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juniperskye · 7 months

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Without You

Sneak Peek: Aaron and you have been dating for over a year now…the thing is, the BAU team has no idea. When Aaron does something reckless that could cost him his life, will you expose the relationship you have worked so hard to keep under wraps?

Aaron Hotchner x BAU Fem Reader

Angst/Fluff

Word count: 2371

Warnings: One use of y/n, age gap, mentions of anxiety/anxiety attack, some language, canon typical violence, mentions of death, explosion, BAU case details (similar to those of s7e23), severe emotional pain, mentions of Haley’s death, mention of Jack, secret relationship, JJ is still the media liaison (it just fit better for the plot) if I missed any – let me know!

Not edited - please be kind.

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

Aaron Hotchner had very quickly become your best friend. Your friendship had come so naturally, despite a pretty significant age gap. After two years of what could only be described as painfully obvious yearning from both parties, Aaron finally gained the courage to ask you to dinner. Even though it took two weeks before you could actually act on that invitation, the date had gone better than expected. Aaron had been a perfect gentleman; bringing you flowers, opening your door, holding your hand, paying for your meal, actually listening when you spoke.

That’s why it had been so easy to fall in love with him. Things with Aaron truly had been effortless, falling into a comfortable routine in which you would drive to his place after work, relieve the babysitter, get Jack started on homework while you got dinner going. Since meeting Jack, back before you’d even begun dating Aaron, you were one of his favorite people. You had spoiled Jack since you’d met the boy, he was just so sweet, and he’d reminded you of your nephews…it was easy to spend time with him. Aaron would come home to Jack helping set the table and you plating up the food. He’d wrap you up in an embrace and the three of you would sit and enjoy your meal while discussing how your days went (mostly Jack talking about school).

The one thing in your relationship that had not been effortless was keeping it a secret from your team. There had already been much speculation as to whether or not Aaron and you had feelings for one another amongst the agents. Dave was the one who pestered Aaron the most, constantly encouraging him to take a chance on love, that it wouldn’t always end like it had with Haley. In your case it had been Penelope, she and you had grown close over your time at the BAU, and she could see the tell-tale signs of a blossoming crush for your superior.

The two of you hadn’t initially planned to hide your relationship, but after many late-night conversations about it and a lengthy pros and cons list, you had determined, for the time being, keeping things quiet was the best option. That was nearly eleven months ago. You and Aaron had been together for about a year and a half, living together for four months…things had not been easy. You guys had to work hard to keep your feelings at bay on tough missions. There had been an instance of you getting stabbed by an unsub, thankfully the wound was superficial, and you were fine, but it had taken everything in Aaron not to run to you and take you into his arms. That was one of many hardships you had faced, but none of those would have prepared you for today.

A call had come in to the BAU at 9:53 am. The call rang to Aaron’s direct line, which meant it was a time sensitive case, usually a child abduction or in this case, a hostage situation. Aaron came out of his office swiftly, calling everyone’s attention without even speaking.

“There is a hostage situation at First Union bank. We’ve been called in by Virgina PD, who is already on the scene and SWAT is currently on their way as well. Everyone needs to gather their things and head to the garage” Aaron gave his orders, and everyone sprang into action.

As you all made your way to the government issued SUVs, Aaron continued briefing everyone and he gave out assignments.

“Alright Garcia and Reid, I want you two in the mobile command unit digging into our unsubs, we need to identify them. JJ, I need you to control the media with this, I don’t want any details getting out without my approval. Morgan and Prentiss go check in with SWAT and go over our plan. Y/N and Dave you will take point on the negotiations. Understood?” Aaron looked to everyone for confirmation.

There were collective nods, and everyone went to their separate posts to get started. You and Dave made your way over to one of the command center tents, discussing with the officers there that you would be in charge of the negotiations. They filled you in on what had happened thus far, and you worked to devise your initial approach. Dave and you had made contact with the unsubs, they were demanding a helicopter and one million dollars (a truly ridiculous request on their part). Approximately fifteen minutes later, Garcia and Reid rushed to where you, Dave and Aaron were standing.

“We have identified the unsubs! The two men are brothers, Michael and James Snyder. They are connected to at least eight other bank robberies around the northeastern United Staes. The woman, her name is Katiya Kuznetsov she is not connected to the robberies, but she is flagged under the FBI’s most wanted. She’s thought to be the mastermind behind dozens of explosions in North America from the last nine months.” Garcia explained. Aaron radioed to request the bomb squad.

“Why would she be working with these two? Robbing banks isn’t quite the same M.O. as blowing up buildings.” You questioned.

“We looked into it, and it seems that she may have connections to someone who owns a safety deposit box at this bank. We don’t know what is in it, but we were able to narrow down the list of potentials.” Reid answered.

“This changes things, we need to get in there and apprehend them. We need to get the civilians out. I think our best option would be for us to breach with SWAT and local PD.” Aaron explained.

“Hotch, that seems a little drastic don’t you think? If we just barge in there, who’s to say they don’t just start shooting the hostages. Dave and I were making progress and now that we know who they are, perhaps we can get them to break.” You could feel your anxiety eating away at you, the thought of Aaron barging in there terrified you.

“Sorry kid, but I’m with Aaron on this one. We were making some progress, but not enough and given this new information, I think it is safe to assume that there is probably a bomb in the bank somewhere, the sooner we get the hostages out, the better.” Rossi shut your idea down.

You could feel the bile rising up your throat. Your palms were starting to sweat and your pulse quickening. You knew what was about to happen, Aaron was going to give out assignments which meant he was diving headfirst into danger while he ensured your safety.

“Alright here’s what we will do, Morgan and I will go in the front, try to talk the unsubs down. Prentiss and Reid you will go through the back, with SWAT and the bomb squad try to locate the explosive and disable it. Garcia, I want you to keep eyes inside the bank the whole time, keep us posted of everything you see through comms. Dave and you can stay out here and monitor the phones, I want you to call in to distract them while we enter, I think it might buy us some leeway.” Aaron gave the assignments.

You gave Aaron a pointed look, one that expressed all of your nerves and anxiety. He looked back at you, it was stern as far as any onlooker could tell, but you could see the softness flash across his features. He was silently telling you that everything would be okay, and for a moment, you believed that it would be.

Time seemed to slow then. Everyone was moving, following orders hastily. But you, you were glued to your spot…Dave’s hand on your shoulder is what finally snapped you out of your thoughts.

“He’ll be okay kid.” Dave tried to soothe your nerves.

You called into the bank to try and steal the attention of the unsubs as Aaron had requested, all the while agents were moving through the bank. Suddenly Garcia’s voice rang over the comms.

“One of the unsubs slipped away. I’m assuming to get to the explosive. I am working to get the blueprints of the bank so we can figure out where it is set up.” Garcia rushed.

Gunshots echoed through the air, the comms were buzzing with shouts from Aaron, Morgan, Prentiss, Dave and some other voices you couldn’t pin down.

The fact that you could hear Aaron’s voice helped to calm your nerves as he clearly hadn’t been shot. His next words soothed your mind even more so.

“We have Michael and James in custody, Morgan is walking the hostages out now. I am going to go and assist the others in finding Katiya and the explosive.” Aaron called over the comms.

Dave could see you tense at Aaron’s words; he once again laid his hand on your shoulder in hopes to ease your mind. Morgan walked over to you and Dave after placing the unsubs in the police cars that were standing by.

What happened next brought your world crashing down.

The silence over the comms had been eerie. Everything paused and then it happened. The bank had exploded, right before your eyes. You had been far enough away that the blast hadn’t knocked you over, but it still left your ears ringing.

Had Morgan and Dave’s ears not already been ringing they definitely would have been after the scream that ripped through your body.

“NOO!!!!!” You screamed.

You couldn’t form a coherent thought; you sobbed and lurched your body forward in hopes of going to find Aaron. Before you could make it three steps, Morgan had his arms around your waist holding you back. He turned you around and held you while you pounded your fists against his chest.

“Sweetheart you can’t go in there. I know we have people in there and waiting for them to get out is going to feel like an eternity. But until we get any sort of confirmation, we need to try and stay positive.” Morgan explained.

Garcia and JJ joined you, Dave and Morgan, tears streaming down their faces, all of them silently hoping your team family would make it out unscathed.

You could feel it coming on, the more time had passed. Your breaths were shallow, body clammy, your vision was going blurry, you were having a hard time keeping yourself upright. Dave was the one to notice and lead you away from the group, he held your hands and was saying something about you needing to match his breathing.

“Dave I…I c-can’t. W-what if he doesn’t make it out? I w-would d-die without him Dave!” You hiccupped.

“He’s going to make it out. But remember that you are strong and no matter what happens you will make it through this.” Dave reminds you.

“No! Dave, you don’t understand without Aaron, sure, the rain would fall, the children would play, the tides would change but I-I would die.” You looked away from Dave momentarily “I die without you.” You whispered.

You saw heads start turning in the direction of the alleyway that was adjacent to what was once the bank, as you followed suit, the bile returned – easing its way up your throat. A body bag, with no other signs of Aaron. Your mind jumped to the worst-case scenario and your legs finally gave out. Dave tried to catch you as you fell to the ground, another gut-wrenching sob ripping its way through you.

You didn’t register the loss of Dave’s arms around your shoulders, not until he moved to pull you up off the ground and turn you in the direction of the group of agents making their way towards you. You tried to protest, telling Dave that nothing mattered anymore, until he physically turned your chin towards them.

“Aaron?” It came out as an exhale, below a whisper.

“Aaron?” This time was a bit louder, gaining your voice back.

“Aaron!” A shout this time as you could see his eyes scanning the crowd for you.

His gaze snapped to you as you ran towards him, looking him over to ensure that he is unharmed before you launch yourself into his arms. He lifted you fully and allowed you to wrap your legs around his waist, he could feel your tears soaking the collar of his shirt. He gently shushed you assuring you that he was okay and that everyone was safe.

“T-the b-body bag, I-I thought it. I thought it was you, Aaron.”

“It was Katiya, she was trying to detonate it when we found her, we had just enough time to get to some sort of vault, but when it went off, the debris trapped us in. Honey, I am so sorry I scared you. I’m alright though, not even a scratch.” Aaron brushed his hand over the back of your head as you brought your feet back to the ground.

He looked into your eyes, he could tell that your brain was trying to process everything, all the emotions you had just been feeling, along with the relief you must be feeling now. He couldn’t help himself when he leaned in and kissed you. It was a kiss that said I was terrified of losing you but we’re safe and here together now. As he pulled away, you rested your foreheads against one another’s.

You knew that there would be tons of questions from the team but honestly in this moment you couldn’t care less because Aaron was safe and back in your arms. This moment that you were sharing allowed a few things to become clear for you and Aaron. You knew that he was the one for you, nobody else, and you were sure you wouldn’t survive losing him. He came to realize that it was time for him to pull that ring from the back of his sock drawer and finally ask you for forever, he thought that maybe it was time for him to step back and take that promotion Strauss had continuously offered. All he knew was that he couldn’t risk what you two had. Without you…he couldn’t even finish the thought because that wasn’t even an option.

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tightjeansjavi · 9 months

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Slow Hands

**ON HIATUS**

Summary: Joel Miller thinks that your coffee shop in Jackson is a bit too “frivolous” for his taste until Tommy tells him one day that it’s the best cup of coffee that he’ll ever have. Little does he know..he’s going to get more than just a cup of coffee when he finally meets you. You soon find out that the grumpy old man with a rambunctious teenager, is hiding sugar sweet softness under layers of hardness.

Pairing | Joel Miller x f! Reader

Fic Warnings: angst, Joel is struggling to adjust to living a domestic life, anxiety, feeling like an outcast, grumpy old man! Joel, shy! Joel, kinda mean! Joel, sunshine reader, flirting, fluff, awkward situations, reminiscing on the past, eluding to death/loss, reader has no physical descriptions and is from Texas, reader has a nickname (beanie bc y’know coffee beans) no age gap, vulgar language, slow burn, friends to lovers, eventual smut, canon-typical violence, disturbing/distressing themes, flashbacks, trauma, implied SA/drugged (not by Joel but by a group of raiders) this is a fic that takes place post-outbreak so please keep in mind that there will be dark/triggering themes. Please read with caution.

Chapters |

Chapter 1 - Cuppa Love

Chapter 2 - an espresso a day keeps the doctor away

Chapter 3 - trust me to trust you

Chapter 4 - I used to float, now I just fall down

Chapter 5 - be still, my foolish heart

Chapter 6 - you’re like a mirror, reflecting me

Chapter 7 - the losin’ touch, the waiting game

Chapter 8 - if I ever were to lose you, I’d surely lose myself

Chapter 9 - when the monsters creep into your house

Chapter 10 - the lone moose

Chapter 11 - a wolf in sheep’s clothing

Chapter 12 the shadow of death

Chapter 13 I’ll crawl home to her

Epilogue days of you and me

Drabbles/One-shots:

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corazondebeskar-reads · 7 months

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you know you never stood a chance - chapter five

you know you never stood a chance series

five: steal from yourselves

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

qz!Joel Miller x f!reader

Words: 2.2k

Summary: You and Joel fight while taking Ellie to Lincoln.

Warnings: dub-con due to power imbalance, free use, sex as payment, vaginal sex, oral sex (m&f receiving), cum play, Joel is mean/bad with feelings, this is not canon compliant, no use of y/n, degradation, canon-typical violence and danger, mention of Tess, description of injury

also on ao3

He’s worse than a field of landmines.

You never know where you stand with him. One moment, he’s eating you out on the floor of a convenience store, his jacket under your hips to keep away the broken glass.

The next, he’s bitching about your eternal uselessness.

You get it. Sort of. The only purpose you ever served him was a set of warm, wet holes. Never mind the fact that he used to fuss over you. So now, out here, what good are you?

It’s that kind of thinking that makes you keep your mouth shut when you twist your ankle.

He’s there in a heartbeat when you fall, pulling you back up with one arm. You brush the leaves off your clothes and mumble your thanks.

“Dunno how you made it this long,” he grumbles. It’s a harken back to when you were sat at his kitchen table, broken wrist cradled in his gentle hands. It’s sickening, actually, to hear the venom in his voice this time around.

So you press on, ignoring the way your body is screaming in protest. Alarms blare, but you ignore them, keeping pace with Joel so he can’t find another thing to hate you for.

But Joel is Joel, and so when you stop for the night, he spies the swelling.

“Stubborn brat,” he says. “Coulda said something.”

“Oh yeah? What good would that have done?”

“How am I supposed to take care of ya if you don’t tell me when you’re hurt?”

You don’t look at him. You know it won’t last. He’s angrier more than he’s not these days, at least with you.

“What if we had to run? What if I counted on you to do something, and you got us all killed?”

Yep, there it is. You pull yourself up, sneering at him when your ankle protests. “I’ll save you the fucking trouble.” You grab your bag, and even though you know it’s stupid, you walk away.

You don’t make it far. The swelling has made it so much harder to walk, so you get around the curve of the street, about five houses down from the one Joel cleared, and slump on the porch. It has solid half walls, thankfully, so you’re concealed, and you don’t hear any noise or see any lights inside.

“That was fuckin’ rude,” Ellie says.

Joel’s head snaps to her from where he was still watching the road, the inky darkness of the moonless night having swallowed you up.

“Shut up,” he grunts.

“You’re just gonna let her go off and get fungified?”

“Ain’t my business what she does.”

Ellie rolls her eyes. “I’m just sayin’, it’s kind of fucked up.” But she settles down in her sleeping bag, too tired from the long trek to keep arguing.

You had just gotten home from work, still in your regular clothes, when Joel and Tess burst in. He was angry; she was loud.

They’d been bickering about some kind of pills, some kind of trade. You didn’t pay attention; they’d been very clear it was none of your business. Instead, you made a second cup of coffee with extra milk for Tess.

They were still arguing when you went to your room and shut the door. Your hands couldn't seem to unbutton your shirt, fumbling with each, until you gave up after the third and flopped on the bed. Fuck it. You were tired. And as much as you liked Tess, you were pretty sure this meant you weren’t getting fucked, and you felt a little petulant about it.

The door slammed. Your bedroom door flew open moments later. There was something in his eyes that scared you just a little bit. It also made you wet, so there was that.

“Why’re you still dressed?” he asked, already moving to rectify the situation.

