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saetoru · 7 months

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RATE MY PROFESSOR! — GOJO SATORU & GETO SUGURU.

kinktober day one — threesomes ; find masterlist here

synopsis. you’re professor gojo’s TA—the catch? you both are romantically involved. what do you do when professor geto happens to accidentally walk in on you giving a blowjob? let him fuck you so he keeps his mouth shut and doesn’t tell a soul, of course

length. 5.1k words (deep, big, heavy sigh)

contents. minors do not interact, fem! reader, college au, teacher-student relationships, prof! satoru + suguru, TA! reader, power imbalance, age gaps (reader is early twenties and satoru + suguru are early thirties), semi public sex (at campus in satoru’s office), suguru walking in on you and satoru, threesomes, fingering + blowjobs + hair pulling + throat fucking + cum swallowing (satoru), male masturbation + edging (suguru), unprotected sex + (one) clit slap + creampie (suguru), pet names (baby, sweetheart, angel, princess, pretty girl, good girl), not proof read—i am a raw dog kinda gal

notes. i would highly discourage having intimate relations with a professor—but….if your professor looks like gojo or geto, i’m blind babe. i ain’t see nothing. i won’t tell a soul

“you guys wanna get lunch?” nobara hums, “we’re all here.”

megumi, as always, looks like he’s about to say no—he probably wants to go home as quickly as possible. but that’s not an option because before he can, yuji has already piped up with an enthusiastic, “yeah! i’m down.”

you fiddle your fingers nervously—how are you supposed to get out of this one? you’d just used the excuse of grading assignments for satoru yesterday, and surely you couldn’t possibly have a fresh pile of them to grade again within twenty-four hours, right? it’d be a suspicious excuse, especially one for nobara, who seems to sniff out a lie a little too easily.

it’s not that you don’t want to hang out with your friends, you love them. really. but you promised you’d be in satoru’s office in fifteen minutes—and you’re not about to keep him waiting, so lunch will have to wait for another time.

you’re still thinking of a usable excuse when she turns to you herself, unimpressed as she dryly says, “i assume you have some midterm review to help him polish or something,” she grumbles, “gojo is so lazy,” she scoffs.

oh—well, that wasn’t very hard. she’s just made it ten times easier for you. nobara has handed you the perfect excuse right in the palm of your hand, and before you can even play it off casually, yuji cuts in and distracts her. bless yuji, you think to yourself.

“hey, professor gojo is a great guy! we all passed with an A! isn’t that great?”

“everyone gets an A in his class, dumbass,” megumi grunts, rolling his eyes, “not getting an A in his class practically means you’re deliberately trying to do poorly.”

on campus, professor gojo is a fan favorite—his rate my professor score is a perfect five stars, and most of the students around campus rave about him. why? because he gives out the letter grade A+ like it’s candy. anyone would love a professor like that.

he doesn’t ever take attendance or knock your grade down when you skip class, his assignments are always easy to google answers to, and the quizzes have unlimited time and attempts. his tests are straightforward enough that even if you never pay attention, doing the review he uploads is sure to help you cram enough to pass. and what’s better? he always adds a generous curve. not only that, but professor gojo is a friendly guy—he loves talking to his students, loves to ramble away if you stop him in the halls or visit during office hours, loves to listen to your stories and nod along in interest, loves to crack jokes and have a good laugh.

everyone loves professor gojo. and when they leave his class with an A+, they love him even more.

you had an A+ in physics yourself when you took his class—and you hate physics. you hated it in high school, and you hate it now. but for gojo satoru? you’re almost a physics enthusiast. professor gojo—or rather, satoru, as you call him now, takes a liking to you. a very…strong liking, if you will.

it all starts on a fateful monday afternoon two semesters ago—it’s one thirty pm, the busiest hour on campus. sometimes, it feels like everyone takes classes at one pm—and as such, getting a table in the university coffee shop is almost impossible. you’re just about to give up and leave with your coffee and sandwich after scanning the place when a wave of a hand catches your attention.

it’s professor gojo.

need a seat? he asks you, gesturing at the chair in front of him at his table—it’s a smooth, amused little drawl, the way he talks. it’s almost always a borderline teasing tone, and his voice is low enough that it sounds oddly enticing. you’ve heard enough girls lust over his voice in class to know you’re not the only one who sometimes appreciates the sound.

you try to insist that you wouldn’t want to intrude, but professor gojo is a nice guy; always looks out for his students and helps them out. so, when he insists that he doesn’t mind you taking the spare seat as he grades a few assignments, well…you decide to sheepishly thank him and sit across from him, finally having somewhere to sit and eat before you’re off to your next class.

and then it begins.

every now and then, you sit across from your physics professor in the crowded coffee shop on campus as you enjoy a cold brew and a sandwich before your next class. somehow, he always manages to snatch a table, and somehow, you always manage to find him. you like to ramble to him sometimes—how professor nanami is a bit too strict for your liking (he giggles at that), how professor ieri always seems too tired and miserable to be here (he nods and agrees), and how professor geto is nice, but he takes literature pretty seriously (he gives you an amused look at that as he hums.)

somewhere along the line, he asks you to be his TA for the following semester—and somewhere further along that line…well, perhaps the one-on-one talks as you sit together at a table for two felt a little too close to something of a romantic setting because you and professor gojo kiss in his office while he calls you in to explain your TA responsibilities.

that was never supposed to happen.

you don’t even remember who leaned in first, or whose arms were the first to wrap around the other, or who tugged who closer, but you both kiss. and then some. and then it happens again, and again, and again—and, well…you’re professor gojo’s, or better yet, satoru’s best kept secret.

you go to his office to grade assignments for him—in between if he steals a few kisses, who’s to know? sometimes, he’s a bit riskier, likes to spread his legs and free his cock and have your hand stroke him as he eyes the door. it’s always a nice view to watch him unbutton a few buttons of his shirt and bite back moans. other days, he likes to slip his hand past your waistband and toy with your clit—the amused glint in his eyes, as he tells you not to get distracted and keep grading when you gasp always, earns him a sharp glare.

it’s like that for the semester, just you and him in his little office where you can break the rules in the safety of secrecy.

that is, until now.

admittedly, this isn’t the best time to be doing this—professor geto likes to have lunch with satoru around this time, and you know you’re cutting it close…but he just looks so pretty like this, head fallen back against his chair as his lips part with a soft gasp.

you’re on your knees, looking up as you suck on the tip of his stiff cock before taking him down your throat, bobbing your head up and down. it’s a rewarding position to be in—to have the hot, loved, campus favorite professor that everyone thirsts over falling apart in your mouth, hands gripping the arms of his chair as he pants harshly above you.

he looks pretty—always does, always looks good enough that you can feel the ache between your legs get worse. the messy strands of his hair stick to his damp forehead, and his lips are always so pink and plump when he bites them like that, and who can forget the way his eyes turn just a shade darker of that bright blue?

you hum around him, making him groan as he mumbles, “f-fuck, you’re so good, sweetheart—always know how to make me feel good.”

you press a kiss to his tip, smearing the bead of pre cum leaking from his slit along your lips before licking them clean—he closes his eyes and groans at that. you can’t help but giggle, can’t help but press more kisses along his hardened length until you’re at the base of his cock.

“pretty little lips,” he hums, reaching to rub his thumb over your bottom lip as you open your mouth, letting him slip into your mouth—he hums approvingly as your tongue swirls around the digit, sucking slowly. “‘s like you were made for taking me, huh?”

“‘course i was,” you grin cheekily—and then you’re back to sucking on his cock, tongue rubbing over that thick vein you love to trace and reaching a hand to play with his balls. he moans—it’s low but still whiny enough that you can’t help but feel so proud at how needy he is, how desperately he always wants you. no matter the risk.

except the risk is probably not the wisest one to test today because just as satoru lets out a particularly loud whine when you swallow around him, the door clicks open and…

oh.

oh no.

this…this isn’t good—this is terrible, in fact. this is the worst possible outcome to the worst possible thing you’ve done, and now you’re screwed. entirely destroyed, in fact—the both of you. here goes your admission and your progress on your degree, and here goes satoru’s entire career and everything he’s worked for, and all because you couldn’t help but give him a blowjob in the middle of his office with the door unlocked where his best friend can walk right in and get a full view.

and worse? this best friend of his happens to be another professor on campus who you happen to have had just last semester. you’re sure he knows you; you’re his former student, after all, and he must certainly know his best friend’s TA.

professor geto blinks—his eyes go back and forth between you and satoru and the still-hard cock between his legs that’s glistening with your spit as you sit on your knees. yeah—there’s no explaining this one.

“well,” he says blankly, “i guess that’s on me for not knocking, huh?”

“suguru,” satoru grumbles, “some of us are busy y’know? can’t you come back later?”

you turn to satoru in shock—how can he be so normal about this? how can he just casually act like this is some random hook-up his friend walked in on instead of a (very illegal and very unprofessional) teacher-student relationship that could get the two of you in more trouble than you can comprehend?

but professor geto doesn’t seem even the slightest bit concerned. there’s no look of disgust or panic or even anger at you and satoru for your unprofessional habits. there’s no alarm at the distasteful activities you’re doing in the middle of a university office where anyone could potentially walk in on. and then there’s satoru—he doesn’t even bother making himself decent or pulling you from your knees.

no, instead, he looks at professor geto in slight irritation as the latter stands there.

“so this is what you’re always busy doing in your office, huh?” professor geto hums, chuckling in amusement, “i have to say, you at least have good taste, satoru. she’s excellent in and outside the classroom, it seems.”

“yeah, she’s a keeper,” satoru hums, cupping your cheek as he grins down at you, “now if you don’t mind, suguru, we’re in the middle of something.”

“and what do you plan on doing if this gets around?” professor geto raises a brow, unimpressed.

you look at him in panic at that—surely…surely he can’t mean that he would be the one to spread this around, right? surely he wouldn’t throw his best friend under the bus, correct? if not for you, then for satoru’s sake, he’d never let this information find another soul. otherwise…otherwise you’ll both lose everything. all the hard work and progress you’ve made, all of satoru’s experience and years building his career, and all the future opportunities you had coming up—all of it will be for nothing if professor geto says one word.

people wouldn’t have a hard time believing it either, you think. sometimes your own friends like to poke fun at you themselves.

you’re always with him, are you sure you’re not in love with the guy at this point? nobara always likes to snort at you.

why does professor gojo even keep you around? you’re too lazy—you must give good head, megumi tends to tease as he raises a brow with amused eyes.

with how often you’re in professor gojo’s room, you might as well have a crush on him, yuji sometimes giggles.

surely, with how often you’re seen in the coffee shop with him as he grades papers and how often he likes to tease you when you show up to his classroom sometimes to drop off papers, students would certainly take the rumors and spread them like wildfire if professor geto says even the littlest thing.

you look at him with wobbly lips as you whisper, “please don’t tell anyone,” you sniffle, “i…maybe there’s something we can do…to keep you from…”

the two of them look at you in shock—they stare at you for a moment, stare at the crystalline tears welling up in your eyes, at the soft little tremor in your lips, at the sweet little sniffles you try to hide. then, as if in sync, their eyes meet each other’s before finding you once more.

“oh, that’s precious,” professor geto chuckles, “she really is a keeper, satoru—she even looks pretty when she cries. i’m almost jealous.”

“don’t look for too long, suguru,” satoru grumbles—and then, “listen, sweetheart, you don’t have to worry. suguru’s not gonna—”

“well, if there is something you’d wanna do for me,” professor geto cuts satoru off, his voice a low drawl as he walks closer, hand cupping your jaw as he tilts your face up, “i suppose i can keep my mouth shut.”

“anything,” you nod quickly.

you’re so eager to please, he thinks—so perfect and sweet and pliant, that suguru thinks he might actually really be jealous that somehow, it was satoru who caught your attention. how did this all start? when did it start? how long has it been going on? do you have real feelings for each other? or is it just a pleasurable business kind of deal? do you meet up outside of campus? does he take you to the next town over to freely walk around with you on dates? do you kiss sweetly sometimes instead of with hunger? have you ever spent a night in his bed? do you sleep better beside each other, wrapped in the other’s arms?

there are so many, many questions suguru wants to ask. the potential answers to all of them make him a bit more unhappy than he cares to admit. something in him wonders how things might’ve had to play out in order to land you in his office instead—but…but if you’re offering anything, why not take advantage of the offer?

“anything?” he asks, looking at you amused, “you know, princess, anything is a dangerous offer. what if i asked to join? what if i asked to fuck you here in this office so your secret is safe?”

you blink up at him for a moment at his words—they’re a bit shocking. professor geto…doesn’t think this is wrong? clearly, he doesn’t if he’s willing to take part. but that doesn’t sound half bad. not even in the slightest.

they’re a popular pair: professor gojo and geto are all people on campus ever talk about. those two professors who happen to be best friends. they’re not much older than you either—can’t be past their early thirties, even if they don’t look a day over twenty.

did you know they used to go to college together? i heard they’ve known each other since high school. apparently, they applied to work here together and only took the offer up once the other agreed. it’s all people ever gossip about when they mention them both. it’s always about how close they are, how deep their bond is, how there is never one without the other. and then, of course, there are those…the less than appropriate comments you occasionally hear the other girls make. i bet professor gojo gives the best head—he’s always sucking on some lollipop. i’d let professor geto do nasty things to me while i read his literature books out loud to him—he’s too fine. i can take both of them—and i don’t mean their classes.

it’s…not exactly a bad offer that he gives you, you think to yourself. it’s an enticing one, in fact. you get to have them both—professor geto isn’t any less attractive than satoru and…and well, you’d really like for him to keep this a secret, so it’s a bit of a win-win. plus, you’re sure he wouldn’t risk spilling such delicate information when it would put his career at risk, too—it seems like the perfect leverage.

you look at your old literature professor with a nod as you murmur, “then i’d say you should make sure to lock the door this time—we don’t want to make the same mistake twice, do we?”

his eyes sparkle in amusement at that, a low chuckle falling from his pretty lips as he shakes his head at you—you’re even better than he expected. satoru is so, so lucky he’s got to have you to himself all this time. it’s criminally unfair.

“hey,” satoru pouts from behind, still sitting in his chair and still painfully hard as his throbbing cock sits between his legs unattended. “you both are forgetting about me,” he whines.

professor geto—or rather, suguru, you suppose, only looks at his best friend in amusement. “now, satoru—what have i always told you about sharing? here—” he walks over and pulls satoru to stand before taking the seat himself and patting his thigh as he looks at you with a sly grin, “why don’t i get to feel your pussy, and satoru can have your mouth like before? then we both get what we want.”

“bossy as ever, suguru,” satoru chuckles, but there’s something in his eyes—something darker and more excited than you’ve ever seen them.

“get her ready for me,” suguru hums, fingers making quick work to unbuckle his belt and free his hardened cock. you can’t help but stare, can’t help but watch as he wraps his fist around his hardened length and runs his thumb through his slit with a low moan.

he’s not as long, but he’s thicker than satoru—you can easily tell he won’t be any easier to take. you watch attentively as he traces the thick vein along the side of his cock with this thumb as he strokes upward, rolling around his tip before stroking down and squeezing at the base. you watch his lips tug between his teeth, a soft moan ripping from his throat as he touches himself in the way he likes best.

you’ll remember what he likes, you think—you can sense this might not be your first and last opportunity to see suguru like this. and next time? well, next time, it’ll be your hand touching his cock and pulling those pretty little sighs and groans from him instead of his own.

“eyes on me, sweetheart,” satoru hums, pulling you to stand before gently guiding your back to fall against his desk, fingers looping into your waistband and pulling your pants down your legs. you can hear the sharp inhale suguru takes as soon as the wetness of your folds is on display, as soon as your puffy clit and dripping pussy are there for him to see so clearly. “watch carefully, suguru,” satoru grins, “she’s pretty when she cums.”

“i can imagine,” suguru muses, “alright then. show me.”

instantly, satoru’s fingers are intruding into your cunt—it’s familiar, the sensation of his digits bullying past your folds and curling against your sweet spot. he’s already knuckles deep, already pressing the tips of his fingers into the back of your walls as far as they’ll go, spreading you open and scissoring you apart. it feels good—it always does, and when his palm rolls across your clit? you can’t help but let out a whiny moan that earns a groan from suguru as he fists his cock tighter.

“god, she even sounds so pretty,” he pants, watching as satoru’s fingers slip in and out of your pretty cunt, at the way it all but sucks them in itself as it flutters around him. everything about you is perfect—but your face is by far suguru’s favorite. the way it twists with pleasure as satoru slams his fingers against your spot mercilessly with every thrust of his wrist has him fighting off his orgasm—his fist slowing down to a teasing edge as he grunts at the way he lets his pleasure die down for the sake of really feeling you.

“that feel good, angel?” satoru asks, grinning down at you.

you nod quickly, head thrown back against the wooden desk as you stutter, “y-yes…s-so good, toru.”

“toru?” suguru asks, “do i get a nickname too? make sure you come up with one for me, yeah?”

it’s almost like you don’t hear him, too busy on the way satoru drags along your walls with every time his fingers sink into you. “toru, toru—s-slow down, ‘m g-gonna…”

“slow down?” satoru gasps—his pace only quickens at that as he gives you a mocking pout, “you want me to slow down, sweetheart? you never ask me to slow down, it’s always faster, toru. faster, please! from you. you don’t wanna give suguru the wrong idea, do you? he’ll think i haven’t taught you how to take it like a good girl.”

suguru snorts at that, slowly dragging his hand up and down his sensitive cock—it’s red at the tip, flushed, and leaky enough that it’s easy to tell he’s aching for release.

“hurry up, satoru,” he grits, biting his lip as he fights back another orgasm and stills his hand, keeping it tightened around the base of his length, “we haven’t got all day.”

“can’t rush making my pretty girl cum, suguru,” satoru gasps, “she deserves the best. look at this pussy—” he gives pulls his fingers out to give your clit attention, rubbing your slick over the sensitive bud as you gasp, writhing over his desk, “—see how perfect it is? you gotta treat it like that too.”

as if from his words alone, as if you get off on the way satoru praises your cunt to his best friend who watches you get stuffed to the brim with his fingers, you whimper before cumming—your pussy fluttering around nothing, walls spasming and dripping with slick as he toys with your clit.

“toru—toru, ‘m cumming…cumming—oh,” you babble, thighs quivering as his thumb doesn’t let up from your abused clit, watching as your hand reaches for his wrist weakly to halt his movements. “‘s too much,” you sniffle.

“too much?” suguru gasps, “how will you take me, then, princess? don’t tell me you’re tapping out already?”

“nah,” satoru grins, chuckling, “she’s got plenty left in her. she can take it.” with that, he hooks an arm under your waist and helps you sit up, leaning down to kiss you softly as you let out a muffled whine against his lips. “you’re ready for suguru, aren’t you, baby? prepped you nice and good to take him, didn’t i?”

you nod, mumbling a soft, “uh huh,” in agreement.

“that’s my good girl,” he coos, grinning as he presses a wet kiss to your forehead.

suguru, patient as ever with a stiff, aching cock standing between his muscled thighs, holds an arm out for you as he murmurs, “c’mere then, princess. can’t back out of our deal yet, can you?” you walk over to him on wobbly legs, letting him pull you to sit on his lap, back flush against his chest as his hands guide your hips. he taps the head of his cock against your clit as he lines your entrance up with his length before pulling you to sit, slowly inching you down on him bit by bit as he gasps at the way you squeeze around him instantly. “h-holy—fuck, such a tight fuckin’ pussy. ‘s like i can barely even move,” he grunts, chin resting on your shoulder as he pants.

satoru walks over, staring down at you as you’re seated on suguru’s lap before cupping your cheek and rubbing over the soft skin with his thumb. “you can take both of us, right sweetheart? you’re just too good not to, aren’t ya?”

you nod eagerly, letting the tip of his cock tap against your lip, tongue moving to lick across his slit and make him groan. he’s painfully hard—cock swollen and neglected for so long, you almost forgot that he’s been waiting for your mouth to take him again after being interrupted. your jaw slacks as you let him thrust his hips and fuck his length into you, tip hitting the back of your throat as you choke around him.

“fuck,” satoru hisses lowly, biting his lip as his hands grab your hair and keep you in place while he ruts into your mouth, “fuck, baby. never get tired of how good this mouth feels—takes me so fuckin’ well. jus’ love feelin’ me down your throat, huh?”

you can’t do anything but let out a muffled cry, feeling the fat tip of suguru’s cock nudge against your sweet spot—it’s just as effortless: the way he finds your most sensitive part. just as effortless as satoru. maybe that’s why they get along so well, maybe they’re connected in that way.

“oh, princess,” suguru moans, panting against your ear as he lets out a breathy moan, “fuck, that’s good—so, good. can hardly move with the way you’re squeezing me. greedy little pussy, isn’t it?”

you whine as you feel his arm wrap around you, finger rolling over your puffy clit as his hips snap upwards and fuck into you, cock dragging along your walls and stretching you enough that you can hardly think straight. he’s big—it feels like he’s almost splitting you open with his girth as his hips roll up and sink him deeper into your cunt.

