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kivino · 6 months

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KIVI, YOU SWEET ANGEL YOU.

can you write a price x gn!paramedic!reader where price is on leave, and maybe he gets into a car accident that isn’t too bad so he refuses to go to the hospital, but the cute paramedic keeps insisting on at least checking him out in the ambulance……….. 😋

DOUBLE VISION || JOHN 'BRAVO 0-6' PRICE X PARAMEDIC!GN!READER

Word counter – ~1.9k

Tags/Warnings – mentions of car crash, intoxication, medical examinations, fluff, first meeting, and lack of medical professionalism, lmao.

A/n – PLSS I HOPE YOU LIKE IT POOKIE, IT TOOK ME A HOT MINUTE TO GET TO THE REQUEST I’M SORRY MWAH. also credits for the name go to @mockerycrow as well, they’re a genious and have the biggest brain out of the two of us.

ao3 link for this fic

It’s always a slow process for John - getting used to the slow, civilian ways when he finally gets his leaves approved. When he spends so much time on the field, more often than not he starts to forget about “the other side” of life. Lack of noise, mundane mornings, and silent nights come and with them, the all-encompassing feeling of loneliness starts to set in his gut. John gets reminded about the lack of anyone’s presence in his life. No one is waiting for him back home, and no one will probably be any time soon, with how work takes over most of his free time. And then the captain remembers he’s not getting any younger.

Of course, he had plenty of experience and relationships before, but none of them lasted until now when his hair was already graying and wrinkles were starting to riddle his face here and there. John wasn’t insecure about his age, no, because that would be foolish, really, rather it was the fact that he had no one to share with all the years that were ahead of him.

What John also had a hard time getting used to was driving the busy streets of London with its crazy drivers after months of not getting behind the wheel, which brings him to this moment. Well, it really was on him for trying to get somewhere after happy hour in all the pubs in the area ended, he should’ve probably anticipated some drunk idiot would want to drive back home today. John wasn’t in the right headspace at the moment to fill out all the paperwork and figure out who was in the wrong. His thoughts were far away from here. Probably all the impact from the airbag and the hit.

He’s had it worse before, of course, so some bruises and scratches here and there wasn’t something he couldn’t handle. John felt some pulsing pain in his knee, making it harder to stand upright, and a bit of an ache in his neck from the whiplash, but again, it wasn’t as bad as getting thrown into the wall by an explosion or falling out of a damn helicopter.

So now he has to spend the whole evening working out things with the police and that drunk idiot who bumped into him, freezing his ass off in the rain. Just perfect. John feels a surge of annoyance and exhaustion wash over him, he pinches his brow, letting out an impatient sigh. Cops have arrived on the scene already and started examining the two collided vehicles, after putting around some traffic cones so some other lucky fellas don’t decide to join in on the fun. From his spot on the sidewalk, John can also see the paramedics, who had to get involved because as soon as cops started questioning that drunk guy, he decided to scrunch into himself and show the world all the contents of his stomach. As if it needed to get even more complicated than it already was.

“Excuse me, sir? You’re the other…driver involved in the accident?” John suddenly hears a voice, a bit on the quiet side, which brings him out of his thoughts that involve strangling somebody in a variety of different ways. And oh, his nights instantly become tens, if not thousands of times better when he sees the owner of said voice.

Judging by the identifying markings you were a paramedic, and a very cute one at that, with your dull green uniform and a big jacket on, brows tied together in a concerned expression. Oh, and your eyes, they looked absolutely lovely in the low streetlights. Price is taken aback for the moment, forgetting every word in his vocabulary. He feels his heart starting to beat faster, blood flowing through his veins so fast he’s sure if it wasn’t for the evening darkness he’d most likely resemble a tomato. But then John realizes he must say something because just staring at you would just make him seem like some old creep. And he absolutely didn’t want that.

“Yes, that would be me.” He speaks up after clearing his throat. You nod to that, attentive gaze still on him. John then adds on after a short pause, which took him to let out a deep sigh. “You need me for anything?” Anything. Something. Please.

“Just checking up.” John feels his heart melt at that small smile that grazes your lips, making it obvious you’re satisfied with his answer. “You seem to be holding up better than the other driver.” You joke in an attempt to either lighten up the mood, which John appreciates, or to calm yourself a bit. It didn’t escape him how you seemed a little shaky. It was Friday night, so today’s shift might have been rough on you. Always the Friday nights.

“Well, anyone would hold up better than that bloke.” He jokes with a bit of abandon, a low chuckle escaping his lips, as he starts to overthink himself. John suddenly feels like a dumb teenager, which is never a good sign, especially when there is someone he’s interested in right in front of him. Price feels like his laugh is too rough, stance is too relaxed and everything is just a bit too much when your eyes are on him. Oh, he’s so going to embarrass himself.

“True, but let’s not tell him that.” You give a quiet laugh and John’s worries die down a little. Not completely, but enough to let his eyes get glued to your face. “How are you feeling? Is there any abnormal pain, anything unusual or out of the ordinary?” Oh, so you’re the type to get straight to business, huh? Interesting. Price liked that. “If there’s anything wrong we’ll get you right to the hospital.” Price declined when he got asked about the hospital before by another paramedic because there was no way he was going to spend even more time out of his house because of some minor scratches. But if it meant you’ll be there, he’s calling dibs on the seat beside you in the ambulance truck, dear lord.

“My knee’s complaining a bit, love.” John can see your eyes going as big as two shiny coins when you hear that pet name, which, to be fair, slipped out completely unintentionally. However, by the way you instantly light up in another shy smile, he can tell you don’t really mind it, so his nervousness caused by this… “happy accident”, comes down again. “Some bruises, but I’m not about to hold you up because of those.”

“Oh, well, that’s alright, come with me and I can check you out…” You stutter over your words while talking a bit too quickly and once you understand what you said, an annoyed groan comes out of you. Way to embarrass yourself. “I mean, check your knee out in the ambulance, alright?” You again shoot him a smile. Which probably is in vain, since he’s a patient at the moment, and you’re at work, and that’s very much frowned upon, but what can you do? You don’t meet a man like that everywhere. He looks a bit rough around the edges, but that’s part of the charm.

“I’m sure your hands are already full with that hero of the day over there, I’m good.” What. The fuck. Are you doing. John. The only chance he gets to talk to you and he’s blowing it, for fuck’s sake. He didn’t know why he said that. Maybe not to seem desperate in a very self-sabotaging way, but that’s just. Oh, John, you’re too old for playing some damn games with someone you like.

“You know what? I insist.” Your voice is lower and rougher. And when you top it off with another one of your sweet smiles and a gentle touch on his shoulder? John is a gone man. Turning into a much, a putty, if you will. God, for this perfect smile he was ready to smash and repair every single house appliance and pipe in your house.

“Alright then. Anything for you, love, lead the way.” And you did, with your hand resting softly on his back, helping him forward. John wished you would’ve been bolded with your touch, so he could feel more than just a light graze, but still. It felt good.

And then he finds himself in the back of the ambulance truck, this cramped, tiny space making him hold his breath from being so goddamn nervous in your presence. You told him to take a seat while rummaging through some cabinets and various medical bags for something. Seemingly not finding anything that you needed you spoke up to him again.

“Okay, now let me see your knee, sir.” You mumbled while kneeling in front of him, your eyes concentrated on the man. He didn’t mind you calling him sir at all. John was so used to being called that, but right now it just spread that very pleasant warm feeling inside of him.

“Well, I’m not taking my pants off. Not without a dinner first.” Price chuckled, as he tried rolling up one of his pants legs. And, well, his statement wasn’t that far from the truth. The whole deal with examination was a bit awkward to begin with, so he didn’t want to make it even worse.

“I’ll think about it, big guy.” You chuckle, as you finally start looking at his knee, small, feather-light touches sending sparks over Price’s skin. So, you enjoyed teasing him like that, huh? In combination with that nice, sweet smile? Oh, John is sold. He definitely should you invite somewhere while he still has time on his leave. But before he can open his mouth to make a brave offer you speak up again. “Looks like you have a minor sprain in here, your knee’s all swollen. I’ll apply some elastic bandages, that you’re going to have to wear for some time and redo yourself. But overall you seem to be doing good” Price couldn’t help but feel like that last remark wasn’t about his health.

“Yeah. Yeah. That’s all fine with me, love. Do what you have to.” You only nod in response, spending some time rummaging in the cupboards once again and emerging victorious with a roll of elastic bandages in your hands. You return to your previous position in front of John, and adjust his knee with a firm hand, mumbling a quiet “Hold still, please”. Oh, he’d freeze for centuries if you had asked him to. But he does, and as you wrap the bandage around his knee, which just kept pulsing with hot pain, he couldn’t help but admire you. The trained movements, the concentrated gaze, the warm touch…Maybe he really should act on his thoughts. Maybe it’s his chance. Maybe something can work out and this accidental meeting will become…something more.

Price wanted it to become something more.

His imagination ran rampant, picturing you wearing some nice and fancy, in case you do agree on a date. John totally should not be thinking this when you were right there, finally putting some finishing touches on his knee bandaging, so he forced them out of his mind and cleared his throat. Here goes nothing. But before Price can even utter a single sound you’re already being called over by your colleague. Guess he’ll just have to wait until you’re free of your duties, huh?

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banquetwriter · 1 month

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୨୧ distant love pt:3 ୨୧

pairing: Rick Grimes ♡︎ fem!Reader

warnings: ୭̥⋆*｡ daddy kink :(, sex in a forest, low-key FILTH, OOC rick bc i wrote this with later season rick n mind :(, reader being mean to rick, Grimes being a massive simp to a women who isn't his wife lol

summary: ʚ when rck asks reader to join him on a run she remembers a steamy time in the forest ɞ

Words: 1654

AN: sorry for this being late and ooc i haven't written rick enough :/

Part 2 Part 4

“Hey.” Ricks's southern drawl fills the empty air of the room. It was nice out today so most weren't hiding out in their cells. You quickly shut the book closed so as not to embarrass yourself. You clear your throat giving him a closed-off smile.

“Hey. What's up?” you ask, standing up at the prison table. Shoving your book and pencil in the little bag you carry around with you. “I uh need your help on a run. If you can manage,” he says, placing his hands on his hips.

You look down at your bag as you zip it up. “Alone?” you ask, still refusing to look up at him. Rick can't ignore the way his heart stings at your question. “No. Sasha and Daryl will be with us,” he says and you're trying to ignore the way his tongue flicks against his cheek.

‘Us.’ what a cruel joke you think.

Thoughts of Rick continue to flood your brain. The thoughts of his rough big hands tugging on your clothes like it was keeping you down.

*flashback to the quarry*

You step over a branch. Rick had not-so-subtly asked you to join him for a “run” today. This affair/relationship had been going on for a while now. Sneaking away, releasing all the pent-up anger both of you accumulated.

A twig snapped behind you. Causing you to stop dead in your tracks. You were far from camp now. No one would be able to hear you if you screamed…

Suddenly you felt big strong warm arms slithering around your waist. You gasped at the contact. “Well well, looks like I caught a pretty little thing sneaking off huh?” Rick’s familiar drawl asks, nibbling on your ear.

You let out a small giggle, moving out of his touch and spinning around. “Oh yeah? Watcha gonna do about it?” you ask, leaning in close to his face. “Officer?” you spoke the last bit in a whisper.

Your heart flutters at the smile that breaks out on his face. His beautiful face. Ugh. There go those feelings. The ones you have selfishly been keeping to yourself. He had a wife who was cheating on him. This wasn't that bad, right?

“Officer huh?” he asks with a sly smile. You nod your head, yes holding your bottom lip in between your teeth. “That's what I said!” you say with a cheery expression. “Yeah?” he asks his slow drawl practically melting your insides away.

“You know what? I might just have to arrest you for being so damn beautiful,” he says, leaning closer to you with every word. You roll your eyes at his cheesy antics.

You cross your arms as you let yourself walk away from him. You feel his eyes on your body as you start to walk away. “Where do you think you're going?” he calls after you.

You only turn around giving him a cheeky smile in response. “Oh, that's it you little brat!” he murmurs out. He jogs up behind you with a few swift motions. He grips the sides of your arms, pulling your body flush against his.

His strong dominant arms move you toward the nearest tree. It wasn't hurting you per se, but you couldn't deny the delicious amount of pressure that he gave you through his hands.

Your body collides with the tree. Rick’s hands slide down your shorts and panties in one swift movement. The air hits your wet and exposed cunt with a flutter. Rick silently grips your hips, forcing your back to arch.

“Open yer legs,” he says, hand trailing down to your clit. You whimper at the contact. “Sh sh sh.” he tuts, his rough hands slowly finding their way to your sensitive bud. You gasp as his finger slowly starts working.

You grasp the tree for support. You must admit this was not the most comfortable place to have sex, but then again who were you to judge?

You felt your knees wanting to buckle as his pace quickened. “Rick.” is all you can muster out before he slips a finger inside you. Then he slips another one. Fastly pumping in and out of you, fingers curling.

Ricks's eyes are glued to your ass. Touching and rubbing your plump skin. Wanting to spank you till you bled. Fuck you were so perfect for him. So wet and tight.

“You like that baby? You being good f’me?” he asks with a growl. Getting right up next to your ear. You don't respond only moaning as his rough fingers pump faster inside you.

With your unresponsive attitude, he completely pulls his fingers out of you. You whine at the loss of contact and orgasm denial. “Rick,” you whine out. Your hair is already starting to get messy, and sweat is forming on your figure.

“Oh no, I don't wanna hear you whining about yer daddy not giving you enough. Just flip over me,” he commands with a condescendingly sweet voice. You do as you're told slowly flip a round for him.

“There's my pretty girl,” he whispers, pulling your face in for a kiss. Both of his giant hands clasping the sides of your face. He inhales, unable to pull away from you for even a moment. The wet sloppy sounds of your tongues and lips crashing on one another.

His hands find their way to your shirt fiddling for a second to take it off. He slips it off your figure, unclasping your bra. He presses his body against yours again deepening your kiss. His kisses slowly lead down your jaw and to your neck.

They go even further as he starts to kiss and nibble at your breasts. “No marks.” you whimper out holding the back of his head, fingers curled into his hair.

“Sorry darlin’,” he says, reaching down the rest of your body. Placing wet delicate kisses down your stomach and the tops of your thighs. He looks up at you with those sweet sweet eyes. His hands push your thighs apart.

Waves of heat flood your core. He avoids kissing your cunt. Teasing and pinching the surrounding skin. “Rick, I need you,” you whisper to him. Your hands holding the back of his head.

