#Price always ends up tangled in their messes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

soap-ify · 5 months

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nsfw , minors dni .

okay but what if poly!141 with owner!price and hybrid pets!reader, ghost, gaz and soap

price adored his taskforce a lot. operating alongside powerful and trained dog hybrids was surely an experience, especially when he himself was just a human and the others treated him as if he was their owner. he started having a thing for it too, especially since ghost, gaz and soap were just so ruthless in the battlefield but with him? they were just some pups needy for his attention!

price thought that he didn't need anyone else other than his three beloveds, but that all changed when you came along.

you were recommended into the team by laswell herself — your reports are nothing short of outstanding and guess what? you also happened to be a hybrid. you were a great fit for the team.

you felt confused and anxious when you first met the whole team. price was more than welcoming, stern yet warm in his greeting as he introduced you to the others and went over the expectations. you were somewhat relieved to find hybrids like you — especially ones that were trained in similar harsh environments in order to be perfect for the military. humans seemed to either despise or fear hybrids — but price wasn't like them.

it didn't take you long to finally be aware of the dynamic they all had.

soap was the first one to be all comfortable and touchy with you amongst the other two hybrids. he was energetic and a menace, wagging his tail while he had trapped you beneath him, your gaze all confused and shy. "ye are such a sweet wee pup." he cooed, smothering your face up with kisses while simultaneously grinding his hips with yours. it wasn't long until you had started to hump against him too, feeling just so horny and warm, puppy ears twitching happily.

gaz had caught you and soap grinding against one another like some damn dogs in heat — which you guys technically were. he was all pouty and moody about the fact that you two were having all the fun without him. how cruel! he was quick to pounce onto the bed, grabbing your face and pulling you into a sweet kiss, eager to taste the adorable new pup in their team. he was more gentle than soap, but playful in his own way too, nipping on your sensitive puppy ears to watch your eyes glisten up with unshed tears while you were lost in this blissful tangled mess you were trapped in.

the night had ended with both of them rutting into you — gaz laying on his bed with you on top of his, his chest pressed against your back while his cock was nicely stretching your tight ass whereas soap was on top of you both, his cock ramming into your soaking cunt so desperately while his hands pawed at your tits through your shirt, both of the pups already so lovestruck by you, their cum dripping out of your holes.

ghost had always kept his distance from you ever since you had joined the taskforce about two months ago. you had started thinking that maybe he loathed you or something, but that all changed when you had sheepishly made your way to him in the middle of the night, visibly shaken up from an awful nightmare you had, your cheeks streaked with tears. you didn't even know why you had come to him out of the other two hybrids or even price. maybe because your room was the nearest to his. ghost would have initially kicked you out, but seeing this new pup so vulnerable pulled at the strings of his heart.

he had scooped you up in his big, strong arms and let your face nuzzle into his firm chest while you laid on top of him, soft sobs leaving your lips while you vented on and on about how the nightmares never stopped ever since you were initially rescued from the place where they tortured and trained the hybrids. a damaged pup just like him, he thought while his large hand gently rubbed the back of your head. your cries had slowly died down into soft sniffles, those teary eyes of yours gazing at his face so fondly — unmasked and fully bare for you. it was the first time he didn't bother putting a mask around you after all.

he had let you stay in his room for the night, his sweatpants lazily tugged down as his cock dragged in and out of your sweet tight cunt, his thumb playing with your clit to make you forget about all your troubles, your head nuzzled into the crook of his neck. he didn’t bother pulling out even when you had fallen asleep, relishing in the way your warm wet walls were wrapped around his shaft, unconsciously clenching.

price had waited until you were nice and comfortable with all his pups. of course he knew about the naughty little things you had been doing with the other three. and even though he had wanted it to happen, he didn’t let the opportunity of teasing you pass away.

he had you splayed on his lap, your mouth clumsily sucking on his cock while his large callused hand delivered firm slaps on the soft flesh of your ass, the sting causing your tail to flinch and straighten up while you whimpered around his cock, sobbing. “tsk, such a bad pet. getting stuffed with my pups’ cocks without me knowing?” he would huff some smoke out after taking another hit from his cigar.

he wasn’t a big meanie though! he kept caressing all the slap marks on your ass after he was done spanking you, his other hand giving you the head pats that you craved so badly from your owner, his cock still stuffed in your pretty mouth.

“be a good girl f’me, hm?”

you eagerly nodded, his hand pulling your head up from his cock to give you a kiss.

sometimes, price would let you all have fun together with him. you and soap would messily be sucking on his thick cock while gaz would be clumsily rubbing his angrily flushed cock on price's hand, pleading to cum since price had been edging him for hours. ghost on the other hand was given permission to fuck you since he was price's good lieutenant — always quick to finish tasks. so while you were on your knees sucking price's cock, ghost was already behind you, working your sweet cunt open with his fingers so he could fuck you later, soap whining besides you since he also wants to be fucked by his lt!

they all were smitten for you, and it was only a matter of fact until you'd fall in love with them too — unless you already were.

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coral-melon · 5 months

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Tangled Nightmare!

Obey me! Brothers x Curly!MC (reader)

Genre: Crack/shenanigans, Fluff; slightly suggestive?

No pronouns said but probably AFAB

Hopefully isn’t too OOC ._ .🤞

Summary: Your hair is being impossible and you need help detangling your hair. This is for my hella curly hair peeps! Kinda slightly self-indulgent too.. but my other peeps are more than welcome to imagine themselves here!

You’ve been procrastinating over when you felt like washing and do your hair. Under normal circumstances, you do your hair once a week. You kinda skipped it though, saying it didn’t look bad at all — which it wasn’t, why even take the life out of it when it could last a bit longer? It’s been 3 weeks…

Today was the day you were ready to do your hair! Your take out your brushes, washing and styling products. You got everything ready to just be in a happy, productive mood. What could possibly go wrong?

-Dun dun- your hair was impossible! You wash and put plenty of conditioner but your brush just wouldn’t go through! Your arms were tired and your hands were getting cramps; you’ve been at it for a while and tried many things, but nothing! You were on the verge of giving up and going bald, but you go to your last resort, getting another pair of hands and eyes. So you summon your boyfriend!

Lucifer

This man was busy buried in his yet again endless mountains of paperwork. He was so close to just drowning himself in demonus to get by at this point..

But suddenly, he hears your call and the dreadful scene was changed when he was summoned… to the bathroom?

He then sees you, peeking through the shower curtains, bawling your eyes out. He was about to scold you for calling him at such a busy hour, but the thought was kicked right out the window at the sight of seeing your tearful eyes. He keeps his composure though; he needs to understand the situation at hand, after all.

— “My dear, what happens?” He asks as he got closer to you.

— “Lucifer, please help me! I’m on the verge of shaving it all off!” You say after taking a deep breath.

He’s a bit confused at first, but when you reveal the utter mess you had on your head, he understood what you were so frantic about; but at the same time, he was still dumbfounded. He clears throat, and asks you what you need him to do.

You wouldn’t be able to tell that he’s actively stressing on the inside, he’s graceful at everything he does even if he doesn’t have the slightest clue of what he’s doing.

He couldn’t help his mind to.. slightly wonder off. You had sat down on the bathtub with your back facing him, told him how he could pull your hair as much as he wanted.. as long as it detangled the knots, of course!

He had always been infatuated with your curls, but this experience gave him an insight of just how much effort you put into making it look how it always does.

This was also quite satisfying to him, it destressed him to the point where he almost forgot about the work that was still waiting for him at his office.. And for you, it felt like a heavenly massage.. he’ll check you every now to make sure you’re alright.

It took a while, but him being him, everything worked out in the end! Your curls finally softened and ever so defined✨

You thank him profusely, saying that you wouldn’t know what you’d do with yourself it it weren’t for him.

But he simply looked at you with a sinister gentle smile and darkened eyes..

— "I presume that you already know this means that you have a great price to pay for taking up my time, correct..? I suggest you don't keep me waiting for long."

Mammon

Your summon was literally a blessing, he was in a bit of a tight spot with some witches and you saved him in the nick of time!

— “Mammon, you gotta help me!” So I guess it’s only fair he helped you too..

You explain to him what’s going on in a frantic state, would ask you to go to a hair salon, but you starting crying about how expensive that would be. 100% understands and doesn’t question it any farther. So he tries to calm you down, saying he gots this!

— “Ha! Don’cha even worry about it! The great Mammon’s gonna handle this; no problem!✨💪🏽”

His confidence gave you reassurance and put you at ease, you were finally saved! He’d be decent at it, it’s not as unbearable at all and would be soothing to the point of falling soundly asleep.. if he wasn’t so on and off about it!

You’d eventually learn that he just couldn’t help but get distracted by your naked body. Your back facing him, fully exposed to him.. And your hair was just perfect.. ack! Nono! None of that right now! If he could, he’d worship you.

He’d be like: Lord have mercy.. We must stay focused, bothers! We must. Stay focused!

Fell in love with you over and over again every time he passed the brush through you hair. Watching intently how your hair curled so beautifully..

Every now and then, the thought of selling a bit of your hair also came to mind. But quickly gets rid of the idea; you worked how to maintain it, you’d kill him if he chopped it!

Overall, pretty nice and bonding experience. Later thinks about how he wants you to do the same for him.. But he could never admit that out loud!

Feels all high and mighty when you thank him! Of course you should be grateful to him; He took the time out of his busy schedule to help you out and everything! …Kinda forgetting the fact that he would’ve been roasted by witches if it weren’t for you.

— “Hmph, nothin’ I couldn’t handle! Though that’s gonna cost ya a hefty pri—! Oi wait wait! I’m jokin, I’m jokin!… Half joking..”

Leviathan

He was in the middle of choosing a spot to proudly display he’s latest figure collection. But that was soon interrupted when he was summoned to the bathroom.

You call for him as you peek through the shower curtain, motioning him to come closer. He freezes for a moment, until he finally realizes that his in the same room as you while you’re naked.

Proceeds to do that Finn scream*

— “Levi. Levi! Do not freak out, cuz I’m freaking out; and we can’t have two people freaking out! It just doesn’t work. You’re the only one that can help me!” You say, trying to have him not run out on you.

After some back and forth bickering and convincing, you finally managed to get him the courage he needed to help you out!

Don’t look at him though; especially not in the eyes, he’ll simply die.��

He’s face will be completely red the whole time, you would think he’d pass out at some point… don’t get me wrong, he did — almost. You give him an idea to summon something that’ll splash him with cold water whenever he started to wobble.

In his head, there’s two voices: the one that’s been constantly screaming, and the one that is pretty much worshiping every time he strokes you hair.

Oh, Lemme give you some hope. -Ahem-🎤Don’t be fooled though! This guy does cosplay, therefore knows to do hair. Prove me otherwise!

Knows exactly how to deal with knots without ruining the hair, so at least it wasn’t painful! Your hair is far too sacred for him to mess up!

Once he finishes, there’s a short moment where he feels so proud of himself. But whatever was gripping onto the thin strand keeping his soul together breaks after you gave him a wide smile and thanked him for saving you!

— [ERROR] Levichan.exe does not compute.

Satan

He was getting mad over something, though he himself didn’t know what it was. So he was gonna go destress by flipping Lucifer off but you suddenly summonsed him.

He sensed you were frustrated before he could even see you. So it didn’t come as a surprise when you peeked through while gripping the shower curtains and heated tears in your eyes.

— “What happened, sweetheart?”

— “I’m this close to going apeshit and ripping my hair out.. Please help me!”

Doesn’t know how to handle curly hair, of course. But he’s willing to try. After all, He can’t just leave you like that! Your hair is like a work of art to him, so he wouldn’t want you shaving it off in a pit of rage! You got lucky this time, Lucifer..

Welp, he found a new coping mechanism! This was like a puzzle for him to solve, one that would also make you happy and him quite quite satisfied in the end. That was enough for him to get him going.

He was firm with how he handled you tangled hair, but in a good way. He did his best to not pull too hard and hurt you accidentally.

Keeps it respectful. But~ I do imagine his hands would go through your scalp and gently pulls on the roots of your hair in a very teasing manner. Will play dumb if you ask about it. ((Ever seen that hair pull massage video? Yeah, that))

And/Or, will play with your hair a bit like cats do when they’re massaging their paws onto something soft.

All in all, you’ll feel like you’ve ascended into a new level of lightheadedness with how at ease you head feel. Whatever headache you had a moment ago is long gone!

He comes to appreciate your hair a lot more after this; he’s a blond with short straight hair, so he didn’t fully grasp just how much work it actually is to maintain you hair.. See? A work of art!

He’s already thinking of the next time he could do this. Like I said before, this was his new coping mechanism and I don’t think you can’t do anything about it once he made up his mind.

— “You should let me do this again the next time you wash your hair, it was a very pleasing experience..”

Asmodeous

While in the middle of choosing what perfume and lipstick to where to the day, he could already sense beauty troubles before you could even think about summoning him.

When your call beckons him to come, he is ready. You peek through the curtains with tearful eyes, too embarrassed to really want to show him the mess that happened but not really having a choice at this point.

— “Love, Don’t even say a word! Asmo’s here to help~♡”

Gets immediately to work! He already had his hair products ready. You would think it’s kinda unnecessary to have as many products as he had on hand, but why even question it?

And ooh, how flawless he was.. You felt like you were at a spa with how at ease you felt. You could hear him cry out every now and then, saying how awfully tangled your hair was. But not once did you feel any pain.

But when he isn’t crying, he talks to you like hairstylists do at a hair salon. He tells you about some gossip he heard at Majolish and some products he’s planning on sharing with you. He asks you some questions and all in all, have a good time together. It’s honestly very fun!

By the end of it all, you’ve never felt more replenished. Your curls look the liveliest they’ve ever been, and you hadn’t even added your hair products or defused it!

He finished way quicker than what you would’ve taken. You probably still would’ve been only have way after all this time.

He’ll be fawning over you and saying how obsessed he is about your curls. ..but might start getting touchy since he hadn’t during that whole time. Which is kinda surprising he lasted this long.

— “Why don’t we go straight to my room? I’d love to try some hairstyles and new products on you!… Oh, no need to put clothes on, hon~ ;)”

Beelzebub

He was in the middle of doing some warmups before starting his regular workout routines. So imagine his surprise when he suddenly ends up in the bathroom.

But what surprised him even more was you peeking through the shower curtain, barely being able to hold your tears of frustration. Though you can’t stay feeling that way for long when you have a big fella worrying and asking you what’s wrong.

— “I need another pair of hands and eyes.. Could you help me out?” You say and laugh sheepishly.

— “Y-Yeah, sure! Just tell me what do to..”

The last thing he expected was to do your hair and has no experience whatsoever. But he’s washed and bushed Belphie’s hair before, so how hard can it be?

You two really need to stop underestimating the situation.💀👍

Has no idea what he’s doing but he will be so gentle! He also apologizes softly every time he pulls and brushes your hair, which is quite often.

His hands went through your hair so nicely, massaging your scalp and often playing with your hair. Your hair is so pretty..! So pretty.. it looks good… very good..

— “Beel, do not eat my hair!”

— “Oh, right. Sorry..”

But, I mean come on! Based on his logic, Your hair looks and feels so good.. it even smells amazing! So why wouldn’t it taste good too? It’s very tempting👀✨ if you want a speedy haircut, he’s your guy!

