him as he keys into the screen and you try to take it from him. He keeps it out of your grasp and grins triumphantly.

"Alright, so my address is in there," he throws it onto the pillow, "I'll meet you there. Also, key code is on there too. Let yourself in."

"What? Where–"

"I got business, we'll debrief later," he winks at you, "in a manner of speaking."

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #the gray man #au #drabble #the club #series #carpe noctem

260 notes · View notes

moreespressoformydepresso · 2 months

Text

Hot take:

Coriolanus Snow did not love Lucy Gray, even though he loved her.

Bear with me for a second I know this sounds like an oxymoron but I promise I can make it make sense. The TL;DR is that both SnowBaird shippers and detractors are right, but also very very wrong. I’ll explain.

People who say Snow was genuinely in love with Lucy Gray are wrong. Flat out incorrect. And I say this so bluntly because of one simple factor: before the games, he needed Lucy Gray to promise total devotion to him. This 16 year old girl was about to be thrown into an arena to fight to the death and his concern was whether she was committed to him?? That’s not love. That’s need. Remember the saying “if you love someone, let them go”? It exists for a reason. If you truly love someone, you want what’s best for them. You want them to be happy, even if that means stepping away. Snow was not ready or willing to do this. If there was even a chance of him having to step away, he was prepared to just leave her to her fate to die. And this happened relatively early in the story when you look at the importance of events. Most of the moments we can point to and go “that’s a turning point for him” happen either during or after the games. Funnily enough this ties to a very simple fact of the story that seems to fly over a lot of fans’ heads, if they’re not just outright ignoring it.

Snow did not lose his mind or go insane over the course of the story. The whole point is that he was always this way, and looked every opportunity to choose to be a good person dead in the eyes as he dashed them to pieces, burned them to ashes and used the charcoal left over to draw happy little doodles on their graves. This story has two points, with the first being a subversion of the “uwu villain with a tragic backstory to excuse their actions” trope. The second one is gleefully stewing in all the ways the people Snow wronged in his early life haunted him until the day he died, especially Sejanus and Lucy Gray. That’s just one example of Snow not actually caring about Lucy Gray, but there are more. They’re sprinkled all throughout the story, culminating in the final scene where he attempts to murder her.

However

Coriolanus Snow did have genuine feelings for Lucy Gray. He was prepared to ruin his entire future to save her, knowing that getting caught cheating would destroy all he’s worked for his entire life. When he was forced to become a peacekeeper, he asked to go to 12 in hopes of seeing her again. He went out of his way to track her down and they shared genuine moments together. By now, he has no ulterior motive for being around her. No prize, no game to win, nothing to gain except happy memories. Snow wanted to be with her. And Lucy Gray wanted to be with him. There’s a skeleton of a genuine relationship there, inklings of the love story Lucy Gray was convinced they were destined to have. That wasn’t fake, those were real feelings and it could have been beautiful. If it wasn’t for one tiny little problem: Lucy Gray is not who Snow thought she was. She isn’t who he wanted her to be. In other words:

Coriolanus Snow thought he loved Lucy Gray Baird, when in actuality he loved the idea of her he’d created in his mind.

You see, this boy is the least reliable narrator to ever narrate in the history of ever, beaten out only by Humbert Humbert. And in similar fashion to Lolita it looks like people are making the mistake of taking his word at face value when the point the book tries to make is that you should not do that. Snow looked at his choice to keep bashing Bobbin over the head after he was already knocked out and decided to take it as evidence that all human beings lose their humanity when cornered (even though he was no longer cornered), he is very clearly not a trustworthy individual when it comes to making logical deductions. Especially because he can be neck-deep in denial sometimes. Snow never cared about Lucy Gray, the Covey girl, singer and performer who lost most of her family to a massacre and was forced to stay in one district rather than moving around like she used to. He cared about Lucy Gray Baird, district 12’s female tribute for the 10th hunger games. And those are not the same people. Tribute Lucy Gray Baird was locked in a zoo, forced to perform at all times to survive. Lucy Gray was free to be her authentic self (trauma not withstanding) and while she loves to perform, it’s a different kind. There’s no pressure, she can leave the stage if she so desires. She can roam as free as one can in the districts and no longer needs a mask to live.

In the book, Snow outright says he wishes she was still locked in the zoo so he knew where she was and she couldn’t leave. He loved the Lucy Gray that was contained. The one that was considered his by the people around him. The girl who relied on him completely because she had to. He loved what she was forced to be in order to not die, and when he saw the real her he wished she would be more like the girl he met. Which was not the real Lucy Gray. Snow loved the act she put on, and to some extent the control he had over her. He had genuine feelings for her, but not for the real her.

To conclude this rambly mess: shippers will pretend Snow genuinely loved Lucy Gray for all she was. This is not true. A certain subsect of people who hate this ship will say he never cared for her at all. This is also not true. And in a fandom for a book about the nuances of even the worst people on earth, that’s very funny.

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #the hunger games #10th hunger games #hunger games #lucy gray baird #lucy gray x coriolanus #coriolanus snow #character analysis #I saw one too many posts warring about whether he did or didn’t love her and decided that the correct response was to piss everyone off #so here we are #analysis #hot take #i guess #idk #love #love is complicated #people are complicated #nuance

109 notes · View notes

clemblog · 18 days

Text

Caine’s Lesson - Part 8

•

A few days had passed, Gummigoo having spent said days slowly chipping away at a pistol for Poms! It was sleek and a lot smaller than what he was used to, perfectly weighted to the sizing of Poms hands! He grinned as he gave it a final check over.

"Nice one Gummi, another perfect piece, just like Pa taught you!" He hummed happily to himself, leaning to pick up a paint brush from his tool kit to write Poms name on it. That way anyone would know from a first glance that it was hers.

He took a few moments to careful write 'Pommy' in curly writing to go along with the rest of the style of the weapon.

Now, all he had to do was go pester his Ma and see if she had any spare holsters lying around!

"Maaaaaa?"

"Yes Gummigoo?"

"Ya got any old holsters lying around?"

"I'm not sure, we might! If you come stir this pot of soup for me, I can take a look!"

Gummigoo hummed at this, walking into the kitchen. He handed over the pistol to his Ma as he took the ladle from her.

"Ooh! What a beauty, my boy." She cooed, softly as she looked it over. "I'm sure we have a perfect holster for your friend Poms."

"Thanks Ma." Chuckled Gummigoo, stirring the soup his Ma was working on. If he had to guess it was most likely a gummy fish based stew.

A few moments later Ma walked back into the room, holding a ruby red leather holster in her hand.

"Oh! Ma, are you sure?" Spoke Gummigoo, eyes widening slightly.

"You know I don't shoot anymore Gum, besides I trust Poms. She seems like a fine young lady." Nodded Ma, gently placing the holstered pistol in his hands. "Now shoo! Out my kitchen, I got meals to cook."

Pomni was just relaxing in the barn, it was hot day today, so she didn't exactly feel like being out in the sun. She looked up when Gummigoo entered the barn, hands behind his back.

"O-Oh! Hey Gummigoo, what's that?"

