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serasfanfiction · 1 month

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Part 1 | Part 2| Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

The attacks did not stop at the one.

After the third attack, Lucifer decided it was time to take a more proactive approach. Knowing that Alastor, the infamous Radio Demon, was at the Hotel and more than willing to literally eat their attackers alive wasn't serving as enough of a deterrent.

It looked like they were going to need a bigger reminder about who all resided in the hotel.

Unfortunately, they didn't know who was behind the attacks. Lucifer had snagged someone during each of the attacks, and each time, the story was the same: the group had received a call to go roughen up the residents of the hotel, but no names were ever given.

It was smart. Annoying, but smart.

Frustrated, Lucifer tossed the last of this round of goons to Alastor (and if the action mimicked tossing a dog a treat, well, no one had called him on it, yet). The redhead hummed in pleasure at his work, the sound somehow soothing rather than grating through his radio filter.

The King of Hell watched him, considering. Their opponent knew Alastor was here. Was wary enough of him not to give them any names. The skill levels of the goons were getting better, but they were still no match, really, for either of them.

The only one he truly knew to any capacity was Alastor, and he doubted the redhead was behind this. Alastor wasn't about to undermine the hotel he was so very obviously invested in, even if it was only for his own 'entertainment.'

It was most likely it was another one of those Overlords. Lucifer had only met a couple of them. Hadn't really paid attention to the politics since the system was just starting to get off the ground. He knew Carmilla Carmine for all that he hadn't seen her in nearly two decades. Their connection had been deliberately buried until only Carmilla, Lilith, and himself knew about it anymore.

He had met Zestial, only the once, but that had been back when the spider Overlord was young and new to his position. That must have been... three or four hundred years ago?

Which meant that enlisting Alastor's help was his best bet, something he absolutely did not want to do. Lucifer had managed to avoid anything more than a gentleman's agreement the last time they'd done anything transactional because Alastor had wanted his chance at a pound of flesh more than he wanted to escalate the tensions between them.

Asking for his help with an investigation, something that was going to take potentially a large amount of time and energy, was going to be costly.

Lucifer grimaced. At this stage, he was going to have to try it keep any transactions as one-off as possible. One time deals with a clear give and take. No loop holes or vague details.

Alastor, who had returned back to his usual form, watched him, having picked up on the change in mood. He appeared to be in a good mood, having just had a rather large meal and all.

Well, no better time to do this.

Lucifer lightly touched down in front him, just out of arm's reach. The distance seemed to amuse the deer demon, further adding to the hypothesis that he was closer to an agreeable mood than usual.

"May I speak with you. In private?" Lucifer grit his teeth, but forced out a polite, "Please?"

Alastor considered him. "I assume it's about this latest round of nonsense?"

"Yes, but." Lucifer glanced behind him. Charlie and the rest of the residents were watching them from the doorway, always ready to step in if needed. He turned back to the redhead. "I would prefer to have this discussion in private. If you feel better with it, we can discuss it in your room."

It was probably a little telling, giving up the familiar ground again, but he felt it was still the most likely place to keep Alastor agreeable.

Alastor hummed, placing his hands behind his back as he began the short walk back to the hotel. Lucifer came up to walk beside him, keeping his distance but forced to stay a little closer for the sake of privacy.

The redhead's smile was knowing, aware of what he was doing. "Very well, your Magesty. Perhaps after we send everyone back on their way?"

It was a subtle way of asking how public Lucifer wanted anyone to know about their meeting. "Later tonight, after everyone has gone to bed."

People were likely going to see them working together at some point, but he'd rather postpone that mess as long as possible.

Alastor's smile took on a hint of teeth, eyes half lidded with the promise of seeing something amusing. "I look forward to our chat, then."

Oh, Lucifer bet he did.

Lucifer put it out of his mind, surrendering himself to Charlie's inspection. The wound to his hand was long gone and not even a concern any more, but it seemed his daughter was still shaken by the fact that her father was just as vulnerable to Angelic Steel as her girlfriend was.

He spent the majority of the rest of the day in her company, something that had brought her comfort after the last fight, only escaping her clutches when she and Vaggie decided to call it a night.

"Night, Dad! Remember to take it easy tonight," she called over to him as she headed out.

Lucifer and Vaggie shared a look. The latter, taking pity on the former, took hold of Charlie's arms and began leading her away. "Yes, yes, he got the message. You're smothering him."

Lucifer heard his daughter gasp and he caught a glimpse of a fretting expression on her face before she was led around the corner. "He needs fretting!" he thought he heard her exclaim before she was too far out of earshot.

The blond knew he had a dopey smile on his face, but he was just so happy to get to spend as much time with her as he had been getting lately. He just wanted to soak it all up before she got tired of him and no longer needed him anymore.

"You need anything else, sir?"

Lucifer twisted around to face the bar, remembering the drink in his hand. He'd felt like something non-alcoholic tonight (he needed all of his wits to survive tonight), and since a wider variety of drinks had been added to the menu, he'd thought he'd indulge. "Nah, but thanks, Husk. Don't stay up on my account. I'll clean my glass before I leave."

The winged cat grunted. He finished up the final glass he'd been cleaning, placing it with the others. "Don't have to tell me twice. Night, sir."

Lucifer waved him off. They really did need to work on the 'sir' part, but Husk was as stubborn as the rest of them.

The hotel began to settle as one hour passed, then the next. When he could no longer hear and movement, he downed the rest of his drink. It didn't taste as good at room temperature, but there was no need to waste it. A little twirl of his finger and a touch of magic, the glass was as good as new.

He placed the glass in its designated spot behind the counter. He took a deep, steading breathe, resisting the urge to put this off. Better to get it over with.

Red smoke swirled around him as he transported him straight out of the lobby and up to Alastor's room. He didn't want to take any chances that someone would see him coming and going. He reappeared as close to the entrance of the room as he could, as to not impolite intrude more than he already was. Normally, he wouldn't care, but, again. Playing nice.

He looked around until he spotted his quarry over by the fireplace, still fully dressed as normal and sipping who knew what.

"Ah, sire, I was beginning to wonder if you'd keep me waiting." Alastor gestured to the small table set out between his chair and a second chair to entertain guests. "You'll have to forgive me. Your tea has likely gone cold, but I expected you an hour ago." His smile wasn't sorry in the least.

Well, so much for being in an agreeable mood.

Lucifer crossed the room to the vacant chair. He dropped into it, ignoring the drink. He wouldn't have accepted anything from the cannibal at this stage in their acquaintance anyway. "I'd like some information on the current Overlords."

Alastor placed his cup on the saucer resting on his lap. "Ah! Straight to business. Good, man." The redhead looked his guest up and down. "And what have you to offer in exchange for this information?"

Lucifer settled into his seat, crossing one leg over the other, as he lounged to the side. His elbow came to rest on the arm rest. "You tell me what you want and I'll tell you if I'm willing to pay it."

Alastor's eyes took on a golden glow, pupils morphing into dials. "You'll uphold the bargain, even if I don't have all the information you want?"

He hated to do it, but, "Yes."

The deer demon leaned forward. "This will be a binding deal, not an agreement."

Just as he thought. The blond responded, again, "Yes."

Alastor's body language shifted. Something sinister, never quite buried and never hidden well rising to the surface. Lucifer could almost see him considering his options, weighing each one in turn.

Finally, he settled on, "Your blood, taken at a time of my choosing."

Lucifer didn't wince, although he wanted to. He sighed, nodding. "One time. No ongoing feedings. We don't do it in public. If I need anything else from you after this, we can negotiate any terms at that time."

Alastor placed his cup and saucer on the table. "Also, you take on that delightful deer form of yours, and I get to feed until I'm full. No retaliation."

Lucifer narrowed his eyes at him, noting the word 'full.' "Can you actually get full? I know you're not a real windigo, but I can see the influences."

A red tipped claw waved the concern off. "Despite all appearances to the contrary, I am not a 'bottomless pit.'" Alastor did not actually use finger quotes around the phrase, which he seemed to find distasteful, but Lucifer heard them anyway. Someone had used this phrase against him in the past. "It simply takes a rather large meal to sate my appetite."

His grin widened with anticipation and a touch of excitement. "Whatever you seraphim are made of, your blood was exceptionally potent! I was very nearly full off of it all by itself."

Lucifer shuddered, even as he matched Alastor's grin with near manic one of his own. He certainly hoped it would be. Fallen or not, he was still one of his father's most powerful creations. "Your terms are acceptable."

Alastor held out his hand, the shadows that made up his magic unnaturally darkening the room. The stitches along his coat and smile cast a sickly green glow across his person. "I take it we have a deal?"

Lucifer felt his true form come over him. He didn't allow himself to hesitate. He reached out and took the Radio Demon's hand.

"Deal."

Shadows lit by green symbols spread out across the room and down into the hotel. The foundation creeked with the power of the binding being cast around the deal makers. If this had been the original building, it would have crumbled.

(Down in their rooms, the other residents shifted uneasily in their sleep. Husk, the only one still awake, stared at the ceiling in grim trepidation as evidence of his master's newest deal lit up his room.)

The magic faded away as they drew their hands away. Lucifer could feel the weight of the chain settle around his neck. Could see the other end of it wrapping around Alastor's hands, laying in wait for him to call in it.

It was not the most pleased he'd ever seen the Radio Demon, but it was close.

Alastor, sometimes capable of pretending to be meciful, let the chain disappear. He picked back up his drink, prompting, "You had some questions, your Majesty?"

Lucifer pressed his lips together briefly. He hated the way Alastor said his title on a good day. Knew he did it just to annoy him. Usually, he let it slide. Perhaps it was the new weight around his throat and the delight in every line of Alastor's body that made it grate this time.

He forced himself to relax.

"Tell me about the current Overlords. The territories they hold. What alliances they have."

Alastor leaned back in his own seat, making himself comfortable. "Well, if we're going to talk about anyone, we must start the esteemed, Zestial..." The radio host indeed proved to be knowledgeable in this area, providing concise and easy to follow information whenever Lucifer asked for clarification.

For instance: "Carmilla Carmine?" Lucifer had had ample practice with pretending he had never the Overlord. There was nothing in his tone to give it away. "She was the one that provided the weapons Angel and the others used, yes?"

"Yes." Alastor tilted his head to the side. "I must admit, I'm a little surprised you're not more concerned about how much Angel Steel there is laying around. It might be expensive, but it's certainly everywhere. Isn't it a danger to you and your daughter?"

It was only the fact that there wasn't any audible malice to the question, just the sense that the redhead was poking to see if Lucifer would be willing to share the information, that held his knee jerk response in check. This was, indeed, a Q&A for Lucifer to question and Alastor to answer. There was little reason to give anything away in this instance.

Ultimately, the blond settled on letting him have this, as the redhead had already seen him bleed.

Lucifer held up the hand that had been impaled. Alastor's eyes followed the movement, focusing in on the line of slightly lighter grey that was all that remained of the wound. It was darker than it had been just yesterday and would be darker still tomorrow. "Angelic Steel holds little threat to me or to Charlie." It might have, had she been a Nephilim born of the union between an ordinary angel and human, but as one born of a seraphim and the first woman? Not a chance. "It can hurt us, but it's little more of an inconvenience."

Now, if someone where to get their hands on Charlie's trident and attack her with it? Well. No one needed to know that.

Alastor made that humming noise he made when he was digesting a new tidbit of information. He picked up his narrative, going on to explain the alliance between himself and various other Overlords. From the way he spoke of her, Lucifer got the impression that Alastor actually liked this 'Rosie' character, while he just as clearly did not like the Vees, which was apparently the handle for a group of three separate Overlords.

He didn't realize he knew more Overlord names than he thought he did, until he recognized another name. "Valentino. He's the one that Angel has a contract with?"

Alastor nodded. "Yes. To my understanding, Valentino owns Angel's soul, but can only exert any control over him while in the studio. Seems a silly little loop hole, if you ask me."

The nonchalance, the so little care for Angel's clear suffering was a stark reminder that Alastor himself was an Overlord with his own souls. Lucifer frowned at him, a little of his contempt bleeding into his tone, as he accused, "A loop hole I'm sure you'd never allow your own souls, hm?"

Alastor laughed. "Ha ha! Oh no! Not at all. Any soul I own, it's total and complete." He smirked back in the face of Lucifer's disgust. "But I mostly deal with favors, more so than souls. I like to do little things for others, and later, at a time of my choosing, they do something for me." His expression grew thoughtful. "Why, cashing in a few of my favors is how I got that silly little advertisement for the hotel on the air. I'm sure you've gotten around to seeing it by now, yes?"

Lucifer felt his irritation simmering below the surface. Only allowed the sharpening of the claws he wanted to use to wipe that smug little grin off Alastor's face be the only indication of it. He pushed the conversation on, instead of letting the sinner have the point. "And do you hold territory?"

The Radio Demon held up his hands to bring attention the room as a whole. "Oh, nothing like that. My tower is more than enough, although I do get a bit possessive with the hotel itself, since I've invested so much time and energy into it." He pointed to the radio on the shelf behind him. "I don't really need more when I can reach anywhere with a radio on hand. My favors owed do a great deal of the work of covering any gaps in my coverage."

Lucifer remembered him mentioning he had a talk show. Now that it was brought up, he recalled seeing several of the old fashioned radios around the hotel. Charlie had one in her room and there was one in the main foyer. He had been thinking of adding one into his room, but hadn't gotten around to it.

Suddenly, he wasn't so sure that was a great idea. Perhaps he could sneak out the one in Charlie's room the next time he was in there?

He gestured for the other to continue. When Alastor finished, Lucifer took a moment to chew on the information he had been given. It was a good start, better than where he was at the beginning of the day. But it didn't really narrow anything down.

"Do you know of anyone in particular who might feel threatened by what the hotel is trying to accomplish?"

Alastor laughed, finding the question a bit absurd. "Any of us might find it threatening, my dear king. Our deals and our reputations are our most powerful tools. The possibility that souls can be redeemed means that those deals might be broken which threatens our power."

Lucifer supposed it was too easy, if there had been an simple response to that question. Alastor surprised him, though, when he added, "Really, I don't know why anyone is worried about the hotel, when supposedly you're a bigger threat yourself."

The blond frowned, attention sharpening. "What? Me? What do I have to do with any of that?"

Alastor's posture was as languid as it had been since he had settled in. Nothing on the surface seemed to have changed, but Lucifer could feel the weight of his gaze as he explained, "Oh, you know. That silly legend that's been hanging around."

Lucifer blinked at him, baffled. "What legend?"

"The one that says you can break deals."

Unbidden, a memory rose to the surface. Of himself standing above a sinner kneeling at the base of his throne. The sound of the shattering of their chain and the tinkling sound as the links hit the floor - once, twice - and then vanished. It had been the last time he'd ever interfered in the drama between sinners. Lucifer blinked, the memory vanishing like smoke.

He almost dismissed it. Almost let the truth die and remain a myth. Something about the way Alastor was watching him held him back. Whispered: this is important.

Telegraphing the movement, the Devil raised his free hand. Seeing he had the Radio Demon's full attention, he flicked the chain that represented their Deal, putting a little power into it to force the chain to materialize.

Alastor jolted, spine straightening and ears standing on end, half looking like he had received an electric shock.

Lucifer lowered his hand, letting the chain disappear. "I can't break deals I've made, if that's what you're worried about."

The redhead rolled the wrist his end of the chain was wrapped around, trying to work some feeling back into the suddenly numb limb. He still looked amused, but only by the skin of his teeth. "Come now, it's like you think I was accusing you of being dishonorable!" He visibly pulled his undaunted mask back into place. "I was merely asking if you could break other people's deals!"

Uh huh. Sure he was.

Still. With the same level of casualness, Lucifer straightened from his slouch. Dominant hand freed, he used it to reach out and pluck a different chain right out of thin air.

Alastor's eyes widened fully from the normal half-lidded state. One side of the chain was wrapped around the redhead's wrist, showing him the owner of the Deal. The other side trailed off under the door and out of the room.

If one were to follow it to its other end, they would have found themselves standing outside of Husk's door.

Lucifer watched Alastor, the latter's eyes glued to the former's grip on the chain. Anticipation was evident in Alastor's expression, but it was a little harder to parse out the other emotion in there.

Hope.

But hope of what?

Lucifer tightened his grip, testing the strength (Alastor's strength) of the Deal. The links creaked and groaned under his own power and he found that it would be easy to break them.

Instead of breaking them, however, he released the chain instead.

Alastor's left ear twitched, expression growing rigid, as if he had forgotten he was being watched. Something related to disappointment, but not quite, crossed it before curiosity took it's place. "You didn't break it?"

"Husk is an adult and he made his own choices. Contrary to popular belief, I do appreciate consequences." Perhaps Lucifer would be willing to change his stance on the subject in the future - he was growing attached to the members of the hotel, besides Charlie and Vaggie, by default. He certainly would if Charlie ever asked him to. "Besides, I'm not in the market to make anymore of an enemy out of you tonight than you already are."

There was that familiar amusement again. "Oh? Does that mean I'm growing on you, sire?"

Lucifer shuddered, waving the idea away like the smell of it was something foul and putrid, which only seemed to amuse Alastor some more. "Er, no. Absolutely not. Father, you're so lucky Charlie likes you."

"Indeed." Alastor looked to the clock on top of his fireplace, which drew Lucifer's attention to it.

Egad, Lucifer thought to himself as he saw the time, when did it get so late?

"Did you have any other questions for me, sire?"

Lucifer was both closer to his goal and yet further away from it than when they started. It did indeed seem like an Overlord was responsible for the attacks, but it was unlikely that this line of inquiry would bear any more fruit.

He sighed. He didn't like what he was about to do, but it had to be done anyway. "No, I don't have any future questions at this time."

Both sides felt the redhead's side of the Deal closing, Alastor's end fulfilled. His hands flexed around the feel of the chain and then settled. Perfectly polite, he said, "Splendid! Fancy doing business with you. You don't mind if we call this a night, then?"