“I know I know,” he whispers. He holstered up one of your thighs, pulling you over his shoulder. He starts with a sensual slow kiss on the top of your cunt. His lips grazed your clit.

You shuddered at the contact. You were already so worked up. It was a wonder how Rick hadn't had more lovers in life. His hands felt so experienced somehow. Rough and yet loving at the same time. God, you would have worshiped the ground he walked on if he asked.

His dark eyes peeked over your body, his tongue and lips slowly bringing back all of the pleasure that you had felt only moments ago. “Mm fuck.” you gasp out. His tongue licks wide long strides up and down your cunt.

His hand snaked around the thigh that was over his shoulder. Keeping it held there, as you started to buck your hips against his mouth and nose. The only noises were your whines that you tried not to make for fear of leading a walker to you and the lewd noises coming from below you as Rick ate you out.

You feel a tightening spread through your body. You crave the release as you moan more frequently praying to whatever god there was to let you cum all over the sheriff’s tongue.

Rick had a dark knowing look in his eyes, he could feel your walls starting to tighten on his tongue. He could feel your hot body begging him to keep going. “Rick, don't stop m gonna cum.” you whined, your body rolling down onto his mouth further.

He was nodding, begging for your precious juices to flow down his throat. His rough and warm hands on your soft body finally push you over the edge. Your head falls back on the tree, and your cunt squeezes his tongue. Your orgasm flushes through you.

Your breath slowly returns to you. Earth coming back to you. Rick pulls away from you grabbing your discarded clothes from the ground as you rest on the poor tree. He dusted them off silently guiding your body back into your clothes.

Rick Grimes was dressing you. His rough hands that were moments ago touching your hands with lust were now sweetly redressing you in clothes he ripped off. He re-ties your shorts and clasps your bra.

And all you can do is watch. This was the Rick you were falling in love with. Not the one who flipped you over to get his dick wet. The ones who protected his son to the very best he possibly could. Rick’s eyes make it to yours, brushing the shrubs that managed to find their way into your hair from the tree.

His hands clamp around your cheeks pulling you into a kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue. His hand moved to clamp on your neck so did his mouth moving down. You could feel him hungry to nibble and bite your skin.

“Rick!” you shouted pushing him off of you. “No marks,” you muttered, feeling your neck sting. Even if there weren't any hickies there had to have been a few teeth-shaped nicks.

You clenched your jaw and walked away from him continuing on your “run” with Rick. You didn't talk to him for the rest of the day. What was he thinking? Marks like that on your neck could get you caught.

*back to the present the prison*

You blinked back to reality thinking about your previous rendezvous with the man standing in front of you. Pretending like you two hadn't had an affair. “Yeah I can go with,” you mumbled. You bumped into his shoulder when you walked away making him scoff at you.

#the walking dead #rick grimes #rick grimes x original female character #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x y/n #rick grimes x you #the walking dead rick #daddy issues #daddy!rick Grimes

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eddies-house · 8 months

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Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter One - Damn Mailbox

W/C: 5K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

Relocating to the small town of Knife’s Edge in hopes of leaving your old life behind and starting brand new solves all of your problems, right? Wrong. It only creates more and one of them may live right next door. Side effects may include blaring music at 3AM, a scowling neighbor, and one too many shots of tequila on several occasions. (That The Bourbon will not be comping.)

A/N: I'm super excited to start this lil series, I've had this idea for a little while and I can never resist writing total opposites, it's just so fun to explore their dynamic when they want to reject each other so bad. Also a lot of this fic is inspired by Smoke Signals by Phoebe Bridgers (hence the name). As always I would love your feedback and any comments y’all have 🙂 OH and finally...the hugest largest biggest thank you to @uglypastels for beta reading and proof reading and all that good stuff, it was SO appreciated and really helped smooth things out ILY Z YOU'RE SO GOOD AT WHAT YOU DO 💜

Masterlist

Morning dew was like an old friend, someone you hadn’t paid attention to since childhood but felt so familiar with, so…safe. Maybe it was a little too ridiculous to find security in a few dew drops but arriving in a new town with a population of less than five hundred would have that effect. Twists and turns of windy roads unknown, trees larger than any house, and barely any infrastructure would all frazzle anyone not accustomed to its elements. Normally you wouldn’t get car sick but these roads were a beast you’d never encountered before in your life, stomach threatening to send back your lunch of tuna on white bread and a bag of Doritos. You refused to let bile even trace your tongue so with just enough self control, you swallowed any sickness down and pushed forward. Now you were hunched over in the driver’s seat, the door open as you sucked in the fresh mountain air, perfect lengthy blades of grass grazing the bottom of the door. Just before you, up the driveway made up of damp dirt, was home. A home you were a stranger to at the moment but hoped to at least become acquaintances with. Lower expectations created less disappointment. If you dive in head first, you can only guarantee yourself vulnerability and pain, slow and steady was the only pace.

It’s not permanent; you are just figuring things out.

It’s what you kept preaching to yourself during the altitude change, where flatter land transformed into large mountains, the tallest peaks coated in white. Where your ears popped and your brain felt pressure. And then shortly after, you were submerged deep into the forests, far from home, where you knew there was no going back for quite some time. It was a trial run although it didn’t feel that way when the moving truck packed with your life pulled up just minutes after you, delivering every piece of your life to some cabin in a secluded town that was nearly invisible on any map. Temporary was starting to feel foreign when everything felt more set in stone.

You’d think a town called ‘Knife’s Edge’ would steer you away and maybe that was the intent when it was first named; to ward off newcomers who had no business being out in the woods. But it only intrigued you. From what you could find out in a few tourism magazines, Knife’s Edge was not somewhere you went for a getaway, not according to the locals who were a tight knit community where everyone knew everyone. The economy relied on the small businesses down in The Village, on Main Street which according to your calculations was about five miles down the road and around the lake then up. That was the extent of knowledge you’d had on your new home and yes, maybe you should have gathered more information before daring to even place a down payment on some random cabin in the woods but when a new start calls, you either answer the phone or stare at it until nothing happens. The cabin was either yours if you paid the down payment or it would’ve been torn down and sold to the neighbor for more land which would’ve sent you on your way again, on a wild goose chase for a new place that you could fit into. Not that you were too sure that you’d even fit in here. But it seemed too obvious that this was where you were meant to be when the realtor advised that it was yours at a low down payment, a steal. So you’d try to make it work.

The moving truck’s door startled you, slamming against the top as two men got to work, unloading all your belongings. You figured this was your cue to exit your beat-up sedan to unlock the front door–wide-paneled and made of a beautiful dark oak. The crunch of pebbles and dirt alerted the movers to your presence where you let them know you were going to open up so they could begin their tedious process, one of them grumbling something incoherent in response. As you approached even closer, there were knicks and dents decorating the surface of the door but it seemed to add to the essence. The wooden steps creaked underneath your weight and upon glancing around the porch, you found two well built rocking chairs that the previous owner must have left behind. Other than that, there were pine needles and other debris from the surrounding nature caked in the corners, some scattered along the rest of the floor that would need to be swept up but it wasn’t an urgent task in comparison to actually setting up your bed and other necessities.

The lock was stubborn as you twisted the key but with one more persistent shove and turn, it clicked and you were able to push your way in, the hinges painfully squeaking as you made a mental note to pick up some WD40. The air inside was stale, smelling of dust and maybe a half hearted spritz of air freshener. Or maybe it was drenched in air freshener but it did little to nothing to cover up the smell of an old abandoned cabin; you weren’t sure. It was a modest size, the kitchen off to the right, tucked into the corner with a small island in the center. The living room was the first room you walked into from the front, the floorplan more open than you’d expected. A little to the left was a narrow hallway with shutter doors lining both sides, you assumed one side had to be the laundry. The door at the end had to be the bedroom and the door just before you embark into the hall had to be the bathroom but you had no time to explore right now.

Morning light trickled in through the kitchen window just above the stove, creating a beautiful hue against the wood paneling of the walls which you only noticed as you came back in, setting a box that was labeled ‘kitchen’ on the counter before rushing back out to retrieve more of your belongings. It was too early to be doing such strenuous work but that's what you get for securing a slot with the moving company first thing in the morning. In hindsight, you didn’t realize you were signing yourself up to meet said moving truck at 6:00 AM but in your defense, you’d never done this before.

By 7:00 AM the truck was fully unloaded and on its way out and with it went the grumpy movers, more than likely unsatisfied with the fact that they’d have to trek back down the mountain. You graciously offered them an extra twenty bucks which they gladly took but still appeared crabby nonetheless. Now for the part you had been dreading the most: unpacking each box and putting everything in its respective place. But first, you wanted to take it all in. You were right; the laundry was on the left side of the hall behind the shutter door and on the other side was a closet. The bedroom was settled right where you had guessed, at the end of the hall and rather than being empty, it now held your bed and mattress, sheets still yet to be found among the boxes labeled ‘bedroom’ in thick sharpie. The wallpaper was something you could do without but maybe you’d find time to peel it off later and replace it with something more to your taste. Currently the bedroom walls were lined with floral designs and pale blue stripes and if you could be honest, the design was a bit too busy for your liking. But it was a roof over your head for a good price so complaining was out of the equation.

At the opposite end of the hall, just off the living room was the bathroom, sporting a less off putting wallpaper of faded yellow and white vertical stripes. You first ensured your hygiene essentials were in place, toothbrush and toothpaste in a glass on the sink, towels on the rack, and soaps set up in the shower including shampoo, conditioner, and bar of Dove. Having these accessible was a priority, cleanliness being one of the most important factors of your daily routine.

Clothes were next and you’d forgotten a box in your trunk of your most worn items of clothing that you could pick through until you were fully settled. Lazily carrying yourself back to the driveway where your maroon sedan sat on top of the copper-toned dirt, you do a double take when you realize your mailbox was taken out, wood splintering out of the ground as the poor box lays among the grass at the edge of the street. From what you could remember, it was fully intact when you first drove up so you’re forced to conclude that the movers you’d tipped generously must have run it over and not given it a second thought.

The half of the mailbox that rested on the ground was a lot heavier than it looked and you would’ve thought it was made of cement just by the weight. You felt pathetic dragging it up the driveway, creating a prominent line in the dirt along the way. A brief break in getting the damn thing up to your porch has you about half way up the driveway, glancing around at your surroundings, only to finally take into account that you had a neighbor relatively close by, a cabin similar to yours only a few hundred yards away except it was a darker wood and a red pickup sat idle in front of it.

You braced yourself, catching your breath to continue hauling the mailbox back until you can figure out how to repair it when your eyes catch on figure, a man making his way down the steps of the cabin you’d just been analyzing. And you’re quick to shy away until you realize he’d already been looking at you, a cocky grin on his face as he slowly, almost tauntingly stepped off his porch. The way he walked closer reminded you of a lion declaring its territory, especially with the mane of curls he had, shaggy and brunette. He wasn’t close enough to allow you to examine any further; however, you caught the click of his tongue before he spoke.

“Gonna get splinters draggin’ wood around like that.”

It’s all he says, a toothpick between his teeth before he turns on his heel, combat boot digging into the soil and it’s only then that you realize he wasn’t offering assistance, he was simply picking up the hose connected to his spigot to rinse off his windshield which now that he’d drawn attention to it, was filthy with mud and leaves. He wore a red and black flannel which reminded you of a lumberjack but this man just didn’t fit that description based on your short interaction with him. Or rather his interaction with you. Your first indication was that he had no facial hair; he was clean-shaven. And his tight jeans that had black rips at the knees didn’t seem very suitable for a job that required a larger range of motion.

Without any further acknowledgement of your existence, he hopped in his truck and sped off around the bend without a care in the world. He was a resident douchebag and you’d never even spoken a word to him. You quickly realized you were still stood in the middle of the driveway with half a mailbox, grunting in protest as you lugged it the rest of the way up to the porch, leaning it against the railing for future contemplation on how to repair it or if you’d have to fork up money for a brand new one. That was a problem for future you and though future you would be pissed at past you for putting the responsibility on her, you had other things to sort out such as unpacking the rest of the kitchen so you’d be able to actually use it to feed yourself. And then of course you’d have to make your way into town a ways down the road to actually get groceries because not a crumb of anything edible was packed. Aside from a bag of Chex Mix that sat in the passenger seat of your car that you’d picked up at a gas station.

–

Going overboard was an understatement when it came to how much you’d actually gotten done. By 12:00 PM you almost had each room unpacked and put away, moving boxes discarded next to the front door to be thrown out later. Your plan was to finish off the kitchen and then go into town. Instead you finished the kitchen and moved from room to room with more motivation than you’d ever experienced in your life. Maybe it was the adrenaline of living alone, no one else could tell you what to do or where to put things. It was all up to you and maybe you were a little drunk off that power. Regardless, you were now worn out and that energy didn’t last very long. At least you had a freshly made bed for when you came back, that’s what you would reward yourself with.

If you go grocery shopping then you can come back and nap.

There were still various projects to be done, items to be organized, and objects without a home but for the most part, you could sleep peacefully with the work you’d done today. The floors were yet to be cleaned and the fridge still needed a good scrub down but that could wait until tonight after you properly refueled.

Humming to some song you’d heard on the radio earlier, you make your way out the door, patting your pockets for your keys and wallet, both of which you had before locking up and heading for the car. You rolled your eyes passing the mutilated mailbox, settling into the driver’s seat with an ache in your back from the grueling labor in the early hours of the morning. Shifting into drive and then rapidly back to park, you remember that these roads are foreign to you and that you could easily get lost and possibly become a bear’s lunch with your luck. With a tug, the glove box opens and reveals the map you had set in it before embarking on our journey. The map that was mailed to you of the town didn’t seem very complicated. But if you happened to make a wrong turn it could land you amongst some rocky cliffs which you thought better to stay away from. So you carefully examined the route to town, what the people here seemed to call The Village Square. You took the liberty of drawing your house on the map, a cute little doodle in blue gel pen and then proceeding to draw the rest of the route in the same blue so you’d always have it.

This was it. A fresh start where no one knew your name. This would be good for you. At least that's what you kept trying to convince yourself.

Goodbye someone else’s daughter and hello new self-made woman.

–

You weren’t lost. You were just…exploring.