"It's a surprise, for you Pommy~" He grinned. "Made it myself."

Pomni's eyes widened slightly as she looked over the item, taking it slowly from his hands.

"W-Wow- Gummigoo- I don't know what to say-" She eeked, slowly.

"How about whether or not you'll be joining me and the lads on our trip tomorrow~?"

"O-Oh absolutely!"

"Snazzy, I'll get Max and Chad to get you a ride before tomorrow-"

"Wait- Gummigoo, do you mean a horse-"

•

"So, Ragatha, you feeling any better?" Hummed Zooble, curiously.

"A little!" Smiled Ragatha, sheepishly. "I'm not really thinking of Pomni so much anymore- I'm still worried about her- But it's not like taking over my life- Like I’m still worried but I can do other things-“

“We got it Rags, don’t worry.” Mused Zooble.

“Y-Yeah! It’s nice to hear you’re feeling better.” Nodded Gangle in agreement. She was still drawing, but was now drawing things for herself or what she wanted to make or plan out. Apparently it was a break, but Ragatha didn’t really see that as a break in her honest opinion- Gangle was happy though, so she left it be!

It just meant she could start to theorise on what to make Gangle as a present!!

Truth be told, with everyone sat talking together, Caine having been absent from the circus for a week now. Jax was feeling rather… lonely. Even [————-] got lonely- But that was the downside of being, well an [—-]. Nobody stuck around much in situations like this.

So, he’d decided to get even more familiar with the circus, see if their where anymore secrets to find! They might be useful! You never know- You can never do enough slinking around!

He’d been walking around for a few minutes when he found a door he’d never seen before, it looked old and untouched. Except for the disturbed dust on the floor, indicating the door could in fact open.

“Hello door! You don’t mind if I-“ He hummed, opening it and stepping inside.

What Jax wasn’t expecting to find was Caine, however.

“Uh- Caine, buddy? I didn’t realise this was how I got to you-“

“JAX!” Exclaimed Caine with a large grin. “You made it just in time to go on your next adventure!”

“Oh an adventure? Finally~ Let me go get the others-“

“Nono, theirs no time! Off you go!”

Jax found himself being engulfed by a portal before he could get another word on.

“CAINE- HANG ON A [—————] SECOND-“

“I HOPE YOU ENJOY YOUR SOLO ADVENTURE JAX! PERFECTLY CURATED BY YOURS TRULY- NOW I MUST GO HYDRATE, YOU’VE GOTTA GO DO THAT MULTIPLE TIMES Y’KNOW-“

•

“Uh… Max- Chad- I don’t really know how to ride a horse-“

“Don’t worry! It’s easy as riding a bike!”

“Exactly!”

“Uhm… Okay-“

“You’ve got this!”

Max then proceeded to slap the butt of the horse, causing it to charge off with Pomni sat in the saddle.

“OH GOD- MAX- CHAD! HELP ME- STOP STOP STOP- SORRY- SORRY- HORSIE- PLEASE- SLOW DOWN- I DON’T KNOW HOW TO STEER YOU- IVE NEVER DRIVEN A HORSE BEFORE- UH- GUMMIGOO?! LOU?! MA?! ANYONE? MAXXXXX I DONT KNOW HOW TO STOP- CHAD PLEASE- PLEASEEEEEE- YOU GUYS ARE. THE. WORST. GUMMIGOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

That’s to say Gummigoo wouldn’t be leaving Pomni alone with Max and Chad again anytime soon. He took over Pomni’s riding lessons, and after a few laps of the field, Pomni was feeling a lot more confident with her new mare! She decided on naming her jingles. She was a very sweet blue and pink coloured gummy horse. The sweet girl was anxious just like her but she could run fast! Pomni had no doubt that the horse could help her travel and keep up with the trio of bandits on their next adventures!

This was nice, building up a home, some skills and a form of transportation. It helped make her feel more human.

Part 9

53 notes · View notes

katnissmellarkkk · 2 months

Text

as per @rosegardeninwinter’s request that “someone (@katnissmellarkkk) needs to make a bookcomb of all the times Peeta feeds Katniss or orchestrates food being given to her or gives her direction on when to eat because reasons” 🤗

The boy never even glanced my way, but I was watching him. Because of the bread, because of the red weal that stood out on his cheekbone. What had she hit him with? My parents never hit us. I couldn’t even imagine it. The boy took one look back to the bakery as if checking that the coast was clear, then his attention back on the pig, he threw a loaf of bread in my direction. The second quickly followed, and he sloshed back to the bakery, closing the kitchen door tightly behind him.

I gingerly lift my hand to my head and find it bandaged. This simple gesture leaves me weak and dizzy. Peeta holds a bottle to my lips and I drink thirstily.

“No, it’s good. You need to eat. I’ll go hunting soon,” I say.

“Not too soon, all right?” he says. “You just let me take care of you for a while.”

I don’t really seem to have much choice. Peeta feeds me bites of groosling and raisins and makes me drink plenty of water. He rubs some warmth back into my feet and wraps them in his jacket before tucking the sleeping bag back up around my chin.

Every cell in my body wants me to dig into the stew and cram it, handful by handful into my mouth. But Peeta’s voice stops me. “We better take it slow on that stew. Remember the first night on the train? The rich food made me sick and I wasn’t even starving then.”

“You’re right. And I could just inhale the whole thing!” I say regretfully. But I don’t. We are quite sensible. We each have a roll, half an apple, and an egg-size serving of stew and rice. I make myself eat the stew in tiny spoonfuls — they even sent us silverware and plates — savoring each bite. When we finish, I stare longingly at the dish. “I want more.”

“Me too. Tell you what. We wait an hour, if it stays down, then we get another serving,” Peeta says.

“It’s just . . . if we didn’t win . . . I wanted Thresh to. Because he let me go. And because of Rue.”

“Yeah, I know,” says Peeta. “But this means we’re one step closer to District Twelve.” He nudges a plate of food into my hands. “Eat. It’s still warm.”

I take a bite of the stew to show I don’t really care, but it’s like glue in my mouth and takes a lot of effort to swallow.

When Peeta wakes me later, the first thing I register is the smell of goat cheese. He’s holding out half a roll spread with the creamy white stuff and topped with apple slices. “Don’t be mad,” he says. “I had to eat again. Here’s your half.”

Peeta smiles and douses Haymitch’s knife in white liquor from a bottle on the floor. He wipes the blade clean on his shirttail and slices the bread. Peeta keeps all of us in fresh baked goods. I hunt. He bakes. Haymitch drinks. We have our own ways to stay busy, to keep thoughts of our time as contestants in the Hunger Games at bay. It’s not until he’s handed Haymitch the heel that he even looks at me for the first time. “Would you like a piece?”

He picks up one of the flowered cookies and examines it. “Lovely. Your mother made these?”

“Peeta.” And for the first time, I find I can’t hold his gaze. I reach for my tea but set it back down when I hear the cup rattling against the saucer. To cover I quickly take a cookie.

“Peeta. How is the love of your life?” he asks.

“Good,” I say.

“I want to taste everything in the room,” I tell Peeta.

