#but its a long fuckin journey

[therisingdarkness]

The urge to infodump about my clone boys is powerful

#cobra and halo are my babies #and theyre in LOVE #but its a long fuckin journey

[gambeque]

i wanna write a fanfic i think

#saying this as if i dont have a patchwork fic in my google notes rn lol #i just think about agent 8 a lot.. #her story is so cool to me #i focking adore stories that explore character development ok #but idk if ppl would care much for it?? its not really shipping just story beats #like lil scenes i have in my head before n after OE #especially with iso padre #and like how she learns to Deal after everything #idk #plus i like thinking about comparing her journey to agent 3 and how they handle shit differently #theyre v alike but agent 3 explodes and agent 8 implodes if that makes any fuckin sense outta context #i also think her relationship with OTH would be so fun to have and play with #anyways #rambles #tbh i would love to make a long comic out of 8's stuff but the way i wanna tell the story would start with Side Order #and unfortunately um i wont have that story until '24 lol

[pristine-starlight]

NOT touching the orb in the personal quarters for a while btw bc sib says that quest will also kick my ass emotionally and also i don’t wanna deal with the chance of another goddamn amp bossfight before i take a step up from the mote

probably gonna do a sidequest or two before grabbing that orb but also i’ve got shit to grind so nothing is happening, like, tomorrow

#kata's chatter #space ninja fashion show #just a fuckin orb in my room bro i SIT there #ITS STILL WILD TO ME HOW FAR IVE GOTTEN BTW #shit has gotten real long ago and i never thought id see it myself #ugh i keep forgetting to go bully beach balls on the plains even tho i need their organs for my journey towards an amp that doesnt suck #theyre annoying to look for is the thing. and also somewhat annoying to fight #but still better than just. dickin around on lua in hopes of running into a sentient or two

[broke-on-books]

I should really ignore 10pm urges to frog and remake entire blankets from when I was just starting to crochet, right? Right guys?!?!?!???

#im gonna bring it up to like my mom or something tomorrow but i am SOOOOOO tempted #like this was done so badly using just a really really poorly chosen stitch and hook size with that yarn and its not even useful for ANYTHI #NG really bc of those choices its WAYYYYYY too heavy and thick and isnt even the right SIZE and- #like i could make it soooooo much better just by using a 8 9 or 10 mm hook and doing dcs instead of scs #i mean WHO would make a sc only blanket with a 5mm hook with size 6 yarn?!?!?!?!? fuckin middle school swishy thats who #its not even shaped like a blanket!!!!!!!! its just a really long rectangle with a HUGE guage change abt 2/3 in that makes it even more ugh #i could easily turn it into a waffle or a dc blanket and do a little lavender border around the edges just like that #and i would get to use my big hooks i LOVE my big hooks!!!! #however it is also the first major project i made...... and took me SO long originally (bc i was makin it all out of scs with a 5mm hook) #so like would destroying it be erasing a piece of my history and journey as an artist? but also its SO useless like i feel like it only #exists as sentimental decoration for the very end of my bed #its like you cant even use it as a blanket its so thick and unwieldy #ill have to keep thinking on this but UGH #blah #swishy crochet

[13xiii13-13]

Cannibal Corpse Budapest 2023.03.26.

pictures not mine:

#cannibal corpse #I fuckin love this band #corpsegrinder #he announce a song about mass murder and I smile like an Idiot #he left richer with a hungarian flag and handful of plushies #including the pony you could see on the photos #it ended its long journey from metal festival to metal festival #I'm on these pictures somewhere in the mosh #mosh pit #shout out to the ones who wore hawaii t shirt #metalhead

[kitixie]

Little Girl Gone

Little Girl Gone / T.S. (pt. 1)

part two: here

Synopsis: Having been several years since you’d last seen your favorite gangster family, you return to Small Heath a changed woman with a stronger attitude than you had when you left. 

information: this will be a multi part story! idk how many parts exactly, but there will be more!

warnings: none for this chapter!

please leave all comments and reccommendations below! thank you for reading!

“Aye, what does a woman have to do to get a whiskey around here?”, you shouted, rapping your hand on the bar counter. 

You were seated at The Garrison, it was your first stop back in town. You had lived in Small Heath most of your early life, but five years ago you were forced to leave due to your fathers death and your mothers general distrust (and dislike) of the Shelby family. Your mother had kicked you out a few days ago, claiming that you were old enough to be married now, and that she wouldn’t stand for you staying in her house if you weren’t going to look for a husband. 

“Calm down Lady, I’ll- Holy Shit! Y/N, what are you doin’ back!”, a man's voice rang out, making you and the rest of the bar look in his direction. 

Arthur Shelby had always been one of your favorite Shelby siblings, and for good reason. He was loud, funny, and typically a gentleman if you caught him on the right day. You leaned over the bar and wrapped your arms around his neck, nearly bruising him in the process. You had hoped your whole journey here that he would be the first Shelby you saw, and luck had worked out for you this time. 

“Arth, I am sure glad to see you! It’s been a long time, aye?”, you spoke, removing your arms from him and sitting back on your barstool. 

“Hell, it’s been about, what, five years? You don’t show your face around these parts for five fuckin’ years and then you just come back?”, he said, staring you in the face, with a somewhat more serious look in his eye than you had expected. 

‘Yeah, had some family troubles, but I’m back for good now,” you swallowed, “how's all the Shelby’s doin’?” 

“Eh, the usual. Tommys about to run himself ragged, Pol acts like she owns us all, I’m workin’ here now, I actually own the place!” he said, spilling out most of that information in one breath. 

You took a quick survey of the bar, noticing how the decor and table setup had changed since you’d seen it last. The floor was still the same sticky, slimy feeling though. 

“Glad to see you doing well, Arth. Now, please get me a whiskey an i’ll be outta your way!” you spoke, glad to have reunited with Arthur, but not glad to have been out in public this long. 

“Ah, ah. If you think I’m letting you get out of here without seein’ Tom, you’re messed in the head!” He joked, but as you watched him move towards the window to the private room, you realized he wasn’t joking. 

You had not come prepared to see Thomas. He was the only one who never got a goodbye, even though the rest of them didn’t know they were goodbyes at the time. When you were being forced to leave, you managed to sneak over to Watery Lane and have one last conversation with all the Shelbys before you left, and you never told them you were leaving that night. Thomas had been on business, but got home a few minutes after you left. You had regretted not speaking to him then, but now that regret had turned into a fear after hearing about the man he had become while you were away. You had heard things about Thomas Shelby, and they were not things any girl would like to hear about her long-time crush.

‘Oy, that Tommy Shelby is a real whore’

‘I heard he gets around Small Heath like its a full time job’

‘He pays them ya know? Every girl he fucks gets paid, even if theyre not workin’ for it!’

Those were all just some of the things you had heard, and those weren’t even the things you had heard that were related to his newfound habit of murdering those who crossed him. You’ve had your eyes on Tommy Shelby ever since you were 16. Now aged 21, it had been a long enough time that you realized what kind of person you needed to settle with, and logically, he wasn’t it. 

While this entire catalog of thoughts was running through your head, your eyes watched as Arthur got closer and closer to that window. You knew you weren’t ready to see him yet, if you ever would be. So acting on those primal prey instincts, you ran. You hopped off the barstool, and started pushing your way through the crowd of bar patrons, finally having the door insight. You wrapped your hand around the handle, and pulled it open. Stepping into the cool air of the night, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes as you closed the bar door behind you. Just as you were stepping away from the door to begin your walk to the apartment you were renting, you bumped into something, or rather, someone. 

“Thought I’d let you run from me a second time, aye?”

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

“I-I-”, you stammered, not having any idea what to say, now that you were staring at the face of one Thomas Shelby. 

“It’s okay, I’d be nervous too if I ran into someone I left in the dust five years ago.”, he laughed, letting a puff of cigarette smoke roll out of his mouth. 

“Tommy, how did you even know I was out here? I watched Arthur and left before he even opened the window, I don’t underst-”

“Shh. I have my ways, ya know I have my ways.” he spoke, that cool, gravelly voice still hadn’t changed, even after all this time. 

You finally looked up at him, releasing the death stare you had on his chest. He was more handsome now, if that was even possible. His dark hair styled perfectly, like he had touched it up before meeting you outside. His hat was missing, which was a rare occurrence, but you were enjoying the unobstructed view of his face. He was lean, only muscle was visible through his white shirt, and his pants hugged his legs perfectly. He was beautiful, especially in the face. You could see more defined freckles in the glow of the street lamp, along with more defined lines carved into his forehead. You continued to study his face, while his studied yours. You had definitely matured in your time away, but not only on your face. Your lips had gotten fuller, cheek bones more pronounced, and hair longer; but you had also grown tits and an ass. You knew you had assets, and fully planned on using them to your advantage, just not on Tommy Shelby. 

“My God, Y/N, I’d say you grew up…”, he trailed off, eyes looking all over your face and body. 

“Yeah, that tends to happen to people as they age, Tom.” you laughed, feeling suddenly insecure as you stood under his microscope. 

“What are ya doin’ back in town? I imagined you ran off and got married or somethin’,” he spoke, “But, I don’t see a ring on that finger so either that can’t be right or you married a poor bastard.” 

“Not married Tom, never was. It’s part of the reason I’m back in town, but-” 

“What are ya doin’ tomorrow evening?”, he cut off, not even letting you finish explaining how you didn’t want to talk about it right now. 

“Nothing I know about, why?”, you asked, having no idea what was about to come out of that pretty mouth of his. 

“Join me for dinner, yeah? I’d love to sit down and have a chat with ya, but I got to go handle some business right now.”, he spoke, suddenly sounding strained. 

“Uh, I guess I’ll get dinner with ya, where at?” 

“My place, I’ll come pick you up tomorrow at 6, Goodnight, Y/N.” Tom spoke, brushing shoulders with you lightly as he passed by, heading back into The Garrison.

#tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby fic #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby fic

[darkdemeter]

AUGURIES OF LOVE & DYNASTY

The DARK DEMETER WRITING CATALOGUE, WANDA MAXIMOFF COLUMN (ONESHOT) #4 —

—- not my gifs, credit to original posters! -—

Wanda Maximoff x Werewolf! GN/Female/Male Reader

A/N — Another little smut trial for you guys and the pup/family dynamic, most of all I'm testing out my strengths and weaknesses and what my limitations are; and if they can maybe be improved on. GN smut is rather tricky for me to really get into the groove of if I'm being honest. That doesn't mean I'll stop writing for GN entirely but I may have to find a work around. Not only that but I fucking LOVE writing the angst, hardened wolf most of all with Wanda. Fuckin' love the angst and shit... so soft stuff like this is kinda a small bone in the mix but my main go to is the more hurt and angst genre, that and the tension, the build up for me is just *chef kiss*. But little a/n rant over. Enjoy!

WORD COUNT — 2.9k

READER DISCRETION — fluff content — wolf family and pups — pregnant Wanda — SLIGHT SMUT 18+, MINORS DNI* — clawed fingering — sliver of breeding or pregnancy kink? — remote location — minor and implied torture and stuff (left to reader's interpretation) — mention of scars — profanity — use of Y/N — named pups — I think that's it?

SUMMARY — Another morning rises over the snowy peaks. Your home in the wilds is peaceful and undisturbed. This winter, your first litter of pups are eager to begin to live as the young wolves of your dynasty. Meanwhile, Wanda happily carries your second litter.

Your very heart beats in time with the earth, each heavy footfall of the paw echoes beneath. Your blood runs alongside the rushing current of rivers. The chill of snow sinking under your weight feels familiar in contrast to unclean pavement. 

Sunlight bleeds over yonder just beyond the snowy mountain peaks. The amber glow of its rays paint an overlay over the blue and black tinted landscape littered with white. Branches above shiver in the breath of winter and birds chirp amongst each other, calling out in the early morning. You stalk the hidden and unmarked path now all knowing of where it leads you. When another breeze sweeps across the river beds below, its chill runs along the fur of your back with a hollow greeting. 

Still, you continue to walk at your own leisure, enjoying the pleasantries of the wilds offered to you. Sanctuary is a place where one feels safe, away from the harms of the world beyond. Everywhere you have been there have been many great dangers. It was high time to return home to that sanctuary and your loved ones with you. 

Your fur is dotted with a feathered dusting of white flakes, the shift in your weight occasionally shakes your coat to a near-cleansed appearance. Your long tail sways in motion to your movement, every so often lifting when a pair of small, sharp teeth graze it in hopes to play. 

The pitter patter follow behind you with adoring loyalty and familiarity, your station the highest ranking, one earnt of respect and reverence since day one. 

But still, there remains the habit of play. To take in the world around them, piece by piece; gathered in their clutches of their curious, short muzzles. 

In your journey to scout out the territory you take a minute to admire the scenery, a specular luxury granted to you for your unwavering protection to the land. You stand atop the lifted rise of dark stone layered and moulded together by the force of nature. A perfect spot to use as a vantage point. 

Your cluster of pups, the first litter of many to come, whine and yelp together in their time of playing, small paws scraping across the hardened surface. Keena and Leo engage one another in a mock fight. Their teeth pulling and tugging each other by the scruff and ears, Leo barks in retaliation when Keena becomes a little too rough. 

With a snort, Keena wanders closer to you whilst Leo is entertained by his other siblings. Curious as Keena was to find whatever it was that grasped hold of your attention, there is still much to see, to smell and explore. She devises a plan and bows her body in preparation, tail wagging from side to side when your lips curl up in warning. A rumble bellows from the cavity of your large chest, steam clouds across your dark nose. 

Keena’s plans are disrupted and with a tucked tail, she submits and sits between the pillars of your front limbs. Not too long are the remainder of your pups under your protective stature but with a summoning huff, you beckon them to follow after you. 

They’re still new to the changes of their wolf bodies, uneven on their paws as they keep their best of balance, tricky as it might be. You sure don’t make it look easy but the grace of your form inspires them to not give in. They’re determined to share this side of their bloodline with you. 

To be as steady as you, as dangerously graceful and practised as you. 

The sun shines higher now and the world has grown a tad bit warmer, if only a little. That doesn’t mean your pups still endure the cold without sacrifice, shivering with a series of pitiful whines of complaint. But they have the heat of your body to thank for warming them during the trek back home, their small bodies lined down your back, nuzzling further into the thicket of your winter coat with content sighs. 

They fared better this time around before the tiredness in their bodies wore them down. 

You near the wooden refuge you call den and with a newfound surge of eagerness, your pups leap from the towering height of your back and race for the front door. Keena is the first to change back and pound her small fists on the door with utter demand that the door be opened, yet unable to reach the doorknob herself. 

When you reach the pile up of your offspring waiting impatiently at the door, having now shifted back into the second skin not covered in fur, you reach forward and push the door open for them. Relieved to be out of the cold they charge into the house and down the stretch of hallway.