“she’s…she’s perfect,” suguru pants, “keepin’ this all to yourself? how selfish of you, satoru.”

“she’s mine,” satoru whines, cock pushing past your lips as he speaks, the way your tongue glides along his vein making his cheeks flush as his eyes flutter shut and his mouth falls open with a breathless moan. “she’s too good to share with you. you d-don’t deserve her.”

“yeah? and you do?” suguru chuckles—it sounds more like a labored pant, his breath harsh as he groans into your neck when you flutter particularly tightly around him, forehead falling to dig into your shoulder, “she’s suckin’ me in. think she wants me. don’t you, pretty girl? you want me to cum inside you, right? make you mine too?”

“y-yes,” you mewl, popping off satoru’s length as you whimper when suguru chuckles and gives your clit a light slap, back arching against him as he pushes his cock past your folds again, “yes, wan’ it. wan’ it so, so bad—need it.”

“see,” he raises a brow towards satoru, “knew it.”

you can see the way satoru’s cock twitches at that—at the way you fall apart on suguru’s lap as the latter digs his head into your shoulder as he breathes harshly, chasing his release desperately as he ruts into your slick pussy. you can see the way satoru’s tip is flushed a harsh red, leaking with pre cum as he aches to spill cum down your throat, so you let him push past your lips once more—but not before giving his tip a delicate kiss.

“she’s my girl,” satoru grunts, “mine, mine, mine—knows how to make me cum. kn-knows how to take me so good, right baby?”

and as if to answer him, you suck around his tip, swallowing around his length and making him groan as his hips stutter and cum paints your throat white as it fills your mouth. you try to swallow every drop, try to take what he gives you as he fucks into you desperately and chases the pleasure of his high. thick, hot ropes of cum spill from the corners of your lips as satoru fucks his load into you, panting as his hips sloppily roll and work himself through his orgasm.

“that’s right, sweetheart,” he groans lowly, “take it, yeah? god—fuck, feels so good, baby. ‘m c-cumming.”

you make a sound between a choked whine and sharp gasp as suguru’s thumb rubs harshly against your swollen clit, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he groans, hips just as sloppy as satoru’s in his pace that it tells you he’s close too—and then he twitches into your pussy, cock burying into you once, twice, three more times before he groans too.

“gonna cum, princess? ‘cause ‘m gonna fuckin’ cum—fill you up and make you mine. you want that right? want me to—f-fuck, fuck ‘m close, so close,” he cuts himself off with a gasp, letting out a needy whine into your skin before spilling into you. you can feel hot, thick ropes of cum paint your walls as his tip nudges back into you and pushes his load as deep as he can.

and you fall apart too, coming undone a second time as your walls hug around him tightly, head falling back as you mewl a high pitched, “s-sugu—c-can’t…’s too much—”

“you can take it, pretty,” he hums, “know you can. you’re too precious not to, right?”

it’s messy—it’s downright filthy, in fact, the way his cum and your slick mix and drip along your inner thighs, making a mess on satoru’s chair. you pant as your pussy pulses around him before coming down from your high, falling slack in his arms against his chest as he chuckles and presses a kiss to your jaw.

“fuck,” he breathes, “you’re something else. who’d have thought my favorite little student from a previous semester could do all that?”

“isn’t she a dime?” satoru chuckles proudly, reaching for the corner of your mouth with his thumb, collecting a stray drop of cum and pushing it back past your lips and onto your tongue, humming approvingly as you swallow. “precious, isn’t she?”

“of course,” suguru nods, with a grin, leaning to peck your shoulder, “so, tell me. which professor would you take again?”

satoru purses his lips as he glares. “this isn’t rate my professor, suguru. and don’t get used to thi—”

“well,” you hum, interrupting as you bat your lashes sweetly at both of them, “why i can’t just take both of you again?”

guess who’s posting their october first kinktober fic literally 40 mins before it’s october second ?? if it’s not procrastinated, it’s not reached its full potential

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sweetercalypso · 11 months

Note

Please can you write about being catcalled when you’re with Joel? Like what do you think he would do?

wc: 0.7k cw: threats/slight violence, suggestive comments

Life in Jackson is quiet.

It’s reminiscent of a time that not many remember. Fit with a heavy artillery of patrolmen and a clinic and a working bar, Jackson made it easy to pretend that danger was no longer a concern.

Some of the men in the community weren’t so well-adjusted to easy living, and learned to find the familiarity of violence wherever they possibly could.

Walking back from Tommy’s house one evening, you’re reminded of how pervasive the threat of humanity can be.

Joel leads you home after dinner with his family. Ellie had stayed behind at Maria and Tommy’s with promises of hot chocolate and a new book that Tommy had procured on patrol the week before. You’re wrapped around Joel’s arm, giggling at whatever nonsense story he was murmuring into the quiet air when a sharp whistle kills the hazy warmth of the night.

Standing alone in the pale-yellow light of a streetlamp, one of the men from a group of newcomers stares darkly at you and Joel as the two of you pass by. His eyes had been stalking you from the time you turned the corner, like he was waiting for the perfect time to make his move.

“Lookin’ good, baby. I’d love to get a piece of that ass.”

Joel stops dead in his tracks like he’d been scorned by the man’s words. It was obvious the stranger was looking to pick a fight, and Joel was not the type to let a remark like that go.

“The fuck did he just say-”

“Ignore ‘em, Joel. He’s just trying to rile you up.”

Your grip on Joel’s sleeve tightens to give the man a chance to reconsider. Maybe he didn’t mean to offend you and he’d apologize. Maybe he’d realize who Joel was and he’d run away. Maybe –

“Let me know when the old man croaks, sweetheart. I’ll show you how a real man takes care of a pretty thing like you.”

Joel whips around abruptly with rage in his eyes and tears his arm out of your grasp before you even realize what’s happening.

He pounces on the man and grabs him by the collar, pushing him backwards until he smacks into the wall of the building behind him.

“Shut the fuck up,” Joel snarls.

He slams his hand against the faded brick, barely missing the side of the man’s face with his palm. Too stunned by the scene playing out in front of you, you’re frozen where you stand in the middle of the street.

Realizing that he had made a mistake, the man puts his hands up in surrender, opening his mouth to speak when Joel cuts him off.

“If I hear another word out of your mouth, I’ll knock your head clean off your shoulders. You got that?”

He nods frantically, clearly aware that he’s not in the position to argue.

“Don’t ever talk about my girl like that again – or any woman here, for that matter. This ain’t the kinda place where people let that slide.”

Barely an inch separates the two men as Joel barks abuse at the creep until he’s red in the face. It’s been a long time since you’ve seen him this upset.

“You so much as look at her again and you’re dead. D’you hear me?”

The man shakes his head in acknowledgement, too stunned to respond.

Joel yanks him forward and away from the wall, almost throwing him to the ground from the rough force he uses. He holds the man at arm’s length, speaking loudly enough for you to hear him where you stand a couple paces away. “Good. Now tell her you’re sorry.”

The man meets your gaze over Joel’s jacket clad shoulder, stammering through his dazed apology. “M’sorry, ma’am. Won’t happen again.”

Joel releases him with a rough shove and backs away nodding. “You’re damn right.”

He walks backwards until he’s beside you again, your hand slinking under his outer layer to rest securely over his chest.

“My hero,” you tease, pressing a kiss to his cheek as the two of you continue your journey back home.

Watching over his shoulder as the the stranger staggers into the night, Joel mutters under his breath,

“I’d rather deal with the damn clickers.”

#lovely anons #calypso writes #Joel Miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller drabble #joel miller hurt/comfort #joel miller fluff #joel x reader #joel x you #joel x y/n #the last of us #tlou #joel tlou #the last of us x reader #pedro pascal x reader

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johnwickb1tsch · 25 days

Text

Yandere Tex Johnson x Witness!Reader x John Wick (AND x Constantine😜) Imagine WIP Part 9

Here we go my lovelies! @treedaddymcpuffpuff @sweetwolfcupcake @tammykelly @lilspookymeh @kurai-hono-blog

Wick could have been an asshole about buying a brand new kitchen, sundries included–but instead he merely shrugs off Constantine's hostile question. "Seemed like the least I could do."

Constantine glares, but lets it go, begrudgingly sitting down to a delectable meal cooked by the man he knows, deep down, that you've never been able to forget.

At Tex's midday administering of magical medicine, he takes your hand after you finish, refusing to let go. "Set with me a while, Rattlesnake." He pats the couch, on which there is no room unless you were to sit in his lap–undoubtedly his hope.

With a sigh and a knowing smirk you settle back in your chair. Your eyes are drawn to the burn upon his chest. He will carry that mark for the rest of his life, even if the magic is lifted.

You think on what Papa Midnite said to Constantine. "Take some big feeling..."

It kind of floors you, to think of the energy it took for Constantine to conjure that working out of thin air.

For you.

You told him a little bit about the boys. How they hurt you–and, how they saved your life. How you loved them, and how they destroyed you in their abandonment. No matter how you framed it, Constantine blamed them for the bullet wound forever seared in your side.

However, it wasn’t so simple as that.

"Whacha thinking, baby girl?"

You just shake your head with a tired smile. "Nothing important."

"Hmm. You gonna make me guess? Alright. You're thinkin'...bout that time in Mexico it was just you an me and the stars, out by the pool in our birthday suits."

You snort–quite against your will, it turns into a giggle.

"No..."

"Uh huh. You’re missin' my wicked tongue up between your thighs. I know that look."

"That's enough of that," you say, trying to stand. But he has your hand, and he tugs you so that you fall down to sit on the edge of the couch–and half on him. Your faces hover just centimeters away. You watch with horror a he tries to lean in, capitalizing on the opportunity. By the skin of your teeth, your heart in your throat, you just barely manage to turn your head.

"Didn't you miss me, rattlesnake?" he asks, his deep voice all sultry and low just wrecking you to the bone.

You dare reach up to caress his cheek with the blade of your thumb. "Of course I did. But there’s no going back, Tex. Maybe...that time is behind us." Just saying it hurts like a knife between the ribs, but you go on, “Maybe you and John did the right thing, letting me go.”

He just narrows his dark eyes at hearing that. You hate the way it gives you such a thrill, to the base of your spine, and lower still. “I thought you were mad about that? Hell, I’m still mad about that. I miss you so much I can hardly think straight. There’s just…” He frowns while he says it, but you know it’s just because he’d literally rather take a bullet than talk about his feelings. His grip on your hand tightens; he glares down at your silver rings like they owe him money. “There ain’t no point to anything, when you’re gone. Do you know what I mean?”

You close your eyes; for a moment you feel as though the floor has dropped out from under you, because you know exactly what he means. You lived it for months after they booted you, drifting from country to country, an empty husk of a woman, a gaping black hole where your heart used to be. Only after moving to LA, thinking about going back to school, and meeting Constantine, did your life start to feel like it had some meaning again.

“Yeah. I know what you mean,” you answer quietly. “But how did you think this would go? You’d knock on my door, and I’d just uproot my whole life for you again?”

“Maybe?” The confusion on his handsome face is almost cute. You realize he really did think it would be that easy, and you snort, looking away to a framed Tibetan Thangka painting on the wall. This man. As ever, you’re torn between kissing him and killing him. You have to keep reminding yourself that the former option is not even on the table.

“At least give me some credit. I coulda come in with guns blazin' but instead I brought flowers."

“You want credit?”

“Yeah. I’m practically a changed man. And I wouldn’t mind an apology from Wizard Boy either.”

"You've got to be kidding me." The pair on this man never ceases to amaze you.

"We were just having a little bit of friendly fisticuffs, but he fucked me up pretty good. That’s called unnecessary escalation.”

He would know.

"Spare me the macho bullshit. There’s no such thing as friendly fisticuffs. You were going to hurt my boyfriend, and you absolutely deserved what he gave you. You’re lucky he got Midnite to lift it."

Only a beat later do you realize you called Constantine your boyfriend within earshot of everyone, which you never do, because you both hate labels and the word just seems too high school for what you actually are to each other–but there’s no going back now.

“But–”

At last, at last, you are in a position where you don’t have to swallow his gaslighting. “No buts. You can behave yourself, Tex, or you can go. I mean it.”

Maybe drawn by the sound of your raised voice, Constantine chooses that moment to intervene, appearing at the foot of the couch with a magnificent frown.

“Well well, if it ain’t The Boy Who Lived.”

You know he’s just making yet another Harry Potter reference, but considering Constantine’s history, this nickname makes you flinch. Maybe it’s a mistake on your part, but you bristle. “Don’t call him that.”

Constantine, however, betrays nothing, just crossing his arms with that blandly judgy expression. “It’s alright, y/n. He loves childrens’ books–a man has to stick to his reading level.” You don't feel like arguing about the complexity of the later books, so you let the arrow fly.

You lift an eyebrow, side-eyeing Tex. “You do know an awful lot about Harry Potter for a grown ass man your age.”

For possibly the first time ever Tex actually looks sheepish. “Had to read something while I was in the shit.”

Tex never really told you much about his tour of duty in the Middle East. Bradford had intimated that it didn’t end well–but you weren’t exactly keen to take everything that asshole had said with any sort of seriousness. The thought of him holed up in a mud hut reading about Hogwarts kind of pulls at your heartstrings for some ridiculous reason.

“So what you want, Wizard Boy?” demands Tex, insouciantly refusing to let go of your hand, despite you tugging on it.

“I was going to check your chakras for malevolence, but I'm having second thoughts now.”

“Sounds illegal in five states.”

Constantine snorts. “You want me to double check Midnite's handiwork or not? If there's a trace of darkness left it could spread– and you'll be fucked all over again.”

“Not the way I like, I'm guessin’.”

“Probably not. But then again, you seemed to like Desdemona at the club. You want an introduction?” Constantine has a sly look on his handsome face as he asks this. It must be the succubus you'd run off– the thought of Tex in contact with her again makes you vibrate with jealousy. It is sharp, and fierce, and utterly fucking irrational.

You should encourage Tex to find someone else.

Your heart just doesn't agree.

“I'll…leave you two to it,” you say, reluctantly standing to pull away out of Tex's grip.

Only belatedly, after you've retreated to your room, do you realize that maybe Constantine interrupted your tête a tête with Tex for his sake, rather than yours.

***

John Wick whips you all up a beautiful dinner of sauteed meat and vegetables, complimented with a nice bottle of dry red wine that you're sure did not come from Trader Joe's. You play his sous chef, chopping up veggies, and it almost feels like old times in the kitchen, although he never would have given you access to a big sharp knife before. As though you ever would have had the nerve to stab him.

Tex was another matter.

At first you all sit down to share a semi-awkward meal, peppered with halting silences–until the second bottle of wine comes out, and then things flow more smoothly. It starts with Constantine cracking a joke at Tex's expense, which is surprisingly backed by Wick with a witty aside. Tex responds good naturedly, for once, and you just sit back and watch with a smile, a warm glow in your chest that feels too close to bliss to possibly last.

You help Wick with the dishes, drying as he washes because your dish rack is tiny. “You look tired, sweetheart,” he says after the last plate, bending down to kiss your forehead. You forget. You fucking forget that there are two other people there, one of whom is your current lover, and out of longing and pure habit you tilt your head back for the second staggeringly sweet kiss on your lips that always followed.

Only a long beat later do you realize what you've done, with Wick's shining dark eyes looking down on you, missing nothing. You gasp like a scandalized school girl, taking a small step back. “You're right,” you agree. “I am tired. Good night, everyone.” You're such a coward you can't even lift your head to look at any of them, though you can feel their eyes upon you as you scurry away.

Once in the sanctuary of your room you collapse on the bed, clutching the coverlet in your claws for hands, so embarrassed by your slip that you could die. You know that Constantine loves you, even if he’s never outright said it, and honestly probably never will–and this is how you repay him.

You really are a piece of work.

***

After you retreat, a silence falls over the kitchen, the three formidable men eyeing each other like wolves amidst a power struggle, trying to decide who is the weakest link and who is alpha. It’s Constantine who stands without a word, fetching his green glass bottle of Ardbeg single-malt scotch and setting it down in the middle of the table with a thunk. Then he produces three glasses–none matching–and pours out a finger for each.

“Gentlemen.” He looks between the two assassins seated at his table, a part of him flabbergasted as to how he’d even ended up in this situation. Before he met you, if someone told him someday he would find a woman he loved more than the air he breathed, he would have laughed them out of the room.

Not now.

How the mighty are brought low, and pride goeth before a fall, and all that proverbial biblical bullshit that is old as time and yet somehow still applies. Despite all our advances, humans are still essentially the same animal we were when we first left the cave and started walking upright–or when God created Adam out of dirt, whichever you find more believable.

“I believe we find ourselves at an impasse.”

“How you figure?” asks Tex, knocking back his drink and helping himself to another.

“Does being in love with the same woman ring a bell?”

Wick smirks, watching the exchange between the two, sipping his scotch sparingly. He does not contradict Constantine’s assessment, but in his succinct way he drives home the finer point. “More importantly, that woman is in love with all of us.”

The thought pulls something like a growl from deep in Constantine’s chest, but in the end he acknowledges, “Exactly.”

Tex smirks, leaning on his elbows. “Don’t be sore, Wizard Boy. Be grateful we broke her in for you.”

Constantine seems to count to ten under his breath, restraining himself from unleashing a curse on this fucking cowboy again. “You’re gonna have to give me pointers on how you manage not to murder him daily,” he says to Wick.

“I only listen to about half of what he says,” Wick admits with a smirk, a humorous glitter in his dark eyes.

“Good to know. My point is, if I curse you both into the Seventh Circle, it would hurt her. Likewise, if you two were to dig me a shallow grave out in the desert. You hurt her enough the first time. Do you follow?”

Wick nods, grasping Constantine’s train of thought immediately. Tex, however, has to chew on it a little–maybe because he’d hoped, for once, to finally have this girl to himself.

“You’re saying you don’t mind sharin’,” finally says Tex with a shit-eating grin, leaning back in his chair.

“Oh, I mind,” Constantine is sure to clarify. “But it’s up to her, if she wants you or not. If she decides she wants you to go–I will make you go. If she wants you to stay…” He spreads his big hands, as though to say, we’ll figure it out. Somehow.

Tex narrows his eyes, clearly debating if he should pick a fight over the make you go part, or take it as it sits on the table. “And how do you propose we let her know what we decided about this?”

Constantine snorts at that, draining his glass and standing from the table. “That’s your problem, Howdy Doody. Good night–and may the best man win.” The two assassins watch as John Constantine crosses to your bedroom, and practically shuts the door in their faces.

***

You are drifting on the edge of sleep when Constantine crawls into bed with you. You smile as you feel the familiar pattern of the depression in the mattress, and moan with surprise as he covers your mouth with his. You taste the Ardbeg on his tongue, which explains some of his ardor, but not all. The fury of his kisses on your lips and neck pulls an involuntary moan from deep in your lungs, his big hands digging into the flesh of your thigh, pulling you on top of him.

“John…?” Utterly star-struck, you blink down at him, disheveled in your pajama t-shirt and your hair a mess. He reaches up to cup your cheek, dwarfing your face in his large hand, studying you like there will be a test later. He opens his mouth like there’s something he wants to say to you, but he can’t quite get it out, the words stuck in his throat.

You think you know what it is, and your heart warms for it, that tingling thrill filling your chest and spreading outwards. You’re not even mad, that he can’t say it, because you get him. This is not the week you’re going to push him out of his comfort zone, more than you already have. Most of LA would laugh to hear it, but John Constantine has been a veritable fucking saint the past couple of days, and you’re so grateful to him.

“It’s ok,” you say softly, tracing the line of his square jaw. “I know.”

He frowns, almost like he wants to argue, but in the end he just shakes his head and pulls you to him.

You want to apologize for almost kissing John Wick right in fucking front of him–but that sticks in your throat too. You guess you’re both just a little raw tonight.

He peels off your t-shirt greedily as he guides you down. Hungry lips and a teasing tongue find the sensitive tips of your breasts, making you squirm with longing above him. You know you’ve already soaked through the laughable barrier of your panties, and are probably leaving an unsightly stain on his nice (200 dollar, he likes to tell you with a smirk) white shirt–but if the Chinese laundry down the street can get out demon blood stains, what’s a little cum?

You let out a cry of longing as he releases your nipple with a pop; the ache between your thighs is already nearly unbearable, and you can't stop yourself from grinding against his lean torso. You shut your mouth as soon as you open it, conscious of the paper thin walls and the two dangerous men on the other side of them.

“You like that, baby?” he taunts, hooking his fingers in your panties to tug them down.

“You know I do,” you pant.

“Then let me hear you,” he invites with a wicked smirk, shifting down so that you are nearly sitting on his face. You don’t know what was said out there, but you are starting to get the idea that John Constantine is up to something. But before you can even begin to think what to do about it, he pulls you forward with an undeniable grip on your thighs, and his tongue is laving up your slit.