Lucifer didn't want to poke that bear, but he couldn't help but ask: "You're not going to cash in your deal tonight?"

The Radio Demon looked at him, knowing he was really asking it so that they could get it over with as soon as possible. "Nonsense! I've already eaten a hardy meal today." Alastor grinned from ear to ear, looking for all the world like he was talking about a 5 Star restaurant's menu and not about drinking someone's blood straight from the source. "I'd much rather reserve this meal to a time I could enjoy it to the fullest."

Lucifer grimaced. Cannibals. Either way, the desire to not have those teeth in this neck tonight won over the need to get this over with and he decided that he was not, in fact, going to look that gift horse in the mouth that night. "Whelp, good talk!" The little king sprung to his feet. To avoid turning his back on the creature that literally had license to take a bite out of him, he decided he was just going to portal out. "Uh, let me know when you want to, uh, do the thing."

As he portalled out, he heard Alastor drawl, tone heavy with dark promise, "I most certainly will."

tbc

Part 6

#radioapple #alastor #lucifer morningstar #deer lucifer fic #deer lucifer who is not actually appearing in this chapter #he will be back in the next part #along with some dancing?#the muses think there will be dancing #i don't know how far this plot will go #i might just resolve it off screen after its served its purpose #we'll see #i liked the idea that lucifer could break deals other than his own #so i decided to incorporate it #it'll be of use later #:)

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ronearoundblindly · 2 months

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Steve Rogers, number 4, a kiss where it hurts (imagine him making it stop hurting) xxx

*no pairing listed but could work in Fools Rush In, It Had To Be You, Autumn Is Healing, Threadbare, or as a stand alone. While those series do specify female readers, this is written gender neutral. He calls you 'sweetheart' one time.

A Dark Day and A Bright Night, one of my Valentine's Fics of 2024

Warning only for description of a bad mental health time. (I know not everyone experiences this in the same way, but I tried to cover the gist and focus on Steve's comfort of you.) Otherwise, just sweet, caring fluff! WC 1781

There are invisible barriers everywhere, and they stop no one but you.

No one else can hear the muddled whispers of what else you could have done, what more you should have accomplished, how disappointing it is that anything took so long.

You can’t do any better. You can’t go any farther. There’s a line in the sand no one can see. Sometimes, no one can see you.

Nothing matches up. Work fast-forwards around you in chaos while you slog through, treading water with all the energy of someone who has been out at sea alone for days and days. You grow so tired.

There are moments you power through, mind racing to gain lost ground on an endless, looped track. You grow so tired, and it’s never just one thing. It’s water and sand and nothing all at once, vast forces beyond your control.

What else? What more? Why so long?

There are barriers no one else can see, and it’s not their fault because it doesn’t match up. We move through life at different paces. We experience different struggles. We are stopped by different forces.

“How was work?” Steve asks, a chipper smile on his face as he places dinner in front of you.

“Fine.” There are no other words.

“Really? Seems the project is right on schedule, thanks to you.”

You see him pause before he takes his first bite, and rush to pick up your fork, knowing it’s best to participate, knowing the barriers may be invisible but effort is not.

He eats his mouthful, and you stare.

Dinner isn’t a line in the sand, but it feels like one, another interaction you’ll be disappointing in, another fear you can’t explain.

“Not my best work, but it got done,” you manage, mechanically feeding yourself, showing the effort, making a show of the effort. “How was your day?”

It’s a flat question. The response is muddled by water and wind and doubt.

Why can’t you focus? Why can’t you do better for him? Why does he stay?

Steve can’t see any of it. He can’t get to you because there’s no one place you’re trapped in.

You do the dishes. You watch TV. You start your bedtime ritual, and you’ve participated as little—and as much—as possible because treading water is lonely. You grow so tired.

Tomorrow could be better. You can do better tomorrow. It’ll take effort.

Tomorrow you’ll work harder and you’ll be less afraid. But that’s what you thought the last time you were stuck. That’s what you think each time you find a line in the sand.

You stare at your reflection, still treading, still scared, still misaligned.

“Did you hear me?” Steve loosely holds you with his palm on your hip. Standing behind you, face sullen in the mirror, he asks where you’re hurting.

To Steve, there has to be a solution. Each mission must have a goal.

You spit, rinse, and put your toothbrush in the holder.

“Just tired.” That’s the sand he cannot see.

“Seems like more than ‘just tired,’” he huffs, unsatisfied, and turns you toward him. “Tell me.”

“It’s nothing you can help with.” That’s the water he cannot navigate.

You’re on your own.

He smirks humorlessly. “That’s never stopped me before.”

But you don’t have the words. All that comes out is “my head.”

“Headache?” He reaches for the medicine cabinet. “You need some—“

You shake your physically fine skull. “No. It’s not a headache.”

Steve’s face…changes in a way you’ve never seen before. You expected confusion, perhaps pity, but this is something all-together reminiscent. His eyes dart around the bathroom like he’s taking inventory, and for the first time today you aren’t the most distracted person in the room.

Then he returns to you.

“I think I’d like a nice bath. Will you join me?”

He sets it all up, using the best smelling bubbles, setting out the softest towels, and inviting you back into the little spa he created by handing you a lovely chocolate.

When you try to refuse because you’ve already brushed your teeth, he replies, “live dangerously,” and pops a bonbon for himself.

Hopefully, it is dark enough for Steve to miss the tears in your eyes.

He lets you settle in the water against him, playing by splashing warmth over the parts not submerged. He kisses your shoulders and neck, the back of your head. Steve keeps himself attached by the lips, breathing you in but feeling so far away. Your mind wanders to nowhere, thinking nothing.

“Feels good—I mean, bett—feels okay, yeah?”

He suds up his hands and washes a bit of you, but your muscles are tight and curled.

You’re tucked into yourself, small as can be.

“Can you try to relax for me, sweetheart? Can you let yourself float?”

The tub works for a guy Steve’s size. There’s a little space but not enough to stretch out completely.

The tension in your body is slow to release. You manage to let your arms, knees, and feet peak through the bubble clouds.

Steve nudges, “and your neck?”

You didn’t realize you were holding it up.

There is infinite space to lay flat in your endless sea. Floating offers a respite, a view of the sky, the same sky blanketing your beach.

Invisible barriers at least spare the scenery.

You and Steve watch the fragrant foam burst for a while. It takes you much longer to truly relax back into Steve. The quiet of the bath drowns you with the noise in your head.

What else? What more? Why so slow?

It’s never just one thing. It is all things, all at once, and nothing at all. All of the elements to survival and understanding are there if you just focus your attention, if you just put in the effort, but you are so tired.

Steve wraps you in his arms to press you deeper into his chest.

“Sometimes my ma would burn dinner,” he starts quietly, voice rough from holding back all his questions you can’t answer, “and we would scramble around, combing the cupboards. We’d make the oddest meals out of bits and bobs. Maybe half of it, we should’a never touched, but we did what we had to. Ya know what? Those were some of the best times. We did the best we could with what we had—sometimes less—and that’s what made her so amazing. On what she probably considered her worst days,” Steve kisses behind your ear, “I admired her the most. Formed some of the best memories.”

“Let me guess. Because she smiled the whole way through?”

“Nah,” he muses, chuckling enough to shake you in the water, “she threw a pan once. Loosened the door of the stove she slammed it shut so hard. She cried usually until we were sat down eating. Always tried to give me the most food because I was so small…

“I made it a game. I only took a bite if she did. Win-win.”

He stays quiet for a beat, assured you’re hearing him.

“You’re not ruining anything by crying,” he says solidly, almost loud in the confines of the bathroom. “Good things can still happen. You still did good today.”

He continues. He details little things he admires about you; how hard you work for yourself, for him, he notices all that. He wants you to see what he sees.

There’s no barrier stopping him.

The water turns tepid, and Steve gets out first to ready a towel for you. There’s a difference between him treating you like a china doll and his doll. His doll is not breakable. He isn’t gentle because you are fragile; he does it to preserve you for the next day, and the next. Steve refuses to place any more burden on you than already falls.

He’s right there, strong, noble, and determined with forces working against him.

He’s scared and he doesn’t understand. He can’t fight. He has to scramble to catch up, to change plans, to make a meal out of nothing, to turn nothing into something. He doesn’t understand why he’s in a different sea, or why he can’t get to you standing on the same damn beach. His hand is right there on the barrier, but his shouts are muddled.

It’s not fair, and it never will be.

He physically lifts you up, wrapped in a plush bath sheet, his hug strong enough to thump against that clear wall that springs from your line in the sand.

That’s when you realize the barrier isn’t impenetrable. You can still see the scenery. You can still hear muddled sounds.

Some of his voice gets through. Sunlight and warmth get through. The water still buoys you up.

If there are directions to go, there are paths to take.

If there are ways in, there are ways out.

There are invisible barriers everywhere, but they don’t stop Steve from being there for you.

One more chocolate. One more brush of your teeth. You trade the fluffy wrap of a towel with the cozy wrap of a t-shirt, and he makes sure you’re comfortable.

A simple goodnight kiss alone might tip you over into exhausted euphoria, but Steve is not that kind of simple.

He props himself up on an elbow and rolls you onto your back.

Kissing your right temple, he whispers, “I love you.” Kissing your left temple, he confesses, “I love your voice,” the peak of your forehead, “I love your spirit,” between your eyebrows, just above one ear, and the other.

��Miss you when I’m not here. Miss you when you’re not here. I miss you even in my dreams.”

Then, and only then, do you get that simple kiss goodnight. His soft lips melding to yours for a long, soothing moment before you two drift off to sleep.

When you dream of a beach and an ocean and nothing at all, you miss him, too. You remember his presence, and the truth becomes as clear as the sky above.

There are pieces of you to love. You are a loved thing. You are light and heat and sound that can get through, even when misaligned, even when you don’t match up, even when not in the same sea.

Steve’s love is invisible, but you know it’s there. It’s not a limit to fear. It’s not a barrier to turn away from. His love is not an obstacle you want to get past.

Not every invisible force is bad.

Sometimes, barriers slow you down, let you listen, make you rest, and help you float.

There are barriers everywhere, but nothing between you and Steve.

Ransom Drysdale and a kiss out of spite ⬅️ ➡️ Ari Levinson and a kiss out of envy

A/N: oof. *walks away crying* I'm fine. It's fine.

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @spectre-posts @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp @im-a-slut-for-fluff @fangirl-swagg @georgeweaslysgirl @austynparksandpizza @claireelizabeth85 @jamneuromain @shelbygeek @rogersideup @eyebagsanonymous @trudy-shams @saranghaey @awkwardgiraffe726 @rach2602 @royalwritersoftheuniverses @rogersbarber

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lou-struck · 4 months

Text

Locked Out

Eijirou Kirishima x reader

25 Days of Ficmas Day 8

W.C: 1.7k

Warnings: Reader accidently gets locked out in below freezing temps. Kiri feels bad, symptoms of being cold.

~After you were accidently locked out of the house in a snowstorm, your boyfriend tries to warm you up.

For as long as you have known him, Eijirou Kirishima's love language has been Acts of Service. This man just loves to do little things for you that you don't like doing for yourself. Whether it's moving your laundry into the dryer on busy mornings or watering your houseplants, Kiri will jump at the chance to help you out and make your life a bit easier.

At first, you weren't used to having someone there who wanted to help you, but now it is safe to say you are just a bit spoiled from the Pro Hero's doting behavior.

After a long day's work, you came home to darkened skies and your boyfriend shoveling the snow from your driveway- another necessary task that you really didn't want to do. A tall pile of snow rests in the grass, and you see the wet, salt-covered asphalt of your driveway for the first time in days.

You can hardly contain your joy as you turn off your car and run into the Red-headed hero's arms. You press your face into the plush of his padded winter jacket. The surface is cold and silky on your cheeks as he squeezes you tightly. The well-loved shovel clatters onto the ground with a scraping sound, but neither of you really seems to care.

"Did someone order a snow plow service?" he asks, his condensation filling the air as he pants softly from the exertion.

"Eijirou," you pout, tilting your head to take in his rosy cheeks and snowflake-covered lashes. "You texted me this morning that you picked up a patrol today. Did you really do all of this yourself to surprise me?"

He laughs and looks down at you with a big smile. "Course I did. You hate shoveling the driveway."

You would say something in your defense, but he is absolutely right. "Well thank you. Let's go inside and get you something to eat. You must be starving."

His stomach growls at the very mention of food, and he laughs merrily. "You know me too well. Let's eat."

It's amazing to see what a difference an hour inside and a simple meal can do to warm your spirits.

Your plates have been cleared, and you and Eirjioru have settled into your usual routine of washing and drying the dishes together. Kiri washes the dishes and hands them over to you to dry and put away.

He lost drying privileges after breaking one too many coffee cups, so this delicate task is all on you.

You place the last few glass plates into the cupboard, and you hear the water shut off.

"Is that it?" you ask as he unrolls his sleeves and steps away from the sink.

"It sure is, we have gotten good at this whole living together thing."

You laugh and loop your arms around his neck. "I think I like you around."

"You're not too bad yourself." he cheeses, his neck craning downwards to give you a long-awaited welcome home kiss. His slightly chapped lips meet yours tenderly and you feel at ease. Your shoulders slump, and the stress of the holidays seems to disappear momentarily.

He pulls away and says the most attractive sentence known to man.

"I'll take the recycling out, Baby."

You look over to the overflowing recycling bin in your corner. Crushed cans and boxes pile up past the counter top. He grabs the pile easily and shoves it into the bin, his skin hardens as he aids the process with his quirk.

As it shuts you realize that he may have missed a partially crushed can that fell off the overflowing pile and onto the floor when the bin used to sit. With a carefree shrug you crouch down to pick it up yourself and toss it into the bin outside.

As you do, so, you hear the creaky hinges of the back door fly open and the recycle bin frantically slamming onto the ground.

"Eiji?" you call with concern, "Is everything all right?"

"All good," he answers, his voice traveling down the hallway. "Just gotta take a pee."

You laugh as he steps into the bathroom and walk towards the door to take the can out yourself. A pair of fluffy slippers are by the door that you slip on quickly. You spot a few jackets on some hooks but decide to forgo the jacket since you'll only be out for a second.

AS soon as you step out the door your mostly bare feet land in a pile of snow. The cheap slippers do not protect your poor toes from the elements as you let out a yelp.

The night air hits you like a ton of bricks. Each step chills you more as you shiver and shake your way to the recycling bin and toss the can in.

Turning quickly, you run back to the house and reach for the metal door handle.

It doesn't budge.

Letting out an annoyed huff, you twist the knob again.

Still no movement

You push and pull and push some more as you come to a harrowing realization…

Eijirou Kirishima, your super sweet, heroic boyfriend. Has locked you outside in the cold.

You knock frantically on the door as your poor, underdressed body begins to cover itself in goosebumps. But no matter what you do, Eijirou doesn't seem to hear you.

Is he still in the bathroom?

What if he's doing a number 2?

You're running in place now trying to keep yourself warm. Your fuzzy slippers chilling your poor toes from the snow. You know that just waiting here is useless.

With a huff you begin to walk around to the front of the house so you can punch in the garage code and let yourself in that way. Halfway there, you turn, lose your footing, and fall into one of the many piles of snow on the lawn that Kiri had made from the snow on your driveway.

Now all of you is freezing.

You make it to the garage and try to punch in the code with shivering hands. But nothing happens. The panel dosent even light up.

The battery must be dead.

Shit.

You're so cold and miserable. Your wet jeans cling to your skin and begin to partially freeze against your legs. The new frost cracks slightly as you climb the front steps. Your lips tingle and you can hardly feel your face as you rapidly ring the doorbell with a trembling finger.

The dings and the dongs are so mashed together it creates a whole new sound. Your other hand bangs on the door and every bit of you begs to be let inside.

The door swings open in a flash, and Eijirou looks at you with a mix of shock and surprise in his features. You were only outside for about eight minutes or so, but to him, it seemed like a lifetime.

He takes in your frozen, unredressed appearance and you see his heart sink. "Oh my god, did I lock you out?"

"Y-yeah." you shiver as he pulls you inside. You filing off your now ruined slippers and they hit the wall with a splat. "W-was c-cold."

"I'm so sorry," he sputters. "After I went to the bathroom, I realized it was more of a Number 2 thing, and I went to grab my phone to scroll. You know how that is." He feels himself going off-topic and brings himself back to the issue. "Anyways, I saw the door wasn't locked, so I locked it on my way back in."

You know he is beating himself up over this, but if you weren't so damn cold you would laugh about this.

"If I knew you were out there I never would've locked you out in the cold."

"It's okay." you shiver as he leads you into the house to warm you up. He leaves you by the heating vent as he runs around like a chicken with his head cut off, frantically grabbing you new clothes, helping you out of your wet ones, and tossing them in the wash.

With you all dressed in clothes that are not covered in snow, he settles you on the couch. You try to keep your shivers to yourself but it takes more than new dry clothes to warm you up.

Your body betrays you, and your heart feels like a guilt-impacted stress ball every time you see the weariness on your ball of sunshine features.

"Come sit," Kiri gently directs you to the couch and takes the plaid checkered blanket draped aesthetically over it's back and wraps it around you. He tucks you into the cushions in your upright position, "How does that feel?"

"Better," you mumbled. It may have not been a lie, but you certainly could get warmer.

His crimson gaze bores into you and he runs a hand through his long hair. He sighs and walks off. "You need more."

And more you get. Eijirou tosses every blanket in sight over you and you feel yourself becoming one with the leather seats.

You can't stop him, not when you see how guilty he looks for unintentionally putting you in this situation in the first place. But his efforts are working. The shivering ceases and the biting cold outside feels like a distant memory.

After you can't think you can hold the weight of any more blankets he comes back into the room. He looks over you carefully and finally meets your gaze. "Do you need anything else?"

Wordlessly, you wiggle your arms out from under the mountain of blankets and hold them out to him. Your eyes are half-lidded as the exhaustion for the day hits you. As a silent invitation for cuddles that he never wants to reject.