“Mama! Mama!” They bark and yell, the beckoned person answering their cries exits the kitchen. Her green eyes meet them with a light akin to a lighthouse, bright and burning in the lone distant night to call them home. 

Her wide smile stretched open to reveal the row of pearly white teeth assures them that their mother’s love sparks ever true, no matter the time nor place, that their eagerness for her attention remains just the same as any other. 

“My pups,” she greets softly. She bends down to meet them, arms warm and inviting to her embrace. Leo snuggles tightly against her chest when Keena tugs at the nape of his neck. “Careful! Our siblings are in her tummy.”

Truer words had never been spoken by one of your young ones. The second litter of your dynasty resides safe and snug in the large bulb of Wanda’s womb, nursing them until their eventual birth into the pack. 

“Did you enjoy yourselves?” Their mother asks them, focusing one each of their round, devoted eyes that marvel her loving gaze. She made each of them feel equally special. They nod and hum, undoubtedly smiling from ear to ear as she entertains them.

You linger back in the hallway to simply take in the picturesque of it all as your pups recount their adventure with you this morning. The smile of your wife is oh so sweet, a sculpted visage of unmatched beauty to beat against your brutality. 

Often you do as you’re doing now. Sit back and observe your family. The intimate nature of mother and pups is always a favoured sight of yours, how tender she caters to them and how they bask in the wonderment of their mother; the woman who gave them life and brought them into the world through darkness and pain. 

She endured the months of labour for them. Forever, a mark of her true strength and courage and pure love. 

All you simply do is admire and love her in return, despite it being incapable of comparison. She carried the first litter without complaint or regret and she’s a soldier for the second litter. Unfazed by the barrage of kicks and movement within the womb, pups fighting for room amidst their growth. 

Truly a marvel. A woman who you happily call wife and mate. Your arms fold over your chest, the corners of your lips tilted up as you continue to observe from afar. That’s when Wanda’s eyes finally meet yours and that hunger within the glaze of green ignites your own. You growl deeply under your next exhaled breath.

‘The moment I get you alone…’

Wanda smirks at you with a cheeky glint you know well, but her attention is stolen by your pups once again. She rises to her feet, hands held to her large bump, she beckons the pups to sit at the dining table. You don’t miss the flash of scarlet warning you that your presence is mandatory.

With a submissive shrug to her silent order you follow behind. But you pause just as you pass one of the frames, reflection faint in the glass. Your eyes scan the faces of those you left back in the city for your remote life with Wanda in the wilds of your sanctuary. They were not forgotten nor were they truly left behind in the past forever. You plan to visit them sometime and vice versa, but plans become muddled and complicated in the matter of saving the world. 

A feat that took its hefty toll on you. Never one to consider yourself the type to retire, it was for the best. There, the wolf was caged to fight, moving from one fight to the next it seemed or to be confined in a cell; seen as an animal unworthy of complete trust. 

The ring of skin around your neck is still marred in its process to heal. For how much longer is undetermined but the pain tied to it left you no choice but to resign yourself to the wilds of home. 

And Wanda would come with you. 

Now here you are, sitting around the table together as Wanda fixes you both your morning coffees while your children devour their plates in record time, their mother scolding them to chew their breakfast. Keena’s face had already been stained with the sticky substance of syrup from her pancakes, Leo and Tymon opting to race each other while eating their cereal and the youngest of their litter, Peeta munches on a piece of buttered toast. 

You never really had an appetite in the winter morning - if you didn’t count Wanda that is - you often kept to a simple coffee to be your wake up call. Wanda’s lips meet your hairline for a quick, affectionate peck, hand sliding your mug onto the table. But you have other plans. With a husky growl you pull her into your lap.

“Y/N!” she yelps in surprise. Her laugh fills the room as a joyful prophecy. Your pups cannot contain their own comings of laughter as well at the loving sight of their parents sharing in one another’s orbit for a short moment. 

Wanda swats at you with a hand but you remain adamant she stays in your lap. “I have dishes to wash up,” she argues only for you to shake your head, nose nestling her mark. “We can do that together afterwards. Let me hold you a while.”

How can she resist your wolfish charms? You purr in your victory when Wanda gives in, knowing just how much she loves it deep down; to be held in your protective arms and your exploring hands wandering over the curve of her bump. 

You feel the pups kick and push against the wall of her womb to greet your hands. Their desire to touch grows stronger by the day, it was due to happen any day now. 

Wanda sighs softly and you join her in watching your pups eat together, talking amongst themselves for their planned activities for the day. Wanda’s hands fall over the top of yours and her fingers dance over the cool surface of your wedding band. 

The overly large size of her winter sweater leaves the skin of her shoulder exposed for your lips to ghost across it, causing a shiver to run the length of her spine.

“You’re getting me excited,” she whispers to you and your smirk, fangs speaking over the bottom of your lip. “Good. Just how I want you, Honey.”

Wanda pushes her body against yours in the midst of her battling desire, the action screaming desperation. And you weren’t one to refuse your wife - your mate - her pleasure. After all, she was carrying your pups. Your successors. 

Your dynasty. 

“Tell me what you want, mate,” you say against her lips. The kiss is heated and messy, tongues mingling together in the hot throw of combined passion. She whines softly and the sound causes your hips to jerk forward. 

“I want you…” you devour her words with a hungering growl. “I want you to touch me, please…”

There it was. She misses your touch. Exactly what you wanted to hear. Parting your lips from the kiss you chuckle, the sound dark and dangerous in your infatuation with the woman under you. 

“Good girl.”

Your fingers brush up her exposed thigh, her little maternal dress doing things to your wolf brain that made it go haywire with unbridled, primal desire. With a groan you push aside the damp fabric of her panties and use your thumb to circle her clit.

The quiver in her legs a telltale sign of her weakness for your touch, leaving her to turn into putty and you’d only just begun. “Is this what you wanted, mate? You wanted my fingers to be buried in you?” You taunt. 

“Please.” She continues to beg. You tilt you head, obvious in your torture to hear her beg for more, for what she craved.

“Please what?”

“I want your fingers inside me, oh fuck, please!”

Shit, her sounds are music to your ears. You use two fingers to smear the slick of her arousal along her awaiting entrance, her hips grinding with enthusiastic vigour. 

“Fuck, you look so good like this, baby. So needy for me.”

She mewls in response to your fingers teasing her cunt. She wants to feel your fingers stuffing her full, ploughing her tight tunnel until you’re all three knuckle deep fucking her. She wants to cum around your clawed fingers, to feel that dangerous and sharp coil that leads her right over the edge of bliss. 

The pools of her euphoria by your ministrations await her. 

“Let me feel your claws.”

“Oh, Sweetheart,” you drawl lowly, “I love it when you ask for the claws.”

You waste no more time. You push two fingers past her folds, her walls wet and welcoming and hot; tightly wrapped around your clawed digits. She moans sharply and her head leans back into the pillow. You thrust your fingers at a steady pace. You ensure that you reach the very end of your knuckles to reach as far as you’re able, your claws gently scrape her spongy walls, dragging moans from deep within her core. 

Wanda moans again when your fingers brush that sensitive, deep spot, her hips buck up to meet the next thrust of your hand in hopes of reaching it again. You chuckle again at the pure, chaotic need in her eyes that plead for you. 

“You want to cum around my fingers, mate?”

“Y-yes!” she can feel it in her core, the rubberband ready to snap with her climactic high. “Please, Y/N, please let me cum.”

“Go on, Sweetheart. Cum for me.” Her mouth falls apart just as she does around your thrusting digits, her teeth sink into the plush bottom of her lip to conceal the volume of her pleasured cries. Her fingers ring the sheets in an iron grip until she’s threatening to tear them apart. 

You whisper soft praises against the skin of her cheek with a smirk. Nobody knew the gorgeous visage of her face when she came, only you and that was a sight you’d treasure to the end of time. Nobody else would bear witness to the way her body silently begs for you, how she grinds and thrusts her hips in response to your electric touch. 

She breathes in deeply through her nose while you slow your fingers down, dragging her high out that little bit longer until you bring a complete stop. Fuck, how her swollen form looked utterly beautiful in the sunlit curtain of day, eyes clouded in their post-sex state, you slide a hand over the curve of her belly. 

“You look so beautiful like this,” you sigh with a wistful look, “so full of my pups.” Wanda can see the excitement grow in your eyes, that glow of amber unable to be hidden when your desire becomes well known. 

“Your pups,” she says in agreement. You hear the lust in her tone, the want for more evident. 

“Oh, little witch.” Wanda could’ve sworn she could cum again just from hearing your husky, lust-laced voice use the nickname. You lean over her until she is pinned between you and the bed; the two greatest comforts she could ever know. 

She smiles shyly up at you. “So fucking beautiful, so round with my pups. Our second litter.” She moans softly and her hands run through the mused length of your hair as you ravish her neck with love bites. The sensation tickles but once your teeth graze over her mark, her legs quiver together before they lock around your hips, already pulling you down to where you both connect so perfectly. 

“Fuck, I need you.”

“And I’ll give it to you.”

Before you can begin to tug down the waistband of your pants does Wanda stop you. Your amber hues glow brightly in interest to her sudden need to halt the sensual operation. You hum to her softly to urge her to continue. 

“I… I thought maybe we could try something a little different,” she says, biting her lip harder this time. Okay, now you’re fucking curious. “What is it?” 

She takes a moment and you see the hesitance in her eyes. She’s reconsidering saying anything but you lift her unsure eyes to meet yours. You offer a kind smile, one that she knows she can trust without fear, that you are on her side; always.

“Whatever it is, I’m game.” 

That’s all the remaining push she needs from you to ask. 

Thank you for Reading! (◕ ᴥ x)

TREEHOUSE TAGLIST —

@alexawynters

#marvel #female reader #gn reader #male reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x werewolf! reader #wanda x reader #werewolf reader #wanda x werewolf! reader smut #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff fluff #werewolf #marvel mcu #treehouse taglist #the dark demeter writing catalogue

[crazy-freak]

❝You snuck into her camp... ❞

❗MDNI 18+❗

☞⚢WLW ABBY ANDERSON⚢☜

content warning: swearing idk LOL just be warned.

❀ description: ❀ Abby has created a small settlement, who's citizens worship her like she's a god. The small city was presumably impenetrable, until you found a way in. You dug your way under a fence that was manned by a scarce amount of guards, arriving in the minuscule world, weed safely secured in your tattered backpack. Your plans to sell here, make a quick buck, and then escape were quickly stopped, soldiers discovering you almost instantly after you popped out of the lazily dug hole. They brought you to their leader, Abby Anderson. Abby Anderson who's reputation was so terrifying it stretched across the post-apocalyptic world. Abby Anderson who used torture methods from various ancient cultures to harm her victims, hanging people who looked at her wrong, bloody eagle-ing anyone who betrayed her, cutting a liar 1000 times and so on. She was sure to be your reckoning.

Your dry lips are forced to scrape against the dirt floor beneath you, a combat boot wedged cruelly between your shoulder blades. You allow your eyes to flutter shut, long lashes fluttering against your marred skin. These next few hours will be the final moments of your life, and you are extremely regretful that it will be spent at the torture of Abby Anderson, instead of under a hot girl, or behind a joint. The foot presses harder against your clothed back, your sore skin barely covered by the thin, moth bitten tank top you stole from an abandoned store.

A shiver wants to tumble down your spine, but you cage the reaction. If you are going to die at the strong hands of Abby, you shall strive to at least keep some of your dignity. Your fingers twitch, your arms already beginning to go numb because of the coarse rope that ties your wrists behind your back. You open your eyes, narrowing them on abby. You curse her under your breath, allowing the rage and disgust you feel to spill into your irises.

Abby sits with her legs spread in the presumably handmade wooden throne. It looks as if it was made for her strong frame, pieces of wood curling to give her a place to rest her maddening arms. And as you peer up at her, you can't help but gulp. Abby is a predator, she is a conquerer, and she will destroy you. Her bored, but beautiful, ice blue eyes flit over you with the same interest as looking at a sack of potatoes. Your breath catches in your throat as she tilts her head, bringing her fingers to her lips.

"Found this one trying to get in." Her loyal soldier announces, his annoying voice splintering the tense silence. Abby's eyes flick to him, and you almost sigh in relief at her piercing stare being directed towards someone else.

"She's not infected." He clarifies, stepping off your back but still standing close by, a stone coloured rifle clutched in his meaty hands, reassuring you of your fate. Your tired, and your body is covered in various scrapes and cuts from the journey here, which you were kindly dragged through. Any patience, or resistance against your own defiant nature was warn thin, and now you could not stop the fire in your tone, the disobedience in your eyes.

"Hurry up and kill me Anderson." you seethe, "I've heard of your reputation. You've torn people limb from limb for less. Stop fuckin' toying with me." Your southern accent seeps through your words.

The boot is instantly back in its a position, and the ice cold barrel of the rifle presses strongly into your shoulder. You should be afraid of the soldier on your back, but your too obsessed with abby's reaction to your words. She smirks, her chapped pink lips stretching across her stupidly pretty face. She spreads her legs wider, leaning forward in the seat, all her attention on you.

"You got nerve baby," She begins, and you wriggle in your restraints, rubbing your thighs together involuntarily. "Your fucking bratty, aren't you?" She asks, her smooth like honey voice, laced with a rumble of danger shoots straight to your core. The gun is pressed into you harder, and you can hear shuffling, like the solider is adjusting his position. ''You want me to get rid of 'er boss?" The man inquires, his voice needy, and clearly desperate for abby's approval. Everything about abby screams dominance and power, her commanding voice, her cocky words, her fit bod, and her body language. She shakes her head, her long golden braid moving on her shoulder.

"No, bring her closer." She demands, leaning back in her throne. The gun and boot lift, before your yanked up by the ropes, and pulled towards abby. You struggle slightly, knowing its pointless, but wanting to make it some kind of challenge. The guard casts you to the floor, your body making impact with a thud. You shoulders and side ache as you wince, curling in on yourself slightly.

You shut your eyes again, breathing deeply as you try to hold the tears that threaten to spill down your cheeks. Your going to die, and your not ready for it. Your body begins to shake, but its slight enough the abby doesn't notice. You inhale sharply, regulating your emotions. Don't show weakness, don't grant her your pain, you tell yourself.

"Not the floor." Abby announces, "Between my legs. Make her kneel." She commands, eyes tracing over your body. Your tugged upwards, and shoved closer, on your knees before her. You let out small grunts, your eyes popping open. And you can't lie to yourself, she does look god-like from below.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

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✎AUTHORS NOTE!

Uh this was my first post, and I got bored so I didn't finish it LOL.

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[theitgirlnetwork]

Better

Ch. 14: Happy Birthday Charlotte Pt. 1

Lip's Supportive Husband Outfit

Charlotte's Bday Fit

Hm...wonder what this is...