Very good at following directions, and appreciates that you tell him to divide your hair into sections to that it’s easier for him to detangle the knots. He makes sure to ask if it hurts or if you’re doing alright.

Also very respectful! Keeps his eyes where he should be putting them, doesn’t touch you where he shouldn’t and doesn’t make the situation weird; he would never want to make you feel uncomfortable. Though you can see that there’s a soft hint of blush decorating his cheeks..

This ends up being the most unique workout for him, one that required a hella amount of delicacy and patience. And self control.

You thank him for helping you out, joking about how you would’ve just shaved it all off if you couldn’t do it. He’s just happy that your happy.

*Growl..* “Oh, I’m starving now. I’ll head toward the kitchen so come join me when you’re done, okay?”

Belphegor

Obviously sleeping in some who knows where corner in the most uncomfortable position imaginable. Your summon kinda saves him from that.

This guy was dumbfounded when you asked him to help you with your hair. Like, don’t you know him?? He hasn’t even brushed his own hair this week, you think he can handle your hair?!

— “Belphie, Please! I can’t just ask someone else!”

— “Go to the hair salon or something!”

— “Don’t you know how expensive that is?? They’ll charge me a shit ton!”

He can’t refuse you when you’re this distressed about what’s going on. So he’ll reluctantly agree to help you, but doesn’t promise to do a good job. Will ask again if you’re sure you want him to help you; ..oh well, your decision.

Decides that the best course of action..! Is to look it up in DevilTube. Ain’t no way this mans knows what he’s doing.

There’s a 75% chance you’ll end up worse than when how you started. His movements are so stiff, and awkward, way too rough for your scalp, and all in all, just ass.

Will sarcastically tell you to just leave it like that, it’ll work fine as a pillow. That, of course, is not an option.

He’ll also play with your hair, making a bubble tower; and if possible? Make shapes with your hair. I’m telling you, your hair will get a lot worse with him ;—;

But lo and behold, if a miracle happens and somehow managed to detangle it? You’ll never skip a week of your hair routine. This horrible learning experience taught you that routines are very important or else all hell will break lose.

He never exercise, so imagine how how numb and exhausted his arms will feel after this?? Got to learn where you get most of your strength from even if you don’t look strong.. will want to make you just as exhausted as he feel. Do with that information what you will.

Moral of the story, don’t ask Belphie to help you. You’re better off doing it yourself!👍

— *huff, huff* “Your hair must be one of hell’s miserable wonders.. *Pant* You owe me a long cuddle session after this..!”

End

My magic wouldn’t work on Belphie’s dialogue.. ;-;

But Oh god, I had so much fun with this! I could stop laughing at some of them when I kept imagining them in my head. So I hope you too also had a good laugh when reading this! ^^⸝⸝

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me shenanigans #obey me crack #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #obey me oneshot #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me scenarios

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thegnomelord · 3 months

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Took me alotta courage to make it here so uh hi!

live laugh love for your writing it has me floored every time !! Thinking of being an anon that comes back every once in a while but I'm too terrified (help).

(feel free to ignore this) but imagine a goat!hybrid reader who's love language is head putting, they do it all the time with the team but super aggressively towards price the most- he a dragon hybrid takes it as a challenge for strength/initiating a mating ritual and it just ends up in them full on battling in the training room.

imagine one of the members notices that both price and goat!reader are missing to only find both of them stuck in the training room horns tangled in each other while theyre trying to pull their horns off of each other like idiots (imagine if it gets too bad they have to go to medical and a medic is like 'not this shit again' because it had happened way too often)

tehee anyways ill go back to fangirling in the dark- have a nice day bye bye

-terrified anon

No, no, don't be terrified, I genuinely love and live for ya'lls interactions even if I don't always have the ability to respond :Ddd

And your little blurb just gave me of the idea: you know how farmers put like pool noodles on their goats so they stop being little shits and headbutting ppl?

That. But on Price and Goat reader.

Like some poor base medic gets tired of your shit when they need to part you and Price again, so while you two are distract the medic tapes pool noodles to your horns. And keeps slapping your hands away when you try to get them off.

Since you two are smart enough not to mess with medics, you two end up sitting in the medbay side by side, both grumbling. Price's wing bumps you roughly, "This is your fault." He growls.

"My fault?" You ask, bumping your horns into him. "How is it my fault, you got your horns stuck in mine." Just as Price rears his head back to retaliate the medic curses you two out.

"Both of you out!" The medic snarls, forcing you out. Where you meet the rest of the team. Who see your new 'accessories'. You and Price are never living this shit down, Gaz and Soap take pictures and print them out, Ghost doesn't laugh but you know that fucker is smirking beneath his mask.

On the plus side, you now get to headbutt the rest of the team without worry of accidentally goring them :Ddd And if you 'accidentally' headbutt them in the groin, well, it's just bad luck ㄟ( ▔, ▔ )ㄏ

#gnome's tea break #gnome correspondence #terrified anon #captain john price x male reader #captain john price x reader #cod modern warfare #cod x reader

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ravencincaide · 2 months

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Over a cigarette

Summary: You tried to do something nice for the Mafia, for your boss, outside your job requirements and working hours. And all you asked was a little something in return. OR it took the duration of his smoke for you to go from another stupid subordinate into someone possibly interesting.

Pairing: Subordinate reader x Boss Chuuya

Inspired by anon request: Boss Chuuya and reader who caught Chuuya's attention.

Warnings: Cursing, Smoking cigarettes and mention of alcohol,

“ The hell you want?”

The highest executive- the boss of the entire Port Mafia- voice did not sound amused; if anything it held an angry undertone as it boomed around the dark, narrow cobblestone alley. The old street light shone a dim yellow hue casting long, demonic like shadows behind the mafiaso. Contorted the shape of his hat and the slim cigarette into something ungodly, in the most condemned definitions of that word.

You saw him bring the cigarette up to his lips, heard the sharp intake of breath, noticed the red glow of the ash at the tip followed by a slow controlled exhale. Then a stern; “ Do I need to repeat myself?”

“ Are you always this peachy or did I pick the short straw?” The attempt at playfulness and teasing was ruined by the shake in your voice; the unmistakable fear. He was an exceptional man but he was also the mafia boss. Your boss’s boss.

“ I don’t need to be fucking ‘sweet’ to lowly pawns” he took another drag of his cigarette. The simple motion that was valued above your existence; the thing that saved you from his murderous wrath. Your life was worth less than the thin nicotine stick that was salvaged with his every sharp inhale. As long as you kept yourself brief, respectful yet valued at the price of that cigarette your life would be spared. Perhaps even rewarded for your brassiness.

You shifted from one foot to another, an action which earned you a firm stare- a warning that you’d lose said foot if you did not start talking.

“ Did you know your men are fraternizing with the government?” Despite your fear, your voice came out firm, clearly confident in your assessment. Chuuya gave you no attention, but he did not silence you either. This meant you could proceed with your observations. This was it, your chance; all or nothing. A make it or break it for your mafia career.

You spoke of what you saw, rambled and stumbled over words in a fiery rush that not likely made much sense in the wee hours of the night. The ending of words swallowed by the icy wind, while the content, the red thread tangled in descriptions, side thoughts, additional details that came out in a jumbled mess. You were trying to be as clear as possible- and yet you likely made as much sense as a fish riding a bicycle.

Still he let you talk. If anything you swore he took slower, more shallow drags of his smoke. The very smoke which now rested on the bottom of his parted lips. Gorgeous lips- not that you would ever utter such thoughts to the man aloud. But where were you? Your voice grew slower as you picked your brain for additional information that was essential to your report. To your surprise the demonic man before you threw a helping probe;

“- Strong accusations girl” his eyes narrowed dangerously, the angry glare made you shudder in your boots as the gravity of the situation weighed on you. Cold sweat ran down your back as you stood frozen until his words registered in your frightened mind. Then you instantly fumbled through your purse until half a dozen pictures made it out. In an instant you passed them onto him,in the process you almost dropped them. Almost. The flicker of his fingers over the photographs echoed in the small space between you. The meters that separated you felt far too imitate, too close for you. Never before had you stood before someone this frighteningly powerful and you wished to not repeat this nerve wracking experience ever again. Perhaps you should have stayed in your lane- ignored what you saw and kept existing within your lowly rank? Maybe even–

“ huh, so your price?” Chuuya fixed you with a firm stare that instantly snapped you out of your self critical thoughts. The price, right, you almost forgot all about it. Saying nothing would raise suspicion- and it was not like your heart was empty of desires.

“ A week off” your voice sounded more confident than you felt. “ I want a week to myself- I- I think it’s a fair reward for spending my only night off from work for the sake of Port Mafia- doing something above my paygrade and–” you trailed off as Chuuya took another drag of his cigarette.

“ Damn right you went above your paygrade, stuck your nose where it didn’t fucking belong and risked the cover of m’men” Chuuya fixed you with a firm stare just as you felt your stomach drop. Ice cold dread washed over you as your mind registered the implications behind his words. The anger not at his mens supposed betrayal but at your inability to stay within your lane.

An overachiever who’s actions brought more troubles than positives.

“ Were you seen?”

You shook your head, your eyes cast down and firmly locked on your intertwined fingers as though bound by invisible chains- a prisoner before their executioner. The morbid comparison was accurate nonetheless; “ No, I left before they could recognize me as anything other than a drunken party girl”

“ hmm” that one sound said so little and so much all at once; a hint towards your destiny. Yet he said nothing more on the matter. Precious seconds ticked away as less and less of the now-almost bud remained.

“ So.. how badly did I fuck up?” you asked in a quiet voice, rocking back and forth on your heels. The sooner you found out, the sooner you’d know whether your foolishness had cost you your pay, any chance of upward mobility within the Mafia or your life. You shuddered at the thought of the last option, hoped he wouldn’t notice. And if he did, then he’d attribute it to your skimpy attire on the chilly Friday night.

As if to torture you, Chuuya remained silent, took his time to flicker the gathered ash from the tip of his cigarette onto the ground before he brought the almost finished smoke back up to his lips.

“ Next clock in’s Friday, 9 A.M sharp in my office” Chuuya stated as he took another, final, drag from his smoke“ Don’t even think about being a second late.”

His gloved hand flickered the cigarette bud onto the ground between the two of you as you let out a yell of happiness. Before he had a change of mind- you did not believe the mafia executive had a heart- you bowed to him. Half in gratitude, half in respect. Then you turned on your heel and ran out of the alley, not even waiting for his dismissal.

In doing so, you miss the almost mild expression on Chuuya's face and the quiet murmur; that maybe with the right training you’d make a fine protege.

Author note: *Yelp* finally this fic is done! Thank you Anon for your request, I really had fun writing this pair of Chuuya-boss fics. And I will definitely do more of them in the future. Hope this was worth the wait~

Liked this fic and want more? check out Raven's masterlist! Want another part? See Over a Gunshot

©ravencincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reposted/copied anywhere else without my consent, please inform me!

#raven cincade's works #raven cincaide's ask #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #bungou stray dogs chuuya #chuuya x yn #chuuya x y/n #chuuya x you #chuuya boss #chuuuya x fem!reader #possible protege

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stargirlfics · 1 year

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B U T T E R F L Y

Joel Miller x Black Latina Reader

Summary: Sometimes the path to healing starts with a reminder of what’s been lost

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, death tw, child death tw, some TLOU spoilers but doesn’t follow canon, post-outbreak!Joel, angst, hurt/comfort, trauma and violence mentions, fluff, slow burn vibe, mutual pining

Word Count: 5.6k

My mind has been stuck on the butterfly imagery connecting Sarah and Joel in the show, and in the game too! I grew up hearing from my abuelita that monarch butterflies are symbols of loved ones who’ve passed and I thought that would fit well here! This fic explores grief and pain but also finding hope through it too 🦋

To be soft-hearted at the world’s violent end, that’s where you’d decided to make a home for your heart with all its fragile beating.

Doomed is what they all said you were, surviving the outbreak this long sooner or later came with a price and they had been right, but still, half out of spite, half out of needing something to hang onto, the tenderness of you remained.

Surviving was a miracle and most could go on just grateful to wake up another day, but you’d seen how void life was lived here in the ruins of a former world, and as doomed as it all appeared, you tried your best to find pockets of light where you could, fighting the urge to shut yourself away.

Because maybe one day those pockets of light would be abundant where they were once scarce, maybe one day, if you kept yourself open to it, there would be a sign of a changing tide to let you know you were finally safe.

How strange signs could be, in plain sight but unseen until your brain could catch up with what your soul was feeling, and rarely did they ever come without complexity.

In your case, that complexity came with a stern scowl that belonged to one Joel Miller.

The first whispers you’d ever heard about Joel were that he was grumpy, stubborn, and not the kind of man to be messed with. He was the muscle behind trades done in shadowed alleys here in the QZ, illegal substances, weapons, extra ration cards, you name it.

He was intimidating to most people, even you; having a reputation for being a man of few words and an even shorter fuse would do that but you knew there to be sorrow there too, etched deep in the lines of his face, reflecting like moonlight in his eyes.

You’d never spoken to him, not in all your time in Boston, always seeming to narrowly avoid crossing paths, but you often saw him from afar. In the town square, catching glimpses of him waiting in line to collect a job’s earnings or in the pit, hauling bodies to the acrid cremation pyres smoldering hot throughout the day.

If you thought about it, that’s where you saw the sorrow most.

That old, faded bandana he wore over his nose to block out the stench of burning gave you the clearest view of his eyes; sad, angry orbs fixated on the task like it was penance for him.

All those hushed whispers told you he wasn’t a good man, that he had hurt people to get what he needed, and that wasn’t a surprise, you’d seen it enough to understand the grim nature of the wasteland you were in, how people often turned against each other if they thought it meant they’d live to see another day.

Maybe that understanding was how it happened that day, the first time you’d meet, something in your soul already well tangled with something in his yet neither of you knew it yet.

You’d been expecting someone else at your door that evening, a friend of yours with a bag of good soil snuck in from the outside in exchange for a radio of yours that was in decent shape.

Instead, you were greeted by Joel Miller, bag in hand, a frown already on his face as he explained the switch up, even pointing to a note on the bag in your friend's handwriting to vouch for him.

His voice had caught you off guard, a low, gruff bass in his careful cadence, Texan accent making the words go down smooth.

“Okay, no problem, she did tell me she wasn’t sure if she would really make use of it. You can step in if you want, I’ll just be a second.”

Maybe you shouldn’t have been so trusting.

That’s how people got robbed, taken advantage of, murdered and you weren’t going to get any sympathy from neighbors or any FEDRA soldiers in the area if something were to happen but despite that, and his reputation, you didn’t feel unsafe.

Quite the opposite.

Joel was certainly the grumpy type and you didn’t doubt he was capable of hurting you if he wanted but as you returned with the radio you found him just where you’d left him, his body filling your doorway in a way that reminded you of a guard dog.

Something had caught his eye in the time it had taken you to walk back, gaze fixed somewhere behind you.

It took you a second to realize what exactly he was staring at, eyes tracking him and following until they landed on the butterfly figurine hanging from the makeshift curtains of your kitchen sink window.

Golden hour light warming the window had bathed the glass winged butterfly in its rays, casting fractals of color across the wall and the worn wooden floors.