“Dunno, didn’t seem like you were in a rush,” you said.

He had you peeled out of your shirt and pants and laid out flat on the bed in record time. He loomed over you, one hand grasping at your waist and the other wrapping around your neck as he bent to capture a nipple between his teeth.

You took a deep, shaking breath, a little dizzy from the barrage of sensations. He bit and licked your breasts, your neck, your chin. You moaned and squirmed under him until he squeezed your throat a little tighter, nipping at your ear.

He pulled away abruptly. “Need your mouth,” he said, tugging at you with the hand on your throat.

You scrambled up onto all fours and held your mouth wide while he stroked his cock a few times in front of your face. When his hand was out of the way, you replaced it with your lips, wasting no time in burying him deep in your throat.

You gagged, but held on, gut telling you he’d be more appreciative of your enthusiasm than anything else that day. You choked yourself on him, tears streaming down your face, but you were right. He rewarded you with a gentle hand cradling your head.

“Fuck, that’s it, good girl. Look at you, takin’ my whole cock.”

You moaned around him, warmth from his praise seeping down your limbs. It made it easier, somehow, for the head of his cock to batter your throat. He fucked up into you, grunting while you struggled to keep breathing.

When he pulled out, he didn’t bother to give you orders. He just shoved you back on the bed and parted your legs with his thighs. Grinning, he rubbed the head over your clit to watch the way you writhed for him.

“You want it, sweetheart?”

“Please,” you groaned, trying to spread your legs wider, be more accommodating. “Please, Joel.” You looked up at him with tears weighing down your lashes, lips turned in a pout.

He was too impatient to string you along, so he just smirked and pushed into your waiting cunt. You cried out from the stretch. Sometimes, it still burned and stung, like the first time, when he didn’t work you open first. Not that you could have waited that night..

There was something in the air you couldn’t quite identify. He fucked you open with vigor, but he was quieter than usual. He mumbled the occasional “good girl” when your moans betrayed a little pain, and his thrusts were smoother, deeper, like he was trying to hide something in your body for no one else to find.

He’d kill them if they tried.

He took you apart over and over, his thumb on your clit demanding your obedience. You gave him everything you had to give, sobbing when it became too much. He kissed the tears from your face.

“Poor thing,” he murmured, though it was not as cruel as he usually got. It was almost tender. He made up for it by returning a hand to your throat to coax another orgasm from your wrung-out body, biting at your breasts until you clamped down on him. He pulled out and covered your tits in his thick, milky cum.

He stayed over you, caging you in with his body. You were exhausted, eyes fluttering shut as you gasped for air. He took two fingers and smeared the cum all over your breasts, tweaking your nipples with slick-coated pads. When he was satisfied with his artwork, he stuck the fingers in your mouth.

You cleaned them off, humming softly at the buzz between your ears. He got up and tucked his cock away, looking down at you.

You forced your eyes open to see him. His forehead was creased, and his lips tugged down at the corners.

“Leave that there,” he said when he finally looked away, leaving the room without another word.

You lay panting on your bed, shivering a little as the cum dries on your breasts. He always cleaned you up after. Always.

You dozed off a little, startling awake when he entered a while later. You weren't sure how long it had been, but the sun had almost set. In the orange glow across your bedspread, he dumped an armful of… well, something. You couldn’t quite tell.

“Put these in your bag,” he said, rifling around in your closet and tossing the backpack at you. Clothes followed it, one of his long-sleeve shirts and a pair of sweats that unfolded in the air, smacking you in the face.

Your brain hadn’t caught up with him, still in the pleasant hallows of your dream, but your body knew what to do. When all else failed, it obeyed Joel Miller. You were dressed and standing before you were fully acclimated.

“Why?” you finally said, shoving handfuls of what turns out to be protein bars and batteries, bandages and clothing, and a flashlight into your backpack.

“Ya can’t stay here anymore,” he said, and you froze, a wounded sound slipping out.

“No,” he shook his head, “I mean when I’m gone.”

“Lead with that, asshole,” you grumbled. “But wait, then what—”

“You’re gonna have to come with me,” he said. He handed you a rolled-up sleeping bag, which you attached to the bottom of your backpack with the never-before-used straps.

“But why?”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to.” He didn’t want to tell you what one of Robert’s men had said, how he had known that you were naive and alone in Joel’s apartment twice a month.

The man was dead, but if he knew, then you probably weren’t safe there anymore.

“How am I going to be safer out there? That’s where you go, right, outside the walls?” You’d never asked before. Better not to know.

He grunted, which, based on the tone and volume, was Joel for “yes.”

“I haven’t been outside in fifteen years.” You didn’t need to tell him how little you knew, even then.

“You’ll be safer because you’ll be with me.”

You were scared. You couldn’t hide it; you knew he could see it carved into your face. It didn’t make sense; he wasn't some superhuman; he was not repellant to Infected or the horrors beyond. But you were soothed by the thought nonetheless.

You had the bag slung over your shoulder and were toeing on your boots when he stopped filling his bag from the kitchen and came back out to look at you.

“Look,” he sighed and shook his head. “You don’t have to. I won’t drag ya by your hair or anything. I just can’t protect you if you stay.”

“I’ll go wherever you tell me, Joel.” You didn’t mean to say it; your stupid, anxious mouth ran twice as fast as your idiot brain. But you found that you meant it.

“Don’t come cryin’ to me if you regret that.”

Well, you regret it now, but you’d die before crying to him about it, you think. You’re still buried in your sleeping bag on the porch, sun just barely cresting the horizon. You’re slumped down, saved from the damp, plastic carpet by the mostly intact cocoon. The porch is uneven, tilting to the right with decades of shifting foundation coming to haunt its shoddy construction.

It’s quiet. Birds chirp from somewhere as the dim light filters between the dilapidated carbon copy houses. You haven’t slept at all—too afraid.

A voice rumbles in the distance. Undeniably human, possibly male. For one second, your heart jumps, thinking maybe it’s Joel, and you won’t have to try to drag your ass back to him and grovel or find your way home.

And then you remember the reality of the situation. Chances are good that they moved on, and chances are even stronger that you’re not alone in this little subdivision. You don’t have time to wait and see what direction they’re coming from, let alone what they look like. You scuttle to the other side of the porch and jump from the top of the rail over the chainlink fence. You land hard on your side, trying to avoid actually breaking your ankle. It knocks the wind out of you, and there’s sure to be a bruise tomorrow, but you’re able to stand up and creep around into the yard.

There’s a back porch, raised high, with broken trellises along the bottom. At the far end is a garage, the sliding door hanging at an angle, and the regular door missing. Around the corner is an overgrown, dead garden, a doghouse, and the rusty frame of a trampoline.

They’re all shit options for shelter. But you’re not sure you could clear the fence from the ground without rattling it. You can hear boots scraping on the road, low murmurs spilling in their wake. Whoever it is clearly doesn’t want to attract clickers, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t looking for trouble.

You don’t have time to clear any of the hiding places. The garage and the porch are the highest risk for lurking Infected, but you don’t think you can fit quickly into the doghouse. You hear the sound of feet on the creaky front porch and dive for the garage, tucking yourself in around the corner from the regular door.

There are no Infected. There is a corpse, but it’s long gone to rot, skeletal and sickening, in a beach chair in the corner. The skull is shattered and jagged, and a revolver is on the ground. You sneak over and grab it. There are two bullets loaded and no more in sight. Hands wrapped around the grip, you press yourself back against the wall where you shouldn’t be able to be spotted from the house.

And you wait.

next chapter

*title from "Jars" by Chevelle

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfic #joel miller fic #tlou fic #tlou smut #joel miller smut #you know you never stood a chance series

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pathetichimbos · 1 year

Note

hiiiii

was wondering if you’d like 2 do a quick “where is she” type hurt&comfort prompt with thomas and/or bo!! maybe some victim vs slasher action thatd be funn

Includes: Thomas Hewitt / F!Reader

SFW

TW: Hurt / Comfort / Reader is kidnapped under false pretenses of being 'saved' / Their slasher bf does Not Like That / Canon Typical Violence

…

Hi! Thank you for sending in this ask and I hope you're doing very well.

This... Did not turn out to be a quick drabble, haha. I, as usual, got carried away. When I checked the page count I was at 12 pages and had only written Thomas' part, so there's that. I don't want to overload in one post, or keep you waiting any longer, and I'm currently struggling to write Bo's part at the moment, so I'm going to post Tommy's part for now and update this later with Bo. I welcome any pointers for his character, by the way, I've never written for him lol. Anyways... I hope y'all enjoy!

Quick side note: I just recently reached 300 followers!! Yay!! I'm so excited and happy that you guys enjoy my work <3 I'm going to try and start writing more often so please, send in all your requests! Thank y'all for taking the time to read my stories and follow me, it means the world to me.

Thomas Hewitt:

The Texas air was hot and heavy, as it was in most August days, weighing everything from the birds to the pigs down, not much of anything caring to move about in this heat. Even Hoyt elected to take the day off, currently lounging about on the front porch, beer in hand. Though that wasn't too unusual, at least now he had somewhat of an excuse.

Luda Mae was in town, running the store, today being one of those rare days where she took Monty with her so he could “get his stinkin' ass out of the house”, as she had so graciously put it.

Not even Thomas had a lot to do today, so the two of you were taking advantage of that, currently set up on the living room couch.

You were sitting on the back of the couch, with Thomas situated between your legs, mask off and hair down so you could properly comb through it.

It was late morning by this point, so the strongest wave of heat hadn't come through yet, and you had all the windows open to try and keep the air flowing through the house before it did.

The radio played an old song from its corner, echoing a woman's voice throughout the living room. You hummed along, gently separating another section of hair and spraying a light mist of water over it with a spray bottle so you could carefully brush it without hurting your husband.

Thomas currently had his head leaning against your thigh, partly to give your more access to that side of his head, and partly because he was dozing off from the mix of humming and having you gently work through the knots in his dark curly hair.

You finished brushing out that section, running your fingers from his roots to the tips a couple of time to be sure, before pulling it to the side to place in a loose ponytail with the rest of his untangled hair.

You could start feel the soft, deep rumble as Thomas began to snore, and let out a soft laugh.

He had a habit of falling asleep every-time you brushed his hair, enjoying the close contact and the chance to take his mask off and let his skin breathe.

You let out a soft hum and bent down to place a kiss on his head, rubbing your thumb along his cheekbone as you did.

You pulled back and continued to work, putting in even more effort to be gentle and soft as to not wake him. You carefully moved his head to your other thigh and began to brush the other side of his head, the brush easily combing through the knots, a stark contrast from when you initially started brushing his hair for him a few months ago.

After another fifteen minutes or so, you were finished, and pulled his hair together to give it a final brush through before setting the water bottle and brush to the side, sitting up straight to stretch your back and arms.

Thomas was still gently snoring, face pressed against your inner thigh as he continued his midday nap. You didn't really have the heart to wake him, but your ass was starting to fall asleep and hurt from sitting on the hard surface of the back of the couch, and it was getting close to time to start on lunch.

You let your hands run down his hair and to his shoulders, giving them a gentle but firm rub as you planted a kiss on his temple, speaking softly, “Tommy, baby, wake up. I'm all done.”

Despite what most people would assume, Thomas wasn't too much of a heavy sleeper, especially when he was on the couch, and that little bit was just enough to stir him awake.

He sucked in a shallow breath and let out a yawn, stretching his arms under your legs before hooking them over your thighs, letting his head fall back to look up at you with a sleepy smile.

“Good morning.” You joked with a smile of your own.

He hummed a bit and leaned over, pressing a kiss to your thigh.

“I've gotta start on lunch soon.”

He shut his eyes and let out a soft grunt of disapproval.

“Mhm.” You hummed back, running a hand through his hair again, “And then I've gotta--”

You were cut short by the rigid sound of the telephone ringing from the table behind you.

You sighed and reached around, pulling the base up and into to your lap.

“Hello?” You answered, holding the receiver with your shoulder while you idly played with Thomas' hair.

“Y/N? Could you put Hoyt on?” Luda Mae responded, skipping a greeting as she always did. After all, she's calling her own house, why should she have to say hello?

“'Course, Mama, lemme call for him.” You agreed, covering the receiver with your hand before yelling, “Hoyt, it's for you!”

No response.

“Hoyt?”

Nothing.

“Hoyt!”

Typical.

You reached down and tapped Thomas' shoulder, catching his attention, “Tommy will you go grab Hoyt? I think he's passed out in the rocker out front.”

He let out a disgruntled sigh but stood up, reluctantly sulking out the front door.

“Thomas is goin' to get him now, Mama, I think he fell asleep on the porch again.” You explained into the phone.

“Alright.” She sighed, “Just tell him to hurry up.”

After a few moments you could hear Hoyt yell from the front porch, followed by him stumbling in, still half asleep, with Thomas in tow.

“Phone.” You set the base back down and held out the phone for him to take.

“Who is it?” He slurred out, yet still grabbed the phone.

“It's Mama.”

“What the hell does she want?” He grumbled, before repeating the question to her, “What the hell do you want?”

You silently ushered Thomas over and grabbed his mask before standing straight on the couch to help him put it back on. It wasn't your favorite thing, having your husband hide half of his face, but Hoyt was awfully mean when he was drunk and it made Tommy feel more secure.

“Uh-huh. Alright. Yea. Yea. I'll be there in 'bout half an hour.” You could hear Hoyt finish mumbling and hang up the phone behind you before much too loudly announcing, “Thomas, get ready, we got supper comin' in down at the store!”

Thomas and you both let out a sigh. Well, looks like your day off was cut short.

There was a routine in place for days like these and falling into it was rather easy. You were placed on Hoyt duty, meaning you had to get his sheriff uniform ready to go and Hoyt sobered up enough to drive, and Thomas had to prepare the basement for the arrival of new guests, to put it delicately.

The two of you set to work, Thomas planting a quick kiss to your lips before tucking himself away in the basement, and you sat Hoyt down with a plate of carbs and a large glass of water to try and sober him while you tracked down everything he needed.

By the time you finished finding all of the things he carelessly threw around from the day before, he had sobered up enough that you deemed him safe enough to leave the house.

You assumed you had quite sometime before Hoyt would make it back, so you decided you'd take the time to get a few chores done beforehand, even though you knew it would upset Thomas if he found out.

It was his request that you stay in your shared room when Hoyt brought any new victims home, always worried that something would happen.

Normally, you listened to him, but the longer you waited the more chores would pile up. Besides, it would just take a few minutes.

You started with the dishes from breakfast, what with it being a lazy day and all, you figured you could do them at lunch instead. You had a couple of other things to clean up in the kitchen and finished it off with gathering the trash to take it out on your way to feed some leftover slop to the pigs.

Only an hour and a half. You smiled to yourself as you checked the wall clock, happy that you finished the chores so fast.

You dropped off the bag in the can by the back door and dumped the leftovers into the slop bucket that you kept beside it and made the short walk to the small barn out back where the pigs stayed, passing the chicken coop on the way.

The small pink pigs squealed with delight when they saw you approach, having gotten used to either you or Thomas being the ones to bring them food.

They gathered around the long feed trout that was set up in their pen, happily squealing in anticipation as you dropped the spoiled leftovers into their pen, each of them happily chowing down on the food. You kneeled down and patted one of their backs, one of the females, if her large, very obvious pregnant belly gave any clue. Tommy had noticed a while back that she was pregnant, and you gave extra care in keeping an eye on her.

You cooed after her, ushering her to eat all she could for her and her little babies, gently rubbing her back as she ate.

You sat up after a moment, stretching your back again before standing up and grabbing the slop bucket to carry back to the house.

You cringed when you picked it up, however, this time catching a whiff of the moldy food that caked the sides. Apparently it had been a while since the bucket was washed out.

You carried it out of the barn and to the side where one of the outside hoses sat, turning on the creaky faucet to wash out the bucket.

It was a messy job, and by the end of it, the dirt you once stood on was now mud and your shirt was soaked with a large splash of water. At least it helped cool you down a bit, being out in the heat like this was exhausting and you were already sweating.

You turned the faucet off and shook the bucket out a bit more before the sound of running footsteps caught your attention.

You turned back to the house, only to see a young man you didn't know running straight for you.