I can see him trying to read my expression, to figure out my transformation. Since he doesn’t know that President Snow thinks I have failed, he can only assume that I think we have succeeded. Perhaps even that I have some genuine happiness at our engagement. His eyes reflect his puzzlement but only briefly, because we’re on camera. “Then you’d better pace yourself,” he says.

“Okay, no more than one bite of each dish,” I say.

Since Mags seems to have no ill effects from the nuts, Peeta collects bunches of them and fries them by bouncing them off the force field. He methodically peels off the shells, piling the meats on a leaf. I stand guard, fidgety and hot and raw with the emotions of the day.

[…]

Mags has also plaited several bowls that Peeta has filled with roasted nuts.

“Can we eat [the 🐀]?” Peeta asks.

“I don’t know for sure. But his meat doesn’t look that different from a squirrel’s. He ought to be cooked. . . .” […]

Peeta has another idea. He takes a cube of rodent meat, skewers it on the tip of a pointed stick, and lets it fall into the force field. There’s a sharp sizzle and the stick flies back. The chunk of meat is blackened on the outside but well cooked inside. We give him a round of applause, then quickly stop, remembering where we are.

I poke around in the pile, about to settle on some cod chowder, when Peeta holds out a can to me. “Here.”

I take it, not knowing what to expect. The label reads LAMB STEW.

I press my lips together at the memories of rain dripping through stones, my inept attempts at flirting, and the aroma of my favorite Capitol dish in the chilly air. So some part of it must still be in his head, too. How happy, how hungry, how close we were when that picnic basket arrived outside our cave. “Thanks.” I pop open the top. “It even has dried plums.” I bend the lid and use it as a makeshift spoon, scooping a bit into my mouth. Now this place tastes like the arena, too.

Peeta, bearing a warm loaf of bread, shows up with Greasy Sae. She makes us breakfast and I feed all my bacon to Buttercup.

#everlark #thg #hunger games #peeta mellark #Katniss everdeen #bookcomb ♥️🔎#I’ll do the reverse soon 🔜

65 notes · View notes

nyaagolor · 2 months

Note

What are your thoughts on Apollo Justice (the character)?

OH BOY. OHHHHHH BOY. I have a fever and some free time lfg.

So honestly, I think part of the reason I love Apollo so much is because he runs parallel to Phoenix but also counter to him at the same time. I always saw Simon and Athena as the successors-- in terms of ideology and job and all that other stuff-- to the Phoenix-Edgeworth dynamic and status rather than Apollo and Klavier. Athena and Simon, to me, feel like extensions of the arcs of Phoenix and Edgeworth + the vibes of the original trilogy. Apollo and Klavier ( who I will not talk about bc we will be here all day)? They're the antithesis.

Apollo Justice The Game directly foils the original trilogy in so many ways, but I think even on a more base thematic level it runs counter to a lot of the ideas that we take for granted about the original trilogy, and because Apollo sits at the center of this, the things I love about the game are encapsulated in why I like him. There are a ton of themes in the ace attorney trilogy-- support networks, faith, trust, the truth-- and Apollo is defined by their limits, their failures, and their absence. He is let down, kicked around, defined by abandonment and betrayal and distrust. Apollo is defined by everything that Phoenix is not, and bc of how the timeline goes we don't really get any retribution for that, just a steady march forward, and I think that gives me a lot to think about with his character

Phoenix's arc right from Turnabout Sisters is about the building of a support network, and the ways that developing this support is integral for when things go wrong. We contrast Phoenix with Godot, Maya with Dahlia, and see how people left to stew in their resentment can chase vengeance to dark places (wow I wonder who also does this after the death of a dear friend leading to a crusade of misplaced revenge that almost leads someone they care about being killed.). With Apollo we get to stand on the precipice of resolution, but the important part is we don't get it. Apollo's life falls off the rails, and he's the one left to pick up the pieces.

We see through him how our trust can be betrayed by people of good and bad intentions, and the lingering consequences that has on one's ability to not only trust the people around them but themselves. And yeah!! That's why I adore him so much-- he's tested not by the possibility of failure like Phoenix often is, but climbing up from the reality of it. It's less "how do we make our way out of this mess before it goes nuclear" and more "things are already destroyed-- where do we go from here?". It has more of an element of recovery than prevention to me, and I think that's a fascinating avenue to explore in stories like these. Apollo pushes the envelope of the themes of the narrative and the characters-- he is the epitome of what it looks like when things fall apart, and it gives him and the trilogy characters something to reconcile

A lot of people have complained that Apollo barely feels like the protagonist in his own game, but that's honestly a huge part of the reason why I love him so much. He's defined by the spaces between, the limits and failures of things we had up to this point taken to be true, and left with a pretty limited degree of autonomy through it all. He's pushed around and puppeteered by people who mean well and those who don't, and I feel like a major theme of AA4 that I love but don't often see talked about is "what does it mean to have autonomy-- and by extension, control? What does it mean to take it back? What does it mean to lose it, and what does it mean when you'd do anything to keep it." Most of what I said is only partially resolved bc AA4 is... a game. A technically finished game. but!! Because it eviscerates our expectations of the franchise so thoroughly AND leaves open so many avenues, it makes Apollo and the rest of his crew some of my favorite characters because there's so much you can think about and do with them!!

also he's like. An insect to me. <3

#apollo justice #ace attorney #meta #mod vex #ask #im sick rn and I'm Tired so I didn't edit this

60 notes · View notes

blu-joons · 1 year

Text

When He Apologises After A Fight ~ BTS Reaction

Jin:

Your eyes widened in surprise as you walked through the front door to see your house decorated and plenty of boxes waiting on your dining table.

“Surprise,” Jin laughed as he stepped out from a pile of balloons on the floor.

Your eyebrows knitted together, looking across at him in confusion. “What on earth is all of this Jin? Have you lost your mind?”

“Not quite,” he innocently chuckled, “I just thought I’d get a few bits together to try and let you know just how sorry I am for what happened last night.”

“It looks like we’re celebrating something right now.”

“Hopefully,” Jin smiled, “we can celebrate you forgiving me in a bit.”

“You’re insane,” you sighed as you took a better look around the place. “Are they presents on the table too? What have I done to deserve any of them?”

Jin’s smile turned up even more as he appeared beside you, “most of all you’ve dealt with my nonsense to deserve those.”

“I can’t believe you,” you whispered, “I’ve never seen anyone react to a fight like this before.”

“This is my way of saying sorry.”

Yoongi:

Your eyes screwed tightly shut as you heard the bedroom door opening, knowing the footsteps you heard could only belong to one person.

“I know you’re not asleep,” Yoongi told you straight away, admiring your acting.

With a huff you opened your eyes and rolled around to look at him, “couldn’t you just get the message if I was pretending?”

“I could,” Yoongi agreed with you, “it’s just that I don’t want to. We can’t go to bed on this argument Y/N, it’s not doing good for either of us.”

“Really? I’m happy sleeping by myself tonight though.”

“Come on,” Yoongi pleaded, “try and give me something to work with here.”

“I’m awake, that’s what you can work with,” you bluntly told Yoongi, “I’m listening, but that’s about as far as I want to go tonight, I’m tired too Yoongi.”