You studied his face for a moment then, a familiar kind of sadness reaching his eyes, the darkened circles underneath them a little more noticeable now.

You wondered when the last time he got any proper sleep was.

“I made it…” interrupting his thoughts gently you gestured towards the window when he looked at you in question, “La mariposa...took me ages to fit the glass and wire together right but I think it came out ok.”

He grunted in response, finally handing over the bag of soil when you noticed the slightest tremble in his hands.

Oh…so he’d been caught off guard too.

Something about your butterfly had shaken him up and you were curious, who could blame you for being tempted to cross what you were sure he would say was a line, but you pretended not to notice, trying to offer him some privacy, a second to collect himself.

You’d appreciate it if he did the same for you in his place after all.

The exchange was completed swiftly after, a palpable silence settling between you before he was leaving almost as quickly as he arrived, taking the fading summer sunset with him.

–

Joel barely slept that night, woken by nightmares again, a routine he was familiar with, haunted by the same old ghosts but it was different this time, the barbed wire around his heart digging in just a little extra, memories of her surfacing.

Sarah. His Sarah.

He didn’t realize just how long it had been since he was reminded of her this way, of what it felt like to be her father, shutting himself off to that years ago, unable to think about his life with her before because that pain was nearly unbearable.

There is only after, the after in which she doesn’t exist, where he searches for her in his sleep and wakes knowing he won’t find her.

Because he watched her slip away, had pleaded and begged to the skies to bring her back, had held her in his arms, hands stained red with her blood, and had to accept that she was gone and he was granted no time to say goodbye.

Days turned to weeks, months into years and he had learned to operate on a certain level of numbness, just focused on surviving, never getting too attached, acting cold and angry, just a dead man walking.

Until now, his chest nearly caving in with the truth that he was still breathing even after so long spent closed off.

He wasn’t even sure why he’d considered your friend’s offer to complete the exchange at all, he knew he shouldn’t have, the radio you traded wasn’t in as great a shape as he would have liked, he knew that upfront and still begrudgingly agreed, not expecting to feel so exposed, so upended by a simple encounter.

That butterfly shining in the sunlight of your kitchen made his heart stop the second he saw it, flashes of memory surfacing, almost like his little girl was pulled to the surface of his skin again, like if he stepped inside he could reach out and she’d be there.

A dreadful reality had washed that away after a moment, grief swallowing up the hope just as he knew it would, like it always had, but something was undeniably different this time for Joel. A difference that left an ache in his center.

Because for those few fleeting seconds, he had felt alive again.

–

The second time you met Joel was intentional, another bag of soil in exchange for some instant coffee this time.

It was still early morning when he knocked on your door, quiet, hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans and a sleepy kind of softness that you hadn’t seen before around the edges of his eyes which made you wish he didn’t look so inviting then.

It wasn’t so hard to look at him as unapproachable as he made himself seem, he was handsome, the streaks of gray peppered in his hair and along his beard lending to his rugged look.

“About the coffee, it’s not as strong as it could be but it’s the best I’ve got,” you handed over a jar, watching him open the lid and sniff its contents.

“That’ll do just fine.”

Relief arrived at his approval, you gathered it’d been a while since he had any and you were glad your stash wasn’t a disappointment.

You watched as he knelt down to set his backpack on the floor, stowing the jar inside and handing you the bag of fertilizer mix you had inquired about.

It wasn’t long now before he’d be out the door again, these things were best kept short and simple but as you thanked him for the exchange and moved to store the bag with your other garden supplies, you noticed a moment of reluctance.

Joel didn’t plan on lingering around now that you both had what you came for but then he was reminded of what he felt the last time he’d been in your space and his mouth was moving with the thoughts that were swimming in his head before he could bite back the words.

“That’s a good amount of soil you have, got some sorta secret garden FEDRA don’t know about?”

Suddenly you felt very silly for wanting to smile at his curiosity but also recognized the significance of him asking.

“Something like that, yeah. I…actually found a spot of flowers growing through one of the QZ fences and I’ve been tending to it. It's no garden but the flowers are in bloom now, first time I’ve seen real butterflies in years.”

You watched him perk up at the mention of real butterflies, furrowed brows hiding the flicker of emotion mere seconds later but it was too late, you’d seen it already.

Up until now, your little patch of greenery had been a private endeavor.

Something for you to put some love and effort in, and just a quiet, secluded place to be, to clear your head or be alone for a while, away from some of the chaos in the streets, and yet here you were, now, carefully asking him if he’d like to see it too.

You thought just maybe, bringing him there would do him as much good as it had done you.

And it’s there, in that moment when he says yes that you see all that hard exterior start to slip just an inch.

It’s an inch you can work with.

–

Early morning dew still clings to the soft blades of grass sprouting up near the fence line, the section where you’d been taking care of the vegetation noticeably more vibrant with color and growth.

Slowly, you’d been replacing the dirt, had saved as many roots and sprouts as possible, taking care in replanting them, and from there, a shabby little makeshift garden bed had formed.

This would be your third week caring for it and now Joel was trailing behind your steps to see it too.

His body language was tense like he couldn’t quite be sure you weren’t actually taking him to some secluded corner to ambush him, but you get it.

Being wary was smart, but you couldn’t lie that it was satisfying to let him take it in without explaining anything first, the tension in his shoulders easing, sagging when his eyes fell upon the dusky blue flowers and rich green leaves and vines growing up from the ground, searching for the sun’s nourishment.

Joel couldn’t be certain whether it was the day’s first tendrils of summer heat making him feel warm or the fluttering orange and speckled black wings of a butterfly nestled atop a marigold.

He glances at his wrist, at the memento that never leaves his side, a broken watch, and there’s a moment of clarity in the silence where Joel can feel it, all the shattered parts of him spilling out, and there isn’t any way he can catch it all, he’s already too late and he knows it.

Panic works its way into his bloodstream, causing his hands to shake, not used to being so disarmed, so flayed open.

His fingers curl into a fist, trying to steady himself, needing a moment to catch his breath, to process.

And there you were, your gentle voice cutting through the noise in his head and that tidal wave of emotion.

“They’re monarch butterflies, which means they’re special,” you’ve moved a little closer now, watching another one land next to its friend on the flower.

“What makes' em’ so special?” Joel takes a deep breath and you do too.

You thought for a second he might shut down and walk away, there wasn’t anything keeping him here after all, he had the coffee he came for and yet still took you up on your offer. That in itself was difficult not to attach yourself to immediately but there was no denying it felt good to know you’d earned maybe an ounce of his trust.

“In Mexico, my abuela used to say they were a sign of the dead coming to visit the living, loved ones, our ancestors, the monarchs carry their souls to us. I think they’re good luck too.”

The smile working its way onto your lips is fond, sad, one you knew he’d recognize, the silent but shared knowledge of loss was a heavy burden to carry. There was no mistake about it, but being here, amongst your flowers and your butterflies made it easier.

Orange and gold halos shimmered around the plant life softly swaying with the wind, your own features now warmed with the climbing sun, brown skin shining deeper under the light.

Joel was looking at you now, following your words. The meaning of what you were both looking upon hitting him square in the chest when that feeling blooms behind his eyes again, that itch of something alive, something beautiful growing again amongst concrete ruins.

And it's there, standing next to you, watching you water the soil while butterflies float around you that he works out what that feeling must be.

Salvation.

–

After that morning, trading goods with Joel became a regular occurrence.

Soil for another stash of coffee or a packet of seeds for a hunting knife in need of experienced hands, neither of you quite sure how it happened but eventually the trades became more like friendly favors to each other than practical transactions.

Your ‘garden’ also became a frequent place for you both to go, so much so that on any given day you could bet he was there, a quick stop on his way back home, or in the morning before the day started, it became an unspoken shared refuge.

Joel helped you fix up the makeshift garden beds when it became clear your tender care of the plants called for an upgrade and you were grateful for it, dismissive at first, not wanting him to feel obligated.

You could handle yourself around a hammer and a few nails but he insisted and you relented, the two of you knelt under the setting sun, working on the task together.

It didn’t matter that it was closing in on curfew time, or that you didn’t really have anything to compensate him for his time because, the moment itself, the small inklings of trust building between you were actually far better.

That’s when you started to see him nearly every day, sitting against bomb-scarred concrete, always facing those marigolds, the ones the monarch butterflies you’d told him about always flocked to.

At first you kept your distance, knowing better than to pry.

It was clear he’d been through a lot, most his age-if you were guessing correctly-had, old enough to have lived a good portion of their lives before the outbreak, the last witnesses of an old world. You wanted to respect that and as long as he was finding some sort of peace here, you were content.

You didn’t mind his company either, he wasn’t much of a talker, but his presence was comforting and familiar and you felt safe with him near.

Eventually though, keeping him at a distance became impossible, both of you stumbling through the uncertainty of what to say to each other yet not giving up on trying at the same time.

And Joel had resisted too, had tried to keep his words short, always residing somewhere in between neutral and aloof but the more he watched you in your element, amongst the seedling sprouts and vines and moss, the more it made him want to talk.

It was easy to find his voice around you.

You were soft-hearted, he could see that and it wasn’t easy to get used to the way you looked at him, like you cared, like you understood something about his brokenness right away, had let him sit here day after day watching the butterflies because somehow you knew it’s what he needed, but he didn’t mind the learning curve either.

His usual annoyance and reluctance to speak about feelings couldn’t keep up this time surrounded by reminders of Sarah, coaxing the small part of him that hadn’t died with her out of its state of numbness, softening him again.

‘You were never gonna do it for yourself’ rings in his ears.

He’d never been much good at that, doing things for himself, and Sarah was always so clever about calling it out, even now, nudging him awake again after all these years.

It’s why he decides to tell you when you ask one day, sitting next to him on sun-warmed stone.

He merely came by to sit for a little while and clear his head and found you already sat in his usual spot, butterfly watching, your eyes telling your secret, that you had been crying before he arrived, his first instinct carrying him forward, to your side.

He offered you some water, even sliced an apple in half to share with you, pleased with himself when he got a smile out of the gesture but remained as quiet as you were, wanting you to feel like you could just be.

“Who do they remind you of?” your voice was small, unsure of how he’d react to the question, overexplaining in hopes it would make him recoil less, “It’s okay if you can’t talk about it, I understand. It’s just that…what I told you about the monarch butterflies, I really do believe in it you know, the people I’ve lost…they feel so close to the surface, like they’re watching over me and I think you feel the same.”

Joel nods after a moment and you’re exhaling a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

It takes him a moment but he finds the words.

“My daughter…her name was Sarah. They were her favorite, actually, since she was bout old enough to talk. I used to call her my little butterfly when she was a baby which, yeah, got real old when she started middle school but I liked to remind her anyways, just to see her roll her eyes at me. Just as long as she knew I loved her, you know, that I never stopped, not since the moment I held her in my hands for the first time.”

It broke your heart to hear.

And it hurt him too, to speak about her and then remember that he had lost her, that twenty years had passed and he couldn’t remember what she smelled like anymore, and he hated the nightmares but without them, he was afraid of forgetting her face, her eyes, the coils of her hair, the sound of her voice calling out to him.

It was only now that he was seeing how deep he’d pushed it all down, bottled up tight out of fear, and then somehow you’d entered his life, Molotov aimed straight at his heart, stunning him into remembering her the way she deserved to be.

“I’m so sorry,” you extend all the comfort you can, knowing there weren’t any words that would ever make it right but you wanted to try anyway.

“Yeah, me too. But you’re right, she feels close, and I know you’ve put it together by now but it’s why I’ve been sittin here every day, I see those butterflies and I see her, I remember her and it feels...good. I didn’t want it to; don’t really trust things that feel good but it does and I wanna thank you for that, for letting me have that.”

He worries he’s said too much, or said the wrong thing, wanting to kick himself because he was never much good at words either but the sight of your lips pulling up into a small smile came as a relief.

“She’s with you, Joel. And there’s no need to thank me, it’s been good for me too, doing all this. I think it helps.”

He nods again, agreeing before asking you the same question, extending an opportunity to open up too; a big step when keeping personal histories to a minimum was the lay of the land around here.

And it wasn’t easy, to talk about the things that hurt, baring your grief to Joel, and trusting him with it but you did and he had held it so gently, understanding it for what it was.

Looking back you think maybe it’s there that things started to change, where your life and his started to merge.

Sometime after that conversation you gifted him one of those glass winged butterflies like the one in your window, showing it to him one evening in the garden, earning you the first real smile you’d ever seen from him.

It was after he told you more about himself, about Sarah, his brother Tommy, recounting happy memories; like the time he and Tommy surprised Sarah with her own soccer ball for her birthday one year, how he’d caved almost immediately the time she begged him to get her a polaroid camera, and you shared too, thinking on good times you’d had with the people in your life.

It meant a lot to Joel that you spent time crafting the ornament, knowing just how deep the symbolism of it went for him.

You were always doing that, looking out for him, planting tiny seed after tiny seed, slowly working your magic on him, ensnaring him deep, making him want to look out for you too.

Under the fading sun again you sat with him, watching the marigolds, the calm, slow fluttering of wings, and it’s in that same spot that you find your hand in his for the first time.

No words needed to be said, this was far better.

A little while later you saw your gift hanging from the window in his living room, right next to the radio you had first traded him for.

The two of you had found yourselves escaping the heat here after some time tending the garden together, pulling weeds, clearing new soil of rocks and rubble, now sharing his couch, a rusty old fan that still somehow worked cooling the sweat prickling the back of your neck.

Curfew hour was nearing and you knew you would have to start making your way back home but Joel warned that he’d heard from a FEDRA officer he did trades with that they were patrolling the streets early the next few nights.

You knew why, it was hard to forget the hail of gunfire last night, a group of Fireflies going after a group of officers on patrol, a fight that neither one had won.

Tensions in the QZ had been high all day since then and Joel suggested that you stay here with him for the night, saying he didn’t want you dealing with anything that might be going on out there.

He was being protective, a disapproving frown on that handsome face of his when you told him you didn’t want to intrude on his space but he was right, things had already started looking a little dangerous on your way back from the garden and you appreciated that he was trying to keep you safe.

So you stayed.

Curled up on Joel’s old, worn couch with a blanket that smelled like him tucked around you, the white noise of the fan still blowing and the knowledge that he wasn’t far, just in the next room over, carried you off to sleep.

–

One night had turned into two and then three and somewhere in the last couple months of summer that were left, you spent most of your days and nights with Joel.

No label had been applied to whatever your situation was with him, you knew better than to ask, this all needed time, and you were okay with that, just content on holding onto this good thing with him.

Because you liked being around, like sharing a space with him and sitting in the garden together, opening up to each other more and more every day.

It was nice watching Joel come out of that hardened shell of his, watching him find it easier to talk about things, noticing him trying to live life more, not as reluctant to connect.

Things were good, not to say that there hadn’t been bad days amongst all the progress made, there were plenty of them in fact.

Days where old patterns became default again, stretches of nights where the nightmares returned, both of you trying to wade through it.

When the aching of old wounds came knocking and the walls came back up again.

You hated to fight with Joel when that happened, and you hated not being on the same page but he was so stubborn it wasn’t always easy to bite back your frustration.

He had told you about his past, about the people he hurt in those early days and it’s something he wrestled with, believing in the goodness you saw inside him when all he could see were the bad things.

