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livingemkayde · 5 months

Text

between blurred lines

best friend's dad!/dad's best friend!joel miller x f!reader

(pre-outbreak)

↳ warnings: this is rated for 18+ only! minors, please do not interact. smut, unprotected pinv, fingering f! receiving, cockwarming (!?!?!?) uhh dom!joel, significant age gap, dad's best friend mixed with some best friends dad (?!!?!?!?). i think that's it, let me know if i forgot anything.

↳ a/n: I LOOK PRETTY GOOD FOR A DEAD BITCH (she's alive!). im back from my tumblr break bearing a gift! i missed you all like crazy. gonna spend finals week catching up (procrastinating) on all the reading ive missed out on for the last month. i hope you guys like this one.

AND a very special thanks to @joelsversion for beta reading this in it's very early rough, rough stages. my ride or die fr 🤞

↳ summary: joel miller has always been...there. never different, always sporting a brooding scowl etched into his handsome face. he's your best friend sarah miller's dad, arguably worse, your dad's long time buddy. things are never different. not until this summer. not until now.

↳ follow @livingemkaydenotifs if you would like to be notified about more fics like this. love ya'll big time

↳ if you would like to read more of mine: masterlist

“You shouldn’t be in here.” “No,” you agree breathlessly. “I shouldn’t.” He slots himself against you, his other hand grips your hip and pushes you back into him. You gasp softly. “Let it go.” You realize he’s talking about your dress. You squeeze your eyes shut. His lips skate against your neck in a way that makes you dip your head to the side in a silent surrender. “Let it go,” he repeats.

You grew up with Sarah Miller.

Soccer teams, high school football pep rallies, prom, homecoming, college acceptance season. Even though it turned into long distance facetime calls, and text chains nine messages long once college hit, Sarah Miller will forever and always be your best friend.

It’s good to be back in Texas. Both you and Sarah moved back into your childhood homes the second after graduation hit. It’s good to be back, good to see her, your parents, and…Joel.

You hadn’t seen him in a while. The last time you remember spending more than five minutes in his passing presence was when you and Sarah decided on that Chinese place for a post-high school graduation ceremony meal. He’s close with your dad. In an old school kind of way. In a lets raise our kids together kind of way and a the wives can go shopping together kind of way — before Sarah’s mom split, that is.

Joel Miller, always brooding, always gruff and quiet. He’s never different. Though, you can’t help but think things might be different now—

No. You almost have to remind yourself out loud. He’s not different. He never is. He’s Joel Miller and you’re — you’re just a kid. You’re as old as his kid.

Sarah, despite your hardened efforts, managed to drag you out of bed and into the shortest dress you own for a night at some club halfway across town.

“Sarah, are the shot glasses still in the top cabinet?”

You reach for the knob, barely getting onto the balls of your feet before slipping on the cold laminate tiles in the kitchen. Your open palm balls into a fist and makes the cabinets shutter. Sarah responds with something from her room equally as unintelligible as your question was to her. You can feel your dress starting to ride up a little in your efforts, but you rifle through the Miller’s cabinets like it’s your own home. In some ways it is.

“Hey, kid.”

You spin around, and quickly shuffle the hem of your dress back down. He nods his head in a lazy greeting.

“Hey.” You’re breathless for some reason. It’s not because of the shot glasses.

“Been a while,” Joel says, shuffling into the kitchen and setting a mug in the sink. He looks the same. Tousled hair and a beard just beginning to tinge gray. He’s always — always the same.

You clear your throat. “Yeah. Been a while.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

“Good to have you back,” he mumbles, settling back against the kitchen counter. You can see his arms flex when his palms settle onto the countertop. He’s strong, so much bigger than you. You never really noticed the big broadness of him until now. You’re not used to guys like him. All the boys you ever really experienced were clean shaven, soft in a way that told you they’ve never hauled ass through a day’s work. A lifetime of work.

“Good to be back.” He clocks your outfit. You try to change the subject. “How are things?”

“Same ol’ same ol’.” He grabs a beer from the fridge. “Your dad’s gettin’ into golf. Tryna make me go out with him.”

You laugh. “Not your scene?”

“No, not quite.” He shakes his head, sipping on his beer with a smirk that almost makes your knees weak. “What’d you study again?”

You scoff playfully. “Like you remembered in the first place.”

“Play along.” He smirks.

A knot sticks to your stomach, just below your navel. His voice is sickly sweet. Syrupy and Texan. His voice is like medicine.

“Education. Just applied for jobs in the fall.”

“You teachin’?”

“That’s the plan,” you let out with a breathless kind of laugh.

“Smart girl.”

His head cocks, and tilts it to the side. Your breath catches in your throat, palms sweaty against the black fabric of your dress. “Hardly.”

He pauses, eyes you. It’s fleeting—you might think you dream it. You pick at the skin of your own thumb.

“Your dad know you’re goin’ out?”

You scoff. “I’m an adult. Don’t need my dad’s permission.”

“Don’t be a smart ass.”

You eye him, a smirk plays on his lips.

“I’m not—just…grown up, I guess.”

Something unreadable spreads across his face. “I guess.”

You hitch a tough breath.

“What’d you need?” He swigs at his beer.

“Oh.” You look back towards the cabinets, then. “Shot glasses.”

“Moved ‘em,” he nods and stalks forward, backing you against the counter. He’s got a dark swirl of something warming behind his gaze. You don’t try to scoot away. Even when he reaches up next to your head and you hear the clink of two shot glasses brush up against each other in his fingers.

“Don’t have too much fun,” he whispers while he pushes the glasses into your hands and leaves the kitchen.

You desperately, for your life, cannot keep up with Sarah Miller.

She drinks entirely too quickly, efficiently, and practiced for your poor alcohol tolerance to keep up with. She’s a machine, and after three shots in, you’re already wasted. It wasn’t even midnight when your vision started to pull in a sideways direction and everything seemed a little slow. You knew things were taking a turn for the worst when the blonde quaffed frat guy with a Texas A&M polo shirt started sounding a little too funny. He was glued to your hip the entire night, though you aren’t sure you even remember his name correctly. You have your bets set on Colter, but then again, after your second shot, everything started to sound a little fuzzy to your rosied ears.

And when Colter called you and Sarah an Uber at three a.m., you didn’t have the guts to ask him his name, only shooting him a half hearted thanks over your shoulder—your liquid courage having sobered up by the time the Uber rounded the corner to the Miller’s house.

Even though Sarah Miller can throw back shots like it’s her day job, she passed out onto her bed as quickly as you both left her childhood bedroom while running late for your driver to the club.

Before she promptly fell asleep, she mumbled something almost unintelligible into the pink sheets of her twin sized bed. But you could make it out enough to spring back from her words while your heart skipped a beat.

“Get a shirt from my dads room.”

So you knock, quietly, almost too quietly, and when you rap your knuckles against the wood of Joel Miller’s bedroom door a little harder, it pushes open slightly. The crack of it floods black, you can’t see inside, only the dim night sky illuminating the window sill and curtains in its wake.

When you push it open a little further, the door creaks so loud you push your eyebrows together with worry and freeze in your timely steps. But it’s empty. The bed isn’t entirely made, the covers a little rumpled and haphazard. You spot his dresser and make a quick beeline for it, itching to get out of your uncomfortable dress.

The drawer slides open with a shift of wood on wood and you snatch up the first black t-shirt you find sitting neatly on top of the pile. Subconsciously, you bring it to your nose—sunlight, and evergreens, and a little hint of musk that peaks through the laundry detergent. The worn, soft cotton of it makes you sigh deep into the dark bedroom. You close your eyes, ball your fist up around the collar and lean into the dresser with your palm fitting against the edge of wood. Just as you turn around and move to close the drawer in your exit, a voice pulls your eyes up from the darkness.

“What’re you doin’?”

You jump, almost instinctively bringing his shirt to your chest. A sinking, uneasy feeling settles right under your throat. It’s almost like you’ve been caught red handed—you most definitely were.

You don’t say anything. The light pouring in from the hallway surely illuminates you enough. Joel’s eyes trail down to your bare legs, then to his shirt you have clutched in your hands.

“That my shirt?” He points to your chest with a vague gesture of his hands. You look down at the material balled up in between your shaky fingers, then back to his eyes.

“I don’t—” You shake your head even though you know your efforts are fruitless. The least you can do is tell the truth.

“Sarah—she’s—she’s sleeping. Told me to get clothes in here.” You make a slight nod of your head towards his open dresser. He doesn’t say anything, but he takes a step towards you.

“Sorry, I can just—” You point towards the door behind him, and move to leave.

“‘S fine,” he mumbles in that deepened, soaked drawl. All honey, and velvet, wrapping you up into something warm and inviting. It tugs at something just beneath your belly.

When he gets closer, your breath punches out in a staggered rise and fall of your chest. Your fingers don’t move from clutching his shirt. When he nears, he slips a hand past you, brushing your waist, and shuts the drawer closed with a soft thunk.

Your breath catches in your throat, his eyes trail your figure.

“Fun night?”

You clear your throat, nod, slowly, still studying his darkened gaze. “Yeah.”

You clock how close he is when you put your weight on one hip and his jeans brush up against your bare thigh. His breath swirls on your eyelashes. He tugs on his shirt in your hands and lets out a hearty sigh. Shifting from one foot to the other, then again. It seems like you both stay like that for years.

Brown. His eyes are brown—maybe a little darker than they normally are. His eyes try not to roam, but that hint of something is gone before you can blink.

He backs away then, towards the door. Most likely seeing you out. He settles near the entrance and looks back at you. Your bare feet shuffle through the carpet. He nudges the door open with a rough palm on the doorknob, leaning against the frame as you approach.

You’re about to leave, but he catches your elbow, and you spin back to him in a desperate kind of way.

“You look pretty,” he whispers to your surprise. “Forgot t’mention it earlier.”

Pretty.

He thinks you’re pretty. You didn’t even think pretty was in his vocabulary.

You didn’t think he would notice.

You don’t say anything. Your eyebrows furrow with want. You study him, eye his brown stare and the way his chest rises and falls under the navy blue t-shirt he’s wearing. And you slowly—slowly push the door shut. You both watch it close. It clicks, the sound of it deafening to your ears.

He would never, ever make the first move. You’re smart enough to know that for certain, but—pretty. He thinks you’re pretty, and after all this time, it’s still always Joel.

So you turn your back to him, swipe your hair over one shoulder and turn your head to the side. You can hear him silently swear under his breath.

“You mind?” you say, gesturing to the zipper of your dress. His soft steps pads on the floor. You can almost feel his chest against your shoulder blades.

His fingers toy with the zipper, hot and rough but—hesitant. He pulls it down slowly anyways, exposing your back to the crisp air conditioned air, and the heat of his gaze. The straps fall as the zipper does, he curses again, succumbing to your decided fate.

You hold the front of your dress to your body on instinct, even though the only thing you want to do right now involves him ripping it off you.

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t do anything else—doesn’t back away or come closer or leave. So you reach your hand backward to find him and gasp softly when his fingers tangle with yours. You pull his hand to your body. He locks onto your waist like a leech.

“What’re you doin’?” He rasps against the shell of your ear, almost like he’s pleading with you. He sounds like he’s in pain. Maybe he’s torn between pleasure and good judgment. You want him to forget about the latter entirely.

Your stomach drops, you glance to the side again.

“I thought—”

“You thought, what?”

Your face goes hot, stare at your feet instead. His hand doesn’t leave you.

“I don’t…”

“You thought this was a good idea?”

You don’t say anything. For some reason you didn’t think it was a bad idea. Not when his hand reaches around to grab your hip.

“What would your daddy think?”

“I don’t really care what he thinks.” An admission more than anything.

He sucks in a breath. A quiet contemplation. The look on his face doesn't read pissed, but it's a far cry from happy. You don't know what is behind his gaze.

“Nothin’ but trouble.” He breathes out in a heavy sigh. “Ain’t ya?”

His voice is so much deeper now. His accent shows through, silken and so southern it makes you grip your dress a little harder on instinct. You’ve lost count of how many times your breath has gotten caught up in the tightness of your throat.

“‘S one word for it.”

He almost growls, his hand skits down to the hem of your dress and pushes his fingers under it, trailing upward, but stopping before he meets lace.

“You shouldn’t be in here.”

“No,” you agree breathlessly. “I shouldn’t.”

He slots himself against you, his other hand grips your hip and pushes you back into him. You gasp softly.

“Let it go.” You realize he’s talking about your dress. You squeeze your eyes shut. His lips skate against your neck in a way that makes you dip your head to the side in a silent surrender.

“Let it go,” he repeats.

You drop the hand on your chest and his t-shirt with it. Your dress falls to the floor in a black blanket of smoke. You gasp when his hands are on you, inching slowly from the hem of your underwear to grasp your breast in a rough, teasing palm.

A small sound escapes past your lips. His other hand, quick to respond, slots over your mouth, silencing you and your whiny moans.

It’s — rough. The way he pushes his palm into your face to quiet your whimpering, forcing your head back to rest against his shoulder. The way he pushes your underwear down your thighs to rest with his forgotten t-shirt, and your all too tight, too short dress. It’s rough, but so, so gentle.

It feels like heaven.

You pitch your back, arching into him in a desperate way. Writhing against him when he finally pushes a calloused finger in between your dripping folds.

“Jesus.” He shakes his head. You can feel the scratch of his beard against your temple. You wonder what that scruff might feel like between your thighs. “Been wantin’ it all night, huh?”

It’s a question, but not one he needs an answer to. The mess between your thighs is evidence enough.

Joel. You try to plead, but he’s relentless in his quieting attempts. The pad of his finger brushes against your clit and you’re keening against him. You can feel him smile.

“Quiet,” he whispers into your ear, then lifts his hand from your mouth, hovering, waiting until the inevitable moan to escape past your lips. But you try your hardest, bite at the skin on the inside of your lip, and he rewards you. He’s a gentleman like that. He sinks his middle finger into your cunt, rubbing tight circles on your swollen clit with his thumb. Everything about him is just so, just right.

Maybe, usually, with other guys, you’d be disappointed if they’re stingy with the foreplay. But you walked throughout the bar all night with slick dripping through soaked lace just at his words in the kitchen. Smart girl. So you push back into him and beg him—

“Joel.” You’re breathless. You plead at him with your body, with everything you have. “Please,” you whisper simply.

Something like desperation and want and a little twinge of anxiety settles in your stomach when he releases you. He walks you back to the edge of the bed. It smells like him when you lay down and the softness of the blankets kiss the edges of your face. You can hear the clink of his belt buckle and you suck in a tiny breath.

“How do you want it, baby?”

You push him back, and his eyes go wide. It’s the first reaction you’ve gotten out of him the whole night. A peak behind his brooding mask. And when you settle each leg on either side of his hips, he groans. It makes you a little more brave.

“Like this,” you whisper, placing your hands on his chest. He grabs at your wrists, and pushes them under his wide palm to his stomach so you lean forward down to him. He pushes his boxers down and you try not to look, but you make a small sound at the sight.

“Look good—” he grunts. You take his tip and notch it at your entrance. “Always look so pretty.”

Your heart pounds in your chest. Everything is different. Everything is new.

Pretty.

“Fuck,” you whisper, glancing down at just the sight of him. The size of him.

“You’re okay, angel.”

Your gaze snaps to his face. He nods. You believe him.

“I—ah—” you whimper. “I can take it.”

“I know you can,” he grunts when you sink down an inch and take the tip of him. Your hips cant at the feeling, taking more of him through groans and pressing whines. He lets you set the pace. Let's you take your time. Even when he’s panting through his gritted teeth and tight lips.

You sink down on him until there’s nothing left to take. It’s almost painful. But he’s right there, playing with the pearl of your clit, massaging your hips. He knows how much you can take and when you can take it. He seems to know alot about you while knowing very little.

“Shit,” you groan. “Oh my — god.”

You can hear him muttering something along the lines of perfect.

It feels that way—perfect. He fits inside you with a tight stretch but nothing compares to the feeling of his throbbing length resting inside you. You would die here with your wanton moans and you would wake to find nothing less.

“Joel,” you whine, clenching around him, the stretch starts to sweeten.

“That’s—fuck—yeah, good girl,” he whispers. He sounds like something sweet and dark and rough. You fist at his t-shirt. Just like the one left forgotten by the door. You don’t remember what you came in here for anymore. Not when you’re dangerously close from his thumb rubbing slow circles on your clit.