Note: Hiii, as I said I didn't take as long as last time; next post should be this week because this is a two-parter. For that same reason she's a lil short. I am so thankful for all of the love, interaction and the warm welcome back. I am very grateful and I appreciate you all so much. I hope you enjoy this chapter of watching our babies work their way back, celebrate a big day, and grow as a couple. A big change is coming. Also there's sexual content in this one so feel free to skip that portion and ask me any questions about what nonsexual information happened during it for clarification. This symbol: * indicates the beginning and end of that section. Thank you so much again, and feel free to interact, I love hearing thoughts from you guys! (Constructively, pls I'm sensitive lol) :)

Warnings: Explicit Content (MDNI FR I'm not playing), sexual content, strong language, anxiety

“So what’re you gonna say?” 

Lip shrugs lightly as his blue eyes follow his thumb’s travels along Charlotte’s neck, lips parting with wonder as he drinks in the glow on her skin from the morning light seeping in, big brown eyes offering him warmth and adoration that he can’t get from anywhere else. “That I uh…won’t actually knock his head off.”

Charlotte purses her lips in thought, resting her hand over his, leaning into him. “Okay, that’s good-”

“As long as he stays the fuck away from my wife.” he finishes, reaching under the blankets and dragging her leg over his body. “That’s you by the way.”

“Is it?” she hums, climbing over him fully before nudging his nose with her own. “We sure?” 

“Yeah,” he sighs against her lips before finally closing the space between them. “‘M pretty fuckin’ sure.” 

“Good.” 

The last few days have been rough. Threats of breaking up left some lingering weariness and anger between the couple. Lip was apologetic but still prideful, Charlotte was forgiving but still withholding. They were nursing wounds together. And it’s working. Their joint solution was simple. They need to be together. Everything else was secondary. Whatever they needed to do to make this work, it’s exactly what they’re going to do. So stay in the room together, deal with family later. They’d basically ghosted her parents. Call out of work for a couple days. Focus on being Phillip and Charlotte. Together. 

Lip was tiptoeing. Scared to bring anything up that could dismantle what they were managing to rebuild. But her dad’s words, lingering thoughts of sickness plague him as he holds her in his arms at night. Suddenly, every shiver, every sniffle, every groan as she rolls over in the middle of night makes his heart fall to his ass. But he can’t rock the boat. Not yet. He just needs to…work for it. Get to a point where she trusts him enough to tell him. He can wait. 

Charlotte gasps into the air as Lip rolls her underneath him, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the column of her neck. Her fingers dig into his golden curls, her legs closing around his waist as she pushes up to be pressed against him. “Phillip, you’re gonna be late-”

“‘M’not, don’t worry about it.”

*

The woman whimpers as large hands slip down her hips, fingers hooking into her underwear, yelping a little when she’s yanked upward roughly so the fabric can be tugged down her legs. “It’s…already 8:10…it’s-”

“Hey,” Lip calls sternly, one hand going back to her face, grabbing her jaw tightly enough to force her eyes to his, the other continuing its journey between her legs. “You want me to make you feel good, Bunny?”

“Y-yes-”

“Yes?”

“Yes, Phillip, I want you to make me feel good.”

“Know you do,” he hums, patronizingly pushing his thumb into the dimple on her cheek. “So lay back, and let me.” Lip finishes with a searing kiss on her lips before dragging his way down her body, pushing one hand underneath her shirt, massaging her breast as he uses his shoulders to nudge her legs completely apart. 

As Charlotte feels his mouth against her she panics, the cry she lets out is muffled by her hand flailing out, grabbing a pillow and putting it over her face. 

Lip licks a solid strip up her slit before pressing several kisses against her clit, slowing when his ears aren’t picking up the cries he lives for, confused considering he could feel her legs shaking by his head. His eyes trail up to find Charlotte smothering herself in effort to stifle her sounds and he’s immediately annoyed, hand coming down to slap her thigh. “Hey. Uh uh, fix that.”

A whine fills the air and he chuckles as he feels the soft pillow come down on his head before falling to the floor. “Don’t wanna be loud-”

“You know better.” he laughs, tugging her further down the bed and bringing her closer to his mouth, moaning himself at her sweet taste. 

Charlotte’s fingers flex as she grips at nothing, whimpering as he doubles his administrations, the pressure building even more now that piercing blue eyes are trained on her. “Fu-fuckin’ help me.” 

Lip’s eyes roll before he reaches up, grabbing her wrist and guiding her hands down to his hair, encouraging her to tug at it and groaning against her when she does. “Taste so fuckin’ good. Fuckin’ perfect. You’re just fuckin’ perfect aren’t you?”

“Oh, fuck, Phillip-” 

“Watch your mouth.” he grunts, slapping her thigh again. “You’re perfect. Say it, baby.”

“M’not perfect. I love you-”

“S’not what I told you to say-” he growls, pulling away and fixing her with a warning look, lips and chin glistening. Charlotte huffs, tugging his hair again, moaning louder as her toes flex.

“‘M’gonna cum, I want you to fuck me-”

“Say you’re perfect and I will.” Lip pulls away from her fully, untwining her fingers from his hair and watching her grow more frustrated, reaching for him to no avail. He climbs over her then, hovering over her as he runs his thumb over her bottom lip, guiding her mouth open, dipping his finger in before gathering some spit into his mouth and spitting it into hers, groaning when she swallows it obediently. “Charlotte.”

“I’m perfect. I love you. Please fuck me.”

Lip settles then, leaning his weight down onto her, groaning as he pushes into her, letting his head fall next to hers, pressing his mouth close to her ear. “You’re perfect, baby. My fuckin’...I fuckin’ live for you. I love you…happy birthday.”

The couple sets a steady rhythm then, one that they’ve grown used to over their time together but something about this time was different. The touches felt more desperate and needy. They both noticed it, but didn’t want to break the bubble they created by addressing it. But they could tell. Charlotte wraps her arms around him that much tighter, hand cupping the back of his head, legs locked around his waist in a vice, she arches to make sure she’s pressed against him as much as their movements will allow. 

Lip is the same, one arm around her waist to hold her close, switching between being in her ear, groaning every bit of filth, every promise, every praise he can think of, and resting his forehead against hers, demanding she look at him, maintaining eye contact to remind himself its her. She’s here, and he’s with her again.

“I…I’m…Phillip-” 

“Go ahead, baby. Cum for me, Bunny. Cum on my dick, baby.”

Charlotte bites down on his shoulder as she cums, curling into him and crying out. Lip moans as she contracts around him, keeping his thrusts steady until he feels two wet drops on his skin. He nudges her back onto the pillows to look at her face, slowing to a stop when he finds her with large, watery eyes. “I’m…I love you, Bubba.”

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

That’s all he can think. That’s all he feels. For multiple reasons. The first is the embarrassing fact that he somehow got impossibly harder from the knowledge that the woman underneath him just came around him, crying from how much she loves him. The second the humiliating fact that he was blinking back the moisture from his own eyes because even though he’s never been the religious type, he’s finding himself thanking whoever is running shit upstairs for making sure 20 years ago today, Victor and Cynthia Fisher fucked and made this fucking angel for him. And the third being the realization that Ian was right. He didn’t doubt him, but  with everything that happened, it was clear. He’ll never be in love with anyone else. If he doesn’t keep Charlotte, he’ll never have another chance. She’s it. 

He’s shaken from his thoughts with a soft hand on his cheek. “I’m okay, baby. Keep going. I’m okay.”

Lip nods absently, brows softened, jaw clenched as he tries to keep the flood of emotions in. Resting his forehead against hers as he thrusts into her deeply, moaning softly. 

“C’mon, Phillip, I love you, I want you to feel good too. I want you to cum too.” Charlotte whispers, running her fingers through his hair, tightening her legs around him, rolling up to meet him. “I want you to cum in me…I want you to give me your baby.”

That’s…a new development.

And fuck everything else Lip was embarrassed to admit to himself before. 

Nothing can top how absolutely ashamed he is at how hard he came to that statement. 

Who the fuck is he?

*

“‘Okay, bye, baby.” Lip pats Charlotte’s ass as he kisses her before slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “Uh, be ready when I get home, alright? Happy birthday, princess.”

“‘Kay.” Charlotte chirps, bouncing on the balls of her feet, offering him a bright smile as he heads out. The wooden door slides shut and immediately she’s screaming, running over to the couch and tossing herself onto it. “I want to have your baby?! What the fuck? Charlotte you’re so fuckin’ stupid!” she whines. 

In her anxiety induced wailing, she doesn’t hear V and Fiona coming in the back door, cases of beer and boxed wine tucked under their arms. The two older women exchange concerned looks before slowly approaching the thrashing girl. “It’s like this every other day, hey! What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I ruined my life!” Charlotte screams, kicking one of the pillows off of the couch. 

“Okay…” Fiona sighs, grabbing a beer for herself and V, passing it over Charlotte’s head. “Scoot. What happened?”

Charlotte looks up at Fiona and then over to V and shakes her head. “Can’t tell you. You’ll…like…throw up or something and she’s gonna hit me.”

“I’m not gonna throw up and I doubt V will hit you-”

“Might.” the older cousin shrugs, lifting her little cousin’s legs and plopping them onto her lap as she sits on the couch. Fiona fixes her with wide eyes and V huffs. “I won’t hit you. Probably.”

Charlotte narrows her eyes skeptically, but sits up nonetheless. It’s not like she would be any less embarrassed telling anyone else. “Well, this morning, Phillip and I were…uh…”

“Fucking?”

“Oh, god.” Fiona flinches, shaking her head in disgust. 

“It’s my birthday!”

“Oh yuck-”

“So what?” V asks, pushing the girl’s hair out of her face. “Was it bad?”

“No.” Charlotte murmurs, wrapping her arms around herself, pouting a little. “It was…good. But, I got caught up in the moment and…said something.”

“Something? If you were screwing, I’m pretty sure my brother would like whatever you said as long as it wasn’t another man’s name. And even then he might tolerate it.” 

“Is that what you did?” V says around her beer bottle, taking a swig. “Call him some guys name? Daddy? Bitch? Slu-”

“I told him I wanted him to give me his baby.” Charlotte blurts, dropping her face to her knees in embarrassment. 

Both older women immediately panic, Fiona tossing question after question at Charlotte. All of which were some variation of ‘are you pregnant’ and ‘are you using protection’. V takes the initiative of shooting off of the couch and flinging open the door to Charlotte and Lips’ room, yanking open the doors until she finds Charlotte’s birth control pills and starts counting, sighing in relief when she sees the girl is on track.  “I’m not actually trying to get pregnant, I…just said it, it was a spur of the moment type of thing, it just slipped out!”

“Girl, it better be.” V breathes heavily. “You just turned 20 today, you still don’t eat the crust on sandwiches, do not get pregnant, understand?”

“I understand.” 

“Good.” V sighs, running a hand over her face and watching Fiona flop back against the couch. “Now that that’s over…let’s go to breakfast for your birthday.”

“Fuckin’ shit.” 

Lip’s pissed. Like more than usual. He huffs to himself as he flicks his half smoked cigarette to the ground, stomping it out. Part of being with Charlotte meant trying to quit smoking, so he was trying to work on it. Apparently, part of being with her also meant being a dad?

He hadn’t even thought of that. Like…in theory, he fuckin’ loved the idea. He married her because he loves her and he wanted them to be a family. That included his siblings. They were kind’ve his kids and by association, hers. Does it make him happy to watch her play with Debbie? Help Carl with his homework? Bounce Liam on her hip? Abso-fuckin-lutely, she’s fuckin’ precious, he loves that shit. 

Would it be fuckin’ sexy to see her have physical evidence that she belonged to him? Watching her waddle around with his kid, carrying something that;s exactly half him half her? Hot as hell. 

But right now? They’re fuckin’ barely not absolutely broke right now. He’s been saving up for somethin’ big. A baby would throw all of that off. And he’s going to beg to keep his job. How can they raise a kid in these conditions? He’s still fuckin’ raising Frank and Monica’s. She hasn’t even told him about her having health conditions. Would that affect her getting pregnant? Would it affect a potential baby? He hopes she can wait. She has to. She will, right? Fuck.

He also is literally haunted by the last time he’d thought he was a dad. That was…fucking cruel to be honest. And Charlotte is definitely no Karen, but Lip doesn’t know if he’s ready for that. She’ll…she’ll wait. She loves him. She’ll wait.

The man straightens, pushing open the doors to the large office building, nodding to the security guard before getting in the elevator, taking it to his floor. Gritting his teeth he prepares to see that fuckin’ prick again. Eric, the punk bitch who’s been sniffin’ behind Charlotte since he saw her picture. Peppy ass daddy’s boy who signs his paychecks. Jesus, he needed to get these thoughts out of his system before he reached his office.

Fuckin’ bitch. Pussy. 

Lip sighs, shaking out his shoulders as he rounds the corner to Eric’s office. Alright, I’m done.

Limp dick, pussy chasin’, no life motherfucker. 

Now. Now, I’m done.

Lip’s jaw muscle jumps as he pushes Eric’s office door open, trying to make this as quick and painless as he can for himself. “Hey man, I…uh, know things were tense the other night, but uh, I’m…not really gonna knock your head off.” He goes to turn out of the room and can’t help himself, peeking his head back in, addressing the desk chair facing away from him, “Unless you keep trying to hit on my wife. Back off. Uh, okay, gonna go back to work-”

“Mr. Gallagher.” a voice calls to him before he can leave the room. It’s deep, and sounds like it came from an older man. Lip stops in his tracks, brows furrowing as he re enters the room.

“Uh…yeah?”

The man turns in his chair, dramatically in a way that has Lip fighting not to roll his eyes and reveals himself to in fact be a sharply dressed, gray haired version of Eric.

“Eric Preston-Scottlyn. So you’re the intern who threatened my son?” the older man asks, pushing out of the seat and leaning against Eric’s desk, nodding toward another chair for Lip to take a seat. The blond quietly moves to the chair, staring up at the older man cautiously. 

“Yeah. That was me.”

“I see.” the older man reaches back into the desk, grabbing a cigar and looking at Lip expectantly. 

“Oh, fuck, sure.” Lip digs in his pocket, pulling out his lighter and offering it to the man. “Look, I uh, need this job. I just got married and I’ve got like, a hundred siblings I take care of. That shit with Eric was…it won’t happen again.”

“So long as my son doesn’t speak to your wife again.” the older man chuckles, blowing his smoke carelessly, ignoring Lip’s light cough. “Well, that shouldn’t be a problem for Junior. Considering I’m promoting him.”

Lip swallows back his scoff as he rolls his tongue in his cheek. Nodding, he bites his tongue. Of course the spoiled little rich boy is getting promoted for the work Lip has been doing for him. “Fuckin’ good for Eric.”