It frustrated you sometimes, how he preferred to shut himself off, to you, to Sarah’s memory because he felt like his hands were too dirty, too blood-stained to even try.

“Que, no entendes?! Please, Joel! Stop trying to be something you aren’t. You think you aren’t a good man but bad people don’t get upset about being bad. Do you think you can just turn it off, the part of you that was always a good man, a good father? Well sorry, but you can’t, that’s who you are to your core, I saw it the first moment I met you and every time since then.”

“I’ve killed people,” his tone was mean, and venomous, another attempt at pushing you away. “Goddamnit, it’s not as simple as-”

“I get that! Look I know that you’ve done bad things but you’ve also spent every waking moment punishing yourself for it, do you realize that? All these years you’ve been paying your penance any way you can and I’m trying to tell you it’s okay live well, that you don’t have to torture yourself anymore because we have to try and make something out of all this pain.”

It wasn’t easy to get him to see what you saw but you didn’t back down, even when it would have been easy to, Joel knew it too, guilt washing over him as you looked at him then, tears brimming in your eyes.

“You’ve endured enough.”

It’s those final three words from you that makes him ease up, a reminder you nudged him with often, that he could rest already, could make amends by making a choice to find the light.

He lets you take some space from him, coming to find you before bed because he doesn’t want to fall asleep without fixing things.

“I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair, talkin to you like that. You’re just tryna help my sorry ass and I haven’t thanked you enough. I’m gonna get better at that.”

It’s the first time you ever hug him, noticing the tremble in his hands as he says the words, feeling the sincerity in his voice, unable to stop yourself from all but barreling into his arms.

He’s still for only a moment before his arms wrap around you in return, the two of you bathed in moonlight, that butterfly still hanging in his window, pushing you towards each other again just like it had when you first met.

–

Eventually, the day comes when the monarchs leave, the approaching fall and winter seasons carrying them to warmer places, a solemn change in what had been yours and Joel’s routine.

The absence of the butterflies that had provided so much hope the last few months was felt, but the world was also a lot more open and wide now too.

You no longer slept on Joel’s couch, you slept pressed against him now, and woke with your limbs tangled with his, a quiet partnership forming.

It scares both of you, knowing that you had grown to care for each other so quickly, knowing that was dangerous and reckless but also feeling stronger because you were a team.

You think that’s why you make the decision together, one rainy fall evening when Joel comes home with a message from Tommy.

They had gone through a rough patch recently, being apart from each other for some time and still not seeing eye to eye on Tommy’s choices but slowly, they’d started talking again and there was news that Tommy and the group he was with had gotten a hydroelectric plant that had once belonged to FEDRA up and running.

There was electricity and a place to stay if you and Joel were interested, plus Tommy wanted you to meet Maria, said she did him a whole world of good and this was some of that good in action.

It hadn’t been a hard choice to make even knowing how difficult the journey would be.

This was the chance you’d both been waiting for, and had talked about, a far off dream of running away from all the violence that was inescapable here in Boston, searching for something better out there, and now it was within reach.

So you’d left your garden in the care of a friend you knew would understand its importance, and you bide your time with Joel, making deals, doing jobs, collecting and saving up supplies, and helping him map the way to Jackson.

And then the day came when you left the QZ behind for good, watching the city fade away in the rearview mirror.

Making it to Tommy hadn’t been easy, there had been one too many close calls for comfort but the trust you and Joel had in each other didn’t waver, and here you were, finally on the other side.

Settling in hadn’t been the easiest, especially for Joel, his guard still up but little by little, you both sank into a new way of life.

You quickly learned how to ride a horse and hunt in the woods surrounding the power plant, even making friends with some of the families in the community.

Joel had taken to things a little slower, but even he couldn’t hide for long, helping some of the men in the group with repairs on things that needed fixing, even cautiously attempting to make friends with you.

Small pockets of peace started to open up the longer you stayed and the threat of raiders loomed over that peace at times, keeping everyone on alert for attacks but you all had Joel and Tommy now, always amongst the first to be out there protecting, defending fiercely.

You knew they wouldn’t let anything happen to you here.

As spring arrived again you found a nice spot for a garden, pointing out sprouting flower buds to Joel one day, almost missing the fond smile forming on his lips, both of you knowing what this meant.

You were happy here, and happy being with Joel, the two of you building a new garden together this time, until finally, as the chill spring breeze transitioned into summer heat and sunshine you were sat next to him like you had been what seemed like ages ago, watching the butterflies circle the flowers in bloom in what had become Sarah’s Garden.

Joel made you a promise; to keep going for family, the family you, him, and Tommy were now. And you promised the same, not scared of how much you cared for the man by your side anymore.

It wasn’t perfect, the world was still rotten and the broken parts of you all were still raw, still healing, but this time her light was guiding the way through it and that made it all worth it.

---

A/N: When I saw that butterfly hanging in the window of his place in Boston I just couldn’t resist writing something about how he got it and here we are! This world is so dark and tragic and while this fic doesn’t change those facts, I hope it plants some gentle, hopeful little seeds of healing, because Joel deserves that and so do you as the reader! thank you for reading this, I’d love to hear your thoughts on it! 💌

some tags no pressure! @inklore @allaboardthereadingrailroad @yelenas-lova @ozarkthedog @amethystwonders11 @blkmorticia @moreofem @eupheme @obiknights @tarrenterror25 @superhoeva @buckyhoney @plumbits

#amalia writes #joel miller x reader #joel miller x black!reader #joel miller x woc #joel miller x black reader #joel miller x latina reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x black latina reader #joel miller imagine #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction

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clementine-thedestroyer · 3 months

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John Price x curly haired!reader

Warnings/tags: Fem!reader, Lots of hair touching (only from Price), so if that’s something you hate, you may not enjoy this. The possibility of a future kid is mentioned briefly.

Short, kinda all over the place thoughts about Price with a partner with curly hair.

As soon as you become comfortable with unannounced touches from him, your hair becomes fair game.

Whenever you’re sitting with him or leaning against him on the couch or the bed, there will at some point likely be touches to your hair. It could be as small as brushing it out of your face or moving it behind your shoulders, but there are nights you’ll find him petting at your head or carefully running his fingers through your hair until one or both of you fall asleep. He’ll say he does it to comfort you, but there’s certainly some self soothing going on.

It’s also not uncommon for him to press his fingers against your head and massage your scalp for you. He’s gentle about it and extremely receptive to your signals. Within a month, he’ll know exactly how to touch you in the way you like, even if you never tell him (although, if you do, he’ll be ecstatic and happy at the direction), he’s just good enough at listening and watching you to figure you out by himself. He gets a sense of pride at successfully getting you to relax into his touch or hearing a sigh or moan escape you. It’s like a voice in his head telling him he’s doing good, making you feel better. He enjoys that feeling of providing for and taking care of who he cares for, and right now, that’s you.

Arguably, the most common thing for him to do is to bounce your curls. He’ll find a curl and just play with it. If your individual curls are bigger or medium sized, he’ll find one and just mess with it. Mostly, he’ll stick his hand or finger underneath and tap at the bottom of the curl, watching it bounce up and come back down. If you have tighter curls, he will still pick out individual locks to mess with, of course, but he’s more likely to scrunch at handfuls of your hair at once.

He’s kind of like a cat with a cat toy, just fascinated by the way your hair moves and works. He’s always had short straight hair himself, and most, if not all, of his family had a similar hair type to him. And sure, he knows plenty of people with curly hair, but you’re the only person who’s hair he can touch.

He’s always gentle though, and has a good sense of when’s not a good time. Even when he stretches a curl out, either to see how long your hair is or to release it and watch it bounce back, he never pulls it anywhere near fully straight, and when he runs his fingers through your hair, he’s always careful to be gentle incase of tangles. Anytime you’re stressed, on edge, or overwhelmed, he’s not going to mess with your hair without asking, and even though he may not be able to immediately tell when you have product in- the man is understandably clueless as to how to maintain any long hair, but even more so curly hair- he refrains from touching your hair any time he can tell you have it styled.

And about him being clueless about how to care for your type of hair, that does not change.

He gets… vaguely more of an idea about what goes into taking care of your hair. He learns a bit. He watches you scrunch your wet hair so it curls well and sees whatever products you use in or after the shower- but dear god, don’t ask him what any of them do. He knows, generally, that they make your hair curl better and keep it hydrated, but if we’re being honest, there’s a strong chance the man doesn’t even use conditioner on his own hair.

But even if he doesn’t know what they do, he never doubts their usefulness. He sort of looks at it like a “damn, glad I don’t have to do all that” situation.

But if you two ever have a kid, especially a daughter who grows her hair long, and they end up with curly hair, keep Price away from the poor kid’s hair. Taking care of a young child’s curly hair is hard enough on its own, even if you have curly hair yourself and know what to do. But Price doesn’t have curly hair- and as evidenced by the many children who grew up not even knowing they had curly hair cause their parents took care of it like straight hair and brushed it to oblivion- guidance may be needed.

Even if the kid has straight hair, if it’s long, do not leave that man unsupervised. Price would be a great dad and would probably adore getting to brush and do their hair, but if left to his own devices, he’s going to end up trying to detangle the poor kid’s hair completely dry and not using a conditioner after washing their hair. He just needs a bit of direction- at least for a little bit.

When you two first got together, he was a bit overwhelmed by the sheer amount of hair everywhere. Especially if you have long hair. But even if you don’t- say your hair is about chin length or you have some sort of pixie cut- you won’t escape his “shedding” comments.

It’s been long enough since he’s shared a living space with anyone outside of the military that even only a few inches can feel like a lot. He’s used to an environment where hair is governed by military regulation, either kept short or pulled back. It’s just enough that when you two first start spending time together, you’ll be on the receiving end of quite a few jokes about shedding like a cat.

It’s something he likes to tease you about at first too. Anytime he finds one of your hairs on his shoulder or shirt, he’ll pull it off and point it out to you. If the two of you are sitting and you’re closer to the trash can, he’ll drop it in your lap or hands for you to throw it away. All under the guise of “giving it back”, of course.

He’ll point it out when he finds one while he’s deployed too, and the longer it’s been since he last saw you, the worse the teasing gets. You’ve received quite a few “found one” and “this yours, love?” texts, usually followed by a photo of either him holding the offending strand of hair or a photo of the place or piece of clothing with the hair on it. But, for as much as he’ll tease you over it, every time he finds one of your hairs, it’s enough to make him smile. It’s a nice reminder of not just that someone’s waiting for him back home, but that you’re waiting for him.

There’s also been at least one instance where someone will notice and make a comment of some sort. Probably Soap or Gaz watching him pull one of your wayward hairs off of him and asking who in the world’s hair is that, because the only person with that long of hair who they’ve been around recently is Laswell, who keeps her hair in a bun nearly constantly- and who’s hair isn’t even curly to begin with.

Only for Price to very nonchalantly shrug and say something along the lines of “the missus” or just grunt the word “wife.” if he’s preoccupied or if it’s not a good time to talk. The period’s important there, because that’s all he’ll say. He will offer absolutely no more explanation in the moment than “wife.” It also doesn’t matter if you’re not married. If you two are engaged, you’re basically already married in his mind. Same thing if you’re living together.

Of course, Gaz and Soap are reeling from his words, because they didn’t know their captain was married, let alone that he was mentioning having a wife like the most obvious thing in the world when this is completely new information to them. If they brought it up later, at a time when there wasn’t a mission to be focused on and they had time to talk, Price would go on and on about you. It wasn’t that you were a secret, he just figured it was obvious, and given the chance, he will gladly talk about you for hours.

#embarrassed about how long this took to finish #john price x reader #john price x f!reader #captain john price x reader #john price x y/n #john price fanfiction #captain john price #john price #john price x you #john price fluff #fluff #fanfiction #john price x female reader #fem!reader #female reader #call of duty modern warfare #captain johnathan price

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placeinthemiddleofnowhere · 11 months

Text

I am going to answer asks before writing anything properly but…

I have some Ghost x Soap nonsense 😭💕

Imagine hairdresser!Soap with his signature Mohawk and one of those fancy trimmed beards or maybe a moustache! And he would have tattoos too, he’d of course still have his SAS one, but he’d have picked up some more since leaving the forces. Picture him working in a new salon that’s opened up next to Ghost’s flat.

Simon’s recently been discharged from the army because of an injury and he hasn’t been looking after himself. Truthfully he’s a wreck. He’s lost a little weight because he can’t be bothered going out to get food and he feels guilty ordering in again and again, he’s let his hair grow out into a series of wild blonde tangles and his place is a mess, littered in beer bottles and old takeout packaging. He knows it’s bad, how could he not? He just can’t bring himself to help himself.

Eventually though Price comes round to see Ghost and check up on how he’s doing, he’d have liked to have come sooner but he wasn’t able to get any leave from work. However when he finally sees what’s come of his old friend he goes ballistic! In fact he pulls a one man intervention. He yanks open the closed curtains and forces Ghost to go take a shower and get dressed while he starts clearing away all the mess. Ghost, being the lost soul that he is, just sighs and goes along with it. All of his protests keep falling on deaf ears anyways.

When he’s in the shower he scrubs himself up as best as he can and attempts to run his 2 in 1 through his hair but it doesn’t go very well. He can’t get all the tangles out, he tries his best, but that’s not very good these days. When he steps out of his room, Price says he’s dropping him off at the barber down the road and he’s not to come out until he can see without his hair flopping down over his eyes. After that - and only after that - can he then be allowed to join Price and Gaz for a pint and a bit of dinner down at the pub. Price’s treat of course.

Price stops the car and let’s him get out and only when Price is hightailing it to The Broken Spoke does Simon realise that he’s been dropped off at a salon. He’s never been to a salon before - it never crossed his mind, he always thought it was a woman’s thing. However when he looks through the window he can see another man inside getting his hair cut finished off, alongside a gaggle of women, and that gives him enough courage to walk through the door. He can’t be bothered waking away and explaining the situation to Price. He’d probably take things into his own hands then, and end up with his head shorn down like a sheep.

When he gets in he’s almost blinded by all the bright lights and he doesn’t know where to look. The whole place is covered in plants and big golden sprayed statues and gaudy furniture that reminds of something out of a magazine. He awkwardly walks up to the big wooden counter and sees Soap standing there texting, and waits silently, hoping that he’ll look up from his phone and see him.

He looks over Soap, taking in his big thick mohawk and nicely kept hair and feels a twinge of uneasiness. The man in front of him is so well groomed and… quite handsome and looks so neat and presentable in his pressed white shirt and black jeans and there Simon is in his ratty old work trousers and black T-shirt (he’s pretty sure there’s holes in his clothes to boot). What’s he going to think?

Eventually Soap looks up and widens his eyes. Where’d that guy come from? He’d been so quiet approaching him that Soap hadn’t known anyone had even been there until he saw him. And what a sight he was. Tall…blonde…tattoos…yeah Soap knew he was in trouble. His hair was so long too, it was snarled and caught up in a few knots in places, but right off the bat Soap knew that he could craft it into something that’d highlight the handsome man underneath.

“Hey, uh… I don’t really know how these places work but…can I get a haircut here?”

That voice, Soap thought. He felt like he’d died and gone to heaven. It was so deep and soothing, he could listen to that man talk for hours.

“Course ye can,” Soap replied, answering him before he could fall too far into his daydreams. “I take it you’ve only ever gone to the barbers before?”