“Fuck. Yeah?” He can feel it. From the inside. “Y’gonna come, baby?”

It’s embarrassing. That you could come like this, with him waiting patiently inside you. You don’t have it in you to lie, you don’t have it in you to bounce up and down or move at all. He turned your legs to jello.

“I-I don’t—”

“C’mon,” he grunts and grips your hips to keep him flush to your body. “Know ya want it.”

It only takes one swift rock of your hips. His hands, broad and sprawled out across the plushness of your sides. Your body stalls out on top of him. He sits up to wrap his arms around you and brings you close on instinct. If your brain wasn’t so hazy and you weren’t so lightheaded your heart might swell at the thought. You bite out something sounding somewhat like his name—it’s a garbled whisper and cut of words but you think he gets the gist.

“I—Ngh—fuck,” he whispers into the crown of your hair. You can feel him throbbing inside you. You chuckle something halfway coherent and let him flip you over, settled on your stomach with your face in the sheets. His fingers skip over your backside.

“Joel,” you breathe. “I—”

“Relax,” he says behind you, spreading your folds and staring at the way your cunt clenches around nothing. “Just relax, angel.”

So you do, you sink boneless into the mattress and let him press you down into the sheets. He feels so broad. He feels so good. You tell him quite as much, in not so many words. You feel the weight of him settle behind you, his hand coming up to brace himself by your head.

“God, you feel so fuckin’ good.” He sinks in, inch by inch. It’s not so much of a stretch anymore. Carving a place for himself inside you. It feels like he belongs there. You think to yourself that he probably does. You’re squirming beneath him, wringing your fists in dark blue sheets.

You clamp your eyes shut when he bottoms out. Even more so when he finds a pace he likes and sets it. You don’t have to beg him anymore. Your legs shake beneath his hips, even more so when he hikes your leg up on the bed so he can push deeper.

Something deep rolls through you again. It shocks you. Most of the guys you’ve been with haven’t made you come once, let alone twice.

“I can’t—” you whine. “I—fuck.”

He picks up the pace.

“Y’can,” he grunts. “Know y’can, c’mon, baby.”

You nuzzle your face in cotton. His hips chase his release and you know you’re close when he nudges against your g-spot.

“Don’t stop,” you whine. “Please don’t fucking stop, Joel, please, it—ah."

When you come, he grunts through ragged breaths. White hot pools in your stomach and you whine so loudly you’re worried about the neighbors. His hand comes to brace against the back of your neck. You’re so fucking soaked he slides through you easily.

“Jesus, fuck,” he growls. He bears down on you and your hips and sinks to his elbows when he can’t keep himself up anymore. You feel the cotton of his t-shirt brush against your back. It sends a shiver up your spine. He comes, pulling out and spilling over your back. You try to hide your disappointment.

He lays beside you for a minute, you barely reach your hand up from the bedsheets to brush against his bicep. He studies your face and pants through a slack jaw. He’s scruffy and broad and — perfect.

Your gaze flick to his mouth, then his eyes. You silently realize he never kissed you.

“Gonna get me killed,” he whispers. It’s almost weirdly affectionate in a way only Joel Miller could say. Still stuck in a limbo between pleasure and reality. You smile, softly.

He climbs off you, and slinks to the bathroom. You wait with baited breath until you hear the water run. He emerges with a soft looking towel, damp with water, clinging to his fingers. You watch him and shiver when the towel touches your back.

“Okay?” he whispers when you sit up and turn to look at him.

“Yeah, okay.”

It feels like something is supposed to happen now. You’re not used to this. Everything slowly comes back as the pleasure ebbs and you blink back to reality. You open your mouth, then close it. He does the same.

You can hear Sarah’s door open and you both freeze. His brown eyes search yours through a furrowed brow. Your heart goes back into normal rhythm when you hear the bathroom door shut. Then nothing.

He snags a new shirt from his dresser and tugs it over your body.

The Texans.

“Cute,” you gesture to the shirt. It’s soft underneath your fingers, worn. A gentle kind of faded navy blue. Joel picks up your dress off the floor and folds it into your chest while scoffing.

“Shut up,” He shakes his head, but he can’t hide the smirk on his face. “Get outta here.”

It’s all oddly playful. Like you both can’t believe it and are giddy at that fact.

“Same time next week?”

Something deeper flicks across his gaze at the doorway. “Is that a promise?”

“You can’t answer a question with another question.”

You turn when you leave the doorway and settle into the hallway. He’s got his hand on the doorframe, leaning into it—towering over you and already burning something hot through you. Again.

“I just did,” he grumbles with a smug look, and then shuts the door.

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komoboko · 4 months

Text

𝐛𝐟!𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐚 𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞…

Genya shinazugawa x Gn!reader ・modern!au

I’ve seen alot of genya fans reblog my work so I got y’all 🤞

Bf!Genya who before dating you never knew how to talk to you so he just stared. You would catch him gazing at you sometimes, this habit seemed to stick with him even after you started dating. You may think he’s looking somewhere else but he’s really staring at you thinking about how lucky he is to stand beside you.

Bf!Genya despite how long you two been dating, will always ask for permission to give you a kiss. He always hesitated still scared to push himself despite your reassurance. Either way he’s comforted whenever you do confirm knowing you want to embrace him to.

Bf!Genya who’s favorite place to kiss you is either your forehead, head doesn’t know why but he feels there something so intimiate about it. Genya always feels a kiss on the forehead can represent the trust, how much trust he has in your relationship and you as a person. You can always tell how’s he feeling from a simple kiss and it means everything to him.

Bf!Genya who never had a good idea how to spend valentines day with somebody, and he never thought hr have the chance to look for something to buy somebody. When he googles "perfect gifts for valentines day" he's so torn between his options he ends up buying everything on that list instead.

Bf!Genya who likes to take you to the shooting range with him. He enjoys teaching you about his gun and how to aim it while your there, it makes him have a little pride in his talent. Although when you die accompany him, he tends to miss more shots distracted by gazing at you despite seeing you every day.

Bf!Genya who loves when you run your fingers through his hair. His shoulders automatically drop down and his muscle relax immediately. He ended up picking this up and doing the same to you, when you both laying in bed he’ll slowly begins running his fingers through your hair. Hoping you feel the same level of relaxation you gave to him.

Bf!Genya who just can’t get the hang of math, and will ask you to help him when something comes up surrounding it. Sometimes he may genuinely ask you for help, but you’ve caught on that sometimes he’ll use it as an excuse just to spend as much time with you as he can.

Bf!Genya who in general dislikes PDA, but learns to tolerate it if you do. He’ll push himself into locking pinkies or holding hands when you’re out in public, a small hug to greet you when he sees you as well. Maybe just maybe if he’s feeling risky he’ll peck your cheek as well.

Bf!Genya who really likes to hug you whether he’s in public or in private. He likes feeling you close to him, it brings him a sense of security and comfort so you’re not surprised when you feel his arms slink around your chest. Whether it’s early morning or the dead if the night Genya needs to atleast embrace you one time.

Bf!Genya who eventually opens up about his past and his broken ties with his older brother. He’s bottled up his feelings for the longest time with you being there to let him really express what he was holding in the back of his mind is meaningful to him. He trust you to tell you something very personal to him meaning he values you in his life.

Bf!Genya who never likes to wake up early in the mornings and will keep you in bed with him until he wakes up. He grumble when you try to leave, slowly wrapping his arms around you getting tighter bit by bit in hopes you give in and lay down in bed with him instead.

Bf!Genya who in reality is just a big sweetheart trying his best to show you that he loves you.

#@.komoboko writes #demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #kny x reader #kny fluff #fluff #x reader #headcanon #genya #genya shinazugawa #kny genya #swordsmith village arc #genya x reader #genya shinazugawa x reader #hcs #demon slayer genya

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r3starttt · 4 months

Note

Rockstar abby/elliein, in interview!!

"Is your girlfriend dating you because the fame and the money?"

The reader was there even before the fame!

Even asking is offensive! How can someone think that of her girlfriend?!

And reader is in their apartment watching the interview on TV concerd because she's scared ellie/Abby would think that's true

Take your time and take care 🫶

English isn't my first language, I'm sorry for any mistakes

High School Sweethearts

> Rockstar gf! Ellie in an interview

a/n: I loved this request, it’s so cute 😭 also hope y’all like this cause it’s my first time writing something like this! Also sorry if it’s short I tried my best I swear 🤞

Warnings: none, just reader getting sad because of hate comments

You’ve met Ellie in high school. She was shy, had her small group of friends and was amazingly smart at science, physics and math, subjects that you sucked at. You’ve always catch her staring at you but whenever you two talked she would act so awkward. You always noticed how her cheeks turned slightly red whenever you were together, how she would toy with her fingers and how her legs would move up and down if she was sitting, making her converse tap on the floor extremely loud. And you also noticed how much effort she added to try and hide it, but she couldn’t.

You were the one to take most first steps on everything, staring with asking for her Instagram thinking you could start to know her more but it failed because her account was empty so you couldn’t get to know anything at all.

Then you proceeded to ask for help at physics, because that was her best subject, which was actually a win because after that you became closer, friends, or so she thought.

You’d had plenty of dates with her after that one class, but it wasn’t until you mentioned the word out loud that Ellie finally understood what was going on, and god she felt so stupid.

When she finally invited you over to her house one of the first things she did was playing guitar to you, to which you asked her if she could sing too, and she did. And when that happened you just couldn’t believe you’ve got such a hot talented smart girlfriend. That’s when you told her she should take advantage of that talent and the idea of making a band wouldn’t disappear from Ellie’s mind.

And that’s how it all started, Dina and Jesse being convinced by ellie to make a band, but not really convinced, they only agreed because how the fuck would a band like this ever work and how would it became famous? it was just for the experience and the fun and to not let her friend die alone.

So they performed for the first time ever at a bar, you’ve asked Ellie to make a cover of bad idea, yeah, from girl in red, and so she did. And for everyone’s surprise (yeah, including you) it worked more than perfectly. By starters, people did pay attention to them, that’s a win right? then people recorded them and asked for any social media to support them and you, from the public’s view, couldn’t be more happier because your girlfriend’s little dream might come true.

Thankfully you were right, they went viral and got a lot of followers real quickly. And so they kept on performing, until they started to make their own music and that just lead them to more fame.

Sooner that you could ever imagine they were already having small concerts, opening shows for bigger artists, being invited to red carpets and big events, appearing on magazines, having photoshoots and of course, being invited to podcast and having interviews as well.

For starters, fans and public in general wasn’t mean to you. When Ellie started to get the girls attention she quickly made sure everyone knew about you. She’d post you on both her own and the bands social media, she’d make you appear on lives, she’d make you go on stage as well. Everything to make sure that you and everyone else knew more than well that you were her girlfriend and she loved you a lot.

There’s the fan girls that hate you a bit and always insist that you’re only there for fame and money, the ones that would do anything to convince Ellie on breaking up with you just because they think they’ll have a chance with her if that ever happens. But after those comments became repetitive you learned to ignore them.

However today you weren’t so sure about it. The band had been invited to a live podcast that was super viral because of the influencers behind it and the type of questions they asked to their guests, as well as a small section at the end where the artists invited would have to read fan comments. They’d make them answer all, and of course they were all the polemic ones. And you knew you will eventually get involved in those comments.

You decided to stay at your shared apartment, you weren’t sure if you were gonna be able to handle the comments. So now you were just laying on bed with your phone on your hands anxiously watching the podcast.

So far everything was good, they’d given some context about themselves and how the band was created. They’ve been talking about how they meet and how it was all the process of becoming famous, and how was fame for them.

That was until they were told about the comments. Honestly at this point you’re way to focused on how fun everything was and how hot Ellie looks to feel anxious, but it does freak you out to see what type of questions they might get, no only Ellie but the whole band, you’re very aware of how annoying and disrespectful people can be.

Most comments are about how hot the three of them are, about how hot Ellie’s tattoo is, the typical fan girl comments that make the whole band laugh and make fun of it. Then there’s also hate comments and that unfortunately where you appear the most. One of the influencers grabs their phone and reads out loud “I bet Ellie’s girlfriend is only there for the fame and the money, she must get a lot from being so close to Dina and Jesse as well. Fucking good luck she has” then he proceeds to say excitedly how many likes the comment has, you hated them and hated this because even though you weren’t there you felt humiliated.

And as much as you try to ignore the whole situation you can’t help but feel like shit, you freaked out because if that comment had so many support that meant there’s a lot of people that thinks that and what assures you neither Ellie, Dina or Jesse have ever thought about it?

The three of them stay in silence for a couple of seconds, everyone just staring at Ellie awkwardly and waiting for her response, including you. And just when anxiety is eating you alive you hear her voice.

“Whoever wrote that comment is jealous as fuck” Ellie says clearly annoyed, her brows furrowed and a very sarcastic smirk on her face “the three of us meet her in high school as well. I was amazed by her when I first saw her but just couldn’t manage to talk to her, I was shy as fuck back then” both Dina and Jesse laughed, nodding their heads as making fun of her because only they know the amount of times Ellie would go with them to speak excitedly about how you had noticed her.

She speaks one more time and you can’t help but feel excited, now you understand the fans “however if she was here for it I don’t mind it at all because she’s hot, y’all wished to be m’ girl, stop being so annoying guys” and you can hear the interviewers laughing at the back, praising her for being so honest and calling fans out since most artists don’t.

And as you’re in bed, watching the live and feeling like a teenager in love. Ellie is dying to grab her phone and make you know how much she adores you and how much she can’t wait to get home with you, but she can’t of course cause she’s live and with her phone way to far from her.

#lesbian #ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie x y/n #ellie fluff #ellie x you #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie smut #tlou2

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juyeonszn · 8 months

Text

DIVE TO YOU

PAIRING lee sangyeon x f!reader

WORD COUNT 2.61k

GENRES fluff ﹒suggestive

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DNI u already know, roommates to ;) type beat, ummm they’re naked, they are in a bathtub, sangyeon is… wow sangyeon just deserves a warning on his own, he is A Lot, there’s a mention of a voyeuristic moment but it’s nothing crazy, he massages reader, they make out, i tease u all bc i’m evil like that

SUMMARY you’ve never really thought of sangyeon in an explicit way, but now that you’re stuck in this position, it’s going to be difficult for your thinking to go back to normal.

MORE SURPRISE ALLY (@winterchimez) MY BELOVED THIS ONE IS FOR U <<<3 i hope i didn’t kill u </3 this is another request from my 100 followers event! prompts used are: 9, 16, 17 🤞

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs

You hated your job more than anything in the world. It was mind-numbing. All you did was stare at a computer all day and type type type, responding to emails or drafting up documents for your boss. It was exhausting. To be honest, you were sick of it.

But you needed it, unless you wanted to get kicked out of your apartment for not making your share of the rent. Sure, having a job you disliked wasn’t ideal, but you were surviving and wasn’t that all that mattered?

Besides, you’d probably die if you were forced to move out of your apartment. Your roommate was the only reason you moved in to the damn place despite rent being so fucking expensive.

You remember the day you stumbled upon his ad like it was yesterday, though it had already been exactly one year. You’d just finished your first month at your job and you were growing tired of dealing with your parents. Yeah it was nice that you didn’t have to worry about half of your current expenses while living under their roof, but you knew you needed to ship up and move out eventually. You figured this was the perfect time to do so.

You scoured the internet for apartments, but soon realized that living on your own would be way too much, considering all of the other things you also had to worry about now. As you started filtering through listings that requested a second habitant, you stumbled upon your roommate’s. The rent itself was a little bit over your budget, but the way he worded his ad had you hooked.

Just an hour later you were emailing him and setting up a meeting to discuss important details. You met up at a cute little coffee shop a few days later when you both found some free time. Being the punctual person you were, you arrived earlier than planned, ordering your go to and picking a two seater in the corner by one of the floor-to-ceiling windows.

You had always been the type to psych yourself up before doing anything major. You needed at least half an hour of prep time if you were making any important decisions, because you could not handle things going wrong. Everything in your life had to be carefully and methodically done. You liked to say you were thorough, but everyone else called you a perfectionist. It is what it is.

And because you didn’t know this guy, you had no idea what he looked like and you weren’t aware that he had the same mindset. You glance up from your drink to see the most handsome man you’ve ever laid your eyes on walk into the cafe, ordering something you can’t make out. He looks like something straight from a drama, his hair styled neatly and his outfit put together. Even under his thick coat, you could see how well sculpted he was.