He blinks in surprise, "Are you sure you want me in there with you."

He is too good, "Eiji," you say firmly, yet lovingly, "if you don't get under here I swear I'll lock you outside myself."

Your good-humored threat works wonders. The tone in the room shifts and he smiles for the first time since dinner. "Then let me just dive right in." he chuckles, slipping under the mountain so you can cling to him like the koala bear you are.

Tagging: @enchantedforest-network

#my hero academia #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha eijiro kirishima #x reader #kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima eijirou #kirishima #mha kirishima

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fictional-love-is-my-life · 4 months

Note

Hi... I am so happy to see my request finally come true...

So here I am with another request and I have some particular theme in mind

Human optimus prime x reader. Optimus is an English teacher where the reader studies.

One day the reader finds a letter stuck in her book which she borrowed from the Library to find a beautiful poem (which optimus left accidentally). She decided to compliment that so she wrote something of her own...and returned it

And then she and that writer (optimus) started to talk anonymously through this type of letters eventually to find out about each and and confess falling for each in 2 line poem like

"roses are red,

voilet is blue

My heart beats so fast

When I think about u"

Fill the gap as u like...u can change it a bit as well

Thank you in advance if you are doing it

If not...it's fine also no biggie

Have a great day or night ❤️🩵💙

Hello hello! Thank you for this request and thank you for being so patient with me. I have finally finished it!