You jumped at the sight, taking a step back out of surprise and fear. However, when you did, your shoe hit the mud and you slipped, landing clear on your back and knocking the breath out of you.

You tried to take in a sharp gasp of air, only to be met with pain coursing from your spine to your chest, making it tighten.

You sat up, grasping at your chest and trying to breathe, tears streaming down your face, all while the man finally reached you.

“Hey, hey--!” He called out in a loud whisper, shaking as fear lined his voice and filled his wide eyes.

You shook your head no, pushing yourself back and away from him.

“No, no, it's okay, it's okay,” He raised his hands as he kneeled down, “I-I'm not gonna hurt you, I'm gonna help, I'm gonna help.”

You continued shaking your head and pushing away, desperately trying to breathe so you could scream for Thomas.

He ignored your obvious attempts to get away from him, and grabbed your arm, pulling you up and towards the back of the barn. You finally managed to pull in your first breath, coughing as he continued yanking on your wrist, practically dragging you across the dirt and grass.

There was a second door in the back and he found it easily, pushing you into the barn and towards the ladder to the loft where the hay was kept.

The pigs squealed in surprise, running around in their pen in distress as you tried to fight against the stranger.

“Stop! Leave me alone!” You pushed and pulled against his grip as he tried to shove you up the ladder.

“No, it's okay, I-I'm not one of them, I'm not gonna hurt you--” He ignored your pleas as he spoke over you, “I'm gonna help, I'm gonna help--”

You could feel the old creaky wood bend and groan against your back as he shoved you into the ladder repeatedly, trying to force you up there.

Sharp pain shot through your elbow as it slammed into the wall, finally managing to get your wrist out of his grip.

You ignored the pulsing and shoved him back, freezing when Hoyt's revolver fell from the man's pants.

You thought about diving for it, but he was faster, his hands in the air as he knelt down to pick it up.

“No, don't, don't worry, I- I'm not going to hurt you, I got this, before I ran--” He grabbed the gun and shoved it back into his jeans, “I won't hurt you, I promise.”

How stupid could this man be? Did he still not get it yet?

You were shaking, your racing heart almost loud enough to cover up the sounds of the pigs fearful squeals and Thomas' chainsaw echoing back from the front yard.

There was no way he'd hear you, not all the way back here, and definitely not in time.

You took a shaky breath and silently cursed yourself for reloading that same pistol before sending Hoyt off just earlier today.

Your mind started racing as you tried to think of a plan, your hands grasping at the air, looking him up and down.

He was on the younger side, early twenties at most, splashes of blood covering his open red button up and gray t-shirt. He was blond, making his light five o'clock shadow almost hard to see against his tan skin. His brown eyes were puffy and red, practically shaking with fear, his chest heaving and fists curled at his side.

“We, we've got to hide--” He took two bold steps towards you, “Before they come looking for us.”

You pressed yourself harder against the ladder as he did, taking in a shaky breath and nodding. He didn't know who you were, and you needed to keep it that way until you could escape.

You turned around to face the ladder, the old wood creaking under your weight as you climbed up, pushing the thick wooden door open with a thud before climbing in.

The scratchy hay dug into your knees and hands as you crawled further into the loft, giving the man room to climb in right behind you.

He immediately shut the small door and looked around, “We should put something heavy on the door.”

“B-But what if we need to get out quickly?” You countered, not wanting to make it harder to get out.

“It'll make it harder for them to get in.” He ignored your input and walked over to the nearest bale of hay, “We need to keep them out.”

You watched helplessly as he struggled to drag the heavy bale across the dusty wooden loft, finally falling down with a thud after he managed to cover the door.

“We can wait here until we get a chance to escape.” He crawled his way over to sit beside you, still shaking but seemingly calmer than before.

He swallowed and took in heavy breaths, trying to process the last few hours in his mind as you silently begged whatever god that was willing would help you get out of this alive.

You could've practically jump for joy when the familiar sound of a idling chainsaw and heavy footsteps against the barn floor became apparent against the calming squeals of the pigs down below.

You could almost feel the man tense beside you as he started shaking his head, quietly pushing himself away from the bale of hay that covered the loft door.

“No, no, no, no...” He mumbled to himself quietly, covering his own mouth as he pressed himself into the old wall of the barn.

You looked to the floor, Tommy's footsteps slowly circling around the barn, and felt a firm grip on your arm as the man quietly pulled you back with him.

“Shhhh.” He pressed a finger to his lips and pulled out the revolver, looking back to the bale.

It was your turn to shake your head, lifting your hands as you spoke, “No, no, it's okay, don't--”

He slapped his hand over your mouth as the footsteps stopped.

Thomas looked up, to the loft.

He could've sworn he heard a woman's voice, even over the anxious pig's squeals.

He gripped the chainsaw tighter, confusion overcoming him.

The victim Hoyt sent him after was a man, so, did that mean there were two of them? Had Hoyt somehow overlooked an extra person? It wasn't completely uncommon for him to make such a mistake.

He stayed silent, listening. There were no more sounds now.

He took a step towards the ladder, noticing the mud marks leading in from the open back door, even against the ladder.

The chainsaw weighed heavy in his hands, send vibrations through his fingers as he readjusted it to hold it in one hand.

He grabbed the ladder with his now free hand, the ladder creaking loudly under his weight as he took a couple of steps up, positioning the chainsaw to press against the door.

It didn't budge, so he squeezed the trigger, the chainsaw revving up and cutting through the old wood with ease.

He pressed further, the spinning chain suddenly flinging wood chips and hay back at his face with enough force to actually leave some small scratches on his exposed cheekbones.

He ignored it and moved the chainsaw in different directions, cutting at the hay bale that was apparently left on top to deter him.

Within a few seconds he was able to use the base of the chainsaw to get enough leverage to sling what was left of the door open, the remaining hay flinging to the side with ease.

He pushed himself up, grabbing a hold of the side of the loft's floor to help him balance as he pulled himself up with enough force so he wouldn't get caught off-guard by the two victims undoubtedly waiting for him.

His chainsaw slammed on the loft floor, still rumbling in idle as he stepped into the loft, deep brown eyes darting to the man sitting across from him, to the gun pointed directly at him.

He ignored the threat as he stood up straight, chainsaw tight in his grip.

“Don't come any closer!” His voice was unsteady, his hands shaking.

He took a step.

“S-Stop!” He stuttered over himself, thumb slipping more than once as he pulled the hammer down.

Thomas listened this time, staring the man down.

“Drop the chainsaw.” The man ordered, “Now!” His voice cracked.

Thomas did as he was told, the chainsaw hitting the floor with a loud thud.

“O-Okay, now grab it!” Thomas could hear the floorboards creak as the second victim walked up behind him.

His hand flexed as the footsteps stopped.

He could use her, as leverage, even a shield. All she had to do was reach for it. The moment she did he could grab her.

His eyes darted right and he saw dirty, shaky hands grab the handle.

His hand shot out, catching her with force as he turned.

You screamed, out of surprise and pain as Thomas gripped your wrist with enough force to bruise it.

Confused eyes met yours as he stared, his strong hold loosening out of reflex.

“Let her go!” The man yelled from beside you two, still pointing the gun at your husband.

He did.

He pulled back, fear and hurt in his eyes as he tried to figure out why you were here.

You hated yourself as you picked the chainsaw up, heavy in your grip as you dragged it away from him.

You walked closer to the man, the chainsaw sending vibrations through your hands and to your arms, turning them to jelly. You were unfamiliar with handling the large tool, only ever using it once before when Thomas had taught you how.

The man hurried to stand, still pointing the gun at Thomas.

“H-Here.” You offered, pushing it out to him, “I don't even know how to use this thing, I'll end up hurting myself.”

The man nodded, falling for your lie, “Okay, then you take this,” He shoved the gun towards you, “I can handle that thing.”

You switched weapons, Hoyt's gun feeling much easier to handle in your hands.

It wasn't light, the weapon weighing heavy in your hands as you slammed the butt of it against the man's head, a few drops of blood splattering against your hands and face as he hit the floor.

You turned to Tommy, letting the gun hit the floor as you let out a heavy, shaking sigh.

“Thomas--” You stepped over the man's unconscious body, arms wide as you threw yourself at your husband.

He met you halfway and slung his thick arms around you, clinging to you as he crushed you against his body.

You choked on a sob as you buried your face in his neck, hot tears streaming down your face out of relief.

He pushed his masked cheek against your head, pressing a kiss to your mud caked hair, his eyes squeezing shut as he tried to steady his breath.

He had been ridiculed, relentlessly beaten by bullies, threatened by coworkers, attacked by victims and almost killed dozens of times, but nothing compared to the fear he had when he saw you in that loft.

He couldn't understand why you were there. Had you randomly changed your mind and decided to leave him? After so long? Were you taken against your will, threatened and forced to do these things? Were you hurt, scared, afraid for your life while he was off doing what Hoyt told him to? What would've happened if he hadn't shown up? Did he scare you, or hurt you?

You pulled back just enough to place your hands on his cheeks, Thomas holding you up as you pulled him into a kiss.

You opened your mouth and he deepened the kiss, your hands snaking around his neck and trying to pull him even closer while teeth clashed and tongues fought to explore each other's mouths like teenagers sharing their first kiss.

You sighed through your nose, pressing your forehead to his as you pulled back to look at him.

“I'm so sorry.” You whispered, “I didn't think he'd be back so soon, I- I thought I had more time...”

His brown eyes were filled with fear and relief, feeling like he had almost lost you.

You cupped his masked cheek, letting your eyes flutter shut as you finally felt safe again.

It was a long time before Thomas let you out of his sight after that. He was glued to your side, overprotective and worried for months to come.

You often caught him staring at your deeply bruised wrist while it healed, angry and ashamed that he hurt you.

You constantly reassured him that you weren't angry at him, or scared that he'd do it again. He treated you like glass long after it healed, gentle and afraid, like you'd break into a million pieces if he didn't take extra care in his touches.

Needless to say, it took months before life went back to normal for you two, but after that, anytime any victims were expected, the first thing he did was safely tuck you away in your shared room before anything else.

#slasher fandom #slashers #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x s/o #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt x y/n #thomas hewitt x you #slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasher x y/n #slasher x s/o #Jamie Writes

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piratesfromspace · 1 year

Text

The Escape (Joel/Reader)

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader Rated: Explicit Word count: 2.9k Summary: You've been captured by slavers and thrown into the same cell as Joel. Note: I've been through a severe lack of energy and inspiration, but here is my take on Joel, featuring some sweet smut of course! This happens roughly 10 years after the Outbreak, so Joel would be in his 40s and Reader is in her 20s. Content: hurt/comfort, smut, almost-virginity loss, p-i-v, praise kink, alcohol, overall canon typical violence

MASTERLIST

When you’re thrown into his cell - an old bathroom, all broken tiles and rusted pipes - Joel gets tense, hand clenching harder on the shiv he improvised a couple days ago. He has no idea what the slavers are plotting. He’s been held in here for maybe one week now, hard to tell when the days are blending into each other, long boring hours only punctuated by a bottle of water and some food left on the floor without a word.

He knows his worth is in his strength and the slavers have no interest in letting him starve to death - that’s the only positive thing in his whole ordeal. He can’t believe he’s been stupid enough to let himself be captured. But he had reacted one second too late, and there were too many, and here he is, waiting to be sold to the highest bidder.

You land hard on your knees, unable to stop your pathetic fall on the hard floor, as the door of the cell is closed shut once again. He watches, ready to strike, as you scramble to get back in a sitting position - and then you finally notice him, standing tall in one of the corners, the glint of something undoubtedly lethal in the hand he’s hiding behind him. You try to get up on your feet, but your muddy boots are sliding on the tiles, your legs shaking with the effort - you’re clearly exhausted. Your hands are bound behind your back, leaving you with very little option. You push yourself back until the wall hits your shoulders, until you have nowhere else to go.

Joel is assessing your form very calmly, a stark contrast with the frantic terror pinching your brows. You look young, younger than him for sure, body lean from years of privation (like everyone else now), and he’s sure you could be mistaken for a teenager from afar - maybe you were when the Outbreak happened 10 years ago, but he can see the way your eyes are sunk, the fine skin under them puffy from a decade-worth of bad sleep and dirty conscience. Nah, you may be a child of the Apocalypse, but you’re definitely old enough to realize you’re in a shitty situation. Something like pity tugs at his heart - or more like recognition, the fire in your gaze despite the fear washing over your features, the will to push through the tiredness, the need to fight until the very end, even cornered and tied up. A mirror handed to him of what he was like at your age.

Maybe you can be useful, you can help him escape, surely you know a trick or two, or you wouldn’t have been able to survive this long - he tries to convince himself that’s the reason why he helps you. Why he walks up to you, crouches in front of your scared face and orders you to turn around. He has to repeat himself because you don’t want to listen but he does his best to not sound as harsh as usual, and finally, you understand and offer him your bound hands. He tugs on the dirty scrap of fabric, unties the knot with skillful fingers. He takes hold of your wrists before you can even move your arms, and for a second you feel the icy stab of panic and treason in your throat. Since when do you trust strangers?

“Easy there…” his warm voice rumbles in your back “Guess you’ve been like this for more than an hour, ‘gonna hurt if you move too fast.” he explains, while bringing slowly your hands in front of you. He’s right, you hiss a pained fuck when your shoulders protest at the change in position. He’s freaking close, his chest almost flush to your back, the rough skin of his palms still on your wrists. He suddenly lets go of you, gets up on his feet, and you turn on your knees to face him. He looks older than you, his temples already turning to gray. There is a gravity in his expression, like he stopped smiling 10 years ago and never did it again since - but still you catch a distant warmth in his soft brown eyes, behind his steely demeanor. His whole persona is a mix of hard and soft, exposed forearms showing off the chords of his muscles under a skin littered with scars, contrasting with the mundane patchy beard and the soft curls on his nape. He’s kinda handsome in his own way, even though he looks like someone who can do ugly things.

—

That’s the beginning of your cooperation. You had helped him, baiting the guard in pretending to be sick, and then he had used the makeshift knife to slit his throat, without so much as a second of hesitation. You remember the bright red blood spilling on the dirty tiles, staining the dried grout vermilion. It had been a while since you had seen a healthy human get killed up close. You had stood there, bile at the back of your tongue, ringing in your ears, until the firm command - move, come on - had made you join him. He had slashed his way out with too much ease, and had made you run for so long, you got sick the minute you finally stopped inside an abandoned house. You spat all the bile that had been bubbling in your guts, folded over the moldy kitchen sink. You had expected him to get disgusted and just leave you there to a very certain death, but he just took out a bottle of water from the backpack he stole during your escape and wordlessly handed it to you. He did not have to do that, he could have kept the precious resource for himself. You still wonder why - it wasn’t out of selflessness, definitely not out of kindness. You guessed he needed someone to stay awake and keep watch so he could sleep a little. Useful - you were useful.

He brings you back to the QZ because that’s where you’ll be safe - safer at least. Shielded from the slavers and the raiders and the biters. Definitely not from the corrupt FEDRA guards, the local traffickers, the ruthless fireflies - and really, any individual ready to take advantage showing how thin the veneer of civilization truly was in the first place.

You stay in his small apartment because you have nowhere else to go. Even after you start working and earning your part. At first, he slept on the couch so you could have the bed. But one day, after a gruesome double-shift, he comes back home so exhausted he just crashes on the mattress without realizing you’re already there. It’s not the first time you sleep next to him. You had to during the trek back to the QZ. Only way to keep warm. It was utilitarian, nothing else. Still, it meant you trusted him enough to close your eyes in his presence. You still do.

When you wake up the next morning, you feel him pressed against your back. Either him or you had sought the other’s warmth during the night. You have to admit you slept pretty well. You’re usually freezing and he’s just… warm. A solid wall radiating heat behind you. His slow breathing is keeping at bay the usual rush of anxiety you get when you wake up every day to discover this too long nightmare is indeed reality. You guess you had to have a similar effect on him because dawn is already lighting the room with its dull glow and he’s not awake yet.

That’s the beginning of another level of your relationship - you don’t want to give a name to whatever strange alliance is going on between you. Still, night after night, he keeps going back, and you let him, welcome him silently in your bed (actually it’s his). You should be scared, he’s but a man, and if he was any other man, you would know that he’d been expecting something from you. Expecting you to offer your naked skin and your warm body in exchange for his protection. But it never comes. Joel seems very content in being able to lay there on his mattress and share his warmth with you. You can even see how he glares darkly at that FEDRA guard who keeps talking to you for any reason possible. How he makes sure you’re home as soon as the sun sets.