Yoongi nodded, knowing he wasn’t going to get much more from you. “Are you really listening or just daydreaming?”

“I’m listening,” you corrected, “but this doesn’t sound like an apology so far really.”

“I’m getting to it Y/N.”

Hoseok:

A sigh came from you as Hobi continued to follow you around the house, refusing to let your argument slide and be left stewing with time.

“Y/N, can you just wait?” Hobi called out, reaching out to grab your hand to get you.

He just missed your hand though as you continued to walk. “I don’t want to hear how sorry you are right now Hoseok.”

“Hoseok?” He quizzed, a shiver running down his spine as you used his full name. “Y/N, I get that you’re mad but just listen to me, for a second.”

“Why would I listen? So you can continue to be rude?”

“No!” He yelled out, “because I want to say sorry and not let this carry on.”

“I need time, space,” you warned him, stopping to finally face him. “Please, just go and do something by yourself for a little while or something…Hobi.”

His head slowly nodded back at you, “if that’s really what you want, maybe I could go to the studio or something.”

“That’s a good idea,” you told him, “maybe see if one of the boys is around too.”

“Yeah, I’ll do just that.”

Namjoon:

The soft smile that was on your face gave Namjoon a glimmer of hope as he walked through the front door, beginning to make his apology after fighting.

“You got the note, right?” Namjoon smiled as he saw the piece of paper in your hand.

Your head nodded as you held onto it tightly, “I wasn’t expecting to come down this morning and see this on the table for me.”

“I just needed you to know how sorry I was as quickly as I could,” Namjoon explained, “and remind you just how I really feel about you too Y/N.”

“It made me feel a little less angry reading this from you.”

“I’m glad,” Namjoon whispered, “but I know a note isn’t going to fix everything.”

“I think we have some talking to do,” you agreed, smiling weakly still. “There was a lot that was said that maybe can’t just be brushed under the carpet.”

Namjoon hummed in agreement with you, “plenty of things that I said which need to be proven wrong as well.”

“Were they wrong?” You pushed, “because you need to be honest with me Namjoon.”

“I promise, they were mistakes.”

Jimin:

You threw your head back in disappointment as you heard the front door open, watching as Jimin walked through the front door and straight across to you.

“Can we talk?” Jimin asked you quickly before you had the chance to leave the room.

You momentarily glanced at him before shrugging his shoulders. “That depends, do you want to insult me some more if we talk?”

“No, of course I don’t,” Jimin insisted just as quickly. “I want to try and put things right, maybe explain why I was so rude to you this morning.”

“I think there’s a lot of explaining to do if I’m honest with you.”

“I know,” Jimin understood, “I can’t really understand myself what came over me.”

“I know you’re probably going to tell me you’re stressed,” you predicted, “but that’s never an excuse to start taking it out on me when I just try and care.”

The nod of Jimin’s head let you know your judgement was right. “I shouldn’t take it out on you, but I couldn’t help it.”

“It’s not fair,” you warned Jimin, “there’s only so many times I’m just going to take it too.”

“I don’t want you to either.”

Taehyung:

You called through to the person on the other side of your office door to come through, pushing your pile of paperwork to one side as they walked into your office.

“Peace offering,” a familiar voice called out, bringing a sigh out of you straight away.

Your eyes glanced up as Taehyung smiled weakly at you in the doorway. “What are you doing here? I’ve got work to do right now Tae.”

“Surely you can spare a few minutes for lunch,” he told you, lifting two boxes in the air. “I wanted to come and say sorry for what happened earlier.”

“You’re lucky that I’ve got a little bit of time that I can spare.”

“Thank you,” Taehyung told you as he entered, “I made sure to get your favourite too.”

“I guess that helps to try and make me forgive you a little bit,” you commented, making room on your desk for Taehyung to place the two boxes down.

Taehyung hummed as he took a seat at the other side of your desk. “I really am sorry Y/N, I shouldn’t have said what I said earlier.”

“I agree,” you weakly smiled back to him, “what even made you say such things to me?”

“I really just don’t know.”

Jungkook:

A glance down from Namjoon was all that Jungkook needed to know that he was doing the right thing to try and make up for his mistakes earlier that morning.

“Does Y/N like flowers?” Namjoon asked him, watching him browse the website.

Jungkook nodded in reply to him, “I don’t know whether they’ll truly make up for what I said to her, but I can only try and fix things, can’t I?”

“What must you have said to need to do something this huge to apologise?” Namjoon quizzed, only for Jungkook to shake his head, staring away.

“I don’t want to talk about it, I’m too embarrassed to really share.”

“Wow,” Namjoon muttered under his breath, “you really must’ve done something stupid.”

“That’s an understatement,” Jungkook remarked as he selected one of the bouquets on the website, “I just hope that Y/N will love these as much as I love them.”

Namjoon offered him a weak smile as Jungkook looked to him, “I’m sure Y/N will love them, you know what sort of flowers she likes.”

“I think so,” Jungkook muttered, “although after this morning, I’ve lost a bit of confidence.”

“Don’t beat yourself up Kook.”

---

Masterlist

723 notes · View notes

ghoulie-67-baby · 9 months

Text

Gentle man- Criminal Minds.

Summary: Imagine being saved by the team and hiding behind Spencer, because the rest of the team scare you, and having him calm you down.

Warnings: Usual criminal minds occurrences, blood, gore, descriptions of dead bodies, angst.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader.

Word count: 1,324.

My eyes ached with lack of light and straining, my limbs had fallen numb long ago from the binding holding my arms and legs to the cage I was cruelly crammed into. I could barely keep my eyes open as I was left to stew in the remains of other victims. All of my energy had been spent on trying to fight back for the first two days I had been stuck here. As far as I could tell I was on day seven and I couldn't help the feeling of hopelessness that overloaded my fragile systems. The reports were clear that the man kept his hostages for a week before torturing and killing them. My body was so close to giving in and letting go.

I winced slightly as the door slid open and the all too familiar, sound of heavy boots descended towards me. I readied myself as he trudged over, kicking pieces of rotting flesh around, before dragging me to my feet by my hair and throwing my, already beaten, body against the wall of the basement. I groaned as my head slammed against the wall, sending my vision blank, and struggled to breathe as the air was knocked from my lungs. All too soon he got bored of throwing me around and resorted to carving into my skin, sending searing pains down my torso from the wounds. He dragged it out, enticing every sound of pain from my being to maximize his pleasure as I wallowed in self-pity and agony.

After a few minutes of slicing, he gave up, opting for clenching his hands around my throat and cutting off my air supply up until the edges of my vision were turning black around the edges. Just as I was about to slip into unconsciousness, he released my throat and watched with a sick fascination as I spluttered and gasped before doing it all again. Time after time, he smirked as I struggled to catch my breath, the metallic taste of blood crawling up my throat. Occasionally, he added his blade to the torture making it last even longer.

Although I knew it was coming, each slash of the blade sent a feeling of shock and terror down my spine. My mind forcefully zoned out as protection against the intense pain. I managed to gather my remaining strength, scratching at his arms wildly as my eyes bulged in fear. I could hear myself choking for air, my chest rattling and suffocated whimpers encasing the room.