You don’t realize that you’re staring until he’s suddenly walking towards your direction, his coffee in his hands. He furrows his brows and clears his throat. “Hi, I don’t mean to bother you, but do you happen to be Y/N?”

Oh my god. No way. There was no way this hunk of a man was your potential roommate. It was impossible.

When your lips part in shock and you don’t respond for a couple seconds, he blinks at you. Okay, maybe it wasn’t that impossible. You nearly facepalm for already making such a fool of yourself before you’ve even held a proper conversation. You stumble over your words as you gesture to the chair across from you. “Y-Yes! Yes, that’s me. Please, take a seat!”

He smiles politely, setting down his drink and shedding his coat. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m Sangyeon.”

You wipe your hands on your jeans before reaching to shake his hand nervously. If you could hardly handle this simple meeting, how could you handle living with the guy? He might send you into spontaneous combustion by just looking at you.

Sangyeon had the patience of a saint, and you would be eternally grateful for it. After getting to know each other better and growing more comfortable around him, the two of you discussed the roommate situation. You truly lucked out in finding him, seeing as you shared a lot of similar ideals. He even offered to lower your part of the rent as much as he could, explaining that you were by far his favorite candidate for the second room.

Later that same day, you went over and got an apartment tour prior to signing a lease agreement. And then the rest was history.

You sigh as the clock finally hits 6, signaling the end of your very long work day. One thing you disliked about getting off at the time you did was the fact that it was always snowing. It made it hard to navigate your way home, since most people packed around the bus stops like sardines. You hug your coat to yourself to block out the harsh winds, your scarf wrapped up to your nose.

You were tired and cold and all you wanted was to be inside the blanket that was your apartment, soaking in a hot bath with a glass of wine beside you. Sangyeon was supposedly working late today, which meant you’d have some much needed alone time.

The entire bus ride, you find yourself drifting off and then startling awake when you drove over a bump. You don’t remember the last time you were this drained after a work week. It could’ve been because you stayed over time a couple days, but you didn’t think it would affect you that badly.

When you finally arrive at the stop near your apartment, you’re almost in a zombie-like state, trudging through some of the snow that has started to stick. The only thing keeping your eyes open was the obnoxious chattering of your teeth.

It feels like a millennia by the time you’ve reached your front door, hands shaking as you attempt to unlock it. You’re partly surprised you didn’t drop your keys. The moment you step into your home, it’s like a huge weight has been lifted from your shoulders.

From the lingering scent of your peppermint and vanilla candle to the warmth of the building’s heating, you felt like you’d just been cuddled by a teddy bear. You shrug off your coat and hang it on the set of hooks beside the front door, leaving your shoes on the rack just beneath. Your sock clad feet drag you towards the kitchen, where an unopened bottle of wine awaits you.

You’re tempted to just drink straight from the bottle, but you didn’t want to get shitfaced, you just wanted to feel relaxed. Nevertheless, you pour yourself a… hefty… glass and waddle to the bathroom. A mental note was made to thank your coworker for the bath salt and bubble set she got you as a gift, seeing as it was finally being put to good use.

It doesn’t take long for you to peel off your layers of clothing after you’ve turned on the faucet and adjusted the temperature to your preference. You watch with heavy eyelids as the bubbles begin to form along the surface of the water, rising up and filling the tub. You dip your toes in while simultaneously taking a sip of your wine, damn near moaning at how much better you felt.

You press play on one of your playlists and light a candle before finally sinking into the water, succumbing to its serenity. Your eyes start to flutter shut and you don’t even try to fight the sleep that calls your name.

You’re not sure if hours or minutes have passed since you fell asleep, but the creaking of the bathroom door opening stirs you from your slumber. Most people probably would’ve had a bigger reaction, considering someone just walked into the bathroom without checking if it was occupied first. And also because you had assumed you were home alone.

This was one of the various times you wished the earth would just swallow you whole.

Lee Sangyeon stands in the doorway, shoulder resting against the threshold with his arms crossed. His dress shirt from work is unbuttoned all the way to the third from the top, his muscular frame stretching the fabric deliciously. You wondered how he was comfortable, since he wore such tight shirts. Occasionally you truly understood why the term ‘Take A Picture, It’ll Last Longer’ existed.

You were extremely thankful that you added bubbles to your bath, the foam covering up your body where the sun usually doesn’t shine. Sangyeon has an amused glint in his eye and even with the fogginess of your partially awake brain coupled with the few sips of wine you’ve had, you know it’s off brand for him.

“S-Sangyeon, what are you doing in here?” You trip over your words, wrapping your arms around yourself tightly.

“Well, I just got home and I was planning on doing the same thing as you,” he rolls his neck as if to display his own tension from a long day. “But it looks like you’ve beat me to it.”

You blink at him. Why was he still standing there? Staring at you like… that?

“Um… Why haven’t you left?” You swallow, but your mouth is dry.

“Is there some space in that bathtub?”

He asks the question so smoothly, the words rolling off of his tongue like he’s asked to join you in the bath on numerous occasions. You gape at him, your head spinning in circles. Perhaps you were still half asleep and your mind was playing tricks on you. That made the most sense. Perfect, sweet roommate Sangyeon would never ask you a question like that.

“I’m sorry?” Part of you feels stupid, gawking at the male and stumbling over your speech. It’s like you’ve completely malfunctioned, every logical point of your body shutting down for unscheduled maintenance. You had to recalibrate your systems fast.

Sangyeon repeats himself, not skipping a beat as he does so. You do a 180, glancing around the room as if someone else was present. You jab a finger into the only exposed part of your chest and then at the water with scrunched eyebrows.

“Yeah, is there some room in there for me to fit? You know, Y/N,” he shrugs, going for the next button on his shirt. “I have seen you naked before.”

You nearly drown yourself on the spot. Lee Sangyeon has seen you naked? This was news to you. Last you checked, neither of you had ever done anything intimate enough for that. He laughs that attractive laugh of his, his eyes forming crescent moons. You’re enticed to drown yourself a second time.

“Y-You have?” This was probably single-handedly the most embarrassing moment of your life.

“To be fair, it was an accident. I walked past your room while you were changing once but you didn’t have the door closed all the way, and well, I am a man so, I couldn’t help but take a peek.” He scratches the back of his neck, letting out a small chuckle. Okay so God definitely had favorites and you weren’t one of them. Nice to know.

He unbuttons another button, stepping closer to you, closing the distance between you. He crouches next to the tub, finally at eye level with you. Oh, what you would give for a moment of this man’s time. Here he was, handing you just that on a silver platter and you were royally fumbling the bag.

“So is that a yes?”

You really don’t trust your own voice, so you merely nod, biting back the urge to groan when he grins at you, standing upright. It’s like you’re stuck in a trance, watching him clear the rest of the buttons of his shirt like light work. The sight of his abdomen on full display has you releasing a tiny squeak. Then comes the unbuckling of his belt and that alone is a mental image you don’t think you could ever forget. You dip your chin into your shoulder, looking away when he strips the rest of his clothes.

You feel him before you hear him, his leg brushing against the back of your arm as he slips behind you into the tub. He exhales deeply, exactly like you did when you got in. You’re as stiff as a board, not sure what you should do with your roommate naked and sitting behind you, sharing bath water like it was a regular Friday night. You keep your focus on the faucet, too afraid to make any sudden movements.

“Relax, N/N,” he pins his chest to your back, hands coming up to massage your shoulders. “You’re so tense.”

The way he works his thumbs into your skin has shivers running down your spine, your entire being feeling like it’s lit up. You suppress a whimper when he kneads a knot just below your neck, squeezing your eyes shut and biting your lip. Before today, you’ve never really thought of Sangyeon in an explicit way. Sure you thought he was extremely handsome, but that had always been just a surface level notion. You’d never fantasized about a crazy, fan-fiction type moment like this. But now that you’re in it, you don’t think your thinking could ever go back to normal. You could never see him as just your handsome roommate.

You have half the mind to scoot into his lap, but it seems like he’s beat you to it, sliding his hands down to your waist and pulling you towards him. Your eyes widen when you feel him, hard and pressed to your lower back. At that, you finally make a noise; something between a strangled moan and a whine.

Sangyeon brings his lips to your ear, grazing them along the shell of it. “Can you feel how much I want you?”

“Y-Yes,” you gasp. “I can feel you.”

This is insanity. Were you still waking up, conjuring up this entire scenario with your half conscious mind? Maybe some sick and deluded higher power wanted you to realize the possibility of having feelings for Sangyeon, and this was their way of doing it.

But then one of his hands trails to your thigh and he pinches you lightly. That’s how you know this is real, this is actually happening. You crane your neck slightly to glance at him. His eyes are darker than usual, a deep brown swimming with lust that almost looks black. It’s similar to how a predator would stare down its prey and it’s a look you could get used to.

Sangyeon’s gaze flickers down to your lips and you just about lose your last bit of clarity, leaning forward to connect your mouths. It’s kind of messy, kind of rough, but the way your stomach twists into knots and goosebumps litter your arms makes you think that the higher being you were cursing minutes ago was actually doing you a huge favor. You’d have to thank them later.

One of Sangyeon’s hands comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb caressing your cheekbone as he does so. Without parting, you turn around in his lap, straddling him as best you can in your limited space. If you thought you felt him before, you definitely feel him now, his cock pulsing against your aching core. Your need was carnal, primal even. He hisses when you grind down on him, gripping your hips to halt you.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, sweetheart.”

#the boyz #the boyz x reader #the boyz suggestive #tbz #tbz x reader #tbz suggestive #the boyz sangyeon #tbz sangyeon #lee sangyeon x reader #lee sangyeon suggestive #sangyeon x reader #sangyeon suggestive #juyeonszn #juyeonszn.100🪩

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trips2saturn · 2 months

Text

TOWL SPOILERS BELOW!!!!!!

enough time has passed and i’m impatient so here it is. episode two debriefing! ❤️‍🔥

danai and andy’s chemistry is unparalleled and has never been executed so well before by any other actors. their words, emotions, and energy into bringing these characters to life in such a tender way is something absolutely so enigmatic and goshshfgshdhsn i just love them. i love their dynamic and their power to create such an immaculate foundation that will always be such a memorable piece for all of us as fans of this franchise. 🫶🏼

michonne and nat deserved more time. point blank period. i sobbed violently and had to pause the episode for ten minutes. i loved his dynamic with michonne and how much impact his character had in under 40 minutes of screen time. missing him forever and ever. and not to be an asshole but their relationship is what the dude-bros wanted rick and okafor’s association to be ! tell me i’m wrong.

dana from a group of 40 people with her sister el. yaaaas go girl! she’s a b your honor please believe her!!! she’s totally not a badass powerhouse wife and mother of two who’s experienced more in her life than the crm ever have!!!

it’s FUCK the crm forever actually. CHLORINE GAS? killing the pregnant lady and her boyfriend???? im distraught. the most disgusting group of people to ever exist apart from the saviors. hoping to see their entire base burn to the ground by the end of this series !!!! <3

RICHONNE REUNITING AFTER CHOOSING TO GIVE UP HOPE TO FIND EACH OTHER 😭😭😭 the universe loves them soooo much they’re like this 🤞 when it comes to fate. i am still actively emotional over all of their scenes. they’re sooo in love with each other it hurts. i’m still on cloud nine just from seeing them kiss (and moan omg!) so excuse me. ❤️‍🩹

michonne cradling rick’s face and rick nuzzling into her hands? THAT IS HER BABY POOKIE SUGAR PLUM CRISP. keep them together! they cannot be separated!

jadis can die with all due disrespect. she ruined everything. it’s been her fault since the start. she separated them. she’s the reason that rj doesn’t know his father and only knows of his legendary stories. fuck her. d*e!

rick asking about jude multiple times :((( his baby. bring him home to his kids PLEASE. must’ve been such a shocker to hear him ask about his daughter and not daryl or negan oh no! abused, kidnapped father finds the love of his life and wants to make sure that their daughter is still okay after being away from her for a decade! SHOCKER! WOW. this is shocking news! 🙀

the scenes of michonne and nat having to rebuild their health after the chlorine gas bomb was so heartbreaking but powerful. michonne working out and continuing to push herself by being reminded of her strength, grief, and love. she is so strong and i’m so proud of her. i hate the crm.

“shoto? shoto?” PUNCHING ME IN THE GUT WOULD HURT LESS. meanwhile judith is also trying to reach out but their signal is too far gone for them to do so. 😭 pleaseeee i just need one future scene of them reuniting. michonne loves them so much she is the best mother ever. ❤️‍🩹

okay!!!!! that’s all that i have for now. still collecting my thoughts after this episode but i love my tv parents more than life. so happy to have them back and i can’t wait for the next four episodes!!!!!!!

#trips talks #towl spoilers #the ones who live #the walking dead #rick grimes #richonne #michonne grimes

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gisele0127 · 11 months

Note

Hi ! Can I request a nagi x reader oneshot in which they’re playing horror games plssss

Notes: Hi yes of course! It’s a little rushed at the end but i hope it’s okay! not proof read sorry :(

Scared to death • nagi x reader

you and nagi are currently playing video games on roblox at his house. reo was there earlier but left because he had to go study for history or something. you weren’t really paying attention because then again you were playing on your phone. nagi loves playing video games together, you even convinced him to play royale high once. you and reo were never really into video games until you both met nagi. but now you and nagi have arcade dates, and even dates on random roblox servers while the two of you facetime. on this particular night you two happen to be playing something scary, since right before you guys were watching a scary movie. so why not continue the horror theme tonight?

ミ★ 1:54am - you both have school in the morning yet here you two are still going at it. nagi is so into the game that when a jumpscare comes on your usually calm and collected boyfriend screams out bloody murder. it snaps you back to reality and here you are about to piss your pants from laughing so hard. nagi just rolls his eyes and pouts saying “this is why you’re supposed to go first not me”. you laugh even more at how nagi is just a big baby. you can’t wait to tell reo later and both tease him about it in the morning. you both get back into the game and you are in front, per nagis request.

ミ★ 3:08am - you and nagi are still playing video games, but you’re terrified. so you finally tell him that you’ve had enough and you’re starting to feel a little tired. “sei im a little tired I think I might go home” nagi looks at you confused and hurt by your confession. “not at this time you’re not. you’re asking to get kidnapped.” you finally look at the time and that’s when you shriek. “It’s 3 in the morning?!” “yup” “and you knew?!” “yup” “we have school in a couple of hours” “yup”. you wanted to slap your boyfriend so hard until you heard a creek come from down the hall of nagis apartment. “sei I thought you lived alone” “I thought so too” gosh sometimes your boyfriend was too annoying. “maybe you should make sure just in case” “hmm no sounds like a hassle” you hear another noise come from the hallway, and that’s it you’re freaked tf out. You run to nagi who’s been laying on his bed and jump on him. he lets out a loud “oof” in response. “hey what was that for!?” “if I’m about to get murdered I want to at least die in your arms so we can stay together forever 😍🤞”. nagi looks at you annoyed, “I’m sure no one is here maybe that game is making you go mental. you know it’s clinically proven that cuddles can cure the insane”. now it’s your turn to look annoyed but that quickly goes away when you see a figure at the entrance of his doorway. you quickly put your head down under the covers and nagi looks at you confused until he sees what you just saw. “WHAT THE FUCK TAKE HER NOT ME” nagi pushes you closer to the intruder until the lights switch on.

Reo.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” you both say in union. “what am I doing here? what are you doing here y/n? do your parents know you’re out here making babies past curfew?” you could pass out from how scared you were until you realize two things. nagi pushed you towards the murderer and your parents are definitely pissed. eh you’ll worry about the second part in the morning. you get off of nagi pissed that your boyfriend could do such a thing. and that’s when nagi asks “what are you doing here at 3 in the morning?” “oh. I wanted to cosplay middle class. I had a nightmare and wanted to experience it first hand”. that’s reo for you.

ミ★ 4:12 am - reos sleeping on the floor while you and nagi are on his bed. you’re still mad from earlier until nagi moves a piece of your hair from your face. “you’re cute when you’re scared.” “yea and you’re cuter when you’re not sacrificing your girlfriend.” nagi rolls his eyes and pulls you closer.