“Yeah, normally i just keep it short and get a trim, but uh- I recently fell behind on my appointments. I just got dumped off here and told to get back on top of things,” Ghost explained.

He sounded flat as he explained himself. His momentary pause caused him to look down at the floor. Soap hated that. He didn’t like to see those big blue eyes so filled with sadness. It made it wonder what had been eating him up so badly. Soap also couldn’t help but wonder who had dropped him off. A girlfriend maybe? Boyfriend? He couldn’t tell what this guys deal was yet.

“Well, we all have our moments don’t we. They don’t have to last forever though,” Soap said sympathetically. “Let’s sort you out with something that’ll get you smiling again! Come take a chair, then we can talk about what you want. My name’s Soap by the way.”

Simon moved robotically, he wasn’t sure how to act. He let himself be led over to the chair and tried not to cringe when he caught sight of himself in the giant glowing mirror. It was if it were highlighting every imperfection he had, detailing all the parts of himself he hated. Ugh, is that what the hairdresser would have to look at the whole time?

And wait…did he say his name was Soap?

Well Soap had taken him off guard. The way he looked at Simon made him feel… he didn’t know how it made him feel, couldn’t put his finger on it. Soap was so attentive and didn’t seem to be intimidated by him like most other strangers he met, he seemed warm. Ghost couldn’t help but feel taken by his accent as well. He always had a soft spot for Scottish accents.

“So what is it you’re lookin’ for today?” Soap asked, luring Simon out of his haze. “We’ve got a lot to work with here, I can see it’s a little knotted though. We might need to cut some of this out.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Simon mumbled.

He’d never felt so utterly fucking useless - not since he was a child anyway.

"Aw, don't be daft, you don't have to apologise! It can happen to anyone. Just tell me what you feel comfortable with and I'll look after ye."

Simon nodded curtly, concealing the rapid thump that was drumming all the way round his body. I’ll look after you. He didn’t know how much he needed to hear that until the words had left Soap’s mouth, but now that they were out in the open he felt like a wilting flower. It didn't help that Soap was being so touchy either. He was threading his hands through Simon's hair and fussing over all the matts and knots. His touch was like aloe on a stinging burn.

"Uh well, Normally I just go for short back and sides. Don't know how much you can leave on top with all that shit going on though. Doubt you can do much for me beyond getting rid of most of it," Ghost said, finally looking back up at the mirror and watching Soap as he fascinatingly played with the blonde strands.

"You'd be surprised," Soap shrugged, making eye contact with Simon in the mirror so that he could wink. "I'll consider that a challenge. Just you wait, I'll get you back to your old self in no time, handsome."

Simon blinked back at his reflection in the mirror and frowned. Did he just...? Surely he must've misheard. Soap didn't give much away. He just smiled and tapped Simon's arm, gesturing for him to follow him. Follow he did. Navigating the salon with furrowed brows. Why would someone that looked like Soap did...call Simon handsome?

Simon, who had barely washed in the past few weeks and who was surviving on such little sleep that his eye bags were getting bags, was not feeling handsome. He put it down to the hairdresser wanting a bigger tip. He was a good looking man after all, Soap could have anyone he wanted - and it seemed unlikely he'd want the trampy looking sad sack that just came in off the street. He was just flattering him because that's the sort of thing you do to customers, plus he thought, he'd never been to a salon before. Maybe this is just custom.

"Ok, if you take a seat down here then I can get your hair washed."

Simon went back to frowning again.

"Oh, you don't need to bother. I washed it earlier."

"Did ye, aye?" Soap smirked. "What with?"

"What do you bloody mean what with?" Simon grumbled.

"I mean, did you use shampoo and conditioner, or did you use whatever cheap crap you've been able to scrounge off the shelves at tesco express and call it a day?"

Simon hardened his gaze on Soap, but Soap wasn't intimidated. In fact, he only stood up straighter and tilted his chin up impetuously at Simon, reminding him of some of the more ballsy recruits that he'd had command of - even then, none were able to withstand his gaze very long. Soap wasn't budging.

"It's two in one so technically it is shampoo and conditioner," Simon groused.

"Steamin' jesus, you're one of those. Why don't you just sit down and let me work. You can trust me, alright?" Soap said evenly. "If I can stick some conditioner through your hair then I can probably remove the worst of those tangles."

Normally if someone that Ghost didn't know spoke to him like that he'd be inclined to deck them one at worst and walk away at best, but for some reason he found himself sinking into the leather chair before him. It was thickly padded and felt like a cloud underneath his stiff joints, all at once his muscles began to relax and he let himself lie back against the sink. Maybe going to the salon's not so bad.

"Lean up a sec for me, kay?"

Simon willed himself up and jolted when he felt Soap place something soft around his neck. His fingers had delicately brushed against Simon's neck and set off a blazing patch of goosebumps.

"What was that?" Ghost breathed, feeling himself start to panic at the foreign sensation.

"Sorry, sorry, I should've said," Soap soothed, his even tone allowing Simon to relax back against the sink again. "Just putting a towel round your shoulders so you don't get soaked. You're good to just lie back now. I'll take care of you from here. If you have any questions about what I'm doing don't be afraid to ask, ok?"

There it was again. I'll take care of you. It made Ghost's heart fill with a heavy pang of longing. When was the last time someone had taken care of him, when was the last time someone had spoken to him so softly and touched him so gently? God he couldn't remember. It was breaking his brain, rendering him incapable of saying much.

"Ok," he said simply.

"Great! Oh, by the way. What'd you say your name was again?"

"I didn't..." Simon replied, trailing as he remembered that concealing his identity was no longer an issue. "It's Simon."

"Simon," Soap repeated, smiling softly down at Ghost as he stared up at him with wide blue eyes. "Just lay back and close your eyes, Simon. Let me help you relax."

Simon bit his tongue, trying to banish the thought of Soap really helping him to relax from his mind. Something told him it wasn't jsut going to dissapear. Not when those eyes were electrocuting him with those stupid tingles that kept running down his back. It helped that he was encouraged to close his eyes at least, shut them out. It helped some.

Well, it helped until Soap started running the water. The spray fizzled out of the shower head and started cold until it warmed up. Only once it was at a comfortable temperature did Soap start to wave the shower head over Ghost's hair, once again drenching it so that he could combat the snarls. From there though his hands were deeply massaging over Ghost's head and as soon as he felt the gentle scratch of his nails over his scalp, all thoughts of trying to hate being washed were gone.

"Does that feel good?" Soap asked, his voice coming out low and breathy.

Fuck!

Simon almost moaned at the question. In an ideal world he'd get to whimper sweetly in reply.

"Yes. Good," Simon replied, voice coming through strangled. "Carry on."

If this was only the beginning, Simon thought, then he was doomed.

ok so I wanna write more for this, and I will later when I have more time but eeeeeee 🥰 I just love it so much!

Imagining Simon weak by the end of the encounter is everything 😫 he'd have been so touch starved for so long that all the attention would be tooo much, but also he'd be melting over it and malfunctioning. I think he'd come off so grumpy and awkward, but Soap would know exactly what he was doing and keep pushing anyway ugh 💕

#ghost x soap #ghost/soap #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #mw2 #modern warefare ii #hairdresser!Soap

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captain-mj · 1 year

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I CANNOT get kraken Price and sailor Graves out of my head…. Just something about the size difference and the monster fucking is so good. Sooo two month mating cycle? Wanna expand a bit 🫣?

I am always willing to expand, hell fucking yeah.

Price looked at the human currently sleeping in his lap. His arms were wrapped around Price’s torso, gently holding him closer like he might be swept away by the tide.

After some brief discussion and Price realizing he couldn’t keep Graves in the water the entire time, he found a alcove they could stay in. It was a section of the beach that made a semi circle, leaving plenty of room for Graves to sit on land while still letting Price be able to grab him whenever.

And he did grab him whenever. As long as Graves wasn’t eating or asleep, he was free game and Graves didn’t seem to mind. It had been a week, but he seemed content at the moment.

He had called Price over to hold him as he slept, looking very tired. Graves had laid his head in Price lap and fell asleep.

Price worried he was doing too much to him. Strings of bruises littered his body, along with an assortment of teeth marks and hickeys. Yes, he made sure Graves thoroughly enjoyed himself when they had sex, but still.

Graves started to wake up, stretching and slowly lifting himself from Price’s lap. He winced as he moved.

“Are you alright?”

“Sore. I loved it at the time, but I don’t think I can bend that much.” He moved to straddle Price’ “Need me?”

All thoughts of concern flew out the window because Price needed him so damn much. He took what Graves said into consideration though and when he tangled him in his tentacles, he kept him in a much comfier position. Legs spread gently and arms held above his head, making sure all of his weight was supported.

At first, he used his fingers, making sure Graves was still open from before. His humans moaned and wiggled excitedly and Price had to hold him tight to keep his hips from moving. When he was sure Graves could still handle him, he put him in his lap and gently slid him down onto his large cock. Graves pressed his face to his shoulder and relaxed, letting Price move him up and down like he was a sex toy. It took a minute before he bottomed out and Graves was already a mess.

“So good for me.” Price murmured, kissing along his throat gently.

“Don’t know how I can go back to humans after this.” Graves admitted shakily, shivering when Price pressed against a sensitive spot in his body.

Oh. Right.

This would end.

Price thrust into him hard and Graves wailed, thrashing slightly. “Don’t know how I will either. You’re so much tighter.” He twirled the tentacle in Graves, pressing hard against his prostate and going deep enough that he saw stars. “So much warmer. Like you were made by the stars specifically for me.”

Price knew he was being a little too rough. Later, Graves would limp and he’d feel bad but that was later. Right now, he wanted to forget that there was anything besides right now and he wanted Graves to forget too.

It was clearly working if the sobs and glazed expression were anything to go off of. His little moans and whimpers doing things to Price. Maybe he could keep him like this. Always filled by one of his tentacles, unable to think long enough to complain or escape.

Graves leaned forward, sloppily kissing along his jaw. So sweet. So very human.

No. He couldn’t be so selfish.

Graves came with a sob, nails digging in to the tentacles that were binding him as Price sought release. The pleasure was building, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the bulge in Graves’s stomach. He could see where he was tearing Graves to shreds. Could also see his leaking cock where Graves was enjoying it.

“Please. Please.” Graves whined to him and Price was worried it was too much. “Don’t stop.”

Price felt himself start to drool. He bit his shoulder, continuing. Graves was so warm and tight and soft inside. His hips started to stutter as he came in him, but he didn’t stop, like he was asked. He fucked the cum deeper and deeper into him, even as it started to leak from his body.

Graves trembled at the feeling, holding him as tight as he could. “If I wasn’t human, is this how you’d treat me?” Price couldn’t help it. He was being far, far too rough but with Graves speaking to him like this, he couldn’t help it.

“No. I wouldn’t cuddle you afterwards.” They’d be underwater and it would last a lot longer, but Price was a bit worried about Graves eventually needing to eat to do that. Also the whole He couldn’t breath under water thing.

Graves smiled, tears streaming down his face as he angled his face closer. He was being so good, taking everything Price had to offer. “Your species not do that?”

“No. But I don’t mind cuddling with you. Does it hurt?”

“Yes, but I don’t want it to stop.” Graves panted softly, their mouth so close together Price could feel it. “Feel empty when you pull out.”

Price slowed his frantic thrusting to instead gently roll his hips, making Graves whimper. “I got you. You just stay like this, doll. Long as you need.”

Graves nodded, body shaking. He clenched and Price jerked into him, pulling a moan out of him.

Price pet his hair, laying back and releasing Graves so he could wrap his arms around him again. He occasionally rocked into him, still achingly hard, but the pressure felt so nice.

Graves kissed him softly, holding his face. “Can you crash another ship to see if they have more of those cookies you got me?”

“Course.” He’d crash as many as he needed to find them. “Want me to see if they have any books too?”

Graves nodded. “Gets boring when you’re not around.”

“I try to stay on the surface as much as i can.”

“I know the sun bothers you, don’t worry. I sleep most of the day anyway.” Graves gently kissed along his jaw, almost lazily

Price put his hands Graves’s back, closing his eyes. “I could get used to this.”

Graves didn’t say anything back.

#cod #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #Phillip graves #John Price #Captain John Price #Price x Graves #Graves x Price #kraken price

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halfadoginatank · 4 months

Text

RE:BOOTING

The problem with being a mad scientist, John surmises, is being very aware of his madness.

There had been a few moments of all out delusion, spawned mostly of sleep deprived nights and the long term effects they bring. But throughout his career helping this military world, he had always been very aware of the line he toed.

More accurately, aware of his own actions and how they kicked any idea of morality off the shelf.

Oh he couldn't help it, John Mactavish had always been passionate, and eager, and maybe a bit uncanny in his desire for creation.

After all that's what he did for a living, Create.

It started with sketches, cartoon scribbles as the world fell to pieces behind a little boy.

Then small parts of building kids in sweaty teenage palms, building something just as the world did.

Then the military started using androids, Replacants, some looked human, mass produced for the population for everyday needs. Some prehistoric bolts and scrap metal stayed in houses or with children. But those high end beings, gifted to look like peoples lost loved ones, transferring consciousness to faux human forms.

John was obsessed, so when they opened their doors for engineers, chemists and robot specialists of all kinds to join- to help. He ran to the nearest outpost and signed up

He'd worked on everything throughout the years, robots that knew nothing but carrying bombs from location to location, Replicents of soldiers whose original bodies had decayed and grown useless to the military. Even androids with their own original personalities. He'd lived in sheds disguised as dorms, he'd slept in glamorous R&D departments, he'd even crashed in a superior's car.

Then Captain John Price stormed into his lab, his ‘office’. Hard earned with years of climbing ranks until he became an engineer worthy of the SAS, a mess of parts and papers and coffee, safety goggles on his head despite the whirling bandsaw he stood in front of.

Task force 141 was in the making, he told him. Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick was an android, who'd loved life as a civilian before the family that bought him passed, Kate Laswell, their overwatch and trusted friend, and price himself. but there was one problem.

They called him Ghost, a revitalized Replicant, a robotic body as close as they get to what he looked like when they found him, dying in Texas just past the Mexican border. The body was damaged, chassis cracked and wires tangled.

Price told him of Simon Riley, the man he'd been before. How good of a soldier, how good a friend.

A special task force was just the thing to give him authorization to bring him back, the last piece of the puzzle, they needed a man to do it.

————

Pretty much, Androids are human like artificial beings with their own personalities. Replicents are an android body with a human consciousness, and Robots are just brainless task things.

Part Two

Whooo okay, the brainrot decided I wanted to make a shitty sifi au for task force 141. Im keeping world building pretty blurry so I dont end up tripping myself up and creating a world that doesnt make sense.

I did all this shoddy writing so I can actually get to explaining the anomaly that is Ghost and how Soap fixes him and ties the team together.

Honestly, you can blame my ultrakill interest for making this, especially with what im about to write about Ghost.

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liulans · 6 months

Text

— devotum / wangxian one-shot au 🔞

rating: E / w/c: 3.9k

top!wwx/bottom!lwj 🥰

ao3: archiveofourown.org/works/51203923

easy read thread below (please be aware that this is p much just smut hhhh) ⬇️

Resentful energy is a fickle, fickle thing.