Human Optimus Prime English teacher x Female student Reader

This is set in a college, reader is at least 20+

~~~~~~

English has always been one of your favorite lessons. Something about it intrigued you, especially the poetry lessons. It may have helped that it was taught by your favorite teacher.

Mr. Prime stood at the front of the class, a poetry book in his hand. All eyes were on him as he spoke, talking about many of the techniques used by the author of said book.

The bell rang, indicating the end of class. Most of the class was happy and eager to leave. But the sound made you sad, you could have listened to Mr. Prime for another couple of hours. Yet you obeyed the bell since you had a few other classes to attend that day.

“Now, if anyone is interested in reading this, I do highly recommend it. You can find a copy in our own library here on campus.” Mr. Prime stated, then began saying his farewells to the students. You smiled at your favorite teacher, feeling a small burst of energy as he smiled back at you.

After finishing all your classes for the day, you headed to the library. It was late in the afternoon, making you doubt that the poetry book Mr. Prime suggested would still be there. But you thought you would check, just in case. To your surprise, it was still available. You reached out, grabbing the book. It was a little aged, the spine was worn and some of the pages were bent at the corner. That just meant it had been well-used and well-loved.

You checked out the book, tucking it away into your bag. You were going to look at it back in your dorm room, as you were starting to get hungry.

You grabbed food from the small café on campus, then headed to your dorm room. You were happy to have one of the rooms on the college grounds, it meant you never had to walk too far for anything whether it was classes or a quick meal.

Entering the small room, you tossed your bag and food onto the bed. You were done for the day, so you decided to change into more comfortable loungewear before climbing onto your bed. You pulled out your food, eating while you went through your bag.

You tugged the poetry book out, placing it in your lap and using one hand to open it. The moment the pages came loose, something fell out. It was a single piece of paper with writing on it. The handwriting was beautiful, neat, and well-written. It was a poem. You hummed in amusement, of course, it was a poem stuck inside a poetry book. It must have been left behind by the last person who checked the book out.

Curiosity got the best of you, so you began to read it.

You re-read the poem over and over at least 5 times. It was beautiful, soul-capturing, enlightening. The words stuck in your head on a constant loop. You knew it was just a random person's work, but the way the words were written, it felt as if it was a letter made just for you.

It was so inspiring that it made you want to write your own poem, in response to them.

You worked for hours, writing then scratching out the words and starting again. After going through at least ten pages of your notebook, you finally had something you felt was good enough. It wasn’t as good as the poem you just read, but it was still good.

A few days later you had finished the poetry book you took from the library. It was about time to return it. You picked it up, then spotted the poem that fell out of it sitting on your desk. Your own poem sat next to it. You wished you could find the author and tell them how much you loved their work, but you knew you’d never find out who wrote it.

Part of you wanted to keep the poem, but at the same time, you didn’t. It was so beautiful, that you felt it needed to be shared with the world. You grabbed a post-it, writing on it “This was beautiful”. Sticking the post-it on the mystery person's poem and put it back into the book. Your own poem caught your attention.

Before, you hadn’t been confident sharing your poems with other people. But the idea of sharing it with others anonymously didn’t seem so bad. You also thought it might be quite funny, giving the next person to check out the book two poems to read. You hoped someone would appreciate your work. You took another Post-it writing “Mine is not as good” and stuck it to your poem. You then placed it into the book behind the first.

You took the book back to the library, checked it back in, and placed it nicely onto the shelf. You felt happy and a little excited, you wondered who would get the book next and what they would think of it.

Once it was out of sight, you forgot about the poetry book. It only returned to your memory when you were in the library a couple of days later. Curious you made your way to the literary section; you dragged your finger across the books searching for it.

There it was, in the middle of the shelf. Its worn-out spine made your stomach flip in excitement. You wondered if there would be another addition to the poems, who it would be by, and what it would say. However, there was also the possibility that the poems would have been taken.

You picked up the book and opened its pages. The pages instantly opened themselves, revealing a single piece of paper. It was the same beautiful hand writing from the first poem, obviously from the same writer. Yet it was different. It was new!

You instantly started to read it, still standing in the middle of the library’s aisle. It started by quoting a line from your poem, then continued on its own, saying how much they loved your poem and how beautiful they thought it was. They wrote how they felt alone in their own poetic dreams, and that your words were like a song to their heart.

Your stomach fluttered as you read the poem, in complete disbelief that they liked your work. It made you ecstatic, your creative energy bursting. You had to respond and thank them for their words.

You rushed over to an empty table in the back of the library, pulling out your notebook. Scribbling away, you tried to put your emotions into words. You had to express how much their words meant to you. You finished the poem with a few lines about how much you enjoy poetry and how the act of writing poems gives you joy, like a fresh flower on a warm summer’s day. Once you were happy with your poem you tore out the page and stuck it into the poetry book.

This time you kept the mystery person's poem. Their words meant so much to you, so this time you were going to keep it to yourself. You gently put the poetry book back on the shelf and rushed out of the library. You thought about sticking around, waiting to see who would come to pick it up. But you also thought that might be quite creepy, so you just decided to leave.

That night you lay awake; your stomach filled with butterflies. You lay on your side, staring at your desk where the mystery person's poem sat. It’s words circling in your mind. You imagined who the author was, what they looked like, what they sounded like. You could hear their voice in your head as you read their words, and you wondered if they sounded the same in real life. You pondered if they were thinking about you as well.

The next morning you got up early. Even though you had barely slept you felt energized and excited. You rushed over to the library, getting to it before it even opened the doors. Tapping your foot impatiently you waited for the library staff to arrive. Eventually, they came, your heart pounding as they slowly unlocked the door, allowing you inside.

You rushed inside, beelining for the poetry section. You scanned over the shelves, then looked again. The book was gone. You felt a sting of disappointment, replaced a few seconds later by excitement. If it’s gone, it could mean the mystery person has it. Could they have already read your poem? Were they currently writing their own response? You couldn’t wait to find out.

Since the book was not there, you left the library and made your way to the food hall for breakfast.

Classes dragged by slowly, though it didn’t matter as you weren’t paying attention anyway. Your mind was on the mystery person, wondering what their next poem would say.

That same afternoon, you skipped over to the library, once more looking for the book. Yet again it was still gone. Obviously, they must be taking their time to return it. Either that or someone else took it.

You felt sadness and worry at the thought of someone else taking the book. It was your only way to communicate with the mysterious person and you couldn’t picture anyone else getting their hands or eyes on their poems. You sighed and left the library once more. You would just have to check the next day.

The following day, you had an early class, so you were unable to go straight to the library. You made your way after the second class, moving at a brisk pace.

You didn’t know if it was fate or just pure luck. But the book was there, waiting, calling your name. You grabbed it, instantly opening it to find a single page.

Your heart skipped. Giddy you took the book and checked it out. This had become something fun and special, so you were going to take the poem back to your room to read it. And once you had, you would take your time to create the most perfect reply.

You and the mystery author traded poetic letters for two weeks. Allowing each other at least a day to take the book home and write a response. They were constantly on your mind, their words and the possibilities of who they were. You were desperate to meet them, but you didn’t know how to initiate it or when, terrified you might scare them away by asking to meet.

Every other day you rushed to the library. Your face had become well known, and it became a little joke between the staff that you always took out the same book. You never minded though, any other time you would have thought it was also strange someone took out the same book every day. But you were too preoccupied with enjoying the situation. It was fun, exciting, and exhilarating to get secret poems from a mystery person.

You made your way to the library once more, waving to the library staff.

“Back again! No need to ask what for. You might as well just take it; we know you’ll bring it back.” An older lady laughed. You chuckled; she wasn’t wrong.

The book was there in the middle of the shelf. The paper on the spine was almost completely gone, showing how often it had been taken and handled over the past few weeks. You felt a bit bad for the poor old book. It had brought you so much happiness, so you decided to try being more delicate.

You gently took the book off the shelf and opened it.

Instead of the usual single page, there were two. One was the poem, and the other was a post it. You read the poem first.

"Roses are red,

Violets are blue

My heart beats fast

When I think about you"

Your stomach flipped. Heat spread across your face as a blush formed. They put into words exactly how you felt about them. You didn’t even know this person, but they had enraptured your heart entirely. You could feel the crush coming with each poem, but this just secured it. And by their poem, perhaps they had a crush on you as well.

Your mind swam with ideas of them, and their words that you almost forgot to read the post it. You finally remembered and looked at the small yellow paper.

“You are constantly on my mind, I must meet you if you would like to. I understand if you may not be ready. On Friday, at 5pm I will sit at the bench outside the library.”

Your heart pounds so hard in your chest that you thought it might explode. They wanted to meet you. You were excited, but also incredibly nervous. Were you ready? What if you went and they were disappointed? Or what if you were disappointed?

You shook the negative thoughts from your head. You had been thinking about meeting them for a while, now was your chance and you were not going to mess it up. You take the poem from the book, sticking it into your bag. From your own notebook, you tore out one page and wrote “I’ll be there”.

You stuck the torn page into the poem book and placed it back onto the shelf.

Friday came quicker than you were ready for. You sat in your English class, staring at the clock. Usually, your attention would have been solely on Mr. Prime. But today, you thought about 5pm and meeting the mystery poem author. Your heart raced with every second. You began to plan out your outfit in your head, mentally prepping what you would wear and how you would style your hair.

You were knocked out of your thoughts by your classmate and friend nudging you. You turned to her a little annoyed that she disturbed your train of thought.

“Does Mr. Prime seem different to you?” She asked.

For the first time in that period, you looked at your teacher. He had a huge smile on as he talked, his suit was neatly pressed and he had a flower in his pocket. He looked cute.

“I don’t know, he’s just happy.” You shrugged.

“Yeah but, different happy. Happier than we’ve ever seen him.”

“Is that a bad thing?” You asked.

“No.” Your friend muttered. “I was just saying…never mind.”

You immediately began daydreaming again, picturing how the meetup would go. You practiced what you would say and how you would act.

Soon the bell rang and you were able to rush out of the classroom. English had been your final lesson of the day, so you rushed back to your dorm room to try on all your clothes. You had to find the perfect attire for the meet and you only had a few hours to do so.

After going through half your closet, you finally found the perfect outfit. A cute and flowy dress, you styled your hair and accessories to match. Once you were fully dressed you checked the time on your phone. 4.15. Your heart skipped, a small pit of anxiousness sitting in your stomach.

You breathed in and out slowly, calming yourself. It was a big day, and you hoped nothing went wrong. You really hoped they showed.

You decided to leave, thinking there was no harm in getting there a little early. They may have thought the same thing and could have already been there. You made your way to the library, your heart beating hard as you came around the corner. Your eyes instantly locked onto the bench outside.

It was empty. Your heart dropped, and you quickly looked at the time. 4.40. You still had 20 minutes, so there was no reason to get too panicked. Just because you were early didn’t mean they were not going to show.

You sat down and waited patiently, scanning over all the people who walked past, wondering if they were the ones coming to meet you. Nervously you kept checking your phone, the anxious pit getting heavier as it got closer to 5pm.

Eventually your phone read 5.01pm.

Yet you continued to sit alone. You reassured yourself that sometimes people were late.

5.05

Maybe they were caught up with something.

5.10

Maybe they forgot and they were just now on their way.

5.15

Maybe they said a different day? You pulled the post-it out from your bag, reading it and re-reading it. It definitely said Friday at 5. Your heart felt heavy, your bottom lip wobbling as you tried hard not to cry.

5.30

How long were you supposed to wait? You felt awful. You didn’t want to leave in case they arrived, but you also didn’t want to stay for too long. The idea that they weren’t coming was too painful, and you were about to just go home and cry.

You checked your phone one last time. 5.36. You rubbed your eyes, trying to stop tears before they even formed.

The sound of running caught your attention, making you look up. Mr. Prime was running over to you, his dress shoes clacking against the pavement, his tie flying in the wind as he ran. He stopped just before you. He smiled and said your name.

“Hello, Mr. Prime.” You said, wondering why he was running to you. Have you forgotten something? Maybe you hadn’t given him any homework, though you didn’t think so.

For a few seconds, you just stared at each other. He looked down and saw the yellow post-it in your hand, then took a seat beside you.

“I’m sorry I’m late.” He said, his voice sounding a little ashamed. You were about to ask what he was late for when he continued talking. “One of the students was asking for help on their project and I could not get away. By the time I finally told them I had to go, it was already 5, and then I had to run over here from my office. I do apologize for keeping you waiting.”

He then pulled out a folded piece of paper from his pocket. It was your poem. Your mind finally clicked the pieces together. Your mind swirling with the realization that your English teacher was the mystery poet you had been talking to for the past few weeks. You tried to keep your excitement from bursting out. You had no idea what to say, all your preplanned conversations were gone. He sat there, smiling at you. His smile completely took your breath away. You had always thought he was cute, but sitting there now, finally revealed as your mystery poet, he was incredible.

“It’s ok.” Was all you could mutter.

“I’m so glad I got to read your work. It always brought a smile to my face and brightened my day. You’re a very talented poet.” Mr. Prime complimented.

“Me? You are much more talented. Your poems are so beautiful, Mr. Prime.” You replied.

“Please, call me Optimus.”

You nodded, repeating his name over in your head. He wasn’t who you expected. Never in a million years would you expect your professor to be your mystery crush. But you weren’t complaining, and you definitely weren’t disappointed. He was brilliant, and you were happy he was the mystery poet.

“I asked to meet here because I wasn’t sure where to take you or what you may like. As you were my mystery poet and I only knew so much from our exchanges.” He chuckled. Your heart fluttered when he called you ‘his’ mystery poet. “I’d like to take you to dinner if you’d like?”

“I would like that.” You grinned; your face hot from a fresh blush. Optimus suggested a nearby restaurant, one you were quite fond of. He then stood and offered you, his hand. You took it, linking your arm with his as you walked away from the library together.

The dinner was perfect, and conversation flowed easily between the two of you. You had so many similar interests, and your differences only complimented the other. After dinner Optimus took your arm once more and walked you back to your dorm, wanting to get you there safely. He paused halfway there, standing in a quiet part of the park.

“I wish to confess something, and you can tell me if I make you uncomfortable.” Optimus started. You guessed where he might be leading with the conversation, and you were very excited if you were right. “I have thoroughly enjoyed sharing poems with you. The experience was a joy, and I wished it could last forever. But the more we exchanged, the more my heart would flutter when I thought of you. I didn’t know who you were, yet your words made me feel like I did. I knew I had to meet the real you, so I could put a face to the beautiful words. And what I see now, is the words were just a reflection of their gorgeous author.”

Heat pulsed through your body from an extreme blush. He had such a way with words, written or spoken. You didn’t know how to respond, though you didn’t need to as he continued speaking.

“This may sound silly, as I only knew you through your words. But I had grown a little crush on you. And now, after meeting you in person, and enjoying the perfect night with you it has grown. I have fallen quite suddenly for you.” He confessed. His own blush was prominent on his face, even in the dim street light.

“I feel the same.” You burst out, not wanting him to be the only one to confess. You wanted to make sure it was known, so he wouldn’t feel uncomfortable being the only one to pour his heart out. “I feel the same and have for a while. I have loved sharing our poems, but I knew I had to meet you. I was scared to suggest it, worried I might scare you away. You asking to meet was one of the happiest days of my life.” You grinned happily, doing a little happy bounce as you talked.

Optimus giggled, his own smile lighting up his face.

“I am so glad.” He cheered. Optimus gently took your hands in his. They were warm and gave your hands a soft squeeze. “I would like to continue this, and start having more official dates.”

You felt as though you were going to explode from happiness. You wanted to dance and sing from joy, but you kept yourself calm and just squeezed his hands back.

“Yes, I would very much like that as well.”

For a few seconds, you stared at each other, still holding hands. Optimus looked as though he wanted to say something, but was a little nervous to do so. You had never seen him act nervous before, but you found it adorable.

“May I kiss you?” He finally asked.

“Yes.” You replied immediately.

Optimus leaned down. You raised yourself a little to meet him halfway, not wanting him to bend too far and hurt himself. The gap closed, and your lips met his. His lips were soft and warm and fit against yours perfectly as if they were made specifically just to kiss you.

You kissed for what felt like an eternity, though it was most likely just a minute. You didn’t want it to end, the feeling was so magical and soothing. Optimus was the first to pull away, a happy smile across his face.

“Accidently leaving my poem in that book, was the best thing I have ever done.” He commented. You giggled.

“Well, me taking your suggestion and picking the book up was the best thing I ever did.” You smiled.

“Oh, then suggesting the book was also the second-best thing I have done.” Optimus added. You laughed, Optimus chuckling along with you. “I shall get you back to your dorm now, as it is getting late. But I look forward to progressing our relationship.”

“As do I.”

Optimus leaned down to place one final kiss upon your lips, before walking you the rest of the way home.

#ask #transformers #optimus prime #human optimus prime #optimus x reader

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film-in-my-soul · 8 months

Note

Ficlet Bingo: Whump Hangster please!

Warning: Vague depictions of bodily injury

.⋆｡°✩ Jake is hurt. But it's alright. Bradley is there. ✩°｡⋆.

His ears are ringing, but that's not the half of it; it's just the half that's the most present while his eyes are still closed, and his body is deciding what the hell it wants to focus on first. Apparently, when he tries to suck in a breath to regain the air he's lost, his broken ribs win out. He's saved from screaming because he didn't manage that breath after all.

Opening his eyes seems impossible, not with the way alarms are turning his brain into a house fire, and the idea of even twitching is threatening an insurmountable kind of panic into his throat. Still, there's a background frequency to the pain and flaring in his brain, a loop of memorable shouts from COs and his father that forces him to shove down all the rolling fear trying to eat him alive.

'Don't you quit now cadet!'

'The Navy doesn't let little boys into planes, Seresin. You a little boy? Then stop acting like one!'

'I didn't raise my son to cry over scraped knees, Jake. Pick yourself up and stop throwing dirt on the Sere-'

"-sin! Hangman!"

The loop escapes his ears and unfurls into the open. For a terrifying second, Jake thinks he's starting to lose it. He can't tell if he's bleeding out, doesn't know if the aching all over his body is accompanied by lacerations or worse, so it's possible he's dying right now and doesn't know it. But-

"Jake," the voice is closer now, and Jake, sucking in the smallest breath he can manage, ignoring the nausea at the rattle in his lungs when it blows out, recognizes it.

"-shaw," he can't get the whole word to form, not past the ragged cough that racks him and lights his chest up like an angry Christmas tree, all fuckshitow and red.

He attempts to do it again but comes up empty, and then he redirects his energy into opening his eyes because talking is apparently out of the question. He's just managing it, blinking grit and what's probably blood out of them, when a shadow falls over his body, and the ground vibrates with how hard Rooster hits his knees next to where Jake's sprawled out.

He thinks he might say something when the other man's face swims into focus, but between his body deciding it really needs him to know it's fucked in some significant way and managing the feat of seeing, it doesn't come out as more than a slur. It makes Rooster's eyebrows scrunch and his mouth pucker, ugly and a little wrecked, so Jake doesn't try again.

"Fuck," Rooster curses under his breath like he's hoping Jake doesn't catch it. It wouldn't matter if he didn't; the sentiment is a shared one, and if he thought he could nod in agreement without throwing up or screaming, he would.

Jake doesn't realize his eyes are slipping closed again until there's a warm, soft pressure on his cheek, tapping at it with shaking fingers.

"Hey, hey, don't you fucking close your eyes, Jake." Rooster's voice is choked, wet like Jake's cough had been, and it's the worry that maybe Rooster had gotten just as messed up as Jake had that has him forcing his lids back up, trying to search for injuries his slowly melting brain hadn't caught.

He doesn't see any, but the way Rooster smiles, wobbly, as he strokes his thumb over Jake's slowly numbing skin is enough of a reward to try and keep his eyes from slipping closed again.

Rooster's doing something with his other hand, poking and prodding, maybe inspecting Jake to find out if he's all still in one piece, but he doesn't leave, and he doesn't take his hand off Jake's face, keeping up the point of contact like it's enough of a comfort to weather the storm of hurt Jake's slowly becoming detached from.

Eventually, he must run out of things to look at, or maybe he just can't stomach it anymore because his attention drifts back to Jake's face. He gets closer, bending over far enough that their foreheads knock together, his hand slipping from Jake's skin to the front of his top, twisting into the fabric and holding on so tight that it almost jostles his no-doubt mangled torso.