Just as I was, once again, on the brink of passing out, we heard doors slamming open and yelling overtook my gasps. I gulped air down as he dropped me to my knees, agents filled the room, covering the exit and cornering him. I massaged my throat, ignoring the tears that streamed from my eyes and heaved sobs. The overwhelming feelings and unfamiliar faces set my mind into panic mode and I could feel myself reaching for my hair and tugging on it to keep me spaced in reality instead of having a panic attack and passing out.

Everyone was a blur as they moved around, arresting my kidnapper and moving to crouch around me. I couldn't tell what they were saying: their voices sounded like they were underwater which only added to the panic of not being able to breathe properly. I attempted to bring their faces into focus, noticing glimpses of concerned looks but began to feel overly claustrophobic, clenching my hands around my knees whilst I felt my body rock back and forth.

After a few minutes, I managed to calm myself enough to fully see their faces. My eyes widened: they all looked stern and, in a way, furious. The only one who was the total opposite was a tall, thin man with slightly wavy, longish hair. He looked gentle, concerned and a lot less intimidating than his teammates. I instantly stood up, pushing past a tall, African American man and hiding behind the tall, gentle-looking man.

Once more, I was startled when they all turned to face me. They must have thought I was about to run away. I only moved because I was scared and being shielded by someone who looked trustworthy seemed like my best option. I watched as his body tensed as if he didn't know how to react but I stayed in the same place, beginning to hyperventilate.

"I'm going to need you to move away from our agent. I know you're scared but do you think that it's something you can do for me, then we can get you outside and in an ambulance?"

I gazed at the dark-haired woman as she placed her gun in her teammate's hands and took a small step forward. My breath hitched and I stumbled back, shivering and attempting to cover my body, having only been in my underwear. Eventually I backed into the wall of the basement where an old body was hanging. I couldn't help but let a scream slip past my lips as I spun around and saw the face of another lifeless girl. I covered my mouth as I sobbed to myself, forgetting about the team behind me for a few moments.

"It's okay Prentiss, I got this one." My chest heaved from the stench that radiated from the dead girl and I jumped as a warm hand rested on my shoulder, trying to turn me around gently.

"I need you to look away. Can you do that for me? You don't need to see that anymore okay?" The gentle man stood before me, looking dead into my eyes and then began to take off his bulletproof vest: recognising I wasn't a threat to him. He proceeded taking off his woolly cardigan and putting my arms in it before buttoning it up. It was a little long on me because I was a lot shorter than him so it fell to the middle of my thighs.

"I'm Spencer. Your name is Y/N isn't it?" He spoke, prompting me to give him an answer so I nodded slightly. "Okay, Y/N I need you to hold my hands. I'm going to walk you out of here and to an ambulance. You can walk, right? Or do you want me to pick you up?" I blinked and took his outstretched hands, taking a deep breath of the rancid air and cringing internally.

"S'okay I can walk it." Whispering under my breath, I stepped towards him and buried my nose in the collar of the cardigan, much preferring his calm scent to that of rotting flesh. My flesh burned from the open wounds and I worried that my blood might ruin Spencer's cardigan. I could tell by how worn the wool was that he wore it often, probably meaning it was his favourite or at least one of them.

Once we reached the outside, I was swarmed with medics and my heart raced but Spencer tightened his grip on my hand slightly and wrapped the other around my shoulders. I leant into him, wincing as I walked and lay down on the gurney inside the ambulance, not once did he leave my side. As they removed the cardigan, I lost sight of him as they began to stitch and gauze the wounds on my torso.

It felt like hours before they were finished and had driven us to the hospital. When we had arrived and been situated in an isolated room, Spencer came and sat by my bed with a book. The two ladies, from his team, sat together in the corner of the room, asleep on each other's shoulders and I smiled softly at their peaceful faces.

"You should get some rest too Y/N, I'll be here when you wake up." That was the last thing I heard as Spencer's hand tightened around my own and I drifted off into a restless sleep.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds oneshot #reader insert #x reader

143 notes · View notes

angelsanarchy · 1 month

Text

Fever Dreams: Mike x Y/N One Shot Series PRT 09

Tagging: @icarus-star @chainsawgvtsfvck @romanroyapoligist @liquidsmoothdomme @madamemaximoff06 @drazenka @blacksoul-27 @444rockstargf @kappasbbgirl @luzclarita57 @tempt-ress

Mike had gotten in a little later than he expected but when he went upstairs to get a fork to eat his dinner, he found Leff was also sitting at the table eating. He sat down next to him and started eating silently for a few moments before Leff let out a sigh.

"Why is it that I was eating in peace not even 5 minutes ago and then you sit down and I can tell you want to chat about something." Leff looked at Mike.

"I didn't even say anything." Mike pointed out.

"It's the way you carry yourself, like you got fucking emotional baggage that wafts off you. It drives me nuts." Leff put his beer to his lips and Mike chuckled.

"I might have emotional baggage but you're fucking wound up like a fucking drum man. Relax a bit. Enjoy your gruel." Mike tossed his head towards Leff's food which looked strange.

"I'll be sure to let Y/n know you think her food is gruel you prick." Leff said as he went back to eating it.

"Y/n cooked that for you?" Mike asked in disbelief.

"Yeah she knows how to cook and I don't have time so when she makes extra she gives it to me. Don't put your hands on what's left. I'm eating that tomorrow." Leff warned.

"What even is it?" Mike made a face and Leff rolled his eyes.

"It's beef stew and potatoes. What are you fucking blind?" Leff tilted the bowl down and Mike shrugged.

"I don't have a lot of home cooked meals man, relax." Mike chuckled.

"Yeah well all that bullshit fast food will kill you. You know we got that fucked up heart shit in this family." Leff looked back down into his bowl and kept eating.

"I don't know how heart health meat and potatoes is." Mike watched Leff cut his eyes at him and he put his hands up in defeat.

"Can I ask you a question without you losing your shit?" Mike tried and Leff dropped his fork in his bowl.

"Can a man just eat food in his own kitchen without being pestered?" Leff looked annoyed but Mike continued.

"Mom...how the hell did she hook up with Y/n? I mean she wasn't a..." Mike trailed off unsure of whether he wanted to know if his mom was a stripper or not but Leff shook his head.

"No God no. I'd have kicked her ass. She was buying out of the club that Y/n worked at. Y/n would stumble across her when she was leaving and make sure she hadn't OD'ed in the alleyway. Eventually I had to give her my number so I could pick her up from the hospital or her apartment." Leff explained looking a little more mellow when talking about his sister and Y/n.

"So she just decided to take on Mom in active addiction just because?" Mike didn't believe everyone had simple goodness in them, especially not in New York. He had only been here for a while and he had been cussed out more in the last few weeks than in his entire life.

"You know how your mom was. She could make friends with anyone. She was always gabbing with strangers. Y/n just happened to be the one she liked to talk to." Leff scrapped the bottom of his bowl.

"Y/n told me that mom wanted me to meet her so we could date." Mike said watching Leff's face carefully.