“You’re happy for him?” the man asks in disbelief.

“Indifferent.”

The older man chuckles, blowing out more smoke. “Makes sense. You must be proud of where your work has gotten him.” he leans back, putting out the cigar in the ashtray and crossing his legs as he faces Lip again. Lip’s eyes widen slightly as he schools the rest of his expression, “Mr. Gallagher, I am not an idiot. I know my son’s capabilities. And I’ve noticed they miraculously increased the moment you were hired. My son needs to actually learn how to do something now, develop at least a few skills he can do without someone bolstering him. So he’ll need to learn under my close supervision.”

“Fuckin’ bullshit.” Lip blurts.

“Excuse me?”

Lip tries not to say it, he does, but his impulse control has always been some shit. “It’s fuckin’ bullshit, that Eric doesn’t know how to do shit and you fuckin’ know that I’ve been doing his goddamn work and he’s the one getting fuckin’ promoted-”

“So are you.”

Fuckin’- “What?”

Mr. Scottlyn claps his hands together. “You’re right. I know you’ve been doing his work. You’re capable, Mr. Gallagher. You’re quick and intelligent. Dedicated. So, I’m giving you Eric’s position, if you want it. Which I assume you do, considering your…socioeconomic position.”

Fuck you. But he’s right. This is amazing. “Okay…okay, cool. I’m-thanks.”

“You’re quite welcome. I have big expectations for you, Mr. Gallagher. You remind me of me when I was your age. Minus the obvious anger issues and baggage.”

“Uh…thanks again?”

“You’ll start tomorrow. Bright and early.” the older man grabs his cellphone off of his desk and pulls his suit jacket on. “Don’t embarrass me, Gallagher.”

And with that he leaves Lip alone…in his new office. Holy shit. Did something good just fuckin’ happen? He gets to keep his job…fuck that, he got promoted.

This new information makes a dangerous image flash into Lip’s mind, and he quickly shakes it away. 

Huh. Today is full of new things.

Lip rolls his eyes as he jogs his way up the walkway of his house, seeing Frank approaching out of the corner of his eye. “Get the fuck away from me, Frank.” 

“Is that any way to greet your father? We used to be so close, you and I, what has poisoned you, the fruit of my womb, against me?” his dad slurs, stumbling behind his eldest son, eyeing the bag in his hand.

“Fuckin’ christ.” Lip hisses, pushing the door open and trying to slam it behind him, only for Frank to slither his way in. “Don’t have time for your shit today.”

“I get it, I get it. You are a man now, you have responsibilities. Helping lead the house. Going to work. Making love to that delicious-”

“I’m serious, Frank, I’ll fuckin’ kill you.” 

“Why are we killin’ Frank?” Ian asks as he makes his way into the room, taking a swig of a soda before flopping onto the couch. “Wifey’s across the street waitin’ on you. Don’t forget, tomorrow she’s with me.”

Frank’s brows furrow as he looks between his two sons. “No, I was pretty sure you were the gay one. Or is that Carl…?”

“Fuck off, Frank.”

“No respect.” 

Lip tugs his work shirt off and starts shuffling through the pile of laundry Fiona had done to find something to change into. “I want her home in one piece, Ian, I’m fuckin’ serious. No drugs. Three drinks total. And no lettin’ Mickey pimp her out for free shit.”

“Okay, okay. Being married’s made you so fuckin’ serious.”

Lip just points his finger at his brother again before pulling on the shirt and sweater Charlotte had snuck and bought him for Christmas and pulling on a pair of jeans. The front door swings open and the sweet smell that follows his wife everywhere fills the room, so Lip immediately kicks the bag to the side behind the couch before taking in how she looks. “Baby, fuckin’ gorgeous. C’mere.”

Charlotte beams, her dress flouncing around her legs as she bounces her way into Lip’s open arms, meeting him in a deep kiss, humming when he pats her ass. “You look pretty too~” she sings.

“Ah, I know.” he scoffs, jokingly pushing her face from his as she squeezes his cheek. “Havin’ a good birthday? Yeah? Where the fuck is your jacket?”

“Don’t need one.” 

“Fuck, you don’t,” he frowns, snatching his jacket from the pile of laundry and pushing her arms through the sleeves.

“Excuse me, kiddo, I know you’re a little distracted what with your wife’s womanly wiles, a struggle to which I deeply relate-”

“Frank-”

“Ew.” Charlotte mumbles, pulling her jacket tighter over herself.

“However, you all asked me to warn you next time CPS would be stopping by and I might have been indisposed recently because a brief stint because of a possession case, however, while I have been released, I believe there will be a surprise…visit…inspection for the welfare of the children, soon. And your welcome for warning you.”

Charlotte immediately whips her head to look at Lip, eyes wide with concern, she clutches the sleeves of his jacket. “Don’t worry, Bubba, we’ll fix it. I can start cleaning and you and Ian can start fixing stuff around the house, we’ll dip into some of the money and get extra groceries, and get the kids ready when they get home. I can text Fiona-”

“But…it’s your birthday.”

He doesn’t know if his heart swells or cracks when his wife shrugs. “Doesn’t matter, we have to take care of your family.” 

You’re going to have to choose. I chose Cynthia. You can still choose your family.

Victor’s words flood Lip’s head as his eyes flick between Charlotte, the bag of stuff he got for her birthday on the floor and the mess of a house he and his siblings inhabit. He loves her so much. He wishes he wasn’t about to make her spend her 20th birthday preparing for a Child Protective Services visit. He wishes this wasn’t about to be her norm. He’s never not chosen them.

But Ian makes the choice for him.

“Nah, we got it.” the redhead shrugs, finishing the soda and pulling out his phone. “You guys go ahead, you can help later if there’s anything left for you to do. I’m gonna let everyone else know about Frank’s fuck up, and we’ll get this shit together. It’s not like they’re gonna come today. Wouldn’t be very random, then.”

Lip opens and closes his mouth, preparing to…thank him? Argue? He doesn’t know. But Ian doesn’t give him time. He picks up Lip’s bag and shoves it into his hands and starts pushing the couple toward the door. 

Charlotte watches her husband out of the corner of her eye the entire bus ride. She was anxious to say the least. There are millions of thoughts flying around in her head, and she doesn’t know what to do with them. From her sex induced plea for a baby, to Lip’s meeting with his boss or his siblings possibly getting taken by CPS…again, she was a nervous wreck. And…also it's her birthday. And she keeps forgetting.

Breakfast with Fiona and V was great and she loved it. But she’d spent it in her head, wallowing about her slip of the tongue. After, she had something to look forward to, spending time with Lip when he got off work, he’d apparently planned a surprise for her. He wanted to be in charge of everything, down to her outfit. Last night he stood in front of her wardrobe looking clueless, grumbling to himself as he demanded that she stay in bed and ‘not look’ while he picks, finally settling on a dress that he’d given to V to tell her to wear later. But then she could only focus on how devastated he would be if he did lose his job. Or the hit his self-esteem would take if he had to beg Eric.

She hadn’t even realized how well he could read her face.

“Stop.” he says softly, smoothing his thumb over the line forming between her furrowed brows. “Stressin’ that pretty little head out. We’ll handle it.”

“Tell me somethin’ good.” 

Lip nods, pushing her hair away from her neck, placing a kiss there before murmuring against her ear. “You look really beautiful, birthday girl.”

“Thank you. Somethin’ else?”

“Love you.” he says, placing another kiss before looking up to watch the stop they’re on.

“Love you more.” she hums.

“Bullshit.” he scoffs. “C’mon, this one’s us.” Lip helps her up, guiding her to walk in front of him, absently tugging her dress down over her ass a little to counter it riding up as she walks. The blond walks with his wife, their fingers intertwined, her spare hand busy picking at itself, her fingernails poking at her skin incessantly, nervously. As they walk down the block, Lip grows more frustrated, noticing that she’s so distracted she’s not even noticing where they are. “Okay. Stop. Let’s talk.”

Charlotte lets him pull her to a stop, standing before him. “Okay, lets.”

“What’s the problem?” 

“I’m worried about your siblings.” she whines.

Lip runs a hand through his hair and takes a deep breath. “CPS comes like 3 times a year, we deal with it. They take ‘em or they don’t. They do? We go to court, get them back, a week, tops. They don’t, we move on until next time.”

“That’s awful.” 

“The system sucks, princess, ‘m’glad you know nothin’ about it. But we know how to do this. It’ll be okay. And it's easier now that Ian and I are grown too. It’s gonna be okay.” Lip eyes her, bringing one hand to his lips and kissing it before prompting her to continue. “Next.”

“You’re job?”

“Was gonna save this for not your birthday, because it’s supposed to be about you, but I don’t want you to pick all of the skin off your fingers so…” he tugs her forward, digging his hand into the pocket of his jacket she’s wearing, producing a badge. “New badge.”

Charlotte squints at the title printed on the badge and her eyes widen. “Project manager? You got promoted?” A wide smile makes its way onto Charlotte’s face, and Lip matches it with his own smirk, gladly accepting the onslaught of kisses he receives all over his face as she squeals. “I’m so happy for you, bubba!” 

“Thank you, bunny.” he smiles, kissing her lips twice before setting her back onto her own feet. “Last thing?”

Charlotte immediately looks away from him, rocking nervously on her heels. “I…this morning…I-”

“Words, baby.”

“I…said something, we’ve never really talked about before.” Lip’s eyes widen in acknowledgement and suddenly the words are falling out of her mouth like vomit. “I didn’t mean it! Not…ugh, I mean not now. I love you and it felt good, and I got caught up in the moment. I didn’t mean to scare you, or rush you and I know we’re not even…we don’t even have the space for that. It’s not…not time, but I just said that and I meant it but I didn’t mean it.” 

She’s never wanted to punch him more than when he snickers.

“What? What? Phillip!”

Lip wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her to him. “Stop whinin’. It fuckin’ scared me shitless, okay? But,” he tugs her back again when she squirms against him, making an embarrassed groan. “I think about it too. Love you too. It felt good, hearin’ you say that. Obviously. So, now we know we both like that shit. Hell, for me it's probably genetic. And y’know, eventually, we’ll get there. Could be sooner. Could be later. Nothin’ to freak out about.” he nudges her chin with his knuckle. “‘Kay?”

“Kay.” 

“Good.” he sighs. “All done?” she nods, and he nods with her looking around. “Fuckin’ awesome, can we celebrate your birthday now?”

“Yeah.” 

“Yeah? Good, look around, baby, where are we?”

Charlotte looks at their surroundings for the first time since getting off of the bus, eyes widening as she views the pretty townhouses, uniform and lined up. Just behind them is the neighborhood that Lip had taken her to see the lights all of that time ago. “These townhouses are so cute.” she chirps, whipping her head around. 

Lip slips behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and leaning his head on her shoulder. “Show me which one’s your favorite.” 

The woman’s big brown eyes slip over to a sage green townhouse, it nearly looks exactly like the shade she’d always wanted. The one she’d told Lip she’d want her house to be like two months ago…and the paint looked pretty fresh. “That one.” she breathes.

“Yeah? Should we go eat inside? Or we could check out the backyard.” he hums against her cheek. Charlotte slips her hand up into his hair, still staring at the house.

“I dunno. What if the people who live here come home early…I don’t wanna get in trouble.”

Lip shrugs, digging in the bag and producing something from it to dangle in front of Charlotte’s face.

“I spoke to the husband and he was fuckin’ cool with it, even said he thinks we should christen the place. But I guess I should ask the wife too.” 

Silver keys come into the focus of Charlotte’s vision and she uses Lip’s solid chest to support her weight.

 “Well, Bunny? What do you say?”

#lip gallagher #lip gallagher x reader #oc #fiona gallagher #ian gallagher #kevin ball #lip gallagher x oc #shameless #veronica fisher #gallagher #charlotte fisher #better #lip gallagher x charlotte fisher #lip gallagher x you #love

[oswildin]

We Could Try (Joel Miller x Reader)

Summary: You have to protect Joel and Ellie. At any cost. But along the way, it brings you and Joel closer. The man who never showed you emotion, opens up.

Warnings: Violence, blood, SA insinuation

A/N: My first time writing for Joel, I’ve just finished the Tv show, I haven’t played the game, so I’m going based off the show. I love Joel. I love Pedro. And Ellie is the best.

“Ellie, stay here.”

“No fuckin’ way-“

“Please, do as you are told!”

Your eyes pleaded with her, your tone sharp as you glanced down at the wounded Joel. He needed someone with him. You didn’t even know if he was getting better, let alone if he could wake up and protect himself if he needed to.

“You may have some visitors of your own, and I’m sorry that I’m having to ask this of you-“ You told her, shaking your head. “But I need you to stay with him. If they get to him, they will kill him.” Your voice trembled at your own words, with Ellie’s shaky breath following suit as she realised… You were right.

“Okay.” She nodded, grabbing her knife from her backpack as she gripped it tightly.

“I’m going to draw them away from this area-“ You said, picking up Joel’s rifle as you slung it over your shoulder. “Get them as far as I can.” You explained, as you sent the pair one last glance. “Be careful. Don’t endanger yourself.” You told her sternly, causing her to give a small nod. Sending one last worried look at Joel, you turned, determination on your features as you rushed out. Getting to the garage, you lifted the door, hearing distant voices as you untied the horse. “Come on-“ You ushered, tugging on its leash as you exited. Once outside, you mounted the horse, making sure the gun was in reach by your side as it hung from your shoulder.

Giving a tug on the reins, you directed the horse, heading towards the voices. It didn’t take long for you to round the corner, seeing the group of men a few metres away as you yelled, getting their attention. They lifted their own guns as you quickly grabbed yours, sending warning shots their way before taking off.

Glancing over your shoulder, you could see a few of the men running after you, sending wild shots your direction. Whilst distracted, you didn’t see one of the men hiding out of sight, who had aimed his gun right at your horse, pulling the trigger, shooting the poor animal, sending you flying off as you hit the cold snow with a groan. Gasping for breathe, you felt yourself winded, laying on your front as you looked for your gun, seeing it a few inches away. With a yelp, you tried to crawl towards it, but the pain in your side quickly caused you to draw back.

“Shit, shit, shit-“ You whispered, tears forming in your eyes as you heard the men approaching. Even when laying in pain, fearing you would be shot dead, your mind still went to Joel and Ellie, praying they were ok. You pushed yourself onto your back, turning to see the group of men stood over you, hatred in their eyes. One of them raised their gun, aiming it at your head as you narrowed your eyes, almost daring him to do it. With some encouragement from the others, he was ready, finger on the trigger. However, another shot rang out, causing him to lower his gun to see their ring leader.

“Punishment will be served.” The man, David, told them. “But not yet.” He walked towards the group. “Bring them.” He ordered, as the group reluctantly did as he said, two walking to you as they roughly hoisted you up, causing you to grit your teeth in pain.