"I've got you, sweetheart. You're gonna be okay. I've got you."

Jake doesn't mean to blink and not open his eyes for a second time, but he can't help. Regardless, with Rooster clutching at him, murmuring into his hair, and doing something that might be calling for help, it's alright. Because Jake's gonna be okay.

Bradley said so.

Ficlet Bingo!

#hangster #sereshaw #ficlet #hangster ficlet #top gun fliclet #ficlet bingo #blog game

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sodamors · 8 months

Text

consequences

sekido attempts a leap to freedom.

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. this fic is bad, don’t read it if you aren’t comfortable.

hantengu clones pet au. you can read the context/background here.

this might be part of a series of works, which covers sekido’s fight for an escape. literally just bad feels all around.

not beta read.

—

nowadays, the guards didn’t even bother closing his cage. they saw him too weak and frail, busted from all his rounds in the ring, groggy from continuous wisteria shots. and they weren’t wrong. sekido could barely move, so even if the gate was wide open, all he could do was stare.

useless. he’ll remember the times he spat at his counterparts. inefficient, lazy, weak. and now he was no better than them, no matter how much he bared his fangs.

but if there was one good thing left about him, it would be that he remembers. faces, voices, scents, everything. he knows exactly which guard comes over, who was lazy and didn’t lock the gate, who was strict and prodded him if he breathed too loudly. and he remembers them all — their stupid, pouty, human faces tore a bubbling rage through him. but the familiar fury was somewhat comforting. he prided himself for his resolve. besides, it was all he has left.

a sharp, ringing bell resounding through his dark cage meant only one thing. bettors were present, and they wanted to see him fight.

it was more of wanting to see him lose; lose miserably, in particular. having been tossed little to no food for months on end, sekido could barely move, much less get his bda to activate. he’d get pummelled, face first on the ground, whimpering pathetically as his opponent’s vile claws and fangs ravage his flesh. he could never fight back, or even get a hold of himself. old wounds would split open, and new ones make their stinging mark.

but no matter how much he was beat up, eyes glazed over, breathing erratic, he would always catch a glimpse of the bettors. chuckling in their stupid highchairs, his agony their entertainment. and his rage would erupt again — and so, keeping him barely alive.

the bell dings again, and sekido watches as a guard slides his cage door open. the guard trudges in, catch-pole in hand, hooking the thick loop around sekido’s neck. it digs into his skin, scraping foully against barely-healed bruises, as sekido is dragged out of his cage.

the ring is loud and chaotic. blinding lights beam at the blood-splattered ground, as rambunctious cheers emanate from every corner. bettors and spectators in the encircle the arena, drinks in hand, multicoloured masks concealing their faces.

if sekido could, he would hunt each and every one of them down. using their voice or scent or anything — he would rip, bite, tear them apart. infuriation twisted and boiled inside of him — all they have is a stupid plant, that just so happened to be a demon repellent. what were they so proud of? he growled at the flurrying crowd.

but sekido looks down wearily, eyes on his new opponent. a vaguely familiar pink. he frowns.

upper moon three.

sekido’s confusion rises, but soon subsides. humans had indeed taken over. not even the might of upper moon three could best them.

sekido tugs against the loop round his neck, not wanting to face akaza, not like this. where had honour gone? away for good, perhaps, as the guards yanked brutally at him, forcing out a deplorable whine from his lips.

akaza also frowns. “upper four.”

“no need to call us that,” sekido says.

“us?”

fuck. “i mean. me.” sekido clears his throat, and tries to shake away a twinge in his heart. “there’s no point in the kizuki, akaza. it’s all over.”

hearing himself, he realises his voice was hoarse, and throat was parched. clearing it had been useless.

“i know,” akaza says, some form of solemnity in his tone. “weak, cowardly humans, using their plant…”

sekido nods, but eyes the judge cautiously. any moment now, the fight would begin. settling bets took only a while, not forever.

“but i must fight you,” akaza says. gone was the honour and the excitement sekido respected akaza for. “i’m starving. they won’t feed me until i beat you.”

“i know,” sekido replied. “just… beat me up, but make it quick. they’re… they put me in for entertainment. only.”

“oh.”

“yeah. i think it’s starting.” sekido bares his teeth weakly, just for show. maybe he could get food if he excited the crowd enough.

akaza did not make it quick.

the bettors egged him on, waving pieces of irresistible meat in his face. honestly, sekido couldn’t blame him. hunger brought demons to their wildest selves, and upper moon three was no exception. sekido’s left arm had been beaten to a pulp, ripped at the elbow, the rest of the arm gone. bruises and bumps painted his body like the brush strokes of a crazed artist, blotches of red, black and blue, ebbing with his heartbeat. his muscles screamed with exhaustion, an acidic burn overwhelming his senses. it was no help that he was discarded into his cage with no food in tow.

the guard hadn’t locked the gate.

sekido wanted to growl. the pathetic human knowing he’s too weak to move was an insult itself. and again, his old friend — the flames, the burning rage in his chest — swallowed him whole. a rush of adrenaline kicked his senses to a height, a burst of hate-filled power roared in his muscles one last time.

sekido rips himself off the floor, ramming his body on the bars. and they swing right open— he catches himself before a heavy fall, and darts immediately for the stands. move move move move

bettors and dealers flock the area, suddenly erupting into screams when they see him. move move move. sekido trashes the tables, baring his teeth, snarling and snapping at whoever he could claw at. he catches a pudgy man and rips his back to pieces. he grabs ahold a tall lady and rips her to shreds. he cared no more, only listening to the raging, bursting blazes, blinding him with fury.

but all good things come to an end. his neck suddenly stings, and a different fire ripples through him. his body, despite exerting all he had, felt heavy, as though weighed down by hundreds of boulders.

and as he catches a glimpse of the accursed purple dart, sticking out of his neck like a thorn, he collapses to the ground, breathing ragged and vision black.

#sekido #hantengu clones #akaza mention #akaza #DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT #dead dove do not eat #demon slayer #angst #kimetsu no yaiba #writing #whump writing #big words in this one #do you know how many times i went to the thesaurus for a synonym of ‘anger’#waaaaa #i might draw this out #i’ll tag more when i remember

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rinbowaman · 10 months

Text

S E 7 E N : M A M M O N P A R T F O 4 R

Warnings: Just lots of fluff, mentions of bodies being mutiliated, torn, shredded, turned into statues, enveloped by metals, people getting smacked, (they had it coming) and i think that's it really.

You both continued to walk as he leads you to a nearby alley where he found Kimchi and the other stray cats.

“Okay, they’re around here somewhere.” He remarks as he burns a hole into the bag with his index finger, the same manner of how he burned the piece of hair off that woman from the store and empties the contents of the bag entirely onto the ground.

You watched as numerous cats come about from all over and out of hiding as they quickly run up to Jungwon’s squatted form and begin feasting on the dumped food. He pets and rubs each one, remaining low on the ground. You step over and kneel beside him and start petting some of them.

He smirks as he side glances your display of affection towards the cats, noting how you rubbed their chin or stroked their ears.

“You’re very good with them. I can tell that all of mine are going to love you.” he remarks.

“I’m going to bring all of these ones back home too, along with Kimchi.”

You raised a brow and continued petting the cats.

“They must be very happy and grateful that you take care of them.” You softly spoke out.

He looks at you with the utmost sentimentality grazing his face.

“I think they are…yeah.” He softly responds back.

Standing back up, he loops his arm around your waist and gently pulls you back up with him.

“We’ll let them eat for now. Let’s go and take a nice little walk.” He issues softly as he taps the tip of your nose.

You nod.

The walk through the central park of the city, which was practically in ruins since it hadn’t been maintained since the angel’s appeared, provided a nice sense of privacy as the overgrown foliage secluded you both out of sight.

Come up against a brick wall from a monument nearby, he continues to swing your hand as he holds onto it while walking, his other hand tucked casually into his pocket.

“So tell me….are you afraid to die?” he asks.

You shook your head. “To be honest…it isn’t death that makes me scared…its….i don’t want to die by those things…”

Already knowing to what you were referring to, he nods. “yeah…can’t say I blame you. If I was a human, I’d damn sure wouldn’t want to die by them…they’re so…unnecessary.” He remarks.

You nodded.

“Do you know them?...the Angels?” you inquire.

He sighs out.

“Yeah…I do….so do my brothers. We don’t get along with them…bad history.” He remarks as he continues to slightly swing your hand with his.

“Oh….” You simply responded with.

“Can you tell more about….home?”

Surprised by your notion of referring his home as your own, he smiles widely as he pulls you in slightly by the hold of your hand.

“Yeah….what do you want to know? I’ll tell you whatever you like.”

You slightly smirked before asking.

“Um…well…what’s the scenery like, I guess.”

He shifts his gaze over to the side and looked inquisitive for a moment.

“Mmm…well, it depends which province you go to. It’s a very large place...in fact, it’s somewhat infinite. But most of the time I stay within my own region, visiting my brothers a few times here and there. My territory has a lot of trees and cat houses that I build, also hammocks. The lions love the hammocks. Some parts of it resembles the plains of Africa, while others resemble the mountainous landscapes of Asia. There’s even snow in some parts, for the snow leopards.”

He continues to elaborate, and you couldn’t hide it, it was rather interesting to find out more about where he and his brothers came from, which you could only suspect was, Hell…yet the way he described the setting of his territorial rule, it was nothing like you would have imagined. Trees? Grass? Snow? Mountains? Filled with all sorts of feline species? It sounded more like a zoo than anything else.

“It sounds really nice.” You remarked.

He softly responds as he looks at you, once again his expression was tender and loving.

“yeah….it is.” He runs his fingers through your hair.

“Pretty kitten.” Pulling you in, your chest pressed up against his, you felt his heartbeat. Slightly gasping at his sudden demeanor, his hand reaches up and presses your face to rest against him. Swaying your bodies slightly, he continues to embrace you fully as he whispered compliments to you, just like Jay and Helel did, amongst the interesting conversation you had as you got to know more about him.

……………………….

‘You’re the prettiest cat…’

‘If I drew whiskers on you, and got you a headband with cat ears, would you wear it whenever you come to visit me?’

‘You’d look so cute.’

‘You have feline like eyes, now that I take a closer look at them.’

‘Me? Looking like a cat? That’s the best notion of flattery any woman has given to me, thank you.’

‘What type of cat do I look like to you? A Tabby? Shorhair? Domestic? Please tell me I look like a Maine coon or a Savannah.’

‘Oh yeah, I named every single one of them, lets see there’s…Barivel, Zeus, Zorba, Crème-puff, Mr. Bagelsworth, Stewie, an there’s also Roxanne, Ruby, oh! I’ve also got Mandu, Cupcake, Sundae, Sweet-potato, and Daisy, oh….Daisy is my girl. She sleeps with me and gets all the cuddles.’

………………………

You both stood for what had seemed like hours as the conversation continued on and on, yet you didn’t’ feel tired, nor did your legs feel the strain of standing while wearing your black low-heeled shoes. It almost felt as if you weren’t standing for such a long period of time, you felt as relaxed as you would have felt while laying down on a bed of feathers.

You wondered if it was because of him…he wasn’t carrying you per-say, yet you felt as if he was taking the burden of your weight away as he maintained his embrace with you, pressing you against him as he rests his face on the top of your head.

“You’ll never have to worry about anything…not with us around. We’ll take care of you, even the weight on your shoulders…..pretty kitten.”

You nodded.

You weren’t entirely sure if they could read your mind, yet there was a trend where a thought popped up into your head and between Jay’s response, or Jungwon’s remarks, it all seemed fitting and prompted. Was it telepathy? Or did they just have a gift to peek into a person’s mind and sense what they’re thinking?

Shifting you around, he rests your back against the brick wall of the monument and leans in. Cupping your face, he rests his cheek against yours. You felt his tongue licking the helix of your ear, as he sucks on the lobe, your earring included.

Somehow, though you don’t know how he managed to do it, he removes the earring with just his mouth, yet you didn’t feel a thing as he did it. The backing removed, the jewelry piece completely removed from your piercing, he pulls back slightly and grins at you with the earring gently resting in between the two rows of teeth.

He scoffs out a chuckle, as did you. Taking it with his fingers, he looks it over and studies it.

“Hmmm…plated, not at all real, is this what you like?” he inquires with a soft smirk.

“You mean the earring? Well it was just a set I bought from a store.” You respond back with.

“hmm…” he smirks once again, reaching up with his other hand as he shifts his gaze to your other ear, he removes the remaining earring, and places them both in his palm.

“Put your hand on top of them.” He gently issues as he leans in and rests his forehead against yours.

The soft strands of his bangs felt like silk against your skin. Doing so, you gently hover over the earrings, where your palm meets with his.

“Keep it there until I tell you to move, okay?”

You nod.

“What’s your favorite color, pretty kitten?”

“Mmm..(your favorite color here)”

“Silver or gold?”

“(your preference here)”

“Studs or dangling?”

“(your preference here)”

“Favorite flower?”

“(your favorite flower here)”

Once he was finished asking you a series of questions, he leans in and kisses the back of your palm that rested over the earrings. Looking back up at you, he reaches up with his other hand and tucks your hair behind your ear.

“You can move your hand now, pretty kitten.”

Slowly retracting your hand away, you saw a pair of earrings, made of real (silver/gold), dawned with jewels in your favorite color. They were (stud/dangling) that resembled (your favorite flower). The earrings had emulated the exact responses you gave to him, and by looking at them, they were real and priceless.

Taking your hand, he places them both in your palm and removing one, he reaches over to your ear and places it in for you. Once he was done, he takes the second earring and places it on your next ear, admiring how the sparkle of each piece looked beautiful on you.

“There. You deserve the real thing, not cheap jewelry.” He smiles.

You felt overwhelmed, and issued out your gratitude as you reached up and admired one of the earrings with your fingertips, feeling the intricate mold and design based off your preference.

“Do you like them?”

“…I love them. Thank you….I really do.”

“Good giiiiiiirrrlll..”

Cupping your cheeks, he performs his habit of rubbing the tip of his nose against yours. The siren played aloud, interrupting the moment as it indicated that curfew was nearby. You shifted uncomfortably as the sound pierced your ears, to which Jungwon took notice of and covered both your ears as he leans your face against his chest.

It grew dark, and sure enough, you could hear the murmurs of the regulators nearby as they began to roam looking out for anyone that remained outside past the curfew hours. You didn’t’ feel as worried, since you were with Jugnwon. Looking down at you, he softly tells in a calm voice.

“Come on, I’ll take you back to your apartment.” You nodded in response as he takes you by the hand.

Leading you through the entrance of the park, you both were suddenly and harshly greeted by a group of regulators.

“What are you both doing here? Its past curfew! You both will come with me.”

Lashing out at you both before speaking into a cellular device, the man signaled his message to all the other regulators as you heard a myriad of sirens, footsteps, and voices of a massive group, along with a black van that pulls up.

Each cult member was adorned in all black, with the symbol of their cult marked on their blouses. They had on masks and their badges as they gripped on to whatever weapon they bore against you and Jungwon.

“Huh….” Licking the roof of his mouth, Jungwon slightly furrowed his brows in irritation as he maintained his grip on your waist.

“You really going to point those things at me?” he exclaims calmly with a slight bit of amusement in his tone as he watches the men gather round with knives pointed in your direction, guns locking and loading, long blades of machetes and saws, along with various bounds of restraints such as handcuffs, ropes, and straps were all on display within their grasp.

“You can come in quietly, or we can take you dead. Your choice.” One of the regulators lashes out.

It amazed you that after with what had happened with Jay, surely these men had heard of how he slaughtered their fellow members with ease, yet, how they remained confident and quirky was beyond you.

‘Don’t they know that these men are not from this world?...’

Slightly amused by the regulator's brazen attitude, Jungwon scoffs as he widens his eyes, issuing a harsh tone towards the man.

“Oh…and now you think you have some sort of authority to give ME, an option....like I don’t have the authority to strip you of yours.” he states, his tone reigning a tune that was far more superior than the cult members.

“Quiet!” one of the regulators points and waves his hand in motioning for Jungwon to stay silent. As he did so, the flash of his ring signifying his membership within the cult, was apparent as the man tried to establish his level of importance.

“You dare to wave your cheap metals at me?...Oh…hohoho..boy…you have no idea….” Jungwon growled.

His elated pitch turned dark. Upon noticing that the men were not going to back down at his harsh tone, he smirks. “Very well, that’s how you want to do it?” eyeballing the members, he snarls. “Good….STAND THE FUCK BY.”

P A R T F I 5 E

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ducks-and-stuff · 4 months

Text

How to build a house; a comprehensive guide by Jimmy Solidarity.

You don’t, first of all. Build one that is. You steal one, and you go to the market for new locks, and you hope and pray that whoever owned this place before you doesn’t come poking around ever again. There’s Ivy on the walls now though, and the roof is partly collapsed over to the left over there, and everything is entirely overgrown so- it’s abandoned, the whole neighborhood looks very abandoned, so they’re probably not. And you’re alone. And it’s fine.

2. It’s fine. You take a dust coated broom from the closet and run the faucet until the rust colored water turns into something that looks drinkable and eat a couple canned peaches from the cellar. You look around at the barely habitable place around you and you fix it. You’re fixing it. You collect boards and nails for the ceiling, take the debris into the waste disposal at the nearest town, the quaint little one you passed on the way over. Kill a pregnant spider, and manage not to abandon the half baked plan of yours entirely when it’s babies subsequently explode everywhere. You do it, you’re doing it, and this is what success must feel like. You clean the bath, the sink, you hate the mirror but it’s okay because the water systems and most of the electrical sockets work. And then you’re done one day. It’s not exactly homely, but it’s a little livable, and when there is nothing left to clean, or salvage, or keep you occupied anymore there’s a queen sized bed in one of the bedrooms. And it is at that point that you look back on everything that has happened over the past year and who knows how long and realize that yes you are tired, and yes a nap sounds very nice. So you curl up into it, and sleep for a very, very, very long time.

3. Realize you were wrong. That’s what comes next You wake up, sit in silence for five minutes, and immediately realize that there’s more to do, isn’t there? There’s always more to do. It’s barely livable anyways and cottagecore? The great Jimmy Solidarity is not some fairy tale in the forest he’s- he’s- he’s the guy who plants a garden. Fixes the fence out back. Fill the empty space with work and work and work and it works. Get a heater, get a water filter, kill some of the cows outside in this lawless land because sheep and chicken and cattle are content to roam the streets apparently and store the meat in an icebox when the fridge randomly stops working. One mini-fridge, two mini-fridges, you are an unstoppable mini-fridge machine Solidarity. Good for you! What’s this? Whatever poor suckers lived here before only owned one of those old boxy tv’s with a twisted antennae? It hasn’t been the 90’s in several decades! Replace it, throw that thing down the cellar stairs and laugh like a maniac when you hear it shatter on the ground. It feels good. It has to feel good. Some weird, beautiful, twisted form of good. Throw more things down the stairs just to to chase that fleeting feeling. The twinkling of bells. Somehow the wall acquires a fist-shaped hole. Somehow your hand gets bruised. This place has everything but bandages, it doesn’t matter. You have a tub of ice cream next to the meat and Golden Girls plays on loop when you lie down to rot in the living room. Scream into the pillow.

4. You get a cat. You’re not supposed to get a cat. You know this. Getting attached to anything ever again is unhealthy, more people should learn this from you. The cat, obviously, does not care. It shows up one day, follows you home after you’ve had the bright idea to go farther than the front porch for some fresh air. Adventure and all that. The cat is probably tired of all the condescending cows roaming the landscape and so follows you home, and every time it leaves it inevitably comes back, and now it’s a cat and it’s yours. One that purs when you scratch it. One that curls up next to the heater sometimes early in the morning. Kills a mouse and presents it proudly at the room to your door. It likes golden girls too, because sometimes at night when bed is too far away it curls up next to you on the couch and you breathe in and out into its fur. The cat looks in your direction when you sit and awkwardly talk on the phone. You name it after a serial killer.

5. You work. You can’t- it was fine when it was just you there because, well, you didn’t matter all that much. Really. Just keep up appearances when going out and all was well. No-one asked questions. But now the damned cat is needy. Giving it some old frozen mini-pancakes was a bad plan actually, because he’s now got a taste for them and won’t leave it alone. Who has disgusting mini-pancakes just lying around anyways? This is England- you- you hope it’s England. Most people here have British accent anyways, but regardless, the cat wants mini-pancakes. You hate the cat for this, but you hate everything else too at this point so it’s fine. The cat- Norman, also has a bad habit of getting into places no matter the amount of sensible barriers are put up between him and the offending object. Walls? Squeeze around them. Windows? Finds another route. Doors? Nope. Magical teleporting cat winds up in the room anyways, which means now you have to clean the dangerous cellar stairs now too. Amazing. You go down there and get a piece of glass stuck in your foot in the process before the bright idea of wearing shoes presents itself. Cats eat meat and cat food, and milk isn’t healthy for them. Norman feeds himself a lot. It doesn’t matter. You used to head into town maybe once every two weeks. Now you do it more. There’s no set reason behind why but you’re blaming the cat anyways. So you get out more, and you have a cat and the cat jumps up onto the off-kilter dining room table to eat some of your meals. There is still no guide out on what to feel about all this. Someone who isn’t you should write a book. 6. You suck it up and hang their pictures on the wall. You don’t have many, but you have some in the backpack downstairs, and that first day of college with Grian and Martyn by your side looks down at you when you place it up in the entrance to the hallway. Grian is smiling cheekily, you are smiling with way too much enthusiasm, you pretend Martyn isn’t there. There are other photos too, all in that same hallway. Your arm around Big B. The property police station. The first day of Evo. A rare moment of you and Pearl wearing smiles that aren’t somewhat strained. So you hang them up, and you get them nice little frames because the photos themselves are crumpled and a little yellowed around the edges. At some point you point to them and say to Norman that these are his uncles and aunts and then pause before you explain why he’s never going to meet them. He steals some of your fish again. Nobody seems to care.