"You couldn't handle a woman like Y/n, man. She's got baggage to the 11th degree." Leff snorted.

"Everyone has baggage." Mike returned knowing that he's not the picture of a perfect date either. Leff focused his gaze at his nephew.

"Baggage that would crush you...her exboyfriend was that hulk sized bodyguard at ER's place. The one who stood silently and wanted to murder me with his fucking eyes. He's a roided out piece of shit who considers prison time a vacation." Leff explained.

"Well it's not like I would take her out to a strip club Leff." Mike chuckled and Leff shook his head.

"She used to get the shit kicked out of her Mikey. The amount of times she called for your mom and I was picking her up bruised and bloody was beyond the number of times you've had a cigarette." Leff pressed making Mike look at him. He could actually see some sympathy in Leff's eyes, which was rare.

"I'm not a shitty guy though. Maybe she could use someone like me." Mike suggested.

"I'm telling you, move on man. That's not a scab you should be picking at." Leff pushed up from the table and tossed his bowl in the sink before leaving Mike sitting at the kitchen table alone.

He looked at his takeout and suddenly realized he didn't have much of an appetite. He knew that he could treat a woman right in a relationship. He had never put hands on one in his life. He didn't believe in it but for some reason, Leff made it seem like Y/n was too broken for someone who wasn't as rough as she was.

He knew Leff would be pissed if he kept bringing up the idea of pursuing Y/n but he didn't care. He was grown and so was she. Mike wanted nothing more than to treat her how she should be treated.

#Film: 5lbs of Pressure #5lbs of Pressure #Fever Dreams #Fever Dreams series #One shot series #Mike #Mike x Y/N #Rory Culkin #Culkin Cult

42 notes · View notes

jamneuromain · 1 year

Text

No Use Running

Andy Barber x You / Reader

Warning: NON-CON/DUB-CON, Dark Content, Smut, Angst and Smut, Alternate Universe - College / University, Teacher-Student Relationship, Professor!Andy Barber, Student!Reader, Student!You, Clit Stimulation, Pet Names (Angel), Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, Overstimulation, Angst, Angst With A Happy Ending, Dark!Andy Barber, sex toys, vibrator, bondage element

Word count: ~4k

Summary: What are you going to do when Andy is mad at you?

A/N: Big shout out to vera @rogerswifesblog and her amazing moodboard, both help me tremendously with the conversation in bold, also help me spiral a thought into a 4k smut. Fair warning, lots of angst, which surprises me, really, because I was mostly thinking of the smut when talking to vera (sorry not sorry XD).

Dancing in the Daydream M. List

A year into your relationship, Andy has only one rule for you.

One rule, and one rule only.

Don’t get drunk when you are partying with your friends. If you are partying, tell him beforehand in case he gets worried about you not coming home.

Just this one rule. Don’t get drunk, call him first.

Simple as that.

In your defense… face it, you have no defense. You screwed up. Big time.

You were so excited about the little getaway your friends planned (and told you about it the minute your last class of the semester ended “we’re partying tonight guuuuuuurl”) that you completely forgot about the rule of “calling Andy”, and happily got yourself more than tipsy.

“More than tipsy”. That’s an understatement. Your very last memory about the night was you doing shots with your friends. You find yourself in the shared home of you and Andy in the next morning, lying comfortably in bed with a minor migraine and fresh PJs, trying to remember what had happened.

Tipsy? You were wasted.

Knowing Andy? If he was home last night, he’d be so mad.

You search for your phone around your pillow, finally locating it on the other side of the bed, linked to the charger.

Your gut sinks to the bottom of your stomach. You’d charge your phone on your side. Your phone is now on Andy’s side.

Oh no.

Oh nonononono.

This is bad.

This is very bad.

This is Godzilla versus King Kong bad.

You can honestly hear every ounce of your luck shatters when you turn on your phone and a dozen missed calls from Andy pop up, dating back to last night and this early morning.

Holy fucking shit.

You are doomed.

Andy has already left because he has a full schedule today.

You frown as your phone gone cold. There was no message asking whether you have woken up. No sticky notes on your forehead as usual if you are sleeping late, telling you that he left a sandwich for you in the fridge. No nothing.

He’s really mad.

You frown more when you find excessive food in the fridge. Some leftover beef stew, chicken kabab, and a whole lemon cheesecake. That’s strange. Andy’s not the type to cook excessively.

And no sandwich.

You make yourself some food to eat and clean the house for a bit.

Your memory pieces some fragments together. You remember stumbling into Andy on the porch. You remember dancing in the club, raising your shot glass, and giggling with your friends.

Your memory is still incoherent and you don’t know what happened exactly.

You vacuum the living room, read for your upcoming assignment, and finally, you decide to cook dinner to show that you are sorry.

Leaping up when you hear his car pull up in the front, rushing to the door to welcome him home: “Hey Andy. How’s your day?”

Andy has a large box under his arm, which you pipe up to help him carry it and put it anywhere he wants.

“Just an average day.” He pecks you on your lips, insisting he carries this on his own. You are nervous as hell when he doesn’t smile, not even after kissing you.

You peek at the box, can’t help but ask as you see the black tape circling the cardboard box: “Amazon? What did you buy?”

“Nothing important.” He shrugs, heading up the stairs with the big box.

Maybe he’s not that mad?

You cross your fingers, hoping that everything works out with luck on your side.

Dinner is as uneventful. However, you can feel that he is distracted and uncharacteristically quiet. Andy used to say what he doesn’t want or what he doesn’t like. He’s vocal about your relationship, but this new Andy is so lukewarm that it is scary to you.

You choose to cuddle on the couch after dinner, playing a Netflix show as background noise on TV.

“I’m sorry about last night, Andy. I should’ve called you. I’m sorry.” You loop his arm around your shoulders, looking up at him apologetically, “and I shouldn’t get caught up partying either. I wouldn’t do that ever after.”

Something flickers in his eyes that you cannot catch. In the end, he says nothing, only tightening his grip on your arm, leaning for a kiss.

You rather wish he spanked you or edge you, just like what he did with your previous few wrong-doings. It wasn’t fun but you know he wouldn’t hurt you. You’d rather have him cuddling you after rough sex than to have him ... distant?

You deserve it, to be honest, you know he’d be angry with you.

You only are aware of how angry he is the second you step into the bedroom.

He is fixing the four cuffs tied to the bed, black leather with shiny metal chains. The now-empty Amazon delivery box lies wide open on the floor, giving you the slightest clue of what could have been inside.

Spoiler alert, you didn’t have cuffs in this house. He used to tie you up with his ties.

“Oh good, you’re here.” Andy smiles, for the first time today. He unbuttoned his cuff link and his collar to adjust the length of the metal chains. This normally looks extra hot to you, but knowing what could be waiting for you, you just want to run.

You carefully take a sneaky step back, “umm, Andy, I know you are mad. And I’m so very sorry.” Another step back. “But we can talk this out.” Another step. “Pl-Please don’t be mad?”

Andy rests his hands on his hips, his blue eyes icy cold.

“Sit on the bed, Angel.”

“Andy-” You visibly gulp, tensing all the muscles in your body so that you can dash to the stairs the second he drops down his guard.