Okay, you were a little lost but the signs for The Village Square kept passing you by and yet you found yourself also passing the same exact pine trees–and you knew they were the same pine trees because every time you saw them you thought ‘hey that kinda looks like a dog’. At some point it started to feel as if you were spawning in and out of some dimension until you finally turned into a lot directly behind one of the signs, sick of this game of hide and seek. There were no signs for parking which is why you’d passed by so many times in the first place, and now it seemed like you were behind a restaurant of some kind. This couldn’t be where everyone parked, right? Anxiety was pooling in your stomach and before you could sike yourself out, you ultimately decided to park and walk from here. You would only be a few minutes and hopefully you’d be able to muster up the courage to ask someone where to park from now on, even if it did make you seem like an idiot.

Leaves crunched under your sneakers, an obvious indication of the Fall season trickling one leaf at a time. As if you were a wary animal, you cautiously walked around the building, finding that it was someplace called The Bourbon; the letters written out in neon red lights that weren’t yet illuminated, the open sign in the window dull signifying they were closed. You let your eyes roam up and down the street, small businesses lined up all the way through and a few patrons, clearly with an agenda making their way along the sidewalks. It was a cute place, nestled in a little valley. Instead of plain old cement the sidewalks were cobblestone and overall it seemed to be a pedestrian oriented community with several cross walks and barely any traffic.

From here you had no idea how to get to Marvin’s Grocery, which seemed to be one of the only produce stores around according to your map. The others were a little more out of the way, your house conveniently only around five miles away from The Village Square. The shops you passed as you attempted to gain a sense of direction were exquisite. Mom-and-pop shops that either smelled of delicious baked goods or hunger-inducing aromas that filled your nostrils with savory goodness. The smell would haunt you in the best way for days to come. A candle shop piqued your interest, as well as a flower shop that bloomed so beautifully among the muted tones of the brick buildings around it.

Everything was so unlike what you were used to, back home things were more commercialized, built for quantity not quality. Here it seemed to be the polar opposite which you could appreciate. Corporations were the root of all evil and you had yet to see one single corporation among the several businesses you passed so far. People seemed friendly but also confused by your presence, offering you a meaningful wave accompanied by a puzzled expression written on every face you encountered. You were a stranger and it was becoming more apparent the deeper you found yourself in the square. Some people whispered and you happened to snag onto a few words, mostly grasping ‘is she new?’. In return, you graced them with a polite smile. It wasn’t like you to initiate small talk or approach new friendships. If they happened, they happened per the other party’s account, not yours, never one to try and stand out in the crowd only making this infinitely more uncomfortable for you, which was no one’s fault other than your own insecurity.

Eventually you were able to come face to face with the giant ‘Marvin’s Grocery’ sign which looked to be handpainted in big white letters outlined in black with a few cartoony carrots, a tomato, and a head of lettuce. Wandering around for an extra ten minutes and refusing to ask for help certainly wasn’t ideal but it did familiarize you with the shops you would soon be buying from on the regular. And it did give you a soft introduction to the small population of Knife’s Edge which despite the name, the people seemed lovely enough.

The store wasn’t the slightest bit crowded and it wasn’t very large either. A mother and her two kids skimmed one of the aisles while an older man pondered over the produce, apples specifically. Grabbing a cart, you begin gathering the items you had sorted out on a list in your head. First bananas, grapes, and blueberries, you didn’t want to bother with too much produce as it went bad fast and you were only one person so those would do for now. Then you moved on to pantry essentials, canned goods that you could stock up on and always have on hand. Green beans, corn, peas, baked beans, even soups such as tomato, cream of mushroom, and the standard chicken noodle.

You’d built up a cart full in no time, and by then, no one else was around so you noted that this time would be perfect to get your shopping done in the future so as to avoid as many people as possible. The cashier was a woman, probably in her early sixties who seemed not all that intimidating which you were grateful for. She smiles warmly and you appreciate the sentiment, grinning back at her as you place each item at the register.

“You’re new. But I bet you’ve already had an earful of that, haven’t you?” She lightly teases.

You laugh softly, avoiding eye contact while still trying to remain well mannered, taking notice in small glances that the woman’s name tag reads Donnie in bold red letters as well as the ‘help wanted’ sign perched up against the window. She seems friendly, a little rough around the edges though in the sense that she had several tattoos that disappeared into the rolled up sleeve of her blue crewneck sweater as well as a fire in her icy blue eyes. You could already guess that she was quite the character.

“Don’t let them scare you off.” Donnie carefully bags the eggs with a few more light items, her confidence radiating, as if she doesn’t even need to try, as if it just comes to her so naturally. Something you could only wish for every once in a blue moon. “We don’t get many newbies. They’ll get it outta their system.” Her voice is a tad scratchy but smooth otherwise, bringing a strange sense of comfort.

“Thank you.” A mouse may as well have been louder than you but you tried and that’s what counts, right? New people were not your thing but they would have to become your thing, moving to a place where no one knew you existed and all. Or maybe you could fly under the radar? It couldn’t hurt to become the mysterious outsider that spoke to no one although it wasn’t a very realistic ambition.

This was fucked. You thought to yourself in the solitude of your brain. Of course the second thoughts were coming now and not before you bought the damn property that tied you to this place. Initially, the idea was a temporary situation far from home but the deeper you delved into this town, the more permanent it started to feel. Not just anyone up and moved here and that was clear by the reaction you pulled from several onlookers. And yet you moved here, bought that damn cabin with the money left to you from your father’s estate, and ultimately, left everything you knew in a manic state. A mid life crisis in your early twenties.

“Miss, your change.” The woman broke through your thoughts and you must have shifted into autopilot, not even remembering handing her any money in the first place.

“S-sorry.” You mutter, collecting the filthy coins in your palm, shoving them into the front pocket of your jeans which you knew would be a pain to dig out later but again, that was an issue for future you. She hated your guts.

“No prob–”

It was abrupt, your exit but despite your rude departure, she called out “I’m Donnie!” and you never felt like a shittier person. She was welcoming you to her home and you didn’t even have the decency to introduce yourself. That’s how it looked at least, on the inside you were panicking and needed to isolate yourself immediately.

You must have looked like a maniac carrying your groceries in a near sprint toward the direction of your car. Everyone else seemed to move at such a mellow pace, not a single vein close to popping out of stress whereas you looked like you’d crumble under the slightest inconvenience. Which you would if you didn’t get to the car fast enough. A small misstep causing you to trip? No chance, you wouldn’t show your face again for weeks. Your groceries spilling all over the pavement because of said possible misstep? You would consider moving all over again.

Thankfully the majority of the walk back to the little lot behind one of many businesses was blacked out, your heart practically pumping in your ear the whole time. What you couldn’t black out from was the man-the same man from this morning smoking a cigarette as he stared at your car. Fear drenched you; you couldn’t gauge his expression with his back to you but you could guess he wasn’t going to be smiling with the way he was lingering, shuffling his boots back and forth in contemplation.

Announcing yourself felt like the most daunting task in the world, humiliation melting into your skin like an uncomfortable burn. Maybe some higher power heard your pathetic struggle because the crunch of your sneaker on a perfectly placed leaf called his attention to you, his head snapping in your direction instantly.

The urge to just run was strong but you maintained whatever cool was left within you, fingers waving at him weakly.

His expression was blank, unreadable. He didn’t say a word as you slowly inched your way closer to the vehicle, only eyeing your every movement like a predator protecting his territory, much like he did that same morning. The closer view of his face showcased his stoic yet soft features, eyes almost puppy dog-like but something glazed over them, a facade of some kind. Something that overtook the puppy dog nature they were capable of and replaced them with a cruel glare. The shape of his nose was endearing at least, rounded at the tip and tinted pink from the cold.

“You just park anywhere you want where you’re from?” He asks, gesturing vaguely with a tip of his cigarette toward the car.

Your shaky breath has him furrowing his brows at you, seemingly offended. It’s not in your nature to offend people but you can’t seem to stop doing it, especially today whether you mean to or not. But you definitely don’t think you mean to.

“N-no, ‘m sorry.”

“Sorry?” He mocks, scoffing before inhaling a puff of smoke once more.

“I-I uh, I’m leaving. It won’t happen again.” You rush out, all the while forcing yourself not to cry. “I just–I couldn’t find parking–I was driving around and—there was no–I couldn’t–”

“Don’t let it happen again.” He warns, stern but easing up on his intense demeanor.

“Promise.” You whisper, a tear betraying you and rolling down your cheek to which you quickly gather your grocery bags in one hand to swat away at your cheek. It’s too late, he already saw.

No empathy is detected in his stare, not that you feel you deserve any. It was just an observation. “Now, get out of my lot.” It’s a demand, a non-negotiable demand that if you were brave enough to argue, would probably have him towing your shitty little sedan.

So you nod, blinking back the water works as best you could while tossing your groceries into the passenger seat, him watching the whole time. With your seatbelt suddenly feeling like the most complicated thing in the world, you expect to look up and meet pure rage but instead your ears perk up at a few knocks on the window. Rolling it down as fast as possible with the manual handle, the man stands towering over you, cigarette abandoned sometime in between you getting in the car and struggling to remember how a seatbelt works. Did he have more choice words for you for illegally parking on what he deemed ‘his lot’? You really didn’t want to stick around to find out but you had no choice.

“Left on Main. Then right on Cherry.” His dark eyes hinted at hues of warm honey but they were briskly dismissed by his cold attitude.

“What?”

“Next time. So you don’t turn into my damn lot again.”

You still didn’t know what he meant by ‘his lot’ and you didn’t have the backbone to ask. You did however fully get the message that you were to never park here again and were now aware of which streets to search for to avoid it at all costs. You’d memorize every detail of it if it meant you could steer clear of the apathetic man before you. With a nervous nod, you were off, not once looking back just as he did that morning except he had more grit in his actions, you just came off as a scared church mouse. You never even caught his name and you didn’t mind not knowing it at this rate seeing as he was all bite and bark for no good reason.

This place never felt so far from home. Nowhere was home. Your heart was in a sense homeless, lost and longing for the connections that these people had with each other that you couldn’t seem to tap into even if your life depended on it. In all fairness, it had only been a few hours and you couldn’t gauge your success based on that but it was tugging on your brain like a parasite, eating away at your final optimistic thoughts.

I don’t belong here.

I don’t fit in.

The drive ‘home’ was flooded with tears and muffled sobs into your now sticky sleeve, coated in snot and if anyone were to pass you along the way you would look psychotic with how your face scrunched up at every exhale, doing your best to keep yourself quiet despite being the only one in the car. You were always doing your best. Always to please others. And it never worked.

~end~

Masterlist

tags - @gravedigginbbydoll @ohauggieo @spicysix @lunatictardis @ali-r3n @batkin028 @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @emma77645

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson angst #bartender!eddie #eddie munson au #bartender!eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction

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leilani-lily · 2 months

Text

~Oh Deer~ (Chapter 1)

... So this idea for an Alastor x reader (kinda?) story popped in my brain, and has refused to leave me no matter how hard I try.

Have I written fanfiction recently? Hell no.

Do I even know how to write for an AroAce character? No but I'm gonna do my damndest to represent him properly (and also relying on outer sources so I'm not offending anyone).

Do I feel like a complete fool for being sucked back into the fanfiction world and re-entering with a freakin Hazbin Hotel fic? ABSOOOO-FREAKIN-LUTELY.

But here we are. The writing gods have spoken. And they have declared that I write this story out so my poor brain can focus on other things like work.

Figured I'd share so it's just not on my computer all lonely. Will be a slow burn so fair warning. Let's be real, the deer boi needs love. But not overly romantic love. Just, someone he ends up really caring about and becoming his favourite.

SYNOPSIS: AroAce! Alastor x Chef!Singer! Reader. The hotel is looking to hire a chef to prepare meals for the staff/guests. Somehow you're hired and you begin your new life. And somehow end up becoming close to a certain Radio Demon. Word Count: 1.8 K

Chapter 1 under the cut. Enjoy I guess? ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Ok, deep breaths y/n. Remember to smile.

You felt your lips curl up into a strained grin as if to fight off the nerves in your chest, your grip tightening on the flyer in your fist. This could go either two ways. One, you get the job and are able to live a life of somewhat normality. Or two, you get hung from the tippy top of the building by your own intestines. With your legs chopped off. And one of your arms sticking out of your ass.

Gotta love Hell and it’s creative subjects.

You shake your head out of those terrible thoughts, surely it wouldn’t be that bad?? When you saw the original broadcast on the 666 News, you couldn’t stop thinking how nice the Princess of Hell actually was. And building an entire hotel to help her subjects reform into something better was, perhaps a little optimistic in your opinion, but it made you admire her gumption and her love for her subjects.

So later when you found the flyer in search of a chef at the very same establishment the princess was hoping to fill… well, it somehow managed to get you all the way here. Standing at the doorsteps of the very lonely looking hotel on the hill.

You had to admit it wasn’t the look you had imagined, but hey, this was Hell. You had seen worse. And everyone has to start somewhere. Including yourself, arm still poised ready to knock yet not yet making the motion.

You felt so stupid, you had been standing here for almost 10 minutes now just trying to get the courage to enter the damn building. You sigh to yourself and shake out the jitters. Alright, let’s just do this. Once again, you smile, puff out your chest and raise your arm high in the air, ready to strike with a newfound courage.

“Well folks, looks like the little lady is finally ready to take the leap! Will she follow through with her actions? Or will she choke and back out of the fight? Let’s tune in and find out~”

You felt your heart nearly leap out of your chest as you whip your head around to look behind you. A tall demon clad in red and ruby eyes stood behind you, a wickedly wide grin filling his face as he points what appears to be a microphone in your direction. You stare at it dumbly, then make eye contact with him again. He remains poised, half lidded eyes seeming to hold a sparkle of impish joy. His eyes flicker from you, to your raised arm, and back to you. After a embarrassingly long time of connecting the dots, you finally extend your arm closer to the door, never breaking focus on the demon behind you (you can't help but notice he raises his microphone even closer to you), and give the door a good solid knock.

“AND SHE’S DONE IT FOLKS, what a display!!” He pulls the microphone back to himself, as you continue to stare dumbfounded “The form, the elegance, it could almost make a grown Imp cry. Let's give her a hand people.” He begins to clap as a roar of applause plays from… somewhere.

You couldn’t tell if this guy was being sarcastic or genuine, but the whole absurdity of it all, plus the bundle of nerves you were feeling earlier, seemed to bubble up inside of you and you couldn't help a little snort escape. The red demon’s grin widened as he ceases his clapping, stepping closer to you as you continue to giggle.

“Ahhh now isn’t that better. A much nicer smile than the one you were faking earlier. Besides, there’s no need to be so shy my dear. This hotel is always happy to accept wayward demons looking for reformation!”