7. You cry a lot

8. You drink tea. You make a good attempt at baking Norman a birthday cake. The sun rises and you rise with it. You decorate a little bit with some stuff you’ve gathered from town and people who’s love language is gift giving. You breathe in. You breathe out. You tell yourself it’s going to be okay, really, and if it isn’t then at least you are trying your best. You stuff the note in the bedroom drawer, and hope that one day you will forget the words etched into the paper. You won’t, you know you won’t, but maybe pretending it will is just what progress looks like.

9. Joel comes over. He- he wants to see where you live. You told him a little about it, and now he wants to see it, because you might have been a little too honest and Joel gets too worried for his own good. Wild animals roaming in the street and all that. Not up to standard. You are Jimmy Solidarity, throw out the old standard and make a new one. Joel doesn’t acknowledge that joke, but he does stare wide eyed at the neighborhood you call home when you finally finish the bike up, and sends you a slightly panicked look you pretend not to see. It’s manageable. The stovetop works. It’s fine. Joel keeps his mouth shut politely all the way up until you enter that hallway, at which point he asks why the walls are so bare. But it’s for the best that you took those pictures down today, really, because had then he might have asked about the people in them, and you would have just gaped like a fish. So you shrug. And his face is scrunched up into the patented Joel ‘I’m very concerned’. stare. It fades when he sees the cat though. He’s more of a dog person himself but everyone’s a Norman person so it doesn’t really matter. You sit down, he pets the cat, you serve some tea with lemon, he wins at Monopoly. Then when it gets too late he tells you he’ll see you for the build battle on Monday, and hugs you goodbye. You tell him not to get eaten by the dangerous wild cows on the way down. You both smile.

10. Home doesn’t sound right. Is it supposed to? Probably. If you live there and all. If you’ve got a cat roommate and photos on the walls more often than not. If you’ve got a bunch of mini-fridges and fairy lights strung up in the bedroom and a little mosaic made up of shattered glass that shimmers when the sun hits it just right. So it’s home. It must be. But still… When Fwhip invites you to join empires you lock the door and pack your bags, and it is much easier than one might have initially considered to leave.

#jimmy solidarity #evo smp #mcyt #mcytblr #Wow guys look it’s that one au I have again #Jimmy and the importance of Saying Goodbye #AU

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bubble-tea-blossom · 1 year

Text

Jealousy

Pairing: Joel X f!reader

Rating/Warnings: E for Explicit Smut so 18+ only please. Rough sex. Face fucking. PIV. Angst and Fluff and Smut the Holy Trinity. Size kink. Big Meat Joel.

WC: 9.9 k...(I don’t know what happened.)

Summary: You get bit by the green-eyed demon, and struggle with dealing with it. What better way to get your frustrations out than fuck? Good thing you have a fling going with a certain ex-smuggler.

A/N: This takes place before Slip Up. Sorry for posting out of order. Ao3.

You let out a yawn as you finish lacing up your boots.

All tied, you sit up straight on the bed and look over besides you at the sleeping form of Joel.

Jeez, you must have really worn him out last night. The thought brings a little smile to your face.

He’s on his side, facing where you had laid as you slept, facing him. He’s usually such a light sleeper, but you’re being careful as you get dressed to be quiet. He has the day off and you want him to sleep in for once.

He looks so peaceful, his face relaxed, his hair a little wild on the pillow. You know you’re taking too long, you really need to leave. But the view you’re looking at is so...soft.

You spent over two decades in places where all you saw was one horror after the next, the only break were the blue bells in the woods, or the iridescent feather of a pigeon on the ground. After such a deficit of serenity, you can’t help but gorge on the feast before you.

The sight of him makes you want to crawl back under the covers and curl up against him again.

In a close second, you instead lean over and plant a light kiss against his cheekbone.

Eyes still closed, his lips twitch up in a sleepy smile. They’re too irresistible so you kiss the corner of his mouth as well before drawing away.

Finally standing up, you go to leave room when you hear him stir. But when you look back you see he’s only readjusting the pillow, eyes not even open. Obviously not planning on getting up anytime soon. Good.

With that you take your leave, tiptoeing out the back door of his house.

It’s early enough that the morning brings a slight chill, you know will be sorely missed when the summer heat comes on.

With a quick peek over the fence, you don’t see anyone around and slip out his gate. You jog a few steps to get a decent distance away before slowing to a walk.

You already have all your gear you need for patrol, so you head straight for Seth’s bar for breakfast. Dawn patrol means you get the restaurant nearly completely to yourself.

You hear a greeting of your name when you walk through the door, and you look up to see Tommy already sitting at one of the tables, eating.

“I got you something to eat, here.”

“Thanks, Tommy.” You say through a yawn, making your way over to the table.

You really did not get enough sleep as you probably should have.

Sat across from Tommy, you unwrap the still warm breakfast burrito and dig in.

You and Tommy eat in silence, when it’s this early not even Tommy wants to talk.

However, after your third yawn within 30 seconds, Tommy speaks up.

“Had a long night or something?” He asks.

“Uh, kinda. Had trouble falling asleep.” You lie, hoping he can’t see your discomfort at his questioning.

“Mm hm.” He hums, giving you a pointed look.

You choose to ignore his probing, feigning ignorance. After a minute of silence you think you’d gotten away with it, but then Tommy opens his mouth like he always does.

“That Chris is pretty cute huh.”

That throws you for a loop. Especially since you have no idea who Chris is.

“Which Chris.” You say, squinting at him while you chew your breakfast.

Tommy rolls his eyes, “The Chris from that big group that joined up two weeks ago? There’s eight of them. He’s young, handsome. Saw you two talking yesterday at the green houses.”

“Oh, that Chris.” You honestly had forgotten his name. He was nice and yeah decently attractive, but you hadn’t felt any pull to him. Wonder why...

“Yeah, that Chris.” Tommy says sarcastically, and your squint narrows at his tone. You can tell he thinks you’re being coy. What, is he trying to match make you with the first guy your age that comes through?

“I think I’m gonna hold a small dinner party for them this weekend, so they can meet more people, feel welcome. They seem to be settling in well.” He says.

“Hey, how come you didn’t throw me a party when I came to Jackson?”

“Probably cause I knew you would have hated that. As I recall you tried to stab me the first time we met. Didn’t really seem like the party type at the time.”

You shrug your shoulders. Fair enough.

“Think I’m gonna get Joel to host, you’re invited obviously.” Tommy says after a sip of his tea.

“Why Joel’s?” You say casually.

“He’s too much of a hermit. This way he can’t slip away after twenty minutes, he’ll be forced to actually talk to people.”

“He does talk to people, he talks to you and Ellie.”

Tommy shakes his head, “He and Ellie ain’t on best terms, let’s put it. He’s really drawn away from everyone since.”

You have noticed things between them had been rocky for a while, and hearing that it’s gotten worse doesn’t really surprise you. You wish you knew more about what’s going on, but you've kept a respectful distance. Joel isn’t the emotional dumper type, getting him to tell you where he was from had taken months of sweet talking him on patrols when he and Ellie first arrived. You have a feeling that something happened before they arrived in Jackson, some big secret that’s been rotting under the surface and is coming to a head.

“Hurry up slow poke.” Tommy jabs at you and you begin chewing again, coming out of your thoughts.

You finish your breakfast quickly and the two of you make your way to the stables to gather your horses and finally get the dawn patrol on it's way.

━━━━━━♡♤♡━━━━━━

Patrol is surprisingly drama free for once. The only Infect being ones on the ridge that you and Tommy make a game out of trying to out-snipe the other. Tommy won, and has not stopped gloating the entire ride back.

“Loser buys lunch.” He says, dismounting from his horse and passing off his reins to Ben, the stablehand.

“Lunch is free anyways, idiot.” You say, fishing the cookie you kept in your pocket for your own horse, who nickers in excitement and bobs her head as you raise it to her muzzle. You can’t help but smile at her soft nose and whiskers tickling your palm. With one last pat on her shoulder, you pass her off to Ben as well who gives you a nod before leading both mares back to the stables.

“You’re just grumpy cause you’re a sore loser.” Tommy teases as you join back at his side to make your way to Seth’s restaurant.

“Yeah, yeah.” You grumble.

Tommy is mercifully silent the rest of the way there, and you’re so looking forward to going home and taking a nap.

The streets are pretty full now that’s it close to midday, Gustavo is out picking his banjo on the corner, Buckley curled up at his feet. The music of his song follows you all the way to the entrance of the bar/restaurant. But the din of people that rushes out as soon as Tommy opens the door for you, chases away any lingering notes.

It’s pretty full, today, Your eyes start scanning the room for a place to sit. Your roving eyes freeze on Joel, who’s standing near the bar at the other end of the room, and the gorgeous woman talking to him.

She’s part of the group that Tommy mentioned earlier this morning. Jolene. You actually do remember her name because when you introduced yourself to them, you remember feeling a little twitch in your gut when you noticed first how beautiful she was: she’s strong, a scar on her eyebrow that only makes her look sexier. The second thing you noticed was her age.

She’s older than you. She’s quite a bit older than you. Much closer in age to Joel than you are. And the realization had made you feel like you had a pebble in your shoe.

The sight of them talking, makes that feeling come back, and you want to shake to vehemently shake it off before you conscious mind can label it.

“Oh there’s Joel, I’m gonna go tell him about his party he’s throwing. You’re coming right?” Tommy asks you, and you only break your gaze on them to briefly glance at Tommy to be polite as you answer, “Yes of course.” Before flicking your eyes back to them.

They’re standing an appropriate distance apart for strangers getting to know one another. But was you watch you see Jolene sway a little into Joel’s bubble every once in a while as she talks. She’s interested in him. Which to be fair, in your opinion who wouldn’t be? But up until now, the competition had been low, Joel doesn’t make himself to easiest person to get to know. But she was certainly trying.

You’re so enthralled in your staring, you don’t notice when Tommy leaves your side, only realizing when you can suddenly see his back getting smaller.

You do turn your head when you hear the door right behind you open and you move out of the way for Ellie and Dina to come in.

They offer you bubbly greetings and you return one in kind, but as soon as they’re past you, you can’t help but you look at Joel across the room.

You see him looking at Ellie, even while Jolene talks to him. She must have noticed his shift in attention because she also looks over in Ellie’s direction, trying to figure out what he’s looking at.

Ellie looks up at Joel and pointedly turns her back to him, and you watch helpless from across the room as visible grief pass over his handsome face. You wish you could grab them both and drag them somewhere private and force them to talk out what ever needs mending. But you really wish you could be there, besides him, and lean into him so he can feel the weight of you pressing into his side, the squeeze of your fingers against his.

By some blessing, Joel looks over at you, and you do your best at a smile, just to tell him you saw, and are trying to comfort him as best as you can.

Jolene obviously says something, because you see Joel’s face quickly shift back to a guarded one, and he turns back to her, saying something before leaving, exiting the restaurant through the back exit.

You definitely don’t feel the tiniest bit of satisfaction at the disappointment on her face, because that would just be petty.

When you slip outside to follow him, he’s nowhere to be found. You shove your hands in your pockets and make your way to his house.

You can hear disconnected chords being strummed before you even touch the wooden gate to his backyard. You open it gingerly so as not to startle him, but it still creaks and you hear the chords falter for a moment before continuing.

When you round the corner of his back porch, he looks up at you, and you offer him an empathetic smile.

“I’m glad you’re here.” His voice is so low, it’s almost whisked away on the gentle breeze. But you still hear him, and his words make your heart sing.

You take a seat next to him the bench, curling your legs up besides you, and leaning against his shoulder. You sit there listening to him plucking scales and chords, feeling the sun on your face, the warmth of him against you, the wind brushing past you.

Gradually, his chords start to take shape into a familiar melody. “My Girl.” By The Temptations. Bittersweet memories flood you with the tune, of singing with your mother. After she died, the thought of singing felt wrong, and even a few hummed words in the dark of night faded quickly.

But you do actually sing for him this afternoon. Mainly to hear his laugh when you purposefully crack your voice or over dramatize a voice wobble. You realize here and now, with your head on his lap, hearing him laugh, that you’ll do anything to keep him happy. The realization fills you with contentment, stubbornness, and a sort of fear that you’ve never felt before.

Again, you choose to push the thought away before your conscious brain can label it.

━━━━━━♡♤♡━━━━━━

It’s Friday, the day before the dinner party at Joel’s house. You have no idea how people Tommy has invited but you're excited to see the inevitable chaos that will ensure.

It’s your second day of four off, since patrollers have schedules like nurses, four days on and four days off. Yesterday you spent the whole day basking in the sun, and lazing around your place.

Today you’re already getting restless, years of living on your own, being constantly on edge has made it difficult to do nothing for long periods of time.

To combat this antsy-ness why not have fun and be productive at the same time?

The shooting range is one of your favorite places to spend your time. Your specialty is long range weapons, a fair portion of your patrols are with Tommy along the ridge line, sniping Infected. This is why you’ve bonded so much over the years you’ve been at Jackson, and he really took you under his wing, honing your skills since being here.

If you’re being honest, when Joel and Ellie first showed up, you were a little worried about being pushed out in a way, with Tommy’s attention now on his brother which is perfectly reasonable; what you wouldn’t give to have family here. But Tommy stuck by you, and now some of his purposefully annoying attention is divided up, which works out for you.

With bullet makers in town, this means a steady supply for practice, and no anxiety about wasting precious bullets. Since you practice so much long range, you decide today is a good day to sharpen your close range skills with some hand guns.

The nice thing about the close range is there’s a section outside, perfect for beautiful days like today.

When you get to the log, the range assistant asks you what you want today. You take a moment to think.

Your thoughts go to Joel, and his loved revolver he has. He trusts that weapon with his life, praising it because he never has to worry about it jamming.

“Can I get a double action revolver, please?” You ask the worker. He gives a quick nod and turns to unlock the gun safe behind him.

“Good choice.”

You spin around to see Joel, and feel a smile split your face. He’s standing there in all his green plaid glory. His hair has fallen over his forehead on one side, and you have to restrain yourself from going on tiptoes to reach up and brush your fingers through it. You know how much he loves his hair being stroked.

Instead you say, “Getting some much needed practice in, Miller?”

Joel smiles at that, “Tough words.”

“Up for a rematch so I can kick your ass again?” You say, voice cocky.

“Love to, but I’m a little busy actually.” He says and just then you see Jolene behind him, making her way over to the two of you. You feel your stomach sink. But you make sure to keep your face completely neutral, forcing a friendly closed mouth smile at Jolene when she says hello.

“Couldn’t help but hear someone say something about a rematch. Mind if I join?”

“Oh I was just joking, I didn’t realize you guys were busy with something.” You say, hearing how lame your excuse sounds.

You hear someone call your name from behind Joel, and everyone turns to see Tommy, sniper riffle cradled in the crook of his elbow.

“This could be your redemption from when I smoked you earlier this week.” He says, a wide smile on his dumb stupid face. This is the last thing you want to be doing.

You hope your glare translates all the curses your calling him in your head, but all he does is smile wider at you.

“What do you say, you and me?” Jolene says, giving you a nudge on the arm. She’s being friendly, and saying no is only going to make you look like the asshole who’s being unreasonable.

“Sure.” You comply, trying your best to look casual instead of defensive. You feel the tips of your fingers tingle and your palms start to sweat. Sure, it’s just a friendly competition, but you can’t help feel like your reputation is on the line, along with some other unconscious competition going on.

After a quick explanation from Joel, Jolene goes over to log out a double action revolver same as yours.

“What are you guys doing here?” You ask, a slight strain in your voice as you turn to Tommy and Joel. Joel at least looks a little guilty, he can tell you don’t want to do this.

“Tommy asked me to give a tour because he said he was too busy.” Joel quickly explains, blaming Tommy.

“I am busy. I came to get my sights fixed on this puppy.” Tommy explains, giving the gun a soft pat.

“Mm hmm.” You and Joel both hum in tune with each other. The both of you have experienced plenty of Tommy’s meddling. Tommy likes to pull strings from the background.

“Alright, ready.” Jolene announces. With a quick look at Joel and Tommy, who gestures for you to lead the way, you gesture for her to follow you.

“Do you know where the outside range is?” You ask, to which she shakes her head.

“Ok, I can show you the way.” You say.

“Sounds good to me. Tommy says you’re a pretty good shot.” She compliments.

Usually that would make you feel good, but for some reason today, hearing her say it, only makes you feel worse. You feel the pressure rising up your throat to not embarrass yourself in front of everyone.

So instead you shrug, “Tommy doesn’t think before he talks a lot of the time.”

“Hey. I can hear you.” He snaps from behind you, pulling a soft chuckle from Jolene.

“I’m a pretty decent shot myself, just so you know.” Jolene finishes.

Alright, now you really need to win.

The targets are already set up. Wooden planks cut out in a human silhouette with paper targets on the torso and head. You let Jolene pick a station to situate herself in and you choose the one next to her.

Flicking open the chamber, you fill in six bullets then flick it closed. Joel’s past words of advice running through your mind while you simultaneously pretend to not really notice his presence behind you.

Hold it like you love it: not too tight, not too loose. Squeeze the trigger slow, but confident.

“Wanna shoot first?” Jolene asks. It’s a disadvantage going first, in your opinion, so to be gracious you accept.

Deep breath in, eyes on your target, raise the gun and find the red bullseye in the iron sights, squeeze.

The shot rings around the range, and after a beat you lower the gun. Not quite a bullseye, but pretty damn close. It’s a good first shot. But instead of relief, you just feel more pressure mount up your throat because now you need to keep it up.

“Nice shot.” Jolene says, “Some real competition.” She grins.

Her movements are smooth, and practiced, she’s obviously someone who can handle themselves. She aims and her shot rings in a delayed echo to yours.

The tear in the paper of her target is nearly identical placing to yours, just on the other side.

Your second shot ends up much the same to your first, only a little lower this time.

Jolene’s lands nearly on top of her first’s, making the hole bigger and little oblong.

You take a deep breath in just like every time as you raise the gun.

“Let’s see it, sharpshooter.” Tommy calls from behind you.

“Tommy, shut the fuck up.” You snap, arms still raised. You try to reorient yourself, but now your rhythm is thrown off. You lower the gun quickly, take another breath, and raise the gun again.

You aim, fire, and hit the very corner of the paper, not even on the painted circle.

You grit your teeth, cursing yourself out harshly in your head. You don’t know why you’ve gotten so invested in this stupid “friendly” competition.

But then Jolene’s shot hits the right half of the bullseye, and you see Joel lean over to her and toss her a quick “Fine shot.” And you feel your self hatred triple.

“What the hell happened there? A ghost came and knocked your gun or some’n?” Tommy quips. You know he’s just joking around, that’s just what he does. But right now, it’s only pissing you off.

“Tommy, I will forfeit this competition just so I can shoot you, if you don’t shut up.” You glare at him. Despite your harsh words and tone he doesn’t look too disturbed, but he does at least throw his hands up and take a few steps away from you.

You shrug your shoulders to shake off his teasing, before re-aiming.

Your fourth and fifth shots are better, landing on target again, but only in the outer circle. Compared to Jolene’s who's are both second circle.

With only one shot left, winning is basically impossible.

“You can always try for the head shot.” Jolene suggests.

If you get a bullseye head shot, and if she misses the target completely, you’ll win. But with how you’re shooting right now, with a weapon you don’t use often, frazzled and embarrassed, you’re more likely to miss the wooden cut out completely and further humiliate yourself.

But now that she’s said that, if you don’t go for the head shot, you’ll look like a coward, and bonus if you miss the body shot you’ll look even more incompetent than missing a head shot.

What a nice relaxing day off, this has turned out to be.

You aim at the body bullseye, and the bullet lands a good four inches away. At least you didn’t miss entirely.

Jolene goes for the head shot, not quite hitting the bullseye but still landing on the much smaller target.

“Nice shooting, the both of you.” Joel congratulates, but when he looks over at you, you glance down.

Jolene says your name so you look up, carefully avoiding Joel’s eyes.

“You did a good job. Not gonna lie, you had me a little worried in the first half, kid.” She smiles at you.

It takes all your effort to force a smile back.

Tommy calling you kid is one thing, Joel used to as well but has definitely stopped for the most part except for when there’s other people around, and you can always tell it’s his way of calling you sweetheart with other’s present.

Jolene calling you kid only makes everything worse because it points out just how much younger you are than her, and just how much better matched she would be with Joel. Her calling you that has light a fire on your inside, you can feel your body heat up with actual anger.

Anger at Jolene, at Tommy, at Joel for some reason. But mostly its anger at yourself.

“Good game.” You manage to grit out, “Well I’ll get out your guy’s hair, see you around.”

You spin around and walk away too fast for anyone to prolong anything. You hand in the revolver to the worker and keep your head down so you can’t see Joel in your peripheral. Then you make your escape back home.

Never in a million years will you ever confess to anyone that you cried when finally closed your bedroom door.

━━━━━━♡♤♡━━━━━━

After what happened yesterday, being at this dinner party is the last place you wanna be.

You’re trying not to be too sullen, to mingle like normal. Laugh at the appropriate times, ask the appropriate questions. When all you want to do is be curled up in your bed, sulking.