“Fuck you.” You spat, as David simply smirked, nodding for the men to head off.

Some point on the journey you’d passed out from the pain, awaking in what looked like a makeshift cell. Groaning you tried your best to push yourself into a sitting position, a hand going to your side as you gently gripped it to try and almost stop the pain. Lifting your shirt slowly, you saw a bruise beginning to form on your ribs, hissing as you realised you’d probably broken a few. The sound of the door opening caught your attention as you hastily dropped your shirt. David stepped in, holding a tray as he approached the cell door. He lowered himself, sliding the tray under the wiring.

“Thought you might be hungry.” He said calmly, eyes scanning your face.

“No thanks.” You said defiantly. “Not exactly 5 star service is it?” You sneered as the corners of his lips flicked up for a second, amused.

“Is that anyway to speak to your generous host?” He quipped, raising a brow.

“Generous?” You almost scoffed, looking down at the tray. As your eyes lowered, you saw something just past David on the floor. Something that made your stomach churn. Your eyes widened as your mouth went dry. He frowned as he followed your gaze, before standing. An ear. A fucking human ear.

“For what it’s worth, that’s just deer meat.” He told you. “Promise.” You covered your mouth for a second, processing what he had just said, fighting the bile that was threatening to come up your throat.

“You’ve been…” You cleared your throat. “You’ve been eating people.” You stated as he turned back to look down at you. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” You spat, furrowing your brows.

“I did what I needed to to survive. To feed my people.” He still spoke with calmness. “They were starving. I couldn’t watch them starve.”

“So what?” You narrowed your eyes. “You pick up strays, chop them up, feed them to your people.” You clenched your jaw. “And they’re ok with that?” He stayed silent as you noticed a slight shift in his stare. “Oh…” You laughed slightly. “They don’t know, do they?” You used all your strength, to push yourself to your feet, using the wall for support. “What would happen if when I get out of here…” Your tone lowered. “I told your people what you’ve been doing…” You challenged him, watching as he began to tense up. “Tell them what a murdering scumbag you are.” You smirked. “I think there would be a revolution.” David suddenly, finally, lost his cool, slamming his hands on the cell door, causing you to jump slightly at the sound.

“When you get out of here?” He let out a breath laugh. “That’s a big presumption to make.”

“Shit.” Ellie hissed as she heard footsteps above. She turned to Joel, gently shaking him to try and stir him. “Joel, get up.” She pleaded. “There’s someone upstairs. Joel.” He opened his eyes as he frowned, trying to push through the pain and confusion he was experiencing. “Joel, we need to hide.” She tried as she began to use her strength to push him to sit. They began to hear a sliding across the floorboards, as Joel seemingly began to become more alert.

“Go.” He ordered her, voice low as he pushed her to hide. She looked apprehensive for a second before he gave her a reassuring nod, to which she followed his order. As the door to the basement opened, Joel had gotten to his feet, following Ellie as he reached out for her knife. As the intruder came further into the room, Joel readied himself, getting his stance ready to pounce. As the attacker came into view, he made his move, going behind him as he slit his throat, causing the man to gurgle and fall to the floor. Ellie finally came out of her hiding spot, as Joel shook his head. “No, stay here. There will be more outside.” He told her.

“But-“ Ellie tried.

“No buts.” He lightly scolded her. He looked round the room, noticing his gun was gone. But not just that. You. “Where’s (Y/N)?” He asked, as Ellie gave him a sheepish stare. “Ellie…”

“They went out to lead the guys away.” Ellie said quietly. “I had to stay here to protect you.” Joel’s eyes widened at her words, as he felt anxiety swell in his chest.

“Shit.” He muttered, clenching his fist, gripping the knife tightly. You were gone. Out of sight. He didn’t know where you were or if you were ok. He silently prayed you had gotten away, stayed hiding whilst the men looked for him. But he knew you all too well. You would’ve gone in guns blazing to get them away from him and Ellie. Putting yourself at risk for them. “Stay here.” He told Ellie, his tone teetering on dangerous, before disappearing from sight, on the hunt for his next victim.

David had left you alone once again, as you tried to fiddle with the lock on the cell door. However, you quickly realised it wasn’t going to work as you let your frustration take over, yelling as you hit the door. You even tried bending the wire of the door, just to try and make a gap big enough for you to get out through. But it wasn’t as easy with broken ribs. Looking at the floor in defeat, you had an idea. Bending down with a groan, you untied your shoelace, glancing up at the door every now and again to check no one was coming in. You began to pull out the lace from the shoe, holding it in your hands as you held it taut, seeing how strong it was as you smiled to yourself. You hid it up your jacket sleeve, keeping a bit of the lace in the palm of your hand to get easy access.

After a few more minutes, David finally returned. You licked your lips. You knew men like him. You knew how to butter them up. Putting on your best innocent eyes, you watching him closely.

“I’ve…” You began, making your voice low. “I’ve been thinking.” You bit your lip. “Maybe… Maybe I’ve been wrong. Quick to judge.” You cleared your throat, watching as he narrowed his eyes. “I mean… You have the weight of a whole community on your shoulders. That must be hard.” His features seemed to soften slightly.

“It can be.” He agreed. “But I just do the Lords work. I look after my own.” He paused. “Just like you. With the girl… And the man.”

“I just wanted to protect them.” It wasn’t a lie. “They are my community… Surely you understand.” You took a step towards the fence.

“I can see it in you. That fight. That desire to protect.” He lowered his voice. “I see that part of me… in you.” You fought the urge to shudder at his words. “Imagine if we both took charge of this community… Both of us. Headstrong. Protective. Willing to do what it takes to keep our own safe.” He took his own step forwards. “Mother and Father.”

Joel stood over one of the men who was tied to a chair, as Ellie had eventually come out from the basement, watching with curious eyes as Joel seemingly scared the man.

“Where are they?” Joel questioned, leaning down so his face was mere inches from the man.

“I-I don’t know, man.” The raider tried, but Joel clicked his tongue, bringing up Ellie’s knife into the air as he stabbed it through the man’s kneecap, causing him to yell out in pain.

“Not good enough!” Joel snarled, Ellie had seen Joel angry… But this was a new level. He was scared. Lashing out. “Where. Are. They?”

“He-He took her!” The man shouted. “To our community.”

“Where?”

“A-a town, not far.”

“What town?!” Joel twisted the knife as the man yelled once more, gasping and panting as he tried to think straight.

“It’s not a real town!” He exclaimed. “It-It’s a few miles from here, please-“ Joel took the knife out from the man’s knee as he fell forward for a second. He turned, grabbing a map from the side as he held it up, putting the knife in the man’s mouth.

“Point to it.” He ordered, as the man did as he was told. “Now point to where we are.” Again, he did, as Joel took back the knife.

“Please, I swear-“ He pleaded. “I’m telling the truth.” Joel turned, grabbing a gun he’d taken from the raider. “Please.”

“Oh. I believe you.” Joel told him, before quickly aiming the gun at the man’s head, pulling the trigger. He’d completely forgotten Ellie was even in the room. Consumed by his rage. He turned, leaving the man dead as he caught Ellie’s eye. She didn’t look scared. But he couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt in his stomach. “Let’s go.” He told her as he threw her knife back to her.

David opened the door, but you waited. You didn’t want to seem too eager to get out. To leave. Taking a slow step forward, you waited for him to nod for permission. Once he did, you exited the cell, standing in front of him. He slowly lifted his hand, causing you to flinch slightly. He then gently traced your cheek with his thumb, causing you to fight the urge to attack him right then and there.

“I’m sorry about my men.” He apologised. “They did quite the number on you.” His hand slowly moved down. Painfully slow. As he reached for the bottom of your shirt, lifting it to reveal the bruise on your ribs. “Luckily for you, we have more medicine.” He told you as his hand grazed your side, lowering your shirt. “Plenty of rest, food and medicine… Then we will begin.”

David led you down the hallway, walking in front as you swallowed the lump in your throat, beginning to get the shoelace from your jacket sleeve. You shuffled it in your hands, as you wrapped both ends on either hand, pulling it out taut to get ready to attack. You got to the kitchens, as you finally decided to take your shot. Moving behind David, you moved your arms over his head, ignoring the pain you felt, as you pressed the lace against his throat, using all your strength to press down on it, causing him to jolt and gasp. He tried clawing at the lace, as you kept pulling, kicking the back of his knee to buckle his leg, causing him to falter as he fell to the floor.

“I know men like you.” You said lowly. “Why would I, want to join you?” You spat, as his movements began to slow. You saw your chance, seeing him on the floor as you let go of the lace, making a run for it out the kitchen, limping slightly to put less weight on your hurt side. You entered out into what appeared to be a dining hall area, as you rushed towards the nearest exit, pushing on the door, which was locked. Swearing under your breath, you went to another door, trying that one. But again, it was locked. You yelled in anger, refusing to let it stop you. You picked up a nearby chair, yelping as it sent pain down your side. But the adrenaline was taking over. The will to survive. You launched the chair at one of the windows, causing it to crack it slightly. You quickly picked up another chair, repeating the action. However, as you went to throw the last chair to finally break the window, you felt a pressure on your throat, causing you to drop the chair to claw at the shoelace you had used on David, that was now pressing on your neck. He hauled you back, causing you to gasp and groan, before he threw you to the floor, causing you to knock over one of the tables as you clattered into it. The candle fell to the floor, the flame catching fire to a nearby table cloth, quickly going up in smoke. Your eyes widened at the sight, realising the building would quickly be set alight.

“You stupid little-“ David spat, as he quickly appeared over you, using his body to hold you down. You tried your best to fight, using your fists to try and hit him, your legs to kick, and your mouth to bite, however, your body was growing weak. “You will repent. You will follow my rules, my lifestyle…” David continued. “You need to be taught a lesson.”

“Fuck. You!” You shouted, rage filling your mind as you spat in his face. That only angered him further as he grabbed your face with his hand, gripping your skin tightly as he forced you to look at him. “Asshole!” You managed to force out, causing him to smirk, seeing how much power he had in the situation. A sudden shot rang out through the room, as David flinched, frowning. You let out a breath, coughing as you looked up, seeing blood coming from his chest. His features began to become distant, as he finally fell forward, landing on you as you yelled, tears forming in your eyes, trying to push him off you. “Get- Get off!” You cried, closing your eyes tight, feeling the smoke making your mouth dry. Suddenly, the weight on you lifted, as you felt a hand grab your arm, causing you to scream, fighting against it.

“It’s okay.” You heard a voice over the flames. “It’s okay. It’s me.” You opened your eyes, smoke clearing as you realised it was a face you recognised. “It’s me, baby, it’s me.” You let out a breath.

“Joel…” You reached out, grabbing onto him, almost to make sure he was real. He nodded, wrapping an arm around you as he carefully led you out of the hall, leaving the flames and smoke behind you both. As you stepped outside, the cold air hit you roughly, as it made your throat close up for a second. Your eyes scanned around, looking for danger, but you only saw Ellie as she looked shocked by your appearance.

“Ellie…” You whispered, thankful she was safe. That they were both safe. You had done your job.

“We’re okay.” Joel told you, feeling your legs buckle as he allowed you to fall into him, your head landing on his shoulder, as he wrapped you in a warm embrace. “It’s okay Darlin’, we’re here now. It’s okay.” He said softly in your ear, as his gloved hand held the back of your head.

You jolted awake, gasping a little as you sat with a start, which soon made you wince. You didn’t know where you were. And your heart rate increased as it saw the flames from a fire.

“(Y/N)-“ You jumped at the voice, turning to see Joel sat on a nearby rock. “You’re safe.” He told you gently, getting up to come over to you. “You passed out, it’s okay, we’re hidden. They won’t find us.” He told you, almost like a promise. “Found this little cave, decided it was the best bet.” You nodded at his words, pushing yourself to lean against the wall, breathing a little ragged. You looked over, seeing Ellie asleep in her own sleeping back. “She wanted to stay awake till you woke up.” He said. “But sleep had other ideas.”

“Your wound-“ You realised, turning to face him as he waved you off, sitting beside you against the wall.

“I’m fine.” He grunted. “Penicillin fixed me right up.” He paused. “I’m more worried about you. I think you’ve cracked a few ribs.” He said through a clenched jaw.

“Yeah… Not great when you’re trying to travel across the country.” You let out a small chuckle. “Don’t even have a horse anymore.” You both sat in silence for a moment. Joel didn’t know what to say. Every time he thought of you being hurt… He couldn’t help but blame himself. He couldn’t help but feel anger at the ones who did it. “I’m sorry.” Your words broke him out of his thoughts as he turned to frown at you.

“What for?”

“For making your life more difficult.” You shrugged. “For going and doing something stupid.” You licked your lips nervously. He quickly shook his head, sitting up a little.

“This wasn’t your fault.” He told you sternly. “If it was anyone’s… It’s mine.” He sighed, pulling his gaze away from you.

“Don’t do that.” You whispered. “Don’t put this on yourself. I made the choice to go out there, I made the choice to risk my own life.”

“But you shouldn’t have had to.” He said a bit more angry. You knew it wasn’t at you though. “I should’ve been there to handle it. Instead… I was laid up. Useless.” You frowned.

“Joel, you kept Ellie safe, and you came and got me.” You almost scoffed. “You did more than enough. You did handle it.” You paused. “I tried to handle it. I tried to help, to make your job a little easier, so you could focus on getting better.” He finally looked at you once again, seeing the honesty in your eyes. You really wanted to protect him. Help him. Ease the pressure on him. “And I’m sorry I couldn’t do that.”

“Not many people have done that for me.” He said quietly, voice a little gruff. “But please, don’t do it again. If we’re ever in this position again, you stay put. You don’t put yourself in danger for me.” You didn’t reply, simply giving a small nod. You couldn’t promise anything, but you were both stubborn, meaning you would never agree. “Now, let me sort that cut.” He gestured to your cheek, as you furrowed your brows, before lifting a hand to touch where he’d pointed, feeling dry blood on your skin. You didn’t even realise it was there. He reached over to his backpack, pulling out a small first aid kit. It just held some wipes and plasters. He opened it, reaching in to grab a wipe, opening the packet as he pulled it out. You watched him closely, as he gently reached up to wipe away the dried blood. You couldn’t help but just stare at him.

“How did you know where I was?” You asked, voice low. Joel seemed to hesitate for a moment, before clearing his throat.

“I have my ways.” He said, his eyes still trained on your cut.

“Sounds ominous.” You quipped, before letting out a small hiss as the wipe touched a sensitive part of your skin, causing him to whisper a small apology. “Was Ellie okay?”