Upon hearing his words, you turn to face him and put your hands up “Oh nono, I’m not here to-”

“Ohoho~! and what’s this you have here?” Before you can finish your sentence, the tall demon ripped the flyer out of your hand and inspected it quickly, before turning back to you. His half-lidded gaze was now round with surprise, his grin becoming even wider (which you didn’t even think was possible).

“So THAT explains the nerves from before! And here I was just thinking you were a timid little thing. But a business woman! Now that I can admire.” He smiles at you almost impressed and leans in closer, your noses almost touching.

“Tell me my dear, can you make a good jambalaya? Or perhaps a hearty gumbo with cornbread on the side~?”

You were so flustered with the speed of everything happening (plus the close proximity of this demon you had just met certainly didn’t help). All you could manage was a jumbled “Uhh, well yes I-!”

“WONDERFULLLL~!" He straightens up again and you sigh with relief. “I’ll be sure to test you on such skills. But for now we should-”

The front doors of the hotel suddenly burst open and a short gray female stands before you, with long silvery hair and an eyepatch. She looks at you for a moment, before turning her gaze at the red demon and giving him a scowl.

“Alastor, what the HELL took you so long, you should’ve been back ages ago. And quit creeping out new potential clients.” Her gaze adverts back to you, expression softening ever so slightly, “Seriously, if he’s bothering you-” “Oh Vaggie my dear, no need to be so hostile. I was simply going over business with our newest chef!” he brings his long fingers up behind your shoulder and pulls you in close against his chest, making you yelp a moment before regaining composure. You could sense this so-called 'Vaggie' demon tense, eyes flickering between the two of you. You felt as if your brain was sputtering to catch up with the current conversation (he WORKS here??!) before finally realizing what he had just called you. You sneak a look at him, and he gives you a quick wink before focusing back on the female before him.

“Now be a doll and have Nifty tidy up one of the rooms, preferably one of a reasonable size and close to the kitchen. And call upon Charlie as well, she’ll DEFINITELY want to meet our newest addition!”

The female in front of you shot a glare at Alastor (you quickly noted these two did not seem to get along), but then flicked her gaze back at you. After a moment, she sighed and turned back into the building as she followed the male demon’s orders. You couldn’t help but notice how Alastor’s grip on you tightened ever so slightly as a chuckle escaped his lips, static humming ever so louder in amusement. He himself began to walk into the hotel, guiding you along with him.

"Now then. We’ll have to introduce you to everyone, as well as get you to fill in the proper paperwork, give you a proper tour of the place and-!”

“Wait wait,” you stop walking, causing him to halt. You notice a slight twitch in his eye and his hand squeezes you for a moment. He doesn’t like to be interrupted, duly noted. You take a breath.

“Sorry, uh for interrupting” That seemed to please him. “But does this mean… I got the job?? You don’t need a resume or a test or…?”

Alastor let out a guffaw of amusement “Why of course my dear! As long as you remain true to your word of being able to cook a good New Orleans dish, that’s all the proof I’ll need! There hasn’t been many a demon coming here interested in the job, so I say your timing couldn’t be more perfect!”

Well that was the easiest damn interview you’ve ever done. You felt yourself exhale a sigh of relief as you smile up to the tall demon.

“Wow, that’s… that’s amazing, thank you so much.” He gave you a half lidded smirk, clearly enjoying being praised “So… does this make you my boss, Mr…?”

You heard the sound of a record screech as his eyes widened in surprise. Hand finally leaving your shoulder and placing it on his own chest he began to laugh heartilly, a laugh track playing in the background. You stood there confused for a moment before he finally responded.

“Ohhh my goodness me, my mother would be rolling in her grave if she ever heard about this. How rude of me to be so forward without properly introducing myself!” One minute he was standing right beside you, and then the next he had sunken like a shadow into the floor, only to appear in front of you a few steps ahead. With grace and suave you didn’t realize he possessed, he gave a small hand flourish before bowing in front of you.

“I am Alastor, also known as the Radio Demon. I happen to be the Hotel’s Facility Manager, but you’ll find Miss Morningstar is the real ringleader around here,” You notice the corner of his lip twitch at that last remark, but you pay no mind to it. “If you ever have any questions or concerns, do not hesitate to reach out to me.” You smile and dip yourself in your own little curtsy as he straightens up.

“My name is y/n, and I’ll be sure to do my best to serve you and this hotel, sir.” Alastor seemed to hum with approval as he looks down at you. “I guess I just have one more question for you, if that’s alright.”

“Why of course dear y/n, whatever would it be?”

“Well, I uh…” You feel yourself becoming flustered at the question, and the radio demon seemed to notice. Cocking a head to the side, he takes a step forward, opening his arms into a friendly gesture.

“Come now dearest, you can ask me anything! If we’re going to be working together, we have to be honest with each other~” You look up at him and sigh, knowing he was right. With a gulp you straighten your back and wear a serious expression.

“How long did you see me standing by the door?”

Alastors face didn’t waver, it was hard to tell what was going on in his mind. Then his smile grew into what looked like an amused, smug expression before answering.

“The whole time.”

You groaned and felt your head slap against your hand, making Alastor burst into laughter yet again at your expense. He was there watching the entire time?? Satan’s Ass you felt like such an idiot. Was he waiting for you to move so he could get in the building?? The more you thought about it the more you wanted to sink into the floor and die, for a 2nd time. The radio demon wiped a stray tear from his eye.

“Ohhhh y/n, what a riot you are. I can already tell that this is going to be fun~”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

First chapter hoorayyy ♡〜٩( ˃▿˂ )۶〜♡ Not sure how often I'll be updating, hopefully soon as I'm currently inspired. Thanks for reading thus far!FIRST (You're here!) PREVIOUS (Doesn't exist ( • ᴗ - ) ✧) NEXT

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #oh deer #leilani-lily

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sugar-plum-writer · 29 days

Text

A Heian Era Affair

Parings: GojoSatrou!ModernEra x FemReader!HeianEra! Tags: Fem!Reader; Gojo!imagines; slight!mention of violence; Chaos; 18+ as more chapters come; slow burn [I want to have a good build up~ just like my Sukuna series fic~]; An ancient Japan romance through time with reader A/n: Sorry for not putting out any updates or fics for almost a month! T~T I was busy with college and sem exams! but they are finally over so yay!!!!

[If you all like it, please heart and reblog the post! to know you want to read more~ and follow for chapter updates! or leave a comment to tag you when I put out new chapters~ I will do my best to roll out UPDATES ASAP!]

@elernity @derpykirb here is the update! ^-^

CHAPTER - 3

The sunlight basked in the small wooden house, the morning dew shimmered as the birds chirped in a lovely tune, a better alarm clock than what Gojo was used to

"Don't wash clothes like that! if you use too much strength it will rip apart!"

"I am trying god damn it!"

Wiping the sweat from his forehead he scrubbed the clothes, you guided him as you sat beside him, your hair tied up in a bun sweating yourself.

"How did humans survive this!?" he groaned

As he and you continued washing the clothes you heard a scream from him

"Ah shit!-", he bit his lip

"Oh lord what happened!?", hurriedly you took his hand and your eyes widened as blood dripped from his wrist

"This is bad wait let me get medicine!"

"Wait-"

Before he could say anything you had already left

"I can use RCT…" he whispered words barely audible as he watched you running

After some seconds he saw you holding a wooden box

"You truly are useless and cannot even wash clothes properly! How can you even call yourself the strongest!?" you nagged him as you cleaned up his wounds and bandaged him up

"Oh sorry I am not used to washing clothes using ancient methods near rivers am I?!", he argued back as the yelling continued

Unknown to you the moment you bandaged him up he had used RCT to heal it within seconds

"Phew that should do it…let's just hope you don't get an infection if you do even I cannot save your life"

Hearing your words he has never been happier to be able to use RCT

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Y/n!" a lady rushed screaming your name, causing both you and Gojo to finally stop nagging each other

"Who is she?" he whispered

"Just my neighbor, an aunty my mother knew"

"I see... I guess aunts are the same every era..."

"Oh my god, you did not tell me you got married!?" she yelped as she saw Gojo beside you

"I am not married okay!?" freaking out you tried your best to refuse her words

"What do you mean not married!? oh~ he is your boyfriend~" She nudged you and smirked as she walked towards Gojo who was screaming internally looking at you desperately for help

"He is n-!"

"Greetings! My name is Sumi Tachibana, I am Y/n's neighbor!"

Cutting you off she looked at Gojo smiling brightly

"My name is Gojo Satoru it's nice to meet you too", he smiled putting his hand out to shake her hands

"Oh~ how bold to flirt with me in front of your future wife! I am married so sorry~" she chuckled bashfully

"Huh…?", he looked at her then at you confused

"Aunty! What brought you here?" you stood between her and Gojo shielding him

"Oh right! I came to tell you the village has decided to host a festival next week so be sure to come!" she smiled warmly and left after chatting a little longer

"Flirting…what crazy conclusion is that!?" Gojo looked at you dumbstruck

"See I don't know what you knew previously but to put your hand forward to a lady after just meeting her gives the wrong signals alright" You looked at him and sighed

"Ancient times sure are crazy…"

"Oh god…" groaning you lowered your head

"What's the matter?" he looked at you

"She is now gonna tell everyone in the village that we are in a relationship"

He looked at you even more stunned than before, things were progressing too fast his brain felt fried. He realized just how big of a deal it was for him and you to be together in ancient times

"I guess…we gotta pretend to be in one"

"Do you know the significance of what you are saying!?" you looked at him shocked

"What? it's just a relationship~ I have been in many! my experience is over the charts dear" he smirked playfully as he looked at you

Link to Masterlist!

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isa-ghost · 1 month

Note

If you're still doing Philza headcannons, how about some specifically about Phil, Chayanne, and Tallulah? I miss the kiddos...

qPhil headcanons masterlist

(NOT) SINGLE DAD EDITION LETS GO

Those two are the light of his fucking life ok. If you were someone that had something against him, they're how you get to him. They're how you hurt him. He will do ANYTHING for them. He'll kill his friends, he'll fly on broken wings, he'll die for them. Nothing matters more than those two kids.

He's not typically a very physically affectionate person. But to the kids? Suddenly he's a cuddler. Suddenly he's head kisses and carrying them on his hip just because he can. Suddenly he's braiding hair and painting nails and playfully tormenting them with tickles. They flip a switch in his brain.

Nothing could ever make him waver on how proud of them he is. Both of them. Chayanne so brave and strong, stressed to the teeth like his dad but persevering like a true warrior. Tallulah is so loving and open, even in the face of so much pain and adversity. She's been through so much, largely alone, and yet she still has the strength to smile and be silly after everything. Ideally he wishes they would've never experienced any pain at all, but Quesadilla says Damn You All

Chayanne & Tallulah can make him laugh until his stomach hurts, and they can do it faster than friends he's known for YEARS. Tallulah especially is the queen of comedic nonverbal timing. All it takes is a certain look with a slow turn after Phil says something stupid and he's Dying.

His favorite thing is when either of them fall to pieces emote bc smth stupid happened. Or whenever they Orange Justice after smth fucked happens.

Listen. LISTEN. Don't be fooled by this man. He LOVES adventures with the kids. He loves them. The reason he refuses to venture out with them or go dungeon raiding with them super often is because survivalist brain is like if the worst happens, the Feds do not have your back. If you lose the kids you have nothing much to live for on this island. Do not risk their lives, even if it sounds fun.

He fucking loves watching the kids talk to the other eggs. The constant taptaptaptaptap of signs being placed while they chat together makes him giggle. He also loves watching them just crouch and silently communicate.

Dude Rose's love for the two of them makes his heart so full. Like legit the first time she told him "they're under my protection" he nearly cried. And not just from relief that they'd be safe from EK.

And related: Oh my GOD does he fucking love the term "fledglings" for them. It's SO CUTE. Rose was so right for that. Something about it drives home the thought of "these are MY kids" even more. He just 🥺

Chayanne's mask reminds him of Techno's boar one sometimes and it makes him wanna cry /pos. If Chayanne ever mentions being guided by Techno's spirit to fight EK Phil will never recover

He loves this "new era" of Tallulah, between her cutting her hair short a while back and now dying it + changing her hat. It feels like she's getting more independent despite everything and considering Phil used to have to Really hover around her to help her out, he's the world's proudest papa about it

He's told them stories about all the hardcore gods (that he knows of) at this point. Rose bc ofc he did. EK bc he kinda had to. The others bc at this point he's expecting them to poke their heads around at one point or another too. Chayanne loves Blaze. Tallulah still loves Rose the most. She's gone on a rant about "Papa how the fuck is Ocean Overlord a god when he fumbles things so badly???" He wishes he knew, Tallulah.

He wants to take them on a flight so bad it hurts. Literally. He's more angry EK fucked up his wings maybe permanently bc he robbed them of that than he is that EK did it to spite him.

He really really really hopes they do hatch some day and become lil dragon hybrids bc then he can watch them fly and teach them how to do it well (the best he can while he's grounded) (he might get a little envious)

He fucking LOVES sparring with the kids. He goes easy bc he's insanely skilled and experienced compared to Two Literal Children but they catch on and improve So Quick and it makes him so unbelievably proud and excited to see them demonstrate their skills in a real (hopefully non-lethal) situation.