And then, one day, you’re on his sofa sharing some whisky - the nice one, the real one, a 20-year old bottle he traded - and it says a lot he’s even sharing it with you in the first place. Joel is in a good mood, he cracks a couple awful dad jokes, and you laugh, so hard tears leak on your cheeks. He doesn’t think, just swipes them with his thumb, calloused pad of his finger on the sensitive skin just under your lashes. He lingers there, looks at you with hooded eyes and you know you’re royally fucked. He looks so good, the warm light of sunset on his tanned skin, his hair mussed, making him look a bit younger. It makes you forget he’s almost two decades older - but what does that even mean today? Life - death - is no longer this linear thing, and there is no one left to scold you about your partner’s choice. Nobody cares anymore. Yet he cared for you. So you decide to indulge in this desire that has been brewing in your chest since the moment he untied you in that damned icy cell.

He’s kind of a jerk with it, lets you do all the work. Maybe he’s just too scared you would feel forced to accept what he wants to offer. But you soldier on, you kiss him with all the fervor of your youth, climb on his lap, and keep licking his tongue until he finally dares to take charge. Joel tastes like the bourbon discarded on the floor - sweet and rich, smoked spice and the desperate furor of someone whose will to live only surpasses his devastating grief by a short inch.

You sigh in his mouth, the relief provided by his touch welcome but not enough to quench the pent-up thirst you’ve been harboring for years now. He must feel it because when your slightly shaking fingers are hastily working the buttons of his shirt open, then diving straight to the fly of his jeans, he stops you.

“Wait”, he rasps, a hint of worry mixed in the molasses of his voice, “please tell me you have done this before”.

“Yeah -yes, yes… just -it’s been a long time. Like, not since the ‘break…”

“Fuck.” he answers, head lolling backward against the sofa, and you’re sure you screwed up. No way he’s gonna want to do it with an almost virgin. For your defense, after a few experiments with your then-boyfriend from before the apocalypse, your possibilities were quite limited. You focused more on staying alive than romance. More on avoiding men than courting them. Years went by and no one came who you could trust enough. Until him.

“Please, Joel” you kiss his cheek, his neck. “I want to feel good just for a bit”, you beg him, because the thought of him leaving you like this makes you wanna die of shame.

You feel more than you hear him growl, the rumble of his chest making you shiver against him. He grounds his hands on your waist, presses the rough pads of his fingers into your supple and warm flesh.

“Remove your clothes”, he finally commands. Your jeans and sweater are thrown on the ground without second thought. You’re naked while he just pushed his pants low enough to free his already leaking cock.

“Joel…” your gasp dies in your throat when he crashes his mouth on yours again. He’s… big. You haven’t seen a lot of cocks in your life, but you’re pretty sure he definitely has bragging rights. He feels burning hot and surprisingly soft in your palm, pulsing in time with the frantic beating of your heart.

He’s not especially careful when he parts your folds, long fingers pressing against your clit in a couple of crude circles before pushing inside you. The intrusion is nothing like you remember. It burns in an addictive way, and when he crooks his index toward your belly, and presses his thumb on your clit, you let out a whimper that makes him groan in response. His other hand has threaded itself in your hair, and he uses it to hold your head steady.

“Eyes on me sweetheart” he urges. His lips are parted, the glint of his canines echoing the predatory gaze he’s pining you with. It’s been barely a minute and you’re already panting, feeling your orgasm build up at an impressive pace. You muffle your cries against your palm, unwilling for anyone on the other side of those cardboard thin walls to hear you.

“Come on, don't get shy now.” he rasps, voice thick in his throat. “Wanna hear you when I make you come”. Reluctantly, you remove your hand, finding purchase on his shoulders where you sink your short nails, trying to contain the molten wave of pleasure washing over you. The orgasm is brutal, your whole body seizing as Joel keeps on grounding his thumb cruelly hard on your clit, the fist on your hair tightening even more as he praises you throughout. It hurts so good you don’t remember sex could even be like this.

You’re barely down from your high that Joel manhandles your pliant body until you’re under him on the couch. He’s still clothed, his jeans scratchy against your bare legs. His fingers follow an ugly scar on your flank - you got this one pretty early after the end of the world, it’s still itchy sometimes, you don’t really want to talk about it - and you hear him mumble how pretty you are, more for himself than for you. “Joel” you plead again and he snaps out of his haze, voracious glint back in his eyes.

“I’m here, I’m here” he repeats, guiding his cock against your wet slit. He stops just a second to ask if you still want this, and you beg his name again. Finally, he pushes inside you, fills you in one slow motion. You can’t stop the litany of fuck escaping your mouth. It feels like he’s splitting you in two, molding your flesh to him. The stretch is a lot, makes your brain short-circuit. “Breathe” he instructs, his fingers - still wet from your desire - finds your cheek in a soothing gesture. “Stay with me”, he adds, voice low against the dainty shell of your ear.

Joel fucks you slow, way more gentle than when he had his fingers buried in your cunt a few minutes before. He pushes your knees apart, hikes your legs high on his waist, almost folding you in half. It still hurts a little, but the pressure feels good, even better when one of his hands finds your clit again. Your soft moans fill the air between you, warm with whiskey and need. One particularly powerful snap of his hips and his cock touches something bright inside of you, awakening feelings you had even forgotten about. He keeps rubbing the delicate and swollen flesh just above there you’re joined, and you already know your second orgasm is not far.

You seek his mouth, demanding for him to kiss you, as you bury your hand in his soft curls, where early swirls of gray ring the end of his youth. A sudden burst of need and yearning and almost sadness shots through you. It’s not only about being intimate with someone after all those years. It’s the emotion of trusting another human enough to bare your body, to let them come close, to show vulnerability - not in the form of the pain and the gruesome you’re both accustomed to - no, the real vulnerability that lies in the will to share something good, something mundane and beautiful, sinful and sacred. The illusion that everything will be alright, that, in the next seconds, you both have nothing else to care about than your common pleasure, than the warmth of the other’s skin, than this silly and dangerous thrill you’re willing to offer. You’re opening your legs as much as your heart, and you know it’s going to wreck you in the most stunning way.

You come with a whisper of his name against his lips, like a secret prayer, an oath that in this instant he is all you believe in. He follows you in your bliss just after, considerate enough to pull out and cum on your belly. You forgot how messy all this can be. But the sight of his cum on your skin is also a bleak reminder of reality - you better not get pregnant now. He must sense your distress because he cups your cheeks gently, kisses you again.

“Stay with me” he says, echoing his words from a few minutes earlier, when you were stuffed full with him. Except this time, you think you understand what he means - what he truly means.

You think you feel him smile in the kiss.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #joel the last of us #joel tlou #pedro pascal imagine #joel miller x you #tlou hbo #joel miller #joel miller fic

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din-miller · 1 year

Text

Dress For The Job

Pairing: Din Djarin x gn!reader

Word count: 1.6k

Summary: You're used as bait during a mission on Nevarro. Din isn't pleased with the situation

Warnings: angst mixed with a good amount of fluff, gender neutral reader but reader wears a dress, married couple, hardcore flirting, badass reader, his first name is Din, canon-typical violence, implications to sexy times.

Nevarro's typically mellow near midday, more accustomed to the elderly citizens dawdling through the markets, reminiscing on their younger years as the wind blows a faint breeze and the local bakeries flood the marketplace with their fresh aromas.

According to Greef, pirates have been stealing from the marketplace, breaking into people's homes and ransacking them. There have been three reported deaths in the last two months.

That's where you and Din come in. You've both been hired to track down any pirates and turn them in.

That was two weeks ago. When you and Din dropped off Grogu on Tatooine with Peli, you both promised to be back in a few days.

A few days, four at most.

Not two weeks.

You're definitely paying a hefty interest rate when you do pick up the kid. It's a good thing Greef is willing to pay you handsomely.

You could tell the High Magistrate was getting antsy the longer the pirates roamed Navarro. Din wasn't much better. During the days he would be tracking every lead possible, during the nights you would hold him in your arms and tell him to breathe.

You weren't much better, really. There's this frustration that's humming through your body. An anger that's boiling in your veins the longer you're away from Grogu.

Last night was the hardest night you've had in a while. Din had finally given up on his newest dead end lead and crawled into bed with you. He pulled you against his chest, which fell and raised with each unsteady breath. He missed Grogu and the cracks in his voice as he spoke had you crying into his chest, his own tears falling into your hair.

Maybe that's why you had agreed to Greef's newest plan the next morning without a second thought.

Under the hot sun, warmth seeping into your black shirt, you're definitely starting to regret saying yes. Kicking a small stone you mumbled under your breath, "Standing around waiting to get kidnapped. Not exactly the highlight of my life."

Through your earpiece Din huffed, definitely still displeased with this plan, "Just stay focused, Greef said they should be here today."

"They better be, I'm not sweating through my good shirt for nothing." You sighed, armpits already feeling sticky, "I've never been used as bait before. Am I doing a good job?"

Din doesn't answer. Which isn't a surprise. He's been ignoring you since you took Greef's side and stripped yourself bare of all weapons but one to stand in the middle of the marketplace to be discovered by a group of pirates who've already murdered three people.

Okay, putting it that way does make Din's reaction understandable. Greef had worded it better.

"Mando, it's going to be okay, I promise. Besides I'm armed and you're only a few blocks away if it goes south."

"I know, cyare, but that doesn't mean I have to be happy that my riduur decided to put themself in a dangerous position."

You want to point out that he did the same thing back on Tatooine cycles ago. Played bait for Cobb Vanth. You're not going to though, not when his breathing is heavy through the earpiece like it's taking everything in him to remember how to take in a steady breath.

You quickly glance over to where he's hidden from view a few rooftops over. You sent him a look, one that reassures him that you'll take every safe precaution available.

You're not offended by the way your husband is acting like you can't handle yourself. You both know you can, you've done it dozens of times before. It's just his nature to worry; about you, about Grogu, about his friends.

You start to lazily stroll through the marketplace, keeping yourself in Din's line of sight as much as possible.

You've kept the line open – Din doing the same on his end – and you do your best to minimise your lip movement when you speak, "I was thinking maybe after this we could relax on Sorgan for a couple weeks. That'll be nice, wouldn't it?"

"Focus."

You rolled your eyes at that, "We haven't been back there since our honeymoon, or at least our version of a honeymoon. Most couples don't normally fight off raiders during their romantic getaways."

There's a soft chuckle from Din's end, "When have we ever fit into the category of normal?"

"I still have my wedding dress," You commented, enjoying the way his breath hitched at it, "It's been a few years but I'd imagine I could still fit into it."

"Cyare."

You grinned at his warning, you know he's recalling the moment he first saw you in the dress, "Like you haven't thought about it before. We share the same bed and you occasionally mumble in your sleep."

"I do not, i- it doesn't matter, please just focus–" There's a second of silence, then your name and a string of curse words fell from his lips, "They're here."

Your chest tightened. It doesn't matter how long you've been chasing down bounties, there's always a moment of fear that settles in your bones.

"Where?"

"South entrance. Three males, all human, all armed."

Rocks crunch underneath your heel as you sharply turn to face south, "Three? Huh, I figured there would be more, I'm kind of disappointed."

"Considering it's just you down there only armed with a blade, three is too damn many."

For a second you wish you could pull him into your arms, tell him it's okay with delicate touches. You can't though, so you settled on a soft 'I love you' and tried to gain the attention of the three men.

"I'm not drawing their attention." You're getting frustrated. Eyeing the closest clothing booth, an idea sprung to life, "I need to stand out more."

Grabbing a dress to change into, you head into the small fresher. You'll pay for the dress later, right now you're on a time limit.

"What are you doing? I don't have eyes on you." Din's voice is octave higher, a clear sign that he is beginning to panic.

"I don't think I'm in much danger inside the fresher, honey."

The dress is a little complicated to put on, multiple straps that seemingly do nothing functional, but it's definitely flattering on you. It highlights curves you didn't even realise you have.

"Yeah, because pirates are known for their decency." Din grunted, eyes scanning every little crook and nanny around the small fresher, "What did you even get anyway?"

"You'll see." You smirked to yourself. You're well aware you're attractive, Din tells you often, normally followed by a little worshipping, sometimes sexual, sometimes not.

The dress has a slit which makes the knife strapped to your thigh easier to grab if needed. Which you hope it isn't, you're not in the mood for things to get bloody.

With a quick glance in the mirror, chasing away any lumps in the dress' fabric, you swiftly exited the fresher. There's shocked sputtering coming from Din's side of the comm. Your heart fluttered happily, satisfied with his reaction. Probably more than you should be, but heck it's not every day you get to dress nicely.

When Din spoke again you could tell it's through clenched teeth, "What. Are. You. Wearing?"

"Oh, this old thing? It's just something I found." You smirked, sending a wink his way before sobering up, "I have eyes on them. I'm going to get their attention and try to lead them down a back alley."

Din sighed, shifting to allow his weapon to follow your pathway, "Please be careful. I'd rather not spend the night stitching you up."

You hummed and couldn't hold back one last teasing smirk, "Is there something else you'd rather be doing tonight?"

"Don't get stabbed and you'll find out."

You blushed, cheeks burning a pretty pink colour, "I'm holding you to that, babe."

Unfortunately for you, things did end up getting bloody. Fortunately for you, you didn't end up getting stabbed.

You dropped the last guy just as Din came barreling down the alley. You have your boot pressed against the pirate's chest underneath you, not that it was necessary since he's unconscious, and your knife is sliding back into its holster with a flick of your wrist.

You beam up at your husband, hand gesturing to the three unconscious men around you, "What do you think? Not bad huh?"

Din shook his head, voice almost urgent, "Are you hurt?"

"Not a drop of blood," You reassured him as you used the man underneath you to clean off the dirt on your boot before stepping back, "Might have some fancy bruises tomorrow morning but that's expected."

With a sigh, Din started gathering the men up for Greef to come deal with, "I'll apply some Bacta when we get back to the ship. I want to be gone by nightfall, I'm afraid Peli might file for adoption papers if we're not back soon."

She wouldn't but the thought of it made you laugh, "Hey she can have split custody if that means we can take a trip to Sorgan." You bumped your hip against Din's as you pass him, "How about you wait here for Greef and I'll go return this dress."

A hand quickly wrapped around your waist stopping you from leaving and your face is suddenly inches from Din's. Your husband kept a hand around the back of your waist as the other slowly trailed up your spine.

Your breath catches, pupils blown wide. Your both not normally one for public display of affection, but the way his helmet quickly fogs over at your warm breath has you not caring.

Finally his gloved hand reaches the top of your spine and your dress is yanked back, a quiet snapping sound hits your ears. You pulled back from his embrace with a frown.

Din brought his hand around and hanging from his thumb and index finger is a small cardboard rectangular object, "You can't return things without the tag."

You can't help but snort at his antics, "That's not how that works, babe."

Din shrugged, "Maybe not, but we have roughly thirteen hours before we touch down on Tatooine and I want to see how pretty that dress is all spread out on our bed."

And fuck, you just saved their planet, at the very least they owe you a dress.

#mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin x gender neutral reader #din djarin #Justice Joy Writes #angst and fluff #married couple #married couple | the mandalorian #the mandolorian x reader

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yanderes-galore · 7 months

Note

May I request a yandere scarecrow concept?

Please and thank you!

You requested no specific version of Scarecrow so I kept it general. So this takes from no specific comic, series, movie, or game. Defaulted to romantic to make things easier. This feels a bit lame but I struggled to figure out where to take this without repeating myself.

This one certainly dips into more sadistic horror territory... perfect for Halloween, lol.

However, I did use this lore video.

General Yandere! Scarecrow Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Sadism, Manipulation, Violence/Canon-typical violence, Drugging, Forced affection under the influence mention, Kidnapping, Psychological torture, Forced relationship (?)

The most basic understanding of Jonathan Crane is he's a man that takes sadistic pleasure in the fear of others.

He uses his fear toxin to manipulate those who inhale it, making them see nightmares.

All hallucinations for the most part, but in mass quantities it can be deadly.