“Fuck.”

This exclamation is not quiet, and neither are the ones after it. You practically shake the walls with your cries when you cum on his tongue, your body rendered into a quivering mess of over-stimulated nerves. He does not grant you mercy, even when you beg him, and by the time he is done with you, you are halfway to your second orgasm.

“Do you want me baby?” he demands, panting from his champion cunnilingus league exertions as he undresses himself. There is a desperation in his tone you’ve never quite heard before, and you have a feeling he’s not just talking about sex.

“I need you,” you tell him, and you mean every word. It wins you every inch of his hard cock buried inside you, and you can’t stop yourself from moaning, as though there is no room for breath in your body when filled with his impressive manhood. He grips you hard enough to bruise, his face buried in the bend of your neck.

He drives himself inside of you, hips pumping with the fury of his need, but he’s prepared you for it. It’s all you can do just to hold on, to the bed, to him, letting him use you exactly the way he wants to, because you know the past couple of days have been anything but easy for him.

When his thumb finds your clit you think you might die from the overwhelming sensation of it. “No,” you beg, somehow smiling through your exasperation. “Please. Mercy.”

He just pays you that impish curl of lips that always seriously makes you question which side he's playing for. “You can take it,” he informs you. “For me?” The way he pouts down at you while simultaneously rearranging your insides should be illegal.

“Fuck,” you swear again, and he grins down at you, knowing he’s got you in the bag. With your ankles around his ears he slows down for you, but still fills you to the absolute brim, working you in just the rhythm he knows you need with the tip of his too-clever thumb. There is a heart wrenching beauty in making love like this. The two of you have reached an understanding of each other's bodies, a point of familiarity in which you just know, and yet somehow each time is better than the last.

It isn't long before you cum on his cock with a ragged scream that you know there’s no way in hell the boys didn’t hear, yet you cannot stop it, you cannot care, because the man inside you has rendered you into a vessel for this mind-bending pleasure and in this moment, you belong completely to him. His hips snap against yours, and soon he follows with your greedy little cunt fluttering around him, spilling himself inside you with a loud groan.

He collapses beside you, pulling you into his arms. You revel in the sticky warmth of his seed seeping between your thighs, his heart a furious drumbeat beneath your ear. “Jesus fucking Christ,” is all you can manage to wheeze against the warmth of his chest.

“Right initials,” he pants, pressing lips to your hair. “Wrong guy.”

Thinking you really might have lost your mind, you start to cackle, and you can’t stop until you literally can’t breathe. You do not even have the energy to clean up, falling asleep in the beautiful mess John made of you, and maybe it’s just you, but even in his sleep John Constantine seems to hold you more tightly than he ever has before.

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

😬

it's on? 😈😈😈

@sweetwolfcupcake @treedaddymcpuffpuff @tammykelly

#wicked johnson fic #constantine x reader #constantine x you #john wick #john wick x reader #keanu reeves #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves x reader #yandere john wick #tex johnson #tex johnson x you

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rougepancake · 11 months

Note

CAN YOU DO THE (adult) FEMALE DEMON SLAYER CHARACTERS WITH 86, GENRE SMUT OBVI🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

It’s pride month u better accept

OH OH OH YES 💪💪

Prompt 86- “Don’t be shy now, sit on my face.”

Ft. Kocho Shinobu, Mitsuri Kanroji, Hinatsuru Makio & Suma, Lady Tamayo

Warnings: Cunnilingus, Oral (f!receiving) (duh-), duh con, first time in Mitsuri’s, weird demon hormones in Tamayo’s, Afab!Reader (no real pronouns used, just female anatomy). Mdni, I will block you if you do. Also not proofread because I’m too silly for them rules.

KOCHO SHINOBU

“Oh I don’t know Kocho, now’s not the time and I’m really not feeling tha-“

“Love, I don’t really care.” Shinobu smiled, her hands neatly folded in her lap as she sat across from you. She looked so unnecessarily calm, which meant she was planning something. “You’re a horrible liar anyways, so just let me relieve your stress already.”

“Kocho.” You said sternly, your lips forming in a pout. This argument had been going on for roughly an hour, where Shinobu would bring up the idea of eating you out and you’d decline because you’d ‘had a long day’.

But Shinobu was right- you were a terrible liar.

While you had missed her while she was away, Shinobu had the tendency to get a little… carried away.

“Y/n…” She returned your serious stare, getting up and slowly moving to where you sat on the couch. Slowly and teasingly, she pulled off her butterfly haori and began to unbutton her corps uniform. She leaned back and propped herself up on her elbows, her hair falling down into her face making her look ten times sexier than usual.

“Dear god Kocho.” You rolled your eyes, your face flushed as you began to strip yourself of your clothes. “You’re relentless.”

“Can you blame me?” She whispered seductively, her eyes taking in every inch of your body. “I’ve missed you so much love.”

You scoffed and crossed your arms over your chest stubbornly, pouting at her slightly. “You see this? You’re so mean to me.” You cracked a smile and slowly crawled over to her.

“Hush and hurry up.” She reached out and put her hands on your waist, her grip harsh. You huffed and placed your thighs on either side of her face, hesitant to sit down fully. Her hands moved from your waist to your thighs, forcing you to put your weight on her.

“Don’t be shy love, sit on my face.” She smirked into your skin and buried herself in your cunt.

MITSURI KANROJI

She brought it up a while back, explaining shyly how she wanted to sit on your face and have you taste her that way. But she was incredibly nervous since she wasn’t exactly petite, and while it sounds far fetched, she was worried about you suffocating or something.

“So about you sitting on my face.” You stated bluntly as she crawled into your shared bed. Mitsuri’s face flushed a bright shade of red and she swallowed thickly, avoiding your gaze and sitting on the edge of the bed.

“O-Oh you want to do that…?” She nervously ran a hand through her hair, internally cursing herself for being so nervous at the thought.

You rolled over onto your side, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. She slowly looked over at you, giving you an anxious smile.

“We don’t have to if you don-“

“I want to.” She interrupted, turning quickly to look you in your eyes, her face mere inches away from your own.

You chuckled and rolled onto your back, pulling her close to you.

“Well don’t be a stranger darling, sit on my face.” You placed your hands on her thighs and helped her put her weight onto you.

Oh boy was she glad she suggested that.

HINATSURU, MAKIO, & SUMA

Oh they’re evil. All three of them. They gang up on you while Tengen is away for business (demon slaying ain’t easy folks), since you’re their favorite little housemaid.

Makio is the most cruel though, and she sure does love picking on you. Watching you do your job just isn’t enough for her, and she likes to sneak up behind you and wrap her arms around you, her body grinding up against yours as she whispers the WORST things into your ear.

If anything, she’s the one that wants you the most out of the three.

And here you are, standing in their shared bedroom in front of her, dressed fully in uniform while she lays down onto the futon, smirking as you make eye contact. She motions you forward and suddenly the other wives come in, gently pushing you forward.

They keep saying that they’ll take good care of you, and it’s not like you’re worried about I then hurting you… you’re just incredibly anxious. You’ve never been intimate with someone like this before, since you’ve been working as long as you remember, you haven’t really had time for any of that.

“Do you want us to help you undress..?” Hinatsuru whispered sweetly, giving you a soft smile as you stood over Makio’s nude form.

“No. The maid outfit stays on.” Makio interrupted, and Suma chuckled quietly behind you. Her hands snaked their way up to behind your knees, pushing slightly so your knees would buckle and you would land on her.

She pushed your panties aside as the other two draped their arms around you, giggling here and there.

“There’s no need to be shy, just sit on my face already.” Makio gripped your thighs and pulled you down, and you moaned loudly as she began to eat you out like you were her last meal.

Hinatsuru and Suma’s hands trailed along your body, looking for your sensitive spots as you rode Makio’s face.

It was pure bliss.

LADY TAMAYO

“Tamayo? Is that you?” You carefully turned on the light, revealing the figure in your doorway.

She looked rough, her hair messy and her chest heaving slightly. Without a word, she walked over to you and crawled onto your bed. Her eyes refused to look anywhere but yours as she got closer, and you noticed that her face was flushed slightly.

Could she be sick?

No she doesn’t get sick…

“Y/n, my love.” She panted weakly, desperation shining in her eyes. “I need to feel you.” Tamayo smiled up at you, her body lowering down onto your bed as she awaited you.

You offered her a kind smile and went to take off her kimono, but she stopped you, her eyes shining seriously.

“No. I need to taste you.” She was incredibly straightforward, her fingers beckoning you to come closer. “I want you to sit on my face. Full force. I need you.” She sounded incredibly out of breath, and that’s when you realized that she must be in some form of heat.

“Are you su-“

“I wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t sure.” She retorted, her fingers twitching as if she wanted nothing more than to tear your clothes from your body and ravish you. “Now.” Her lips curled into a small smirk. “Don’t be shy. Get over here and sit on my face already.”

#I actually loved this #this was a wonderful idea anon tsym 😩#demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #kny smut #shinobu x reader #kny mitsuri #mitsuri smut #shinobu smut #tamayo x reader #tamayo smut #lady tamayo #kny makio #kny hinatsuru #kny x reader #kny suma #kny girls x female reader #kny x y/n #demon slayer smut

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justagalwhowrites · 9 months

Text

Yearling - Ch. 5: Movement

Tommy asks Joel for a favor. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-4 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: None, but the whole fic is violent and eventually smutty. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only

Length: 5.8k

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Spring, 1997

Your parents couldn’t have planted a better way to catch you sneaking out of the house if they tried.

Not that you snuck out much. Usually you just went down to the stables to hang out with your horse, Athena, when you couldn’t sleep. Or you went to clamber onto the roof over the front porch to lay out and look up at the stars. You’d always loved the constellations, memorizing the patterns and the stories that went with them.

But there was one stupid floorboard just outside your parents’ bedroom that creaked when you stepped on it and you tried to dodge it, you really did, but it was dark and you misjudged just where you were in the hall. You stood, ball of your foot on the squeaky board like it was a landmine, lifting your weight slowly, hoping it minimized the sound. It didn’t make much difference.

You waited, just beyond their door, to see if there was stirring inside but the only sound was your dad’s even snoring. The rest of the path to your brother’s room was easy.

Once you’d closed the door softly behind you, you dove onto his bed, hurtling your weight against his stomach and chest, making him groan.

“What the fuck?” Richie mumbled, shoving you back. “The hell you doin’ in here, Bug? What time s’it?”

“Almost four,” you tucked your legs below you, sitting back on your heels, moonlight shining off his skin. “I need your help.”

“Whatever it is can wait an hour and a half ’til I’m up for the day,” he groaned, turning onto his stomach and burying his face in his pillow. “Fuck off.”

“See, it can’t though,” you pushed on his arm and he turned his head. You could barely make out his glaring at you in the dark. “Has to be now, c’mon.”

“Bug, I swear to God…”

“Mama’ll kill you if she hears you taking the lord’s name in vain around me,” you said, smug. You could almost hear him roll his eyes. “Fine, you want to stay here? I’ll do it myself but you’re gonna get in trouble for lettin’ me.”

That got his attention.

“Lettin’ you do what?” He asked. “Not a damn soul can control you least of all me…”

“Well I’m gonna go break Triton so you can either help and make sure I don’t snap my neck or you can stay here and face Daddy’s wrath…”

“You’re what!” He yelped, sitting bolt upright. You shushed him, clasping your hand over his mouth, keeping it there until you were sure neither of your parents were about to come into his room to see what the commotion was.

“Sorry,” you whispered when you released him. “Don’t be so dumb next time, Jesus…”

“You ain’t bein’ serious,” he said, propping an arm on his knee as he rubbed the sleep from his face. You didn’t say anything, just looked at him. He sighed. “Dammit Bug. You’re my least favorite sister, you know that, right?”

“I’m your only sister,” you said, smug. “Now c’mon, let’s go! Everyone will be working in like two hours…”

“I’ll meet you at the stable in 10 minutes,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes again. “I’m just in boxers, not gettin’ outta bed with you here.”

“Gross,” you said cheerfully, going for his door.

“Don’t you dare even go in his stall ’til I’m there, you understand me?” He said, voice sharp. “I mean it, Bug, you’ll get fuckin’ trampled.”

“I’m not an idiot,” you rolled your eyes and left, heading to the stables.

It was so early that no one was at work yet and the ranch was still and quiet. You went into the stable and peered into Athena’s stall for a moment, your horse sleeping peacefully. You resisted the urge to go curl up next to her and went to collect the tack for Triton.

You waited by his stall, the stallion just starting to stir. He got to his feet and shook his large head once, his mane bouncing with it as he ambled over to the door. He was big, one of the biggest horses on your father’s ranch. You’d ridden bigger horses than him but never one who wasn’t well broke.

But you’d been watching your father and brothers and two other ranch hands struggle to get through to Triton for weeks. You perched on the fence post and watched as they got thrown and kicked, the horse often taking off to the other side of the paddock while totally out of control. They couldn’t get him past saddle broke, Triton willing to take tack but not a rider. He’d been a significant investment, intended to be used as a stud for some of the mares on the ranch as well as a horse to drive cattle, but he was useless if the men couldn’t get him to take commands.

You’d sat and watched them fail and fail with him the day before, silent from your position on the fence, when Triton took off, doing a circuit of the paddock and coming to a stop near you. Your dad screamed at you to get back on the other side of the fence but you ignored him, slowly reaching your hand for the horse’s muzzle. His velvet nose sniffed you before he pressed into your palm and you petted him gently. He chuffed and moved closer and you looked in his eyes. He was just afraid. Afraid of the big men and their frustration and rage and the plans they had for his body that were going to shit because he wouldn’t bend to their will.

“I understand you,” you said quietly. He chuffed again and twitched his ears. “It’s OK. I understand. I’ll help. I understand.”

Kevin, one of the ranch hands, ran over and grabbed Triton’s reins, tugging him away from you, making his large hooves stomp into the dirt.

“Can’t go messin’ with the princess of the ranch,” he muttered as the horse tossed his head and dragged his feet.

You decided then that the men weren’t ever going to get this horse to where he needed to be. They couldn’t. But you could. You just needed a chance, just needed to connect with him and let him figure it out with you, that’s all.

“You’re fuckin’ nuts, Bug,” Richie yawned, tugging his Levis up by the beltloops as he came over to you. “Triton’s gonna chew you up and spit you out.”

“Well then you can watch and tell Brendan all about it,” you said, jerking your chin toward the bunk house where your oldest brother now lived. “But you’re wrong. I’m gonna get him there. He just needs someone to trust.”

“Swear to shit you break somethin’…”

“It’s on me,” you smiled. He sighed and waved you back as he put the bridle on Triton and brought him out of his stall. Richie got the horse saddled and you stood back and watched, Triton keeping his eyes on you the whole time. The three of you went into the paddock, the only light coming from the barn, the moon and the stars. You clambered onto the fence as Richie held the reins.

“What do you wanna do?” He asked, watching you. “Since you want to be a ranch hand so damn bad.”

You flipped him off before holding your hand out to Triton, letting him sniff you. It took him a moment before he pressed his soft, smooth muzzle into your palm, his breath hot on your skin. You took a deep breath.

“You remember how to handle if he tries to buck you, right?” Richie asked, tone nervous. You nodded. “And I know you know how to try and fall and land when he throws you?”

“I’m not a dumbass,” you rolled your eyes. He just nodded.

“Alright, well…” He sighed, looking at Triton. “I’ll make sure you don’t get trampled, don’t do anything stupid.”

You nodded and swallowed, putting your hand on Triton’s neck and stroking him gently, moving down his body until you reached his saddle. It was more nerve-racking than you anticipated, getting ready to climb on Triton. You knew what was about to happen was going to hurt, even if he didn’t throw you. And Triton was big. Bigger than Athena by a hand at least, closer to two. Controlling him would be harder even if he was well broke.

“You gotta get on ‘em quick,” Richie sounded nervous.

“I ain’t stupid,” you muttered, putting your hands on the saddle.

“Sure you ain’t,” Richie muttered back.

You ignored him and all but jumped on Triton’s back, snapping your feet into the stirrups and Richie bolting back from the horse as he shot off away from the fence, totally outside your control. But you hung on, even as he started to buck below you. You tried to reach out, get a hand on him instead of just the saddle but your foot slipped from the stirrup and you flew, smacking into the dirt, the air knocked out of you. You heard Richie scrambling to get Triton under control as you rolled and got to your hands and knees, gasping for breath.

“Alright, you tried,” Richie panted, Triton whinnying and stomping his feet in protest. “Let’s go in before you really get hurt.”

“No,” you got up and brushed yourself off, feeling the grit under your palms. “I’m good, I want to go again.”

“Bug,” Richie sighed.

“I’ll do it without you.”

He sighed again.

“Catch your breath first,” he said. “Then we’ll go again.”

Triton threw you three more times but you kept getting up and getting back on him, Richie sounding more and more frustrated each time.

“Can’t keep doin’ this,” he said as you got ready to get back on Triton yet again. “You’re fixin’ to get yourself killed…”

“One more,” you said, shaking your arms to loosen up more. “Let me do one more and if he throws me again I’ll go in.”

“Fine,” he sighed. “One more, Bug. Then I’m puttin’ you over my shoulder and draggin’ you in, I don’t care if you scream the whole ranch down.”

You just nodded, looking up at Triton for a moment, his nostrils flaring. You reached your hand out for his nose again and it took a moment before he pressed his muzzle into your palm.

“It’s OK,” you said to him gently, looking him in the eye. “I’m tryin’ to help you, not tryin’ to hurt you. It’s OK.”

“He can’t understand you,” Richie said. You glared at him.

You jumped on Triton again and he took off but you were able to get seated properly this time, heels low in the stirrups, one hand on the reins the other on the saddle as he bucked and writhed. You could feel how he was moving this time, able to shift in tandem with him, like you were an extension of him and he of you. You could sense his anger and longing for control and almost rabid panic as you held on until, eventually, he started to calm below you. His movements slowed and eased, reduced to scratching his hooves at the earth and tossing his head as you held the reins.

“Holy shit,” Richie breathed as you leaned forward slowly, cautiously, and stroked Triton’s neck.

“See?” You said gently, voice soothing as you ran your fingers over him. “You’re OK. It’ll be OK, I’ll take care of you, not going to hurt you, you’re OK…”

You let him walk the perimeter of the paddock, tossing his head and puffing, occasionally getting restless and trying to buck you again. You were ready for him though, hanging on when he thrashed and reaching forward to soothe him and praise him when he calmed.

When the sun began to rise on the horizon, you had him responding to some basic commands. You were able to turn him right or left and pull him into a one-rein stop. You’d almost forgotten you were doing what you were doing without permission until you heard your father screaming your name as he ran for the fence. He jumped it like he was a man in his 20s not his 50s, hurtling for you. You tightened your grip on Triton’s reins and leaned forward on him, shushing him as he started to stomp impatiently.

“You tryin’ to get yourself killed?” He panted, his eyes huge. “The hell were you thinking!”

“Daddy,” you said, voice calm. “You’re gonna spook ‘em and I’ve been workin’ all mornin’ to get him here, appreciate it if you don’t ruin it for me.”

“It’s true,” Richie said, his arms crossed as he leaned against a fence post. “She’s been at it for hours…”

“And you let her?” Your father rounded on your brother. “She’s 13, she’s a kid but you’re 18, you’re an adult! I expect better outta you…”

“You know as well as I do that nothin’s gonna stop her once she sets her mind to somethin’,” He replied. “Figured it’d be better if I were out here to help than if she did it on her own.”

“You were scarin’ ‘em, Daddy,” you said, stroking Triton’s neck gently. He chuffed at it, turning his head enough to look back at you. You met his gaze and smiled softly, giving him a reassuring pat. “He just needed to know someone was lookin’ out for him. That’s all. Can’t just force ‘em, Daddy. Gotta help ‘em.”

The ranch hands had started gathering around the fence, looking up at you from your perch on the back of the horse you’d brought to heel. He shifted his weight, wary, but calmed when you leaned over his neck, your hands on him.

“Just gotta help ‘em.”

***

Late April, 2026

“Hey, Joel,” Tommy jogged over to him as he walked back to his house. It was still outside, the air cool but with the promise of summer on the edges of it. The sun was setting, most people in town already home if they weren’t eating a late dinner at the mess hall or going to the Tipsy Bison for a drink. Joel found himself actually looking forward to the quiet evening alone before his brother came up, looking forward to the silence and the chance to relax into what his life was now. “Got a minute? Been meanin’ to talk to you about somethin’.”

“Sure,” Joel shrugged, heading inside. “Not like I got anywhere to be.”

He led the way into the house, Tommy lingering at his bookshelf like he was reading the titles of the books there. As if he hadn’t seen the room dozens of times before.

“Get you a drink?” Joel called from the kitchen, getting himself a glass of water.

“Nah,” Tommy said. “Won’t be here too long. Unless you wanted to do somethin’…”

“What’d you need, Tommy.”

He smiled a little, nodding and looking at the ground for a second before meeting his eyes again.