#qsmp #qsmp philza #philza #q!philza #qsmp chayanne #qsmp tallulah #q!chayanne #q!tallulah #chayanne the egg #tallulah the egg #qphil headcanons

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lunajay33 · 5 days

Text

The Day Will Come

Summary: Going out to help bring Maggie to the hilltop ends up with you and the others on your knees infront of Negan, you’re one of his victims everyone thinks you’re dead until you wake up in hilltop

Daryl Dixon x f!reader

Warning: Gore

•Masterlist•

Daryl had ran out with Glenn and Rosita going to try and stop him, I desperately wanted to go after him aswell but Maggie needed me, I’m her sister after all and I could tell she was extremely sick and if Glenn wasn’t here I needed to be

The rest of us loaded in the RV and were off the hilltop, I was sat in the back with Maggie holding her against me hoping it might help knowing I’m here to protect her

“You’ll be okay sis, we will get you there” he whispered as I ran my hand up and down her back

“I’m scared”

“I know……..” in all honesty I has just as scared, I didn’t wanna lose her or this baby

The RV slowed to a stop confusing us

“Damn it…….its the saviours” Rick groaned instructing Abraham to back up and take another road

This happened over and over again, there was no getting away from them, finally we had to go on foot, having Maggie on a makeshift bed so she didn’t have to walk

My heart was in my ears she was getting worse and my anxiety was at its peek, something was going to happen out here and it’s nothing good, the saviours are after us

As if on cue bright lights flickered on as whistles of the saviours surrounded us, placing us in a line up I was at the end next to Michonne, Maggie was shaking, everyone was scared that’s when they brought out Rosita, Glenn and……Daryl, he was in bad shape, covered in blood, they shoved him down next to me and it was hard not to reach out to him but I couldn’t take my eyes off him the tears streaming down my face, he was shaking obviously in pain

“Let’s bring out the big guy” and out came Negan, swinging around his bat embedded with barbed wire, after his whole speech about how it’s only right to take one of us out considering we killed a whole group of his and that’s when the counting started

“Enie” Carl

“Meenie” Sasha

“Miney” Rick

“Moe” Michonne

“Catch” Me

“A tiger” Daryl

“By” Glenn

“His toe” Rosita

“If” Abraham

“He hollers” Eugene

“Let him go” Aaron

He kept going picking us at random as he pointed his bat at us

“My mother” Maggie

“Told me” Carl

“To pick” Me

“The very” Rosita

“Best” Sasha

“One” Rick

“And you” Daryl

“Are” Glenn

He looked around at everyone of us until he stood infront of Abraham

“It” Abraham rose on his knees starring him down just like he always did

“Anybody moves, anybody says anything, cut the boy's other eye out and feed it to his father, and then we'll start, You can breathe, You can blink…..You can cry, Hell, you're all gonna be doing that”

His bat came down hard on Abraham splattering blood all over Michonne and Maggie

“Suck my nuts” Abraham slurred out

Negan kept going over and over and over until there was nothing left of his head except a mush of brain and skull, everyone was crying Sasha and Rosita losing someone they loved on another level

He stood infront of Rosita placing his bat full of blood and Abraham infront of her

“Oh dear were you two a thing…….take a look”

She refused obviously traumatized

“LOOK AT IT”

Daryl shot up punching Negan square in the face

“DARYL NO!” I screamed as the other men pinned him down next to me

“Now, I don't know what kind of lying assholes you've been dealing with... but I'm a man of my word, First impressions are important I need you to know me, So... back to it” his bat was up again coming down on Glenn, my heart stopped hearing the painful heartbroken scream come from Maggie, Glenn was like my brother

They were dead two of us were gone so quickly and painfully, I watched as Glenn was pulverized someone who was so dear to me, who was next the sight made me sick, I leaned forward throwing up all over the ground running down my legs

“Look at this….so weak, now I said y’all could cry and scream but now I didn’t say you could go and make a mess here, gotta pay for that” he said as he kneeled infront of me

“No please please no” I cried I couldn’t die not yet I still had so much left to do with my family with Daryl this couldn’t be the end

“Relax darling, you’re gonna get a different punishment

“Don’t ya touch her” Daryl growled from beside me

“Oh is she yours” all Daryl did was look between me and Negan with a scared look I’ve barely ever seen

“Even better” I felt hands on my shoulders dragging me forward infront of the group looking back to see other men holding Daryl down

“Please I’m sorry………I didn’t mean to” I whimpered unbelievably scared

He laughed pointing to the man behind me, the man held me down so I couldn’t move

“No darlin, this might hurt a bit, but it’s your own damn fault, SIMON GET THE MELON SCOOP”

Oh dear god he’s gonna take out my eyes, i tried to squirm away and break free but it was no use the guy was way too strong, Simon handed Negan the tool, obviously modified to be sharper

“LEAVE HER ALONE” Maggie screamed

I was facing the whole group now seeing all their panicked faces

I looked at Daryl seeing the fear and the struggle he was doing to get to me

“I love you Daryl, I love you Maggie”

Negan took the back of my in one hand as Simon use metal tools to hold open my left eye so there was no way I could stop this, the melon baller got closer and closer until I felt the edge of it at the side of my eye, it was quick and I let out the most blood curdling scream then everything felt numb, my ears ringing everyone infront of me a blur

“Dar……Daryl” I said then everything went black

Third POV

Negan held your eye laughing as he sees you out on the ground

“Such pretty eyes…….well eye, what a shame” he said as he threw your left eye at Daryl

Negan took Rick away only coming back when the sun was rising, your body still limp on the ground everyone hoping and praying you’d wake up

“We’re done here men” all the saviours got in their trucks and left

Daryl scrambled quickly over to your limp body lifting you into his lap

“Baby please, please come back” he cried looking at all the blood smeared down your face

“We gotta get Maggie and her to hilltop, maybe there’s still a chance” Sasha said as she helped Daryl lift you and lay you in the back set of a truck, your head still resting against his lap, Maggie in the passenger seat, and Sasha driving as the others headed back to Alexandria

They got to hilltop, the doctor checking on Maggie and helping her before he moved onto you

“I’m gonna have to clean out her socket, she’s still alive thankfully but if she wakes up she’s gonna have a hard time adjusting to this” he told Daryl

You got cleaned up and was laid on a spare bed in the main house, thankfully Jesus convinced Gregory to let her stay in the house along with Daryl

Y/ns POV

My head was pounding as I heard shuffling around me, I opened my eyes but something was wrong I could only see out of my right side, I looked around panicked when I saw Daryl sat on a chair next to my bed asleep

“Daryl” my throat was incredibly dry

His eyes shot open quickly coming to my side

“Here have some water” he said giving me a glass that was waiting on the night stand, I chugged it down

“Why can’t I see on my left side?” I asked scared

“Ya don’t remember?” I shook my head confused

“Negan took yer eye peach” everything came rushing back, Maggie sick, Abraham dying then Glenn

“Oh god” I laid back down feeling sick and dizzy

“Yer gonna be okay, I’m gonna help ya” he said as he brushed my hair back

“Don’t look at me” I said as I turned my back to him

“What’re ya talking ‘bout”

“I’m hideous Daryl I’m probably disfigured”

“Ya ain’t, yer still the woman I fell in love with, ain’t nothing gonna stop me from loving ya”

“I love you too D”

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medic-simp · 3 months

Text

Just Go To Sleep - Third Night

Rating: Gen || Chapter Word Count: 962Chapter Content Warnings: one-sided pillow fight, silco snoring, silco being a bitch, slow burn

Masterlist || Previous || Next || AO3 Work Link

Taglist: @averagecrastinator, @ilikemymendarkandfictional, @deny-the-issue, @popoisatan DM me to be added to the taglist! <3

Summary:

Hard times fall upon you and your apartment is unlivable. You have no one to ask for help other than your boss, Silco. Luckily, he's got some space for you.

If it was a different situation, one might think to themselves, I could get used to this. Warm fluffy bed, three nights in a row? Sounds fucking amazing! You’ve never seen such hospital behavior from Silco, especially after you’ve woken up atop him, kneed him in the balls, and had to borrow his clothes. However, as you kick him for the millionth time, you would likely rather poison the man than put up with him and his infernal snoring any longer.

He stirs now at your most recent jab, starting groggily.

“What…?”

Silco shifts a hand through his bed-ridden hair, not doing much to calm the rogue strands sticking up and out from his head as he sits up. The baggy maroon t-shirt he wears is clinging to his chest with its loose material, too big for him and giving only a hint at what the lithe frame underneath may look like. It’s a sleep shirt that has been worn through many a restless night. It looks older than you.

“What did you kick me for?” The squinty glare he gives you is far from intimidating as he continues to wake up a little more, but you can certainly tell how annoyed he is. Normally, you would care, your life would be on the line putting him in a mood this sour. But he certainly deserves it.

“Because you won’t stop fucking snoring!” you hiss, leaning forward from your propped up position to give your wrists a break. Silco cuts a glare that screams, that's crazy, and suddenly, you’re tempted to grab your pillow and hit him.

“I don’t snore,” he scoffs, flopping back into the sheets and moving further away from you. You’ve just decided that previous temptation might not have been such a bad thing.

Without second thought your hands shoot behind you, take your pillow in hand, and obliterate Silco’s head with a single blow. The harsh whoomf! echoes in the quiet of the room, ringing dully with the air settling around you, and you swear you can hear the gears churning in Silco’s brain as he tries to fully process the fact that you just hit him with a pillow.

He sits up once again, not looking at you but off into the distance. The breath he takes before he actually speaks to you is one that sends anxiety surging through your bones. For all you know you’re about to get murdered by this man–but his mouth quickly closes again in a slight reconsideration of his thoughts.

“You’re having trouble in your apartment,” he starts and you cannot help the irritated roll of your eyes. You are so very unwilling to hear a lecture from him at, oh, let’s say, one o’clock in the morning.

“You cannot sleep anywhere, and of course you talk to me about it.” Silco’s volume hovers just under normal speaking levels, a low, tired roll of thunder that resonates much more gravely and indignant than usual. He sounds confused, an emotion it never occurred to you that Silco could express, him being so knowledgeable all the time.

“You refuse the offer of my office couch.”

“Because I couldn’t sleep on that brick if my life depended–!”

“You refuse the offer of my office couch.” At your interruption, Silco’s voice raises noticeably above normal speaking volume, not quite loud enough to be disruptive, but certainly enough to make you stop talking.

“And when I open up my personal space to share with you, something I have never been fond of doing with anyone–less, my damn employees–and I lend you my bloody clothes, you assault me with my own bedware in my own bed!”

Not another second passes before you give up and throw the covers off yourself, marching towards the door in your tank top and shorts.

“Where are your other pillows?”

Silco is up in half a second, rubbing his temples in agitated circles.

“You will not touch another pillow,” he hisses, “bloody weapons in your hands.”

You scoff, “I’m not going to hit you again,” but Silco does not relent.

“How am I supposed to trust you after you’ve just hit me? I should throw you back out into the office for all of thi-”

“Just give me two fucking minutes!”

Silco is stunned–you are stunned–but he acquiesces.

“They’re in that closet. Three or four more.”

He holds out a finger towards a set of paneled doors. His cheeks are red hot with anger, that fiery red eye almost searing a hole into you, but he doesn’t say another word.

Soon, you’re hauling all of the pillows you can find to Silco’s bed and pile them up on the pillow he already had, building a hefty lump that he just glares at in befuddlement. He doesn’t ask you what it’s for, but the crease in his brow is enough for you to explain.

“If you sit up while sleeping you’ll stop snoring.”

Silco is deadpan, “I’m not sleeping on that.”

“Yeah? Well I’m not sleeping period while you snore like a fucking ogre.”

Silco sneers, “Neither of us will sleep if you’re slinging pillows like a bloody troll.”

Holy shit. He just said that.

You’re speechless. No matter how badly you want to respond to Silco, to throw shit back at his face, to call him names and all other matters of foul derogatives, you’re at a loss for words. Instead, you simply climb into bed and roll away from him, hoping Silco catches the stubborn silence you’re making a point with.

Silco scoffs, and doesn’t say a word more. Soon, the light is turned out and Silco is in bed too.

As the room settles into a peaceful quiet, you can’t help but notice that Silco doesn’t toss away the pillows.

#silco #arcane #arcane silco #silco arcane #silco x reader #silco x you #slow burn #just go to sleep #JGTS #lilith writes #medic-simp #mdni

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novelcain · 1 year

Note

Y'all got me thinking so hard abt mafia wukong I'm dropping. Some things I've thought of in the last like five minutes for your viewing pleasure LOL feel free to ignore me or delete this I am running off like two hours of sleep

-Wukong probably holds an annual sort of, dinner for those serving directly under him. It's probably a night for information to be passed around, big terf reports to be given, that kind of thing. Only the ones that answer directly to him are invited, the ones directly under him in the hierarchy, so probably like, the DBK family if they're involved, Macaque, his inner circle, so to speak. I imagine it's held in a restaurant on their terf, or that they have control over, so it's only them being served that night.

- At these dinners everyone has a set seat. The seat to Wukong's left is always for MK and the seat to his right is always for Reader. Bad things happen if you mess with those seats!

- And gods help you when Wukong has a little too much wine to drink! He's handsy when he's stone cold sober, he's even worse when he's tipsy and/or drunk. I imagine him placing Reader in his lap at some point in the night, running his hands over every bit of them he can, leaning his cheek against their shoulder. Everyone has kind of learned to keep their mouths shut, but eventually someone is gonna have something they need to say and he's not even going to look away from Reader, carrying a conversation with his underling all while keeping his attention on Reader

- Oohhh when dinner is over and work is out of the way, it's relaxing time, everyone gets to mingle and enjoy music and drinks and to just lounge around in this space that's been procured for the meeting. Wukong makes Reader dance with him! The music is something soft and slow, sensual, and he takes them by the hand and sways to the music.

- Eventually the night comes to a close and everyone disperses. Wukong gets a little TOO handsy w Reader on the way home. Teehee.

Respectfully, anon. I refuse to ignore this as it is some delicious brain food you have given me~ 😌

First, I can't get out of my head how utterly embarrassed MK would be seeing his adoptive dad getting handsy with who he's beginning to see as his mother figure. All the while, his friends Mei and Red Son, the heirs to the Dragon of the West Triad and the Demon Bull Family Triad respectively, are teasing his and making fun of him for it. Tho Red Son shuts up about it later when his mom and dad start getting a little too drunk to keep their hands to themselves too.

I also think that with specific seating arrangements he has a special table that he likes more than all the others. I like to imagine that the business that they go to is Pigsy's Place. A restaurant that Wukong has been going to for at least a century and has been laundering money through since he helped Pigsy go from a noodle shop that he stumbled into one night at 3am while he was drunk to a full blown 5 star comfort food restaurant that's constantly booked.

Now to what you're all here for~

You've know this monkey for a while now and you know that once he starts to drink it's inevitable that he goes from his usual casual passing touches to practically dry humping you in front of everyone

Ffs the man has his hand up your dress!

You get so flustered and try to feed him food and water to help him sober up but he just keeps getting his hands on more alcohol and somehow even gets you to drink a bit as well

You two definitely end up getting frisky in the limo ride back

Mk saw that coming after jumping out the window the last time because his dad got so drunk that he forgot his son was still in the damn car and went home in Macaque's car, which Mk is driving because Macaque is past out in the passenger's seat after having a drinking contest with DBK. The winner of which was unclear.