Since this is no specific version, I can't find a specific plot for this concept to take place.

However, maybe you were a patient of his at some point or some poor hero he decided to target.

Crane seems like he'd be very manipulative of you due to his toxin.

How he feels towards you, no matter how you meet, is he sees you as another victim.

Another person to manipulate and leech off of with his fear toxin.

Yet over time, as his obsession takes place, he starts to see the beauty of your fear.

What Crane usually does is drug others up on his toxin before torturing them for his own pleasure.

With you, it's different.

When it comes to you Crane just wants to observe you scramble about in complete hysteria.

The sight fills him with a new craving.

He likes that you seem so helpless and at his mercy.

It satiates yet another sadistic desire in him.

He may even interpret as you needing him to rely on.

After all, he's the only one who can make the drugs stop!

I feel the core behavior of a Yandere! Scarecrow would be him making you compliant with his fear toxin.

You have no idea where you are or what's real and the fear that's radiating off you is delicious to him.

Crane shows up as you own personal devil.

That or some sort of comfort in your nightmares, depending on how he feels.

The end goal is certainly to manipulate you into needing him for one reason or another.

Messing with your mind enough may just achieve that goal.

Really the only one that can save you from this situation is Batman himself.

Crane would get distracted by Batman due to him being the only one that scares him.

Which means Batman can scoop your disoriented body up and flush the toxin out of you once you're safe and out of Crane's reach.

Your first meeting would be through this way no doubt.

Crane decides to pick you to play around with, only to be interrupted by Batman ruining the fun.

Crane ends up developing a need to find you.

He finds your fear appealing, you look so cute in your fearful state.

To watch you scampering for help is joyful to him.

When he pretends to play your savior through your nightmares is funny to him as you stare at him with dazed eyes.

It's a shame Batman ruined such a new feeling.

Oh well... he'll find you again at some point.

Well... he does!

Many times, actually.

This is what develops his obsession.

This urge... this need to manipulate you into needing him drives him.

He wants to drag you into a never-ending pit of fear.

Yet he also wants to cage you in his arms and never let go, like a monster digging its claws into its prey.

Crane's obsession appears like it would be primarily sadistic in nature.

At least... that's how I see him based on what I've seen.

In a way he begins to care for you but overall finds you more appealing under his toxin.

The more he gets his hands on you, the more he finds sadistic pleasure in you pleading for him to help you.

He falls in love with the way you turn to him.

He can't help but reach out and hold you as you shiver, cry, and scream due to the toxin.

It's all a melody he loves, he almost wants to lean in and kiss you while you struggle.

He may just do it.

Crane is one who grows more attracted to you when you're afraid.

Call it a... kink of sorts I suppose.

The idea of restraining you comes to mind.

He alters doses of the toxin to make sure you don't hurt yourself.

If he wanted to hurt people, he can choose others.

When it comes to you he just likes to watch you scared.

In his eyes he plans to become close to you... close enough to be a lover in his eyes.

I say in his eyes as to you... he's your captor and torturer.

He hunts you down specifically.

To the point he's just chosen to lock you away to inhale toxins all day.

You're terrified in general... but even more of him.

While you suffer hallucinations and your mind betraying you, Crane sees you as a partner.

The man has a sick interest in you, occasionally kissing and holding you while you hallucinate.

Maybe there's times he relents and lowers your dosage... but for the most part, he's in it for the fear.

Maybe he'll even grow to love you without the toxin in your system.

For the most part, Crane's obsession involved indulging in his fear filled fantasies with you.

It's unknown if he's fallen for you... or your fear.

It's hard to see him as caring yet he cares about you to some degree.

For one reason or another... the Scarecrow has fallen for you...

Once he finds you... he doesn't plan on letting you breathe another breath of fresh air if it means he'll see your beautiful fear all of the time... for as long as he wishes.

#yandere dc #yandere dc comics #yandere dc villains #yandere jonathan crane #yandere scarecrow

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bippot · 5 months

Text

Summary: How many times does Vigilante need to get injured before Harcourt finally gives in and hires a medic to help out with the squad's injuries? Far too many times, that's how many.

When it's uncovered that a fancy hotel is linked to, not only what's left of the legion of butterflies, but also a string of weird deaths and missing persons reports, the only two for the job are lovesick Adrian and the newbie.

Additional Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Gun Violence, Blood and Injury, Undercover as a Couple, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Summer Vacation, Butterflies, Alien Invasion, Stitches, Weird Biology, Creep in a Bathroom, Aphrodisiacs, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Drugging, Peeping, general weirdness, Human Experimentation

Peacemaker, Adrian Chase Masterlist - here

Previous chapter: The Bee’s Knees

Almost as if she was about to pet a wild animal, Y/N moved so slowly as she cupped the back of Adrian's neck, droplets from his wet hair falling onto her fingers and sliding down her wrist as she did so. His lips parted slightly in wonder, but then quickly he blinked them shut again and swallowed a big nervous gulp of air as he tried to regain control over himself. He was drooling and couldn’t seem to stop himself.

“Champ, you need to tell me if at any point you want to stop or things are too much, okay? If you do, we'll stop. If you want to take over, you can take over, I just...” she trailed off, trying to find words that would reassure him. It was a weird situation that she was still coming to terms with. "Promise me you will tell me, please."

He looked up at her through thick eyelashes, and even though the expression on his face didn't change, it felt like there was a whole other world behind those lids now. She could almost hear him thinking, 'thank god!' and that thought caused some of her anxiety to melt away just a little. He did give her a small nod of his head but it wasn't enough.

"Out loud, baby," Y/N urged gently, leaning forward to press her lips against his forehead. “Need you to say it for me.”

"Please! I consent to whatever you want to do to me... just help me!" Adrian choked out in one trembling breath, and then his hand came up to grip at Y/N's shirt, holding himself steady. Y/N could see how badly his hands were shaking, and she wanted nothing more than to wrap herself around him and never let go.

If Harcourt ever found out, she'd be in trouble. Yet, how could she just sit there and watch him double over in erotic pain?

No, she had to act. A tiny part of her brain whispered that this might not be the greatest idea in the long run, but once she finally used her grip on his neck to tug his lips towards hers, all thoughts of rationality disappeared.

Obviously, they'd kissed before. So many times before. An uncountable amount. This one was different. It felt deeper and dirtier, filled with promises of more - a lot more - to come.

Adrian couldn't go any longer without Y/N surrounding his every sense and yanked her by the hips onto his lap, pressing her entire body into his as if she was the only thing anchoring him to reality right now. She responded automatically, letting her thighs straddle his and wrapping her arms around his shoulders to make sure they were flush together with virtually no space between them, practically sandwiching each other as they kissed like their lives depended on it.

For a moment they seemed to fuse together seamlessly, the tension dissipating between them as they allowed themselves to forget everything but each other's mouths moving over and under and around each other in an endless, mindless rhythm. Until, eventually, they broke apart and Y/N pressed her lips to his cheek over and over again as her fingertips began moving down his chest, and down even further till they reached the top of the towel wrapped around his waist.

"Shall I take this off?"

"Fuckin' take it off," he growled, his own voice sounding gruff as he ran his hands over her back, pushing her shirt upwards. "Off me, off you. Just take everything off."

So, she did. She removed the top half of her clothes as quickly as she could with Adrian holding her waist tightly in his arms, his nose finding itself between her boobs as soon as they were revealed to him. His hands slid underneath the back of the waistband of her trousers, his palms sliding to grip her ass firmly as he pulled her closer, his thumb drawing patterns into her bare skin.

"Let me just -" Her hand slid between their bodies to tug the towel out of the way. "Oh baby, that looks so painful," she mumbled, wincing once she got a look at how uncomfortably aroused he was.

"Hurts so bad," he whimpered, biting his lip hard enough that Y/N was worried he was going to break the skin. She gently pulled at his bottom lip with her thumb to unhook it from his teeth.

Carefully moving off his lap to wiggle down her trousers, Y/N intended to get to her knees when she was undressed but was stopped. Adrian gripped onto her hips as though she was a delicate glass statue that he would accidentally break if he let go of it for even a millisecond and just stared at her with unblinking green eyes.

"Just taking a mental picture in case this never happens again."

It was a quiet, hesitant statement. It was as if he feared she might reject him or laugh in his face at what a dork he was being right now. But all Y/N did was laugh and roll her eyes fondly before she leaned forwards to kiss him again because how could she not? He was really fucking adorable.

Somehow, he got even more desperate this time - his hand ran up and down her sides as his mouth attacked hers roughly like she was the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted. He felt so lightheaded when her hand began travelling up his knee, up his thigh, the tippy tops of her fingers slid along his shaft until she took him into her palm and gave his cock a gentle squeeze.

"Oh my gawd!" he moaned, throwing his head back, which bared his throat and gave her the perfect opportunity to suckle at the spot where his neck joined his shoulder.

The noises Adrian made were definitely hotter now they were up close and personal. They were primal and desperate, and they drove Y/N insane with lust as he writhed under her, his hips bucking wildly in an attempt to chase his release.

Kneeling between his legs, she pulled back and swiped away the string of saliva connecting them. He watched her with the biggest lovesick eyes she'd ever seen in her life, his pupils blown wide and dilated until they were mostly black. He looked like he was about to explode, his breathing uneven and rapid, the sweat trickling down his temples as he tried not to cry out.

"Please, Y/N, oh God, please. Please..." he begged, the words falling from his lips in broken spurts that made her heart ache. "I need to cum, I need... I need... Fuck!"

He clenched his jaw tight in frustration.

"I can't -" He groaned, his head dropping onto her shoulder with a heavy thud. A tear spilled down his cheek and Y/N caught sight of it in her peripheral vision.

"Do you want me to stop?" she asked anxiously. "Should I stop?"

"Don't stop, just... More...need more."

"Okay baby, I'll give you more."

Y/N stretched to kiss his sweaty hip once more before her tongue licked up the length of his shaft, circling and licking around the tip when she reached it. Adrian tensed when she took him into her mouth and started to bob her head in a steadily slow rhythm, he moaned and his body began to shake as the pleasure he'd been trying to release built up inside him.

"Mmm...can you take a bit.. a bit more...? Fuck!" he panted, clutching tightly at her shoulder when she did as he asked. "God, fuck, that's it. You’re so nice to let me fuck your throat like this -"

His sentence was interrupted since Y/N took him all the way into her throat and he couldn’t hold back another high-pitched whine. It was like his restraint snapped and was released all at once, and he fell backwards onto the couch in a boneless heap, gasping for air, his head falling heavily back onto the cushion, his legs spasming slightly as he lost control. He couldn’t contain the loud moan that left his lips nor the way he unloaded everything he'd pent up into her mouth.

Once she'd swallowed her mouthful, her palms were soothing his shaking thighs, rubbing circles to help calm him down.

"Feel better?"

"Better. Still not great but definitely better."

Hazarding a look at his junk, she could see that the situation was still in an upright position. At least he was significantly less bulbously red now. And he wasn't unconsciously drooling anymore, either.

That's good.

"Let's move to the bed, champ. Get you all comfy," Y/N muttered. Adrian nodded wordlessly as she helped him to his feet, held his hand as she guided to the bed and pushed his shoulders down so he'd sit. Like he did in every aspect of his life when it came to Y/N, he followed her as if she'd put a leash on him and he did it with the biggest, most lovesick eyes anyone had ever witnessed.

"I'm sorry I was so stupid about the chocolate. Wish this could've been, I dunno, more romantic." He shrugged and looked away all bashful. "I would've preferred if you actually wanted to have sex with me."

"I want to have sex with you," she reassured, reaching out for his cheek and caressing it lightly with her thumb. “Champ, I think about having sex with you so much that sometimes I think my brain might implode.”

Adrian snorted - an awkward disbelieving snort that softened her entire face - and he found himself pulling Y/N closer to press their foreheads together affectionately. The heat radiating from his body was almost scorching against hers, his skin warm and rough against her soft skin, and the scent of him intoxicating her, making her stomach flip and churn.

"Me too,” he admitted, “like, way too often.”

"I know you do. I can tell when all those dirty thoughts about me appear right here in this pretty head of yours.” Her smile widened mischievously and her forefinger tapped his temple for a moment, before resting against his lips. "You get this stupid grin, then you start to shift in your seat a bit, and whenever you do, your eyes widen and you just stare at me as if I'm the only woman in the room."

"Does it weird you out? I'll stop thinking about you all the time if you wan-"

"It doesn't weird me out, baby. It makes me feel... special. Makes me feel desired."

"I lied before. I don't think I'll ever stop thinking about you all the time."

She melted. There was no denying that.

An "Aww" almost slipped past her lips but she managed to catch it in time so she didn't end up embarrassing him at a vulnerable moment. Yet, he seemed to get the message when her eyes became as big as saucers and her breath hitched in shock, a flushed a bright pink shade adorning her cheeks.

"Oh."

"Yeah..." he chuckled nervously.

What if this confession just fucked everything up? What if this was a mistake and he'd regret saying anything because it had suddenly become so real? They were a great fake couple, but what if they were an awful real life match? Did he truly deserve her after all he'd done? Was he even worthy of being her real partner?

As soon as Adrian finished voicing all these thoughts to himself in his head, he could hear Y/N's giggle bubble up from inside of her chest and before she even had the chance to say a single word, he was being pulled into a deep kiss that filled the both of them with nothing but pure bliss. Adrian's arms wrapped securely around her waist and her hands gripped tight onto his shoulder as he tugged at her bottom lip with his teeth, coaxing her mouth open. She opened it willingly, her tongue brushing against his and tangling themselves together in a messy mess that made his head spin and his body tingle.

"Do you know if the weird sex hamper had condoms in it?"

"If I knew it was a weird sex hamper, we wouldn't be in this situation."

Fair point. Y/N attempted to go and check the gift basket but as soon as she'd taken a step away, he was whining, "Come back... please?" and reaching for her wrist to pull her back towards him. Her laugh vibrated through her whole frame.

"I'll be two seconds, ya big baby."

"Too long."

By the time she'd said, "Suck it up," she'd already found out that, no, the gift basket didn't contain condoms. It was filled to the brim with sex toys, though. The layer of chocolate on top had done an excellent job at hiding what was below.

There was three different kinds of flavoured lube, a dildo, a vibrator, two buttplugs, a lingerie set that was disturbingly in Y/N's exact size, rope, a flogger with the name and logo of the hotel on the handle and a little square packet that looked like a condom. It wasn't.

Y/N ripped open the foil to find that she'd just opened a hand wipe. Sanitary. Just not protection. Well, they'd have to risk it.

"You are one lucky son of a bitch."

"Am I?"

"No condoms."

"No?"

"Yep."

"...That's a shame." He let out another awkward chuckle to try and not show how much he was freaking out over the thought of having sex with her and being able to feel every single part of her without any barrier whatsoever. His eyes glazed over at the mere idea of it and it felt wrong and weird and so unbelievably good all at the same time. "I'll pull out."

Would he remember, though? She knew he'd be sensitive and there was no chance he would think to pull out once his head was overwhelmed with pleasure.

"Yeah, sure you will,” she teased.

So he corrected himself.

"I'll try to pull out."

"Baby, don't even worry about it. If anything happens, I'll sort it out when we get home. Just focus on enjoying yourself right now,” she murmured, pushing some hair from his forehead lovingly. "Go ahead and lay back, alright?"

Like always, he did as she said and was rewarded by Y/N crawling onto his lap, his erection nudging against her thigh as she pressed her lips against his. During this smooch, one of Y/N's hands travelled to her crotch and just as the tip of her finger was about to play with her clit, Adrian placed his hand on hers.

"Can I? I mean, I want to, obviously, is it okay if I take over?" he asked with his lips smushed against hers. He got his answer when she pushed his hand to the right spot on her mound and Y/N let out a soft gasp at the feeling. He smiled against her lips and began stroking her gently, building the tension within her belly until he pushed a finger inside and she let out a strangled moan. "You're so wet...oh my god."

He moved his finger inside, curling slowly, taking in the sight in front of him - her back arched into his chest, her boobs pressing against him, her thighs perched on top of his, and her pussy squeezing his index finger.

"You’re fucking dripping. Did blowing me turn you on?" he inquired huskily, his voice almost inaudible and full of awe. He took a quick peek down between her thighs at the rhythm of her hips bucking upward into his hand, and he couldn’t help but swallow thickly.