“Don’t make me fuckin’ repeat that.” He shoots back at you.

You are going to die on the bed for all you know. You are going to be edged to the brink of your life. A chill runs down your spine, every sense in your body warning you of the menacing danger you are faced with.

“Please, Andy, we can talk this out, I’m begging you.” You plead to him, slowly dragging your feet to the door instead of the bed, “please, Andy.”

Your fight or flight response kicks in the second he prances on you. Of course, you choose to run from him.

You barely make it to the stairs when he grabs your wrist and halts you by your waist, clutching your body so tight like you are a prey struggling for its life. Your heart nearly leaps out of your throat. Your body, although unwillingly, clings to him for dear life, fearing that he slips and drops you on the floor.

“Andy, please! I’m so sorry! I won’t do it again!” You yelp when he throws you onto the bed. You try to sit up when he clasps your ankle with one cuff, you are forced to lie down when he clasps your wrist with another cuff.

“Can’t believe you even tried to run - save it, Angel. You’re in for a long night.” He huffs disapprovingly.

Clasp. Clasp. All your limbs are secured and tied up. He didn’t even bother to take off your nightdress, only pulls your panties to your ankles.

You think it couldn’t be worse.

Oh but it did.

He takes the vibrating wand from the bedside drawer and loosens his belt.

You watch in horror as he fastens his black leather belt around your thighs, squeezing the wand between your legs, where it nestles on your clit.

“Andy-”

“See, Angel, I was planning to hold that wand myself,” he kisses your forehead. The darkness seeps back into his eyes. With a flick of the remote on his phone, the wand buzzes to life. A warm grin on his face, he retreats to the corner of the room, where he sits on a chair and opens his laptop, “too bad I need to work first.”

The vibration is low yet brutal. It triggers your body into moving your hips to avoid it, not that there is much space to move. Without his kisses and skilled fingers working your body, your pleasure builds up high and dry, your skin heats up reluctantly, seeking the attention it deserves.

“Andy-” You choke when your squirming accidentally has the wand brush your clit again, “please, I’m sorry.”

He glances at your frame briefly; his eyes soon return to his laptop. Crispy strokes from the keypad seem to be mocking your fruitless begging.

Your core twists in agony. It doesn’t take much to force an orgasm out of you.

“Pleaaase, Andy, please don’t edge me.” You whisper, moaning when the stimulation to your clit brings a fresh wave of arousal pooling down your pussy. Your channel expects his shaft, but you get nothing. Tide riding higher in your veins, rushing to your core, you are on the verge of cumming any second.

He raises his head from the laptop, a smirk curls his lips when he dials the vibration up a notch.

“Andy-!”

The buzzing grows louder, no longer a soft vibration, but a stronger torture to your clit.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t cum.” He buries himself back into his “work”, his calm voice ghosts your ear, “you can cum as many times as you want. You’ve got all night, Angel.”

Your hips buck into the air, pressing your clit tightly on the wand, drawing the first orgasm out of you. Your body bounces on the bed as the orgasm hits you, doing all it can to run from the incessant stimulation on your clit. You wish you could run, but you are chained to the bed,

“Andy, please.” You cry out, tears rolling down from the corner of your eyes, “I-fuck-I said I’m sorry!”

The loud snap when he shuts his laptop makes you shiver.

“The thing is,” Andy sits perfectly still, he watches you writhing on the bed as the second orgasm builds up, "I don’t think you are." His tone barely contains his anger, “bet you totally forget about what yesterday was, huh?”

“Wha-”

“It was supposed to be our one-year relationship anniversary.”

Your brain stops working altogether.

Oh no. It was.

You started dating around this time last year.

You didn’t think you were doing an anniversary this early. If you are counting from the day you became boyfriend and girlfriend, you are two months away from your anniverisary.

“I cooked for candle-lit dinner and bought roses and shit, and what did you repay me with?” He crosses his arm and scoffs, “no texts. No calls. Get fuckin’ drunk with boys.”

Your mind clears its fog, letting you remember you stumbling into Andy while waving goodbye to Mike (or Michael?), who volunteered to uber you home when you were all getting “tipsy”.

“It’s nothing-He just-oh fuck, he just came along to make sure I got home. I’m sorry.” You whimper, your sentence cut off as you feel arousal leak from your pussy, “I’m really sorry about-ah-what you planned. Please, please stop the wand and we can talk.”

His words drip with sarcasm, “and I’m just a poor old fool who thought I could capture a young girl’s heart.” Andy snorts, “that work out well.”

Even as pleasure gradually clouds your brain, you understood what he said and a pang of pain rips your heart to shreds. If you knew about his plan, no, if you remembered, or thought about your anniversary, it wouldn’t end up with both of you in agony.

This is all your fault.

“No, Andy,” you croak, trying to ignore the buzz between your legs, “don’t say that.” It’s not true. I love you.

Andy doesn’t reply to your pleading, his cold expression molded on his face again, “you asked me to be ‘thoroughly fucked’.”

You did, trying to peel him out of his black T-shirt, trying to have him kiss you, saying tons of things that you utterly regret now.

“You wanted it last night, no? Wish granted.” Andy growls, “now take it.”

He turns up the vibration again.

If the previous vibration was barely endurable, this time it is way beyond what you can handle.

You cum with a scream, tugging the chains with your tied-up legs. The rattling of the chains doesn’t stop when you finish cumming. You jolt and kick, as the buzz is incessant on your clit, and you are on your way to your third orgasm.

“Andy, I’m sorry.” You whimper, “it hurts.”

“I don’t give a shit.” Andy picks up a book on the table, glancing at you one last time before he shuts his mouth and starts reading.

Another orgasm hits. And another. You can’t tell what hurts more, your swollen clit or his indifference. You scream and plead, stammering between moans and words, some of them mumble into one. Your skin is coated by a sheen of sweat. Your body reacts to the wand with overruling pleasure above your mind, having you think of nothing but the sensation from your bundle of nerves. And then it starts to hurt. With every second of the wand between your thighs, your mind cannot decide if it wants more or to get away from the stimulation. Another orgasm punches all the air from your lungs. Your cry is silent, mouth agape, tears roll into streams, your body refuses for you to breathe in, running low in oxygen that your vision has spots.

The stimulation between your legs dials down to a full stop.

You draw in a lung full of air. Coughing as you feel your chest is about to explode.

Your body buzzes. Or your clit still feels the buzz ghosting your legs. Your pussy twitches, quivering as it feels cold, soaked with your arousal. Your chest rises and falls, your heart pounding by your ear, your vision blurry with tears.

You want to curl up to your side. Your body is stressing as if it has just run a marathon.

The tugging from your wrists and ankles reminds you, you can’t.

A pillow is stuffed under your head, helping you to breathe a little.

You blink a few times before you make out it’s Andy sitting by the edge of the bed.

He held your head, bringing a cup to your lips.

You swallow on instinct, nearly choking yourself when you are taking big gulps of water.

“…?”

His lips open and close, saying something that doesn’t make sense to you.

Or your ears are ringing so that you can’t hear.

“Wha-?”