#skittle answers #triad au #lmk triad au #triad au lmk #triad au sun wukong #lmk triad au sun wukong #triad au sun wukong x reader #lmk sun wukong x reader #triad au mk #lmk triad au mk #triad au macaque #triad au mei #triad au red son #triad au dbk #triad au pif #triad au pigsy #triad au world building #kinda cause some of this will be canon

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sergeantnarwhalwrites · 2 months

Text

The Worker and The Protestor

I finally finished my notebook *victory screech*. This is what ended off my notebook. I see this being revamped a bit to fit in with my actual Robots & Gardens not just a side off thing. Here we get a dive on Digits' work life and her little crush on Peace. I have so much shit to do XD But I have chosen instead to drink and type this out then get back to work. Me and this Jeager got me through this so I apologize for fuck ups now.

Tag list: @outpost51 @nanashi23 @winterandwords @jezifster @kk7-rbs @aether-wasteland-s @dumbthunder @manathen @the-void-writes @liv-is (Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist!)

Digits grumbled beneath her breath. Lumber over either shoulder that should have been loaded onto one of the transport machines. Shitty little bots that had a variety of bed sizes. Most of the workers just referred to them as “luggers”. They were kinda like trucks with brains but way harder to love. At least you could camp out in a truck bed. These little fucks would toss you into the nearest pit, thinking you were just the next load of building material.

Just as their name foretold. The damn thing busted. Go fucking figure. Some dumbass probably loading too much on a lugger with too small of a bed size.

“Do you even think they tried to get decent ones? Swear this is the fifth lugger to bust this week. They don’t even get a pair at a time no more.” Brian, her roommate and favorite coworker said.

Both grimaced at the lumber added to their stacks. The weight making their feet sink lower into the padding of their shoes. Arguably neither of them had much of that to begin with. Digits’ voice deepened, wavering as she took a step forward. Refusing for any more weight to be added to her bad shoulders. Still aching from a seize up in her arms that had happened a few days prior.

“Only the best for our bitch ass employees.” Digits mocked, pursing her lips and sounding off with a kiss far more enthusiastic than she felt.

Brian’s laughs left in huffs. Carrying his own load over broad shoulders. Uncovered at that, and yes everyone thought he was a weirdo for it.

“Better be cautious.”

Digits scoffed, “Or what they’ll find a way to fuck me up worse?”

“I guess. Carrying around all this isn’t gonna bust some hydraulics or something right?” Brian gave her that concerned look.

That one that was hilarious when he had his bright green emotional support vape hanging from his mouth. Fruity clouds slowly seep from the cracks in his mouth. Slow, unmotivated puffs from his nose too. Headache-inducing, Fruit Loop scented, probably flavored too, clouds forming a field of fumes. It was amazing the man’s eyes never teared up from it. Instead, they drooped to focus intently on Digits. Urgently drifting back to the game.

Arguably Digits still found his concern in her right now hilarious.

“I don’t even know if my prosthetics have hydraulics,” Digits said.

“Haven’t you busted them like a dozen times?”

“Doesn’t mean I know what’s inside of them.”

“I really think that’s part of the problem.”

“You’re really siding with the shit prosthetics. That are probably cooking some nerves in my arms?”

With a quiet arrangement of grunts, she lowered herself to her knee. Muscles flexing beneath her clothing. She slowly leaned aside sliding the stacks into one of the feeders for bulk cuts. She rolled her eyes. Cursing when a stack had briefly tugged her by her high-vis vest. Brian forced the lumber into a tarped bed that would have been attached to a lugger.

“We can’t afford to get them fixed if you bust them Digits,” Brian said breathless.

“We can’t afford. It’s that simple.” Digits stated forcing her way free.

Digits flexed her fingers individually, forcibly straightening out one. She rolled up the sleeves of her hoodie tugging the work issued phone from her back pocket. Arms burning from the strain. Artificial skin unhappily passing over the cracked screen.

She tapped around blankly, eyes scanning the plans for the build and the objectives for the day. Eyes darting back to the time.

“Looks like we need to have the general framework up. Can’t tell if they want a factory or a home though.” Digits joked a bit.

“So we’ve been carting stuff around without any bot help for a fucking private home?” Brian silently fumed.

“An estate,” Digits corrected holding back a laugh at the look on Brain’s face.

He pulled down a pair of safety glasses, running his finger along the top of the lens. A yellow light flickering on in the corner, indicating he was viewing the plans. His fingers tapped absentmindedly at his tool belt. His high-vis vest hung limply from his back pocket. Brian grunted to himself. His eyes darting behind the glasses as he looked at the same schematics Digits was looking at.

Charging feet of other construction members rushed past them. Some hoisting lumber. Some bullying the growing collection of busted machinery.

“I’d start prepping the cuts but I think the gaggle needs some help.”

“You can always set the cuts for the bulk sets. Hold out though.” Digits lifted her head suddenly far more interested in her surroundings, “The protestors will be around soon.”

“Makes sense why those goofs are running then. Trying to look busy on the cameras.” Brian sounded like he was almost scolding them but he did linger around the cutter longer than usual.

Digits laughed softly. She unbuckled her vest, rolling her sleeves back down.

“Yeah, and I’m gonna go see if the lasers on the cutters are actually working.”

Brian laughed, “Uh huh. Might as well check if the machine is working.”

“That’ll take up so much time,” Digits grinned enjoying their banter.

“Enough time to have a personal moment with the red-headed deviant?”

“No such thing as enough time for that.” Digits crossed her arms, face going redder than it currently was from the labor.

The redheaded protestor had approached the grounds. Most of the workers slowing to look over in her direction. A dozen or so of her followers having filtered through to block cameras with signs. Probably advising against this land usage or maybe the waste of money this was. Digits wasn’t really sure. She hadn’t wanted to ruin the mood by asking.

The redhead had paint staining her jersey and hands. Meaning she had probably made those signs. And had probably caused some other destruction on the way.

Digits wondered if she should hate the protestors. Sometimes they did make their lives harder. But even Digits realized it was the company that forced them to deal with it at the end of the day. So the workers can only be mad at the people who hired them. Since the company they worked for had loved to totter the line of giving enough fucks for their workers. It was nice to have the company leads mad at additional people. Almost healing.

The redhead's eyes found Digits. Digits grinned at the silent recognition, her eyes already on the protestor. Peace walked over to the woman, tapping Digits with her foot. The battered shoe knocked dirt off of Digits’ jeans.

“Cameras aren’t watching. Think you’ve worked hard enough?” Peace asked leaning down some in attempts to minimize the distance between them.

“Hey, Peace,” Digits grinned shoving her hands in her hoodie pockets, “Definitely.”

Peace and Digits wandered off to a spray painted curb nearby. Digits sat first sighing content, even though she was resting weary muscles on cement. Peace followed shortly after sitting beside her. She placed both of her arms behind her, stretching her legs out.

“Anything special you want to talk about?” Peace asked curiously, tilting her head in Digits’ direction.

Digits tugged at her fingers inside of her hoodie pocket. Not knowing if there was something big to mention. They had been getting closer as of late. But she refused to give too much away too soon. Arguably it might be too late for that anyway.

Her eyes focused on Peace’s face. Glistening from the sweat, sun seeming to hit her skin just right. She noticed that she could spot Peace’s freckles more easily than usual. She blinked softly seeing the shimmer.

“Not really. Thanks for the paid break though.” Digits laughed trying and failing to get herself to look anywhere else.

“I’d do it for you anytime. It’s kinda fun pissing off the people that put money into being in charge of y’all.” Peace responded, flashing teeth as she grinned.

Digits skinned flushed. She tapped her fingers anxiously on the curb now. Gawking at the beauty beside her. It felt nice not being surrounded by her coworkers all day. Even if her heartbeat was pounding at her temples.

“Appreciated.” Digits spoke, struggling to keep her voice level, proceeding to ask, “Is that makeup?”

Peace beamed now. All teeth, all excitement. She grabbed Digits’ hand dusting it off on the knee of her far less dirty pants. Fully unaware of the widening of Digits’ eyes. Peace guided her hand to her cheek.

“Touch. It doesn’t even smear.” Peace’s joy radiated like the sun on them right now, damn there killer, “Green got it for me.”

Digits tried to speak. Her words nothing more than off pitch babbles. Glad that nodding starstruck was taken as an acceptable answer. Sweat sliding down her forehead and almost into her eye as she tried to memorize the feeling of Peace’s skin. Face reddening as she trailed her hand along Peace’s jaw. Wishing the protestor would just kiss her hand.

Peace quickly tapped the edge of her forehead to Digits’s.

“See told you. Doesn’t even smear.”

Peace grabbed Digits’s hand, holding it out. Her hand remained as unremarkable as before. But her busted hands got to touch the woman of dreams.

Digits sighed, damn there dreamily, smiling with a little more teeth than usual “Yeah. She got you good shit.”

#writeblr #random writes #the gays are gaying #Digits is down bad #Still working out technology shit and Digit's job #Long post

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gardenofnoah · 10 months

Note

Beloved Bea! Lately I’ve been thinking about longing for the untouchable. Repressed emotions. Trying so hard to be professional and cool about this when really you’re so in love every time you accidentally lock eyes your heart begs for mercy like a lovesick teenager. Sending you good vibes for writing 🌷

sera....your brain........... cw: implied power dynamic (boss/employee)

if there was ever another time you wished for the ability to rip the doors off of an elevator, it would pale in comparison to the way you wish for it right now.

every slow-passing floor of this god forsaken building pulls another bead of sweat to your brow. you clear your throat for the third time in less than a minute, silently pleading with the car to either hurry in its descent or bless you with a little more air--something there seems to be less of with every second that drags on.

"are you sick?" nanami's gaze falls on you out of the corner of his eye, and you fight both the urge to shrink from it and the one that tells you to take up the entirety of his vision and yell please look at me!

"no, nanami-san." you avoid his eyes entirely. for reasons you do not understand, yours linger on the empty space on his left ring finger reflecting back at you from the metal doors that just won't open.

"i told you, you should call me kento."

and you should be at your floor and out of this damned elevator by now. you should keep walking right through the front door and never come back to this office. you should forget about this weird little obsession you seem to have with the man that signs your paychecks. and you should never call him by his given name.

not now that you've woken up calling it out for the past few nights.

"i apologize, sir."

you hear him let out a quiet sigh--one that you refuse to believe sounds a little disappointed. out of the corner of your eye you see him reach up to loosen his tie, and you can't recall ever doing anything bad enough to be subjected to this.

he loops a thick finger through the silk fabric and tugs and you clear your throat again, this time to cut off a nearly involuntary whimper at the sight. it's so obvious and humiliating that you start to consider actually trying to rip the doors open, but in a moment of blessed mercy, the car dings to announce it's arrival to your floor.

"by the way," nanami's voice stops you as you're halfway out of the elevator, "if you have time, i'd like you to meet me in my office later. i'd like to discuss your goals for your future with our company."

you feel yourself flush at the low rumble of his voice--and at the (probably completely made up) implication of his request. you nod quickly, turning on your heel and booking it back to your desk.

surely the tiny smirk on his face as the elevator doors closed was a trick of the light.

#i don't know that this was the tone you were asking for sera but this trope makes me giggle #fun fact about me. sometimes if i'm bored at a job i'll fabricate a whole crush just to entertain myself #i love a little good hearted drama #that's completely made up and known only by me #nanami x reader #jjk x reader #jjk drabble #nanami kento #nanami drabble #nanamin it’s the little things #bea writes ♡

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dreamingofaizawa · 2 years

Text

Apologize

Pro Hero! Shinsou Hitoshi x Pro Hero! Female! Reader

***This is an 18+ fic. Minors DNI***

Warnings: noncon/dubcon (seriously it's very much not verbally consentual so be warned) dom/sub dynamics, brat/tamer dynamics, Shinsou being mean as fuck, breath play, humiliation(?), hatefucking, edging, light bondage, threat of heavier bondage, begging, nicknames (pretty girl, baby, baby girl, sweetheart, brat), he calls reader a bitch once, brat taming(?), sub drop, shitty ending cause my brain didn't want to imagine that bit. an itty bitty drop of yandere if you squint hard enough. lmk if I missed anything

Word Count: 2k

Author's Note: Nobody look at me, don't even percieve me. This came to me at asscrack o'clock in the morning while I was TRYING to sleep. Everyone can thank my insomniac brain for this. Honestly, fuck you brain. I need SLEEP. Anywho, I cranked this out in like an hour all in one sitting. Fun.

Anywho, enjoy~

***

He’s been relatively nice to you, in the short time you’ve known him. Working alongside the purple-haired hero has been pleasant, you’d even go so far to say it’s been fun. Little jokes shared here and there, random short games like tag in the middle of a slow midnight patrol.

But there’s always going to be sides of people you don’t know about, and it’s really only a matter of time before all hell breaks loose. It starts with a bad bad day.

You’ve both been hunting down a lead for a special case you’ve been assigned for the past week. Today you got so so close. It leads to a dead end. After that, it only gets worse. Dead ends, one after the other, as you try to backtrack your way through where you could have gone wrong. Nothing. And Shinsou is getting more frustrated by the hour as you both hunch over his desk, scouring the case file for anything that could help. At some point, you give up. Decide it’s better to let it go and pick it up another time with fresh eyes and rested brains. You try to be encouraging when you ask him to do the same and join you on the couch.

“C’mon, Shinsou. Relax just for a minute, at least. We’ll look at it again in a few, but you gotta give your brain a break.” He huffs, glares at you for even thinking to suggest that.

“I refuse to sit on my ass like you. I’ve got shit to do.” Now that makes you freeze. He’s never…accused you? Like that?

“Wait- what is that supposed to mean? I’m trying to keep my head on straight instead of stressing and possibly missing something. What do you want me to do?” He slams his fist on the desk, only managing to get a small jump out of you.

“I want you to do your fucking job.” What the fuck? You’re on your feet, slowly stepping toward him. It’s a challenge, really, for him to do or say anything like that again.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” He straightens and steps around the desk toward you, meeting you in the middle of the room. Both your eyes burn into each other, anger heating the entire room and painting it deep red.

“You heard me the first time.” You huff out through your nose, right in his face, before swiftly turning to make your way toward the door.

“Fuck you, Shinsou. If I knew my ‘partner’ was such an asshole I’d have never agreed to this bullshit.” Yeah, you’ve been fine with him. But you have zero tolerance for bullshit.

And then, in some doomed stroke of luck, you’re pinned to the wall before you can even react. Your vision blurs as you’re spun, the wind is knocked from your chest as your back hits the wall and your entire body is pinned by his own. Both your wrists are swiftly gathered in one of his large fists above your head, and his other hand wraps delicately around your throat, deft fingers squeezing ever so gently.