“I’ll make it up to you, love”

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star-girl69 · 10 months

Text

Savior Complex

Lottie Matthews x Natalie Scatorccio x Fem!Reader

—-

sypnosis: You pick the Queen card. But all of you made a promise when you stepped into that circle- you can’t back out, not now, even when you know this is the last time you’ll ever be alive to breathe and see and love. You’re young and in love, Natalie and Lottie would do anything to make sure you’re not the one under the knife. But in the end, who really saves you?

a/n: i wrote this in like 3 hours let’s hope it’s not shit 🤞🤞 i hope you all enjoy!!

warnings: mentions of knives, death, cannibalism, swearing, DEATH, blood, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

When you all stepped into the circle, there was an unspoken rule. You all wanted blood, meat, and you promise to pick in a card for the chance that it wouldn’t be you, and you would get to eat tonight and survive a little longer.

The months in the wilderness leading up to this have only been hungry and wild. You’ve been coming to this for months. The rot of the wilderness had spread through the cabin like a dark mold, sticking itself inside all of you, festering and growing into an entity of its own. A second brain. Something that was clouding the world, until it all narrowed down to the desperation to survive, the primal need, the true hunger you felt in your bones.

You felt the hunger in your hollowing cheekbones, in your rumbling stomach, in your weak arms and legs.

The circle you’re gathered in is lopsided, but the center is perfect. A tall stool, a skull, offerings and a candle Shauna lights with a flick from the matches.

The fire burns brightly to the side, and when you look over at it, you find yourself looking at Natalie.

She grimaces, almost like she’s trying to smile, comfort you even as death waits just in front of you.

Van takes a card from the top of the pile, safely in her hands.

The Queen of Hearts.

Slowly, she holds it up, letting everyone see it clearly.

She puts it back in the pile and shuffles.

The implication is silent but clear.

Whoever draws that card is the one who dies.

You look around the circle, knowing it’s a few empty. But one of them is already eaten. The other died trying to save you. And the final is upstairs.

The floors creak, and Lottie had been getting better, still rolling around in pain, still bloody, bruised and broken.

But she could walk. And she had her mind.

And she knew that the silence at this time of day wasn’t supposed to be there.

But everyone ignores the footsteps they hear, the thumps of someone descending down the ladder.

Van holds out the cards, and Misty steps forward.

She takes one, and you grab Natalie’s hand.

And, finally, after she looks over the card, she lets out a sigh.

She spins around, smiling slightly, showing a card that isn’t the Queen of Hearts.

“What are you doing?” Lottie gasps, appearing in the doorway of the pantry. “I told you to eat me,” she breathes. “Me. If I died.”

Misty stares at her.

“We need food,” she says simply. “And it can’t be you.”

“It can,” she says, almost like a plead, and you think back to when she was on the floor, taking Shauna’s hits, and you knew you couldn’t do anything because she wanted it. She believed it had to happen, and she offered herself up as a martyr.

She shouldn’t have to be your savior twice.

When no one says anything, Misty taking the stack of cards from Van, holding them out to Akilah.

“No.”

Misty and Akilah stop moving, their arms outstretched.

“No, you can’t. Eat me. Eat me.”

You sniffle and shuffle on your feet, your nose running from the cold, your eyes filling up with tears because you very well know someone will die tonight.

But you can’t bring yourself to speak, to stop Lottie, because a part of you that just wants you all to live wants her to stop it.

She steps forward and places her hands over Misty’s, over the cards, one of her eyes still swollen shut, wounds all over her face staring to scab over.

“Stop,” she whispers, and she’s almost pleading.

“Lottie.”

It’s Natalie who speaks, and you just stand at the side of the circle, her hand in yours.

Lottie looks over to the two of you, her eye that’s not swollen open wide, her mouth parted in disbelief.

“Get- get out of the circle,” she whispers. “Both of you. Get out. All of you- all of you stop! Get out!”

No one moves as she keeps shouting, stepping forward through the middle, pushing Misty and Akilah aside, grabbing the knife in the middle.

“Eat me!” she shouts, and you’re crying now, the fire too hot, your hand sweating in Nat’s. “Eat me, eat me!”

And your heart squeezes at the thought of Lottie really offering herself up, but you know the girls won’t let her. They truly believe in her. They won’t eat her. They won’t let her give them the opportunity.

Mari and Van grab her while Natalie squeezes your hand, looking away as they knock the knife from her hands and throw her into the nearest chair, and she’s still injured and tired even if she wants to save you all and make this fucking barbaric circle stop, she’s a human, and she succumbs to her limits.

“Stop,” she mutters, breathing heavily from the chair, Mari standing near, ready to tackle again.

Misty takes a deep breath, staring at Akilah, who reaches out again.

“Stop,” Lottie says. But no one listens. Not to her. They are listening to the wilderness inside of them and the hunger.

She grabs a card slowly, stares at it for a second, before she turns it around and places it over her heart.

Van grabs the card quickly, hungrily, and shows around her card like she did with the Queen. But it’s not the Queen of Hearts, and you hear Taissa let out a sigh of relief.

Misty moves to Shauna. She grabs it and holds out a card.

Travis takes a card. Taissa does. Melissa does.

All while Lottie mutters for you to stop, pleads, just that one word over again, and she’s so tired and weak she’s barely even able to get out that, half-collapsed in a chair.

Misty moves to Javi next to you.

He grabs the King of Spades. He smiles, laughing a bit, holding up the card before letting it fall to the ground, running to his brothers arms.

He whispers that they’re both safe.

“Stop,” Lottie says, louder this time, her chair shuffling against the ground, but Lottie makes sure she keeps sitting by grabbing her arm. “Please. Please, stop, stop…”

But no one is listening. And you can’t even hear anything as you let your hand fall from Natalie’s staring at the blue and white checkered backs of the cards.

Maybe you take a deep breath. Maybe you don’t.

But you know that you think about the hunger, and think about how this feeling has taken over your life.

You grab the card slowly.

When you see it, smudged with dirt, the picture of a Queen surrounded by hearts, you throw the card onto the floor.

You think you say the word no.

And even though no one saw the card besides you, they all know from your reaction. You turn around, and from Natalie’s genuine concern, you can tell she’s trying not to believe it, act like she doesn’t know what you’re doing, like there must be some other reason for your reaction.

She wraps her arms around you. You hook your head over her shoulder and breathe heavily, staring at the wooden door.

You hear the floorboards shift. Someone crouching down. When they rise again, they gasp, holding the card out, and everyone else gasps. In horror. In the realization that they survived. In the realization of what they’re going to do.

Lottie is silent, now.

Natalie wraps her arms around you tighter.

“We- we weren’t serious about this, right? We can’t kill her. We can’t kill her.”

She takes a step back, dragging you with her.

“She’ll be dead. Dead. She won’t ever fucking come back, and because of us? We can’t kill her. I-I can’t let you kill her. This is insane.”

“Maybe,” Misty whispers. “But we need her.”

You have survived these so many months on the hope that one day it would be over. You would be rescued, wrapped in wool blankets, pumped full of saline and fluids, and you would never have to think about this place again. You would never feel hunger again.

You’ll never go home again.

“We need her,” Misty repeats, and you feel Natalie shake her head.

You’ll never go home again.

You’ll never feel the sun again. You’ll never leave the wilderness, you’ll always be here, a pile of bones buried under the soil that everyone would soon forget about.

You’ll never go home again.

“Grab her,” Misty whispers.

No one moves for a second. Until, finally, Van and Mari step forward.

“Get away,” Natalie says, her voice wavering. “Get the fuck away.”

Someone’s hand wraps around your shoulder, and you’re too scared to even thrash, just looking around the room, wondering if your wide eyes and the tears streaming down your face will remind them all that you’re alive and you’re human.

Natalie tugs you closer, shouting, but you can’t even hear her over the fear rushing in your ears like a roaring wildfire, rushing all over your skin like falling blood, and you can’t do anything about it. You can’t fall to the floor, you can’t shake it off of you, Nat’s arms are too tight around you and you’re too scared to move.

When they push her back, your shoulders aching from where she had dug her fingernails through your clothes, into your skin, trying desperately to keep you close and away from the jaws of death, from the stench of its mouth floating around the room.

You sway a little when they stand you up, feeling sick, like they’ve shoved your head right into it’s open, drooling mouth, teeth still dirty with the last meal.

Shauna grabs the knife from the bone skull.

“Turn around,” she says, not unkindly, but removed.

Stop, you think. Stop. Stop.

When you don’t turn, just staring at her through blurry vision, Natalie screaming in the background, she takes a shaky breath, her own tears in her eyes, panting slightly, and turns you around herself.

Stop. Stop.

You look over at Lottie. She stares at you with her good eye. You can’t even tell if she’s crying, but you’re so scared you can’t even see clearly.

“Lottie!” someone yells. “Lottie- Lottie, stop it!”

Stop, you think again. Stop. Stop. Stop.

Shauna puts the necklace around the neck she will soon cut into.

Stop. Stop.

You can hear her shaky breath through the screams, through your own thick sobs, and you wonder if you blood will mix with your tears as they run down your body.

Stop. Stop.

The necklace is a thick weight against your neck, making you feel a little sick, because even if you had to die- this isn’t how you wanted to die.

Stop. Stop. Stop.

Shauna lifts the blade to your neck.

Stop.

Her hand shakes. And she doesn’t do anything. You can’t see anything through your tears, besides for the rough outline of Van and Mari holding Natalie against the wall while she thrashes and cries.

You let out a sharp sob.

“Stop,” you gasp, barely loud enough to hear, the first word you’ve said all day. “Stop. Stop.”

Shauna’s hand becomes steadier after a moment.

And just as the screaming comes to a head in your mind, that word over and over again, how much you want it, need it.

“Stop!” someone yells, throwing themselves on top of Shauna, and in the chaos of a few girls tackling Lottie and dragging her off of Shauna, you just stand there. “Run! Run, run, run!” she screeches, and fists collide with skin and bone, and in the commotion and the fear, you open the door and run outside.

—-

The cold is just as horrible as the hunger, and especially in just your sweater, your thin jacket, it sinks into your very soul and creates something inside of you.

But you never had to kill anyone to keep the fire going.

Your feet crunch under the snow, and you hear the shouting about your disappearance as you run from the clearing around the cabin and into the densest part of the woods, abandoning any path, your feet cracking against sticks, but all you can do is run and run as fast as you can. For your life, for the chance to breathe and see the world, to get out of the place, to love the girls you have loved for so long.

You can hear them shouting behind you, running, the girls who tried to kill you, but you had the head start. There’s a sound, like an animal, and it takes you a moment to remember that it’s winter, and there’s no animals left in the forest.

It’s them, howling, hunting and calling for you. Animalistic. Primal.

Finally, when you’ve ran far away enough from the cabin that you can barely recognize the woods, you duck behind a large tree and place your hand over your mouth, hearing them all run past you. Hiding your cries.

When you can’t hear them anymore, you pick a direction, the one they aren’t going, and run as fast as you can until your legs ache.

“Y/N!” someone shoots, but their voice is softer, it’s not one of the girls. You risk a glance over your shoulder, and it’s Javi. The forest is silent, and you’re so scared- “Natalie and Lottie sent me,” he pants. You stop, still ready to run, looking around anxiously, running on adrenaline.“I know somewhere we can go. Somewhere the others don’t know about. I can take you there.”

You look at him up and down, but he’s just a 14 year-old boy who saw his father’s bloody dead body fall from a tree. He survived a plane crash. He survived those summer months at the cabin. And then, he survived the winter. Somewhere. He had to have found something.

“You can trust me,” he says, and something in you knows he’s not lying.

“I- I do,” you pant. “I just…”

“Come with me.”

And he looks at you with such honesty in his eyes that when he gestures and starts running, you follow after him.

He leads you in the direction of the cabin, you think, maybe a little west, your legs aching and you’re lagging behind him, but he just keeps shouting encouragement, and you want to go home, so you follow him. You keep running.

You don’t recognize this part of the forest. And by the way he falters a bit, you can tell he doesn’t either.

“Are we lost?!” you shout, a little frantic, desperate to live.

“I- I don’t know,” he mutters, sharing a nervous look with you. Night will fall soon. You’ll be stuck out here, stumbling around in the dark. And in the cold- you’ll turn into two more corpses for the Yellowjackets to eat.

“Okay. Okay,” you mutter. “We… we can retrace our steps. Until you find something you recognize.”

He nods, walking forward, looking for anything, any clue as to where you are.

“It’ll be fine,” you say, partly to him, partly to yourself.

He takes a few steps forward, before he’s not there anymore. Something cracks, and he screams, and you scream his name, taking a few rushed steps forward.

You come to the edge of the pit, and fall to your knees sobbing.

—-

The howling has been growing closer for minutes now, and you couldn’t be bothered to care. You had long since gently traversed the shallow pit, carefully removing his arms and legs from the spikes, then lifting him up, his stomach pouring blood from his open wounds.

He was dead as soon as he hit the bottom.

But, still, he is just like you, an unwilling sacrifice to save the rest. He survived. He thought he had. He had chosen his card and come out unscathed.

You hold his head in your lap, crying over his glazed over eyes, his skin already turning blue from the cold.

His blood is all over you and the snow.

And just as the howling and the hunt comes as close as it can get, it all stops. They mutter among themselves.

“The dead guy must have set it up,” you say, and no one acknowledges you.

You know what they see. They see a dead body. They see something for them to eat.

—-

They strung Javi up like an animal, carrying him back towards the cabin. No one said anything to you. No one even tried to. How could they? They tried to kill you, and they would have to live with that.

When you come inside, it’s warm, and knowing that you almost felt that for the last time, knowing that Javi did, it makes you cry as soon as you stepped inside.

Travis looked at you, slightly confused that you were alive, but he hadn’t seen his brother yet.

“Lottie and Nat are upstairs,” he says, frowning at the blood covering you and the fact that you’re not hurt.

He lost his brother today, and he doesn’t even know it yet.

You don’t remember clambering up the ladder, and with how much your legs hurt from running, your arms from dragging Javi out of the pit, the cold in your bones from sitting vigil over his dead body, you don’t know how you did it.

Neither of them turn when you finally crawl upstairs, assuming you’re Misty or Shauna, someone they don’t want to see right now. Nat places some cloth against one of Lottie’s wounds, one that must have reopened during the chaos.

You shift awkwardly for a moment, until Lottie opens her eyes, and she can see you. She smiles.

“Y/N,” she gasps, and Natalie whips around, and you can see it in her face that she was half-expecting you to be a hallucination. But you’re not. You’re there. Blood and tears falling down your body and mixing.

“What the hell happened?” Nat asks, standing up and helping you steady yourself before you fall, helping you sit down next to Lottie, leaning against the wall, who sits up, looking at you anxiously.

“Are you hurt? she asks, cupping your face, fixing your unruly clothes, but she quickly realizes you’re not. Natalie turns back around with more cloth. “Who was hurt, Y/N? Who’s blood is this?”

You shake your head, and Natalie reaches towards your face, blotting away a spot of dried blood on your jawbone with her spit.

“It’s alright,” Lottie says. “You can tell us.”

More tears fall.

“Javi,” you whisper. “He came to save me. He came to save me, and he didn’t know, I didn’t, that there was a pit there. It was covered in snow, in snow, and there were spikes at the bottom-” you cut off with a harsh sob attacking you, coming from somewhere deep inside of you, pure disgust from what happened today.

Your leg twitches, sore from running for so long, walking back to the cabin, and Nat runs her hand from your thigh to your calf.

“You can just sleep,” she whispers, voice raspy from screaming, and Lottie slips off the jacket that’s covered in blood, swapping it for a scratchy wool blanket. It doesn’t help you shake the cold in your bones. “You can just sleep,” she repeats, and Lottie nods, and you know they just want you to do what’s best.

None of you can bring Javi back to life.

None of you can do anything about anything that happened today.

They can’t take away the trauma of almost dying, of watching Javi fall, of sitting with his dead body in the cold. They can’t take away the fact that you were hunted down like nothing more than an animal.

By now, Travis must know his brother is dead.

Does he feel as bad as you? Worse?

Natalie stands up and shuts the trapdoor, leaving the three of you alone in the attic. The sun is setting, and the three of you are tired and alone.

Lottie had tried to save all of you today. Demanding they ate her instead. Natalie had went down kicking for you.

But in the end, Javi, the boy who had survived so much, who had celebrated his brother, who thought he could rest easy for a few more nights-

It was Javi who was your unwilling savior.

—-

everything taglist:

@emilynissangtr

#lottienat x reader #natalie x lottie x reader #lottie matthews x reader #natalie scatorccio x reader #yellowjackets x reader

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e-dubbc11 · 6 months

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Ominous October Sky

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: couple of swear words, this one is a little dark, violent, description of wounds, but again…I gotta have a little fluff

Word Count: 2.6k-ish

Summary: No one threatens Billy or the woman he loves and they’re about to find out what happens when he’s pushed too far.