Wei Wuxian has it controlled, or so he says, down to a tee, and Lan Wangji— all he can do is trust. To love unconditionally, the way he always has, and offer up everything he has to give. To take on the burden, however he can.

Sometimes, that means giving Wei Wuxian a place to rest, behind a glacial wall of yang, diligently written to protect him with his life. Lan Wangji has adapted to this routine well enough; learned to stifle a lifetime's worth of orthodoxy and order. He's learned that the wicked ways are not necessarily wicked in intent.

'Come back to Gusu with me,' Lan Wangji had said, a few weeks ago now. A few weeks in shared solitude that have flown by. 'Resentful energy will harm you.' And he'd had to compromise, as long as he could keep Wei Wuxian safe, away from the sharp blades of the land's greatest clans.

But Wei Wuxian has killed people, cultivators, in their thousands, in the heart of the darkness of his own making. And yet, here he is, tucked far away in hiding, rattled awake by the mercilessness of his darkest nightmares. Lan Wangji has needed to adjust to this, too, because standing by Wei Wuxian's side makes him an accomplice by proxy. And that much is fine. It is fine. But he is not immortal.

Neither is Wei Wuxian. He carries himself like a trailblazer, granted — staunch, upright, indignant. Only here, for their eyes only, does the fear begin to trickle through the cracks.

Sometimes, Wei Wuxian craves. He craves validation and closeness. He asks to be soothed; to be spoken to, just like old times. Lan Wangji will not revert back to old times; he won't arbitrate Wei Wuxian's choices.

He won't back away. Not again.

Sometimes, Wei Wuxian refuses to curl up come night time, alone and cold against the rocks. He'd refused Lan Wangji's offer to take the hard ground, because of course he had. He is good. So good. There, he'd always wake up wrapped up in Lan Wangji's robes, still smattered with blood, red on white. And he'd always come up with some excuse—something about how he must have gotten cold and grabbed the closest thing.

Lan Wangji was always the one tucking him in, trying to keep him warm from the cruel cold of the world.

Most nights these days, he winds up curled up in the blankets, atop the bale of hay Lan Wangji had bartered for in a nearby village with the few coins left to his name, under the disguise of a dark grey cloak and a red rope belt. Not at all subtle; knowingly rumoured as a 'disciple of the feared Yiling Laozu'. In bed under their shared blanket, Wei Wuxian always ends up trembling next to him, clutching tight and begging for the voices to stop. It is unwavering, unrelenting with each passing rise and fall of the moon. His eyes have long grown dark, his hair disorderly, and his blood red ribbon askew where it hangs against his back.

Lan Wangji's mind is a mere shell of what it once was, his heart taking precedence here. And his heart is sombre; his resolve, diminished.

Sometimes, Wei Wuxian shakes, red raw with an itch for something more; all that resentful energy, and nowhere to put it. Spiritual yang pointed directly into the meridians does wonders for soothing that itch, much like an aloe balm, but even Lan Wangji grows tired sometimes. He has enough spiritual energy for the both of them, but the price he pays for that is doubled. And the yin will always come flooding back. Such is the natural order of things.

That is how they had wound up toppling into bed together, a tangle of limbs and a desperate mess of reassuring kisses, that first time. Lan Wangji can put up a good fight, can school himself into something almost as unremitting as he once was, equally stubborn as he is devoted, but for this— he's weak for this. His devotion to Wei Wuxian is unbreakable, it might as well be written in stone.

"The righteous, perfect Hanguang Jun. Hanguang Jun, the most peerless man in all of these lands," Wei Wuxian says, courtesy dripping like sweet poison from his tongue. Somewhere beneath the darkness of his red-rimmed eyes is that same arrogance, that same integrity he'd thrived with when they were teens. "Lan Wangji, you do things to me. Terrible, amazing things. Do you even know? Do you know?"

Lan Wangji knows. He knows well. And he takes it, obliged and without complaint, because he feels it, too. He feels cruel for it, stealing like this, but resentful energy is a fickle, fickle thing, and Lan Wangji is not selfless. Not at all.

He's sprawled out, his robes drawn open and splayed out around his sides. The hay bale is scratchy against his back, and his thighs are trembling, muscles pulling taut, following the path of Wei Wuxian's deft fingers. He's hard, his cock straining on end against his stomach. There's a thick plume of black hanging in the air around them, there are whispers of the undead, telling Lan Wangji to take and take and take and take.

'Selfish', 'dishonourable', 'greedy Lan Wangji'.

Wei Wuxian is kneeling against the folded edge of Lan Wangji's outer robe, chaos against order. His eyes are wild, his face frantic. He claws at Lan Wangji like he can't possibly touch him enough — kisses him like he can't believe he's there. And yet.

"I," Lan Wangji breathes, cupping the back of Wei Wuxian's hand, pressing it to the hot curve of his pelvis. Wei Wuxian allows it. He always does. "I wish for you to show me. Wei Ying."

Somewhere along the way, they'd gotten hooked. Somewhere before that, Wei Wuxian had begun to look at him a certain way. He'd allowed Lan Wangji to kiss him back to sleep, to pick out the knots in his hair. He never retreated whenever Lan Wangji had allowed himself the audacity to lay bare like this.

"You're too good," says Wei Wuxian, right as he gropes over the thick line of Lan Wangji’s cock. His fingers are gentle, but purposeful. Ghosting, but diligent. Ever full of contradictions.

Lan Wangji doesn't think he's particularly very good. He knows what he's doing here, what he's allowing in Wei Wuxian's moment of need. But he makes a low sound in the back of his throat, thighs spread wide. When he catches himself in the reflection of Wei Wuxian's eyes, he looks devilish there.

"I can see it in your face, Lan Zhan. You don't see yourself the way I do. You gonna be good for me? You gonna let me do all these terrible things to you again?" He lowers his voice, free hand reaching up, a testing finger dipping beneath Lan Wangji's forehead ribbon. "You always let me. You must really fear me, hm?"

No, Lan Wangji wants to say. It's a test, and they both know it – they've endured too much together for this to mean nothing to either of them, surely. But instead, he holds Wei Wuxian's hand flush against his groin, and allows himself the opportunity to grind his hips, painstakingly slow against the palm of a cold hand.

Wei Wuxian has been edging him on and off for the better part of the afternoon, his itch for it utterly unbearable. It had begun careless and casual, right up until that black fog began to swarm. Lan Wangji, out of sheer habit, had voluntarily laid himself across the makeshift bed and had opened himself up, three fingers deep and completely devoid of shame, in Wei Wuxian's line of sight.

"I want you," he says instead. He says that a lot recently, because it quells his own urge to say something far less inconspicuous. Wei Wuxian allows his hand to be coaxed downwards, where the slick of remedial salve is still warm between his thighs, precisely where he's open and eager. "You know that. Wei Ying."

"You wanna come, hm? You wanna come that bad? You did all the hard work for me, you could've finished yourself off, you know. I couldn't have stopped you. I couldn't even stop my Hanguang Jun from following me into the dark."

"You first," Lan Wangji says stiffly, pausing their hands there. Wei Wuxian is hard beneath his inner robe—Lan Wangji can see the outline of his cock twitching helplessly through delicate silk, the smear of precome, dark against red. It's stark, but overshadowed by a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Wei Ying first. As many times as he needs."

Distantly, in the depth of this barren cave, he can feel the pang of turmoil of his own. The hush whispers of the undead reminding him that the two of them could raise hell together, like this. That they could lose control together, if they so wanted. That if he keeps this up, they both just might. It would be an honourable death, Lan Wangji pacifies himself: to die for the man he loves.

"See? Too good." Absent-mindedly, Wei Wuxian strokes the tips of his fingers over Lan Wangji's hole, allowing his forefinger and middle finger to slip inside, testing. Teasing. Lan Wangji's eyes flutter shut. "What would your clan think, Lan Zhan. That I've ruined you, too? You know I have a hard time resisting you. You know that, don't you?"

"Mn," Lan Zhan says, because he does know. He knows. He knows that the moment he cracks, Wei Wuxian will be ruthless, wound-up and unable to stop. He'll break it up with soft kisses, warm enough to shatter the coldest hearts, and Lan Zhan will, in fact, be left truly ruined.

He'll also find himself host to any stray remnants of that resentful energy. Whatever Wei Wuxian gives. It'll weave itself around his qi, rattling him to his core, and the weight on Wei Wuxian's shoulder will be - unbeknownst to him - a little easier to bear for a while.

"And if you ever decide to leave me," he continues, slipping his hand into his inner robe and allowing it to part free. Lan Wangji blinks up at the sound of fabric pooling upon the ground, and those nefarious whispers grow loud again. He's wanted this for so long. He has it now - once in a blue moon. He knows the taste of Wei Wuxian's mouth, his cock— the way it curves, and the way it fits just right. "At least I can exist, knowing I've seen you like this. I can be happy, knowing that the crooked Yiling Laozu was good enough to have had Hanguang Jun for at least a little while. That in spite of your few words, I've heard you, like— this."

Before Lan Wangji has the opportunity to get a word in edgeways, to foolishly give away the deepest corners of his heart, Wei Wuxian fucks into him in one swift thrust. Lan Wangji growls, the air stolen from his lungs.

It doesn't take much to work up into a rhythm, brutal as it is. They know each other well enough by now. It goes like this: Lan Wangji knocking his head back, gritting his teeth through the pleasure, thrumming with the pain. He can ignore the resentful energy a little bit better like this, even while Wei Wuxian is desperately grinding it back into him.

Lan Wangji's core is strong enough to take it. It will have to be.

"Gods, Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian babbles—he always does. And Lan Wangji hangs onto his every word. "You feel so fucking good. Fuck. You're good for me, hm? Just for me?"

Lan Wangji will always lose himself to it, giving in to sensation. The dark energy has him by the throat, but Wei Wuxian looks at him with such wonder, light behind those tired eyes. "Yes—just. Ah, just for Wei Ying."

"Tell me," Wei Wuxian says, punctuating it with a particularly hard thrust that jostles him. It scatters the hay underneath them, the weight of them sinking into it. The ground is cold beneath, but Lan Wangji is coated in a warm sheen of sweat, and if he's scraped or grazed— well, he will not notice. "Tell me, who you are, who I am."

Lan Wangji recognises this, too. He's come to expect it — the unrestrained, unrelenting descent into all that dark energy. It's routine by now, and who is Lan Wangji if he isn't living to please and serve? "I am— your Hanguang Jun," he says, throwing a leg around Wei Wuxian's waist. He's practically delirious with it. "I belong only to you, Yiling Laozu."

"Fuck, Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan, you do. Turn, turn over— Actually, no wait, I want to look at you."

Lan Wangji is delirious with this too. It's simple for them to fall in and out of these meticulously crafted characters they've accepted for themselves. Every time, however, the Wei Wuxian he's always known will sneak back in, and Lan Wangji has to ignore the twinge of guilt that he's taking advantage of his vulnerability here.

So he flips them, strong like steel, if a little shaky, and kisses Wei Wuxian down to the floor, deep and feverish. These stolen kisses each have little messages. This one means 'I am ever devoted to you'. Maybe also 'I will never leave your side', if he's feeling bold enough. Lan Wangji's hand acts as a cushion between Wei Wuxian's head and the ground, his hips working into a shameless grind, a frantic back and forth.

"Wei Ying." He bites, a secret swell of pride for leaving behind his mark - a claim in the form of lips bitten red. "Yiling Laozu, use me."

This is the part where Wei Wuxian will grasp onto his hips, and have his merry way, but he's staring up at Lan Wangji, something fierce. His gaze is scattered, skirting over the lines of Lan Wangji's body, the way his cock bounces so brazenly between them, untouched and throbbing with desire.

Lan Wangji won't come untouched. Not unless Wei Wuxian does first.

"Yes," Wei Wuxian's voice is low, dark. Lan Wangji knows when he's inching closer. He knows that face so well now, after all these years. He knows when he's happy, when he's frantic. And now, he can add pleasure to that list. "Yes, Hanguang Jun. I won't—I won't let you go," he says, between sharp inhales. "I'll—I'll keep you here. Everyone else— they can say that I've got - fuck - a pretty little plaything."

Well, that one goes straight to Lan Wangji's cock. His hips falter, stuttering on a harsh thrust up. Wei Wuxian knows—he always knows how to do him well.

"Little do they know," he continues, mouth pressed against Lan Wangji's shoulder. His breath is hot, his body wracked over with uncontrollable trembles. "Little do they know, you ask for it. My pretty little plaything likes this too—a-ah, Lan Zhan, I'm— fuck. I'm gonna—"

"Fill me." Lan Wangji is slack, and the Yiling Laozu takes him; grabs at his hips, his feet planted firmly against the ground, and fucks him. "Wei Ying, do it—"

When Wei Wuxian comes, Lan Wangji feels everything. Everything, all at once, like a thunderclap echoing in the silent sky. And Lan Wangji sinks his weight into it, working them through it until Wei Wuxian is writhing and breathless.

He does not move after, sated and filled to the brim, his hips bleeding red with the scratches.

And when Wei Wuxian sinks back, slack against the ground, writhing with it— when Lan Wangji sways forward to kiss him, there's nothing but sheer care there. Lan Wangji kisses, and kisses, in spite of the throbbing ache between his thighs, his hips moving idly - disjointed back and forths. He can feel all that resentful energy swirling around inside him, and he takes it all without complaint.

His eyes must darken with it, because Wei Wuxian is staring at him, scrutinising him closely, as though he's searching for something.

If he notices anything this time, he isn't given the opportunity to voice it. He's always insatiable like this, Lan Wangji knows it well enough. And so he moves, batting Wei Wuxian's hand away where it's crawling up towards his neglected cock.

"No," he says, and he doesn't miss the wild fervour in Wei Wuxian's face. "As many times as Wei Ying needs. However he needs it."

"Aiyo, Lan Zhan." There are hands clutching at Lan Wangji's waist, grounding him from the swell of devious voices threatening to break him down. Lan Wangji vaguely wonders if Wei Wuxian knows what he's doing here, the scope of the consequences. "You can't say things like that. I'm greedy enough already."

"Be greedy."

It all becomes a messily orchestrated scramble. Lan Wangji moves, unfortunately, just to rearrange himself. His knees pressed flush against unforgiving rock, his hands firmly rooted in place; his spine curved and his ass presented shamelessly.

Wei Wuxian is impervious to do anything but take.

And take, he does.

The second time is all heat, fiery passion. Filthy, in the way the slick of passion-fueled spend is fucked right back into him. Wei Wuxian's cock fills out again without much effort on his part, and Lan Wangji greedily takes the brunt of it. That thick plume of black is orbiting his hands where they're planted firmly against the ground, tearing away the inner resolve Lan Wangji has meticulously built for himself over the years. Years of meditation, fruitless, broken down by fleeting moments like these.

"Do not treat me like glass," he hisses, when he feels Wei Wuxian's hips falter. "I will not break."

"You won't break," Wei Wuxian repeats, one hand holding on to Lan Wangji's hip, the other curled into his hair, their parted lips lingering, phantom touches in midair. "Lan er gege, who knew, hm? Fuck—you feel so good. Who knew you'd be like this."

I am utterly devoted to you, Lan Wangji could say, but doesn't. Instead, he's a vessel for all of those resentful whispers, muffled out by the obscene sound of heavy breathing and skin against skin. "You know." He says instead, his abdomen pulled taut in effort to keep himself upright. "You know this. Only you will know."