“You’re being such a damn bitch. Don’t you know this is important shit we’re working on?”

“What the fuck? You lash out at me and I’M the bitch?! Fuck o–” You’re cut off when his fingers squeeze hard, the rest of the word coming out garbled.

“Fuck, do you ever shut up? So vulgar, too.” You almost manage an eye roll, between trying to breathe and wriggling in his grasp in an attempt to escape. He’s playing with your breathing, squeezing in pulses and never letting up for too long. It’s making you dizzy, your chest heaving with every breath he so graciously granted you.

You hate to think it’s turning you on.

“I should gag you and string you up in the closet with my binding cloth. Maybe then I’ll be able to get something done for once.” He can feel your pulse quicken, see your pupils dilate just the tiniest bit and your thighs squeeze together ever so slightly. He’s got you right where he wants you.

“Oh? Little brat likes that idea? Well too fuckin’ bad, you don’t get what you like, or what you want.” He quickly spins you around and brings your hands down behind your back, securing them with that damned cloth of his, before slinking a hand around your throat again and pinning you to his front.

“Now here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna apologize for interrupting me, for slacking, and for being a brat. And you’re gonna convince me you’re sorry, or else you don’t get to cum. Understand?” Who knew he could be so damn sadistic? And so fucking self-centered. What a piece of work. And you make it known how you feel.

“As if I’d apologize to the likes of you. Jackass.” He only chuckles before wrapping an arm around your waist, slipping his hand down the front of your sweats and snapping the band of your panties against your skin. Fuck. Why can you feel yourself getting wet?

“Now, what do you think I’m gonna find down here, huh? Cause I can tell you’re already hot and bothered, all for me.” You squirm harder, wiggling around to get him off you. But were you really trying? You’re a pro hero for god’s sake, surely you could get yourself out of this even with your hands bound. But why would you want to, when you already feel this good?

He’s walking backward, dragging you along with him until he reaches the couch, plopping down and leaning against the arm, sprawling his legs along the cushions with yours over top of them. With your arms bound it’s easy for him to release your throat in favor of tugging down both your sweatpants and panties, chuckling at the dark patch right in the crotch of your underwear. He doesn’t say anything about it. You both know he was right earlier, you both know your burning embarrassment.

He drops both items to the floor before gripping both your thighs and prying them open, despite your nowhere-near-best efforts to keep them wedged shut. Your knees are either side of his and his ankles hook over top of your own to keep you spread for him. Exposed for him.

“Let’s try this again, pretty girl.” It’s sickly sweet, the way he says it. Mocking and praising at the same time. A hand is at your throat again while the other reaches down to glide his fingers between your folds. You’re wet. Really, really wet. You can hear the squelch as he gathers your juices on his fingers and spreads it over your clit, rubbing slow firm circles over the already swollen nub. You jolt, and he chuckles. Fuck this is humiliating. And so hot.

“Apologize, and I’ll let you cum. You’ve got all the time in the world. As long as you do it before you cum I’ll work you through it, I promise.” You don’t want to. Apologizing is just admitting defeat. He can’t play this game forever, you can hold out, you’re sure of it.

Except his fingers are moving faster over your clit, rubbing harder and working you closer to that edge. And fuck, if it doesn’t feel so good the be so close to cumming. Your legs are starting to tremble, thighs trying to close around his hand and your breathing is getting heavier. You’re so close. Just a little more.

And then he stops.

Your entire body jolts with the lost orgasm, and you bite your lip to keep from making any noise. You can’t let him know he’s getting to you.

“Aw, did that not feel good baby? I’m sure you didn’t like me ripping that away from you. But it’s okay, you’ve got another chance to make it up to me.” And that isn’t a lie. You do get another chance. One you don’t take. He builds you up with just his fingers on your clit, dragging them away before you can fall over that blissful peak. It’s so frustrating, being so close and yet still so fucking far.

After the fourth or fifth time, there are tears in your eyes begging to fall, clumping your lashes together. Your thighs and abdomen burn from the constant tensing. And Hitoshi is getting annoyed.

So he starts again, running tight circles over your raw clit with those deadly fingers of his. But this time he dips two down into your pussy and curls them hard, slamming that spongy spot inside you. It’s so unexpected, so sudden you let out a loud, wanton moan as you arch off of him and buck your hips into his hand.

“There we go, baby girl. That’s it. Make some noise for me.” He doesn’t stop when your moans turn to whimpers and your whole body begins to shake with the intensity of your oncoming orgasm. You can feel that tight knot in your belly start to fray, pulling so tight it’ll snap any moment now, and the instant you start to cum he rips his fingers away from you. The tears you’d willed not to fall begin to stream down your cheeks, you’re too far gone to care that your sniffles and cries sound so pathetic. And you begin to grovel. Just like he wanted you to.

“Please -hic- please ‘Toshi, I wanna cum. Please let me cum it hurts.” He coos down at you, nuzzling his cheek against your own and you nuzzle right back, wrapped right around his sticky finger.

“Awe, poor baby. It hurts?” you nod, “Well, then you know what you have to do right? All you gotta do is apologize, and you can cum as many times as you want baby. Yeah? Doesn’t that sound good?” You nod again, whimpering into his mouth when he turns and ghosts his lips against yours.

“Go on then, sweetheart.” You shudder and hiccup some more, before finally giving in.

“I’m s-sorry, Shinsou. ‘M so sorry, I didn't mean to be a brat. I’m sorry for making you mad! I promise it won’t -hic- happen again, please I’m so sorry.” He’s glowing from it, from how pathetic you sound, how helpless and blissed out you are. Limp against his frame after being edged so much. So beautiful. And all his, he decides.

“Such a good girl for me. You can cum now, baby. Cum for me.” His fingers return to your sopping pussy, immediately battering your g-spot while his thumb rubs at your clit. You’ve never cum so fast or so hard in your life. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you see white, ears ringing as your whole body tenses and shakes, bowing off him as you nearly shout a broken moan. He helps you ride it out, continues stroking at your walls and clit until your body falls back down and shakes from overstimulation. Only then does he stop, wiping his cum soaked fingers across your thigh before tilting your head to lock his lips with your own. Though, you’re a little too out of it to reciprocate the sloppy makeout.

“C’mon baby, come back to me.” He’s tapping your cheek lightly, releasing the cloth around your wrists and massaging the tender skin. It takes a few minutes for your eyes to refocus, your breathing to stop stuttering and your limbs to stop trembling. When you do come back to reality, you cling to Hitoshi like a magnet.

“There you are. Shh, you’re alright baby.” You cry into his chest, almost wailing after the sudden release of endorphins. You’ve never felt so low, especially after such a heavenly high. He holds you, rubs your back and pets your hair, presses little kisses everywhere he can reach until you’ve fallen asleep from exhaustion.

He decides that maybe a break was needed, and that an apology from him was in order. But that can wait until you’re both rested, and you’ve been taken care of. For now, he allows himself to drift to sleep beneath you.

#shinsou hitoshi #hitoshi shinsou #shinsou hitoshi bnha #shinsou hitoshi x reader #hitoshi shinsou bnha #hitoshi shinsou mha #hitoshi shinsou x reader #tw noncon #tw dubcon #twnoncon #twdubcon #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #not me tagging every 'tw'#just covering my bases honestly

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larytello · 5 months

Text

I don't see enough people (none at all) talking about these specific "the challenge of sleeping when it's way too hot" issues: People with sensory issues and people with physical "I have no control over it" issues.

Let me explain bc this is what's happening to me these last nights and it's making me exhausted all day long simply because I seem to NOT HAVE A SINGLE GOOD NIGHT OF SLEEP as of lately with all this heat. Under "keep reading" because it got a little longer than I expected.

1- I'm not sure if this should be counted as a sensory issue bc neurotypicals around me often invalidate it, but I don't sleep well if I'm not covered. Like, I don't feel safe, my brain just absolutely REFUSES to relax to allow me to rest. I need a cover, a blanket, no matter if it's big/heavy/fluffy or just the thinnest bedsheet ever - I just need something OVER me in order to feel ok enough to sleep comfortably. And this is a big issue™ when it's way too fucking hot at night and you can't cover yourself without melting in a sweat puddle sticking to your bed in a matter of a few minutes.

"Well, if it's so hot, you can turn on the fan or an AC if you got one!" Aaaaaand that's where we get into issue #2

2- Everytime I fall asleep, since forever, both my eyes and my mouth hang open. Really. My eyes stay half open when I sleep and I spend ALL FUCKING NIGHT not blinking as much as I should - they shouldn't even stay open when I sleep at all so there's that too. It's a wonder how I still don't need glasses and my sight is still somewhat perfect tbh. And of course there's nothing I can do about it. I'm asleep for fucks sake.

But then again, what happens when you have a fan or an AC on you while you sleep with eyes and mouth hanging open and you can't consciously keep them fucking shut as they should? They DRY. THEY FUCKING DRY. I wake up with eyes and throat stinging, dry saliva on the corners of my lips actively hurting them because when I move my lips upon waking up, they crack the skin and it HURTS as a bitch. I need to blink for several minutes, sometimes use eyedrops to help with my eyes, they hurt a lot too. And I hate the sensation of those eyedrops. They "taste" bad in my eyes.

So literally, during tropical summer plus global warming and the weather going crazier EVERY PASSING YEAR, every night is a not funny game of choosing if I keep the fan on and sleep with a cover (which makes me still feel like I'm melting even with the fan on me 🥵), or do I sleep without a cover for the temperature to be tolerable but then my body refuses to relax and I can't sleep well one way or another???? Btw I'm poor, my house doesn't have an AC, but I tried to sleep with an AC at my aunt's several times and I couldn't fucking SPEAK the next day. Which is a damn problem when you're a teacher.

And people wonder why I'm exhausted all day long lately. No wonder, I can't sleep well. Even if the fan is not directed to my head, the wind still goes around in the room and the slightest breeze is enough to dry my eyes when I'm not blinking them BECAUSE I AM ASLEEP.

Not to mention I'm currently STILL the sole provider of income to this house of three since 2019 by selling commissions (and I'm a slow artist at that) and only this year I got a "job" as an English teacher but I'm not paid not even a minimum wage because it's not an "official" job, it's more like internship and I get paid a certain amount for each class I teach in the period. It's nowhere near enough to cover the house bills, food and cleaning supplies (and medicine), I'm now panicking thinking about how Summer didn't even REALLY start yet here in Brazil but I'm already dreading the energy bills to come these next months as we're keeping two fans on in the house at almost all times. Also I don't get paid by the end of December and January because there's no classes to teach in this period. And still gotta wait to finally get paid by the end of February after teaching all month long. Three months without money while the Summer fries us and the bills will skyrocket.

Thank you big corporates who didn't give a fucking shit about global warming warnings in the previous decades, thank you global leaderships who keep doing those beautiful meetings with heartfelt speeches about how we need plans and action to slow down and/or cease the impeding doom but never did anything for real. It's always all words and no action. Guess you never thought you'd live to see the consequences of your lack of actions, huh? There's been a SANDSTORM in the Amazon Rainforest and the rivers are drying out killing animals AND PEOPLE and there hasn't been any rain in the RAINFOREST for over a month. The North and Northeast of South America are dying so hot it's been and it just keeps getting hotter. Two days straight Brasil beats its own record of energy consumption. Congratulations, really, you done fantastically fucked up I can't even think of words to describe it.

I've been awake for two hours and half and my eyes are still stinging.

#Rant #Global Warming #Brasil #Brazil #Sensory issues #Idk how else to tag this #I like summer NOT GLOBAL WARMING

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kiritella-tlou · 11 months

Text

Touched Like Whiskey [Pt. 1 / 2]

Pairings: Joel Miller x F.Reader

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: Infected, Guns, Blood, Slow Moving? A bit ooc probably because it's my first time writing for Joel and he's a complex character. Don't worry, I am aware of it, lol.

Author's Note: This is part one of two. I might make this a continuing series if y'all are interested, but if not, I will leave it be. It is slow moving, but I hope you like it! I'm working through writer's block, so I'm a bit rusty and slow at writing.

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

|==|==|==|

“You’re short.” Joel’s tone was clipped, meant to cut through the FEDRA soldier lounging back in his seat. Y.n’s smile twitched down as she leaned against the brick wall, thankful not to be on the receiving end of the dead-set stare he was drilling into the soldier’s head. The stench building in the city square threatened her gag reflex as she pulled out her own ration cards, recounting them as Joel argued. It wasn’t going well, apparently, if Joel’s tone was anything to go by. Her eyes scanned across the street, passing over the opened cans residing at Joel’s feet as he snatched back his already jipped pay the soldier was threatening to take more from. Anger sparked in her chest when the soldier smirked as Joel stormed away, her fingers crumpling around her cards. She stomped out the feeling until it died, shivering at the familiar sensation. She shoved herself off the wall, running after Joel.

It was a stupid idea, honestly. She couldn’t say Joel was nice, couldn’t even say he would remember her name, or even if he gave a care in the world about her. If he was smart, which she was confident he was, he wouldn’t do for her what she was about to do for him, even if he did care. But the man wasn’t outright rude. He was respectful. He kept his distance from her, but paid enough attention to know when she needed an extra hand during the job. His voice was gruff, curt, and sharp, not softening for a single moment, and he was a man of few words. All that, and yet he never once said anything out of line to her. Joel was not a nice person, but he was a decent one, and that was enough for her.

“Joel,” she called out, hands wrapping lightly around the curve of his elbow and tugging softly. His pace slowed.

“What?”

“I heard you got jipped.”

He grunted and so she jumped out in front of him, walking backwards. “Well, I got a bit extra—”

“No, thanks,” he interrupted, apparently already having an idea of where this conversation was going. She huffed.

“I pulled an extra shift—”

“No.”

“That’s too bad,” she said, grabbing his hand and refusing to let go when he tried to shake it loose. “You are a stubborn old man, you know?”

He scoffed. She looked over her shoulder at him and smiled.

“You're careless,” he grumbled.

“Mhmm,” she hummed, distracted as she bought a loaf of bread and a few cans, passing over a couple of her newly earned rations. How she managed to do all this with one hand was actually impressive. What she found more impressive though was that he was actually still letting her grip his hand like a vice to keep him there. There was no way she’d actually be able to keep him there if he really wanted to leave. She might be more built than some after so long outside the walls, but she wasn’t that strong. Was it dumb that her heart warmed at the fact he was allowing her to do this?