A/N: I had such a good time writing unhinged Billy in Under the Pale Moonlight, I decided to do it again. I hope it’s as good as I think it is, fingers crossed 🤞

As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

The chill in the autumn air could be felt down to your bones and the piercing wind gusts assaulted you from all directions as you walked through the park.

Fallen leaves from the trees crunched underneath your feet as you watched small children smile and laugh as they picked up brightly colored leaves to show their parents.

The steady wind swept the leaves up into small funnels and pushed them across the grassy hills and deposited them along the walking path.

The sky looked unsettling and ominous. You wanted to get home quickly before the darkness and the rain came. The low rumble of thunder was what prompted everyone to gather their belongings along with their children and head for the indoors.

Some of the kids cried because they were having too much fun and didn’t want to leave. They were just so innocent and pure which made you smile and you remembered what it was like to be that young, having fun playing in leaf piles at your childhood home.

With that warm smile, you whispered to yourself but directed it at the children. “Time to go inside, little ones, it’s going to get ugly later.”

The dark gray clouds in the distance were gloomy and dismal, the small patches of sunlight were shining brightly through the fluffy black clouds, like Mother Nature couldn’t make up her mind of whether she was going to let the sun shine or rain downpour on top of you.

A few rays from the sun touched down on the path in front of you before being engulfed by the smoky clouds above.

You took a moment to gaze up at the sky…the unwelcoming early evening October sky. It was getting darker earlier and earlier, you noticed.

The musty fragrance of dead leaves crept up to your nose as you raced faster toward home and the once dull roll of thunder that had been off in the distance was now a gentle boom overhead.

“Please, just wait until I get home.” You silently begged. “Please.”

Someone was looking out for you that day, because as soon as you walked through the revolving door and stepped out onto the lobby floor, the sky exploded with a vengeful crack and a jagged bolt of lightning split the sky right down the middle before sheets of rain pelted the sidewalk on the other side of that revolving door.

Massive raindrops trickled down off of the street lights, clobbering people’s umbrellas, their raincoats, and for the unprepared…their heads. Watching from the lobby doors, those people moved much faster. They ducked into shops and bistros, hoping the rain would die down enough for them to move again.

You were glad to be home.

After stepping off the elevator, you could hear the rain hammering incessantly against the roof. Typically, you didn’t really get thunderstorms in October and even though it was cool today, the past couple of days had been on the warmer side.

Maybe he came home before the rain too.

You unlocked and opened the door to the penthouse…it was blanketed in darkness.

“Billy?” You called out softly.

It was a long shot that he got home before you but you figured you’d try anyway.

No answer.

You thought about how it was strange that you didn’t hear from him at all today. He always called at some point during your work day to see how you were which made your heart swell. The smile that tugged at the corners of your mouth was hard to contain when you saw his name and picture light up the face of your phone.

You loved him…and he loved you, more than anything.

Pulling your phone out of your purse, you looked at it to see if he texted or called while you were walking home but there were no messages or missed calls which worried you but only a little. You knew Billy was very busy, always working, always in meetings but he ALWAYS found time to call or at least text during the day.

What could he be doing?

The only way you could warm up was by taking a shower, the chill inside your bones was finally gone, and you warmed your hands against the mug of hot tea in your hands but you still haven’t heard from Billy.

The clock on the wall said 8:00 PM.

You tried to call but it went right to his voicemail.

“Hey handsome, it’s me. I—uh, I’m just a little worried I haven’t heard from you today. Ok, that’s a lie, I’m a LOT worried I haven’t heard from you today. Please call me when you get this, please? I love you.”

You placed your phone down on the coffee table and tried to not let your mind wander but it was difficult not to. Was he hurt? Is he ok? Is he out in this rain?

“Please call me back, baby.” You thought to yourself.

The book you were reading couldn’t hold your interest. Between the menacing rain drumming against the roof and the windows and not hearing from Billy, you couldn’t concentrate and just kept reading the same paragraph over and over again. You tried a few times to get going but ultimately gave up and tossed the book aside.

You were confused, scared, and you started to feel cold again so you decided that maybe you would try and get some sleep. Drawing the blanket up to your chin, you tucked your knees into your chest and listened intently as the powerful wind and rain lulled you to sleep and wherever Billy was, you hoped he was safe.

He was always very quiet when he came home. Like a cat, he barely made any noise as he moved throughout the apartment. Billy wanted to rush at you, he wanted to pull you close and hold onto you tightly and say he was sorry for worrying you but he didn’t want to disturb your sleep. Instead, he sat down in his chair with a glass of bourbon, in the dark, listening to your gentle breathing.

Billy’s clothes were dirty, bloodstained, and soaking wet. Rain stuck in his eyelashes finally dripped onto his hand when he lowered it after taking a sip of his drink.

His once white undershirt stained a light red thanks to blood and rain and his raven colored hair tumbled into his eyes while drops of rain trickled onto the floor.

Those were the only noises he could hear …drip…drip…drip…drip…inhale…exhale…inhale…exhale

The bourbon was supposed to calm his nerves but he couldn’t keep his hands from shaking and he wouldn’t be able to hide from you that they were covered in blood.

“No one is taking you away from me.” He said, in barely more than a whisper.

Some of the blood was his but most of it was someone else’s. It was Carson Wolf’s blood.

Billy knew Wolf was a corrupt Homeland agent, just like he knew Rawlins was corrupt CIA. But unlike Wolf, Rawlins knew he couldn’t threaten Billy and get away with it. Billy didn’t need Rawlins’s money or connections, he built Anvil all by himself and turned him away when he wanted Billy to betray his best friend. Rawlins was lucky Frank didn’t take his other eye when he found out about that one.

No one was going to tell Billy Russo what to do, especially knowing what he would do to them if he tried.

But Carson Wolf was a cocky asshole, a Homeland Security official, highly skilled in hand-to-hand combat, and thought just because he was in a position of authority, Billy would do whatever he demanded him to do. But he was mistaken and didn’t think of the consequences to his threats.

Billy didn’t answer to anyone, he was the boss, he didn’t take any job that he didn’t want to and didn’t respond well to threats against him…or threats toward his girl.

“It would be a shame if something happened to that VERY pretty girlfriend of yours, Mr. Russo.” Wolf had said.

“All I want is for you and your team to leave the Senator unguarded for a minute and I won’t have to kill her. We can make anything look like an accident, these days.”

He really shouldn’t have said that.

It got dark quickly tonight thanks to the fast moving clouds so Billy waited patiently under the cover of those somber rain clouds for Wolf to come home.

That man was going to die in his own house tonight.

No one could hear him scream as Billy sliced his skin with his hidden blade. He knew all the places to cut that would cause him the most pain and cause him to bleed profusely before he finally stabbed Wolf multiple times in the chest and across his throat. He looked like a piece of butchered meat when Billy was finished with him.

Sure, Wolf held his own against Billy for a minute or two but in the end made several mistakes that ended in his demise and before he left, Billy cleaned his blade with Wolf’s pocket square from his suit jacket, dropped it onto his lifeless body and destroyed any evidence that he had been there.

Billy didn’t call you today because he left everything at Anvil, his phone, his car, even Frank didn’t know where he had gone.

And now he sat quietly in front of you, his eyes finally adjusted to the darkness and he could finally make out your silhouette, just thankful that you were ok and that you were safe. Billy never lost his composure after Wolf threatened your life or while he was torturing him.

“See, you should have known better than to threaten my girl. Do you know what it feels like to have your Achilles sliced open? Or how ‘bout the femoral artery? Because you’re gonna know and it’s gonna hurt…a lot.” Billy had said to him with an evil smile.

Billy Russo was a soldier, a scout sniper, highly skilled and trained to be a killer. His hands never faltered and were steady but after it was over, he allowed himself to feel scared, to think about what he would do if something were to happen to you, that’s when they started to shake.

The bourbon finally helped him calm down, his hands were less shaky and his heart rate had come down when you started to wake up.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you saw his silhouette in front of you as you sat up on the couch.

“Billy? What time is it?” You asked softly.

“It’s almost midnight, sweet girl.” He replied, happy to hear your voice.

Reaching for the lamp, you flicked it on. The site in front of you was like something out of a slasher movie, his hands stained with blood, along with his clothes, his hair was soaked from the rain and you could hear it dripping onto the floor.

You sat there for a moment, frozen with your hands covering your open mouth before speaking again and going to him.

“Oh my god! Billy? W-what happened?! Is that your blood?!” You asked with concern in your voice before rushing to the kitchen to retrieve some hand towels.

“Maybe a little…but it’s mostly his.” Said Billy, stoically.

Taking his glass from him, you placed it on the coffee table and started to dry his hands.

“His? Whose blood is it, Billy?” Your voice hitched and cracked as you asked him.

Billy gazed at you with his endless brown eyes, they looked like two shiny pieces of black glass. He had never felt more relieved, he had never felt love like this, and he had never been more in love with you than he was right now watching you care for him and comfort him.

“Whose blood is it, Billy?!! Answer me!” You said sternly.

“Wolf…It’s Carson Wolf’s blood.” He said gently.

You recognized that name, he worked for Homeland Security, and pictured his face in your mind. You remembered meeting him at a fundraiser that Billy brought you to and you also remembered how he sent shivers down your spine, obviously not in the good way. The man had a crooked smile, he put out an evil vibe, and eyed you all night long like you were a piece of meat.

The man gave you the creeps.

“He’s…dead?” You asked, shakily.

Billy clenched his fist and gnashed his teeth as he spoke again, and didn’t directly answer your question.

“I’m not gonna be who they want me to be, y/n! They’re not gonna tell me what to do and they need to know what happens to anyone who threatens me or anyone who threatens…you. Rawlins already knows…Wolf will NOT get another chance to do it again! I’ve never needed anyone, I don’t need their money, I don’t need anything from them but I…I need you.” He said.

You tried to comprehend what Billy just confessed to you. He killed him, he killed Carson Wolf. The threat he made against you was real and Billy made sure that threat was his last.

The spatters of blood on his face, the little red flecks that decorated his beard were everywhere, and there was a streak of red going across his cheek. All of it should have scared you, it should have made you think twice about what he had just done but it didn’t.

Billy didn’t scare you even though you knew what he was capable of and you tried to imagine the look Carson Wolf had in his eyes as he took his last breaths, realizing too late that he should have left you out of it and he should have done his own dirty work, but he would never get that chance. The senator was safe from Wolf, whatever it was he had planned for him. He was safe…for now.

“I’ll kill them all, baby…no one is taking you away from me. I love you.” Said Billy, his hand cupping your cheek as he leaned in and gently pressed his lips to yours.

As you towel dried his hair, his obsidian colored eyes silently told you how much he loved you, the way he did not want to break that gaze, and the way he brushed the soft skin of your cheek with such a gentle touch.

Those actions all relayed to you that Billy Russo was catastrophically in love with you and showed the world what he would do to the people who tried to take that love away, the love he craved, and the love that he deserved.

After rising to his feet, you led him to the bathroom and turned on the shower. Neither of you took your eyes off the other as you stripped off each other’s clothes, leaving them in a pile in the corner to be disposed of later.

There wasn’t anything left for you to say as the tears streamed down your cheeks, thankful he was alive, thankful he was home with you, and thinking that there was no way that you could ever repay him for what he had done for you.

But Billy didn’t want anything in return except to be loved by you.

He gave you a warm smile before kissing you once more. He pulled you flush to his chest, squeezed you tightly, and let the hot water splash against his back.

Glancing at your feet, you watched the blood from his body, and yours, wash down the shower drain…just like the rain outside washed away the dirt from the sidewalk.

You’ve never felt safer and you never would with anyone but him.

Billy’s beard tickled your lips as you kissed his cheek and whispered softly in his ear.

“I love you too, Billy.”

Tag List: @mindidjarin @saintmurd0ck @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @xdervyxccgh @mattmurdocksscars @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialams @idek-what-to-put @anastasianeedstoread @ratsys @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla @qu1etwolf @danzer8705

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @mrsbillyrusso @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @justaharlequin

If you’d like to be added (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine #billy russo x female reader #billy russo x you

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mokureen · 4 months

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hi trigun nation i'm back again with the brainworms (and a tiny bit late for the tristamp anniversary). presenting: volume 10, vashwood and the couch in song form!

the lyrics (under the cut) are what i imagined some of wolfwood's thoughts would've been during chapter 64 . the main vocals are wolfwood and the backing vocals (in brackets) are vash! i tried to squeeze in as many references to the manga as possible ❤️🤞

lyrics: that night i stood with a gun to your head i called you a monster. i was wrong, and i was scared you knew. i know you knew the hardest thing is you would’ve let me shoot.

you prayed to a god that you didn’t believe in while i sat by your side and did my best to breathe in you begged. oh god, you begged for all the days that we had hoped we’d have.

you wear your smile like your armour, wield your laughter like it's your gun but your smile, your real one, is brighter than every sun i missed it. i miss it but i’m sorry i asked for it all the same.

i think back to the things we both wish we had said three words we always lingered on, but hid behind our violence instead ("i love you." i love you) i wish i had been brave enough to say.

and i’m running out of time (please wait for me) and i’m leaving you behind (there's a ticket still free) oh love, please don’t cry (spend your tomorrows with me) i don’t want to die.

#trigun maximum #vashwood #vash the stampede #nicholas d wolfwood #wolfwood #trigun #trimax #tristamp anniversary #trigun manga #the couch #fan song #??? i guess that's what this is #trimax volume 10 #the song's still in production so i'll put it up on soundcloud/youtube once i'm happy with it fjffj #my music #always forget to tag that lmao

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floral-force · 1 year

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first request ever for you so HERE WE GO! i’m kinda stuck on the thought of like, angst right now. maybe hurt/comfort. but here’s the idea: i haven’t finished s3 yet so pardon me if this is completely wrong, but imagine like, in general, din, the other mandalorian and friends are going to battle to like re-take mandalore or smth, take over smth that’s very important. reader and grogu are both force sensitive and when din thinks victory is theirs, one last attack hits, making reader grab grogu and like bins their force together like from fire, and reader ends up getting burned. i need a nice juicy hurt/comfort with some marriage at the end 🤞

I really ran away with this idea. I needed to flex my din djarin muscles again and this was a great prompt for that! I got into a flow, one thing led to another, and now I present you with the fic below. all I can do now is sit and hope you enjoy it!

(requests are open! search the tags #prompt requests or #prompts and send me an ask!)

The Only Hope for Me Is You

Din Djarin x GN!Reader, Force user!Reader

summary: Din’s fearless, Force-sensitive partner has been at his side through everything. Unknown to him, his partner has slowly fallen in love with him. When Din gets the chance to start a new life after they help retake Mandalore, a confession paves a new path. Will they choose to take it?

words: 4.8k+

warnings/tags: my blog is 18+ ONLY/NO MINORS, fluff, first kiss, minor injury (burn), Mando'a pet names, marriage, soft!din djarin, the helmet comes off, grogu is a guest star

read on ao3 | masterlist | send a request

They were fearless and brave—something Din deeply admired about them. They never hesitated to protect Grogu or scout ahead of Din. Sometimes, he’d nearly beg them to stay behind him or at least stay close. They’d insist that they’d be okay— “I have the Force on my side, Din”—but the love he carried for them in his beskar-plated chest would have him close to begging them to let him protect them. Din would fall to his knees for them and grant their every wish. He wished he could rip open his chest and show them how his heart beat only for them and the child.

Din had gripped their arms before they both left the ship to retake Mandalore, had told them that they needed to put their and the child’s safety first. He thought he’d gotten through to them, had broken through their stubbornness. Din really thought that telling them how important they were to him back on Nevarro would soften it and make them more compliant when he asked them to listen for their own safety. They’d nodded and held Grogu closer to their chest, leaned into Din’s touch when he put a gloved hand on their cheek, kissed his palm with their soft lips.

Din should have known better.

When a fireball was headed towards where he, Bo, Grogu and they knelt, Din knew Bo’s small shield would do nothing. He accepted that he’d die for his home and his people. He’d closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and made peace with it as it barreled towards them, the heat closing in. But when he looked to his side to look at them and Grogu one last time, they weren’t there. They were on their knees next to the child in front of him and Bo, their left arm extended, the other flat against the ground behind Grogu. Their body was angled slightly in front of Grogu, a protective stance so they would take the brunt of any injury. His breath caught in his throat when he realized the fire was splitting around them, diverted by an invisible forcefield that they and Grogu created with their powers. Bo looked at Din, and he glanced at her, but kept his helmet trained on them.