"Don't worry." Wei Wuxian bites down on Lan Wangji’s bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth, and Lan Wangji nearly collapses right there. "I— I'm not sharing this. Not while I have it."

Lan Wangji, despite himself, meets Wei Wuxian's thrusts. He must look shameless right now, spread open, his knees scuffed and bruising. He's selfish, he realises. He voices it, his self-control a guqin string pulled too taut, snapping easily with a low ping. "Yours," he grits. "Yours. Steal me. Use me. Wei Ying."

"Yeah," Wei Wuxian agrees, voice more breath than sound. He leans down and sinks his teeth into Lan Wangji's shoulder, piercing skin, muffling his grunts of effort. "Yeah, mine."

When Wei Wuxian comes again, it's with a half-stifled shout, red light shooting into the tunnel of the cave before fading dark. His body is wracked over with uncontrollable shakes, and Lan Wangji is deaf to anything but the two of them, the resentful spirits acting as witness.

You'd kill anyone for him, wouldn't you? You'd murder them in cold blood. You are powerful, you could wipe out entire sects.

Lan Wangji breathes out, shuddering with it. Wei Wuxian is whimpering, mouthing wetly against Lan Wangji's shoulder, their bodies flush, every inch attached.

"Please," he says. He doesn't even know what he's pleading for, really. His body is spent, his mind fogged over. "Wei Ying, please."

"I've got you," Wei Wuxian soothes, presses it into the crook of Lan Wangji’s neck. Lan Wangji twists to meet his lips, messy and not at all lacking in saliva, and even that is a plea. "I've got you, my dearest."

The way Wei Wuxian handles him is too careful — too, too kind. He treats him as though Lan Wangji is something precious, and there's something unspoken there. He lowers Lan Wangji down, back against the ground, against the smatterings of hay. Lan Wangji is vaguely aware that they're sleeping on the ground tonight; distantly reminds himself that he will need to return to the village tomorrow. But that will be tomorrow's problem.

Wei Wuxian manoeuvres Lan Wangji's legs, kisses a stripe along the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. He rests his cheek there, then, gaze full of wonder as he curls his fingers around the girth of Lan Wangji's cock.

"Next time," he says, lazily stroking. Lan Wangji's balls are pulled taut, and he's so, so sensitive. Wei Wuxian smiles, and this time, his eyes scrunch up into delighted little crescents with it. "I want you to do me, like I do you. You're such a mess, Lan Zhan. You're so beautiful. I want to know what it feels like."

All Lan Wangji can do, really, is groan in response. His autonomy - his well trained control over his body - is completely shattered. He twitches, and reaches out, fingers slipping into Wei Wuxian's free hand, his heart thumping away frantically in his chest.

He would—he would kill anybody for him. He would do it all. Wei Wuxian could ask him to tear out his heart and present it to him on a golden platter; he could ask Lan Wangji to set the world ablaze, to give them a space to tangle up together, perched upon a bloody throne. He would.

The rise before the fall is beautiful. It doesn't take much for him, not with those fingers playing him like an instrument, drawing music from him, before Lan Wangji is swearing out into the open, desensitised to the swirls of black engulfing the air around them. He falls with a husky gasp, Wei Ying's name hanging heavy in the air, thick ropes of come spread across his stomach, coating Wei Wuxian's hand.

"Fuck," says Wei Wuxian, kissing the jut of Lan Wangji's hipbone, his ribs, the divet of his chest. "I can't get over it, you like this. You always gave me the cold shoulder, and now you're hiding me away, turning yourself into something that could actually be mine if—." The unspoken 'if I was truly good enough' is deafening. He's said it before. The war had left him a wanted man, told of his crimes from every which direction. So undoubtedly, he'll say it again.

Lan Wangji is buzzing. He'll tell him someday. Correct him. Tell him about everything, perhaps, if his resolve should crumble further. Maybe he will set the world on fire for him. He wonders absently if that would be enough.

"Lan Zhan." Wei Wuxian is crawling upwards now, ready to collapse sloppily across Lan Wangji's chest. They never did the whole cuddling after sex thing until just recently. Whether it was too real for them, too much back then, the two of them seem to be toeing a dangerous line now; stolen glances that last too long, and mouths finding one another in the night.

His eyes seem to find something in Lan Wangji, seem to recognise something there, and he manages to squeeze in a soft kiss before his body gives out. "You're good, you are so good. I— thank you. Are you okay? Want me to talk you through the comedown?"

And Lan Wangji can't really do much else other than huff out a soft laugh, because he is okay. They talk about normal things, fingers idly explorative, and he is good. Utterly devoted to the chaos that has made its bed, nestling itself neatly beside the order in him.

#mdzs #cql #wangxian #ao3 #my fic #mdzs fic #wangxian fanfic #wangxian au #wangxian smut #top!wwx #bottom!lwj #mostly pwp #smut

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day0walkersdrafts · 1 year

Text

They figure things out—mostly.

It’s awkward at first, because as much as they love each other, they can’t read each others minds. Even if, sometimes, they have that secret language that lovers have; head nods and eyebrow lifts and gentle touches to a shoulder. But still, they have to figure things out. Because Xavier is in Benji’s space now—and Benji has his arms open saying, put yourself here, I want you to be here, but they have to make that work, don’t they?

For a while, Xavier doesn’t leave that beautiful hold home. Wanders the property, feeds the ducks, takes more naps than he’s ever had in his entire life (which feels like a luxury he’s never been afforded, just like that bath tub that actually fits his long, strange body). Feels a bone deep paranoia that someone is going to find him and take this away from him—tells Benji, I just need to feel like a civilian again. And flinches, because civilians don’t call themselves civilians, they’re just people to each other.

So he leaves the comfort of the house eventually. They go to a market and Xavier’s shoulders itch over it. They look at foods, haggle prices, Xavier carries the bags because it makes him feel good to be part of it. Makes his hands feel useful.

They go to a place to eat and the waitress tells him, I love your accent, which makes Benji snort and makes Xavier laugh and he says every word she asks him to say. They choose to eat outside, because indoors makes him feel funny in a way he can’t explain and Xavier feels like it’s okay to say, you look so good in that jacket. And it’s strange, to sit outside, eating a meal and compliment your boyfriend.

They figure things out in other ways too—in fun ways.

They can’t read each others minds, but instead of it being a detriment, this part is fun. In the bedroom, they roll in the sheets and say, this is where I like to be touched and I have always wanted to try this position and I never thought I liked this, but with you—but with you. They learn a pattern to sleeping, where Xavier almost always wants to tuck Benji into him, even if they part during sleep and wake up in a tangled mess.

Xavier talks in his sleep. Benji has insomnia.

The bed isn’t always for sex. Sometimes, they lay there and tell stories. Some of them end with the other going, what the fuck and laughing because it’s so ridiculous and sometimes a little scary. Because they are both men with so many scary, ridiculous stories. Sometimes, they aren’t funny. This is where the language of lovers speaks volumes, because Benji will tell a story that makes his voice waver and Xavier will slide a hand up, over his collarbone, to rest on his neck, where his kiss had just warmed that spot.

Sometimes, Xavier will tell a story and instead of cupping his own fucked up rib, Benji’s hand will land there. His thumb will brush skin and make Xavier tremble—they’ll kiss or maybe won’t, will just lay there and be quiet, and enjoy the silence as much as the nonstop talking.

But, occasionally, figuring things out—

Xavier starts a fight. And neither of them will remember what it’s over, if whatever started it even really matters. Just that it goes from arguing, to one sided yelling and stomping around the living room, while the other party stands there, mute and still. It gets nasty and mean and Xavier yells things he regrets and Benji tilts his chin up and in his cold, calm voice says things he too, will wish he’d buried.

It ends when Benji walks outside and sits on the porch. Xavier doesn’t immediately follow, because it’s not a dramatic, timeless movie. He doesn’t run after him, drop to his knees and say all the right things. Eventually, he does meander out, when his anger has simmered into something that tastes guilty and oily.

He sits behind Benji, long legs thrown wide and equally long arms tucking around the man’s torso. He says,

I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, Benji. I love you. Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life. Loving you is so fucking easy, you are so easy to love. But it’s everything else that is so, so fucking hard, you know? It is so hard sometimes, and I feel so bad at this—all of this. It’s so hard, but I want to keep doing this, all this hard shit, with you. I can’t imagine doing this with anyone else.

Benji’s hands drop to Xavier’s forearms. He leans his head back, because he knows Xavier want’s to put his nose in those black curls.

He says, heh. Hard.

And Xavier loves him so fucking much for it. He loves him so much it makes him bite into his shoulder which makes Benji shriek out a sound, which makes Xavier stand with his arms still around the other man, lifting him up with mercenary strength that hasn’t dulled yet. They’re both laughing over it as Xavier walks backwards, pulling Benji back inside their home, where he’ll take him to the bedroom.

It is the first time he thinks their home and not Benji’s home that he lets me stay in.

#xavier #benji #xavier x benji

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sillyvisioncorner · 1 year

Text

Top 100 Songs Of The Year

1. Find The Keys (Remastered) by The Stupendium

2. Bones by Imagine Dragons

3. A Good Song Never Dies by Saint Motel

4. Eleven Sings A Song (Part 3) by Aaron Fraser Nash

5. Candy Store - Heather's The Musical (Off Broadway Cast)

6. All Eyes On Me by OR3O

7. Moving Up In The World by DAGames

8. Brutal by Olivia Rodrigo

9. Dead Girl Walking (Reprise) - Heather's The Musical (Off Broadway Cast)

10. Build Our Machine (Trio Mashup) by DAGames

11. Enemy (Cover) by Annapantsu

12. Enemy (No Rap/Radio Cut) by Imagine Dragons

13. Devil's Price by Poor Man's Poison

14. Mr Bones by Kroh

15. Cipher by LEMMiNO

16. Teens - Stranger Things s4 Ost

17. California Dreamin' by The Beach Boys

18. Running Up That Hill by Kate Bush

19. The Devil's Swing (Mashup) by Fandroid

20. Welcome Home (Cover) by Cami-Cat

21. A Little Messed Up (TechnoBlade Animatic) by June

22. Stranger Things s3 Recap Song by Aaron Fraser Nash

23. Ready To - BNA (Brand New Animal)

24. Should I Stay Or Should I Go by The Clash

25. Rewired by Gabbie Hanna

26. Brothers In Arms (Cover) by OR3O

27. Feed The Machine by Poor Man's Poison

28. Cells No More by The Stupendium

29. Voices by Derivakat

30. Devil's Train by The Lab Rats

31. Shut Eye (Slowed) by Steeling Sheep

32. Kids (Slowed) - Stranger Things s1 Ost

33. Ballroom Blitz by The Struts

34. Art Of Darkness by The Stupendium

35. Blood And Ink by NateWantsToBattle/ Give Heart Records

36. Meant To Be Yours - Heather's The Musical (Original West End Cast)

37. Beautiful - Heather's The Musical (Off Broadway Cast)

38. Dead Girl Walking - Heather's The Musical (Off Broadway Cast)

39. Smells Like Teen Spirt by Nirvana

40. Monster by Imagine Dragons

41. Get Jinxed - League Of Legends

42. This Is Love by Air Traffic Controller

43. Ashite Ashite by Kikuo

44. Give And Take by Poor Man's Poision

45. Freeze Your Brain - Heather's The Musical (Off Broadway Cast)

46. A Pizza The Action by The Stupendium

47. Desolate Hallway by Advocate Music

48. Cell Block Tango (Edit) - Chicago (2002)

49. I Say No - Heather's The Musical (Original West End Cast)

50. Here Comes Vi/Get Jinxed (Mashup) - League Of Legends

51. Trouble by Gabbie Hanna

52. Thank God I'm Not You by Himalayas

53. You Give Love A Bad Name (Nightcore) by Bon Jovi

54. Teen Idle (Animatic) by MARINA

55. Gospel Of Dismay (Cover) by OR3O

56. Cherry Bomb by Joan Jett and The BlackHearts

57. Revived by Derivakat

58. No One Escapes by Catherine Kelly

59. Cabinet Man by Lemon Demon

60. Why Did I Say Okie Doki? by The Stupendium

61. Kids (Ain't Alright) by Grace Mitchell

62. Max Sings A Song (Part 3) by Aaron Fraser Nash

63. Typical Me by Kroh

64. Spend The Night by TryHardNinja

65. Bendy Beats by Kyle Allen Music

66. Burn by Fishy Mom

67. Bendy's Tale by OR3O

68. Candle Queen by GHOST

69. Orphan Tears (Edit) by Your Favourite Martian

70. Glitter And Gold by Barns Courtney

71. CopyCat (Mashup) by Circus-P

72. The Fine Print by The Stupendium

73. Why Did I Say Okie Doki (Cover) by K.C

74. Detroit Rock City by KISS

75. Playground By Bea Miller

76. Little Talks by Of Monsters And Men

77. 1985 by Bo BurnHam

78. Total Insecurity by Rockit Gaming

79. Sharks by Imagine Dragons

80. Tangled Up by Caro Emarald

81. Seventeen - Heather's The Musical (Off Broadway Cast)

82. Hayloft 1/2 by Mother Mother

83. Everybody Loves Me by One Republic

84. Sunglasses At Night by Corey Hart

85. Yo Girl - Heather's The Musical (Off Broadway Cast)

86. Soldier, Poet, King by The Oh Hellos

87. One Of My Kind by CeCe And The Dark Hearts

88. Its Spreading by Dawko

89. Face Reality by Victor McKnight

90. 2econd, 2ight, 2eer (That Was Fun GoodBye) by Will Wood

91. Apex Predator - Mean Girls The Musical

92. DAGames Official Founders Pack

93. A Cautionary Tale - Mean Girls The Musical

94. Dead Girl Walking - Heather's The Musical (Original West End Cast)

95. House Of Memories by Panic! At The Disco

96. Sic Semper Tyrannis by Creamay

97. Always Wanted by MiatriSs

98. Burning Pile by Mother Mother

99. Fight For Me - Heather's The Musical (Off Broadway Cast)

100. Casino Royale by DerivaKat

#my blog #music #my music #heathers the musical #mean girls musical #bendy and the ink machine #bendy and the dark revival #batdr #batim #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #dream smp #stranger things #heathers

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fumblingmusings · 10 months

Note

Do you have any music that you associate with characters when you write or in general?

My music taste is objectively bad I hope you know. I like Eurovision and K-Pop (BEFORE IT WAS 'COOL' I HAVE STANNED GIRLS GENERATION SINCE 2011 GET ON MY LEVEL BTS ARMIES OR WHOMSTEVER) so my choices are... bad. Basic. Melodramatic. Problematic? Another adjective ending in tic.