“Yeah-“ He finally finished, taking his eyes away from you as he fiddled with the first aid kit. “Bit scared I think. Worried about losing you.” He admitted. “We both were.” He didn’t meet your eyes as he said it, he actually avoided looking at you altogether. You felt your heart swell at his words, as you pursed your lips.

“Yeah… Well, you gave us quite the scare too.” You said. “You were out for a few days.” You cleared your throat. “I thought-“ You felt your eyes growing glassy. “We thought-“ You tried, as he finally met your gaze again. “Both of us were scared of losing you.”

“You would’ve been fine.” Joel tried to shrug it off, but you shook your head, reaching out your hand for his, as you gently gripped it.

“Joel you need to start realising… We care for you. Ellie adores you. She’ll never say it-“ You added, with a small laugh. “But she does. I’ve never seen her so worried.” His eyes softened for a moment.

“And you?”

“Of course I was worried.” You told him sincerely, giving his hand a small squeeze.

“I was too, y’know.” His voice was quiet, almost above a whisper. “Bout you.” He admitted. “When I came in… When I saw you-“ He shook his head. “With that… scumbag.” He almost spat. “I just saw red. I felt… I felt it in my chest.” He explained, as you kept your eyes on his. “The thought of him hurting you-“

“But I’m fine.” You reassured him. “I’m here, I’m alive.” You promised, as he moved his spare hand, gently placing it on your unharmed cheek. You didn’t flinch. Not like you did with David. It felt right, his touch felt right. It was welcomed. You melted into his hand.

“Before Ellie… Before you-“ He began. “I didn’t think I’d feel…” He couldn’t finish as you nodded, understanding.

“I know.”

“And I can’t.” He removed his hand, leaving you feeling empty. “Not now.” You removed your own hand from his as you recoiled back slightly. “Not during all this.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Maybe once… Once we get back to Tommy’s…” Your heart became full of hope again. “We could… try?” He asked. It was weird, seeing the hardened, gruff and ruthless man you knew become so soft, unsure and emotional. But it was nice. It felt special. You nodded, a small smile on your lips.

“Yeah… I’d like that.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #the last of us x reader #the last of us #Pedro pascal x reader

[miasmaghoul]

anything little dick mountain.... PLEEEEASE

anything you say?

okay.

how about little dick mountain and nonbinary intersex mist getting stoned and fuckin around in the woods?

thats something.

"This is nice," Mountain murmurs, twirling a lock of fine silver hair between two fingers.

"Always is," Mist lilts in reply, plucking the half-burned joint from Mountain's other hand. They offer him a slow wink, and Mountain grins.

They've been here for a while now, naked and sprawled out beside Mist's favorite stream deep in the woods. It's a tranquil place, serene and nearly silent. The babble of the water soothes something deep in Mountain's core, as does the late spring sun filtering through the boughs above. The warm light dapples Mist's pale skin, washes them in an ethereal glow, and stoned as he is Mountain can't help but touch.

Mist hums on an inhale as a large hand caresses their shoulder, rough fingers tracing the intricate lines of the tattoo there - a sea serpent with fangs sharp enough that even the ink threatens to cut. Mountain could study it for hours, could spend an age gliding his fingertips along every curve. From the tip of the tongue that sits just above the barely-there swell of Mist's chest to the tail that ends at the small of their back.

Mist's slight hand rests on Mountain's chest, delicate fingers fiddling with his chest hair, and he takes a moment to admire them.

They look exquisite; silver-blue eyes reddened and heavy, hollow cheeks crested with pink, gills rippling as heady smoke flows from them in entracing waves. Mountain lowers his head to drink it down, his hand sliding around to rest between Mist's shoulders while he noses at their throat.

"Greedy," they tease, voice light. Mountain chuffs, dragging the tip of his tongue along their jaw. Mist sighs, tilting their head and taking another deep pull, burning the joint to its end. Mountain feels their lungs fill under his touch, and something about it makes him throb.

"Can you blame me when you taste so good?" Another lick, and Mist trills, amused.

"Not even a little."

Another plume escapes Mist's gills and Mountain sucks it down, holds it in. He pulls away with a curl to his lips and finds Mist peering up at him expectantly, the tip of their tongue poking out between needle-sharp fangs. Mountain threads long fingers into soft hair, grips gently, and when their lips join it's in a cloud of sweet smoke.

It's slow. Languid. A relaxed meeting of tongues, an exchange of breath and saliva alike. Mountain's hand glides down the length of their spine, a brief journey that ends with his palm on Mist's sharp hip, fingers dimpling the subtle curve of their ass. They shift a bit, hook a leg over his thigh, and Mountain chuckles at the almost imperceptible weight of it. He smiles against their lips.

"I always forget how small you are," he murmurs, and Mist rewards him with a sharp tug to his chest hair. He gives them a hiss, one that fades into a pleased hum when cool, bony fingers drift down over his stomach.

"No you don't," they say, clearly amused. Mountain pulls back just enough to catch the sparkle in their eyes, a glint of brilliant sapphire in those pale irises.

They're right, of course. It's impossible to forget how tiny Mist is in comparison to him, how seemingly frail. Elegant limbs, bony joints, slender from head to toe. He has a solid two feet on them, and who knows how much weight, but on the rare occasion Mist hunts him down for these trysts it's never them that seems to feel small.

That wandering hand vanishes between their bodies, and Mountain lets his own hand travel down the creamy thigh over his hip, squeezing along the way. Mist licks their lips, gives him a sharp smile.

"But I could say the same about you, big guy."

They punctuate that statement by wrapping deft fingers around his cock, and Mountain groans as he feels them engulf him completely. The one place where he is decidedly not big.

"Oh, someone's excited," Mist sing-songs, giving his little stiffy a nice squeeze. He shivers with it, hips rolling already.

Mountain can't deny it - truth be told he's been chubby since Mist caught him on his way back to the abbey, arms full of freshly snipped roses that Primo had requested for his chambers. He'd pawned that task off on a nearby sibling, content to follow his dick and the stunning ghoul before him instead. Mist thumbs over his sticky head and Mountain huffs out a tight sigh.

"Sensitive as ever," Mist taunts, loosening their grip and giving him a couple of soft little pumps that have Mountain's eyes rolling back. "Planning to blame the weed?"

He always does, but they both know better.

"I can if you want," he rumbles, hitching Mist's leg higher on his hip. "But it's easier to blame you."

Mist laughs, loud and bright in the surrounding silence. They shift closer, close enough that Mountain can feel the brush of their pebbled nipples against his chest, their piercings pressing chilly into his overwarm skin. Mountain drags blunt nails up their thigh, relishing the goosebumps that appear in his wake. He slips his own hand between their bodies, and Mist smiles. They wrap a spindly arm around his neck, arch their back, and with a loose rock of their hips Mountain feels the firm length of their dick press into his thigh

"Looking to return the favor, sycamore?"

Mountain doesn't try to hide his whine, there's no point. He always gets noisy when they do this, and all the high does is make him more willing to let it out. He wraps an eager hand around Mist's already slick length, and they reward him with a tighter grip on his own. Mountain groans deep in his chest, leaning down to knock their horns together.

"You're really hard," he murmurs, the hand in Mist's hair drifting down to settle at the back of their neck, angling their lovely, handsome face towards his own. "Gonna blame that on the weed?"

Mist doesn't deign to answer, getting a nice handful of his hair and licking a wide stripe over his stubbled cheek instead. Mountain feels himself throb in their hand, feels Mist leak over his knuckles, and as they catch him in a decidedly more hungry kiss Mountain lets himself be overwhelmed.

It's easy to do. The smooth swipe of their tongue along his own and behind his fangs drags him further and further down. The slowly tightening channel of Mist's hand pulls pearl after pearl of pre from his firm little cock, the slick sound of both of their hands filling his head with static. Mist's nails rake over his scalp, just sharp enough to provide the hint of a sting, and Mountain doesn't even try to hold back his moan.

It's nice like this. No rushing, no frantic urgency, no pleading for more. No need for it. They both know Mist controls the pace of these stolen moments, and Mountain has absolutely no problem with it. He lets himself enjoy the kiss, the taste of Mist filling his mouth. Fresh and clean with a specific sort of bitterness Mountain has come to crave, all of it accentuated by the herbal flavor of their shared smokable. It's intoxicating, and before Mountain knows it he's panting into their mouth, starved for more.

He pauses on a downstroke, wraps a finger and thumb around the base of Mist's twitching length and slips two fingers back between their legs. He moans out a curse at the slick heat he finds there, swiping his digits through their folds. He dips just one inside, and the tightness he finds there has his stomach swooping.

Mist purrs into the kiss when he swirls it inside, abandoning their grip on his short length in favor of grabbing his wrist. Mountain doesn't fight when they pull his slippery hand from their body, maneuvering it instead to hold the both of them together.

Mountain has to pull back then, chest heaving and eyes glassy as Mist guides him to stroke. The feel of it is exquisite - his large palm is rough, callused, but Mist leaks so much that it eases the glide in moments. The sensation wrings a pained gurgle from him, and Mountain can't keep himself from rocking his hips. From letting his tip kiss the underside of Mist's, every drag of their cocks against one another sending his head spinning and forcing heat to swirl through his belly.

"Fuck," he breathes, long and low. "Mist, fuck -"

"Feeling good, aren't you?" Mist sounds entirely too calm, as they always do, but the way they pulse in his hand betrays them. "Think the little guy's ready for me yet?"

They rock their hips just as Mountain does, ruts their cocks together, and Mountain makes the most embarrassing sound. He gives a quick nod, sucking his lower lip between his fangs, and before he can do anything more Mist is rolling him onto his back. Straddling his hips. Moving him like he isn't at least twice their size everywhere except where it counts.

"That's better," Mist says on a sigh. They settle on their knees, palms flat on his chest, and Mountain gazes up at them with what can only be called unabashed adoration. Mist smiles down at him, tossing the silver curtain of their hair over their shoulder. Mountain rests his hands on their waist, loving the way his thumbs overlap just below their navel. "Don't you think?"

Mountain offers up a dumb little sound of confirmation, too busy visually feasting on the little ghoul above him. Soaking in every angle and curve, every ridge of their gills, the sparkle of their nipple rings and the shimmering black scales decorating their collarbones and the vee of their hips. His gaze halts there, caught completely on the way their shiny pink cock sticks straight out between their skinny thighs.

Mist doesn't miss it, their lips curling into a positively cheshire smile while they scoot forward. While they settle themselves over his own aching length where it lays on his stomach, leaking pre into the smattering of hair there. Mountain chokes on a moan when they shift just enough to drag their dripping cunt over his little cock, and it's a miracle he doesn't cum right then and there.

Not that Mist would allow that, of course. He knows better.

"So warm," they murmur, moving their hips in gentle circles that have Mountain's thighs quivering. "How badly does he want it, hmm?"

"Bad," Mountain rasps, doing his absolute best not to hump up against Mist's inviting body. "He wants in so bad."

Mist trills, a deeply pleased sound. They raise up just enough for Mountain to see the thick trail of slick that connects their bodies, and his cock kicks so hard he grunts.

"Looks like it," Mist chuckles, gripping him again and giving a slow stroke. A blurt of pre leaks over their fingers, and Mountain's balls ache. "Little thing's drooling all over."

Mist is one to talk, their own dick dribbling a nearly constant stream of sticky fluid that pools in Mountain's belly button. He can't get his breath under control as they raise up, pointing his needy little cock up into the air while they line up.

Mountain isn't sure which of them moans louder when Mist sinks down onto him, impossibly tight and so, so slick. He grips them tight, fingertips digging firm into their back, their stomach. He watches the flat plane of it tense when they bottom out, taking his few inches with an ease that leaves his toes curling.

"There we go," Mist coos, narrow chest flushed pink as their leaking tip. They pluck at their nipples, rolling the stiff buds between their fingers and sighing. "You always fill me just right, don't you?" Mountain nods furtively, not trusting his voice when Mist clenches around him. "A perfect little cuntful."

Mountain lets his head thud back against the warm earth, swallows hard, and when Mist starts riding in an achingly slow rhythm he swears the world tilts.

"Be a good boy and make me cum," they say, low and sultry, peeling one of his hands from their waist and moving it to their swaying cock. "If you do well enough I'll even let you eat your load out of me."

Mountain whimpers, starts to stroke, and silently adores the way Mist laughs at him when he drools.

#miasma's work #the band ghost ficlets #mountain ghoul #mist ghoulette #mountain/mist #mountain x mist #what a weird pairing lmao #what do we call them? misty mountain? that feels derivative. #will think on it later

[spotsupstuff]

hi. i pretend the timeline doesn't exist and raise you: hunter and spearmaster playdates

SEE, HA IM ACTUALLY-- -points aggressively- I KEEP THINKIN ABOUT THAT. I KEEP THINKIN ABOUT LIL BAB HUNTER HAVIN PLAYDATES WITH SPEARS FUCKIN,,,

this is legit part of my interpretation lore, i fuckin love it so much- so Nish isn't very confident in his ability to be a Parent, right? not so sure he can exactly teach this slug kid how to be a proper slugcat. so he calls up Suns one day like "hey. hey could you like please.... send your messenger over, it is an emergency" and Suns, in their apathetic glory, is like "my god. not again. emergency. shit. aight, incoming..." and sends Spear over

n like!!! it ends up with Hunter viewing these two artifical purple things as her parents!!! dad 1 (the one with a green hue) and dad 2 (the one with the Long Knives)

Nish at some point explains the situation to Suns and then it becomes a whole thing where Spear comes over often to help raise her. and then one day when they become too old to make the journey over to Nish's place, Hunter comes to them to say goodbye. that's actually her first big journey out of the nest! it has a sad ending, what with this bein the last time she will see Spear, and its also kind of scary, because of what state Suns is in at that point, but yeah, we can skew the timeline a LEEETTLE for the benefits of uncle/dad Spear

#Spot says stuff #rw #Nish and Spears having consultations together on how to handle this lil shitlet girl in a good way cuz neither really fuckin knows how to- #-parent at all... NEITHER was parented what the fuck is this!!!! what if we fuck up. what if we will be bad dads. what if she wont like us #and Hunter is meanwhile in the background sleeping while hugging Nishs umbilical just thinkin how wonderful these people are for- #-looking out for her. for loving her and for holding her and helping her figure out how to hold a spear and get through all the sicknesses

[shadale-s-safe-space]

I don't know much about you as a person, but from what I can gather you've had a long journey with art, but still have the motivation to continue even when its rough. I'm sure you didn't start out making masterpieces, so if its not too much trouble, do you have any advice for a 16 year old artist losing motivation? i feel like im stagnating right now and its awful

Idk man, all I can say is, draw watchu want without the care who's gonna see it or what they gonna say , commit to new ideas and care less about pleasing everyone, because I know that way too well, I started learning by drawing animals, flowers and nature, "you should draw something else", switches to furries " No you must do human portraits", draws humans *no one fuckin cares*, and I felt miserable drawing what I didn't want all the damn time just trying to please everyone and be liked, hell, I still do that sometimes cuz I'm a dumbass. When in reality, when you do your own thing is when you're the happiest, this internet bullshit? Yeah don't trust the likes and favs, people like what they find relatable, no one really knows how much time you've spent on your drawing or how much you love it, when a 5 min doodle you did could do more than a painting that took 2 whole days to complete just to be scrapped in a new speedy record, paint what you love for yourself and you only.