“Just wonderin’ what you thought of Bambi and the job she’s doin’ here so far. Since you brought her into town and all…”

Joel looked at him for a moment, taking a drink of water to buy himself time.

He didn’t want to admit it but he’d been all but actively avoiding you since the incident at the stables in December. Not that he wasn’t perfectly polite when he saw you, always giving you an expected “how’s your day” when he came by to get a horse or return one. You weren’t exactly verbose in return, usually just shrugging or saying “fine” and handing him the reins or taking them back. He didn’t feel like he could get any closer to you than that. He was focused on trying to fix things with Ellie, still trying to remember what it was like to be a whole person with something to live for. And you seemed to want little to do with anyone at all, content to be on your own with the horses and sometimes the dogs. You didn’t trust people and he didn’t blame you. It wasn’t fair to you for him to try to insert himself into your life, to try to be your friend.

In part because he wasn’t sure he could be just your friend.

He didn’t trust himself to try to keep a reasonable distance from you if he got closer. Every time your fingers brushed his when he passed his horse off to you after a patrol he wanted to take your hand and pull you against him. He wanted to breathe you in, feel you against him, soak up the vitality that clung to you like a second skin. He wanted to know you and understand you but he knew and understood himself enough to know that this wouldn’t be enough. You were beautiful and strong and so fucking alive he wanted to take in everything you would give him, everything. He wouldn’t be satisfied with just being friends, not with how he already saw you, how he was already drawn to you. He wanted to be your friend. He couldn’t stop at being your friend.

So he kept his distance.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t notice things. He noticed things. He noticed the fact that you stood up a little straighter now. He noticed that sometimes you wore your hair down now and you didn’t stare at the ground when he caught a glimpse of you going to the mess hall. He noticed that you always wore his coat, even as the weather grew warmer and he knew you had to be sweltering in it, especially as you worked in the stables. He’d never seen you in town without that coat.

“Doin’ good, all things considered,” he shrugged after a second. “Horses seem good, ‘specially Samson. But you’d be better off askin’ one of her friends than me, don’t know her all that well.”

“Well now, see, that’s the thing,” Tommy cupped the back of his neck and winced a bit. “She doesn’t exactly have a lot of those…”

Joel frowned. He’d never seen you with people but he assumed that was because he usually saw you when you were working. You couldn’t just be alone here. Right?

“She must have a couple,” he said. “She’s been here months…”

“Yeah, the council is worried about that, too,” Tommy nodded. “She’s got a big job here now and she’s doin’ that real well, got Samson to the point that we can take ‘em on patrol and shoot from his back and he don’t even flinch but they’re worried she’s not integrating here well otherwise.”

“Can’t force her,” Joel shrugged as he took another drink of water. “She don’t want friends, can’t make her have friends, Tommy.”

“We just can’t afford to have her want to leave,” he said. “So Maria asked me to talk with you. See if you could check in on her a bit, see how she’s doin’…”

“Tommy,” Joel sighed, tensing his jaw. “Don’t think I’m the right person…”

His brother cut him off.

“Only person she is friends with is Ellie,” he said.

“Ellie.”

“Ellie. And I know you’d want to keep an eye on what Ellie’s up to, make sure she’s a good influence,” Tommy said. “Make sure if she does decide to take off she don’t take Ellie with her…”

Joel sighed again. He knew what Tommy was doing. He wasn’t stupid. Joel could say no to his brother, he could say no to the council, he couldn’t say no to looking out for his daughter. He hadn’t even responded when Tommy smiled, like he knew what Joel was about to say.

“About time we added her to the patrol rotation, anyway,” he said. “Thought you could make sure she knows how to shoot, show her the ropes. We’ll go out with her later this week, see how she does. She can pair up with you after that, assuming all goes well.”

“Sure,” Joel said before he could do the smart thing and push back on it. “For a bit at least.”

“Great,” Tommy smiled, clapping Joel on the shoulder. “Appreciate it!”

Joel stood on his porch and watched his brother leave before he sighed and went back into his house. He sat on his couch and put his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands for a moment. He’d just need to keep it together for a few weeks. Get you up to speed and set up to go on patrol with someone else and make sure that you weren’t about to take off in the middle of the night while taking Ellie with you. He’d gotten himself to a life that was satisfying, even if it wasn’t necessarily happy. He had people he cared about, a community he liked being a part of, a home to come back to at the end of the day. He didn’t want to want more than this. You were dangerously close to longing, to wanting more than he had.

But if you were friends with Ellie, he’d have to check in on you.

He considered drinking before seeking you out. That’s what he wanted to do, anyway. Drink or sleep and put this off. But he decided to bite the bullet and walked to your house. He frowned when he got there, the lamp in the entry way on. Joel remembered you turning it off when you got home the last time he was here. He remembered everything you did when he’d walked you here that night four months ago. But it was after nine. He’d never seen you in the Tipsy Bison, never seen you stay at the mess hall for a meal - always taking your food and all but fleeing with it. Ellie’s had been dark when you left. Where the hell were you?

He headed for the stable, not sure where else to check for you when a thought crossed his mind. What if you did have someone in town, someone Tommy hadn’t noticed? A place you’d be after dark when the day was done, someone who you didn’t ask to stop at the end of your walk, who got to run their fingers over your skin and feel how soft he knew you must be, who got to push his coat off your shoulders and undress you bit by bit.

Well, that would have to be a good thing, he thought to himself as his stomach twisted and his chest got tight. That would mean that you had ties to the community and he wouldn’t need to worry about checking in. He could keep his distance and try not to think about someone else touching you the way he wanted to touch you. Fuck, what if someone was touching you…

He tried to ignore the relief that was so deep he felt it in his marrow when he found you at the stables. No one else was around, even on the road outside and he didn’t think you were expecting anyone. You were in a stall with one of the horses, running a brush over her, still wearing his coat even though it was plenty warm and you were singing. It wasn’t loud - he got the impression you were trying to keep it down, to keep from drawing any unwanted attention and not spook the horse - but it was powerful, your voice strong and clear. Without the music - especially the bass line - it took him half a second to place the song, but you were singing The Chain. It was slower, more lilting and less forceful than what he was used to but he liked it. He smiled at that. He couldn’t remember the last time he heard someone singing Fleetwood Mac. Especially not someone who was good. Damn good. And you were, you were really fucking good.

If it had been before - before the outbreak, before he had the responsibility of being a father and he still had the dream of being a musician - and he heard you sing, he’d have approached you. Hoped to have latched onto your talent, your voice, hoped that you’d let him have anything to do with a sound like that. Now, he just listened to it, basked in it, let your voice seep into him as he tried to hold onto it, onto you.

You came to the end of the song and you hadn’t noticed him there, your usual hyper-vigilance lessened when you were focused on something else, and you pressed your forehead against the side of the horse’s head, saying something quietly to it that he couldn’t quite hear.

“You’re good,” Joel said. You jumped and spun, your eyes wide and doe-like, frantically looking for either a place to hide or a way to attack. He wasn’t sure which. He held up his hands as he pushed off the post he’d been leaning on. “S’OK, not going to hurt you, wasn’t tryin’ to scare you…”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Your body relaxed some and you picked up the brush that you’d dropped in your panic. “You can’t just sneak up on people like that!”

“Wasn’t tryin’ to sneak up on you,” he said, stepping closer. You watched him and adjusted, sticking close to the horse. “Promise. Just hadn’t heard someone singing that song in a long time and didn’t want to interrupt. You really are damn good.”

“Thanks,” you said, cautious and cagey as you moved to the other side of the horse.

“You play?” Joel asked, moving to the wall of the stall you were in. He propped his arms on the top of it, keeping his hands visible, hoping that would help make you less nervous.

“Play what?”

“Anything,” he laughed a little. “Just sound like you know what you’re doin’ with music so I was wonderin’ if you played.”

You looked at the horse, starting to brush her side.

“Yeah,” you said after a minute. “Yeah. It’s been a few years, but I play. Could play. Sure I could play again if I had the chance.”

“What do you play?” He asked, watching you, the tension slowly leaving your body.

“Guitar,” you said, focusing on the horse and not looking at him. “Piano, violin and fiddle, drums. Like a kit, don’t know much about full percussion, don’t want me on a marimba or something…”

“So you really know music,” he smiled a little, picturing you with a guitar, your hair falling forward as you bent over the body of the instrument in your arms.

“Somethin’ like that,” you stopped brushing and looked up at him. “Can I help you with anything or do you just like spying on people?”

“I was hoping to talk with you actually,” he said. “If you have a minute.”

“I’m just grooming Renaissance here,” you said, nodding to the mare. You kept the horse’s body between him and you. “Now’s a good a time as any.”

“Why are you here so late?” Joel frowned. “You need more help in the stables? Because shouldn’t need to work all…” “I like being here,” you cut him off, defensive. “Renaissance came back covered in burrs today so I figured I’d give her a good once over. I don’t have to be here, I want to be here.”

“OK,” he said gently.

“OK,” you said, a little calmer, looking back at the horse, brushing her again. “What did you want?”

“Wanted to see how you’re doing is all,” he said. You looked at him with narrowed eyes over the back of the horse. “And talk to you about addin’ you to the patrol rotation.”

You frowned at that.

“Patrol?” You said. You had the doe eyes again. “Like… leave Jackson. Go lookin’ for trouble.”

“Not lookin’ for trouble,” he smiled a little. “Just checkin’ in on what’s goin’ on nearby and intervening before there’s trouble. Think you’d be good at it.”

“What would I need to do?” You asked.

“We’d need to make sure you can shoot,” he said. “Already know you can ride just fine.”

You snorted at that.

“Pretty sure you can spot a threat from about a mile out,” he teased a little and your eyes met his, less big and scared this time. Instead they were sharp - in the clever way - and soft.

“I can shoot,” you said. “And I’m good at watching for threats. Except when they’re you sneakin’ up on me at the stable, apparently.”

Joel shrugged.

“Maybe you just know I’m not a threat.”

“Do I?” You asked, head cocked.

“Still wearin’ my coat,” he said. “Don’t think you’d do that if you thought I was a threat.”

Your eyes narrowed.

“I get cold.”

“And I’m not a threat,” he said. “At least, not to you.”

You finished brushing the horse and put your hand on her haunch as you came around back of her to the wall of the stall. You stood in front of him, the closest you’d ever been to him voluntarily. His breath hitched.

“So how’s it work?” You asked, looking up at him.

“How’s what work?” He’d damn near forgotten what he was talking with you about.

You smiled a little.

“Patrol. How’s it work?”

“Right,” he said quickly. “Well, I’ll take you out sometime in the next few days here, test your shooting. Assuming you’re good with that, you’ll go out with me’n Tommy for a bit, make sure you’re OK with it, then we’ll work you into the regular rotation. You’ll go out every few weeks, usually with the same partner so you’ll get used to workin’ with someone.”

You nodded slowly.

“And I’d be armed, right?” You asked. “Assuming that’s why you’d need to know that I can shoot?”

“Yeah, Bambi,” he laughed a little. “Not gonna send you out there without a gun.”

“OK,” you nodded slowly. “I can do that.”

You opened the stall and put the brush away before getting a blanket, Joel watching you the whole time.

You frowned.

“Anything else?”

“Figured I’d walk you home,” he said. “Assuming you’re done here…”

You looked at him for a second, considering him.

“OK.”

You went back into the stall and put the blanket over the horse and gave her a quick scratch and whispered something to her before closing the stall behind her. You shoved your hands in your pockets and started off, Joel careful to be close but not so close that you tensed up and watched him, all vigilant caution.

“So,” he said after you’d been walking for a minute. “You likin’ it OK? Jackson, I mean?”

“I think so,” you frowned a little. “It’s hard to really know. Haven’t been around people like this in so long, feels a little like I’ve been dropped onto an alien planet and I’m still figurin’ it all out.”

Joel nodded.

“I was the same way, comin’ here,” he said. “‘Course I’d been in a QZ for the 15 or so years before but that was different, place was nothin’ like here. But I had Tommy’n Ellie when I got here… Still. It took adjusting.”

“So you’re Ellie’s dad?” You looked up at him, your hands in the pockets of the coat, your brows drawn together.

“No,” he sighed, though that felt like a lie to say. He felt like Ellie’s dad. He felt like Ellie’s dad more than he felt like he was anything else that mattered. “But I’m her guardian. We traveled here together, from Boston. She had family out this way, or we thought she did, anyway. Hired me to bring her out here since I was heading west, anyway, lookin’ for Tommy. Her people were gone before we got here and… Well, by then I didn’t want to leave ‘er anyway…”

You nodded, a sense of understanding in your eyes before you looked at the ground.

“So she’s your daughter in the ways that matter,” you said, looking back at him after a moment.

“Yeah,” Joel nodded.

“And you did something that pissed ‘er off good,” you said, smiling a little.

“Yeah,” Joel said, laughing once at the simplification of it. “Somethin’ like that. Yeah. It was the right choice but I understand why she’s mad. Don’t expect her to forgive me for it, but… I hope she will. I hope she’ll understand, one day.”

“Kids are hard,” you said, looking straight ahead. “But she’s a smart kid. She’ll understand it at some point, if it really was the right thing.”

Joel nodded. He wasn’t sure Ellie would ever see it as the right thing. But that was OK. He knew it was. Anything that kept her alive was the right thing. That was all he needed.

“You’re friends with her,” he said. He’d meant to ask it but it hadn’t come out that way.

“She decided we were friends,�� you smiled a little. “But… I like her. She’s… she’s something else.”

“Yeah, she’s definitely that,” Joel laughed.

He stopped at the gate to your front walk and you stood in front of him, your hands in the pockets of the coat you’d kept, looking up at him and fuck he wanted to kiss you. He wanted to take your face in his hand and pull your mouth to his and kiss you. The moonlight caught on your hair and made your eyes shine and he wondered if you’d taste sweet, he felt like you would.

“When is good to do the shooting stuff?” You asked.

“Tomorrow work?” He asked, both hands firmly in the pockets of his jeans so he wouldn’t do something stupid. “Afternoon?”

“Yeah,” you nodded after thinking for a second. “Shouldn’t have any patrols coming or going then, should be able to leave the stable for a few hours, be back in time for the evening feed.”

You gave him a tight smile and opened the gate, closing it behind you, the signal clear: he stayed on that side of it.

“Thanks,” you said. “For walkin’ me.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, no problem.”

He watched you head up your walk and, before he could stop himself, called out.

“I have a guitar.”

You stopped and turned, frowning.

“What?”

“If you ever wanted to try playin’ again,” he said. “I have a guitar, you can come by… Borrow it. If you want.”

Your face lit up at that.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Anytime you want. Just… just come by.”

You nodded.

“Thanks,” you smiled, a little wider that time. “I might do that. Night, Joel.”

He took a long look at you.

“Night, Bambi.”

Next Chapter

A/N: Joel just might have a bit of a crush here and Bambi might just be less freaked out by Joel than she is everyone else in town.

Hey, progress!

I do have a taglist but Tumblr is making it a mess so whether it works is questionable. HOWEVER I will add you if you ask in the comments below :) Whether it works or not is up to the Tumblr Gods.

Thank you so much for being here! I appreciate you taking the time to read this and for following along with Joel and Bambi's journey. It means the world. Love you!!

Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust@ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost@beccerjune@mumma-moonchild@netonetoneto@mellymbee@purplelye@n7cje@flugazi@evyiione@randomhoex@aliengirl99@orcasoul@reds-ramblings@pedropascalsbbg @fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x oc #yearling #tlou fanfiction

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mlmxreader · 24 days

Text

05/04 onwards prompts

side note: this prompt list is only for requests to be sent to @mlmxreader , please do not use for your own writing or your own inspiration, thank you.

rules: you can mix & match as always!! multiple prompts can be sent at a time!! there's 30 in each (90 in total), so there should be plenty!

RULES & GUIDELINES

misc dialogue

“I did it exactly the way you liked it”

“Call it off!”

“Either you get out of my face, or you kiss me”

“Look, I can keep you safe here”

“Didn’t I promise to always be there?”

“Look me in the eyes and tell me that it meant nothing”

“Did you mean what you said?”

“Please tell me you found something”

“Just ignore the bloody phone”

“Seemed like your kinda thing”

“Bite your fucking tongue or I will cut it out”

“Are you sure that this is what you want?”

“Sit down. We need to talk about whatever the fuck this is between us”

“Easy, easy! Calm down!”

“Can you, erm, can you stay the night? I don’t… I don’t wanna be alone”

“I trust you - it’s everybody else I don’t trust”

“We can’t unring this bell”

“Isn’t that what you always wanted?”

“So, what’d you wanna do?”

“Stop biting your lip like that”

“Are you trying to make me jealous?” “Maybe”

“I just need to hear you say that this - me - is what you want”

“You said you couldn’t stay.” “It’s different”

“Don’t leave me again”

“Do not fucking scare me like that!”

“C’mon, it ain’t all bad”

“Not even a good luck kiss?”

“We can do this together, if that’s what you want”

“What’s the matter with you? You’re all… distant and shit”

“Sucks, don’t it?”

rules & guidelines

LYRICS

Orville Peck: Dead Of Night, Winds Change, Turn To Hate, Queen Of The Rodeo, Kansas (Remembers Me Now)

Judas Priest: Breaking The Law, Grinder, United, You Don’t Have To Be Old To Be Wise

“You're right by my side”

“You wake me up, you say it's time to ride”

“I don't mean no lies, baby, please don't lose it”

“From the way that we said goodbye, I knew I'd never see you again”

“Don't leave, don't cry”

“You're just another boy caught in the rye”

“Tell me you can't wait”

“Tell me you can stay”

“You rode on in with nowhere else to go”

“You know the tune so the words don't matter”

“Beyond this town lies a life much sadder”

“Babe, I know”

“Come and lay down your shoulder”

“Tomorrow isn't that far”

“Just know you were always my star”

“All inside it's so frustrating as I drift from town to town”

“Feel as though nobody cares if I live or die”

“I've had every promise broken, there's anger in my heart”

“You don't know what it's like, you don't have a clue”

“That's why I won't get caught”

“I need room to breathe”

“I take my leave”

“They're moving in”

“Hold your ground”

“We can do it”

“So keep it up”

“Don't give in”

“Let's get one thing straight”

“I'll choose my fate”

“And it's got nothing to do with you”

rules & guidelines

FILMS

Horror: JAWS (1975), The Silence of the Lambs (1991), The Thing (1982), The Wolf Man (1941), Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1931)

“You yell shark, and we got a panic on our hands on the fourth of July”

“It wasn’t any propeller, it wasn’t any coral reef, and it wasn’t any Jack the Ripper - it was a shark”

“This guy, he keeps swimming around in place until the food goes down”

“Smile, you son of a bitch”

“But are you strong enough to point that high-powered perception at yourself? What about it? Why don’t you - why don’t you look at yourself and write down what you see? Or maybe you’re afraid to”

“I know you gentlemen have been through a lot, but when you find the time, I’d rather not spend the rest of this winter tied to this fucking couch!”

“Yeah, fuck you, too!”

“You gotta be fuckin’ kidding”

“I dunno what the hell’s in there, but it’s weird and pissed off whatever it is”

“You’re gonna have to sleep sometime.” “I’m a real light sleeper”

“Now I’ll show you what I already know”

“The generator’s gone.” “Any way we can fix it?” “It’s gone”

“Poor baby, you’re starting to lose it”

“There’s a storm hitting us in about six hours. We’re going to find out who’s who”

“The way you walked was thorny, through no fault of your own, but as the rain enters the soil, the river enters the sea, so tears run to a predestined end”

“Frightened, of what?” “Of the night.” “Rubbish. You startled me.”

“A werewolf can only be killed by a silver bullet, or a silver knife...or a stick with a silver handle”

“I tell you, I killed a wolf! A plain, ordinary wolf!”

“It isn't a wolf... it's a werewolf!”

“Were you hurrying back to the castle? Did you have a moment's doubt? Were you hurrying to make sure he's all right?”

“Now you asked me if I believe a man can become a wolf. If you mean "Can it take on the physical traits of an animal?" No, it's fantastic.”

“Just imagine having a stuffed werewolf staring at you from the wall!”

“Is this your walking stick?” “Why, yes. That's the stick I killed the wolf with.”

“Don't try to make me believe that I killed a man when I know that I killed a wolf!”

“There's something very tragic about that man... and I'm sure that nothing but harm will come to you through him.”

“It's not a horse's head. That's a wolf's head. Make a note of that”

“Whoever is bitten by a werewolf and lives becomes a werewolf himself.” “Ah, don't hand me that. You're just wasting your time.” “The wolf bit you, didn't he?” “Yeah. Yeah he did!”

“Perhaps you prefer a gentleman. One of those fine-mannered and honourable gentlemen. Those panting hypocrites”

“Forgotten it? Can a man dying of thirst forget water? And do you know what would happen to that thirst if it were to be denied water?”

“Gentlemen like me have to be very careful of what we do and say”

rules & guidelines

SONG FICS!