So uh. Music. You can guess if you like which songs refer to whom. I think many of them are generic enough to span many nations at one point or another. They're all far more dramatic than canon I can say that much. :|

Melanie Martinez - Void

Pipe down with the noise, I cannot bear my sorrow / I hate who I was before / I fear I won't live to see the day tomorrow / Someone tell me if this is Hell / I gotta escape that void / There is no other choice, yeah / Tryna turn down the voices / The void ate me / Look at the mess I've done / There is nowhere to run, yeah / Holding a loaded gun / The void / Like a priest behind confession walls, I judge myself / Kneeling on a metal grater / Bloody, like a body that has died and it's myself / Tangled in my own intestines

Konata x Generdyn - Fight Back

Nah, this ain't hate speech, this is faith preached / This is Shakespeare mixed with Banksy / This is screaming out until you can't breath / This is I don't care how long it takes me, yeah (I don’t care) / 'Cause I know freedom reigns here / Already overcame fear / So if I wanna see it then I gotta be / Imma be the change (Yeah) / I'm defiant, I rise in a crisis, I know what the price is, I'll show 'em what a fight is / I'm the leader of the pack / I'm here, where you at? / Set the flame light a match / I will fight back

Rina Sawayama - Holy Til You Let Me Go

Tried to pray the pain away / Just like you taught me (But something had changed) / Came to shelter from the blame / But I left taking all the shame / Oh, you saw a light starting to shine / Wanted it only for your eyes / Older and wise, God on your side / I was the martyr who paid for your life / I was innocent when you said I was evil / I took your stones and I built a cathedral / Found my peace when I lost my religion / All these years I wished I was different / But, oh, no, now I know / I’m holy till you let me go

Chelsea Wolfe - The Waves Have Come

Creation was the only word that made you feel you never were / An endless hope is all it was and holding sacred all were / And don't forsake the way we were and don't tell me you never would / And we don't need physical things to make us feel and make us dream / When earth cracks open and swallows then / We'll never be tired again / And we'll be given everything the moment we realize we're not in control / And all you know gets older when the sun goes down and everything / Begins to fade away the waves have come and taken you to sea / Never to return to me

Lana del Rey - National Anthem

It's a love story for the new age / For the six-page, we're on a quick, sick rampage / Winin' and dinin', drinkin' and drivin', excessive buyin' / Overdose and dyin' on our drugs and our love / And our dreams and our rage / Blurrin' the lines between real and the fake / Dark and lonely, I need somebody to hold me / He will do very well, I can tell, I can tell / Keep me safe in his Bell Tower Hotel / Money is the anthem of success / So put on mascara and your party dress / I'm your national anthem, boy put your hands up / Give me a standing ovation / Boy, you have landed, babe, in the land of / Sweetness and danger, queen of Saigon

Marina - Immortal

I wanna be immortal like a god in the sky / I wanna be a silk flower like I'm never gonna die /I wanna live forever, forever in your heart / And we'll always be together from the end to the start / That's what we do it for, to reserve a place / It's just another part of the human race / That's what we do if for, to reserve a space / In history it's just part of the human race, race / I'm forever chasing after time but everybody dies, dies / If I could buy forever at a price, I would buy it twice, twice / But if the Earth ends in fire and the seas are frozen in time / There'll be just one survivor, he memory that I was yours and you were mine

Loreen - Under Ytan

I often think about you / As if you were my own brother / I have changed too / Into a merciless monster / When I see all the evil / That we, as human beings, have unleashed / The senseless suffering / Then I find it harder to understand / That we all were children once / And we all were helpless once / We loved without limits / We loved unconditionally / Under the surface / We're all small / Under the surface / A good soul can be lost

#q&a #hetalia #thank you for the ask!!#i have like three thousand instrumental songs too but they're more for mood and writing than these

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seawitch62 · 2 years

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Friends with benefits can it work?

Mentions of alcohol and sex

Word count 850

Friends with benefits.

🏵We’re not dating, we’re just friends who hang out and cuddle together.🏵

—---------

Why are romantic relationships so difficult? They all start with flowers and chocolates and sweet words and end in a battle.

"I've had enough!" It always ends up a tangled mess of emotions and memories and skirmishes of wills. Time for a break, time to be just me, enjoy independence. No more catering to egos that are not my own.

💐

Tequila shots, staring at Jaeyoon, that competitive glint in his eyes, he is here to win. He always wants to win, should I let him win? He is my bestie, what are friends for? He is always here for me, a shoulder to cry on, rant about the injustices I face during the course of my daily life. So what if I let him win these harmless games, he feels great about it and a small price to pay for our friendship.

The Evening passes as do the shots, salt and lemon line the table, the clock ticks away. Alcohol dims inhibitions and common sense.

"You got a nice butt" in a matter of fact tone that is slightly slurred. Jaeyoon smiles "my best feature!" He declares confidently.

Looking at him "I wouldn't say that"

Jaeyoon smiles as he knocks back another shot "are you hitting on me?"

"What��.no"

"Too bad," he replies cryptically.

🎯

Morning sun drifts through the blinds, pulling the sheet above my head to block out the sun, the sheet plays tug of war, "what the".

My head, fuck the shooting pain darts around like a whirlpool. Moving about trying to escape the sunlight, 'omg' my foot touches what my fuddled brain can only conceive is a human leg. Startled, upon opening my eyes a human form slowly comes into focus. It's Jaeyoon!

Omg what have I done? Memories of the night before flit through like hummingbird wings.

Our discussion on relationships and loneliness and lack of intimacy. 'Friends with benefits'. The sex wow he is a giving thoughtful lover, but this is a mistake, sex is not worth ruining our friendship over. I'm sure he will agree, it will be awkward for a minute but we can go back to the way it was before.

🎲

I thought nothing surprises me anymore but this past month. Jaeyoon was right, friends with benefits is the way to go. No commitments, just fun. Dinners and clubbing just enjoying each other's company as we did previously but with added benefits. We agreed we are not exclusive, a perfect situation, freedom, independence and great sex.

♤

Jaeyoon was always a little possessive and protective of our friendship, it was our time that I devoted to him.

Was it my imagination? He seemed rude and a little belligerent towards Luke. What was I supposed to do? Luke spotted us at the coffee shop, he is a co-worker so naturally I invited him to sit and join us. Jaeyoon seemed to take an instant dislike to him.

On the drive home, "he's into you, wants to get into your pants!"

"What? no! what are you talking about?"

"Don't act like you don't know! Are you into him?" his eyes glare questionably. "No"

♤

Weeks flow into each other, wrapped in conversation and bodies entangled, a perfect arrangement. Well bar those moments. "Are you staring at that guy's ass?" "Where were you yesterday?" "Why didn't you pick up my call?". When I told him someone asked me out to dinner and I was thinking of going. All hell was let loose. A roar any king of the jungle would appreciate, "what? What of our arrangement? us?". In the end I agreed not to go to dinner. In the bedroom he knows all the sweet spots and honeyed words to say, demanding, adventurous and totally focused on pleasure for both of us, an intoxicating mixture. His comment that I need only him in and out of the bedroom was unexpected, heat of the moment right?

■

Alcohol lightens the mood, music sets the pace, dancing wrapped in an embrace of warmth, Jaeyoon sings a melody into my ear, his voice sends shivers all across my body, his lips nibble and delight my neck and ears. Foreplay! Seduction it is his forte. Before long naked bodies squirming with pleasure on the mattress. "Your mine" he whispers.

■

The territorial attitude, with jealous and possessive outbursts, goes against the rules, the guidelines we set out on the onset. He seems to be tossing them out the window. It was better than I initially expected but he is acting more like a partner than a friend now. I have to end this before I lose my friend.

"You are breaking up with me?" Jaeyoon roars, "no.. yes..we are still friends so…"

"Friends?" He snickers .

"Let's call a spade a spade, lovers! We are lovers, my little pussycat!"

"Jaeyoon please…"

"Do you honestly think I will let you go now?" He states in a disbelieving tone.

"Now go and get ready, our dinner reservations are in twenty minutes".

#jaeyoon x reader #jaeyoon fanfiction #sf9 x reader #sf9 au #sf9 scenarios #jaeyoon scenario #jaeyoon au

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adoracora-elizabeth · 1 month

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But Papa! Why? Chapter 41

Cora stared at the building. Mr Bricker's company was located in the Victoria House. It was an impressive building. Even though she knew he only rented an office space in this building she was still impressed. She felt nervous, what if he knew who she was? Her name had been under their articles. She shook her shoulders, thinking that would make her even more nervous and it would show. She straightened her back and looked down at her clothes. This morning, she had been indecisive about what to wear. A long dress, a short dress? A skirt with a blouse? She ended up in a blue pantsuit with a waistcoat. Her curls were tamed into a low bun, Robert had messed it up a bit once she wanted to leave the house. He had kissed her passionately and his hands started roaming through her hair and had tangled it up. She loved how affectioned Robert was. She always said her love language was physical touch and it was clearly also Robert's. She took in a deep breath and crossed the street and entered the building.

"I have an appointment with "Advertisements with Mr. Bricker' Where do I need to go?" She asked the man behind the reception.

"Third floor and then follow the signs."

"Thank you very much."

+++

"Do you want a cup of tea?" Mr. Bricker offered Cora a chair.

She sat down and smiled up. "Thank you, that would be nice."

"Miss MacLaine was it not?"

Cora had used her mother’s name, instead of her own. "You are correct, Mr. Bricker."

"You can call me Simon." He said.

"Simon, nice to meet you. I am Cora." She took the cup Simon handed her.

"Well, what can I help you with?" Simon sat down at his desk and pulled a notepad closer.

"As I wrote, the company I work for, 'Levinson and Son', is looking to place some advertisements in England and we could use some help with that."

"They are an advertisement company themselves. Why would they need my help?"

"We know the American market, but we realise that the British market is different. And we like a good start."

Simon frowned. "I do not see how you came to the conclusion that I would place advertisements for a competitor?"

This was something Patrick had prepared her for because that was what he would answer if he got that question. "I understand, and that is why we are interested to work together." Cora answered.

Now Simon leaned forward, his eyes went over Cora’s body. "Why my company? You must know that I am not the biggest company."

"What do you mean?" Cora tried to sound as innocent as she could. She hated the way he looked at her, it gave her chills. Not the chills that run over her back when Robert run his hands over her skin.

"There is another company, based in this same city that is bigger than we are at the moment. They are called 'Crawley Advertisements'. Did you hear about them?"

"I think I did." Cora tried hard to keep a straight face. "But I am not aware why the choices that are made were made."

"Well, we will be the biggest company soon. Lot of business are coming to us, instead of 'Crawley Advertisements. The company you work for made the right decision to choose my company."

"What is your secret Simon?" Cora asked.

"My secret? I am not sure if it is a secret when you simply offer lower prices. Is it?"

"Probably not, but when you ask less, you can offer less can you not?"

"That is for us to know." Mr Bricker winked and leaned even further forward. "The clients do not know that. They will get their advertisement and are happy."

"If it is that simple, everybody could start an advertising business. But you need to deliver good work to keep your clients with you."

Simon did not answer, he squinted his eyes. "Is 'Levinson and Son' going to talk with 'Crawley Advertisements'?

"I cannot answer you that." Cora said. She found it hard to keep her face composed. She tried her hardest to give him answers that would not raise question later. What if he ever found out she worked for 'Crawley Advertisements'. What would he do, how would he react?

"From the moment you stepped inside my office, I have a feeling I have seen you before. Is that possible Miss MacLaine?"

Cora felt her cheeks colour and she looked to the floor; he had called her by her last name again. "I live in London for some time now, maybe we have been to the same events?"

"You are a very good-looking woman, a woman I would never forget when I saw her. And I know I have seen you before, I just cannot place the setting."

"I am very sorry, but I have not seen you before. So, we did not meet on the day you think you saw me." Cora needed to leave this office. She did not like the tension that was suddenly present. Did Simon suspect something, he had suddenly called her Miss MacLaine again instead of Cora. "Maybe you should schedule a video call with Mr. Levinson about this possible cooperation? I am very sorry, I do not think I will be able to answer the question you have, and I am wasting your time."

Simon suddenly put his hand on Cora's that was resting on the table. "We could meet up, outside of this work setting. I would love to know you better and it would help you company immensely."

This scared Cora, she had not anticipated that he would make a move on her. "Why would it help 'Levinson and Son' when we went out? You said so yourself, it would be out of the work setting."

"Dating the boss of the company you want to work with, gives you a great advantage." A dark shadow flashed in Simon's eyes.

Cora got scared now, Simon was still holding her hand in his. "Can you please let go of my hand?" She asked politely.

Simon did not respond, he stared at her. "I have seen you; I just know."

"Please let go of my hand. I will think about your offer, but please let go of my hand." Simon's phone rang, it was just the distraction that Cora needed to pull her hand back. She quickly stood and said: "Thank you for your time. You will hear from 'Levinson and Son'. Goodbye."

Simon also stood. "We will meet again, that I am sure off."

The dark gaze in Simon's eyes scared Cora and she rushed out of his office. It took her the entire trip with the subway to get rid of the nasty feeling he gave her.

+++

"You are back." Patrick greeted her. In his office were also Robert and Rosamund waiting for her. It was Rosamund who walked over the moment she stepped inside the office.

"What happened?" Rosamund put her hand on Cora's arm.

Cora looked up at her and smiled. "Mr. Bricker told me how they are getting all the clients. But please let me never go back to that office or meet up with him ever again."

"What did he do?" Robert's voice sounded. "Did he touch you?" He took two big steps and stood next to Rosamund.

"He did not. He just touched my hand. But he asked me out." Cora could not look at Robert, she knew he would get very angry, and she did not want to see the disappointment in his face.

"How dare he!" Robert hissed. "Father, Cora is never going back to that man. I do not care how much of a threat his company will be. Cora is not going to be involved anymore."

"He only touched my hand, Robert." Cora said timid. She knew his reaction was valid because Simon did ask her out. But Simon did not know she was engaged to be married, or did he? What if he had known who she was from the start? "Do you think he knew who I was? He did say he thought he had seen me before. Did we make a mistake, by using my father's company?"

"Harold is more than capable to repel this Mr. Bricker if he keeps pushing. Just leave that to your brother. Did Mr. Bricker tell you anything about their tactics? How is he getting all the clients?" Rosamund asked, her hand was still on Cora's arm.

"He simply said that he asks lower prices and that is the reason people are coming to him. But when I said that with less money you can offer less. He gave me a cryptic answer, that it was for him to know. Did we ever see an advertisement of his?"

"The ones I have found, where very basic and did not get out very far." Patrick answered. "It seems like he is not really a treat to our company. His downfall is already upon him."

"Cora? What are you not telling me?"

Now Cora looked up to Robert. "I am a bit scared of what he would do, once he finds out I work for you. He did look at me with a weird look in his eyes, and his gaze was very dark. He gave me the gibbers."

Robert's index finger brushed over Cora's cheek. "Even if he knows you work for us. He would not do anything, maybe he will try to sue our company."

"Sue?" Cora asked with widespread eyes.

"He could try, because we tried to get company information out of him. But it would never stand, because everything he told, he told out of free will. Do not be scared my dear. You did splendid and we know exactly what we needed to know. He is not a real treat, and we will keep doing what we are doing." Robert took Cora's hand in his and softly squeezed her hand. "Papa, is it alright if Cora and I call it a day?"

"Of course, son." Patrick answered and then he looked at Cora. "You did amazing. As Robert already said, we know exactly what we needed to know. And do not worry about that Mr. Bricker, I will deal with him. If he ever tries to bother you, he has to get passed me first."

"Thank you. I really appreciate that."

"You gave us some valuable information today. Keep that in mind, you did splendid."

#cora crawley #downton abbey #robert crawley #downton #fanfiction #cobert

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