Din moved again when the fire dissipated and they yelped, falling forward to the ground, Grogu plopping down to sit. His breath caught in his throat—they were alive, but he could tell their breaths were labored from exertion. Bo scooped Grogu into her arms and nodded at Din before lifting into the air. Din shook his head when he took them into his arms, noticing a blistering burn spreading up their left forearm from the wrist to the elbow. As he followed Bo into the air and escaped with them from the crumbling cave, he squeezed them closer in his arms, whispering their name to himself.

He hoped to whatever powers may be that they would be okay, that he’d get to spend another day with his brave partner and son.

“Din?” you groaned, rubbing your eyes. Your vision was blurry and the environment around you was dark and quiet. All you knew was that you were laying down on a ship, the mattress under your back firm and the hum of engines filling your ears. Your pulse quickened and you nearly shouted, “Where am I?”

Your anxiety started to fade away when a familiar hand brushed your head, rubbing its thumb across your sweaty forehead.

“Shh, cyar’ika, I’m here.” Your vision adjusted, and you saw a beskar helmet hovering over you. Din was on your left side, forcing you to gently turn your head to see him better. “We’re going back to Nevarro.”

You made a mental note to ask him about that word later. “It’s over?”

He nodded. “It’s over.” When you went to move your left arm, you hissed in pain. Din gently pressed your hand back down to rest on the rack. “You’re hurt. Don’t move that arm.”

You lifted your head up and looked down your torso to see your forearm wrapped in a bandage, some pink splotches bleeding through the white material. You looked for Grogu, but when you didn’t see him, you panicked.

“Where is—What happened to Gro—”

“He’s okay,” Din assured, his voice low and grounding.

He was the calm in your storm, always calling you back when you drifted away. It was one of the things you loved about him. Din centered you and grounded you, reminded you of your strength and power. Without Din, you’d surely be dead by now. Even the Force couldn’t save you from making rash decisions driven by emotion alone.

It was why you couldn’t train Grogu when Din found you and asked you. You’d agreed to travel with him and at least get Grogu started, help him start to channel his abilities. At least you’d be able to leave the backwater planet you were hiding on and start to consider the possibility of a new life elsewhere. Slowly, you got to know your beskar pilot better, constantly fighting the feelings growing within you. He was witty and smart, protective and surprisingly passionate. Din had made it incredibly hard not to fall for him when he gave you gentle touches and soft reassurances.

You were the one comforting him when he gave Grogu away to Luke Skywalker. Din had looked at you later on Boba’s ship and taken your hand in his, giving it a tight squeeze. You selfishly hoped he felt the same, but it wasn’t likely. You had let your feelings consume you not long ago, but you stood on uncertain ground with the armored object of your affection. The doubt festered within you even after he’d taken you aside and told you that you mattered a great deal to him and the child, and that you needed to be careful.

But those feelings were why you didn’t hesitate to leave his side and stay next to the selfless little child as he fought back the fireball. You joined him and felt your energy quickly fading; you hadn’t exerted yourself this much in years. You held on and fought back the black threatening your vision, pushing yourself to protect your little family and the woman who had looked out for all of you. You must have let go a little too early, judging by the bandage on your arm. If getting a burn meant your family survived, then you would gladly offer your skin to the flames every day for the rest of your life.

Looking into the visor above you, you had no doubt in your mind about where your heart was and who you were called home to. The galaxy had given you a purpose when Din had entered your small hut with a tiny, big-eared, green baby in his satchel. You were determined to fight for them with every breath you took. Even if Din didn’t feel the same, you’d defend him with your dying breath. That was what mattered.

“Are you okay, Din?” You asked, your voice hoarse.

He nodded and reached over your torso to place a hand on your waist, gripping it as if he could lose you again at any moment. “I’m fine, cyar’ika. Bo is flying us back to Nevarro, and we’ll go from there.”

There was that word again. You swallowed and felt fatigue sweeping over your body again. You looked up at him and asked meekly, “Can I go back to sleep?”

He chuckled, a low hum in his chest. He said your name with a nod. “Yes. I’ll be here at your side the entire time.”

You gave him one last smile before closing your eyes and drifting back to sleep.

You’d grinned when Din told Karga he’d take up his offer of land and a cabin. The two men shook hands as Grogu cooed in your arms. Greef had looked at you both with a knowing smile.

“Hopefully, you can all rest now. Nevarro is thankful for all that you’ve done.”

Din nodded at his old friend. “I can’t thank you enough.”

Greef shook his head. “Not necessary, my friend. It’s the least I can do.”

The cabin was modest in size and decoration. It had basic furniture and cookware, enough to get by while shopping around for new things. The hot spring in front of the cabin kept Grogu occupied, and the porch let Din kick his feet back and relax for the first time in his life. Din left that same day to make a quick trip to the Adelphi outpost and told you about his offer to Captain Teva upon his return. While it made you nervous—these Imperial remnants were serious threats—you were glad he could return to bounty hunting on his terms with somewhere stable to return to. The end of this journey left you even more uncertain about your place in the world—was it with Din and the child? Were you meant to leave and start a life somewhere else, hiding again?

That night, you sat on the porch with him under the stars. His armor and gloves were off, his bare tan skin in the open air. You felt entirely at peace—Grogu was asleep in the cabin, your belly was still full from dinner, cheeks a little heated from the wine you’d indulged in—and you were overjoyed to be sharing this with Din. Despite your confusion, you were so grateful to share this moment of calm with him as he began a new life. So much so, that you needed to tell him. You couldn’t stand the thought of leaving things unsaid. You stood up and cleared your throat. His helmet turned to look at you, the hand he had resting on his thigh clenching into a fist.

“Din, I have something to tell you.”

“Are you alright, cyar’ika?” Din asked with worry in his modulated voice. “Is it your burn? Are you injured?”

Before he could get up and fuss over you, you shook your head and pushed on his chest so he’d relax back into the chair. “No, Din, I’m fine. I promise. It’s just—” you bit your lip and glanced around— “this is important.”

“You can tell me,” he said, sitting up and taking your hands in his. His gentleness never failed to surprise you. The man had killed so many for his son and for you, had fought his way through hell and back just to help retake his people’s home, had experienced so much hurt and pain. But despite it all, he sat in front of you stripped of his armor, defenseless and trusting you not to hurt him.

You turned your head to stare at the flats stretching into the dark. Your eyes glanced up at the stars to avoid his helmet before dropping to the cement beneath your shifting feet. Taking a deep breath to center yourself, you turned your head and focused back on the visor and how the beskar was gently lit by the two warm yellow porch lights. You absentmindedly stroked your bandage and sighed.

“I love you, Din.” Your heart was drumming in your chest and shaking your skin.

He was silent. Off in the distance, something chirped, and you heard yourself swallow. You weren’t sure if you preferred silence, or his modulated voice, even if it was a rejection. The doubts that lay dormant within your chest rose with a snarl and twisted under your ribs. Each second that passed in silence let them sink their claws into you a little bit more each time.

Finally, he softly whispered your name and squeezed your hands. Din rose to his feet and gently pulled you closer. You could smell him—sandalwood, musk, leather. Intoxicating and alluring, just as it had been from the beginning. You wanted so badly to taste him, too—to feel his lips on yours and melt into him.

“I love you too,” he murmured. Din cupped your cheek with his hand and stroked it with his thumb.

You sighed in relief and chuckled, dropping his hand to rest yours on his chest, tugging on the fabric of his flight suit. Din wrapped his arms around you and held you close in his embrace, a large hand cupping the back of your head. You sank into his warmth and let yourself go limp with love, feeling your mind calm for the first time in a long time.

“I was really hoping you’d say that,” you mumbled into his chest.

“You thought I wouldn’t?” he asked, his words vibrating underneath you.

You shook your head. “I thought you wouldn’t want…” You trailed off and hummed.

“Wouldn’t want what? Wouldn’t want you?”

When you nodded against him, he dropped his arms and gripped yours, his warm palms burning through the fabric of your sleeves. Din took a step back and shook his head.

“That couldn’t be further from the truth, cyar’ika.”

You felt your eyes start to water. “Really?”

He nodded and ran his hands along the curve of your shoulders to your neck. Broad thumbs stroked the underside of your jaw. Your chest expanded with something warm and bright, the Force flowing through you with an unusual calmness. Your doubts had fled into the night, replaced with that glowing love and calm that only something truly wonderful can create. It felt as if you were meditating and at one with everything around you. You wouldn’t want to feel this way with anyone else.

“I adore you.” Din stated. “You’re one of the most fearless and honorable people I know. You’re selfless to a fault, always putting others first.” He chuckled. “I think the burn is proof of that.”

You smiled. “I’d have to agree.”

He nodded. “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, cyar’ika.”

“I think you are too, Din.”

“You’ve never even seen me.”

You shrugged. “Don’t have to. I just know you are.”

“Would you—” Din cleared his throat. “Would you want to see me?”

“Din, no, your Creed—”

“I can remove it—” he said, cutting you off— “when I find the person I want to marry.”

You felt as if he’d stolen the air from your lungs, everything leaving your body with a sudden, stunned exhale. You’d been at his side throughout this journey with him and only stayed behind a few times, one of which being his redemption in the living waters. He hadn’t told you much about that moment, but you didn’t need all the details to know how much it meant to him. You could practically see him beaming under his beskar when the covert accepted him again. Hearing him offer to remove his helmet just so you could see him filled you with love, but fear as well.

He caught on to your hesitancy and nerves. “Are you afraid I’m ugly?”

“No, I just—I…” You stopped and sighed, your chest deflating. “I don’t want to be the reason you become an apostate again.”

“No, cyar’ika, no.” He placed one of his hands on your waist. “Mandalorians can remove their helmets for the person they want to marry.”

Your eyes widened. “You want…to marry me?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t sure.”

He was right. When he spoke, there was rarely uncertainty in his words. Din was unwavering and steadfast, rigid and surefooted.

“And that’s one of the things I love about you.” You gave him an affectionate smile. “But, you’re sure?” Din nodded; you raised an eyebrow. “Absolutely certain?” Another nod. “Entirely, fully—”

Din drawled your name and laughed, dropping his hands to his sides. “There’s nobody else I want to spend forever with.”

“Not your son?” He groaned and you patted his chest, letting your hand linger over his heart. “Just teasing you, my love.”

Din placed his hands over yours and asked, “You’re sure you want to be with me? That you want to see me?”

“Absolutely, positively, one-hundred percent sure.” You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the back of his hand, skin warm under your lips.

All he did was nod and bring his hands to the side of his helmet. You watched him turn away to take it off, a soft hiss before he removed it and revealed tousled brown curls to you. His hair was short and messy, and you already adored him. Din set his helmet on the chair, and you heard him take a deep breath before facing you again. Your breath hitched in your throat when you laid your eyes upon him for the first time.

Maker, he was ethereal.

Even with the dim light, you could see a hint of a flush across his cheeks. His brow had a few lines showing his age and the stress of his profession. A mustache lay above his plush, pink lips. It was nearly impossible to resist smothering them with yours the longer you stared at him. Patchy brown scruff crept up from his soft jawline; you tilted your head and saw a small patch of gray near his jaw on the left side. You made a mental note to kiss that spot often. His curved nose split his face almost perfectly in two, accenting it perfectly. It was hard to make out the color of his eyes, so you took a step forward and squinted, placing your hands on his cheeks. Din inhaled sharply at your touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment before opening and gazing into yours again. Finally, you were able to make out the color—a warm chestnut brown.

“Din,” you breathed. “You’re beautiful.”

He placed a hand over one of your wrists, the other on your cheek. Seeing him softly smile made your heart soar and touch the stars above. He leaned in and your heart started to race as those warm eyes got closer to yours, his lips now close enough that you could lean forward and close the gap. Electricity ran up your spine when he whispered your name; you could feel his breath push against your mouth, tempting you to give in. Your bones felt like they were vibrating; whether it was from nerves or your unconscious disturbance in the Force, you weren’t sure.

“You have no idea how happy it makes me to finally see you without the visor.” His low voice was even sweeter without the vocoder’s slight modulations. His thumb stroked back and forth over your skin, leaving you breathless.

“I’ve never been happier than I am now,” you confessed.

Din nodded, his eyes half closed and flitting between yours and your lips. “Me too, cyar’ika. I love you.”

You choked back a happy sob with a chuckle and a soft smile. “I love you too, Din,” you panted.

Din stole his name from your mouth as his lips crashed into yours. The fingers on your cheek gently pressed into your skin as if he was afraid of you slipping away into the night. His grip on your wrist loosened and he grabbed your waist, pulling you even closer to him. Yours fell to his neck, trailing down to his chest, nails scratching against the fabric hiding his skin from your greedy touch. Din pulled back only an inch and you both panted, catching your breath. His hand moved to the back of your head and his fingers rubbed slow circles into your scalp.

“I’ll never get enough of you.”

You shook your head and gave him a quick kiss. “I want to get married tomorrow.”

Din pressed another breathless kiss to your lips. “Tomorrow?”

You nodded and stroked his jaw with your right hand’s knuckles, lavishing in how he nearly whimpered at the feeling of your skin on his. You knew that you’d never be able to see or touch his handsome face enough. It was a sight you wanted to see forever. His smile lit you up from the inside out, sent shockwaves throughout your body. He calmed you even more without his helmet.

“Yeah,” you smiled against his lips. “I can’t wait any longer.”

His laugh was warm and lighter than you’d ever heard it before. “You’ve always been impatient.”

“Oh, you love it, Din Djarin.”

Din nodded. “I do,” he rasped against your mouth, quiet pants mixing with yours.

His lips melted into yours once again, making your brain buzz with ecstasy. If this was a dream, you never wanted to wake up.

He woke up the next morning in bed with them at his side. He rolled over to face them, propping himself up on his elbow, resting his head on the heel of his hand. They lay on their right side, lips slightly parted and a little speck of drool on the corner of them. The morning light cast a natural spotlight on them and made Din’s heart burn even more for his soon-to-be riduur—his spouse, his partner for life. He felt himself smile as their eyes slowly opened, squinting and then focusing on him. They beamed at Din, filling the room with their radiance.

“Hello, handsome,” they said with a hoarse voice. Din hummed when their fingers graced over his cheek, nails gently grazing his stubble. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be, cyar’ika.”

“I forgot to ask,” they yawned. “What does that word mean?”

“Cyar’ika?” They nodded, and Din continued, “It means darling. Sweetheart.”

They gave him a sleepy smile. “I like that. Maybe I’ll start using it.”

Din pinched their chin and shook his head. “No. That word is yours.”

“I’m not a Mandalorian, goofy.”

“But soon you’ll be married to one.” Din laughed when they rolled their eyes and groaned dramatically. “It’s yours. It always has been.”

They gave Din a soft smile, then rolled onto their back and reached out for the holopad on the bedside table. Din watched them push themselves up and lean back against the headboard with a few tired huffs. He pushed himself up and scooted closer, pressing his leg against theirs, feeling their warm skin against his. They were talking, but Din was too focused on their beauty that he missed everything.

“Din?” they said, raising an eyebrow. “Did you get all of that?”

“No,” he grabbed their jaw and pulled them in for a kiss. “I was too busy staring at you.”

He loved the way they looked when they were flustered—face-splitting smile, nose crinkled, and the corners of their eyes creased.

“That’s very sweet, my love. But this time, I need you to listen.” They cleared their throat. “Bo is coming over in an hour to go with me into town. Karga is coming over a little bit after that to get you and Grogu. The Armorer said the late evening—right at dusk—is when we’ll have the ceremony, and she told you to meet her there an hour beforehand.”

“Dusk?” Din’s eyebrows knitted together. “She didn’t give a time?”

They shook their head and held out the pad. Din took it and they got up, swallowing and feeling his ears heat up when he saw that they were still naked. Last night had been incredible to say the least. He wasn’t upset that they hadn’t hidden their stunning body under fabric before falling asleep on his chest, one of their hands resting on it, and the other loosely clutching his bicep. Stroking their head as they drifted off to sleep had been one of the most peaceful experiences of Din’s life. If this was going to be the rest of his life, then he was the luckiest man in the galaxy.