#do not use for your own thanks #this is ONLY for requests to be sent to me

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tomkaulitzssgirl · 8 months

Note

can you do tom kaulitz make up sex pls? thankuu

make up sex | TOM KAULITZ

possessive!tom domxsub dynamic angst+fluff (sorry for the previous mistakes, i corrected them)

“oh my god tom! again?! i’m sick of this!” you yelled at your boyfriend as he was in your bedroom’s bathroom, shirtless and only wearing baggy pants on. he had just come home from band rehearsal, complained that he was tired but still was about to shower so that he could go to a club with his band mates to “celebrate” the new album.

celebrate meant get total shitfaced and coming back home a drunk mess, if he came home. sometimes he stayed at bill’s directly and wouldn’t tell you, making you worry.

“what the fuck am i supposed to do y/n? stay home? i’m young, i wanna have fun!” tom raised his voice and threw his hands in the air as he looked at you. he didn’t think he was doing something wrong, he was just trying to have fun with his friends and nothing more. he didn’t understand why you kept on complaining about this.

“alright tom but you should think about me sometimes too!” you got up from the bed and walked to your closet.

tom left the bathroom and wrinkled his eyebrows, “what are you doing? and what do you mean think about you? i already do that.” you shook your head as you picked an outfit. you didn’t want to stay inside another night. another night spent alone.

“you should think that you have a girl and maybe going out every fucking night and leaving her alone isn’t that cute, right?” you turned around giving him a sarcastic smile before becoming serious again.

“you’re so dramatic, i don’t go out every night. what’s this really about? you’re jealous? you think i’d cheat on you?” he questioned you and grabbed your arm so he could turn you around but you slapped his hand away. you didn’t wanna be touched by him, not after his accuse. gasping at his words, you shook your head, you didn’t believe he would’ve said that.

“you know it’s not about it. i trust you tom, maybe i shouldn’t, but i do. maybe you’re projecting and you’re actually doing it that’s why it’s so easy for you to accuse me of thinking that. i just want to be with my boyfriend for one night! these past two weeks i have seen you i think four times. you always have time for others but not me! i’m not asking for much.” you finally let out all your feelings as tears began to form in your eyes. tom looked at you speechless. he didn’t know you were keeping all of that inside.

“but since you don’t care about me, i’m gonna go out with my friends as well.” you grabbed a short dress and began to walk to the bathroom but tom stopped you, placing himself infront of you.

“you ain’t going no-fucking-where without me.” there it was. the jealousy. and he had the guts to blame you.

“oh! now who’s the jealous one huh? see, you’re so selfish.” you squinted your eyes at him and tried to push him out of the way but it was to no use. he didn’t move one centimetre.

“i don’t give a shit, y/n. you will stay at home and then we will talk about this bullshit.” tom grabbed the dress from your hands and threw it on the floor.

“when? when you’ll come home drunk? or tomorrow morning when you’ll have an headache? also, i do what i want when i want, you don’t rule shit.” you spat out with venom and you were about to pick your dress up but tom pushed you to the wall forcefully, his hands on your hips, holding you tightly.

“oh really?” he tilted his head to the side, as his right hand grabbed your jaw, “i don’t rule shit? you sure about that?” you gulped down because of the way he was looking at you.

you couldn’t really tell what was going on in his mind but it wasn’t something holy. nonetheless you nodded, not wanting to back down so easily. “sure as hell.”

tom licked his lower lip and played with his piercing as he kept staring at you. you were trying so hard not to blush but your cheeks betrayed you, a crimson red painting them.

you looked away, breaking eye contact. this guy was too much for you to handle. he chuckled seeing you look down at the floor.

“that’s right. look down.” he loved seeing you so submissive and shy. he pushed you down by your shoulders, and you got on your knees.

tom began undoing his belt and threw it on the ground before undoing his zip, taking off his pants and remaining in his black boxers.

“now you’ll be a good girl and you’ll suck me off.” he ordered as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

you nodded and waited patiently as he took his member out, already erected and hard. you guessed he liked the power dynamic and the fact that you were so fragile.

you began licking his length up and down before taking him in your mouth. his hand went to your hair and grabbed it harshly as the other one grabbed the bed sheet.

“fuck. you’re doing so good.” he complimented you, something that made your stomach twirl in happiness. you just wanted to be a good girl for him.

tom kept moaning and moaning as your right hand touched his balls, adding pleasure to the one he was already feeling. suddenly he began throat fucking you, too eager to be inside you. tears steamed down your face and you gagged around his length as he went so fast.

soon he came in your mouth and you swallowed it all, making sure he knew by taking your tongue out and showing him.

tom grabbed you by you neck and kissed you harshly, making you stand up before pushing you against the wall for a second time.

his hands went down to your thighs and he raised you, your legs wrapping around his waist.

“good girl. so good for daddy.” he whispered over your neck as he sucked on your delicate skin.

“mmh, please tom. i want you inside of me.” you begged him, tilting your head to the side to give him space to mark you.

“should i fuck you though? you were a bad girl. i don’t think you deserve it.” he teased you, licking from your neck to your ear.

you whined and tugged on his hair, you were a mess, you just wanted to feel him deep inside you.

“please tom, i’ll be good i promise. please, please, please.” you cried out leaving kisses on his jaw.

tom chuckled lightly, he loved playing with you like this. “keep begging for me.”

“i said please! just fuck me tom!” you were now frustrated, you were already begging him so much.

he suddenly stopped kissing your neck and looked at you sternly, “did you forget who’s in charge here?”

you shook your head while biting your lower lip, “n-no. you are.”

“that’s right. so show me why i should fuck you since you’re being so bitchy.” he put you on the floor and walked to the bed again, laying down with his hands behind his head and his legs spread.

you didn’t know what to do. you stood there looking at him, your mouth almost watering at the sight. he looked so dominant and it made you feel like a dumb whore.

“so?” he asked getting impatient.

then something in your mind clicked. you smirked to yourself a little before turning around and beginning to take your shirt off, slowly and seductively, leaving on your red bra. you turned to face him again, seeing him swallowing as your thumbs grabbed the aim of your jeans skirt. you slowly took that off as well showing tom your red see-through panties.

you walked towards him and straddled his lap. he remained still, laying down and observing your every move.

your hips began moving on top of his bulge as you went down to kiss from his stomach to his V-line.

“please daddy…i need you.” you softly said on his skin, never stopping your back and forth movement. only that was making you moan, and tom could feel your wetness even above his boxers.

“or…” you said licking just above his pube.

tom forrowed his eyebrows, waiting for you to continue, “or?”

you locked eyes with him and after a moment you said, “or someone else could do it if you don’t want.”that was it.

that was all it took for him to grab you by your hips and throwing you on the bed, face down, ass up. he spanked you before ripping your panties, making you gasp.

“fucking whore. who can fuck you better than me?” he asked angrily as he entered you with all of strength.

you moaned out loud gripping the bed sheets.

“mh? answer me. who can fuck you better?” he grabbed your hair as he pounded into you.

you shook your head, “n-no one. only you.”

“that’s right. that’s fucking right. no one could touch you like i do…”, he got lower to your ear, “no one could make you feel as good as i do.”

you nodded at his words, knowing it was right. no one before tom made you cum. he was just the best you could ever had. your bodies were connected. you guys just clicked.

“i-i know daddy, i-i’m sorry.” you mumbled the few words that you could get out.

tom grabbed your hair again pushing you up, your back against his chest and his other hand around your neck. “look at you, struggling to speak. you’re fucking pathetic.”

those words were enough to send you to heaven and before you could even control it, you came.

“who told you to come?” he asked as his pace became faster. you were tired but he was still going and not only that, he decided to finger you, sending you into overstimulation.

soon enough you had your second orgasm and you both came, falling on the bed while panting.

tom immediately hugged you close to his chest, leaving a kiss on your forehead. you smiled at him but it dropped as soon as you remembered about your argument. tom noticed that and sighed.

“don’t think about it baby. i’m not going out. i’m staying with you. better yet, why don’t we go out? just us. on a date.” he started leaving kisses all over your face making you giggle in happiness as you nodded.

“i’m sorry for what i said. i know you want to have fun with your friends, i’m just scared our relationship will become boring if we don’t spend time together.” you didn’t want to be like those couples who stayed together just because it had become an habit. you wanted to share experience with him and make memories.

“it won’t baby, i’ll make sure we spend as much time as we can together. i promise. and i’m sorry as well for being an asshole.” he gave you a last peck on your lips making you laugh with his words.

“now go get dressed and let’s go on our date.”

#tokio hotel #tom kualitz x reader #tom kaulitz #tokiohotel #fanfiction #fanfic #imagine #writing #women writers

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iguessthisisanewobsession · 11 months

Text

It takes a mob pt. 9

First

Ao3

“So what color flowers do you think Marv would like to be buried with?”

Bill glanced to Ken as the kid made a loud squeal from his place on the counter. The diaper incident was still fresh in mind but for the moment the kid looked content to stay solid.

Ken played with Danny’s legs before continuing his musings,

“We could go traditional roses, but carnations might have a better meaning and shit.”

“I don’t know shit ‘bout flowers.” Bill grunted as he dumped a large mixing bowl of dough on to the table. “But I want his ass cremated, going to put him in an hourglass. Maybe he’ll finally will learn time and place.”

Me-Mah tutted as she measured and cut the portions.

“That child was never one to think things through.”

“It kept Danny out of the limelight, didn’t it?”

Me-mah snorted as she glanced over,

“But, at what cost boy?”

“A hell of an ass whoopin for the most part.”

A voice chimed in, and Bill felt some color leech from his face.

“Ayyyye, didn’t know you were scheduled to hop in Jay! What are you doin’ on this side of the front?”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Ken take a sudden dive to the floor with a loud thump.

Everyone paused for a second to look at the space the man once inhabited.

“…you good there Ken?”

Ken let out a wheeze as his head popped back into view.

“..Just some fractured dignity.”

“Riiight.. So, I heard you guys had quite a busy weekend, mind catching me up?”

“Well, I wouldn’t call it busy per se, but you know how- hey hey! Why don’t you not come over! you know what I’ll come over to you!”

Scrambling past the table tops Bill steered Jason back out the door onto the streets.

“You know I was actually going to ask Me-mah about a possible change in meal prep for next week, right?”

“And I can make sure she’s up to date and everything! No need for the higher ups to need to hand around you got your own projects to worry about!”

“Like the project you three have decided to take?”

“..I have no idea what you are talking about boss.”

Bill stumbled as Jason finally dug his heel as they came close to an alleyway opening.

“Now we can do this the easy way of the hard way Bill, and my night’s been headache inducing enough.”

With a gritted teeth, Bill trudged into the ally with little fanfare.

“So,”

Jason started through a puff of a cigarette,

“I would like to preface this talk with the fact that Marv will be fine. Some bruising and a concussion to match but no lasting damage as far as the doc is concerned.”

“Oh. That’s, good.”

“You don’t sound so sure of that.”

“No! It’s- it’s great that Marv is good an’ all but, this is the boss we’re talking about! That ain’t his usual M.O.”

Bill took off his hat and rubbed at his temple,

“I mean, I’ve seen the dude do a lot more for way less. No scarring? No disfigurement? Not even a broken nose??”

“And it was anyone else than it would’ve been so, but it’s Marv we’re talking about. The dumbass is the equivalent of a pittie in a sweater. Besides-“

Jay made a show of flicking the used bud into a puddle before shifting to face Bill and leaning a hip against the grimy wall.

“He had his gun in his holster, if he was trying shit, he would’ve went with that instead of a steel chair.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Home couldn’t come into view quick enough.

Unlocking the door, Bill dumped the bag in his arm before he made a b-line to the kitchen.

The kid had a set of lungs and was making it quite clear that he did not appreciate being hungry.

“It’s okay kid, let it out, good for the soul and all that.”

Bill started to bounce as the microwave warmed the key to his ears’ bliss. His mind couldn’t help but go back to his conversation with Jay in between Danny’s gasps of air.

“What’s the plan? Fling the kid from person to person? Playhouse until gets annoying and pass the kid around like a hot potato? I don’t think there’s a single person who went through foster that wouldn’t be able to tell you how that would work out.”

Gently, Bill removed the tot from his imprisonment before quickly scooping up the bottle and testing the heat on his wrist.

“Do you even know the first thing about babies? How to test their bottles temp and clean them? How about burping? What about Immunizations? Or are you flying by your coat tails? They need commitment!”

It didn’t take as second for Danny to latch on with a content hum.

The quiet bliss could’ve been heroin as far as Bill was concerned.

Making his way back to the fallen bags, he got a glance at the small library that had made its home on his floor.

“What the hell have I gotten myself into?”

He could do this, he got his GED last year, so Bill was used to studying. He just had a bit of a time crunch to catch up is all.

“I don’t know shit about kids..”

One of the first things Jay did as soon as they properly introduced him to Danny was drag both of them to Dr. Leslie for an evaluation.

Bill’s original estimate was quite off.

The kid was about four months old.

Reaching over for a dirty towel, Bill shifted Danny to his shoulder and gave him some pats.

He wasn’t above admitting that a lot of what he was told went over his head, but a relative bill of good health was good news as any.

He couldn’t help but let out a huff of laughter when he noticed the kid’s face.

“What? What’s with dat look? Am I really doing this wrong Al-“

The sound that came out of the kid had no right being that grotesque.

Danny face smoothed as Bill looked down in mild horror as he felt new weight on the back of the onesie.

“..that wasn’t a fart, was it?”

The beginning of another spell of crying kicked the henchmen into gear.

“Right! Bath! Shit, don’t got one those bath thingies- uuhhh… right! Sink time Dano.”

Slinging the bag onto his shoulder, Bill went back to the kitchen and turned on the faucet sending a silent thank you to the two idiots who finally went home.

There was a bit of hesitation before he snapped the kid’s buttons off.

“Babies are messy Bill; they piss and shit and throw up to hell and back because it’s the only thing they can really do. If you can’t handle that then you have no right-“

With a quick shake of his hand, Bill made quick work of the kid’s clothes and diaper before turning his head to the side letting out a small gag.

He’s handled men’s entrails falling out of their bodies better than this.

Checking the temperature, Bill held Danny so that his back was to the faucet and started to splashing handfuls onto the mess.

“I know I know, not the most conventual cleaning but we’re going to have to sort that out tomorrow.”

Steeling his nerves, Bill fished out the baby soap from the bag and got to work.

“The things I do for yah…”

One freshly scrubbed Danny looked up with a giggle as Bill meticulously worked to keep the soup from his eyes.

A new problem emerged as the impromptu bath was over. There wasn’t a clean towel nearby much to Bill’s dismay.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sudden clearing of his work schedule via text made Bill pause before he tossed his phone within reach.

Letting out a huff he placed Danny onto the makeshift changing table.

“‘You need an adjustment period’ and ‘Can’t have you working in the high risk now and blah blah-‘ The bosses are acting like I’m some transplant now because of you.”

His complaints were unanswered by his audience though a small squeal of laughter did tug a smile onto his face as he plopped the kid’s rump back onto the clean diaper.

“Yeah.. yeah, yuck it up. Just so you know, this is a once in a lifetime thing goin’ on, so don’t expect me to pull a Wayne an’ bring you back any siblings.”

Dawn was breaking as close is ever did in the city. The early commuters were starting their day and he bit back a yawn as he continued his work.

The two of them didn’t get to go back home until well past three. Both Jason and Dr. Leslie felt it consequential to give Bill a crash course in baby 101 and enough homework to reach his gills to boot.

Something that he was beginning to notice is that plans tend to not hold up when dealing with children.

Sure, Bill hasn’t got much range in experience with kids, but what plans he has made around Danny got shot through like a diamond store on a Saturday.

He planned to never have kids, and now that had one to take care of, he just planned to keep him clean and worry about everything else tomorrow but-

“Shit!”

Waving away the sudden cloud in his Face with a cough, Bill looked down at the scene in dismay.

What was once a perfectly clean skin was now powdered white up to a confused little chin.

“Come one Kid, up, up-“

Bill gently pulled them to a sitting position by the arms with snicker.

“We got the rest of our lives together kid.”

He started to try brush down the excess with a towel as he continued,

“Yeah, this ain’t goin’ to be easy, but hey, I’m in your corner for better or for worst.”

Scooping and wrapping up Danny in a bundle Bill took another glance around his apartment and tried not to grimace.

The kitchen window was patched over with some newspaper and tape and the carpet still had some questionable stains from the past.

As much as it sucked to admit, Bill knew his time here was limited.

A one-bedroom apartment was not good enough for a kid to grow up in.

The feeling a small hand brought him out of his musings.

“Bab bah.”

“You know that's very cute, but I just swaddled you for a reason. Phase you hand back under your blanket.”

With a gently poke Danny was once again fully engulfed.

“I’m going to have gray hairs by the time you learn to crawl, I can just feel it.”

That was another day’s concern, as for today.

“I think it’s time we go lay down for a bit. How’s that sound?”

With a small yawn from his companion, Bill eased into the couch and turned on the tv low with a sense of déjà vu.

‘If dad could see him now…’

And as he started to lose the battle with sleep a passing thought made him let out a small huff.

Maybe he’d give his old man a call, it’s not every day the family expands after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~

This has been an adventure. I started my tumblr page as a place to throw away my prompts so that someone else could get inspired and my brain wouldn’t hold onto them. I didn’t actually expect to not only use but finish one!

For all of you guys who’ve been following along on both tumblr and ao3, thank you.

Here’s to more stories to come!

#dp x dc #writing prompt #dc x dp #danny phantom #danny fenton #it takes a mob au #jason todd #there is going to be more on this au #but the main story is done!#please tell me your thoughts #it takes a mob

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morallyinept · 4 months

Text

A full transcribe of AGENT WHISKEY'S dialogue/lines from the film KINGSMAN: THE GOLDEN CIRCLE.

Includes full dialogue, and dialogue from any deleted/additional scenes available.

I've created this as a point of reference when writing for Pedro's characters, and I hope you find it useful. Even if you just want to read the dialogue. 🖤

FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO CHARACTERS DIALOGUE

☝🏻Dialogue has been fully transcribed by myself using reference to original scripts (if available), audio subtitles and using my own two ears. Therefore, mistakes can be made, however I have tried to be as fully accurate as I can. If you spot an obvious mistake, please kindly let me know. Where audio is not clear, I have marked with *inaudible* Scenes are separated for ease of reference.

FULL SCRIPT DIALOGUE:

Kid, looks like we’re hookin’ up with a chick at a rock concert. My favourite kind of mission.

I’m sending my jet to pick you up.

__________________

Well, that's the easy part, kid. Take a look in the glove box.

Goes on your finger. The surveillance tracker is in the tip. Apply light pressure for three seconds to release it.

__________________

I say we both make an approach. Whoever gets on best goes for it.

The hand is not a mucus membrane, Eggsy. Neither is the back. They teach you anything at Kingsman?

Our trackers are designed to enter in through the bloodstream, they circulate harmlessly providing full audio and GPS.

No, Eggsy, it ain’t.

Alright I’ll take first crack, watch and learn, buddy.

Miss, I beg your pardon. I don’t wanna pester you, but I just have to know. What time are you playing?

Oh damn it, now I feel like a fool. I just assumed a woman with your… charisma, well, she just had to be somebody.

No, it’s okay. I know you didn’t mean to make me feel like a dumbass, so I’ll let you make it up to me by letting me buy you a drink.

What are we doin’?

Tinder, what?

Be good, be cool.

__________________

Now, is that any way to welcome a visitor from out of town, Moonshine?

Well, pick him up.

Now, that is not what I call a Kentucky welcome.

Manners. Maketh. Man. Let me translate that for ya.

Hoo. I feel like a tornado in a trailer park.

__________________

You can’t make this personal, sir.

Poppy’s stock piles really could be anywhere.

You two need to fix this code name thing. And with all due respect, sir. I don’t think Galahad Senior is ready to return to work.

It’s a lasso.

Yes, sir.

__________________

Hold up, we need ya down here, Galahad. Secure the control room.

I’ll cover.

Galahad we’re coming! All clear at the bottom? Galahad, come in!

Shit.

Shit!

__________________

Let me have a look?

Get down!

Fuck you! I just saved your life!

Alright. They're going for cover and reloadin’. I’ll fix their wagons. Cover me, boys!

Thank fuckin’ Christ I didn’t need any back up!

I’m out of ammo. Troop carrier coming in. What d’ya got?

What is this? Looks like you packed for a fuckin’ slumber party, not a mission.

Hey! Butterfly guy! It don’t look like Ginger fixed you right.

I said I’m empty. Gimme yours!

__________________

Hello gorgeous! I’m Jack, what’s your name? How would you like to ride home on a real cowboy? I got a six pack of cold ones on ice and my roomie's out all night, so you can scream my name as loud as you need to, sugar!

Who’s this pretty lady?

Ginger. Goddamn Butterfly guy shot me in the fuckin’ head!

Well I’m guessin’ you didn’t fix him right! Where the hell is he?