"Yeah. A lot," she panted, her volume increasing as another finger slipped into her entrance. He moved his fingers a little faster and she let out a short cry of excitement, clutching onto the side of his neck whilst her other hand ran through his soft hair, keeping it off his sweaty brow.

"You're so hot right now - well, all the time - but right now, holy shit! So sexy. Love those little whines you make. Makes me so fucking desperate." He kissed the corner of her mouth. "Fuck, Y/N, I need to be in you. Please. Please, I need to be inside you so badly, please, I-"

A loud knock on the door interrupted him and Adrian groaned, burying his face between her neck and her shoulder.

"Maybe they'll go away," he hoped aloud, trying and failing miserably to sound convincing since another bout of bangs happened just as his sentence ended. Y/N hastily grabbed one of Adrian's shirts and underwear off the floor to slip on before she opened the door, peering outside curiously.

Sparrow gave Y/N a quick once over and smiled.

"Mrs Bardot! Are you two alright in there? We've already had the first course but if you'd like I'd ask the cook to whip you something up quick," Sparrow announced, although he was obviously aware that the couple probably weren't going to leave their room for a while.

"Oh, that's very kind of you, but I think we're fine," Y/N replied sweetly, trying her best to keep her tone as neutral and keeping the door opened just a smidge - just enough for her to see Sparrow but not enough for him to see Adrian and his nakedness. "Thanks again, Sparrow, Marty and I will see you tomorrow."

In an instant, Sparrow grinned at her before turning on his heel and walking away. "See you lovebirds at breakfast!" He called behind his shoulder and walked away, leaving Y/N to close the door.

Once it was shut, she leaned against it and sighed in relief, turning to face Adrian who was staring at her intensely with a smug smile plastered across his lips. He quickly sat up straight and held his arms out to her. Y/N obliged with no hesitation, stripping off as she returned to her previous position, only this time she had a bottle of lube.

"Hello, there."

"Are you really pretending to be Obi Wan Kenobi right before I sit on your cock?" Y/N teased, running her fingers along his jawline and then up towards his cheekbones to rest her palm against his cheek.

"Why do I get the feeling you're going to be the death of me?" He quoted Attack of the Clones in a monotonous voice but the smile that spread across his face as soon as the words left his mouth was a telltale sign that he felt very proud of himself.

That pride suddenly turned into something else when she gripped his wrists and pinned them down to the pillow beneath him and climbed on top of him. Adrian let out a surprised squeak. His eyes widening when she squished the bottle of lube until his cock was slick and smelling of artificial watermelon.

"It's over, Adrian. I have the high ground!"

"You are my dream girl. Did my brain make you up? Nah, not even my imagination is this good or this beautiful." He chuckled breathlessly as she started peppering his face and neck with kisses. "I can't believe that this is real."

"It's real, champ." She nipped lightly on his earlobe and lined the head of his cock with her entrance. "Does this feel real to you?"

With one last kiss to his nose, she slowly lowered herself down until he was halfway sheathed. They were both silent as she stared at his face, searching his expression for any signs of discomfort. She found none and relaxed slightly before closing her eyes, exhaling shakily.

" I-I’m really fucking you. I-I’m really inside of you right now…"

And then Y/N slid fully down on her 'husband’s' length, her palms resting on his pecs as she tried to control her movements. Every inch was still as stiff as steel, but eventually he began to ease up as her body adjusted to him. Adrian closed his eyes at the feeling and let out a quiet sigh, savouring every moment.

"Shit, that’s my girl."

Every touch, every caress sent shockwaves through his body which caused his breathing to become more ragged; every movement of her hips was like a drug to him, sending his mind into a frenzy of wanting, wanting more, and wanting even more than that.

"I love watching you bounce on top of me. Love watching my cock go in and out of that tight pussy," he moaned out, grabbing hold of Y/N's ass and rolling her hips against him, forcing her to increase speed and grind against his cock with more force.

She gasped when he hit a particularly sensitive spot causing her entire body to quake uncontrollably. "Is that the spot? It is, isn't it, beautiful?" he purred into her ear. "Fucking hell, baby." His grip on her ass tightened and she could hear his breaths get heavier and shallower.

Y/N pulled back a bit and stared down at him, her eyes darkening at the sight, loving how flushed and dazed he looked; the passion in his eyes was burning brighter and more intense each time she made eye contact with him, as if he could never look away from her. And when he did manage to avert his gaze from hers, it was to stare directly at her boobs, biting his bottom lip and swallowing heavily as a lewd moan escaped his throat at the way they bounced.

"Adrian, baby, feel good for me," she whispered in his ear, her voice deep and husky. She didn’t know what possessed her but it seemed like she was completely lost in her own world as she started to move her hips around, the friction of her clit against his pubic bone pushing herself closer and closer to the edge.

"You’re tensing up, are you gonna come? Oh shit, you are too tight! Oh, God, fuck!" He cried out loudly, his arms locking behind her back to pull her towards him, his bucking hips moving in sync with hers. He pressed his forehead against the crook of her neck, panting wildly as his release built steadily within him. "Y/N, I'm coming. I - oh my god."

He squeezed his eyes shut at the intensity of it all. A moment later, he felt Y/N tense up and her hands flew to his hair as she released her orgasm with a groan that echoed throughout the bedroom, her back arching against him and her legs clenching around his waist.

He was left gasping and panting after his climax, but it seemed the problem still hadn't been solved.

"Still feeling it?" she inquired with a grin, kissing the side of his mouth lightly. He rolled his neck, his eyes hazy with lust and his cheeks flushed red.

"Do you want me to tell the truth?" he asked, his voice still hoarse. He shook his head to clear the haze from his brain. "That felt legit the best but, yeah, still feel it."

"Okay. When you're ready, we can try it again."

"Really?" He leant forward eagerly, reaching up to cup the sides of her face. "We can have sex again? Right now?"

"Right now."

Flipping them over, Adrian pushed her onto her back so he could hover over her with his elbows on either side of her head. In one swift motion, he was hovering above her, his hips thrusting up into her core as she writhed underneath him, moaning loudly as his pace increased. Her nails dug deeply into his shoulders as he buried his face in her neck and sucked hard on her pulse point.

"Gonna mark you up real pretty. Sparrow definitely won't look at you the way he does now, make it obvious you're my little wifey. Would you like that?" He grunted roughly as he drove into her, making her squirm and gasp, and would continue to do so over and over and over again.

After almost two handfuls of rounds later, Y/N had tears streaming down her cheeks, face down with her pleasured cries being drowned out by her pillow. The sound of Adrian's grunts filled the room as he drove his hips into her from behind, his chest slick with sweat.

"You've been such a good girl for me. Thank you," he panted, burying his face in the curve of her neck. "You’re my favourite person in the world. I love you. So fucking much. More than anything. Always will. You’re my angel."

Y/N whimpered as he buried his teeth in her skin, biting just below her ear while she began clinging tightly to the sheets. Tears fell freely and her heart felt warm at the sweet sentiment behind his words. His love and devotion was so raw that it felt like a part of her soul had finally been put in its place.

Because he was truly fucked out, he had no idea that he'd said anything. The past few hours had been a mess of 'Fuck, you’re so pretty like this', 'Holy shit, how are you this perfect?', 'You like how I fuck my pretty wife's pussy, yeah?' and a bunch of other stuff he was too messy to say coherently.

The final wave of pleasure washed over his body as a silent scream ripped from his throat. His entire body convulsed violently and shook out the final remainder of the aphrodisiac in his system before he collapsed onto her, panting, sweaty and spent.

Trying to catch his breath, he lay there for some moments before he lifted himself back off of Y/N and rested his weight on his elbow, staring at her with an adoring smile. He reached out and stroked her cheek gently before placing a soft kiss on it.

"Are you okay? Did I -" He yawned sleepily, wiping away the stray drool from the corner of his mouth. "Are you sore? Do you need anything? Water? Food?"

"Hey. No, you did good babe. I'm...I'm fine. Just sweaty." She wiped her cheeks quickly, trying to calm herself, her hand running through his tousled brown locks.

"Let me carry you to the shower?" He offered sweetly, getting up on his knees and tugging her tired body to sit up. He placed her feet on the floor and helped steady her, brushing away the sweat from her brow and rubbing her back tenderly.

They showered and changed into their pjs and got into bed, admittedly Y/N's thighs were very shaky so she needed a helping hand getting her legs through her trousers but they eventually settled down for the night. Well, the very early morning.

Taglist: @sarahskywalker-amidala , @she-wolf09231982 , @afraidofshrimp

Despite how tired Y/N was, she couldn't help herself from looking at Adrian's sleeping face and watching over him so if he had any complications due to the mass amount of aphrodisiacs he'd ingested earlier, she would react as quickly as she could. Occasionally, she'd have to pinch herself to stay awake as she watched his chest rise and fall rhythmically with every breath he took.

Next chapter: Afterglow

(Wanna be added to the taglist? Just message me or leave a comment :p)

#adrian chase #vigilante #vigilante x reader #adrian chase x female reader #peacemaker #adrian chase x y/n #adrian chase x reader

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baldurs-writers-3 · 6 days

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Injuries: A Baldur's Gate 3 Rec List

This week, we have fics featuring blood and injury! Check under the cut for fourteen fics exploring pain and its aftermath of all different sorts. And as always, comment and kudos if you like them!

Any kind of life (without you my dear) by QueenMaria (18129,Teen) Warnings: No major warnings Pairings: Astarion/Tav

Feign death is only supposed to last an hour; Tav goes down in a fight.

Reccer says: I love how the author uses "flashbacks" of dialog from the game to make scenes more poignant. A lovely hurt/comfort fic.

The (barn) is spinning by nostrix (879,General) Warnings: None Pairings: Karlach & Wyll

Wyll gets a concussion post Barn fight and Karlach makes sure he doesn't immediately eat dirt about it

Reccer says: Well described hurt and very nice comfort to round it all out afterwards

Breathe, breathe in the air - Leave, but don't leave me by nostrix (1976,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings: Lae'zel & Shadowheart

Shadowheart almost doesn't make it out of the Iron Throne, but Lae'zel makes sure she does

Reccer says: They really captured the fast pace of this fight, and the desperation of the situation Shadowheart finds herself in is perfect!

Protector by violinbythefire (2138,Teen) Warnings: Pairings: Karlach/Tav

Tav grew up in a society where he was disposable as a male. He's certain that his party would leave him for dead when the chandelier fell on him.

Reccer says: I love characters with no self-preservation being forced to deal with people who love them enough to force them to take care of themselves

The Light of the Seven by Verelia (13812,Mature) Warnings: Implied violence, implied sexual assaults, etc. (Typical Cazador stuff, but worth mentioning) Pairings: N/A

A series of one shots exploring each of Cazador's spawn.

Reccer says: I love how these are written, and how they bring very minor canonical characters to life. I was especially taken with the descriptions of the sea in Yousen's chapter; and the terrifying circumstances of his "spawning" by the Szarrs.

Old Breaks by Asidian (8016,General) Warnings: None Pairings: Astarion/Halsin

Astarion's pretty good at hiding the signs of his chronic pain, but Halsin is pretty good about seeing them anyway, and is even better at convincing the vampire to accept help for them

Reccer says: Top tier comfort and caretaking

Ambush by Rimeko (2737,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings: Astarion & Wyll

Astarion get's injured while he and Wyll are out scouting. He walks back, complaining about his hurt foot. Wyll assumes it is sprained, because after all, Astarion is just a magistrate, right?

Reccer says: I love the exploration of how Wyll thinks of his companions in the early days, and how that is forced to rapidly change each time he learns something new about them.

the blade falls by PurpleCatGhost (4097,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings: Wyll & Friends

Wyll used to know his own limits fairly well, but that was before the tadpole. Besides that, having friends you can rely on is also a new experience, though at least this one is a nice one

Reccer says: I really enjoy Wyll realizing just a little bit too late that his injuries are worse than he thought, and then everyone's response to that being "How dare you not tell us you needed help >:("

temporal displacement by PurpleCatGhost (4796,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings: Astarion/Wyll

Or Present Day Astarion ends up in a temporal mishap that has him meeting Twenty Year Old Past Wyll while he’s on death’s door. He steps in to do something about it.

Reccer says: It's so sweet and soft

Less Than Ideal by jeejaschocolate (5021,General) Warnings: some internalized ableism and drinking to cope Pairings: Astarion/Wyll

Being burned by hellfire left Wyll with poor eyesight in his solitary eye. Astarion notices. Of course, he can’t keep his opinions to himself.

Reccer says: Lovely exploration of vulnerability

This Protector by Mellybaggins (4382,Teen) Warnings: Injury (obviously) Pairings: Astarion/Tav

"Morwen and Astarion go off on their own to explore the second floor of the Reithwin Tollhouse and they learn the hard way why you should never split the party."

Reccer says: It's a self-contained character moment for Tav and Astarion. I like that it shows what their relationship is like outside of the larger plot or a sex scene. It's a deleted scene of a larger work but can be read out of context as a standalone.

Fated by FartasticDurge (43896,Explicit) Warnings: Smut, Trauma, Lack of consent, Graphic Depictions Of Violence Pairings: Astarion/Tav

Tav with memory loss goes through the whole adventure, with some new twists and turns as new information unfolds itself.

Reccer says: I loved it!

Purification by yasminkhxns (2094,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings: Lae'zel & Friends, Lae'zel/Shadowheart

The Zaith'isk causes more damage than initially thought

Reccer says: I loved it!

Wither and Bloom by onlymine139 (2642,Mature) Warnings: None Pairings: Halsin/Tav

After a bloody fight with Orin, Tav realizes the air in the Bhaal temple may be affecting her more strongly than the others. Her druidic magic wavers and she feels ill. Luckily Halsin has seen this type of sickness before.

Reccer says: I loved it!

The above fanfic recommendations were pulled from our community for this weekly event. Have any questions about what this is? Check out the FAQ!

Next week, we’ll be back with Cuddling fics and/or fics focusing on Shadowheart!

#bw3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #fanfic rec list #bw3 rec list #whump rec list #blood and injury rec list #whump #blood and injury

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mags-writes · 9 months

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Sunlight || Part V

Summary: frank contemplates homicide

Series Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical swearing, first time writing x reader, no use of y/n, no beta readers we die like ray nadeem

Pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

Authors Note: lots of angst for this one

PROLOGUE/MASTERLIST || PART I || PART II || PART III || PART IV || PART V || PART VI

"She's here." Matt calls out.

"And with two minutes to spare!" Amy calls out looking at her phone before high-fiving Dinah. "Your girl's punctual."

The sound of a suitcase rolling through the halls caught Frank's attention but he instead decided to ruffle Amy's hair as you walked through the door.

"Oh my god!" Karen exclaimed, making Frank snap to attention.

"What?" Matt asked confused.

What he saw made a whirlwind of emotions torment his mind.

"Holy shit." He distantly heard Amy whisper to herself.

"What?" He said more worried.

There you stood at the door holding a tray with four coffees, a backpack on your back, and a huge heavy-looking suitcase. The left side of your face was bruised, while the right side had a busted lip and rough-looking cut along your cheekbone with a nasty bruise under both. You look completely at ease and even rolled your eyes at Karen and Amy's reactions, putting the coffee down on the table next to the door and letting your backpack fall down next to them with a loud thud. You turn back to the group, mouth open and ready to say something but then something shifts in your expression.

Your eyes widen, your shoulders bunch up and suddenly the only thing about you that's moving is the harsh rise and fall of your chest as your breathing picks up. Fear, Frank realises, is what's taken over your body. Pure fear as your hands curl into fists to stop them from shaking. He starts walking towards you slowly, putting his hands up to show he doesn't have anything in them.

"Hey," He says softly, trying to draw your attention to him.

"That's John Pilgrim." You say, eyes not leaving the spot beside Frank's head.

He turns to see that John has turned from whatever quiet conversation he was having with Dinah to look at you.

Frank makes it to you, putting his hands on your shoulders heavily and turning your body away. You didn't take your eyes off John, fear still seizing your body.

"Hey, hey," Frank called out softly. "Look at me, sweetheart." You brought your hands up to his chest, gripping the jacket there in a grip no one could break away from. When you still didn't look at him he gripped your chin in his fingers and forced you to look away, to focus on him instead of John. "What'd he do? Hm? Hey, you can tell me. What'd he do?"