Don't be shy to learn new things, I have tons of stuff I don't post here cuz I know people wouldn't care about it, but here for this post, have this that I practiced when I felt too depressed to think of anything good and wanted to step back from the MD artstyle

You'll see, you'll thrive when you draw what you want, and get yourself a drawing buddy! That way you'll stop focusing on the internet and more on each other, and each other's improvement. Tbh I struggled with that one. Since everyone I had were not into art irl, I somehow managed to find someone after 10 years of drawing alone. I honestly wanted more people to join in and make an improvement circle, but unfortunately that never happened.

I found myself twice as productive now than ever, even though I'm not active here as much I am still drawing and making things, ofc giving you more comics! And other fun things in the future I hope.

If you're struggling to draw something just do it, man commit, i was uncomfortable drawing men and male characters for years, I've wasted so many years being "too uncomfortable" and draw a naked person like yeesh who fucking cares, it's for studying.

And ofc if you feel like you're not improving at all please, please experiment with your artstyle and try something new, please refresh your mind, I was stuck for years doing the same thing over and over, same colors, same 2px brush, drawing like a machine same shit over and over, I felt so stuck and lost, but also afraid to do something new, idk why, I guess I never felt good enough or deserving of it. I also didn't go to art school, I am NOT a professional, nor will i ever be in my opinion. Hell, me feeling like I'll never be good enough left me afraid to try and apply for art school, they were asking for sculptures, different mediums all that scary stuff and I was like, I don't.. know.. how to do those things... I can't build a portfolio in less than 3 months?!?! I don't even know how to use half of what they're asking for!!

In reality at the end of the day, art is what you make of it and no one can stop you, search for inspirations and don't be afraid to try, yes you'll fail fist 2 or 10 or hell even 100 times, but you'll come back with more knowledge than ever.

For ending I give you the most confusing drawing to ever exist [dw he's just sleeping on top of her and she's just ghasping for air but awe romance or sum lol] is it weird? Yeah but I had a fun time making it hahaha

Idk I'm bad at putting my thoughts together, but hopefully some of this helps.

#murder drones #murder drones oc #artists on tumblr #digital painting

[lovable-liar]

Fic idea in case you need a fic idea for a rainy day (only approach if you’re in the mood to write an entire fic and need an idea):

You and lunch club!schlatt break up after years of being in a semi-toxic relationship. Schlatt realizes how much he fucked up and how important you are to his life this after a week or two post-breakup and decides to try to get you back. This doesn’t work obviously… but the way he was so genuine, sincere, and vulnerable did make your already broken heart sting a lot and make you wanna almost get back with him right then and there (what can I say? he has a way with words 🤷) but you reject his advances nonetheless because the mistakes he made of neglect and drunkenness are too much to bare. So he promises you that he’ll become a better man and the person you deserve, you’re flattered but you obviously don’t believe him, but he promises you that he’ll change for the better.

And he does just that, even pulling a Mr. Darcy of writing all of his wrongs; he drinks less, he goes to therapy to manage his shit, he spends more time with his loved ones, he gets cats, etc. etc.

Meanwhile, you start dating again but almost every relationship post-schlatt don’t really feel right and you break up within a week. The ones who do don’t really go past a month due to problems on their side and eventually you give up on relationships all together, opting to just focus on you, your hobbies, your pets, and your friends.

Those same friends are what made you and schlatt meet for the first time in two-three years and boy seeing him again is like night and day.

He clearly has gotten more wiser (and handsomer) over the years and just he seems more calmer, more content with himself. You watch him as he interacts with his friends and coworkers alike and he is still just as (if not more) charming and funny as he was all those years ago. You couldn’t help but feel a familiar warm tingly feeling inside as his brown eyes stare softly at you, he’s clearly still in love with you.

You went outside and watched the stars ‘cause the party you were in was starting to get a lil’ crazy ngl, but as you felt the summer night wind blowing onto your skin and hair… you felt a hand on your shoulder.

You jump as you look behind you, only to see your ex behind.

“Hey doll.”

“h-hi…”

“Long time, no see.”

You notice as you two started conversing how his voice and accent has gotten deeper over the years, with the rumble and preciseness of his voice making you feel things inside *wink wink* ;)

That isn’t the only thing that changed ether, his larger frame and his features are reflected beautifully in the moonlight, his chops and stache highlighting his perfectly round face.

He chuckled.

“Like what ya see?”

You blush, clearly he still has an effect on you, and it’s only gotten stronger after seeing him and his changes.

But as he gets closer to you, you couldn’t help but move away from him cause at the end of the day, no matter how perfectly handsome he’s gotten, to you he’s still that same drunk coward that you’ve broken up with…

He backs off after seeing your tense response.

“Shit! ‘M sorry toots, ‘s shoulda asked before approaching you like that…”

“It’s fine…”

“No.”

“Wh… wha-“

“NO ITS NOT FUCKING ‘FINE’ TOOTS! I SHOULDA ASKED FOR YA FUCKIN’ BOUNDARIES BEFORE APPROACHING YOU LIKE THAT, ‘SPECIALLY AFTER BEING SUCH A SHIT BOYFRIEND T’ YOU!!”

This was the moment you saw that maybe… just maybe… he may’ve kept his promise from all those years ago…

And after awhile of you guys being emotional and vulnerable (and you guys making out at one point) you decide to try this whole relationship thing again.

But this time, you guys are taking things slow.

-🍰

@lvrj4mie

Listen to 'Abstract (Psychopomp)' by Hozier while reading.

"𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀"

Time had marched on, and the years witnessed the gradual unwinding of your life with Schlatt, bringing it to a bittersweet conclusion. The relationship had been a tumultuous journey, a roller coaster of emotions and experiences that had taken you both to highs and lows. It had been marked by moments of laughter and love, but also by the darker shades of neglect, intoxication, and emotional turmoil.

It wasn't an easy decision, but you found the courage to walk away from what had once been so familiar. Deep down, you knew it was the right choice, even though it meant saying goodbye to a significant part of your life. The weight of emotional turbulence, nights filled with drunken turmoil, and the ever-present sense of neglect had become too much for you to bear.

The relationship, once a source of companionship and affection, had turned into a source of distress and unease. You had outgrown the toxic patterns that had defined your connection with Schlatt, and the desire for a healthier, more stable life had led you to this pivotal moment. The decision to part ways was painful, but it was a step towards personal growth and the pursuit of happiness and well-being.

Schlatt, however, was not one to immediately recognize his shortcomings. It took him a week or two of partying and hookups post-breakup to realize just how much he had messed up, how important you were to his life. He decided to make amends and try to win you back, showing a level of vulnerability and sincerity that tugged at your already broken heart.

His genuine words and the deep remorse he expressed made you waver for a moment. He had a way with words, and it stung to see him so vulnerable, so willing to change for you. But the memories of the pain you'd endured throughout your previous relationship and the way his eyes remained on the floor during his apology (which was expressed with a voice not unlike that of a child's) were too fresh, and felt too artificial, you knew that trust needed to be rebuilt from the ground up.

Schlatt's earnest promise was one that stirred both flattery and caution in your heart. As he professed his desire to transform into a better man, one worthy of the person you deserved, you couldn't help but be touched by his sincerity. But you were wise enough to be cautious, not entirely convinced that change would come easy.

He was persistent in his efforts to win back your trust and affection, vowing to change for you. However, you knew that this kind of transformation wasn't something that could happen overnight. Schlatt's eagerness to mend his ways was admirable, but you recognized that it would be a journey filled with its own set of challenges and hurdles.

Your hesitation was grounded in the understanding that true change required time, patience, and dedication, and you knew that Schlatt's optimism might not fully grasp the depth of the commitment required. Nevertheless, you remained open to the possibility of growth and healing, cautiously watching as he began to take those first steps towards becoming a better man for your sake.

After several months of Schlatt's persistent inquiries, where he repeatedly asked if he had become good enough for you yet, you would respond with a simple, "What do you think?" It was an open-ended question that left him in the realm of uncertainty, and while he longed for a definitive answer, you were still grappling with your own reservations.

The back-and-forth exchange weighed heavily on both of you, leaving Schlatt's hopes in limbo and your heart in a state of indecision. It was a tug of war between the past and the uncertain future.

Eventually, after much contemplation and the realization that Schlatt's persistence wasn't enough to change the past, you made the difficult decision to block his number. It was an act of self-preservation, a step towards emotional healing, and a way to protect your boundaries and find the clarity you needed to move forward.

You ventured back into the dating world, hoping to discover the connection and happiness you once shared with Schlatt. However, it seemed that every relationship post-Schlatt left a void, as if the depth of connection you were searching for had been lost. Some relationships fizzled out within a week, failing to ignite the sparks of passion and understanding you sought. Others stumbled upon various issues, leading to their untimely demise after a mere month.

The accumulating frustration and disappointment began to overshadow the hope of finding something meaningful. In light of these experiences, you eventually decided to give up on relationships altogether. It was time to redirect your focus toward the aspects of life that brought you joy and fulfillment. You embraced your hobbies with a newfound intensity, dived deeper into your passions, and cherished the companionship of your pets.

Your friends continued to be pillars of support, and you treasured the bonds you had cultivated over the years. This chapter of your life was defined by personal growth, self-discovery, and the pursuit of a life filled with purpose and contentment. In the absence of romantic relationships, you found that you had everything you needed to flourish, with a future that held the promise of happiness on your own terms.

This chapter of your life was marked by personal growth, self-discovery, and the pursuit of a life that resonated with your own desires and aspirations. Without the turbulence and complications of romantic relationships, you found the space and freedom to focus on yourself, your needs, and your passions.

You delved deeper into your hobbies, dedicating time to your creative outlets, whether it was through painting, cooking, or any other creative endeavor that brought you joy and fulfillment. Your artistic pursuits became not only a form of self-expression but also a source of solace and purpose.

Your pets remained cherished companions, and you nurtured your relationships with them, finding comfort and unwavering companionship in their presence. Their loyalty and unconditional love were a source of solace during moments of solitude. And when they died, you knew that they had fulfilled their purpose of comforting you during a dark time and that the light at the end of the tunnel was getting ever closer. But that didn't mean it didn't hurt.

Your friends provided a solid foundation for you to lean on and a shoulder to cry on, and you reveled in the warmth and comfort of their company. They celebrated your achievements with you and provided a supportive network that enriched your life and helped you find a sense of belonging and purpose.

As you immersed yourself in these experiences, felt and recognized the pain that came along with being alive, and surrounded yourself with the people and activities that brought you joy, you discovered that you had everything you needed to flourish and lead a fulfilling life. The absence of romantic relationships did not diminish your happiness; instead, it allowed you to focus on creating a future that was defined by your own terms, where contentment and purpose were the guiding stars of your journey.

It was during a casual get-together with those very friends that you and Schlatt met again, two or three years after the breakup. Seeing him once more was like night and day. He had grown wiser and more handsome, radiating a newfound calm and contentment. Watching him interact with friends and coworkers, his charm and humor remained as strong, if not stronger, than before. He looked happier. You noted he also looked well-fed, it wasn't due to alcohol but actually healthy food.

He looked so happy, and you were happy. And you were happy for him. The depths of his brown eyes held a soft, lingering gaze that seemed to unravel the layers of time. In that intimate moment of catching his eye, it was undeniably clear that he was still in love with you, and the embers of affection that had once blazed so brightly still glowed warmly within him. His unspoken emotions resonated through his gaze, a testament to the depth of his feelings, which time had not diminished.

You stole a quiet moment outside, beneath the velvety expanse of the star-studded night sky. The gentle breeze of the summer night caressed your skin and tousled your hair, offering a serene backdrop to your contemplation.

As you gazed at the shimmering constellations above, a hand, light and tender, came to rest upon your shoulder, causing you to jump ever so slightly. The unexpected touch sent a jolt of surprise through your body. Slowly, you turned around to discover Schlatt standing there, his presence a sudden and unforeseen interruption to your solitary reverie.

"Hey, doll,"

You turned to face him, meeting his gaze with a mix of surprise and uncertainty. "Hi..."

"Long time, no see," he continued, a touch of nostalgia in his voice. His words held the weight of the years that had passed, a reminder of the time that had slipped away since your last encounter.

You couldn't help but notice the deepening timbre of his voice, a resonant cadence that had matured over the years. The rumble and precision of his words held a captivating allure, sending a subtle shiver down your spine, one you couldn't quite ignore.

A mischievous grin spread across Schlatt's face, mischief dancing in his eyes. "Like what ya see?" he teased, his tone laced with the familiarity of an old flame, and a subtle challenge, as if inviting you to explore the undeniable chemistry that still lingered between you.

As your cheeks grew hot, you couldn't help but acknowledge the profound effect Schlatt still had on you. The years had not diminished the magnetic pull he seemed to exert over your heart. His presence had only grown more potent with time, and your undeniable attraction to him remained an unspoken truth.

But, as much as his changed appearance and charismatic demeanor tempted you, you couldn't simply dismiss the past. The shadows of the previous relationship still loomed large in your memory. Despite the transformation in his physicality and personality, you found it challenging to erase the image of the same drunkard who had once caused you pain. The scars of those memories ran deep, and they served as a poignant reminder of the reasons you had chosen to walk away.

Instinctively, your body tensed, and you took an involuntary step back as Schlatt's sudden approach caught you off guard. It was as if the echoes of your past relationship were still etched in your subconscious, prompting an automatic response of caution.

Schlatt, ever perceptive, noticed your discomfort immediately. His face softened, and his eyes conveyed a deep sense of understanding. "Shit! I'm sorry, toots," he admitted, his voice tinged with genuine remorse. "I should've asked before approaching you like that..."

His heartfelt apology hinted at the progress he had made in acknowledging his past behavior and recognizing the need for boundaries and respect. It was a moment of genuine reflection, a gesture that left you considering the possibility of a different future.

Your response was cautious, a hesitant, "It's fine," escaping your lips as you tried to manage the mix of emotions within you.

Schlatt, however, was unyielding in his apology. He shook his head, a firm resolve in his eyes. "No," he insisted, refusing to accept your concession.

Confusion took hold, and you stammered, searching for words, "Wha—"

"NO, IT'S NOT FUCKING 'FINE,' TOOTS!" Schlatt's voice carried the weight of years of regret and the raw emotions of his past actions. "I SHOULD HAVE ASKED IF YOU WERE COMFORTABLE WITH ME BEIN' CLOSE TO YOU AFTER ALL I'VE DONE TO YOU!"