Eggsy’s gonna need back up.

Get the Silver Pony on the runway and ready to take off!

__________________

So. Don’t move, kid. You try anything funny and I turn this thing electric.

Now, give up your guns, fellas. Slide ‘em over.

Nope. My brain’s all good, kid. And you know what? I reckon the same is true for your friend Harry over here. Real fine instincts, I’ll give him that. But you stay still or I’ll dice him up so small you can take him home in a bucket and still have room for what's left of your buddy Merlin.

That ashole? Hahaha. Hell no. It’s a matter of personal principle, agent. No more drug users and the Statesman share price rockets.

Do you wanna know who was innocent? My highschool sweetheart. Love of my life. Pregnant with my little boy. He’d be about your age now. If his momma hadn’t got caught in the crossfire when two meth head freaks decided to rob a fuckin’ convinience store. A world without those people in it? Sure smells like peace to me.

You break the law. You pay the price. Good riddance. To all of them.

That’s why I gotta destroy that case. Now slide it over, Agent Galahad.

Thank you.

__________________

FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO CHARACTERS DIALOGUE

#agent whiskey #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #PPCU #agent whiskey kingsman #kingsman the golden circle #agent whiskey jack daniels #jack daniels kingsman #agent whiskey dialogue

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wyrmswears · 14 days

Note

Hiii!

I know the au ain’t about Jay, but does he have an animal form? How did Edd & Eddna found him or he does not exist?

I do apologize for the amount of questions not being libber related😞

Pd. I also love wolf children i imagine Libby just recreating the feral Yuki scene right?

Hellooooo!! Had to think about this for a bit; I really didn't give Jay too much mind when making this AU lol. Nonetheless, I really enjoyed getting to flesh out this AU further using your questions so thank you so much for asking! :D I made the AU for Libber and Ice but it's always fun to expand on other characters and how the changes the AU makes affects them.

This post turned out longer than I expected (oops. I love infodumping about my AUs, sorry lol) so the answers in their entirety are under the cut! Spoilers for Prime Empire and Dragons Rising (though nothing particularly about s2) are mentioned though.

The short answers are: Jay is still adopted, Libber left him at the Walkers' doorstep before dying. And yes, Jay has a wolf form like Libber does, but he can't access it until after the Merge.

The long answers:

The second question is easy - the comic on my other post initially had a third page that would've answered this but I found it difficult to get to flow well so I scrapped it. When the Walkers arrive home after coming across Libber, they find Jay on their doorstep. The idea is that she had left him at a safe place as a final act before succumbing to whatever killed her. (Much like in Wolf Children, I don't have a particular cause of death thought out.) Ed and Edna don't make the connection between the child on their doorstep and the wolf on the highway of course, because why would they?

As for whether Jay has an animal form... On one hand I find it very amusing when characters of non-human heritage turn out to be just normal humans, and Cliff Gordon is still completely human in this AU, but I also think it'd be boring to ignore his heritage completely for the sake of the bit. After mulling it over I've come up with this:

Jay grows up showing quirks that align with him being half raijū, but nothing that can't be explained by him being the elemental master of lightning or just a peculiar (and probably neurodivergent) child; these are things like a fascination of thunderstorms, abnormal resistance towards electrical shocks, hyperactivity, a tendency to chew on things...

He has no idea that his biological mother wasn't human until after the events of Prime Empire when Wu, now aware that Jay knows he's adopted as he used it to reason with Unagami, requests to speak to Jay privately. He explains that, if Jay has an animal form then he shouldn't feel like he has to hide it from the team as he is sure that they'd accept him, much like Libber's teammates accepted her. This is sweet and all, but Jay is very confused what he means about having an animal form. And thus begins the explanation of who or what exactly Libber was.

After learning that he isn't completely human, Jay isn't really upset - hell, Zane and Lloyd have both dealt with the same thing and it turned out fine - but he only talks about it with Nya. This is part of my general characterisation of Jay where I feel like he doesn't keep too many deliberate secrets, but does only mention certain things about himself on a need-to-know basis meaning that, while he doesn't care if the team knows he's adopted, only Nya, Zane, and Pixal know that he is (Zane and Pixal for being present at the end of Prime Empire). Nya 'needs to know' because she is his yang thank you very much. Nya helps him to research about raijū and they find out that they can come in a variety of forms. Jay thinks he'd look like a noble and mighty creature, maybe a lion or an eagle. Nya thinks he'd be a chihuahua.

Nonetheless, that seems to be the extent of it; Jay doesn't figure out if he has an animal form or how to use it, and all that's changed is that Nya has become a lot more aware of her yin's oddities. That is, until Dragons Rising.

I think after the Merge, Jay has no issues with accessing his animal form: much like his mother, he's a wolf-like canid. If you told him, he'd probably never believe that he had spent the first 20-or-so years of his life with no clue to his heritage and no abilities related to it when his natural state of self after getting amnesia is to flux between forms. Maybe it developed as one of the strange effects of the Merge, or maybe its a new ability as a result of his environment, much akin to Cole's rock golem. Nonetheless, it serves as a message to Nya that this isn't the same Jay she knew before the Merge. He flaunts his heritage to the team that he never told and has changed, both physically and as a person, without her there to see.

As for the P.S, I'm not entirely sure what scene you are talking about - there's quite a few where I imagine Yuki could be described as feral lol - but Libber is overall quite alike to Yuki in my mind, particularly when she is younger and less concerned with hiding her wolf side.

#maybe ill draw jays raijū form at some point too hm #ninjago #ninjago au #lego ninjago #ninjago jay #jay walker #ninjago libber #libber gordon #ninjago spoilers #? i dont know if we are still counting the fact that jay has amnesia as a spoiler or not. i feel like everyone knows by now #ok time to come up with an au tag because uhh i do that when i make more than one post for an au #inhuman thundersnow au #thundersnow will now be the duo name for ice and libber youre welcome #wyrm answers #wyrm rambles #btw idk if anyone reads my tags but art will be slower for a couple months because i have my big scary important exams upcoming #i will happily answers asks though :]

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strawberrykake · 2 years

Text

His Super Reliable Manager

Kuroo, Osamu, Oikawa, Bokuto || manager!reader

warnings: jealous bfs, lowkey suggestive (mainly Osamu’s)

notes: requested, another long scenario(s) glhf

As manager, you’re one of the most reliable people on team

They would go to ask you for anything or help with some things

Your captain bf was used to it…kinda

Kuroo would start to notice some things that he’s never noticed before you started dating

Like helping them into their jackets, assisting with injuries, helping with their shoelaces (bc you’re pretty good at tying them), aiding them in anything

Your bf would pretend not to care

Because it’s what you do, right?

Right.

But of course, one day he was watching as you dabbed some cream on Lev’s hand before placing a bandaid on it

“Make sure to change the bandaid after a shower, or if it gets dirty or wet,” you say with your arms on your hips.

“Thanks, [y/n]-san! Where can I find this…uh…” Lev tries to remember the name of the cream you used on his hand.

“Neosporin,” you answer.

Suddenly two large arms hug you from behind.

You immediately knew who it was because of the familiar skin tone and scent

“As long as your not allergic to neomycin sulfate, bactitracin zinc, or polymyxin B sulfate,” he says, resting his chin on your shoulder.

Lev’s head spins at the jumble of words thrown at him

You freeze, turning your head to him

“Hi?” You greet him in a how-can-i-help-you manner.

“Hey.” He smiles and gives you a lingering kiss on the lips.

Right. In. Front. Of. Everyone.

Right in front of everyone!!!

The most affection you’ve shown in public together was merely a peck on the cheek.

(Not that he mind PDA with you.) It was your idea to minimize the intimacy in public.

Lev takes that as his queue to walk away

“Tetsurou, what are you doing?” You turn around to face him.

“What, I can’t kiss my lover?” He has his hold still on you as he leans down to give you another kiss.

But you push away, whispering, “Not now, everyone’s watching us.”

He smirks.

“So?”

You blush heavily, pulling away from him as he chuckles.

Now whenever you’d be seen getting a little too handsy (to Kuroo’s liking) with another team member, he’d pop out of nowhere

Like *poof* and start getting all flirty and intimate

Basically stealing your attention from them

You becoming manager was the best thing that ever happened to him since you’ve both started dating

Because now you have a reason to be on the court with him

And it meant spending more time together

But it’s also the worst thing ever

Because your job is to also make sure the rest of the teammates are in their best form

And that means…doing exactly what you are doing right now:

You squeeze Suna’s shoulder joint, trying to find the painful area that he’s been complaining about

“Here?”

“No,” he says.

You lower your hand and press again.

“Ow!” He yelps. “Yep, right there,” he says groaning.

Ain’t no way, Osamu thinks to himself

He’s been watching you the whole time

His jaw clenches really hard seeing you with your hands on Suna’s shoulders, the middle blocker holding a pack of ice in his lap.

“Okay, leave the ice there.” You help the middle blocker lift the pack of frozen contents near his right arm. “Rest a bit.”

You both don’t think much about it until Osamu shows up

“Soooo, what’s going on here?” Your boyfriend doesn’t hide his emotions, sending a tired look to his teammate.

Suna scoots farther away from you on the seat, noticing your proximity.

“Suna might not play today,” you say, standing up.

“Sorry, bro,” the fox-eyed boy apologizes.

You don’t realize the apology was also for something else.

There is a shared glance between the guys that you don’t catch.

Osamu gives a sigh.

“Take it easy, Suna.” The tall middle blocker nods to him.

With that, Osamu takes your hand and brings you to the side where there’s less people

“Samu, need something?” You ask, wondering if there was something wrong.

He glances at you with no words

“You?” he says after a moment of silence.

Oh, boy.

Osamu isn’t one to be super flirtatious

But these moments usually occur when he’s 1) done something wrong, 2) jealous, 4) just in the mood to be

“Samu, I don’t have time for this. The others need some help.”

You guessed jealousy based on the way he is now clinging on to you as you tried to walk back to the rest of the team

He circles his arms around you, pulling you into a hug.

“Just a little longer, yeah? ‘Need ya.”

You hug back, placing your face in his chest to hide your blush

His chest vibrates as he lets out a chuckle.

“Sorry, I’m kinda sweaty.”

You don’t really care, and neither does he

But!

You have work to do

“‘Kay Samu. We got to go back.” you pull away before giving him a peck on the cheek.

“Don’t worry. We can continue this later,” you whisper in his ear.

And that makes him behave for the rest of the day for sureee!!!

After a hard, long day of practice

The boys of Aoba Johsai go through the same routine

changing back into their comfy clothing, refreshing themselves

However, some guys had been pushing themselves way too hard, injuring their hands

Being the responsible, reliable manager you are, you quickly bring out the first aid kit and tend to their wounds

You sigh as you wrap the bandage around Kyoutani’s bruised finger.

“You gotta be careful Kyou-kun.” The aggressive wing-spiker grunts as a reply.

what the fuck?? Oikawa side-eyes you both from a distance, pretending to drink water.

Oikawa’s ears and eyes are aimed towards your direction. He can’t help but scowl at the sight of you touching another guy’s hands, especially like that

He stares daggers at the back of their heads.

Feeling chills, they turn their head around to see Oikawa, whose expression abruptly changes into an innocent, friendly smile.

But they know their captain too well. Hidden beneath the smile is pure evil, perhaps planning their demise if they keep clutching onto your hand like that.

As you move on to tend to the next person, Kindaichi, you notice the shallot-haired boy hesitate, looking a bit anxious.

“What’s wrong Kindaichi?”

Oikawa stares intensely at the 1st year. And the poor lad seemed to notice.

“Ah, i-it’s nothing. I can do it myself!” He attempts to take the medical tools.

“Oh, Kindaichi-kun, don’t kid yourself! Please, let me!” you say with a reassuring smile, wanting to be a supportive agent to the team.

The dude opens his mouth and closes it as if trying to say something

Before he could say a word, your bf suddenly appears out of nowhere, approaching you

“Babe, what about me?” He slings an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close.

“Oh, are you injured?” You ask, immediately searching his hands for any signs of injury.

There weren’t any, surprisingly.

“Yeah, but only a kiss would make it better,” he leans forward and pouts pointing at his lip.

It makes the rest of the guys walk off to give you guys space to flirt talk

His words make you roll your eyes.

“Tooru, not now. We need to fix their wounds.”

“Do you have to?” he says with a pitiful voice.

“It’s my job. I’m the manager?”

“You’ve done so much today, though. Here, relax.” He takes the bandages and creams from your hands and places them back in the small bin. “The boys can do it themselves. They’re big boy now, see?”

Kindaichi is seen struggling to wrap the bandages on his fingers before stomping over to his companion, Kunimi

They’ve grown accustomed to your help that they’ve depended so much on you

It makes your heart warm, thinking about the fact that you truly have a place in this team

But of course, now that you’re dating Oikawa, you’d run into these little situations where he’d start acting up

Making excuses so that you’d put your attention to him instead

However, you knew exactly how to put him in his place

By giving him exactly what he wants

“Here, gimme your hand, babe.” You motion towards his hands.

He raises an eyebrow, giving you his hand, palm faced down.

You bring his fingers to your lips, kissing each tip

“Better?” You ask.

His eyes gaze at you with a foggy look in his eyes, as if daydreaming.

“Tooru.”

He shakes his head as you call him back to reality.

“Yeah, yeah! It’s better.”

“Good.” You place a hand on his shoulder. “Now, can I go do my job?”

“Y-yes.”

You smirk, trying not to laugh at his suddenly changed demeanor.

He’s not sure why you got your hand wrapped around the ankle of one of his teammates

His eyebrows scrunch in confusion, watching you from a distance

As manager, you’ve always been helpful in many situations

But this was definitely a new situation to him

He’s never seen you get this handsy with another person

He absolutely hates it.

Konoha sat on the bench with you squatted on the ground, inspecting his hurt leg

Konoha yelps when you press a certain spot.

“Ah, there it is,” you say, chuckling as you gently apply the ice pack on the wing spiker’s shin.

Before you could say anything else to the injured player, two large arms scoop you up

Bokuto literally picks you up, making you squeal

“Get your own manager, Konoha!!!” He shouts as he pulls you away in his arms, bridal style

Konoha merely sighs as he watches you get carried away by your burly bf

Here we go again

“Kou! you need to let me—”

“No!” His grip on you is strong as he walks to a bench much farther from everyone else.

Finally reaching his destination, he sits down with you in his lap.

“Hehe,” he smirks, watching his team, sticking his tongue out at them.

They don’t seem fazed at all, used to his antics.

“Koutarou, what are you doing? We’re leaving soon. I need to help gather some things.” You try to squirm your way out of his arms but he just tightens his hold.

“Wait, wait—”

“Kou,” you say his name sternly.

You explain your role and duties as the manager

And how it is essential to be in their best form if they want to go in the “main arena” that he always dreamed about

“Fine,” he says, cowering. His eyes lower to the ground, creating pitiful look on his face.

You give him a light kiss on the cheek. Then another on his lips, surprising him.

“Who’s the most handsome, strong ace in the world?” You ask, booping his nose with a finger

He gives a weak smile. “Me.”

“My favorite person in the world?” You pinch his cheek.

Bokuto’s smile grows, his owl hair no longer drooping. “Me?”

“That’s right. And whose boyfriend?” Your smile is reflected on his face.

“Yours.”

“You know it.”

He giggles, before leaning in for another kiss from you to which you gladly obliged.

“Alright, time to go,” you say after pulling away.

You slide from his lap and take his hand to walk with you

But he stands still, tugging on your hand.

“Wait, let me carry you back.” Your bf leans down with his back facing you. “Hop on.”

You laugh at his request.

“Okay, babe.” You drop on his back, your limbs clutching onto him.

Bokuto chuckles and carries you piggy-back style back to the team, definitely in a better mood

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towine · 8 months

Text

[flowerfang] get us right

i'm late!!! for flowerfang week happening over on twitter! but i had this little idea for the day 2 sfw prompt "first kiss." just something silly i banged out really quickly. do not think about it 2 hard

“Miles, stop freaking out,” Miguel says.

“I’m not freaking out, you’re freaking out. Why would I be freaking out? Ain’t no reason to be freaking out, right, I just got poisoned by an alien wizard and I’m gonna die because you knocked the alien wizard out before he could give us a cure after he sprayed purple powder in my face and now my skin is turning purple oh my god Miguel I’m turning purple what do we do—”

“LYLA,” Miguel says, turning away from Miles’s meltdown. “Tell me you got something from the biometric scans.”

“Looks like a strain of pollen from a plant native to Earth-31,” LYLA says. “The effects of consumption include asphyxiation within five minutes.”

“What?” Miles wails. “Oh no no no no—”

“Can we craft an antidote?” Miguel demands.

“Already sent the lab order. But there’s no time, boss—the kid’s freaking out and it’s making the toxin spread faster. At this rate, he’ll asphyxiate before you can get him to HQ.”

Miguel whips around to look at Miles. Miles has his hands buried in his hair, continuing to babble about dying from space pollen and how he’ll fail his calculus class because he’ll be too dead to take the test on Thursday.

“Miles,” Miguel says, grabbing Miles by the shoulders. “You need to calm down.”

“Calm down? How am I supposed to calm down?” Miles fights against Miguel’s hold. His eyes dart around in a panic, his breathing hard and fast.

“You’re hyperventilating. You need to stop.”

“I can’t—” Miles squeezes his eyes shut. “I can’t stop.”

“Yes you can. You have to.”

“I know I have to, that doesn’t mean I can suddenly do it!” Miles’s inhales have turned thinner, shakier. Not good.

“The antidote is synthesizing back at HQ, boss,” LYLA says, “but it doesn’t mean anything if you can’t get him there on time.”

Miles is still breathing too fast, mouth parted, bottom lip trembling.

“Shit,” Miguel curses.

He does the only thing he can think of.

He yanks Miles forward into a kiss.

There’s no grace to it, no pleasure. It’s a life or death kind of kiss, like CPR. This is what Miguel tells himself when he feels Miles’s breathing stutter, feels him tremble beneath his hands. Their mouths are pressed together harshly, awkwardly, but it forces Miles to breathe through his nose and slow the pace of his inhales.

And then, all at once, Miles relaxes. He turns to outright putty in Miguel’s hands, and that— Miguel really shouldn’t think about what that means.

Miles’s mouth moves against his, soft and tentative. It’s instinctive for Miguel to follow him and deepen the kiss. It’s easy. Miles is so pliant, so ready to receive.

Miguel snaps back to reality.

He pulls away.

Miles leans in after him, dazedly following his mouth. Then he stops, realizing what just happened.

Neither of them say anything.

LYLA clears her non-existent throat.

“Antidote’s ready at the lab,” she says, with a smug tone Miguel does not appreciate.

“Great,” Miguel says, voice rough. “And the toxin?”

“Has slowed its spread now that Miles is no longer going into a panic attack. Nice work, Miguel.”

“Don’t mention it,” Miguel mutters, jabbing the coordinates for Nueva York into his watch. “And I really mean that.”

The trip back to HQ is made in dead silence. The portal spits them out in the lab, where Miguel gets a syringe of the prepared antidote and injects Miles in the shoulder, through the suit. Miles doesn’t say a word the whole time. He keeps avoiding Miguel’s eyes.

But the alarming purple color that was crawling over his skin fades away, leaving Miles’s normal skin tone. So that’s… good.

“Looks like you’re clear,” Miguel says. He tosses the syringe into a biohazard bin. “How do you feel? Still freaking out?”

Miles scoffs. “No,” he mumbles. He rolls his shoulders, touches a hand to his throat. “I feel okay, I think.”

“You think?”

“I’m fine,” Miles amends annoyedly, and now he’s starting to sound a little more like himself. “Thanks. And thanks for…” He waves a hand in a vague motion, and his expression turns flustered.

Miguel sighs and drags a hand through his hair. “Look—we don’t have to talk about it. I did it to make you stop hyperventilating, it was a spur of the moment thing. The point is, you didn’t die, and now you’re cured.”

“Right,” Miles says slowly. His lip is bitten between his teeth. He still hasn’t walked away.

Miguel’s next words come out awkwardly, stilted and ill-fitting in his mouth. “I’m… sorry if I made you… uncomfortable. It wasn’t my intention.”

“No, that’s not—!” Miles finally looks up and meets his gaze. His cheeks are dark with a blush. “You didn’t. Not at all. I just, uh.”

A pause. And then Miguel gets it.

“That was your first time kissing someone,” he says numbly.

Miles winces and looks away, his blush worsening.

“Fuck,” Miguel mutters, covering his face with one hand. “I’m sorry, Miles. That’s—”

“Hey, no, don’t do that.”

A hand comes to touch Miguel’s wrist and ease it away from his face.

Miles’s brow is furrowed, his lips pursed in an expression Miguel knows. It’s the one Miles gets when he’s going to argue with Miguel because he knows in his heart what’s right. It’s the one he gets when he’s told something is impossible only for him to do it anyway. It’s the one he gets when he’s about to take a leap of faith—not the absence of fear, but acting in spite of it.