It was a simple enough question but your eyes held a lifetime of pain in them. He knew what that was like, to have something so horrible happen in the past and have to live the rest of your life carrying it with you. You searched for that in his own eyes, the understanding, the sharing of grief, the fucked up world you left for the fucked up world he lived in.

You let go of his jacket and held your hands up, palms facing you, to show him the scars you never talked about. His eyes went straight to the bruises adorning your knuckles, feeling a swell of pride swell up in him that whatever happened, you made it out alive. But he knew that wasn't what you were talking about. And he felt the pride slip when he met your eyes again.

"You ever seen a crucifixion?"

The realisation hit him in full force and for just a second he contemplated strangling the life out of John for you to watch. To bash his head against the ground until it split open. To carve his heart out of his chest with his bare hands. He briefly closed his eyes, turning his head before bringing you in closer to kiss your forehead instead. He kept you there longer than he usually does, letting you choose when to pull away.

"I've been informed of your situation, miss," John speaks up at probably the most inopportune moment making you turn your head back to him but not leave Frank's comfort. "Whatever this face and name have done to you, I sincerely apologise."

"Don't bother. It was one of my less violent kidnappings anyway." You reply but in Hebrew now. Frank frowns at the change as you pull away, Matt tilts his head in that puppy dog way he usually does when he shows he's listening to you, and John simply looks on in interest. You stepped away from Frank, a frown set in place as you spoke a language he didn't know. "The John Pilgrim I knew was a murdering, psychotic lunatic that nailed me to a cross for knowing and helping Daredevil, who murdered my baby brother. Who are you?"

"I am a father to kidnapped sons." He answered flawlessly in the same manner. "Widower to a wife taken from me by cancer. I'm just trying to get them back so we can live in peace."

"Do you consider yourself a righteous man, John?" You sneered.

"I believe God works through me when he needs me." He answered.

You stared at him for a long while, staring intensely into his eyes with a rage John had never seen before. He looks away first, bowing his head to you in respect. You let out a sigh, letting some of the tension in your shoulders ebb away before taking a step back and holding out your hand. John looked back into your eyes in surprise. He's not one to look a gift horse in the mouth so he takes your hand, letting your firm hold lead into a strong shake.

"We can get along." You said, letting his hand go and then shrugging. "The John Pilgrim I knew didn't even know Hebrew so you're already doing better than him."

"He didn't?" John asked bewildered making you lightly grimace.

"I have a degree in Bible studies," You made a disgruntled noise, looking at him with a look like he'd know this pain. "I think the most painful part of getting nailed to a cross was him quoting the Bible wrong."

Amy barked out a laugh, quickly covering her mouth to stifle her remaining giggles and Dinah shot out an arm to give her a light smack. John, despite himself, allows himself to smile at your words with a small, breathy chuckle leaving him. He gives you a look that said he respected you and you nodded to him in acknowledgment before turning. You walked back over to where you had put the coffee on the table and Frank followed you.

When you went to reach for the normal-looking coffee cup, while the others were iced, you saw your scars again. Usually, it wasn't a problem. But usually, you weren't in the same room as John fucking Pilgrim. Your hands started shaking uncontrollably and you curled them into fists. Bringing them to your chest as you took some deep breaths with your eyes closed. You could feel Frank's powerful presence next to you and you tilted your head a certain way, wordlessly asking for something he would give you freely for the rest of his life.

He kissed your temple, pulling back and keeping his eyes on you. Trying to ignore the fact that Amy was openly staring at you both with a shit-eating grin on her face. You let out a particularly deep breath before reaching for the coffee again. Turning to Frank and giving it to him without a word. He frowned down at it, taking it from your grasp and making sure to brush his fingers over yours before taking a sip.

Liquid. Gold.

A solid black coffee with nothing else in it.

He stopped himself from moaning at the taste but he couldn't stop his eyes briefly rolling into the back of his head. He opened his eyes at your giggle, the sweetest sound he'd ever heard and he melted at your smile. He leaned in again, kissing your forehead and staying close to speak quietly.

"Don't think this means I'm not lookin' at that face." He said lowly, leaning back out of your space again to see you avoid eye contact with him.

"Of course you're lookin' at this face, baby, I'm gorgeous." You tried joking, lifting a hand to pick at a spec of dust that wasn't there on Frank's shirt. "I'll explain later. When there isn't a cop in the room."

"Hi." You jumped at the voice, turning to see Dinah had walked up behind you. "Sorry."

"No, it's fine." You said, briefly leaning on Frank as you turned to face her before straightening up.

"I just wanted you to know that this is an official case, so anything that's happened starting this morning will fall under this case and you won't get in trouble." She explained gently, looking at you expectantly.

"I fell down the stairs." You lied casually. "Though on my way over I saw a dead body in a dumpster so you might wanna look into that."

"You killed someone?" Amy, the little sticky beak, had overheard you and walked over to where the three of you were standing.

"No," You lied again, frowning and shaking your head like you were talking to a child. "He probably died from his injuries." You paused, looking at Dinah and keeping up your lie. "Immediately upon receiving them."

"What..." Dinah blinked at the stupidity of the situation. "What injuries?"

"You know, I can't say for sure," You crossed your arms and frowned in fake contemplation making Frank fight a smile. "But I think he might've fallen three stories and landed on his head." Dinah looked at you with slightly widened eyes and her mouth open like she wanted to say something but couldn't move. "I'm no expert though."

Frank chuckles from behind you, bringing his arm across your shoulders and squeezing you to his side.

"Ease up, Madani," Frank said, breaking her from her trance. "At least she told you about the body," He then gave her a shit-eating grin. "I haven't."

#frank castle x reader #frank castle fic #frank castle fanfic #the punisher x reader #the punisher fic #the punisher fanfic #daredevil fic #daredevil fanfic #marvel fic #marvel fanfic

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flowersforjude · 23 days

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𝐕𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐃𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 ≈ 𝐢𝐢𝐢. 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞

❛𝘸𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 ❜

﹙finnick odair x oc!fem reader﹚

﹙previous chapter ➵ next chapter ➵ masterlist﹚┈﹙read on ao3 ➵ read on wattpad﹚

��𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | canon typical violence, no real warnings for this chapter.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 2.3k

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | Filler sort of chapter. Just trying to get all the events tributes have to go through out of the way. The next chapter is a bit longer. Enjoy!!

One word came to mind to describe the Capitol.

Shiny.

Tall, glimmering buildings dotted the skyline, and the fancy furnishings and decorations overwhelmed me.

This morning started for me way earlier than I would have liked. The gravity of my situation weighed more heavily on me than the day before. I woke up at almost 4:00 in the morning, sweaty and twisted up in unfamiliar silk sheets. My heart was beating rapidly from some nightmare I couldn't recall.

With only a few hours of sleep under my belt, I ended up in the shower in the connected bathroom. It was there, under the steaming fall of water, that I allowed myself to crumble even the tiniest bit. Silent tears cascaded down my cheeks and mingled with the water. I watched as they tumbled down the silver drain and disappeared.

After they had dried up and I was only sniffing a bit, I let myself enjoy the warmth for a moment longer before making my way back to the bedroom. I picked something to wear out of the fully stocked drawers and then paced the room. To distract myself, I wondered how this must be for Finnick and the other victors. Focusing on someone else's heartache was easier than facing the dread permanently constricting my chest. I couldn't comprehend how they could bear spending so much time with so many children, getting to know them, just to wave them off once it was time.

Sabine stopped by my room at six o'clock to tell me breakfast was going to be served in thirty minutes and that we'd be arriving in the Capitol around seven. Breakfast was a silent affair, with only the occasional comment from Clay or Hector. I hadn't been able to speak to Finnick since my conversation with him in the shadows of the lounge car. A whirlwind of activity was happening around me, and all I could do was let myself be pulled every which way.

I had been handed off to my prep team some time ago, and they were still busy with the seemingly extensive work. Even though it felt like they'd been at it a long time.

"Sorry." Eris, a short but striking woman with white hair cropped short, apologized as she tore a waxing strip from my leg. "This is the last one, though." She grinned, and her septum piercing glinted in the harsh overhead light. The final strip was yanked free as Ezra, a man with pupils that had been surgically altered to a slitted form, brought over containers of scrubs and other care items that I'd never heard of.

After the first hour, I had gotten used to being naked in front of them, and I started to feel more at ease. Eris and I make small talk since she's more approachable than Ezra.

After my body is scrubbed down with sweet-smelling lotion and I'm waxed and polished to their hearts' desire, they step back to examine their work.

"I suppose she's presentable now," Ezra says. "We should get Elphane."

They leave the room. Eris wishes me luck as she goes, and I think Ezra offers me a small smile. It means a lot more to me than I thought it would. I didn't think I'd care so much about whether Capitol people liked me or not.

I pull the thin paper robe around my shoulders and wait for my stylist to arrive. I look at the cold white floors and walls and suppress a shiver. This robe does nothing to aid the chill. Maybe that's the point.

I hope my stylist isn't too intimidating. I hope she's more like Eris than Ezra. I hope she doesn't make me wear something too ridiculous. I know that's the last thing I should be concerned with right now, but worrying about my outfit is easier than letting in the fact that this is the beginning of it all. The beginning of my death march.

The door opens, and a young woman, a little older than me, walks in holding a garment bag. Her curly hair is styled to poof out around her head like a halo of dark colored-rings. The only alteration to her face is the silver makeup that had been applied around her eyes. The metallic shine of the silver on her dark skin brings out the unique hue of her lavender eyes. She must be wearing contacts. She's beautiful, and not in the over-the-top Capitol way. She's beautiful in the subtle way that sneaks up on you. You're shocked when you get a closer look at her.

She hangs the garment bag on a rack I hadn't noticed yet. "Hello, Lyssa. My name is Elpahne, your stylist." Her voice is soft, like the flutter of a seagull's wings as it takes off from a rock.

"Hi," I venture unsurely.

She circles me, eyeing my form as if assessing every part of me. Somehow, I know she isn't looking at me like this to make me uncomfortable. She's just trying to get a handle on what she has to work with. But I still itch to wrap my arms around myself. I'm not used to someone looking at me this closely and for this long, like she's analyzing every molecule.

"What's your favorite color, Lyssa?" She asked, coming to a stop in front of me.

I think for a moment. What was my favorite color? I've always enjoyed the cerulean blue of the sky. Especially on days when the ocean was restless, when great waves rolled in harmony with the strong winds. Carrying the smell of ocean spray to the shore. Although, I wasn't so sure that it was my favorite. No, I think my favorite of all has always been the green tint the sea takes when the light is just right. The normal cobalt water adopts a shade of green that's lighter than emerald but softer than neon. It's calming, truthfully, and perhaps that's why I like it so much. Because the waves only claim this color when the day is good. When the sun is generous and allows itself to be a friend to the ocean instead of a mere acquaintance.

"Sea green." I finally answered.

Elphane nods as a smile overtakes her face. "I've never seen the ocean myself, but I hope to one day."

"I hope you do. It's magical," I say.

She takes on a knowing look. "I think I will soon." She retrieved the garment bag from its hook. "Are you ready to see your outfit?"

I nod as she unzips the cover. Instantly, I recognized the lovely hue of green and even some spectacular blues. I realize I'm not going to be dressed as a fish or something else utterly mortifying. I'm going to be clothed as the sea itself.

"Let's get you in this!" Elphane said giddily.

The dress is made of blue-green silk that shimmers in the light like the water does on those days where the sun and the sea are friends. The bodice of the dress hugs my curves. The sleeves are long and come to a point on the top of my hand where a ring goes on my middle finger to keep them in place. The neckline plunges downward and stops just above my navel. Leaving the middle strip of my stomach bare. The skirt is long and flowy. It pins up on my right hip bone to make the fabric fold over in some places to mimic rolling waves.

My makeup is done in silvers and whites that have a rainbow effect when the light reflects on it. My eyelids glimmer, and a glowing silver highlight is applied to my cheekbones. I'm surprised when Elphane begins to fix gemstones that look like pearls to the skin beneath my eyes. Three little pearls stretch out to stop at the outer corner. She also adds them to my collarbone and the valley between my breasts.

My hair hangs loose in natural, soft waves. She didn't do anything more than spray something in it that made it curl a bit more than usual. The finishing touches are more pearls placed randomly in the tresses of my hair.

"I was hoping you would say you liked green." Elphane confesses. "I knew it would complement your blonde hair."

"It's more lovely than I could have imagined," I say. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome, darling."

As we walk to the ground floor, where the tributes load the chariots, I find I'm not as nervous as I thought I'd be. I was thankful for the outfit Elphane put together for me. It is a comfort to know that when I'm in front of the entire country, I'll be something stronger than myself. The ocean never wavers, and therefore I will not either.

The chariots are already lined up. The other tributes stand around near theirs with the rest of their teams. I spot Hector standing at the front of our chariot, petting the horses. He's in a similar outfit to mine, but he has pants instead of a skirt.

Midori, Clay, and Finnick are close by with Sabine. They approach when they notice both their tributes are now present.

"How are you two feeling?" Clay questions. "Nervous?"

"No." I say confidently, even though it was only an act. Hector shakes his head, but his lack of a verbal response makes me think he is.

"Remember to wave." Midori advises. "Smile. Look out at the crowd; don't just stare forward."

I'm taking in her words and repeating them over and over again in my head. Wave. Smile. Look at the crowd.

Finnick steps closer to me. "Charm them, Lyssa. This won't be your only chance, but it is your first. Use that District four charisma I know you have."

I'm nodding as a horn blows, echoing around the concrete room.

Hector and I climbed into the chariot. I hold on tightly to the side, trying to save myself future embarrassment if I were to fall.

The roar of the crowd rivaled the sound of crashing waves. I was blinded by the lights around us as the chariots took off into the city. We waved and smiled at the Capitol citizens. I even choked back my revulsion and blew a few kisses at the ones who screamed in my direction. Deep down, I held my disgust and resentment in an iron grip. This was not the place to show it.

Thankfully, soon enough, we're making the last lap and coming to a halt in front of the president's mansion. President Snow stood on a pedestal that was placed high up on a balcony, above everyone. Just like he believed himself to be. He smiled patronizingly down at all of us.

"Welcome." He spoke into the microphone. "We welcome you tributes. We salute your courage and sacrifice." I stared up at him, not in reverence or awe, but in hatred. My eyes looked kind and unassuming, but hidden in them was a storm lashing. The very storm I'd promised Finnick not to lose. And that storm longed to swallow Snow up as he continued with his speech. "We wish you good luck and happy Hunger Games. May the odds be ever in your favor."

The cheering of the crowd faded as we rode back under the stadium. My chest rose and fell rapidly as I let the nerves finally take effect.

Finnick was the first to congratulate us. "That was perfect. Lyssa, nice touch with the kisses."

I smiled gratefully at him. "You gave me the idea."

"You guys killed it!" Clay exclaimed.

"You did very well." Midori praised.

Sabine appeared looking like she would break her face by how hard she was smiling. "I'm so excited! District four will be the best of the best this year! I know it!" She was yelling so ecstatically and waving her hands around like crazy. "You, dears, were absolutely phenomenal!"

I feel the hair on the back of my neck prickle. I glance behind me, and the male tribute from one is openly glaring at me. He smirks menacingly once he knows I'm looking. I meet his eyes fearlessly, my face impassive. I had to show him and the other tributes that I was unafraid. Even if that was the furthest from the truth.

"Lyssa," Finnick called. He got no response. "Lyssa." He said again, but louder.

I finally let my gaze drop from the tribute. "What?" I asked.

"We're heading to the apartments." Finnick informed me. He chuckled while shaking his head slightly. "Did you gain a confidence boost since last night? You were looking at that tribute like you wanted to gut him."

We fell into step together. "He was glaring at me first," I muttered. "I think I've already managed to make an enemy somehow."

Finnick stopped me and reached into my hair. He pulled a red rose petal from the locks of my hair. "This? This is all you need to worry about. This means people like you. This means you'll get sponsors, which is the difference between life and death." He held the petal in front of my face for emphasis.

I grimaced. "But what about the way he was looking at me? Like I was first on his kill list. How am I supposed to concentrate with that hanging over me? It's like they can't wait to get in there and start killing."