Din was reminded of that at dusk under a purple sky when they stood in front of him again, staring at him and into his eyes despite the visor. It hurt to see them with a barrier again, but the Armorer assured him they’d have a hidden moment alone together after the ceremony. He could feel the joy radiating off them, enveloping him in a safe embrace that only they could ever give him. Grogu made a small noise, and he looked down at his son, one of his tiny claws touching his calf. After this, they’d be a clan of three, and Din could be free to show his face in his home—their clan’s home—with his riduur and their little green ad’ika.

Din had never been happier in his entire life.

The ceremony flashed by—Mandalorians were known for their prowess in battle, not lengthy displays of love—and soon Din was holding hands with his riduur. Grogu sat on a rock within arm’s reach, focused on levitating a few random pebbles on the ground. His helmet sat next to his son; Din looked into his spouse’s eyes, unmasked. It was heavenly. Their clan was standing behind a piece of stone jutting out of the ground, wide enough and tall enough to hide them from view. A couple Mandalorians stood watch a few meters away on the other side, making sure they were safe from being seen.

“You look beautiful,” Din said, stroking their cheek with his fingers.

“So do you,” they replied. “The beskar is extra shiny. I like it.”

“Good. Worked my ass off polishing it.” Din gave them a quick kiss, swallowing their laugh at his comment. His right hand was resting at the base of their skull, the other holding their left hand. “You deserve nothing but the best.”

“So do you, Din,” they breathed, pulling him towards them with hungry eyes.

Din groaned when they kissed him with passion, burning him from within. They turned him to ash and brought him back to life all in the same breath. All he needed was their love, and he’d live forever. As their lips meshed together, he let go of their hand and placed it on the small of their back, making sure this was real—that they really were warm under his palm, that their lips were soft and delicious, that they were really his.

Din pulled back and stared into their eyes, giving them a kiss on the forehead, then the cheek. He heard one of the watchers call out for them to return soon, and he gave his riduur a wide grin; his cheeks were beginning to hurt from how much he’d been smiling.

“Well,” they sighed, pushing away to reach over and grab his helmet, “time to go.”

Din looked at his son. “Grogu.” He smiled when the child looked up at him with his large eyes. “You ready?”

“Patu,” the child cooed, reaching his little claws up.

Din lifted him up and set him on the ground, indulging his request. He knew that Grogu was more than capable of jumping to the ground and landing without injury, but his son seemed to love his touch and affection almost as much as he loved eating. Din was always happy to spoil his ad’ika no matter what the request was, and so was his riduur.

He looked back up at his stunning riduur and took the helmet from them. Din gave them one last kiss, letting their hand trail down his cheek to his jaw, then down his neck as he slowly replaced his helmet. Their hand landed on his chest plate, resting over his heart. That was where they lived within him; something deep and vital and full of love and life. Losing them would destroy him. He vowed to always protect them, to fight for them with every ounce of his being. Din looked at them again, gently resting his hand on their neck and smiling at the way they looked at him, their eyes full of love and hope.

“Come on, my love,” they said with a grin that could light up the darkest cave. “Let’s celebrate.”

Din nodded and said their name, loving the way they looked at him when it rolled off his tongue and into the air. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They took his hands and met his helmet’s gentle tilt forward with their forehead for a Keldabe kiss. Din had a feeling it would be the first of many that night. They stepped back and started to pull him with them, Grogu keeping pace with his slow, resigned steps.

Shereshoy. That was what he’d been feeling ever since last night—maybe even before then, maybe when he’d first met them. They gave him the strength to go on, motivated him to be as fearless as them, made him let go of his fears and let himself fall in love. As they walked into the light of the party to a symphony of cheers and clangs of beskar vambraces on chest plates, Din grinned. He was right where he belonged. Din was burning with a newfound lust for life and determination to keep his clan safe and forever loved. He never wanted the fire within him to go out.

Mando'a Translations: ad'ika [ah-DEE-kah]: little one, son, daughter of any age cyar'ika [shar-EE-kah]: darling, sweetheart riduur [REE-door]: partner, spouse, husband, wife shereshoy [sheh-REYSH-oy]: lust for life and much more - uniquely Mandalorian word, meaning the enjoyment of each day and the determination to seek and grab every possible experience, as well as surviving to see the next day - hanging onto life and relishing it..

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braxlrose · 11 months

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Is it just me or is the tokio hotel fandom already starting to die out? Cuz it's so obvious some people were js trend hoppers 💀 I hope the real ones still stay 😙🤞

Some tom appreciation for yall 😍

#tom kaulitz #bill kaulitz #georg listing #gustav schäfer #tokio hotel #tokio hotel edits #tom kaulitz edits #bill kaulitz edits #georg listing edits #gustav schäfer edits

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this-is-krikkit · 4 months

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Hey Sunshine 💕

You can't imagine how sorry I am that you lost all these gems you wrote 😭 Fate as deprived us of so many amazing Levihan fics & kisses 🥺 I really hope there's a way to get them back 🤞🍀

Seeing the last prompt list you reblogged (soft fic) I couldn't resist requesting 26 Pyjamas for Levihan or Erurihan because of the headcanons we talked about the other day based on this beautiful fanart 😉

I hope writing something new will cheer you up a bit!

Sending love & hugs 💕🫂

hey Val ♥️ as you know, i did get my wips back!! your good luck wishes seem to have worked haha

thank you for sending me one of these soft prompts. inspiration took a while to come for this one, but then i stumbled upon this post:

and i knew i had your fic. hope you enjoy! ♥️

The Momentum Principle (read on ao3)

Words: 2566 Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Levi Ackerman & Hange Zoë, Levi Ackerman/Hange Zoë, Levi Ackerman & Nanaba & Erwin Smith & Mike Zacharias & Hange Zoë Characters: Hange Zoë, Levi Ackerman, Erwin Smith, Mike Zacharias, Nanaba (Shingeki no Kyojin) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - College/University, Best Friends, Unrequited Crush, Canon Non-Binary Character, They/Them Pronouns for Hange Zoë, SNK Veterans - Freeform, and they were ROOMMATES, (oh my god they were roommates), no beta we die like that vine ref SIKE IT'LL NEVER DIE, pretentious titling because that's how i roll

Summary: Studies show that staying awake for over twenty-four hours has similar effects on the human brain as having a bloodstream concentration of alcohol way over legal limits. Biology major Hange Zoë is aware of that fact. Sadly, they’re also aware that there are finals to pass, and not enough hours in a day to study for them.

Hange frowned at the page before their eyes and clicked the table lamp off and back on, ignoring the annoyed stares the repeated and ineffective gesture got them from the students around –served them all right anyway, they mused, when they’d all been regularly stealing Hange glances they didn’t even bother to try and make discreet all morning. But something other than being ogled at like a circus freak was making it hard to decipher the words in front of them, though they couldn’t put their finger on what exactly. The world around them had been seeming especially bleak lately and even more so today, which wasn’t unusual during the intense studying marathons they famously put themself through with finals drawing near, but they couldn’t recall a time where it had actually impacted their already damaged eyesight; and the persistent, pulsing ache tracing along their temples sure wasn’t helping.

The most rational part of their brain offered stress and weariness as culprits, and Hange had to admit they couldn’t easily dismiss either of those. The cramming schedule they’d been imposing on themself may have gotten a little out of hand in the last couple of weeks, so much so Hange couldn’t even remember the last time they’d set foot in the living room to share homemade dinners or play board games with their four roommates like they usually would during cold winter evenings. They hadn’t even partook in early morning idle chitchat or occasional evening drinks on their way home from the campus library, not when they’d been consistently arriving right on opening time –they’d been pulling all nighters more often than not, anyway, and felt too restless to stay home and wait for the others to get ready– and had become the last student to leave it at night.

Hange closed their eyes for a minute as they let their head fall forward, rolling their neck and shoulders and relishing in the satisfying crack their muscles and tendons sighed out at the stretch. If only their brain could gain knowledge through osmosis via that simple contact between their forehead and over-highlighted textbook; if information were to be solutes, then, considering how little they’d efficiently memorized lately, it would flow right inside their lowly concentrated head without a doubt. They smiled at that absurd reflection, giddy with the realization that hey, they’d apparently managed to remember some things from those hellish Introduction to Fluid Mechanics lectures.

That unexpected sense of comfort was short lived, however, when they were hit with a wave of the increasingly familiar nausea their self inflicted sleep deprivation never failed to bring. Hange opened their eyes to fight the dizziness and took deep breathes in and out, silently counting up the right inhale to exhale ratio –simultaneously urging their body to hold up for a little while longer.

Two weeks, they pleaded. Just two more weeks and I can take a break.

Seven long sleepless days and nights of tensed cramming, followed by a week of nerve-wracking and hopefully mostly accurate square ticking in reply to more often than not purposefully confusingly phrased questions, and then they’d be free to hang out with their friends and be a, well, not exactly normal, but close to normal young adult again.

But the thought saddened more than it motivated them, and they had to consciously stop themself from looking around to see if they could spot any of the three blondes they’d come to think of as family. Erwin, Nanaba and Mike all had similar exams to take soon and the spacious library had filled in by whatever time it was now, so they would no doubt be within these four walls. Sundays usually involved morning revising, followed by strictlynon-academic plans everyone would have previously agreed onfor their common weekly afternoon off.

Hange winced at the pang of loneliness they felt when they realized they actually had no idea what their closest friends would be up to later. It only got worse when they remembered that Levi, who they’d been trying not to focus any thoughts on as those were proving more and more distracting these past few months, hadn’t tried to coax them into coming along this weekend like he’d done since they’d started studying more intensely. Hange had noticed Erwin’s surprised glances and Mike and Nanaba’s barely disguised teasing laughs when he’d started doing it, and they couldn’t really blame any of them –after all, that initiative from Levi had been a drastic switch from their previously established social roles.

Lost in memories of Levi’s techniques to get them to go out, which had mostly consisted of an association of almost threats and intense glaring until they would caved –which they hadn’t, amazingly– it took them a minute to notice the hand upon their right shoulder.

“Get up,” a familiar voice whispered up close, startling them.

Shit. Think of the devil.

Levi had also been pestering them about taking an actual break, on top of the Sunday festivities they’d been avoiding, but up until now their shared roommates had acted as enough of a buffer that Hange had been able to pretend they hadn’t noticed his nagging messages in the groupchat or pointed stares near the laundry machine.

“I’m fine right here,” they said cheerfully, pretending to focus on their textbook again and turning the page they’d been staring for a while without managing to actually read a word of it.

They weren’t sure they could get up, really, not without betraying their exhausted state to their closest friend and having to admit just how shitty they’d been at taking care of themself lately.

They swallowed back a shocked yelp as hands seized them up and pulled them to their feet anyway, and they caught themself on the table at the last moment to prevent the inevitable fall that would await them if they really were to put all their weight on their knees right now.

“What are you doing?” they asked through gritted teeth, unable to glare back at him as the head rush made dark spots dance in front of their eyes. “Let me go, I need to study.”

Levi wordlessly –and annoyingly easily– tore them away from their spot, half carrying them until they were both standing in front of one of the nearby arch windows. Hange muffled their protesting squeals out of some remnant of respect for the nosy judgmental students around, even though they knew Levi’s powerful glaring would probably prevent any of them from protesting at the noise of their struggling in the otherwise religiously quiet space.

And then they looked up and caught sight of their reflection.

And shamefully realized they could have given their curious peers the benefit of the doubt and hypothesized there might have been a valid reason behind all the curious looks they’d been getting all morning.

Hange was wearing their long sleeved purple octopus pajama top, the buttons ridiculously mismatched, with unmatched green cat-patterned pajamas bottoms –that they realized with a quiet gasp were probably Levi’s and not theirs, now that they were noticing the pants ended well above their ankles. There wasn’t one but two hair ties failing to hold their greasy matted hair up and away from their face, and their goggle-shaped sunglasses were hanging crooked on their nose with the rubber band twisted on both their temples –which finally explained part of their lingering headache, and why it was so challenging to read.

“What you need is to go home, Four Eyes.”

Tears sprung to their eyes before they could stop them, and for a minute they only stared at their shiny mirror image in quiet puzzlement. These weren’t tears of shame even if, as used as they were to being unconventional and to other people’s reaction to their self expression, this accidental pajama-in-public incident was definitely an all time new low for them. Exhaustion could have played a role, and the dark circles under their eyes as well as their paler than ever complexion easily spelled it out for them.

But mostly, Hange felt guilty. Levi had tried to mask it, but his voice had wavered over his own nickname for them, like he felt pained at seeing them in this state, and he couldn’t quite meet their eyes when that was his main tool to get anyone to comply to his requests.

“I don’t think I can,” they replied honestly.

His now openly worried gaze finally met theirs in the glass in front of them and he frowned, opening his mouth to object.

But Hange shook their head slowly in defeat.

They weren’t arguing with him, they were simply stating a truth.

They knew they must have taken the bus to get here, but they honestly couldn’t remember any part of the journey –hell, they couldn’t even remember putting shoes on, although they were glad they’d thought of that at least. They didn’t think they had a key to the apartment on them, as they usually resided in the deep pocket of the wool coat they’d forgotten to put on even before going out in this freezing winter weather. And practical issues asides, they didn’t actually trust themself to actually make it home in one piece right now, not even in the middle of a bright busy morning in the city and to their place that really wasn’t that far off campus.

Levi narrowed his eyes at them before nodding once, sharp.

“Wait outside. I’ll meet you in five.”

But Hange stood there, equally confused and chagrined at his statement. Was he going to go home with them? No, that wouldn’t do.

Levi had his own finals to study for, Hange couldn’t impose on him like that because they’d been stupid enough to push themself past their limit. They would simply have to endure a couple more hours of trying not to pass out at their seat until noon came around and all of their roommates went home anyway, to tag along without disrupting anyone’s schedule in the process.

Levi’s hands squeezed at their shoulders firmly, and his stare hardened in the window as if he could hear them reaching that conclusion.

Then he let go but didn’t move too far, seemingly unsure if Hange could actually stand by themself.

They rolled their eyes fondly, and –precociously– turned around, sporting what they hoped looked like a gentle smile and not a maniac grin –Levi’s expression remained stubbornly set, so they couldn’t tell either way– before moving carefully towards the door. They tried their hardest not to stumble on the way, and coughed to mask their giggling when they failed and almost tripped on their own feet.

Levi met them at the back exit of the building with their backpack and his own stuff shortly, and Hange didn’t bother trying to hide that they’d nearly fallen asleep on the stairs in the few minutes they’d been apart.

He frowned as they yawned without putting their hands to their mouth, but uncharacteristically didn’t comment on it as he grabbed their elbow to direct them towards an unknown car a few feet away.

They dug their heels in the sidewalk when they realized he’d ordered a paying ride for them.

“Wait, Levi, there’s no need for that. The bus–

“Won’t be here for another twenty minutes,” he interrupted. “You’re not passing out in the streets again, not under my watch.”

They recognized his clipped tone as the one that didn’t suffer any kind of discussion, even as he mentioned that party a month ago. Hange sighed inwardly, but followed his steps –they were way too tired to fight him anymore.

“What, like you’d get worried?” they still teased –they were exhausted, not dead. No way in hell would they miss an occasion to needle their favorite neat freak.

Levi snorted, and had Hange been less asleep on their feet, they’d have felt proud that they’d managed to get that sound out of him.

“I’d worry about my back, for one. I don’t want to know what carrying your unconscious ass home twice would do to it.”

“Hey, not fair!” They whined in protest, missing their target completely when they tried to playfully slap his arm. “I was at least ten pounds heavier then! And besides, Mike did most of the carrying, didn’t he?”

Hange couldn’t remember much from that night, but the rumor –in the form of Erwin and Nanaba’s recollection of the evening as they’d told it to them the following day, anyway– had Levi so worried about them passing out drunk he’d been too restlessly anxious to carry them himself, and had instead covered them in all of their friends’ coats, shoving their unconscious body in Mike’s strong arms, and then proceeding to walk beside him to closely monitor their breathing and that they wouldn’t choke on their own tongue or surprise vomit.

Hange only recalled waking up propped against multiple pillows with a pounding head and a grumpy –well, grumpier than usual– and sleep-deprived Levi who had shoved a glass of water in their shaky hand and scolded them about their alcohol consumption for the next half hour or so. It had then taken them drinking and keeping down a whole liter of diverse hydrating fluids before he’d finally left them alone to go and nurse his own hangover, and it was only after he’d left that Hange had noticed the newfound tidiness of their room and how the purple fatboy that would normally lay forgotten in a corner of the room –and under a pile of questioningly clean clothes and textbooks– had been pushed right next to their bed with a possibly Levi-shaped indentation in it.