His words were laced with an intensity that seemed to surge from deep within him, an outpouring of remorse, like an immensely heavy ball and chain that he had been dragging along all these years. The guttural emotion in his voice resonated with the profound sincerity of his feelings, and it was impossible to ignore the depth of his regret and the promise of change.

In that poignant moment, something in Schlatt's demeanor reached deep within you, sparking a glimmer of hope that he had indeed kept the promise he made years ago. The genuine remorse in his eyes and his readiness to make amends spoke volumes. It was a turning point, a moment of reckoning that held the potential for healing and forgiveness.

After a heartfelt and emotional conversation where both of you bared your souls and acknowledged the pain of the past, there was an unexpected, passionate moment when your lips met his as rain began pouring from the night sky. It was a raw and unscripted exchange of emotions, a rediscovery of the connection that had once drawn you together.

With your newfound understanding and the burning desire to rebuild the bridge that you had burned and road-blocked, you decided to give your relationship with Schlatt another chance. However, this time, you both agreed to take things slowly, savoring each moment and giving your hearts the time they needed to mend and reconnect.

As you observed Schlatt's transformation and maturation over the years, it became increasingly evident that he had become a changed man. His dedication to personal growth, his commitment to healing past wounds, and his maturing understanding of what it meant to be a better partner painted a promising future. With each step forward, you were willing to explore this new beginning, guided by caution, but also by the belief that love and change were possible. Together, you embarked on a journey to rebuild the trust and connection that had once seemed irretrievably lost.

And, deep in your heart, you knew this chapter would be your favorite.

#jschlatt x reader #jschlatt #jschlatt fluff #schlatt #schlatt fluff #schlatt x reader #jschlatt angst #schlatt angst

[kooldewd123]

Back in August, we had the anniversary of Ash’s famous Kalos League loss. It's a battle you see talked about time and time again. It's often held up by fans as the one big stain on XY, a disgraceful way for the writers to end Ash’s Kalos journey.

I beg to differ.

I want to offer a different perspective on this loss, because I don't really agree with most of the criticisms levied against it. I don't think it portrays Ash in a negative light, or goes against his development, or anything like that. In fact, I think it’s quite the opposite. I planned to make a post talking about why I feel the loss fits Ash’s character arc back when I started seeing posts commemorating its anniversary, but I had so much to say about Ash’s characterization in this series that it took me until now to write it all down (also i procrastinated).

First of all, I want to address one of the most common critiques of the loss, since it leads nicely into the main point I want to make. This take essentially boils down to "XY had an Ash that was stronger than ever before. Losing goes against that." It's not a wrong reading of the series per se, but it does feel a bit… reductive to me. Yes, XY is about Ash getting stronger. But so are DP, SM, BW, and all the others. Ash becoming stronger over the course of the series is just something we can expect by default. A good Ash story needs to do something else on top of that, and XY especially needed to find an extra angle to his character since he starts the series already near the top of his game. It's actually a similar situation to DP: he came into that series fresh off his victories in the Battle Frontier, and so rather than simply coasting with a story about how strong he is, the writers brought in Paul to challenge him not just in battle, but in terms of philosophy as well.

So with all that said, what is Ash's story in XY actually about, then? Well, the comparison is often made that Ash is the "Brock" of the XY gang, and it's not an unfounded one. He's the most experienced member of the group, as well as the most well put together. The others look to him for leadership, guidance, and inspiration even more than Ash ever did for Brock. More than in any other series, XY Ash is defined by the way he interacts with his friends, and the reverse is also true for them. Let's take a detour and try to quickly run down their character arcs so you can really see what I mean:

Serena starts the series aimless. She’s discontent with her life, wanting something more. Recognizing Ash on TV and remembering his words to "never give up" is what gives her the push to finally take the first steps of her own story. However, those first steps are all she takes. She wants to get away from her mother, but is once again adrift as soon as she meets Ash. She bounces from activity to activity for a while, only deciding to become a Performer after meeting Shauna and having the sudden realization that she doesn't have a long-term goal like Ash. Wanting to be as determined as Ash is, she finally has something to actively work for and even confronts her mother with her newfound passion. She thinks of Ash to give her strength as she starts her first Showcase, and after she messes up, she remembers his advice to "never give up" and continues onward, even incorporating a ribbon she had received from Ash into her outfit to signify her resolve. Ash is at the center of every stage of Serena's journey. Nearly everything she does can be somehow traced back to Ash in one way or another.

That's all well and good, but it's just one example, and Serena's a bit of an extreme case, anyway. For more evidence, let's look at Clemont. The first time he meets Ash, Ash gets thrown out of Prism Tower, immediately brushes himself off and challenges Clemont to a battle, fights off a group of Pokemon thieves (which is apparently a regular occurrence for him), goes after a rampaging Garchomp with his bare hands, and ends the day off by jumping off the top of the fucking Prism Tower with literally zero hesitation. Following that buck wild first impression, Clemont harbors an immense amount of both admiration and intellectual curiosity for Ash. He constantly praises Ash for his unique battle style, and wants to study it so he can become an even better Gym Leader. He begins taking cues from Ash's style as early as his confrontation with Clembot, as he has to think of unorthodox ways to outsmart the robot programmed to act like him. Following this battle, he and Ash agree to have their Gym battle once Ash has obtained his fourth badge. Ash becomes Clemont's goalpost: having seen what Ash is capable of, he wants to be a Gym Leader worthy of fighting him. And when we finally reach this battle, he proves that he has absolutely succeeded, incorporating everything he's learned from Ash and more into their climactic showdown. 

While Ash’s companions in other series generally have stories that run parallel to his, XY stands out by placing Ash right at the center of both Serena and Clemont’s personal journeys. Ash permeates XY in a deeper way than any series before or since. This might be a weird thing to say, but XY isn't really about Ash per se. It's about the idea of Ash. To Serena, Ash is the representation of all the personal qualities she desires, yet lacks. To Clemont, Ash is a new way of battling, something that can help him improve his own abilities even further. So then, what is Ash… to Ash?

I know I just set that up as a big question, but the answer’s actually fairly simple. It's pretty clear that Ash recognizes the effect he has on his friends, and so he leans into it for their benefit. He's constantly trying to improve both himself and Clemont for their eventual battle, and is incredibly encouraging towards Serena every time she takes another step towards her goal (in fact, Serena is possibly the female companion that Ash is least sassy towards, although he’s also just less sassy than usual in this series anyway). Even with his Pokemon, this trait shines through. Froakie was a trouble child for every Trainer that Sycamore had given it to before, yet it respects Ash nearly instantly after seeing him in action. Ash’s encouragement and support is what gives Goomy the strength to grow and take back its home. He acts more parental towards Noibat than any baby Pokemon he had before, but also steps back enough to let Hawlucha take the lead raising it since he sees how strongly the two of them bond.

So here in XY we have a strong, self-assured, mature Ash who takes on a leadership role among the main cast. It’s an Ash that truly feels like he’s been through years of journeys and growth. But if he starts out the series so well-developed, where can his character arc take him?

Enter Sawyer. Not long after Ash has his battle with Clemont, he’s introduced to Sawyer, a rookie Trainer who had lost to Clemont shortly before. On the surface, this doesn’t immediately seem like the makings of a particularly compelling rivalry: an experienced veteran Ash versus a novice with only a single Gym badge to his name. Ash is undeniably the superior one in this dynamic. But once the two of them begin interacting, it becomes immediately clear how much heart there is to their relationship. Ash, ever the older brother figure, sees how much potential Sawyer has and wants to watch him unlock it. Sawyer, the analytical battler, takes notes from Ash’s battles and studies him in a manner not unlike Clemont to learn how to improve himself. Sawyer’s notes pay off in a big way, as he improves at an astronomical pace, winning four more badges in the time it takes Ash to earn just one, and even reaching his eighth before Ash does. Ash and Sawyer have one last battle before Ash heads to win his eight Gym badge, but for the first time, Sawyer manages to surpass and beat Ash. Although he’s glad to have won, his victory shakes both of them. Although they don’t say it directly, they can tell that something’s wrong. Sawyer decides to follow Ash to Snowbelle City to watch him beat Wulfric, but again, Ash loses. Between these two losses, as well as his struggle to master the Bond phenomenon, Ash begins to spiral, and it’s the first time we truly see him grapple with self-doubt in this series. Sawyer looks up to Ash, yet he had failed to live up to Sawyer’s vision of him. And if he’s failed Sawyer, who else has he failed? His companions? His Pokemon? With the image of himself as a mentor and an inspiration thrown into jeopardy, he begins to act uncharacteristically, running off into the woods alone and lashing out at Serena when she tries to help him. After cooling off a bit, he helps some Spewpa trapped in a tree and is saved by Greninja when the branch breaks. One of the Spewpa is blown off a nearby cliff, and when Ash and Greninja both jump into action to save it, they perfect the Ash-Greninja form for the very first time. The entire experience causes Ash to realize that the image of himself as someone everyone could count on had been weighing down on him much more heavily than he had thought. Because of it, he had been placing too much responsibility on himself. He needed to master the Bond phenomenon to become stronger for his team. He needed to beat Wulfric to prove himself to Sawyer. But in the end, he couldn’t do it alone, and ultimately ended up caving under the pressure without even realizing it. It’s only with the help of his friends and Pokemon that he’ll be able to move forward and actually accomplish what he’s set out to do. With that in mind, he’s finally able to reach synchronicity with Greninja, beat Wulfric, and make his way to the Kalos League.

In the semifinals, Ash finally comes face-to-face with Sawyer once again. As the two of them clash, Sawyer recognizes Ash once again. The cloud that had covered him in Snowbelle is gone, and the two of them can have a proper battle. Sawyer can truly show Ash just how far he’s come (and maybe even surpass him for real), and Ash can prove that he won’t falter again. That he really is the person everyone thinks he is. And with Ash-Greninja’s final Water Shuriken, Ash does just that. This battle, not the finals match against Alain, is the conclusion of Ash’s arc in XY. The Trainer that everyone looks up buckling under the weight of those expectations, and yet still managing to prove them right by coming out the other side stronger. I feel it can often get sadly overlooked in favor of the finals, but it’s a satisfying way to encapsulate what XY Ash is all about.

So what’s the deal with the finals, then? Why go through all of this just to have him lose in the end? Doesn’t that undermine the whole message? Well, no, actually. In a vacuum, it might seem that way, but I feel that removing it from the context surrounding it (as you often see in discourse about it) is doing it a disservice. The most important thing about the finals match is that it isn’t really Ash’s battle in the way the semifinals were. Ash’s arc is finished. This is Alain’s battle. Alain’s arc throughout the series effectively boils down to the idea that he wants to gain power in order to protect the people he cares about, first to defend Professor Sycamore’s research, and later to heal Chespie. He’s drawn to the Kalos League by the promise of many strong opponents to train himself against, Ash chief among them. This relentless drive for power, while good-intentioned, leads him to work for Lysandre, blinded to his true motivations. Alain’s victory in the Kalos League is the tipping point of his arc. He’s won the League, proving himself to be among the strongest Trainers in the entire region. And yet, at his moment of victory, when he’s achieved the strength he desired, Team Flare attacks, threatening the entire region. Key to Team Flare’s plans are Z2, whom Alain had helped capture, and the Mega Evolution energy he had helped them study. I often see people upset about Ash’s League loss trying to spin it into a story about Ash learning that winning isn’t everything, but it’s actually the opposite. Alain is the one learning that winning isn’t everything. In his quest for power, he had inadvertently brought danger to the very people he was trying to protect, with Sycamore and Chespie both being directly in Lysandre’s crosshairs.

And all of this eventually leads us to a scene where Lysandre, Alain, and Ash are on Prism Tower together. Alain is paralyzed by his emotions, distraught at what he had unwittingly brought about. Lysandre imprisons Ash and tries to force him to work for him like Alain had, but Ash refuses and breaks free using the Bond phenomenon. And for one final time, we see Ash inspiring people to be better. Seeing Ash act without hesitation, never for a second even considering forsaking his morals and working with Lysandre the way he did, Alain snaps out of his stupor and finally confronts Lysandre. Alain may be the stronger Trainer, but Ash is the better Trainer. Captured, outmatched, and weary from the League, Ash still chose to fight. Win or lose, Ash is still the best, like no one ever was.

#pokemon #pokemon xy #anipoke #ash ketchum #greninja #pokemon sawyer #pokemon alain #koolmathgames.com

[nvmadic]

hi charlie :) just thinking about stargazing with best friend! schlatt and sharing your first kiss with him under the stars🥹

-stella <3

hi stella, i order you and this prompt.

he was bored and decided to pick you up in the early hours of the morning. he was busy with moving so he ended up picking you up in a small truck which he was using to pack up his furniture.

it was kind of old, the leather seats worn and there was a strange lingering smell which you both laughed about the entire journey, but the aux cable worked and that's all he cared about.

you grabbed some snacks from a gas station and pulled off on a dirt road away from the noise of the busy roads, into a small cluster of fields with trees. no light pollution to obscure the view of the dark navy sky above.

he had packed some blankets and laid them out in the bed of the truck for you to both lie down in with your snacks, just watching the sky whilst you both rambled about life.

both pointing out constellations, looking up at the different shapes the stars were making. all the while, you could feel his eyes boring into the side of your head whilst you looked up at the sky.

every time you'd turn to look at him, he'd sheepishly return his gaze to the stars. his gaze distant, almost as if he was lost in his own head.

there was a long silence, his mouth agape for a moment or two as if it seemed like he was unsure whether he should say what he wanted or not.

"the sky's pretty," he started softly which you nodded to, "but, god, you're just as gorgeous."

you turned to him unsure of how you should feel. sure, you were best friends and there was flirtatious banter but he had never sounded so serious.

he watched you intently, his face calm but there was an explosion of anxiety swelling beneath the surface as he awaited your response.

you didn't say anything, you just edged closer to him and pressed your lips against his, cupping his cheek. his hand eventually and instinctively found its place on the small of your back as he pulled you closer.

the kiss seemed to last a lifetime, you could even feel your own stomach knot, adrenaline rushing through every vein of your body. maybe you didn't put much thought into kissing him but it just felt so right.

pulling away to look at his content face, smiling from ear to ear. trying to subdue how excited he was, but he couldn't because he was just so happy.

"you've no idea how long i've wanted to fuckin' kiss you," he mumbled softly, allowing your head to rest on his chest which was thumping at a million miles an hour.

#stella #asks #jschlatt #jschlatt x reader #schlatt x reader #jschlatt x you #schlatt x you #schlatt imagine #schlatt hcs #jschlatt hcs #jschlatt fluff #schlatt fluff #jschlatt imagine