We started walking again, not wanting to get left too far behind.

"That's just Careers. They're trained for this. Most of the time, they're volunteers. They're arrogant and overconfident. But that will be what kills them."

"Thank you, Finnick." I expressed, avoiding his eyes. "Seriously, I don't know how I'd be handling all this without you."

"I'm here to help you." He claimed simply.

We walked the rest of the way to the apartment in comfortable silence.

Elphane is a goddess, I don't make the rules.

﹙taglist﹚@iammirrorball @lilydoeswrite @aoi-targaryen @ipoopedmypants47

#ˏ*ೃ➵violent delights #the hunger games #finnick odair x oc #finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #thg #thg fanfiction #fanfiction #finnick odair fanfic #thg finnick #thg series #the hunger games catching fire #the hunger games mockingjay #friends to lovers #mentor x mentee #slow burn

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fandom-go-round · 2 years

Note

Could I request some nsfw DBD scenarios for Feng, Meg, Mikaela and Nea? Where they have a crush on a shy female reader, and they decide to just go for it and seduce the reader. Maybe with some grinding and strap on sex.

Warnings: Sex, Sexual Situations, Sex Toys (Strap-Ons), Oral Sex, Implied Canon Typical Violence

Feng Min:

Your relationship with Feng is rocky at first. She’s so serious with a hidden jokester streak; it makes her a bit intimidating to talk to. You end up bonding because you’re good with your hands and she appreciates someone doing gens with her. She has no fear when going up against killers and you really admire it. And think that she’s cute. And think that she’s a total badass and out of your league.

Feng approaches you like she does trails; fearless and full of confidence. You fumble when she starts hitting on you but you don’t push her away by any means. It takes you a while to get the nerve to kiss her but once you do the floodgates open. She takes no prisoners and you’re happily along for the ride.

You don’t know where she got the double-sided dildo but don’t ask, letting her take the lead and set the pace. Feng never forces you to do anything you don’t want to and it’s nice to have someone to listen to. She loves to grind against you before fucking you, making you whimper and arch towards her. Seeing you desperate gets her off and if you’re a good girl then she’ll do the same for you.

Meg Thomas:

Meg is one of the people who’s been here the longest and for a long time you think that means she’s untouchable. She’s one of the fastest survivors out there and you admire how much she keeps it together. As you get to know her, it becomes more obvious that she’s as nervous as everyone else, she just hides it better. You’re fond of her and she’s fond of you, the two of you becoming thick as thieves. It morphs into something more than that after Meg kisses you.

You’re slow to warm into something more physical and Meg respects that. She never pushes you farther than you want but she’s always eager to explore new things. Making out is very common and even touching under clothing. When she brings out the strap, however, that’s something very new.

Meg didn’t know that she would enjoy fucking you this way as much as she does. It feels good between your legs and she likes being able to see your face. You’re so warm and you sound so good, Meg can’t get enough. She wants you to cum over and over and you’re not going to stop her. Just remember to return the favor after and she’ll happily fuck you again.

Mikaela Reid:

Mikaela has a habit of drawing you in. Every time you think she’ll pass you up she’s there, talking to your or asking questions. She’s easy to talk to and it seems like she really listens. It’s not hard to see how the two of you become fast friends and maybe even more than that. You’re too shy to say anything but Mikaela can read you, teasing you a bit and making you more flustered. She’s the one that kisses you one night after a trail, both of you far away from the others. It’s easy to fall into her arms after that.

Neither of you have much experience and that helps. You’re able to explore each other and take your time. Mikaela gets embarrassed when you do things that make her moan and it makes you giggle. She rewards your teasing with your own medicine and things quickly escalate. You want to ask where the strap on comes from but are too shocked.

Mikaela really wants you to ride her and you do your best. It’s a little hard to coordinate but you make it work. It feels good and you don’t have any issue keeping pace but it makes you shy to be so face to face. She makes you focus on her, rubbing your clit and kissing you hard. She thinks you’re the most gorgeous thing in the world and would keep you on top of her forever if she could.

Nea Karlsson:

It’s hard to tell sometimes if Nea really likes you. She can be harsh and while you don’t hold it against her, it does make it hard to read her. She spends more time with you and is generally kinder to you but that doesn’t mean that she likes you. At least you don’t think so, not until she kisses you after a trail. You can’t help but feel embarrassed, especially when she smiles at you and drags you deeper into the woods.

You’re hesitant to touch her too much but Nea has no issue pulling you close. She doesn’t force you into anything but you clearly want her to take the lead and she can do that. She nips down your neck and you moan, leaning into her. You feel so hot you could burst and quickly agree when she asks if you want to go further. You have to wonder where she got the strap on but you’re not complaining, not by a long shot.

Nea loves it when you suck her off before she fucks you, leaning against a tree and you on your knees. It gives her a power rush and you just look so cute, looking up at her from under your eye lashes. She leans down to play with your nipples and you moan, eyes closing in pleasure. After a moment she pulls you up and kisses you; she wants you to cum so hard you see stars.

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aceghosts · 1 year

Note

for the one-word writing prompts!

“unforeseen” for hunter x albert pls? (lmk if i didn’t do this right 😭)

Thanks for sending this one in! It's been sitting in my drafts for a while, but I didn't feel confident until posting about it until now. Also, gonna tag @sstewyhosseini. (I hope it's okay that I'm tagging you; I just know that you like them.)

[Prompt List]

Summary: On a mission in a tiny mountain town, Wesker encounters an unforseen complication, BSAA Captain Hunter Delaney.

More of the BSAA Agent! Hunter AU.

Words: 1053 words.

Content Warnings: Canon Typical Violence. Mentions of Death and infection.

AO3

The cold winter winds howl through the tiny, remote town, yet Wesker is unbothered by the frigid air. Ever since his rebirth, he no longer feels the sting of the cold or heat, a benefit on missions like these. The winds blow again, catching the tail of his black wool coat, fluttering in the wind. He moves forward in the snow with purpose, the frozen, white ground crunching beneath his feet. Wesker does not worry about being seen; most of the town’s inhabitants are dead or infected. They prove no threat, clearly the products of rudimentary science. He already thinks of the way the virus could be improved, perfected.

“Captain,” Wesker raises a blonde eyebrow at the sound of the unknown woman’s voice, “Do you think we’ll find anyone alive?”

“Unlikely, Natasha,” the ‘Captain’ replies as Wesker ducks into an empty house. He stays close to the window, allowing him to listen and catch a glimpse of the possible annoyances. “I think we’ve stumbled upon a fucking ghost town.”

“Don’t know that I would describe these as ghosts…” A man replies, cheekily.

“Really, Patrick?” Another man chimes in, his voice deadly serious.

“Oh, come on Arthur,” Patrick whines, “We need a little humor in this situation. What do you think, Kevin?”

“Uhhh…,” Another team member says, presumably ‘Kevin’, glancing between two members as the group moves into his field of view, “Shouldn’t we focus on the mission?” Glancing out the window, Wesker makes out a group of five: three men, one woman, and another person. While observing the group, Wesker spies a familiar emblem, gritting his teeth. The BSAA…. an eternal thorn in his side. Or rather, Christopher and Jill were a thorn in his side, the rest of the BSAA too weak and ineffective to deal with someone like Wesker. The only reason Christopher and Jill even presented a threat was due to his training, during their S.T.A.R.S. days. If anything, the BSAA only gave Christopher and Jill more chances to annoy him.

“Wait,” one of the members seems concerned, the Captain by the sounds of it, as they sniff the air, “I smell someone.”

“That isn’t freaky at all,” ‘Patrick’ mumbles under his breath.

“Do they smell infected?” ‘Arthur’ asks, as the other members raise their guns, preparing for an attack.

“I….,” The Captain sounds unsure, sniffing the air again, “I don’t know. I smell cologne, and the scent of something else. Can’t put my finger on it.” They sniff again, smirking as they add, “Also, I smell shitty body spray. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Patrick, are you trying to fucking kill us with that shit?”

“Hey!” Patrick exclaims, slightly hurt as Kevin laughs beside him.

“I think he’s trying chemical warfare on the zombies, and we’re just caught in the cross fire,” Natasha teases in while Arthur shakes his head.

“Can you smell anything else?” Arthur asks, trying to get the group back on track.

The Captain sniffs again. “Nothing else besides what we’ve already encountered.” Fascinating. He glances out the window, locking on the Captain’s figure, broad-shouldered and tall. Jet black hair falls to their shoulders in shaggy waves, and their skin is deathly pale, covered in freckles. Wesker notes the long scar across the bridge of their nose and another large, jagged scar on their lip. He briefly wonders how the Captain came to be so scarred. Bioweapons, perhaps? Most didn’t escape without physical or emotional scars. “Listen, come on out. We’re not here to hurt you; we’re here to help you.” As a show of good faith, the Captain holsters their rifle, holding up their hands to show them as empty. How could Wesker resist when the Captain was asking so sweetly?

He opens the red door, all guns training on him as it creaks open. Stepping forward, He meets the Captain’s eyes, delighted by the muted green color and the hint of something darker that dwells within. Stopping several feet away, Wesker smirks. “The BSAA…What brings an organization like you out here to this little village?”

The Captain and Arthur share concerned glances. “There’s been an outbreak in this village. Would you know anything about that…?” The Captain is fishing for his name, but they’re going to have to do better than that.

“An infection,” He plays innocent, his voice thoughtful, “I would not know anything about that, Captain….”

“Hunter Delaney.” How fascinating. Ironic that the captain of a BSAA squad should share a name with one of Umbrella’s infamous creations. He lets out a low chuckle as they raise a black eyebrow, confusion clear on their face. “Is something funny?”

“No, Hunter,” He enjoys the way their name sounds, enjoying, even more, the slight shiver that runs over Hunter, “Nothing funny at all.”

Hunter’s eyes narrow, staring into his black sunglasses as if they’ll find the answers hidden there. A moment later, their eyes widen in horror as recognition dawns on them. Hunter steps closer to him, placing themself between Wesker and their team. “Arthur, take the team and go. I’ll catch up with you later.” Do Christopher and Jill tell tall tales about their dear old captain? Is Wesker the boogeyman that looms large over the BSAA?

Arthur nods, motioning for the team to follow his lead. Sighing, Wesker cannot allow any of them to leave. What a shame. He was having such a nice time talking with Hunter, and now, it’s all over. He dashes forward towards Hunter, a black blur against the stark white snow. As he reaches them, his hand stretches toward the collar of their olive-green jacket, preparing to toss Hunter about. Maybe, he’ll make them watch their teammates die, before having a little fun with them.

Hunter sidesteps him, far quicker than any human could, before throwing a punch with their left fist. They connect with his stomach, knocking Wesker backward and just barely knocking the wind out of him. Landing on the snow, his sunglasses fall away, and several strands of blonde hair come loose. Quickly getting up to his feet, Wesker finds Hunter smirking at him, ready for the next attack. “That all you fucking got, asshole?”

Excitement floods Wesker, now extremely curious about Hunter Delaney. What an unforeseen, yet interesting complication. “You have no idea what I’m capable of, Hunter. Perhaps, a demonstration is in order.”

#Kate writes #the hunter fic tag #Hunter Delaney #OTP: Love Me Mercilessly #Resident Evil OC #RE OC #Biohazard OC #Albert Wesker x OC #albert wesker #I guess you could call this Hunter and Wesker's first meeting #and in every universe Hunter is destined to think he is an asshole upon first impression #I should probably point out that one of Hunter's abilities is enhanced senses which is both a blessing and a curse #Also this was supposed to be short-like 100 to 200 words #and uh this one kind of got out of control #anyway enjoy Wesker being an asshole and Hunter being thoroughly unimpressed #it was also nice to write Hunter getting along with their team #and not their main universe where everything is kinda shit from the start

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inlovewithkobenihigashiyama · 1 year

Text

HI AGAIN THE NEW CHAPTER!!!!! 123!!!! CHAINSAW MAN. AUGH!H!!!!

Spoilers, rambling & analysis under the cut!!! Warnings for canon typical violence/death/unpleasant situations.

OK SO.

I was wrong about this lady being the death devil!!

(I will probably be wrong about a lot of things lol, I just like to organize my thoughts. Might start making these posts w every chapter, idk!)

The falling devil!!! That makes a lot of sense!!! People falling to their death. I think her powers would tie into a fear of heights as well. But as I have seen some other people point out it also seems to tie into falling into depression or love, or really any vulnerable state. Which is pretty important considering Asa’s tendency to fall in critical moments. She in particular would probably be more afraid of this devil, which makes this confrontation very. difficult.

I LOVE her design. She seems so polite (aside from the murders and the whole being very evil devil thing)! A chef! She cooks!! She has a lot of arms!

Interestingly, she is very human looking. Remove some extra limbs and give her a neck, shes just a really tall chef. Cool, but.

?????? (Image from Chainsaw man chapter 34, kishibe talking during Prinzi’s introduction)

Devils with human-like appearances are friendlier toward humans. Well, Prinzi and Angel weren’t too warm and fuzzy, but they didn’t kill humans that much. Angel even expressed some regret in doing so, and actively avoided touching humans to protect them.

The 3 horsemen we know of so far are interesting cases, because they look just like humans aside from the eyes. Yoru tries to get Asa to kill people and is the war devil, but she still tries to protect Asa and even seems to comfort her. She didn’t take over Asa’s entire body because she ‘doesn’t know enough about humans to blend in’. Why does she have to be a human, couldn’t she just use her bird form to spy? I dunno, but it’s been established that Yoru isn’t the smartest. Fami is still pretty mysterious, but she didn’t directly kill everyone inside the aquarium. She could have, but she made another devil do it for her. She offered to help Asa and Yuko, and she kind of did save Yuko from dying, at least immediately. She is cooperating with Yoshida’s interrogation. Makima seems pretty detached from everything and does not take issue with hurting humans for her own gain, but was very much able to maintain working relationships and live as a human without being found out as a devil.

The Falling Devil is pretty human-like, but she introduces herself as the Falling Devil and resumes killing and tormenting people with no regard for who sees her. She has a similar level of hostility to humans as, say, the bat devil. So far she seems to enjoy killing people.

I think this is particularly interesting as she is the 2nd introduced primal fear devil. The darkness devil also looked pretty weird, but definitely had human physical traits. It basically is just a bunch of humans stacked on top of each other and a cool helmet and cape. The darkness devil also does not take any issue with killing or harming humans despite its humanlike appearance.

It’s just. An interesting pattern!!!!!

Another very interesting piece of dialogue:

Did someone send her? Who? Why? This implies some sort of organized society or system in hell that would allow devils to communicate to each other. It seems like they sent her as sort of representative? I have a lot of questions!

And Asa. Oh my god. I fucking cried.

We have some more of her backstory which is nice, but. Holy Fuck.

She risked her LIFE to save that cat. That was the only remaining family she had. And she was willing to trust this person who promised that they could give her cat a better life, she chose her cat’s happiness over her own. And that trust was betrayed in the worst way possible, in the name of ‘fairness’.

This poor kid. I can’t. She lost everything and she blames herself for it. She believes she killed her mom, her cat died because of her misplaced trust, the one friend she made died trying to protect her from bullies (in a very twisted attempt, there are much better ways to deal with bullying, but I think Yuko genuinely cared about Asa).

We know she lives alone now, and knowing where she was before I’m glad for her. I assume that she left the orphanage sometime after this. But we know she’s never really been social, she’s introverted, she withdraws from others, which explains more about her tendencies to avoid social interactions and shut out everything around her. Unrelated, but I love her short hair and sweater.

I think this is also an interesting parallel to Denji. Denji, who never really had anything but still lost so much. He blames himself for the death of his father, of his friends and adoptive family. He really loved pochita, he gave him everything he could but still lost him. Denji who is loud and puts himself out there even when he really shouldn’t. Denji who isn’t very book smart but is friendly and loyal and social.

The cat/dog parallels.

It is very, very interesting.

2 weeks till the next chapter!!! Might add more stuff as I think of it, but these are my initial thoughts for now :)

#chainsaw man spoilers #spoilers #csm #csm manga #chainsaw man manga #asa mitaka #csm part 2 #csm theory #csm chapter 123 #cube reads: csm #<- new tag just 4 me to organize my silly rambles!

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