Not like you didn’t do enough of that yesterday.

So you’ve taken to sitting curled on the sofa in the corner of the living room, drinking wine, by yourself. You’re definitely not hyperaware of Joel and Jolene having a conversation in the kitchen.

Joel and Jolene. God, even their names are perfect for each other. Joel and Jolene, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.

Apparently your brain has been reduced to childhood theatrics. You take a huge swig from your wine and see over the rim of your glass the shape of Maria approaching.

“Was wondering where you’d gone.” She says, as she takes a seat next to you. Her voice low despite the din of the many others (Tommy did invite a fuck ton of people) in the neighboring rooms.

“I’m sulking.” You half-jest, the wine loosening your tongue.

“I can see that.” She motions for the glass and you hand it to her, watching her take a big gulp.

“Dinner parties aren’t my favorite, honestly.” She admits, taking a last sip before handing the glass back, now significantly lighter.

After a pause, where the both of you listen to the jumble mess of multiple conversations tumbling together, she speaks.   “Tommy told me about yesterday.” She starts.

“Oh, when he pressured me into completely humiliating myself?” You jeer.

Maria heaves a sigh, “Yeah. He came home raving about how impressed he was with you. He knows you don’t have a lot of practice with hand guns.”

You’ll never admit it, but hearing that Tommy was praising you to others, does actually make you feel good, but you’re still mad at him.

“Yeah, but Jolene doesn’t know that. Great way to introduce myself: hi, nice to meet you wanna, watch me make a fool of myself?”

“Yes, I know, hunny. I talked to him, told him not to put you on the spot like that again. I think he forgets how far you’ve come over the last few years since coming here.” She says, giving your knee a squeeze.

It’s true. You had been so skittish when you first came here. You didn’t speak to people, only giving one word answers if necessary. You would take your food and eat in the little garage hut like the one in the backyard here where Ellie sleeps. You would hide most days in your hut, or finding corners of town that were often abandoned so you could sit in the sun there and no would could sneak up on you.

After about four months of never seeing you, Tommy knocked on your door one day and told you someone needed this hut and so you were moving somewhere nicer.

“It’s bigger, I promise. More space.” He’d said, and you packed your entire hut into a duffle bag in five minutes and easily slung it over your shoulder and followed him to a very different part of town.

The part of town he brought you too was a key area you had learned to avoid, it seemed families particularly with small kids lived here, so it’s easy for the kids to play together.

Tommy brought you around the back of one pretty big house and down some steps to the door of the basement suite.

It was much bigger, with a nice sized kitchen, and a bedroom with a queen sized bed, a bathroom with a bath and shower, a dinning room and even a separate living area. Furnished and cozy.

You’d hated it.

At first at least. The family that lived above you had three young kids, which meant noise. And unless you wanted to hop the back fence to get home, you usually had to pass by someone, and be forced to at least answer a few casual questions.

The sounds of running around, dropping things, parents scolding, kids crying drove you crazy, and the small interaction everyday on the way to your basement caused you anxiety.

But eventually, you got used to it, and the sounds of kids screaming in glee or giggling at their older brother’s antics made you smile every time.

At some point, the kids were playing in the street outside when you were coming home, planning on hiding in your room and eating in silence.

But they were having trouble remembering how to draw a hopscotch board on the ground and had begged you with pretty please with a cherry on top, to teach them.

Soon the parents, Sheryl and Darrel, started inviting you to dinner, and looking back on it, moving in there was one of the best things that’s happened to you. It helped thaw the glaciers you’d built around yourself to keep yourself safe all those years. It helped to learn how to be a person again, and not an animal out in the wilderness.

“Tommy does a lot of meddling, but, his meddling usually helps people. He’s helped me in ways, I’ll never be able to repay.” You admit.

Maria nods, palm open to receive your wine glass again.

“He does love sticking his nose into everyone’s business that’s for sure.” She says, taking another long gulp, finishing off your glass. “Oops.”

“C’mon, I’ll go get you another one.” She says rising off the couch, you begrudgingly following suit.

“Oh, and he wants to talk with you.”

You nod your ascent and follow her into the kitchen.

Maria leads you into the dinning room where Tommy is sitting at the table next to Chris, the new Jacksonite. Once she’s successful delivered you, Maria silently takes her leave with a last touch on the arm.

Tommy stops what he was saying to turn to you.

“Hey, there you are. How’s it going?”

“It’s fine, Tommy. How are you?” You reply politely.

“Good, talking with Chris here. We was talking ‘bout your and I’s patrols along the ridge line, how beautiful it is in fall especially.”

“Sounds pretty.” Chris agrees.

“Well if you’re still here in a few months you’ll see it for yourself.” You say, looking at him and taking a seat at the table next to them.

“Oh maybe not, I’m a lousy long distance shoot.” Chris chuckles good naturedly, “I’m more of a close range man.”

You shrug, everyone’s got their own talents. You go to take a sip of your wine before remembering Maria drank it all.

“Well we’ve got a fantastic shooting coach sitting right here.” Tommy says, giving your shoulder a firm shake.

Oh, very smooth Tommy.

“Oh I’m not really, I lost a shooting competition yesterday.” You laugh it off.

“Well maybe you can show Chris the tricks of shooting long distance and he can help you practice close range?” Tommy oh so innocently suggests.

Chris looks at you, “That sounds nice. I’d love to see the ridge line.”

You look from Chris to Tommy and see his complete neutral expression you know is hiding a self-sastified interior.

After a pause, you respond, “Can’t see why I can say no to that.”

“Great.” Tommy claps his hands together, standing from his chair, “I gotta go find Maria, see you kids around.” Then he takes his leave quickly.

You and Chris watch him leave before turning to each other and sharing an awkward laugh.

“So, how long have you been in Jackson?” He asks.

“I’m sorry, could you just give me one minute? I’ll be right back.” You apologize, standing up and taking after Tommy, leaving Chris to watch you leave him as well.

You catch up to Tommy quickly, finding him pursuing the food in the kitchen. You grab him by the sleeve of his jean jacket and start dragging him away towards the back of the house.

He’s smart enough to follow wordlessly, letting you drag him out the back sliding door. You slam it shut behind you, instantly muffling the sound of the others and the music playing from the speaker softly.

“What the hell was that.” You demand.

Tommy takes a moment to respond, shifting his weight onto one leg.

“You know you could afford to be friendly with more people, make some friends, maybe even go on a date?” He starts, “You’ve never shown any interest in anyone in all the time you’ve been here. You’re just as bad as Joel. You can’t keep holed up in your house forever.”

You feel taken aback, and you don’t know what to say.

“I never asked you to be my match maker, I don’t want you to be my match maker.” Is all you say, before you leave, letting the door slam shut behind you.

Tommy is really getting on your nerves this week, you don’t know what’s gotten into him.

You need another glass of wine. When you nearly get back to the kitchen you steps falter and your heart drops.

There on either side of the kitchen island, are Joel and Jolene wrapped up in conversation. You watch Joel crack a smile and nod his head, crossing his arms over his chest. The blue sweater he’s wearing shows off his muscles, and his biceps bulge when he crosses his arms like that. Jolene laughs at something he says and grab his arm, lingering for a moment before retreating with a light tap.

You know Joel, and you know he’s not funny at all until he’s decided to trust you. That takes minimum six months.

Your stomach starts to burn too much to handle, and you turn on your heels and race up the stairs.

The upper floor is mercifully quiet, and you quickly go to hide in the bathroom. Shutting and locking the door, you force yourself to take deep breaths.

Why does your stomach churn like this? Why are your palms sweating and your chest aching?

You look at yourself in the mirror. You made sure to make yourself look cute as hell today. You’re wearing that black and white polka dot dress that shows off your curves and ends just shy of too short on your thighs. The one you know Joel loves.

And yet, despite all that effort, you feel worthless. Why do you feel like this?

You’re jealous. Let’s be real, you’re jealous and you want with all your heart to go downstairs and tell Jolene to never touch your man again.

But he’s not your man. You’re not officially dating, not even telling anyone. All you and Joel have discussed is that you wanted to take things slow. For all you know, you could be just fuck buddies.

You notice you’ve started glaring at yourself. You school your expression back into neutral and take a step back so you can smooth out any wrinkles in your dress. You give a quarter turn so you can check your backside. God you really look amazing in this.

An idea pops into your head, and with new confidence in your step, you open the door and head back downstairs.

There, you see Joel and Jolene still talking by the kitchen island.

You weave through the crowd to get to the kitchen, ignoring the both of them as you pour yourself another glass of wine. You take a sip of it before turning and crossing so you’re on the same side of Joel.

“Sorry.” You duck into their conversation, reaching with one hand across Joel pretending to reach for some food. As your hand passes the edge of the counter right in front of Joel, you knock into it and drop the glass, purposefully tipping it so it pours all down Joel’s lap before shattering at his feet.

“Shit.” You curse and immediately drop down, starting to pick up the big pieces of glass. Luckily it didn’t break into tons of pieces, mostly big chunks.

With your free hand, you grab Joel’s ankle so he looks down at you and you make deliberate eye contact. You see his questioning gaze, and give him a quick squeeze before dropping his leg to keep cleaning.

Joel helps you out and soon all the glass is thrown out.

“Shit, Joel, your pants.” You point out. Indeed there are muted red stains on the black denim.

“Here, let’s go upstairs so you can change and I’ll wash them out. I am so sorry.” You say, taking him by the arm and leading him away from the kitchen.

“Jolene do you mind finishing cleaning so no one slips, while I wash them?” You ask, giving a pleading tone to your voice.

Jolene looks a little dazed but nods anyways, “Oh course, no problem.” She gets up to go clean your mess while you lead Joel upstairs. No way bats an eye at you, your alibi worked perfectly.

You see Joel look at you, but you pretend not to notice.

Upstairs you push him into the bathroom and with a last glance to make sure no one is around, you close the door behind you and lock it.

Joel tilts his head at you, whispering your name in a half hearted scold.

You smile innocently at him, taking confident strides to close the gap. Toe-toe, you start undoing his belt, pulling the leather through the loops.

You feel his hand lift to land on your waist, thumb drawing gentle circles on your hipbone.

“Right now?” his voice sounds a little deeper, arousal quickly thickening it.

You nod your head deliberately, wide eyes blinking innocently.

“I need you.” you confess, feeling your heart rate quicken, and arousal pool in your center.

Joel rumbles in his chest before he replies, “What do you need from me?”

You take a brief moment to think of what you actually want, a clear thought popping into mind.

“I want you to fuck my face.” You confess. You see the reaction you wanted, his chest rising a little heavier, eyes a little darker, nose flared a little wider.

You begin to sink down onto your knees, keeping eye contact as you go down.

“Do you want to fuck my face, Joel?” you ask, looking up at him.

“If that’s what you want, darling.” He croaks out, hand going to the back of your head encouragingly, fingers rubbing in a circular motion, almost in a petting fashion

You continue by unzipping his fly, opening his jeans just enough. You press your palm against the mass of him, and gently massage through his underwear, hearing Joel’s sharp inhale.

You rub until you feel him start to harden, which doesn’t take too long. With one hand you pull down the elastic band and with the other you reach inside to pull him out. His skin is warm, and he fills your palm. He’s thick despite not being fully erect.

You shuffle a little closer on your knees, and lean in, purposely looking up at him, making sure he’s watching. You drag your tongue from base to tip, flicking at the tip, before repeating.

“Holy fuck.” He breathes, chest rising more rapidly, watching your pink tongue drag along his cock.

You use a hand to start stroking him, starting gentle and slow, using the flat of your tongue on his upper half to get him fully hard.

Joel’s fingers tighten in your hair, the other coming the join the first. You get the message and drop your hand, lips closing around his tip, his taste flooding your tastebuds.

Joel starts gentle. Using his hands to guide you up and down his length. He goes a little further each time, until eventually despite you opening your throat as much as possible, he gags you a tiny bit.  

Back and forth to that same spot until you don’t gag. And the next time he pulls you down, he goes a little deeper until you gag again. He repeats the process, getting you used to taking him deeper and deeper. All the while, giving you praises here and there. Groaned out “Fuck” and whispered “That’s it.”

He’s going faster and faster, and he starts bucking his hips in time while fucking you down onto his cock. When you make the occasional gag, you dig your hands into his thighs to keep him from stopping.

He pulls you off of him and you gasp for air, wiping the spit from your chin. You catch your breath quickly, before running the flat of your tongue up the underside of his cock, watching him groan and throw his head back.

Your lips seal back over his tip and Joel picks up his pace again. You do your best to swirl your tongue and keep from gagging, but your mind has blissfully checked out, and all you’re aware of is Joel standing above you, the weight and taste of his cock in your mouth and the aching pulse from your core.

You can tell he’s getting close, and you rip yourself off him, hands coming up to rapidly stroke him to keep him close to the edge.

“I want you to come on my face, Joel.” You plead, wrist twisting up and down his cock.

“Fuck, you sure?” He breathes, red tinting the top of his cheeks.

You respond by stroking him exactly the way you know he needs to push him over the edge. You shut your eyes just in time when you hear his telling groan.

He comes in thick ropes, hitting your cheek, your lips, your forehead, your hands never slowing throughout. You can tell Joel’s trying to be quiet, muffling his sounds of pleasure as best as he can.

“Fuck, if that ain’t a sight.” He breathes and you blink your eyes open, hand coming to a stop. You look up at him and smile wide for him.

Gently, you release him, and he tucks himself away before helping you to your feet. He turns the tap on, and wets a washcloth.

“You’re a mess.” He murmurs as he begins dutifully cleaning you up. You just stand there, basking in his attention.

Once you’re all clean, he grabs a hold of your face and peppers kisses over you, saving your lips for last.

When you part, you take a step back, “Ok mister, go get new pants and go down first, I’ll wash yours out.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He replies, giving you one last kiss before leaving the bathroom, closing the door behind him. You wash the wine out of the pants and then throw both them and the washcloth into the laundry. Which amazed you to no end when you first arrived that Jackson had enough electricity and water for people to use washing machines.

Your good mood lasts all the way until you get back downstairs, and are greeted with the sight of Jolene talking with Tommy and a few other people. All of a sudden all of your previous anxieties and worries came crashing back.

Your first instinct is to want to go find Joel, but you knew you can’t. You don’t want to arouse any more suspicion than you already have tonight. What you really need is to leave this party.

And so while no one is looking, you sneak out the back door, and escape through the backyard.

The late hour means you have the streets to yourself as you walk home, your thoughts in a weird turmoil of pleasure and self doubt.

When you approach your house, you see Sheryl sitting on the back porch, smoking. It’s not the first time you’ve caught her smoking, a habit you agreed to keep quiet about in front of Daryl.

“Hey.” You greet, sitting down besides her.

“How was your party?” She asks, exhaling a breath of smoke.

You shrug, tucking your hands underneath your thighs, “Was alright I suppose.”

She just gives you a look.

“What?”

“I know that tone. You’re upset about something and pretending nothing is wrong.”

“Jeez, what are you my mom?” You joke in an attempt to hide your awkwardness.

“No, but I am a mom of three, and a wife, and a human with ears.” She responds, putting out her smoke.

You dig the heel of your boot back and forth in the dirt. “There’s someone I like. Someone I think I might really like. But at the party someone else was talking with them, and it made me sad and mad at the same time. Then I felt stupid about feeling that way.” You confess.

Sheryl takes a moment to process your words, before she says, “Is it Joel Miller?”

You feel your heart drop and real fear floods your bones. “Uh, what-“ You start to stammer before she cuts you off, “I seen him come round here pretty often lately. Usually at night.”

“Fuck. Please, Sheryl. Don’t tell anyone, please-“ You start but she again cuts you off with a wave of her hand. “Honey, I ain’t gonna tell anyone. Ain’t my business to tell.”

You do feel a little relief at her words, you trust Sheryl, she keeps her promises.

She waits patiently for you to recollect yourself. “Do you think it’s wrong?” You finally ask.

Sheryl looks at you with a questioning gaze, so you supply “Because he’s older.”

She just snorts. “Honey, my husband is 12 years older than me. Honestly I don’t give a fuck.”

Her words make you crack a smile and she’ll never know how much they fill you with relief.

“So, who was at this party?” She prods further.

You heave a sigh just thinking about her, “One of the new members that came in a few weeks ago.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen one of them sniffing around him, in town recently.” She agrees.

“I’m just so worried he’ll realize how much better she is for him, than me. I just stand there and realize there’s nothing I can do, because he’s not really mine, and I’m not really his.”

“Why have you decided for him that she’s better for him, than you? Only he can make that decision.”

You can’t think of a good argument to that. 

“And about not knowing,” she continues, “it sounds like you’ve decided you’re his, now you just need to figure out if he’s decided he’s yours.”

A couple of heartbeats pass in silence as you think on her wisdom, before the two of you look up at the sound of footsteps around the corner of the house. There, who steps into view, is Joel.

“That’s a good sign.” Sheryl says quietly to you.

Joel nods his head at her, “Sheryl.”

She nods hers back, turning to you with a pointed look before rising to her feet, “Excuse me.” And she takes her leave, going around to the front to sneak back in the house.

“I wanted to see how you were doing.” Joel says, once the two of you are alone.

You nod your chin to indicate to follow and lead him to the stairs that lead to your basement suite. You two kick off your shoes before going down the stairs.

You sit down on a couch in the living area and he sits down next to you.

“I know you been unhappy the last few days.” He says. “And I think I know why.”

Again, shame floods you at your feelings you didn’t choose to feel. How you wish you were mature enough to not feel such silly attachment.

“I’m sorry Joel, I tried so hard not to show it, I know its stupid.”

Joel shushes you gently, before leaning in and pressing his lips to yours.

You heart bursts and you kiss him back. His hands brush your hair away from your face as he deepens the kiss, his tongue brushing against your bottom lip and you respond eagerly. One of your hands reaches up to cradle his head while the other rests on the center of his chest.

Eventually he breaks away so you can catch you breath, and he presses firm kisses up your face from your nose, between your eyebrows and on your forehead, pulling a giggle from you.

“Ain’t stupid.” He says, “In fact, it might be horrible to say, but I was a little flattered that you were jealous. Because I am yours.” He says while holding your hand on his chest and giving it a squeeze before his other hand rests on the crook of your shoulders. “And you are mine.” He says, giving your shoulder a squeeze.

You kiss him again in a rush, before breaking away soon after.

“Then if I’m really yours, I want you to take what’s yours.” You breathe out, waiting to see his reaction.

To say his reaction pleases you, would be an understatement, as he pulls you on top of him, holding your torso tight to his as he stands up. You legs wrap around his hips instantly as he carries you to your bedroom, your small laughs filling the room.

Once in your bedroom he carefully lets you down next to your bed, before shutting the door. Once he’s returned to you, you rush back into his arms to kiss him again. Your kisses turn furious quickly, the frustration and angst you’d been feeling turning into sexual frustration.

You nip at his lips between kisses, and you can feel him responding to your energy. You break apart with heaving chests.

“Joel, I need you to fuck the shit out of me.” You confess, breaths heavy.

Joel pauses at your words, crooking a finger under your chin to tilt your head up.

“You sure?”

You nod your head furiously.

“You want me to be rough with you?” He asks, his other hand pressing circles into your hip.

“Yes, Joel.” You’re closed to pleading, looking up at him with the biggest, tempting eyes you can manage.

You hear his rumble of approval at your enthusiasm.

“You know the deal. You let me know if you want to stop.” He says.

Again you nod because you don’t trust your voice not to squeak.

“Then be a good girl and take your clothes off.” He says, gently pushing you back a step so you have space.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look at you this intensely as you measuredly begin peeling one layer of clothes off at a time. You watch the entire time as Joel’s eyes darken as they trace over every inch of newly exposed skin you bare for him.

Heart thundering in your chest, you finally stand in front of him completely bare. The air on your skin along with him standing in front of you giving you goose bumps, your nipples tight as your chest heaves up and down with your laboured breaths. He hasn’t even touched you and you’re out of breath.

Finally Joel takes a step forward, one big hand resting flat along your collarbone while the other finally cups one of your aching breasts. His touch is warm, and oh so welcome when he starts massaging the fat of your breast while circling your nipple with his thumb as his other hand trails along your body, alighting your skin in its wake.

His one hand cups the front of your throat gently, it’s so big it easily engulfs it, fingertips almost meeting on the other side. You almost melt at the touch, thrusting your chin up to give him access.

You let him love on you for a while, stroking and rubbing along your upper body, leaning in to give you a quick kiss every once in a while. Until you can’t stand it any longer and your hands come up to his broad shoulders to shrug his jacket off, and he helps you get it to the floor and kicked besides your pile of clothes.

One wandering hand of his is back on your sternum and trails lower and lower, petting the soft flesh of your belly, before finally dipping lower. He cups you firmly, and growls when he discovers how wet you already are.

“Fuck girl, you’re always so wet for me.”

“Always for you, Joel.” You promise, shuddering out a breath when he parts your lips to start playing with your pussy with long fingers.

Standing with your feet fairly narrow means even one of his fingers burns a little when he pushes past your entrance, despite how wet you are. The burn is welcome, exactly what you need tonight. You need to be set on fire.

Joel slips his finger out, and you look at him with a look of disappointment. It doesn’t last long because Joel’s grabbing you and heaving you into the air to throw you like a rag doll onto the mattress. You bounce a few times, reorienting yourself to watch him strip the rest of his clothes.

Your eyes travel with glee down his chest, down to wait for him to get rid of his jeans. When he does, you see he’s thick and hard for you, and you feel your cunt clench at the sight of him.