“I don’t want you to be sorry,” Miles says. He’s still blushing. He’s a vision.

Miguel says, “Then what do you want?”

Miles swallows. “Maybe we could… do it again? Without the panic attack this time. Second time’s the charm, or whatever.”

Miguel huffs. But he’s reaching out to curl a hand over the nape of Miles’s neck. “That’s not how the saying goes.”

“It is in my universe.”

Miguel rolls his eyes. Miles is grinning.

“If you’re done,” Miguel says, “I’m going to kiss you now.”

He leans in. Miles moves to meet him.

He’s right, it turns out—second time’s the charm. Or whatever.

#flowerfang #miguel x miles #miguiles #caiwrites #flowerfangweek0923

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mollymauk-teafleak · 19 days

Text

oh the times that we believed

More of the fantastic @minky-for-short's human Huskerdust painter and muse au! A bit of plot motived hurt/comfort!

Please reblog and comment over on Ao3 if you enjoyed this!

cw: abuse, sex work, it's Angel Dust working for Valentino and all that implies in canon

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

Angel wondered when he’d start believing the things Husker told him.

Some things he didn’t believe and wasn’t supposed to. Husk’s stories from his ragged upbringing on the Strip were clearly bright, shiny pearls formed around small grains of some truth, given to be admired and enjoyed, even if it was artificial. Husk would launch into tales of impossible, artful cons, victories snatched at the last moment thanks to a card up the sleeve, run-ins with the mob where Husk’s life hinged on a dice roll and a mad dash on stage to blend into a big band.

When he told Angel these stories with obvious delight when the younger man laughed until he cried, gasped at just the right moments, hung on his every word, it was like sitting with a younger version of Husk. He’d see the great showman his lover could have been if he’d had quieter demons and more certain luck, the dreams he’d once had that still clung to him, a jacket he’d outgrown a long time ago. Angel couldn’t quite believe any of those stories but that wasn’t the point of a magic show, was it?

It wasn’t those stories that Angel struggled to believe. It wasn’t anything big, really. All the languages Husker could speak, the achingly beautiful art he made, the places he’d been that Angel only knew as names in a book. All that he could swallow easily, he didn’t doubt that he’d found something special in Husk, a man made of dizzying highs and crashing lows and interesting stories, like an antique store in paint-stained shirtsleeves.

The problem wasn’t the big things. It was the little things Husk said that Angel didn’t know how to believe, small handfuls of words he whispered gently or scattered like handfuls of seeds, almost unaware of the blooms they’d grow into inside Angel’s mind.

I remembered those were your favorite flowers. I just worried you might be cold. I wanted to let you sleep, I know how tired you are. We can take a break. I’ve got you. I’m here. I won’t leave.

I love you.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to?”

Angel sighed internally and added it to the list, wishing Husk’s love was as easy to believe in as his lies.

“What do you mean?” he murmured, the question he really wanted to ask but shrunk down small.

“Well…” Husk’s gaze was knowing, though he didn’t mean that as an attack the way most people in Angel’s life did, he didn’t want to know so he could hurt, “You’ve been sitting in that robe for half an hour now, Legs?”

It was news to Angel, though he wasn’t surprised. Time had always been something slippery to him, running through his fingers like water when other people could grasp it and be sure of it. He’d been prone to black outs when he was a child, snatches of time he wouldn’t be able to recall afterwards, only bruises in the shape of his father’s fists and his sister’s fruitless tears to show him what had happened while he was gone. He’d started escaping into them as a young man, using chemicals to open the doors to oblivion, again relying on souvenirs to piece together the story afterwards when it was safe. When it could almost be something that happened to someone else.

And now, brain still slick and foggy from the night before, he wasn’t surprised that he slipped away, not wanting to think about what was going to happen when he took off the robe, when Husk saw what was underneath.

What did surprise him was Husk’s offer.

“But I’m supposed to sit for you today,” Angel’s fingers toyed with the cheap fake fur that edges his robe, worn flat and matted from how long he’d clung to it as his comfort blanket, “Val ain’t paying you to paint me with my clothes on.”

“And if I gave a rat’s ass what Valentino thought, you wouldn’t spend more time in my bed than you do in front of my easel,” Husk pointed out with a wry smile, coming to sit beside him on the sagging old couch in the corner of the studio.

“I’m coming,” Angel insisted, though his voice was wearing so thin the lie showed through, “I’m just tired. Had a late night, that’s all.”

Angel didn’t know who he was kidding, trying to fool a man who’d grown up on the Strip speaking fluent bullshit, who could see the way his hands were trembling, the way he only pulled his robe tighter around him. But Husk didn’t seem angry or even irritated by the feeble attempt, just studying Angel with a careful, warm gaze.

“There doesn’t need to be a reason,” his voice was gentle too, light, willing to play along and pretend this was just going to be a regular day, “If you don’t feel like it, you don’t feel like it.”

“You know what my job is, right?” Angel gave a bitter laugh, staring at his hands, trying to force them to relax and not look so desperate, “You know what my life is?”

“Baby,” that broke Husk’s voice a little, the sadness welling up in the cracks, “You ain’t at the club right now. You’re with me, you’re safe here.”

Another thing Angel didn’t know how to believe, another thing to toss into the chasm between what he wanted and what he could do.

“When are you gonna get sick of trying to convince me?” the words slipped out of Angel, past his better judgment, taking advantage of his bone deep exhaustion and clouded mind, “When are you gonna get tired of saying this shit to me and it not making a difference?”

There was a moment of quiet or at least as quiet as this part of the city got, down to just the riot of horns and curses from the street outside. Angel’s stomach went into a sickening freefall, leaving him burning with self hatred. He never could have anything good in his life without bending it to see when it would break, so he could cut his hands on the jagged edges and tell himself the pain had been inevitable, that he’d been right to expect the worst, that he didn’t have to change because the outcome would always be the same.

“Can I touch you, baby? That okay?”

Angel jumped like a gun had gone off by his ear, the nod shaken out of him before he could think whether it was smart to be honest right now.

Words were hollow at best and weapons at worst but something about the solid presence of Husk’s hand on his shoulder was more certain, something he could trust in. It hurt, of course it did, there was nowhere under his robe where it wouldn’t, but Angel kept it off his face. He knew it would hurt far worse if Husk took it away.

“Short answer, Angel? Never,” each word came slowly, like he was checking it over to make sure it was right before putting it in place on the end of his tongue, “Do I wish things were different, yeah, of course I do. I wish you’d never been hurt the way you have, I wish the idea of me loving you and caring about you wasn’t new. But, fuck, I don’t blame you for that, how could I? It ain’t your fault.”

“It isn’t my fault that Valentino has a contract with my name on it?” Angel took a sharp, ragged breath, whipping around to face him, “I was a junkie long before I met him, Husk. My life was well and truly fucked before he decided to make a profit off it. I signed my body over to him and I meant it, how is that not my fault?”

“Because you trusted him back then,” Husk’s voice grew firm, roots digging deep and refusing to bend under Angel’s attempt to wrench it up, “And I know I’m asking you to do the same for me, telling you I won’t hurt you when that’s all anyone’s ever done. Believe me, the asking don’t come easy either. Before you walked into my studio, I was ready to just drink my way to hell and be done with it. Believing I deserve you, that I got any right to tell you I love you…it’s hard.”

For a wild moment, Angel wished he had two sets of arms, one for the part of himself that burned to shove Husk away, one for the part that ached to pull him close, “So why do it? Why try when it’s so hard it feels…impossible?”

“Because you’re worth it.”

Husk said it so plainly, without hesitation, like he was telling Angel the sky was blue, that water was wet. Like he just knew.

Angel had never had any use for faith, his nonna and his sister had tried to convince him but when he looked at the stained glass, his eyes were always drawn to the snake coiled around the tree, the twisted shapes with horns and claws more than the pure, perfect saints with their palms upturned to the light. Even when he’d been too young to know himself, he had known that when the priest spoke about temptation and deviance and sin, he was talking about Angel. Those were the first words he learned to describe himself and that kind of shame never fully went away.

But when Angel looked at Husk, he saw something in his eyes that could only be faith. Belief for its own sake, belief because it filled a space inside him, because it felt good when so many other things felt bad.

“So I’ll never get tired of telling you I love you, baby,” Husk murmured, “I’ll never get tired of telling you you’re safe here. Whether you believe me or not, it’s true and it’ll always be true.”

“Husk…” tears blurred his vision but he still felt that gaze, anchoring him in place.

He didn’t have the words to finish that sentence, he didn’t know what to call the emotions thrumming in his chest, scared that if he looked too closely they’d crack and fall away. Instead he shrugged out of the robe, letting it turn into a faux silk puddle around his hips, letting Husk see what he’d been hiding from him, why he hadn’t been able to imagine showing him before.

Husk’s voice was strangled, like something was gripping his throat, something not outside but inside, “Angel. Fuck, what did he do to you…”

The bruises had looked bad that morning when he’d dragged himself upright, showering and dressing quickly so he didn’t have to see them, only feel them, but Angel knew they’d look worse now. Husk’s expression, the tremor in his voice, told him enough.

“Apparently some big shot was in the club last night,” Angel’s voice was flat, distant, echoing oddly in his ears like it was someone else speaking, “Someone Valentino wanted to impress. I was headlining like usual but I fell, went down hard. No way to recover.”

He lifted one shoulder, a more misshapen, more natural bruise throbbing like it knew he was talking about it.

“Val was furious,” he closed his eyes against the memory of flashing eyes and bared teeth, smoke pouring out with every curse and cutting word like there was a fire inside his mouth, “I was in for a beating anyway but then…then I made it worse. I told him I’d slipped because my hands were shaking. I wasn’t gonna tell him why, I’d said too damn much already but…but he made me tell him.”

“Tell him what?” Husk prompted gently, not demanding, just giving him permission to say it. Just promising him he’d be heard.

“That it was the shakes. That it was because I ain’t had a hit in…a week?”

It sounded such a small thing to say it out loud, a pathetic, scrambling first step up a mountain that stretched into the clouds. Seven days, seven hard, painful, blinding days, felt like nothing to boast about, a child holding up a shiny candy wrapper and calling it treasure. Sitting here, all Angel could think was how seven days wasn’t worth a beating, not when he was just going to fall off the wagon at any moment.

But Husk’s voice was awed, a tone that would make Angel think of the colorful prayer candles and brightly painted wooden rosary beads in his nonna’s little closet, the place where she carefully tucked her faith and her home away, keeping it safe from their family’s darkness.

“That’s incredible, baby,” he murmured, finding Angel’s hand and holding tight, “I mean, I’m sorry that asshole flew off the handle but, fuck, I’m proud of you.”

Angel gave a dry, bitter laugh but he held on just as tight, “Don’t get used to it, can’t promise it’s gonna last.”

“Don’t matter,” Husk’s voice was as firm as his grip, keeping Angel anchored, “I’m proud of you either way. For doing it and for telling me, for letting me see. I know what it costs you.”

The smile came easily, easier than it had any right to when he was sitting here wearing nothing but the streaks of tears and blooming bruises, “No more than you’re worth, Husk…sorry, I ain’t gonna make a pretty picture today.”

Husk paused a moment before a light flickered in his eyes, a light that took years off him, that turned him into the main character from those impossible bullshit stories.

“Well…I’m sure as fuck not lifting a finger for Valentino today, except to give him a taste of his own medicine,” his eyes slid over to his cluttered workbench, deeply stained with turpentine and oil paints, old whiskey jugs and jam jars filled with water in half a hundred swirling colours, “But I still feel like painting. Work with me here, Legs…”

Angel watched in bemusement as Husk began loading the coffee table with half crushed tubes of paint, watercolor palettes that had wept half of their pigments away, his most delicate brushes. He navigated the chaos of his studio almost without thinking, always knowing what he needed and where to find it, even if he never put it down in the same place twice.

“The hell are you doing, handsome?” Angel tilted his head, putting his arm out when Husk gestured, without even thinking because he just didn’t need to.

“Trying something new,” Husk sat beside him, dipping a feather light brush into water, then pressing it to a square of dusty pink paint until the horsehair drank the color, until it looked like a flower bud, “Call it inspiration.”

“Like I’m your muse?” Angel flashed him a grin, knowing Husk thought his gold tooth was hot.

“Like you’re the love of my life,” Husk gently touched the tip of the brush to his skin, “Let me know if it hurts…”

It didn’t, the brush was as delicate and gentle as Husk’s own fingers, like it really was an extension of him. A few strokes and that bud bloomed into an orchid on Angel’s skin, with a burn scar in the center. Suddenly it wasn’t where Valentino had pressed the smoldering end of his cigarette to wrench the confession out of him, it was something beautiful.

“It won’t last forever,” Husk murmured, eyes holding Angel’s, “But neither will the hurt. Either way you’re beautiful and either way, I love you.”

“I love you too,” Angel’s voice trembled along with his hands, making the orchid dance as if in some breeze, “Can you do more of them?”

Husk raised his knuckles to his lips, “Fields of flowers. A galaxy’s worth of stars. Moons and suns and whatever the hell else you want, baby. I can’t give you much but I can paint you the universe.”

“I’ll take whatever you’ve got,” Angel laid his head against Husk’s shoulder.

He said it wasn't much but to Angel, it felt like everything.

Every scar, every bite, every bruise was given something beautiful. Some got flowers until Angel was wearing a necklace of them, some became clouds in a sky that began as daylight at his fingertips and ended at night by his shoulder, with every color in between. Dragons curled around some, guarding them fiercely, planets orbited around others and made them the core of distant solar systems.

Husk painted almost without thinking, like he was letting whatever he felt for Angel spill out through his brush, giving him a hundred other stories than the ones the bruises told. He made him a fae prince with garters of wisteria on his thighs and serpents curled around his wrists, a young god with the world in his palm, a literal angel with a folded pair of gorgeous wings on his back. He was right, they wouldn’t last, but Angel knew he’d always remember. Nothing was going to take this from him.

And while he painted, almost as great a gift as the escapes he was offering, Husk listened. He seemed to know which scars to ask about and which to let lie, which ones to frame and which ones to cover. Angel told him about the jagged slash on his back, the bullet that had whizzed overhead while he crouched behind a bar in France, after the drag show he’d been performing in went to shit when an enemy soldier felt the knife strapped to his thigh. He told Husk about the pinhole scar on his ear from his very first, very stupid attempt to pierce them, the one that had ended with his sister bending him over the sink and holding her favorite scarf to his ear until the bleeding stopped. He showed him the bump in his nose, where he’d fallen on his face, smack bang into the sidewalk, right off his very first pair of high heels.

Husk might have been a showman once upon a time but he’d clearly spent a lot of time in audiences too. His laugh was a smoky wheeze, like an accordion with a hole in the bellows, and he used it at just the right moments. He asked the right questions, he groaned and gasped and chortled and made Angel feel as though he was standing on a stage, bringing the house down. And all while he wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing, with Husk crawling all over him to paint his chest, his back, down to his ass and between his thighs. It tasted like relief, to be naked but not offered up, to be exposed but not sexualised, touched but not grabbed. He loved when Husk fucked him, of course he did, but it was nice to know it didn’t have to be an inevitability, something to make him feel more powerful rather than powerless.

Angel didn’t think there was an end to his scars but, by the time the sky outside was bleeding orange, he was standing in front of Husk’s dusty mirror, a completed work of art. Every mark on his skin, from his childhood to last night, was decorated and adorned and loved. He would cry but he didn’t want his tears to ruin the sets of bright, golden eyes Husk had painted on his cheeks.

Instead he choked out, “Thank you…fuck, Husk, thank you so much…”

Husk wiped smudges in half a hundred colors off his hands, eyes warm and admiring, “Should be me thanking you, baby. You let me help.”

“Now that I don’t believe,” Angel reached out and snagged his collar, pulling him into the frame of the mirror so he could look at himself and Husk at the same time.

“Listen…there was something else I wanted to give you, not that you need to take it,” Husk’s voice softened, eyes ducking and an honest to God blush darkening his cheeks, “You tell me if I’m being an old fool here…”

Angel paused, watching his lover’s expression in the mirror, struck with the sudden sense that the ground was about to shift beneath his feet.

“Ever since you introduced me to your friend, Charlie?” Husk cleared his throat, suddenly sounding like he was reading from a prepared speech, “She commissioned me for a couple paintings of her girl, the mean eyed one.”

“Vaggie?” Angel chuckled, “Yeah, she said she was going to. She’s a generous girl, huh? A toff but she’s nice about it.”

“Real fucking generous. I ain’t had pricetags like that since before I blew it all,” Husk admitted with a small, almost disbelieving laugh, “But…it got me thinking. Between what I’m getting from that asshole Valentino and your friend…well, your contract with the club has to have a price attached, right?”

Angel’s heart sank with the bitter, shameful taste of a dream he’d been a fool to believe in, “Yeah. It was a fortune when I first signed it and it’s only gotten bigger every year. Val finds any excuse to add to it, room and board, make up, costumes, the fucking drugs. When I was younger, I thought maybe one day…but it’s impossible.”

“Not for me.”

The reflection wasn’t enough anymore, Angel turned and looked at Husk, jaw slack, eyes wide, “What?”

“I could give you the money to buy your contract out from under that creep,” Husk’s voice steeled, a fierce determination bolstering it, “Then you wouldn’t have to live with him, you wouldn’t have to work at his whorehouse calling itself a nightclub. You’d be able to get clean, you could find a new job or, hell, you could still strip but it would be on your terms. And he wouldn’t be able to say shit. And…you could leave the city. Get away from all this.”

Husk’s voice stumbled at the end, the words clearly paining him but he said them anyway, not flinching from Angel’s gaze.

It was a fantasy, an impossibility, like the things he’d painted on Angel’s skin. And in spite of himself and the life he’d lived, in spite of every second that had come before this one, all Angel could do was ask for more.

“Or?” he prompted, his voice a whisper like it was scared to be heard.

Dawn broke in Husk’s smile, “Or…I buy the apartment above my tiny, shitty studio. It’s also tiny and shitty but it’s got enough room for two people. You move in, I succeed in pulling my career out of the gutter and give you the chance to build a life you actually like. I make you coffee and flapjacks every morning, you make me your nonna’s recipes, we go out dancing, I drag you to art museums, you make me go to the ball game. And…and I guess we live happily ever after?”

“I guess,” Angel smiled, feeling his heart crack open, all the hope he’d been so scared of rushing in, “I want that, Husk. God, that’s all I want.”

“Then let’s go get it, baby,” Husk drew him close, his embrace smudging the paint but it didn’t matter, this dream meant more.

Maybe it was just a daydream. Maybe it was one of those stories too fantastical to really believe, the work of a Vegas showman, a beautiful con, the throw of a dice. Maybe it was another escape into oblivion, an idea that would melt away like a high. Maybe it would fade into a scar or blur like paint under a thumb.

But Angel didn’t care. If it did fall apart, the way everything had before, he’d still say this feeling had been worth it.

Angel realized now, he didn’t have to wait until he started believing the things Husk told him. He had to choose to believe in them.

That's what made it faith.

#hazbin hotel #huskerdust #huskerdust painter au #hazbin angel dust #hazbin husk #husker #angel dust #please reblog and comment

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cultofdixon · 1 year

Text

Knowing Enough for Her

Daryl Dixon [PLATONIC] • She/Her Pronouns • Dixon’s Little Sister!Reader / Mute!Reader • Hints of Caryl • If you asked Merle, he thinks you’re mute because of the shit you witness your dad do to your brothers. Daryl thinks you’ve always been that way, which is correct. Honestly, you didn’t mind it. Even in the end of the world…but some moments made you wish you could just scream off the top of your lungs your frustrations • ANGST/SFW • TW: Injuries / Canon Violence / Anxiety Attacks / Abuse

Requested by: Anon

“The cop is gettin’ frustrated with y’all” Merle makes the comment quick to draw his siblings’ attentions toward Shane who was arguing with Dale about letting them into their group.

“You sure it ain’t your bitchass?” Daryl snaps at Merle who gave him an eye roll as a response. He felt Y/N tug on his shirt for his attention as she started to sign toward him.

Shane scoffs pinching the bridge of his nose. “If she’s deaf, she can cause problems. Kill herself maybe”

“Shane I wouldn’t—-“

“What? Bring a bunch of rednecks and a disable into our group?” Shane turned toward the group once again but up close was Y/N as she suddenly socks the cop in the face knocking him on the ground.

The cop stumbles to the ground making the man he was talking to step back. Dale quickly looks at Y/N seeing the rage radiate off of her person as he held his hands up in surrender.

“Okay. Not deaf. I’m just gonna assume and say mute?” He tilts his head with a questioning look waiting for Y/N to inevitably nod as her tense composure relaxed. “Alright. Now that that’s clarified, we’d love to have yea. Uhm. Just…leave him down there” he states directing them toward their camp as Merle approaches the cop who was stunned on the ground while his siblings went head.

“I wouldn’t fuck with my sis, pig” Merle laughs picking up the pace to catch up with them.