“What are you doing?” he asked, and she turned to him with a glare, holding out the loaf of bread.

“Take it.”

“No.”

“Joel.”

“I got my own damn food.”

“Joel.”

“Will you—mphft—” Joel had to take a few steps back at the shock of a facefull of bread being shoved into his mouth. “W-th-fu-” he started but as his brain was still catching up, she had released his hand, shoved something in it, and by the time he was able to look up with wide eyes, she was already running off. Literally, running away. Glancing at his hands, they held the bag of cans she just bought.

Y.n smiled as she peeked over her shoulder back at him as he walked away, as the colors of the crowd began to envelop him and wash him away. The cold ache returned to her chest as she began weaving her way back home, the nearly constant smile on her lips fading away as the sun began to set and the people around the market let their eyes linger a little too long. She swallowed thickly as the whisper of safety left with Joel and her skin became chilled like the wind during mid winter. Picking up her pace, she ran back toward her apartment, locking the door and barricading it with a dresser before allowing herself to rest.

|==|==|==|

Panting heavily, she stumbled as she ran, the croaking and clicks, strangled screams coming from behind her spurring her to speed up as James reached out and grabbed her arm, tugging her forward with his own pace. Gunshots rang out behind her as William shouted at them to haul ass. The gun was heavy in her hands as she flinched, clickers jumping out from behind a tree not far ahead.

"On the right!" She shouted, her throat tight as she fired three shots, two bodies collapsing as she tried not to focus on the sight of their disrupted faces—the fungus breaking out of the skulls after it had feasted on their victims' minds, the blood pooling on the forest’s ground as they passed. Her breaths were painfully sharp in her burning lungs, enhanced by the frigid winter air. James jerked her left as the roar of the Humvee rumbled over the sound of the Runner’s screams behind them. A disturbing amount of squelching and cracking came only moments later. She didn’t dare look down when the truck pulled up beside them. Instead, she tucked her gun into her waistband and jumped, gripping onto the welded-on handlebars on the side of the truck’s frame, landing on the running board with practiced ease. James was quick to follow. Lexa’s head poked up from the other side of the truck and William’s shout of victory was enough to know they were still alive. It took too many bullets to ward off the leftover infected chasing after them, too many mangled fingers and crooked teeth coming all too close to their skin. She shook her head when the groans and clicks faded into the background as the distance grew between them.

Sighing heavily, her breath clouded as it passed her lips, the warmth of it strangled out even as it reached her fingers only an inch away. Wyoming winters were nothing to joke about, especially not in December. At least, she was pretty sure it was still December. To be honest, she had lost count a long time ago. How long had it been since she left the QZ? It had been Summer then, maybe July? It didn’t really matter now, though. What she did know was it was cold, and her fingers and toes were numb, and it wouldn’t be long until they wouldn’t even have the Humvee to keep them from a storm. Even though she knew it, it still hurt when a couple hours later, the truck began to stutter, chugging slowly to a stop before dying.

Hopping off the side with the others, Y.n pulled her gun, checking the ammo. Dana jumped out of the driver’s seat. “That’s all she’s gonna give us. Fuel’s gone and so are the fumes.”

James nodded as everyone began to grab their packs. “Take what you can, split it up.”

Y.n swallowed thickly as everyone passed around supplies, stuffing everything they reasonably could and should into their packs from the truck. There were seven of them now: Herself, James, Dana, Teon, Lexa, Damian, and William. They had started with fifteen…she swallowed thickly. The fabric of her bag caught on the dried, cracked skin of her knuckles as she shoved another canteen into her bag. The pain hardly registered against the numbness, but the warmth of the blood pooled and sank in, dribbling between the cracks of her fingers into the snow.

“How much further to Jackson do you think?” Y.n asked as Dana handed her a spare coat. She hesitated as she took it, the memory of the man it used to belong to flashing before her eyes before she shook herself out of it, pulling it over her arms to accept the warmth it would offer.

Dana huffed, shaking her head. “Another few days by my guess,” she said before shouting out above the wind. “Teon! How much farther?”

Teon grunted, swinging the leather strap attached to his halligan axe over his neck. “A week at most, a few days if we can keep the pace.”

“How’s the food?” James asked.

“Enough to get us there so long as we are careful.”

“Did we lose any packs back there?”

“No, they were in the truck.”

“Good.”

“Ammo?”

“Out,” Dana said.

“Got enough.”

“Enough.”

“Manageable.”

“Here, Dana, take these,” James said, dropping maybe half a clip worth of bullets into her palm.

“We’re runnin’ low, aren’t we,” Y.n said, frowning as the others searched their pockets for a few spare bullets to reload.

“A few more days,” Teon said as he began to lead them into the treeline. “We’ll be fine.”

“Besides, this far out of the city?” James added, “We shouldn’t find more than small packs of infected that wandered off.”

Y.n huffed a laugh. “Like the one earlier?”

James shrugged. “It was technically small.”

“What about Raiders?”

Teon grumbled under his breath. “There’s not much out here for them to hold their ground. Last I left, Jackson was nearly the only meaningful place out here for a few dozen miles. Middle of fuckin’ nowhere. But keep an eye out.”

Y.n smiled, huffing a small laugh. Middle of nowhere. Joel would have loved it. His isolated self with no one to bother him. No FEDRA, no chaos, no drugs….well, probably no drugs. At least he wouldn’t need to be selling them in order to make enough to survive. He would have been able to relax. Chuckling, she shook her head—it would probably take an entire year for him to simply learn how to relax. He was one of the most uptight men she had ever met, and it had taken way too long before he had let her peek through the windows of his bricked up heart. To think of him now, a cowboy hat sitting on his head, hands wrapped around a hot cup of coffee he would have found somewhere, seated in an old, creaky rocking chair on the front porch of—she stopped. The warmth spilling in her chest as she imagined his life was bitter, cruel even. Her teeth clenched against the ache following it and she turned her mind rather to the snow crunching beneath her feet as Teon led them through the woods.

It had been over a year since Joel left the QZ. A year and she still thought too much about him as if he was going to pop out somewhere and knock her on the side of the head, telling her she needed to be more mindful of her loud steps. Tease her about the smile she put on for everyone. Pull out a flask of whiskey and share it with her, groaning about his old stupid knees. She knew all too well that when he didn’t return to the QZ, his luck had probably run out. That he was more likely dead than prancing around the United States or settled down in some refuge city. But she still let the thought linger in her head. It was easier that way. After all, there was still Jackson. There was still Tommy. Joel had pondered over his brother’s silence enough to know he was worried. And she knew Joel well enough to know that if he was worried, he would find a way. It didn’t stop the cold ache in her chest or the sleepless nights when he had disappeared from the QZ without a word, never returning. The worry and wondering. It was growing to be two years, and she still cared too damn much. A lump jumped into her throat as his voice whispered through her memories.

|==|==|==|

“You care too much. About people,” he said, thumbing around the last couple pieces of jerky in his hand. She smiled. “Your heart makes you blind to what people really are.”

“I think you overestimate my heart.”

“How so?”

“I know you aren’t a good person, Joel,” she said, and he started. His eyes narrowed at her as she continued, “I know what you do. I know you’ve killed people. I know that the man on my right with the hat has been watching us since I pulled out my lunch and he’s itching to steal it. I know that two people have been following me home for a week. I know that most people here wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet through my skull if it meant they could take some of my rations and scrape by for just a few more days. I’m nice, Joel…but that doesn’t make me stupid. And maybe I care too much, but usually it’s reserved for the people worth caring too much about.”

“...” he was quiet for a moment, but his face softened. “It’ll only get ya hurt, darlin’.”

|==|==|==|

“Are you alright?” James asked, yanking her from her thoughts.

Y.n cleared her throat. “I’m fine!” she said cheerfully, smiling as she started to jog a little quicker to catch up with the others. Letting the snow settle on her cheeks, the chill sank into her skin and she hoped it would hollow out the anxiety swelling in her stomach—Freeze her until she was numb. She only had until Jackson to hope for the best, a week at most to believe in what was most likely a lie. She wasn’t ready to face the reality she feared was coming at the end of the line: Joel Miller was dead.

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

Part 2

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strawwritesfic · 2 years

Text

Steve Rogers x Reader: Ice

Summary: Only Steve can make being better than you at everything romantic instead of aggravating.

Rating/Tags: All (Fluff; winter-themed; ice-skating; post-Winter Soldier; pre-Age of Ultron; referenced Natasha & Steve & Sam; established Steve/Reader)

Challenge: “160 Collective Drabbles” challenge by BobaPop on Lunaescence Archives.

Tag List: @imaginesfire

Ice

Captain Steve Rogers was, without a doubt, the best boyfriend you had ever had in your entire life. He was kind, surprisingly attentive for a man forever being called out on duty, and never once did he make you feel bad for the things you couldn’t do, which were quite many in comparison to a superhero. One of the few downsides to dating him was that you didn’t get to see him for long stretches of time. This wasn’t all bad, though, as it meant you had to make the most of the time you did have with him.

He was leaving again before Christmas–something about Russia and that being the only time Natasha would be available to go with him and Sam in the next few months--not that you felt threatened by a completely gorgeous superspy spending months alone with your boyfriend of a year or anything like that. All the same, you figured it would be good to leave him with something to remember you by. When you offered to let him choose the activity, however, you neglected to remember that Steve, being Steve, would pick something completely innocent…like ice-skating.

Damn Captain America. Damn him and the airship he flew in on. He immediately took to the ice, doing leaps and spins that earned him even more tourist attention than usual.

You, on the other hand, had never been ice-skating , as a New Yorker or no. Your skates slipped out from beneath you so fast that your butt nearly collided with the ice. It was only your quick grab for the nearby wall that saved you, seeing as Steve was too preoccupied to help.

On his second lap around the rink, it must have dawned on him that you weren’t nearby. You saw him head in your direction, his eyes roving across the seats outside. When he did spot you still flopping helplessly around like a landed fish by the entrance, he came to a complete stop.

“Do you need help?” he asked.

Unfortunately, by then you had drawn the attention of a crowd of children. They peered through the glass separating the stands and the rink with great interesting, tittering every so often at your expense.

“No!” If you could have let go of the wall, you would have slapped his reaching hand away. Why did Steve have to be so good at everything? It wasn’t fair!

“[Name].”

He cocked his head to one side. For about a minute, you refused to look at him. You knew what you would see: His soft look of concern that bordered just at the edge of pity. Obviously Steve was too nice to actually feel pity for you, but you still saw it there whether you wanted to or not.

The children grew rowdier until you heard one say, “Does anyone have their phone? I bet we’d get Internet famous with this!”

You pushed away from the wall without thinking, and you pushed hard. Suddenly you sailed backwards. Several people behind you let out cries as you nearly crashed into them. Somehow, you’d managed to get yourself more embarrassed than you’d been to begin with. Screwing up your eyes, you concentrated enough to wrench one of your legs up–only to immediately begin falling forward.

There went your nice teeth. And your nose. And probably most of your brain cells. The ice got closer and closer, seemingly slow as a snail and fast as a cheetah at the same time. You squeezed your eyes shut to avoid seeing the moment of impact.

It never came. One second you were whooshing downward; the next, something had arrested your motion. You opened your eyes to see the slick ground only a few inches away from your nose.

“Ah!”

You shot up, started slipping back toward the door, and were caught yet again. A pair of large hands gently steadied your shoulders. When your head snapped around to see who it was, you found–of course, and you didn’t know if this was more mortifying or less–Steve looking down at you.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Despite the cold, your cheeks felt terribly warm. You took a deep breath and then–very carefully–stood. Your skates did not collapse beneath you. Risking actual steps was asking too much, but by wiggling around a bit, you managed to get yourself drifting in the other direction.

Steve watched for a few seconds, looking confused and a little hurt. Soon he was after you again. “[Name]? What’s wrong?”

You hated when he took that tone with you. It just reminded you of a puppy whose tail you had accidentally stepped on. Steve hadn’t meant anything by his actions. He was just being himself–and you loved him that way.

“Why do you have to be so good at everything?” you demanded.

Steve snorted. “Everything?”

Even twisting toward him didn’t get you to stop. Steve seemed to read your mind and smoothly pulled you to a halt in front of him. When you found yourself lost for words (you had never meant to say that aloud), he lifted his eyebrows and repeated himself:

“Everything?”

“Yes, everything!” You threw your hands into the air. He looked slightly startled at this development. “You’re all strong and courageous and smart and you can even ice-skate.”

“You’re good at things, too.”

“Like what?”

“Like,” he grabbed your hand and started to guide you around the bend, “board games and picking new restaurants and speed reading.”

Was it the fact that you were skating on ice and having to worry about Steve accidentally slamming you into a wall that was making your heart hurt, or your supposed talents?

“Big deal,” you said. “I’ll bet Natasha is better at cooler things than that.”

Steve chuckled, causing you to turn wildly toward him. This did not deter him at all; he simply lifted you before you could crash into his skates and settled you easily onto your blades at his other side. Some of the people watching clapped.

“I like normal a lot better than cool. The things you’re good at are the things I like. Sure, Natasha could probably kill someone better than you, but frankly I’m not terribly into that.”

The heat in your cheeks only grew. He was silent for another lap around the rink. At least the usual group of Captain America-worshiping reporters wasn’t there to see this event. They already spent too much time gleefully writing articles about Steve breaking up with you in favor of practically any other person on the face of the planet (although Natasha was definitely a fan-favorite). You were too boring, they said. But from the sound of things, that was just what Steve liked about you. You couldn’t decide whether to be flattered or annoyed.

“Besides,” Steve interrupted your thoughts.

You looked up at him to see him grinning at you.

“I’m only good at ice-skating because I did it all the time as a kid. Bucky used to take me out, and I’d practice. I could teach you, if you like.”

Hm. Continue to look like a loser in public to prove a point, or let the best boyfriend you’d ever have look a little superior some more? A tough choice. In the end, however, it didn’t take you much time to make it.

“You can teach me,” you said, “but only if you agree to play Monopoly with me tonight.”

“Deal.” He let go of your hand just in time to let you glide over to the wall again. “I’ve been meaning to practice that, too. Just don’t throw the boot at my head if I start winning this time.”

“Only if you actually teach me well enough to get me back to the exit,” you shot back.

Steve smiled and stretched out one of his hands, apparently in the hopes that you would skate toward it. It took a bit of nerve, but after a while, you worked up enough courage to get yourself away from the wall. Maybe one day, you'd find something to be better at than Steve. Maybe it would even be ice skating.

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