Levi didn’t answer their rhetorical question, instead stopping in his tracks and giving them a clinical once over.

“What?” they prompted, barely resisting the urge to cross their arms to hide themself from his examination.

“Nothing,” he replied quickly, averting his eyes and opening the car door for them.

He muttered something under his breath still, and Hange’s ears caught a few words that sounded suspiciously like end up disappearing if you keep this up.

He greeted the driver and confirmed his identity as Hange plopped down with a relieved groan, and didn’t miss the concerned look Levi shot them as he sat next to them. His hand slid down from where it was still gripping their elbow to rest gently on their forearm as the car started, and they could swear he gave it a small, awkward but infinitely soft couple of comforting pats.

Hange boldly took advantage of this atypically lengthy physical contact, and moved so they could slide their hands together almost nonchalantly –almost, because they nearly faltered when Levi’s neck snapped to stare at their fingers in awe.

Hange smiled as naturally as they could to try and ease the shock from his features.

“I’ll pay you back for the ride,” they promised, squeezing his hand once.

They let him go after that. It wouldn’t do for their most introverted friend who was making sure they were getting safely home to get a brain aneurysm from their unexpected and possibly unwanted touches, after all.

“Tch. You better,” he grunted, moving his hand back to his lap immediately.

They couldn’t help but smile again when they took note that his tone wasn’t nearly as biting as they knew it could be.

#levihan fanfiction #levihan #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #aot #hange zoë #snk #levi ackerman #snk veterans #my stuff #asks #mutuals #mutuals asks #youre ackermine #don't steal the stupid divider i made it mmkay pls and thx #this will probs have a 2nd chapter bc i'm.. in love with them.#a title that's NOT lyrics!!!! omg who even am i??

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the-french-belphegor · 3 months

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Making my way (makinmawaayy) through my @critter-genfic-events bingo card, and this one's filling the "fights" slot! Or rather, "post-fight", which they told me works as well. Also it's set way before the start of the stream, when they're all more acquaintances and travelling companions than the friends and family we see later. They're already buds, though, for the most part.

Posting it on AO3 ASAP Now on AO3! Hope Tumblr doesn't hide the post from the tags! 🤞

(oh yeah, side note: I do know that concentration-based spells get dropped when you either don’t roll high enough to maintain it or when you take too much damage – like both invisibility spells do in DnD. But I liked the idea of being so concussed you don’t remember how to drop a spell :3)

—

Scrambled

Scanlan is pretty sure someone’s calling his name in the distance with a certain amount of worry. It’s okay, he thinks but doesn’t say. He’s gonna get back up any time now. He’s fine.

(Scanlan is more than fine, Scanlan is a godsdamn snack, thank you very much.)

In fact, he might even go as far as to let the word drag, let some notes slide a little: fiiiine. Four ‘i’s should about do it.

(Heh, four ‘i’s. Four eyes. That’s Percy. Where’s Percy?)

So, to recap, Scanlan is fine as hell, and he’s okay because he’s always okay, even with a headache so bad he’s pretty sure his brain is leaking out of his ears. Won’t check, though, that might be gross and his stomach isn’t doing too well either at the moment. Barfing while lying on your back? Yeah, no, bad idea. Of all the ways to die, drowning in his own puke is probably around number… sixty-eight.

Sixty-nine would be, of course, a particularly ill-advised tumble with someone with an ungodly number of teeth and a taste for blood, preferably that of a gnome with more curiosity than sense. As always with sex stuff with consenting adults, though, Scanlan isn’t willing to completely dismiss the idea.

Might be fun to try someday, who knows.

When he’s less tired.

Why’s everything swimming?

Actually asking out loud is out of the question, since for some reason his voice can’t even make it out of his throat, let alone his mouth –

(oh fuck no, if I can’t sing I’m toast, if I can’t play I’m dead, if I can’t talk we’re done)

– so at the price of an effort so bad he almost upchucks everything since the invention of breakfast Scanlan pivots his head juuuust a little to the left.

And sees nothing.

Well, no, not exactly. He sees yellowing grass, some dirt, a bit of sky. But nothing where his shoulder should be, or the rest of him.

…Oh yeah. He made himself invisible a while back. Somewhere between Tiberius’ Fireball, Vex’s arrows, and Percy’s pepperbox and its more-or-less controlled explosions. (Or maybe Percy went before him. Right before the world got very loud, very fast, and then very quiet. Somehow there’s a connection between this and that.) Dropping the invisibility looks like a really good idea, if only Scanlan could remember how. As things stand, he can barely remember to breathe. Oh, and also that the warm stickiness soaking up the back of his head and seeping into his collar is Not A Good Thing – not that there’s a lot he can do about that.

Things are rather quiet now. He must’ve missed the end of the fight.

Seriously, though, where’s Percy? Scanlan can’t hear the usual blasts and somewhere in the shattered mess that is his brain there’s a nagging inkling that it’s a bad sign. Or maybe there’s something else poking at the edges of his mind, he doesn’t know. He’s not exactly up to turning stuff over in his head at the moment. Turning his head was hard enough.

He’s just gonna… chill there for a while. Rest his eyes a little bit.

Which is why he doesn’t spot Vex running over until she drops to a crouch next to him and squashes his hand with her knee for five seconds.

Vex’ahlia is sharp eyes, sharp aim, sharp words, sharp everything. Her knees are no exception. Ow.

“Shit shit shit, fucking shitballs,” Scanlan hears her mutter under her breath as her hands find his head with uncanny precision considering she can’t see him. Her ‘t’s are beautifully defined, her vowels clear and precise. It’s a pity she sings so rarely; most performers would kill to have her diction.

“PIKE!” she yells over her shoulder. “OVER HERE!”

Pike, echoes the part of Scanlan’s mind that’s still functional. It would have been a small, pitiful yearning sound if he’d been able to speak. Thank goodness the word doesn’t pass his lips as is. It’s frankly a little scary just how the thought of her – the first in a while that doesn’t feel fractured in some way – quietens the part of him that’s not watching the proceedings with a detached interest. Pike is fun to flirt with and try to charm; she’s beautiful and radiant and strong, anyone with an appreciation for the female form can see that, so it’s not so surprising that Scanlan always feels drawn to her like a sunflower to sunshine. It’s so easy to let himself get starry-eyed over her, even if she’s so completely out of his league it bypasses sad and goes straight into funny. Scanlan probably is in love with her, a little bit, like he’s a little bit in love with everyone. Just… sometimes… sometimes when he calls her the love of his life he’s not sure he’s joking.

The nausea and the waves of blinding pain relent a little.

Pike?

No, Scanlan corrects himself, Vex, who when he manages to focus for more than a second finds his gaze and holds it. Unerringly.

Which must mean… the hour is up. The spell must be wearing off.

Huh.

“There you are,” says Vex, residual magic still shimmering in her fingers after her low-level Cure Wounds. She must really be tapped out.

There is blood in her hair and one of her feathers is bent at the stem, but the most telling cue that the fight went wrong is the brittle quality of her smile. She’s good at putting up a front, almost as good as Scanlan; insight isn’t Scanlan’s forte, let alone when his head feels like it’s just been cracked open like an egg, but sometimes seeing Vex’ahlia slice her way through life like a knife, just as sharp and just as shiny, is like staring into a warped mirror.

She’s good.

He’s better.

(Usually.)

“How’d you find me?” he croaks.

Vex draws back the hand she was using to prop herself with a couple of inches from his head. Her palm is coated with red.

“Head wounds, darling. They tend to bleed rather a lot.” She cocks her head to the side. “How did you even end up all the way here in the first place?”

Scanlan’s memories still feel like a scattered jigsaw, but at least now the pieces are right side up. What he puts together isn’t very glorious. Getting punted into a rock by a giant who only heard you and who was supposed to go down easily isn’t anything to brag about. At least he can always quip about it.

“Well,” he wheezes out with a grin that might work better without the blood in his teeth, “I got got.”

Then he remembers why the giant whirled round blindly and whacked him with his club. He’d been out of any useful magic, trying to sneak up on it with a fucking sword, of all things, because the big dumb fucknut had somehow gotten hold of—

“Shit, Percy – where’s Percy?”

Vex’s own smile gets wry and just a little shaky at the corner.

“He got got,” she says. There’s a story there, but at least Vex doesn’t look like it ended in tragedy. Instinctively Scanlan relaxes into his headache. “Don’t worry, though. Pike reached him in time and Grog and Keyleth got the giant.”

Oh. Good. Percival Freakystein von Mussels Colossal de Rolo III is one scary motherfucker with his pepperbox and his glasses and his devastating one-liners, but he’s still squishy as hell. Plus, well, he’s so young – Scanlan is fairly sure he’s twice, maybe three times older. The kid must be, what, mid-twenties tops? That’s way too young to die, especially having experienced so little of what the world has to offer. Scanlan would bet anything the stuck-up nerd has never taken anyone to bed, for the gods’ sake.

They’re all assholes, in the SHITs, sort of (except Pike, of course, and probably Keyleth too) but Scanlan likes them. If the universe suddenly decides that an asshole has to get killed today, he’d rather it be him rather than one of the others.

Still, nobody needs to know that.

“Worry, me? Please, I never worry.”

“I know you don’t, darling. I’m just updating you on what you missed while you were having a kip.”

Vex’s tone is even, her words light, and yet when Scanlan meets her gaze it’s like crossing blades. Somehow it also feels like grasping hands in reassurance and honestly it unnerves him a little. He prefers to know where they stand, and usually he does: he’ll downplay close calls and tell lewd jokes to alleviate the tension, while she’ll be sarcastic and magnificent and not call him out on his lies on the occasion she sees through them. But sometimes she reminds him that both twins are like blades, swift and sharp in more than one way, and in some of them she’s the sharpest. Gods, she’s terrifying.

He’s saved from having to retort something by the metallic rustle of ring mail over heavy cotton as Pike rushes up to him. Perspiration left traces in the dirt smudged across her face and her dark hair is mussed, whole locks coming out of her braided bun. She smells like sweat and leather and a little like wild strawberries, and she’s the most beautiful thing Scanlan’s ever seen.

Pike doesn’t lose a second with platitudes; she just gives him a very professional once-over, almost clinical in its efficiency, then cups his face with her hands with a look of intense concentration, eyes closed. The healing spell she pours into him feels so potent it’s practically an out-of-body experience. For a couple of seconds all Scanlan feels is warmth, clean and bright and fierce, and when he opens eyes he doesn’t remember closing his ears are still ringing.

Although that might be the blood loss.

Which would also neatly explain how weak he still is, especially when Pike’s face goes soft.

“You okay?” she asks quietly.

There are so many answers he could give her.

I am now – with a wink and a nod.

I want to have your babies – with a theatrical gesture that will make her laugh.

I am if you are – with his heart in a smile. (NOPE.)

“I’m always okay,” Scanlan finally says with a grin, hoping for an echo.

Which he gets, so points to him for being awesome. Pike Trickfoot should always have a reason to smile.

Vex snorts and somehow still manages to make it sound classy as hell.

“Sure. Which is why the only reason I found you at all was the random pool of blood on the ground thirty feet from where we thought you were. You’re lucky I’m a good tracker.”

“Fair, fair,” he says with a careful nod. “Although that could’ve been from some forest critter that met a grisly end.”

“Please, this much blood, and this fresh? How dumb do you think I am?”

Scanlan sits up on his elbows and counts off on his fingers. “One, that’s gross – two, ‘dumb’ is the last of things that you are and you know it all too well – three, thank you for saving my life – four, that’s still so gross, oh my gods. What’d you do, sniff out my lifeblood?!”

“It was me or Trinket,” says Vex, looking way more smug than she has any right to. “It just so happens I beat him at the game of ‘spot the invisible gnome’. You know, before he dies on us.”

“Oh no. What a loss that would be. Such a young, useful bear, too.”

“How scrambled did your brains get? I meant you, you dick.”

Her peeved expression eases just as quickly as the smugness hardened into a glare, and she smiles at Pike before straightening up and striding off toward the others. Her perfect hips swing subtly as she walks, in an unassuming way Scanlan knows from experience requires a lot of work. He’d find her so hot if she wasn’t so scary.

(Well, he does find her extremely hot, if only because she could break him with either a gesture or a word, but despite popular belief Scanlan Shorthalt isn’t that reckless. Even he can weigh the pros and cons occasionally before deciding that diving in headfirst isn’t a good idea.)

There’s a snort on his right, and his whole world is Pike again.

“I really don’t get your little war on Trinket,” she says, but there’s a twinkle in her eyes.

“When he starts landing actual hits on whatever we’re fighting or even just holding his own more than two minutes, I might reconsider. Right now he’s just a glorified pack mule.”

“He’s plenty useful. He gives the best massages, for one thing. And he’s a good boy.”

I can be a good boy, Scanlan almost retorts, but refrains at the last minute. The lie is too big to work, even as a joke, and he doesn’t like the sliver of truth behind it, like the glint of a blade. So he settles for a fake disgruntled huff and a grin.

Nothing falls off as he picks himself up with Pike’s help, so that’s good news. He just has to suppress a shiver at the congealed blood, now gone cold, that makes the top of his shirt stick to his back. His ponytail is a mess, a clump of matted hair half glued to his neck. Ugh, he hates having to wash blood out of his hair.

His usual armour is back on, though. Pike doesn’t seem to notice the shiver; the look of slight worry she gives him has a general fight-almost-gone-very-bad flavour of ‘are you okay’ to it.

“I am glad you didn’t get scrambled,” she says in a rare mix of bluntness and thoughtfulness that’s uniquely Pike. “You know, for good. I mean, you looked pretty bad there for a moment.”

“Aw, Pikey-pants,” Scanlan says in a singsong voice, “don’t tell me you were worried.”

Pike gives a half shrug, which he feels because she’s thrown one of his arms over her shoulders and is supporting some of his weight.

“Oh well, you know,” she says in an offhand voice, a little high-pitched, “a little? You’re never silent this long, and then Grog and I couldn’t find you, and then Keyleth said she heard the giant hit something with his club, and then—”

“Well, you don’t need to worry about me, okay? Never worry about me.” He smiles, big and toothy, to counter the frown she gets sometimes when he says things like that. “I mean, there’s really no need. I’m awesome! I’m Burt Reynolds!”

This at least gets a smile with the hint of a smirk. Still sweet, though, because Pike could make (and has made) even the bluntest blow feel sweet.

“Esquire.”

Scanlan nods carefully, mock-serious. “Right, right, ‘Esquire’.”

“Shouldn’t forget that bit.”

“No, I should not.”

She smiles at him, sharp but warm, and there it is again – the sudden urge to say something stupid, make a joke, deflect, like raised hackles, because what if she gets the true measure of him? (‘And doesn’t like what she sees’ goes without saying. There’s a reason Scanlan spent the last couple of decades carefully building himself up.)

Being a charismatic bastard means sometimes you can afford to coast on charm alone. He grins and changes the subject, as swift and dextrous as a knife in Vax’s hand, and that’s it. Matters closed.

Honestly, he’d have to be a lot more scrambled than that for it not to work.

“No, Grog, there’s already a troll dick in the bag of holding, we’re not keeping a giant dick as well!”

…Plus there’s always the next distraction. That works, too.

—

(until it doesn’t, but he doesn’t know that yet!)

I started writing this on a whim and then couldn’t decide who I wanted to find Scanlan between Vex, Vax and Pike – so I decided to sort it out with a d20, set the DC at 20 (“hard”, because he’s invisible) and roll a perception check for each member of VM using their proficiencies at level 10 (the earliest character sheets of theirs Critrolestats have). Both Pike and Grog rolled a natural 1 :’( Keyleth and Percy got a 9, and even with +10 and +7 respectively for perception they failed the check; Vax got 26 (rolled a 16 with +10 perception) and then Vex got the same number but by rolling a nat 20! Plus her passive perception is 22, so that makes sense. And she was top of my list anyway, so ^^

(I spun the whump wheel a couple of times, thinking I’d get a good handful of prompts for some short snippets (like <1k words) and then happened on “concussion” and. Well. Someone clearly had a lot of thoughts about that one...)

#critical role #vox machina #scanlan shorthalt #vex'ahlia #pike trickfoot #pikelan #(sorta)#critter genfic bingo #fanfiction

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