So you’re gonna go on this dangerous run into the town? Could it be a ploy to get rid of you? Y/N frowns signing to Merle as he couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him to that last part.

“They wouldn’t survive if they tried to kill me”

“Can’t hold it against them” Daryl scoffs. “Watch your back, man. We may hate you too but—“ Y/N smacked Daryl in the chest. “Your family. We want yea back in one piece”

I can go with him Y/N states to Daryl as he shakes his head. He’ll be safer with another one of us

I don’t give a flying fuck. Merle is a big boy he’ll be fine Daryl frowns signing to his sister who grew frustrated instantly. “You’re staying here”

“Y’all know I know sign right?”

Everyone is listening Y/N points with her eyes to the few that would watch them talk with sign language and when they got noticed, they’d turn away. This shit isn’t foreign.

Don’t get feisty. I will be fine, kid Merle scoffs, still awful with his signing but it was enough for Y/N to understand. “Yer gonna go on the hunt with Daryl. I’m going on the Atlanta run. Nothing can go wrong”

Then of course, Merle didn’t come back. But another cop did.

Y/N watches her brother go off on the poor guy after he had just reunited with his wife and son. She watches as Shane turns toward her looking for her to stop Daryl’s outburst toward his best friend Rick. But if she could speak, she’d expose what she sees in the trees.

“Stop your brother!”

The youngest Dixon met him with silence but that didn’t mean she didn’t have a plan.

Shane groans as the situation started to escalate and before either cops could get a hand on Daryl. Y/N suddenly came forward and pinched a nerve to make her brother instantly drop to avoid him landing a shot with his knife.

“Thank you” Rick thanks Y/N as she nods before going to Dale writing in the air knowing that would tell him to get her something to write with.

It took some time to get Daryl to calm down as he was now mad at his sister for what she did. Y/N wrote on the pad of paper with Rick and Shane on either side of her.

Is Merle dead?

“No, just chained to a roof”

Is it easy to get there?

“Also no, Atlanta is infested with the dead that we can’t risk going back in there”

“But I can find us a way” Glenn chimes in getting two concerning looks and Y/N’s curious one. “We have to plan this out though.”

“If that’s the case we can also grab the weapons I left behind” Rick adds only for Lori to protest the possibility of actually losing her husband.

Daryl finally calmed down enough to join the planning process as Y/N taps him giving him a concerning look.

If they won’t help us, we’ll do this ourselves Y/N signs but Daryl’s facial expression gave away to the rest of what she told him.

“What’d she say?”

“I’ll agree with her. We’ll take care of it ourselves if yea don’t—-“

“Nah. We ain’t risking lives. If there’s a way? We’ll do it.” Rick insisted and left to talk to Lori about such.

Once it came time to preparing to leave, Y/N got in the hull of the truck with Daryl as she had her axe strapped to her back watching Rick and Shane talk.

You think he’ll tell his friend?

“Nah. Hell I wouldn’t if I did” Daryl scoffs only for his sister to smack him. Why do you care?

We act on emotions. No one really uses their brain anymore. Y/N frowns. Merle must’ve asked for a death wish. Dumb bitch acts more than thinks

He better be okay Daryl frowns signing that last bit as Y/N takes his hand into hers.

But not finding Merle was just the start. Then the outbreak in the camp. And it continued going down hill…

After helping her drunk brother to their room, Y/N went back to the common room of the CDC hearing Shane’s voice and the heat in such toward who she can only assume to be Lori. Even if the girl had no booze in her system, she had to help a friend out.

Before Shane could even lay a hand on Lori is when the door suddenly flew open and Y/N stumbles forward to the couch. She gave out short laughs or what sounds like puffs of air that could mimic such.

“She had a bit too much” Shane rolls his eyes as Lori shoved him away from her before helping Y/N by wrapping her arm around her shoulders. “We were talking”

“I’m taking care of her” Lori’s glares shot like daggers through his chest as she directs Y/N out of the room.

Once the two were alone in the hallway for a short moment, Y/N straightens herself out which confused Lori but she watches her face grow in concern resting a hand on her arm.

“Am I okay?” Lori asks watching her nod as she couldn’t be happier that she had someone who cared for her, even without knowing everything in its entirety. “I’m good. Thanks to you”

Y/N smiles warmly. Good she signs seeing the confusion grow but given what Lori just said.

“Good?” Lori smiles as she nods happily before making sure she got back to her room with her family.

When the CDC was a blow, literally, and the group was a back on the road. Y/N was in the car with Lori, Carl, Carol, and Sophia as she started to teach the kids a few signs with the same pad and pen given to her from Dale. The four started to get the hang of it, the moms more than the kids.

Especially when Y/N signed to Carol that she was going to go look for her daughter. Even if she ended up finding her brother injured along the way. To add more to his state, the two standing close to one another looking like undead blobs in a crosshair to an idiot who’s never shot a hunting rifle before.

“Y/N, we’ve got him” Rick reassures holding him up gesturing for Shane to help hold him up on the other side in place of Y/N.

Clearly the guys helping never “heard” a mute person before but still felt awful listening to Y/N’s crying as it sounded more painful than a regular cry.

“He’ll be okay” Glenn reassures hugging the girl as she watches Dale and Andrea run over to the group which lead to him getting pushed and Y/N rushing Andrea.

“Jesus Christ!” Dale freaks out when Y/N tackled Andrea down to the dirt, pinning her down and not taking any hits on the woman. “Y/N she didn’t mean to”

Y/N just stared at Andrea ignoring Dale and given the ones not carrying Daryl weren’t breaking the two up. They knew she was trying to teach Andrea something but it was never going to get through to her.

A few hours went by and Carol came into the room Daryl was resting in with dinner for him and to thank him for looking for her daughter. But to add…

“Your sister went back out there. Followed your footsteps…more carefully…to figure out more. But given you found something of Sophia’s. You both are doing so much for me that I don’t want you to risk yourself”

“No one should feel that pain of losing somebody…”

“Then don’t let Y/N feel such. I like her” Carol smiles kissing the archer’s temple before leaving the room.

Everything seems to escalate in the apocalypse. Sophia had met her fate too soon, Carol was heartbroken and Daryl was frustrated. Y/N knew not to get in the middle of Daryl’s outburst but he knew that she’d give him a new one to hurt a grieving mother’s feelings even further.

But his frustration turned when Hershel went missing, because so did Y/N.

The Dixon brothers can be idiots for acting on their emotions before even thinking. But their sister knows to think ahead.

Ahead being the attack on the bar that held Rick, Hershel, and Glenn. When Glenn went ahead and Rick thought he was shot, he quickly ran to his friend finding Y/N had pulled him out of the way just in time.

“How did we not see hear you coming?” Rick laughs relieved as she shrugs with a smile before pointing in the direction she was going to help give them a window of escape.

That act lead to Rick and Glenn finally gaining an interest in learning to sign. But that had to wait for their return with a hostage that didn’t really give anything useful except reveal that Shane was more psycho then they thought. And the farm was just as temporary as the CDC.

House hopping gave them time to learn more signing and for Y/N to grow close with everyone left. So the pain she endured when Lori died broke Daryl watching her sob. He didn’t hesitate to help in that split second as he and Maggie left to get formula and other necessities that’ll benefit the baby that was later named Judith.

“You stick close”

You be safe

Daryl nods continuing to follow the group into Woodbury with Y/N covering their backs. Saving Glenn and Maggie lead to be difficult especially when the one that hurt Glenn was their own blood.

Y/N had managed to get out of getting caught up in the trouble her brothers were now facing. But she helped Maggie and Rick get them out of there, even if the two were only trying to get Daryl out of there.

We can’t have him come back with us

He risked himself to help Daryl. Merle isn’t the same man you met back at Atlanta Y/N sighs at Rick who wasn’t going to have someone who worked for the enemy in their space.

Y/N. Think about the baby. We can’t have the Governor knocking on our door Rick frowns signing back as he really didn’t want to argue with Y/N about this.

He also knows what we are signing. Y/N crosses her arms as Rick turns to Merle who was only growing more annoyed. Ain’t good at it. But still. Regardless. He’s family

“HE CAN GET US KILLED” Rick suddenly yells at Y/N shocking all of them and without a second she shouted back. Sounding strangulated but it made it clear that he made a mistake yelling at her.

“Holy shit” Merle scoffs surprised that even came out of Y/N and in regards for him in that matter. “Look. I can help y’all take down Woodbury if shit ever hit the fan. Hell I can even be chained outside like a dog if it means—-“

“We don’t want you there” Glenn frowns still frustrated with what Merle did. Maggie held his arm keeping close and still worried about his injuries.

“Then…we’ll leave” Daryl states not letting any protests from the others who don’t want the good Dixons to leave.

Yet that didn’t last long and Merle could’ve seen it coming a mile away…but part of him was relieved they didn’t stick with him and he wasn’t going to let his family get hurt.

Even though the world keeps taking and Daryl came back to the prison with dried tears and horrible news to Y/N who could already know by the look in his eyes. She turned to Rick with tears in her eyes as she couldn’t even think of the words to say before looking at her feet then signing.

He has to pay.

And he did. The prison then got an infusion of the Woodbury folk and they started to make the place more of a home.

“I’m gonna go huntin’, wanna come or busy?” Daryl knew she was busy given his sister was currently holding baby Judith and listening to her soft coos that she happily expressed.

Don’t forget to check the snares Y/N signs with her focus still on the little baby but before he left her cell she tapped the metal bars to get his attention. Ask Carol to join you she signs with a smirk that was met with a scoff from her older brother.

“Your sister is in love with that baby”

“She’s always wanted to be a mom” Daryl lead the way to track down the rabbit he spotted tracks for with Carol happily joining him.

“But she doesn’t cuz she’s mute? That stops someone?”

“Stops her but Judith fills that void and I ain’t taking that away from her” Daryl knelt down by a snare handing Carol his crossbow for a second to untie the rabbit that was caught. “Make that stew of yours?”

“Let’s find another and then I’ll make your favorite” Carol smiles watching the heat meet the tip of his ears. “I’ll make it for you regardless of how many you get me”

“Hey uh” Daryl straightens up putting the rabbit in the bag. “Maybe we can do the late watch together instead of switchin’ off?”

Carol couldn’t help the excitement to rise in her chest as she nods with that signature smile of hers.

“Then hurry up Pookie.”

The good days were limited, when Carol disappeared and the illness took out a good handful of people with it’s hell and the undead’s involvement. Daryl knew Y/N took care of herself and was taking care of Judith, Carl, and Beth when the illness came through. Protecting them. Even if she didn’t get sick, she was the first person he had to check on once the medicine got into their people.

Carol will come back Y/N reassures with a smile as Daryl brought his arm around her shoulders bringing her in.

“Can I be honest?” Daryl frowns as she nods. “I don’t have a good feeling…”

There seems to be a pattern. The good then bad then good again. But next was bad and the Governor’s comeback was that.

As Daryl got Beth out of the prison hoping Y/N made it out safe, his anxiety was relieved when she ran into the two right before Beth was taken. Y/N felt awful as if everything happening to them was her fault…guess she shares that with Daryl. The silence between the two grew worse when they came in contact with the Claimers. Y/N didn’t want to sign in case any of them knew but by the looks of them, she really could’ve whenever she had a suspicion. But she thought Shane was insensitive toward her…this group was worse

Daryl woke one night with the Claimers to hear Y/N struggling. He was about to get up and knock the lights out of the guy when he was stopped. No leader in sight meant, they were going against his agreement of not laying a hand on her if he did whatever was asked.

“Stop! You’re hurting her”

“Just trying to get words outta her man” One of them laughs crushing her hand which only resulted in more screaming. “Wow she’s real good with no begging to stop”

“Yknow” Len, the one giving Daryl the most trouble, approaches and took her other hand into his. “We gotta go hard” then suddenly a loud crack was audible as he broke not one, but two of her fingers. Making Daryl break loose from one’s grasp and shoving the other into the guy to avoid being grabbed again as he grabbed Len.

Len was instantly tossed to the ground right as Daryl socked the other Claimer in the face finally letting go of Y/N as she knelt to the ground feeling her hands shake trying to get a look through the blur that her tears caused. But all she saw was bent out of place blobs and felt all the unbearable pain that made her scream for the rest of the night.

Which lead to Len’s death the next morning, done by Joe without a second thought. Daryl, bloody and bruised, took the tape he had to buddy tape her broken fingers after snapping them into place as it only brought more pain. He got a good look of the other hand as they were more of the cutting and brushing type with the other. Daryl watched as her hands shake but he couldn’t hold them to comfort her…that would only cause more pain. He took his rag out wrapping the other hand the best he could even if her tears continued to fall.

“They’ll pay” Daryl whispers only for Y/N to bonk her head against his causing a wince from him and his eyes to lock onto hers. “We gotta find the others quick”

Quick came but lead to another fight and Rick killing the one threatening him and the one trying to have his way with Carl. While Michonne takes out her handler and Y/N held her axe with the one hand with no broken fingers, taking out the one that dared lay a finger on her brother then the siblings took out the last two.

As morning came and Rick was talking about going to this Terminus to see if it’s actually safe or not what it is. He was going to ask Y/N if she’s seen any of their own before meeting with Daryl when he noticed what the Claimers had done.

“Fuckers…”

“You’re just gonna have to do all the talking” Daryl states, checking how bad the bruising was on her arms after taking a few hits during their fight on the road. “It’s a safe bet headin’ to this sanctuary”

“Maybe we’ll find the others”

Hopefully Y/N thought blinking away more tears as she sat on the ground for a bit given they’ve all been through hell. A few more minutes didn’t hurt anyone.

The group got to following the tracks to this Terminus and Daryl couldn’t help but check in on his sister even if it was met with tired and pained expressions. He knew what she meant by them.

When they reached Terminus, Daryl instructed Y/N to keep an eye out in case anything goes south. He doesn’t want to risk her life in there. But she was going to anyway.

Y/N heard the gun shots and right as she was about to head inside, the relief that washed over her when Carol met up with her. She couldn’t be happier to devise something to help get their family out of there.

“Who the fuck are—-“ the gunshot cut the guy off as did Rick stabbing the drift wood in the neck of the other one.

Rick sighs thankful seeing Y/N helping them get out of there as she helped let loose the others with her knife. Daryl instantly brought her face into his hands making sure they didn’t lay a hand on her but she smiled in that second to reassure him.

Finally their group got outside of that hell, with new members as well. Daryl didn’t hesitate to hug Carol when they spotted the other in the woods. Y/N watches the two smiling warmly.

Soon the group was pieced together…with a few missing pieces along the way…the good. Then the bad…this should be the good part now?

“Y/N”

Y/N looks up at her brother confused seeing his usual worried expression burden him.

“Please. Please give me somethin’ that’ll confirm this will be alright”

The youngest Dixon knew the words wouldn’t come out in any way to communicate to him, so all she did was take his hand squeezing it with the strength she had left.

Then the gates opened to Alexandria…

The good.

#cultofdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #PLATONIC #caryl #hints of it at least #daryl dixon fanfiction

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sadhours · 1 month

Text

scumbag blues • battery acid

gator tillman x f!original character

previous chapter • masterlist

cw: 18+minors dni, unsolicited dick pics/videos, mean texts, drinking, kind of smut??? Gator tries

Daisy’s depressed. She’s been turning away clients left and right. The money from Roy keeps the bills paid but it’s tighter than before and her pops has noticed. Says something about it when Daisy’s cooking him lunch.

“I don’t know why things have taken such a turn, Daisy,” he sounds stressed. “We haven’t had a single guest in two weeks.”

“It’ll turn back around,” she assures him, “always does.”

Her mothers voice rings in her ears. Same mantra about how women have to take care of things. How women have a magic money maker between their legs and they’d be fools not to take advantage.

Her phone vibrates in her pocket, she pulls it out and looks down at the notification. Gator. Hasn’t had the guts to block him like she should. She slides it open and is met with a photo of his cock. Hard as hell. He’s on his bed, she can see his cargos bunched up around his ankles and his combat boots. He’s sent You can’t quit me, baby along with the photo and she hates the way it ignites a flame in her stomach. She locks her phone and shoves it back in her pocket, resuming the can of tomato soup she’d been heating up. She wishes Gator would just give it up. There’s plenty of other women for sale in this county. But she knows he likes her. Their sexual chemistry is undeniable. And she’s certain Gator hasn’t been with any other woman. Yet, she doesn’t even know how many men she’s been with. It’s unfair. She can’t quit this. And that’s what Gator deserves, so she’ll have to quit him.

She butters up the bread for grilled cheeses, determined to get out of this funk and start taking clients again. Her mother would tell her she’s pathetic. Gator’s always been a client, he started out as such and it’d be laughable to think they could be more. It’s a god damn pipe dream and they both know it.

—

When Daisy reads his message but doesn’t respond, Gator gets furious but his cock is still hard. The arousal mixed with the anger facilitates in a bit of harassment on his end. He records himself jacking off, mumbles about how he knows she wants him. How she’s gonna watch it later and play with her pretty pussy. Which he fully believes. Records himself cumming, muttering, “Wish I was cumming in your tight hole, baby.”

Again, Daisy opens the messages and doesn’t respond. And now that Gator’s cock is softening, the anger takes over and he sends a handful of messages.

Whatever, bitch. Ur not even pretty. Just fucking easy.

Ur used up.

Probably should get tested. God knows ur fckn infected. Nasty slut.

Fuck u bitch

Then, Gator realizes these won’t help his case in any way so he sends another.

I’m sorry. Just miss u and I ain’t good at controlling my temper

The last message never delivers and Gator’s feeling like a pathetic loser with his cum drying on his stomach. Cleans himself up and grabs his keys. He needs to get as drunk as humanly possible. Fuck, he doesn’t care that it’s only noon. This pit of dread filling him needs to be released and alcohol can dull it. The Esquire Club opens at 10 am. He’ll be with like minded company. And well, if it’s two blocks from the Inn, that’s just a coincidence. He isn’t hoping that Daisy’ll wander in desperate for money. Definitely not.

The place is dead when he gets there aside from a couple of dudes rambling about sports. Gator doesn’t keep up with football anymore. Too bitter about high school. He would’ve been scouted, out of this shithole and never would’ve touched Daisy Way if that prick hadn’t busted his ankle. Swears if he ever sees that fucker again, he’ll kill him.

The hours drone on, Gator filling his belly with cheap whiskey and countless beers. Is absolutely stumbling around when the sun goes down. There’s girls in here tonight. Ones that know Gator’s the sheriff’s son, girls that touch his biceps and ask if he’s ever had to shoot anyone. He tells grandiose stories, fibbing on the extremities. Yeah, he sees a ton of action. Yeah, Gator’s a fucking badass. He’s a fucking winner.

He gets one of the girls in the bathroom, a brunette with heavy makeup and a short skirt. Has her leg propped up on the graffitied toilet. Limp dick in his hand as he tugs it, pleading internally for it to fill out but it just fucking won’t. He knows it’s the whiskey, his whole body is fucking numb. But he can’t help but think that if this were Daisy bent over for him, he’d be hard as a rock. It’s pathetic and it’s weird, but he grabs hold of the girl's hair and tugs her head back so he can grunt into her ear.

“You want me to fuck you, Daisy? Huh?” he laughs, “Want me to stretch you out so bad?”

“My names not Daisy?” the girl replies, confusion dripping in her voice.

“Shh,” he hisses, pulling on his cock and focusing on the fantasy, trying to will his dick to life. Nothing. He balls his fist up and slams it against the stall, “Fuck!”

He shoves his flaccid length back into his cargos and barrels out of there. Leaving the girl stunned and exposed. He’s a fucking loser. If he goes by the Inn, it’ll be pummeled into his head what a fucking loser he is. Somehow, he winds up at Faye’s apartment building. Hits the buzzer. Over and over until he hears her sleepy voice.

“Who is it?”

“Faye, it’s me— er,” he hiccups, “Gator. Can I come up?”

“Gator, it’s the middle of the night,” she sighs, “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Please,” he whines, hates how pathetic he sounds, “I have nowhere else to go. I won’t be fucking weird. Okay? I just… please, Faye.”

A beat of silence. Then the buzz and a green light. Gator tugs the door open and stumbles inside, looking down the hall until a door opens. Faye steps outside, rubbing her eyes and she’s wearing a long, flowy nightgown. She lets him inside and because of his intoxicated state, he clings onto her and fucking cries. Like the pathetic loser he is. But she wraps her arms around him.

“Gator, what happened?”

“I’m… I’m such a fucking loser,” he sobs, “I ruin everything.”

Faye squeezes him tighter, rubs his back soothingly. “Oh, Gator…”

She pulls back and puts her hands on his face, “I’m gonna make some tea. Sit on the couch and we’ll talk about it. Okay?”

She’s so good. So pure. So sweet. Gator hiccups and nods, moving to rub his fists against his teary eyes. Then he trudges to her living room, waiting for her to return.

#gator tillman #gator tillman smut #gator x daisy #gator tillman x original character

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