“Still talking, I see.” He nods nonchalantly, “do you need more water?”

You shake your head.

He takes the cup, standing up to leave.

“Wa-ait!” You tug the chains desperately, trying to get a hold of him, “Sorr-sorry.” You sniff, “can’t. Can’t cum.” You realize how hoarse your voice is when you open your mouth to speak, like someone rubbed it on sandpaper. You feel sorry. You are sorry. You do. You just can’t do this anymore. Even if you are not screaming, your body is screaming bloody murder.

“Shhh, just a little bit more.” Andy coos, turning up the vibration again.

“No. No-!”

Andy watches as you make a mess on your shared bed over and over again. Your mumbling pleas and begs melt into crying and screaming. Arching your hips as your body reflexes, even though it adds to your misery. Your orgasm hits stronger and slower every time, lasting longer, depriving you of your breathing. You lean your head to the side, panting, struggling. Not out of your will, but when your body instructs you to.

Your thighs flex instinctively when he sits down and caress your buzzing thighs, which are still bound together.

“Don’t think about anything.” He bends down to kiss your belly, coated in sweat. His beard scratching your sensitive skin, having your core tensing once again. “Talk to me, Angel.”

Your brain is clouded. Hearing his voice, you mumble something that you don’t recognize yourself.

“Do you want this to stop?” His voice sounds muffled. Blocked. Like speaking, but with cotton in your ears.

But you understand.

“No-No-hmph.”

Your brain mushed. It hurts. You want more. Keep it going. Till the end of time.

Andy chuckles.

He dials the vibration down to a full stop. You, however, cry out again, one word slurring into another, “More. Want-more.”

He turns a deaf ear to your begging, unclasping his belt to reveal your thighs, having the belt digging into them so hard that leaves a red mark on both of them.

You burst into tears when he pulls the wand out between your legs. Your hips bucking for more pain and pleasure.

The wand is wet. From your arousal and your sweat.

Andy drops the wand to the side, unclasping the restraints on your ankles.

“More…” you whimper like a wounded animal, “more, Andy.”

Andy pries your legs open. Red marks from the wand between your thighs. A puddle of creamy arousal underneath you. Your legs shaking, trembling. Your pussy is red, swollen, covered in slick. Your clit puffy, peeking out from your pussy lips.

“More.” You mewl, as if that’s your whole vocabulary, “more.”

Andy kisses the red marks on your thighs gently, “you like that, huh?”

“Yes. More, Andy.”

Tears stain your cheek but you are about to cry again. Anything to have the wand back. To have something stimulate you to orgasm. Anything to stimulate you, burn your body with pleasure.

This is what he’s been waiting for. To overstimulate you until you are truly overwhelmed with pleasure. You will want more pleasure you can take until you pass out. You will agree to anything for it. Most importantly, you will want him again.

He unclasps your wrists too, prying your legs open more to touch your clit.

“Yesyesyes.” You grind your abused pussy to his hand eagerly, whimpering when he draws his hand back.

“My Angel…” He sighs, stripping himself out of his suit and trousers. His thick shaft straining in his boxers when you moaned and cried. He kneels on the bed, positioning himself between your thighs, hovering above you to kiss you, “my beautiful Angel. You’re mine.”

He sheathes himself in entirely at the last word, having you cry out. Having you moan his name. Having you digging your nails into his arm.

Your walls grip him. Sucking him in. Welcoming him with warm wet heat. Your walls crave his cock, craving to be filled to the brim again, craving the stretch and burn as you try to accommodate him.

The pain blends into your pleasure. You can’t tell them apart. His cock brushing your clit on his way out. Your walls convulse. Him slamming back in to rearrange your guts. Your walls clench down. He takes your long-ignored nipples into his mouth, sucking and tugging with his lips. You could only sob because of how good it feels.

You want more. You want him. You want his tip kissing your cervix.

“Say it.” He grits his teeth and spits out, “say it. Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours. I’m yours.” You chant as he knocks the breath out of your lungs, his shaft thrusting deeper, harder.

“That’s right, Angel.” He snaps his hips into you, “you’re fuckin’ mine. I’m the only person who can make you feel this good.”

He interlaced his fingers with yours, pinning your arm next to your head.

You stutter his name when you cum, your vision blacks out, everything is slowed down to a halt. You feel a few more thrusts, and his hot spent flood your pussy.

Then you drift to a dreamless sleep.

Your arms hurt. Your legs hurt. Your stomach hurts.

There’s not a fine muscle left on your body.

You curl yourself into a ball, facing the opposite direction of Andy, wincing as you hug your knee.

Your pussy hurts too. Sore and tired from the orgasms ripped out of your body.

Your eyes are dry as if the Sandman blinded you, but you still shed a couple tears onto the pillow. Some of them traveled across your nose bridge and blended into the tears from your other eye.

You can’t believe he overstimulated you. You can’t believe he punished you so hard for disobeying one rule. Most importantly, you can’t believe he had no faith in your relationship. After the class, after the drama with Laurie, after his participation and encouragement in your writing, he means everything to you.

The heartbreak from last night catches up to you, piercing your chest, so painful that you couldn’t breathe.

You open your mouth to ease the pressure of your puffy nose, but the pain just follows your breath like a knife, slashing everywhere it could reach.

You try to cry as subtly and quietly as you can, but your shaking body betrays you, having Andy push himself on his elbow to rub your arm.

“Hey. It’s okay. It’s just a bad dream.” He whispers softly.

He notices you are not responding, leaning closer to check on you: “Shit.”

He grabs the Kleenex box, places it in front of you, and moves to spoon your naked body, kissing your bare shoulder: “I’m sorry, Angel. I’m such an asshole.” Kiss. “I’m sorry. I pushed too far.” Kiss. “Please don’t cry, Angel.”

“I got too angry over the night before and…” he sighs, “I’m sorry I lashed out at you.”

“How can you say that?” You turn abruptly, staring at him with watery eyes, tears falling from your cheeks. You can almost hear your spine crack for turning so fast, “how can you say that like you mean nothing to me? Like I’m some gold-digging bitch exploiting you?”

“Angel, I-”

“You mean the world to me, Andy.” I love you. “You are everything I write, you are every reason I come home to, you are every piece of my heart.” I love you. “And I…”

Maybe it’s your insecurities. Maybe it’s the unsuccessful marriage of Andy and Laurie. Maybe it’s your stories that you are certain every hero and heroine would be the perfect match for each other, but you can’t be certain in real life.

You would return Andy’s excessive interpretation in class right back to his face. You would challenge him academically in his office. But you suddenly feel your tongue way too heavy to say the simple word, “love”.

Andy hears your silence.

Andy cups your chin, having you look him in the eye.

Andy, as a writer, knows there are a million ways of interpreting this silence, but choose not to.

He chooses to look at your bed hair, your puffy nose, your teary eyes, carving every detail into his memory.

He wipes the tears from your cheek.

“I love you, Andy.”

#andy barber #andy barber smut #andy barber x you #andy barber x reader #andy barber x female reader #defending jacob #professor andy barber #student reader #no use running #dancing in the daydream #dark!andy barber

635 notes · View notes