“Glad I didn’t wear you out earlier, old man.” You tease, waiting for his reaction. His cheek twitches but other than that you don’t see anything else because he’s grabbing you by the shoulders to flip you onto your knees and pressing your face into the pillows.

Joel pushes your knees further apart to expose your gleaming cunt to him. Your back dips instinctively, pushing yourself higher to give him easier access.

Joel’s hands rub your ass, spreading you apart to see your tight hole he’s about to fuck into the mattress. One hand drops away, and you feel the tip of his finger push past your entrance again. You mewl into the pillow as he pushes all the way to the knuckle. So desperate for friction, you can’t resist to start rocking your hips.

“You’re needy.” Joel mumbles behind you. You just whimper when he withdraws from you.

You hear him spit, and then finally, what you recognize as the tip of his cock is rubbing along your pussy, dipping to your entrance to spread your slick around.

When he finally slides home, your jaw drops from the relief. He pulls out slowly, keeping only his tip fit snuggly in your cunt before pushing back in, just as slow.

This tempo makes you feel every ridge and vein along his cock as it pushes your walls to their maximum, the bump when he reaches the end of you making you ache in a pleasant way.

“Please, Joel.” You beg into the pillows. He responds instantly, snapping his hips against your ass. You jolt forward with a gasp, barely being able to recover because he’s fucking you for real now.

Over and over, he fucks his cock into your sopping pussy, so wet it’s dripping onto the sheets below you. The wetness adding to the damning sounds echoing around your room along with your whimpers and gasps and Joel’s grunts.

Joel isn’t holding back tonight, his fingers dipping into your hips, he’s slamming his full weight against you because he knows you’re strong enough to take it.

“Spread yourself for me, sweetheart.” He groans. You obey, one cheek flat on the mattress so you can breathe, you reach behind you and spread your ass for him.

Joel’s thrusts slow down again as he watches his thick cock disappear into your cunt, before pulling out, wetter.

“Your pussy lips don’t wanna let go of me.” He says, reaching a hand up to rub your clit while he leisurely fucks your tight slit.

Joel fists your hair and drags your head up, your hands dropping flat onto the mattress underneath you to ease the crank of your neck. He turns your head to the side, pointing you at the full length mirror you have next to your dresser.

You get drunk on the sight of you on your hands and knees, and him behind you, pumping his hips against yours. His chest bare, heaving, glistening with sweat. Your eyes follow the line of chest hair that travels down to his navel, leading to his cock, which you unfortunately can’t see from this angle, but you can certainly feel inside you.

Joel sits you both up, re-situating you, so you’re sitting in his lap, back leaning against his chest. His hands push your knees apart and in the mirror you can see the base of his cock pressed snuggly up against your pussy.

You moan at the sight, and then again when he starts moving you up and down his cock, rolling his hips to rub you in the perfect way. The visual combined with the feeling ,causes a shudder to course through your body.

Suddenly, with both hands on your waist, Joel pulls you completely off him and the unsatisfied feeling of emptiness rushes over you. Joel rests his shinning cock, flat against your belly, and you see in the mirror just how deep he goes.

“Fuck.” You moan out, hand reaching down to stroke him as you find the right angle to grind your clit against his cock. “I can’t believe you fit inside me.”

Joel growls against your neck, letting you have your fun grinding against his cock beforelifting your hips high enough to sink you back down onto him. You watch with rapt as his length disappears inside you, feeling him throb against your tight walls.

He starts fucking up again, one hand reaching down to rub your clit. You watch his fingers work you over and feel the sparks of pleasure reach their peak before you’re falling over the edge, your cunt spasming around his cock.

“Fuck, good girl.” He praises.

Joel flips you back onto your stomach, trembling knees supporting you. He fucks you harder and harder. You’re too exhausted to do anything other than mewl into the pillows while you take it.

“I’m gonna cum, sweetheart.” Joel gasps between grunts and growls.

“Fuck, Joel, cum, please. Anywhere.” You manage to get out, your sentences fragmented.

Soon, Joel is pulling out and cumming all over your ass. From your spread kneed position, you can feel his cum start to slide down your asshole, dripping off your cunt while you wait for him to finish.

He breathes a long breathe, and you hear, “Gimme a sec.” And you feel him climb off the bed.

You’re content to stay like that, with your ass in the air, his cum drying on your skin while you wait.

He comes back and cleans you up thoroughly and finally you collapse to your stomach.

You’re too tired to get up, so you lie there with your eyes closed while Joel walks around, shutting the door and turning the lights off.

You maneuver under the covers when he lifts them for you and he settles in besides you. You immediately huddle against his warmth, resting your cheek against his chest and you feel him press a kiss to the top of your hair.

Your jaw stretches into a huge yawn. All self doubts have been fucked out of your head.

“Was that what you wanted?” Joel mumbles, sleep dragging at his voice.

“It was perfect. Exactly what I needed.”

“Good.” He hums.

There’s silence, but just as you’re about to fall asleep, a thought pops into your head.

“Oh, by the way, I kinda have a date with Chris.”

A/N: I worked really hard on this, so I hope you guys enjoyed it. Any comments welcome. Thanks for reading :)

#joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x female reader #tlou fanfiction #tlou smut #my writing #joel miller

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cookiepie111 · 7 months

Text

˚₊✩‧₊Fountain girl ˚₊✩‧₊

König x black reader

König walks around restlessly on Halloween night.

Present --------》 skip to the past

A/N-This is just a short fic. I'd like to thank 2 people for these fics first @terra-713 for the original nymph, water woman /Hephaestus post @cinnamonbunboii for the second part of the the nymph fic, When I saw their reblog i rushed to write it. The other post should be coming out soon ( I promise the second half is better😭) not proofread

It's Halloween night and this poor man is wondering streets

He misses his Aphrodite, a woman that was never really his. The hugging, kisses, smiles, gifts those all consistute as things one does with their lover, in a relationship right?

He poured out his feelings to her, and he opened up his heart to her, spilling out the weak feelings that brought him shame. Was he supposed to believe that all that meant nothing. That him, his feelings weren't returned that the smiles, kind smile and words were just platonic.

It makes his stomach turn just thinking about it. Clinging tightly to his arm dropping kisses all over him, giggling, cooing at each other without a care in the world. He cant explain it but its like he walked in on his partner cheating he feels the same emotions shock hurt anger but when he gets angry when goes to rip the two of the apart, to complain to those around him, nothing. Its like no cares brushing him off and laugh, looking at him with confusion. König and her were never really going out, so what's the problem

It could be worse right, he could be roaming the streets on valentines, bumping into whatever unfortunate man wasn't watching their step. König knows in his frustration he'd beat the man to a pulp without a second thought, break their poor girls heart like he wanted to do to her . But it's Halloween, this was better. He could get drunk, beat,scare whoever, get rowdy with no real problems.

Yet he's been aimless for hours, nothing but alcohol filling his stomach as he walks the streets.

It's only on the third loop around the town fountain. Something peaks his interest, something different, enough to make him stop, to momentarily quil his anger.

Another benefit of Halloween is the girls and their tight skimpy outfits könig never been so grateful for a holiday, eating up the sight before him.

All of sudden könig very sure of the drinks he's had they hit him all at once distorting the space around you, fluorescent lights shining like fake stars around you. You're so beautiful, thick curly hair, like small currents wash over your shoulder. Your skin wet from the splash of the fountain. So peaceful and tranquil eyes glossed at the ground below you, he wonders if you're real, if you are you're not human, No human is this beautiful.

God he didn't know where to keep his eyes, you chest or legs. Bare Corset held your breasts together so well, scaning down that skirt, what a joke it was a belt at best but he got to enjoy the full show of your legs on full display. It a while about scaning your body 5 time before he noticed the crocked fairy wings behind you, cleary beat from the dancing you've done throughout the night.

Maybe like Hephaestus this was just him getting his nymph his new lover,Cabeiro or like Hylas he'd he dragged to his death and drown in another terrible relationship. He's hoping the first, he doesn't think he can take another heart break

It's daze in a moment he finds himself at your front, and for the first time, you look up at him, soft, droppy eyes, you let out a small sound as he stands before you. Seeing you like he can feel the blood rush south.

God he's hard

He must be drunk cause he thinks you're the most beautiful, he thinks he's in love, last week he was in love too. how fickle and weak is his love

#könig x black reader #könig x reader #x black reader #cod x reader #call of duty x black reader #cod x black reader #könig #könig mw2 #my writing #call of duty x reader #cod x y/n

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monsieur-kazzle-dazzle · 8 months

Note

For the Zutara prompt:

Riding a rollercoaster for the first time.

“Come on, Zuko, it’ll be fun!” she called after him, running towards the machine. He hesitated.

“I don’t know Katara, are you sure it's safe?” he eyed the strange contraption suspiciously. Katara rested a hand on his arm.

“Don’t feel any pressure to go. You can always wait here and watch our things if you really don’t want to go on it. But I’m sure it's safe, or they wouldn’t be allowed to put it up.” he opened his mouth to answer, when he was nearly knocked over by Aang and Sokka who were wasting no time getting in line.

“This’ll be just like Omashu!” They could hear Sokka exclaiming excitedly as they hurried to get a good seat. Toph sauntered up, making a show of looking between the two of them in mock curiosity.

“Sparky, don’t tell me you’re scared?” Zuko sighed.

“I’m not scared, I just-” Toph cut him off, lowering her voice to an oddly accurate imitation of his voice.

“Oh I forgot,” she rasped. “Dying on a whatchamacallit,”

“A rollercoaster?” Katara offered, quirking her lip in that way that always made him soften. Toph nodded.

“Yeah that thing.” She resumed her Zuko impression. “Dying on a rollercoaster has no honour! I must die with honour!”

“Very funny.” Zuko shook his head, smiling. “I’ll go on it, but we’re sitting as close to Aang as possible.” Katara chuckled slightly, squeezing the hand he’d slipped into hers. They began walking towards the coaster.

“Aren't you coming, Toph?” Katara asked, turning to see the younger girl kicking it back in what was practically a throne made of earth.

“Nah, are you crazy? I don’t wanna die! Even with my metalbending, I’m staying right here, where I can see.” Zuko facepalmed, and Katara laughed gently.

“C’mon guys! It's about to start!” Aang called from the front of the coaster where he and Sokka were sitting, eagerly awaiting the start of the ride. Grumbling loudly, Zuko allowed himself to be dragged by the hand to the last two available seats, right in the middle. As the ride began, Katara slipped her hand into his, and he squeezed it gratefully, scowling down at where Toph and Momo relaxed in identical stone thrones. The ride unexpectedly jolted into action, causing Zuko to let out an involuntary gasp. Katara giggled as the coaster began its climb.

“You’re adorable.” she laughed, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. “If we fall, I have enough water to ice-slide us back down to the ground. And who knows? Maybe Toph would catch us.” She seemed to notice his worried face, and hastily added “Not that I think we’re going to fall. Listen, Zuko. I’m so sure this is safe that if we do fall or something goes wrong I’ll eat an entire pouch of your fire flakes. That's how sure I am.” Zuko laughed, clutching her hand even tighter as the roller coaster neared the top of the track.

“You and your weak little taste buds,” he teased, and she laughed.

“It's not my fault you hotheads over in the fire nation like to put so much spice in your food that smoke comes out of your ears!” she retorted, nudging him in the side. He opened his mouth to respond, when all of a sudden the coaster reached the top of the hill and began speeding up and down the track with what Zuko considered not enough regard to gravity. He swore, gripping Katara’s hand so hard he could hear the waterbender beside him gasp slightly. He loosened his grip, mumbling an apology as the ride began its slow ascent to the second and final loop of the ride. She squeezed his hand back, pressing another kiss to his cheek. “That bad?” she asked, peering over at him with a slightly guilty look in her eye. He shook his head.

“No, I think I may have overreacted slightly.” he admitted sheepishly. “It really isn't much different from riding Appa when he’s tired.” Katara laughed, and Zuko felt a familiar fluttering in his stomach, which was quickly replaced by a large swooping feeling as they hurtled down the track. Zuko forced himself to open his eyes, allowing himself to appreciate the view. The rest of the festivities in the surrounding town, Toph and Momo surrounded by small children, Sokka and Aang up at the front with their arms in the air, and finally, Katara beside him, her hair billowing behind them as she whooped. He enjoyed the second loop much better, once he’d gotten over his initial skepticism. That didn’t stop his legs from shaking as he stepped off the ride, or the rush of relief he felt as his feet made contact with the ground. “That was actually kind of fun.” he admitted to Katara as they made their way towards Toph and the small crowd she’d somehow drawn.

“Does that mean you wanna go again?” Katara laughed, as he shook his head firmly.

“Absolutely not. Never again.” Zuko chuckled, leaning down to steal a quick kiss.

#zutara #zuko #katara #zuko x katara #avatar the last airbender #atla #avatar #zutara fanfiction #rollercoaster #fanfiction #fanfics #fic #toph beifong #sokka #momo atla #aang #hope you enjoyed!

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sealorrica · 3 months

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Bliss

(Act 3 Spoilers) Shadowheart x f!Tav cafe short

“How… How does it look?” Shadowheart asked, stepping into the doorframe with an embarrassed blush on her cheeks. Over her dark day clothes, she wore a crisp, new apron with frilly edges tied into a thick bow behind her waist. Tav had been working to convince her for over a month now that it would be useful at their work: a small hole-in-the-wall cafe in the middle of the city. They had opened only at the beginning of the year, but Shadowheart had managed to stain nearly every outfit she wore as she learned how to properly prepare their goods. Whether it was thick, powdery flour for cakes or the hot grounds of Chultan coffee beans, she had somehow managed to get it all over herself. ‘We didn’t spend our time baking and making drinks at the Cloister,’ she would say, obviously self-conscious about her current lack of skill. But she would brush herself off and get right back to it. Every time, her brows would furrow and she would frown in what looked like annoyance, but was actually deep focus. Tav couldn’t remember seeing anything more adorable. At least, not until now. Shadowheart was standing in the morning light, her face heating every second that Tav didn’t answer. Tav herself had been eating her breakfast before Shadowheart suddenly walked in, wearing that frilly thing. She raised a fist to her mouth to hide a mirthful smile, though the corners still peeked out, upturned. “Why not do a little spin? So I can see the back too.” Shadowheart scoffed. “I’ve already put this on. Don’t push your luck.” Tav sighed in feigned disappointment. She put her fork on her plate and stood up. Shadowheart followed with her eyes as Tav walked over to her, then held back from yelling an obscenity when Tav laid her hands on Shadowheart’s hips. Very sincerely, because she didn’t want to upset her wife, but also because she meant it, Tav said, “You look wonderful. You remind me every day why I’m the luckiest person to be your partner.” Tav moved her hands to Shadowheart’s head and captured her in a very gentle kiss. Shadowheart wanted to keep being embarrassed, to have a reason that wearing the apron was a stupid idea and she should have never done it, but she instead felt a few tears burning her eyes. It would have been easier if she were indignant, but how could she be when the person who had practically saved the world loved her so? The person who had been by her side through the most taxing trials of her life? Who had saved her and her parents after forty years of unremembered torment? There was no answer to this question, and so Shadowheart looped her arms around Tav’s neck and kissed her in return. They no longer adventured, their daily lives having became very mundane by comparison. But, they thought, this must be bliss.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #fanfic #>500 words #post-game they open a cafe lol #based on a friend's idea #ficlet #cross posted on ao3

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mobius-m-mobius · 6 months

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Thank you so much for replying to my anon ask! And please don't apologize for your long reply. I LOVE IT!

Sylvie has every right to build and explore the kind of love she wants, but I think she lacks self-awareness in her "call-out" of Mobius, which is why Loki calls /her/ out in the next scene, reminding her that the only reason she's at the TVA is because she couldn't kill Victor, not because she actually wanted to /help/.

I sent an ask to @bebx that I hope you don't mind that I copy/paste here, because that blow up about pie sets up Mobius narratively in the next 2 episodes.

Let's talk about the TVA seal. If Loki was the original founder of the TVA before HWR takes over and performs a memory-wipe, the dagger represents Loki, the hourglass/Mobius strip represents Mobius, the shield looks like it might actually be a mask, which can represent Sylvie, who has a gift for enchantments. All 3 of them need to be on the same page to succeed.

Speaking of Sylvie, a word on the pie scene: from a plot perspective, this was Mobius's lowest point. He must feel worthless and good for nothing. This is actually critical for c when Loki finds him: I think Mobius might decline going back, not necessarily because his life before TVA was any better, but because he will likely think he will cause more harm then good, and that the only thing he's good at is selling jet skis, which can't possibly harm anyone.

Loki, because he didn't say anything during the confrontation with Sylvie, will be compelled to tell him that's absolutely not true. Loki will tell Mobius that his kindness and his believing in him changed everything. Perhaps, if we're lucky, we'll get some kind of love confession. Loki might say he can't save the timeline alone and he /wants/ Mobius at his side. Thus, Loki believing in Mobius causes Mobius to believe in Loki. When his memories get wiped in the future by HWR, his love Loki (romantic or platonic) will be an echo of his love for jet skis. He won't remember why he loves Loki, he just knows he dies because he did before. Thus closing the loop and fulfilling the snake eating its own tail. Who saved who?

Lastly, For All Time, Always had been presented as an ominous slogan. I believe this is actually a pact Loki, Mobius and Sylvie make among themselves to protect all timelines and free will. When HWR invades the TVA and perfoms the memory wipe, the slogan becomes perverse. I bet the pruning sticks, magic dampeners, collars, and torture devices were brought into the TVA by him. He is an inventor, after all.

Also, in rebuilding the TVA's facilities (which will take some powerful magic, magic that would create a place that would impress a post-NY Loki), Mobius might request Loki and Sylvie for a pie automat and hot chocolate dispenser. Because stress. Sylvie might use her magic to grant his wish as a peace offering.

Oh hi! Lovely to meet you and of course, such a pleasure to read and reply to 😊

Really wish there was more thought put into Sylvie's direction this season because at this rate there hasn't been any depth into the time she's been spending at the McDonald's branch which she seemed to be enjoying building a routine at, in comparison to suddenly going back to trying to chase He Who Remains variants while constantly telling everyone at the TVA they're dragging her back in while *she's* following them around?

Her not knowing what to do with herself makes sense considering her life had been dedicated to revenge until now but I just can't connect in any way when her one firm goal has been protecting all timelines enough to give the people there chances to live full lives and no matter the terrible history she has with the TVA, they're the only entity capable of ensuring that. Would never expect her to like the place or anyone there but they've already proven they're now working to preserve and she has no other plan to offer than burning everything to the ground which isn't an option while the loom's at such a critical level so her repeatedly ignoring what's right in front of her is feeling more than a little pointless.

(here we go again haha, adding a read more for everyone's sake!)

Don't mind at all and completely agree about the narrative being set specifically to explore the mindset Mobius has been in all season as well as his perspective on finding out his past. Still debating on whether he has any awareness of the TVA when we see him again and am leaning heavily toward him being the original version of himself with no knowledge of Loki or anything else that's happened so I'd love to see how Loki convinces him or if there's any kind of inherent connection or understanding lingering between them anyway?? But if he does have access to his memories I really do think he'd want to take a step back after watching Loki go after Sylvie after the pie situation.

Which would therefore lead to Loki going into detail about the conversation he had with Sylvie defending Mobius and all he's done for not just everyone on the branches but himself as well and I really do think there's going to be a mutual confession regarding how they've changed each other for the better whether it's during the process of Loki getting Mobius' memories back or afterwards when they're (hopefully) fully back to the versions we've gotten to know and love.

I noticed the detail of the TVA seal when it got cracked and couldn't believe it didn't hit me earlier, lol! A dagger and a Möbius strip, how poetic 🥺 As for the third member making up the timekeepers I'm open to however it goes but can't help rooting for B-15 to have the position simply because she's such a strong person with true faith in what the TVA and be and accomplish and I think she's earned the spot but I could see Sylvie reluctantly coming around to the goals of a reformed TVA enough to lend her magic to certain elements of the design and do like to think every Loki can't help but have a soft spot for every Mobius so you may very well be right as to how so many sweets ended up in the TVA 😂

Still confusing me is how and when exactly HWR eventually enters the picture and takes control, and where Loki or Sylvie are at that point since Mobius, B-15, and Casey have clearly still been working there but think you're absolutely right about HWR having invented and introduced the more dangerous and controlling elements of the place.

Finally I just have to say I think we'll absolutely get a "For All Time, Always" exchanged between Loki and Mobius right before the series ends and you have no idea how here for it I am, really just want the two of them accepting how much good they can do at the TVA and when they're together so can't wait to see where the series eventually takes us!

#loki spoilers #once again thank you for such an amazingly in depth ask!!#adore theorizing about the show but don't usually have the instinct or bravery to post much of what's on my mind so this has been fun #hope you've got a great day and amazing week ahead 🥰💖#ask

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slimeranch7 · 1 year

Text

vampire ei x reader

Hey bro thanks for the request!!! I'm happy to share more thoughts on monsterfucking. It's a guilty pleasure…. 🤪

ao3 link

Content warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, dubcon/coerced sex, mentions of blood/gore, mentions of r*pe

-----

Vampires are said to be elusive and highly territorial. That being said, it's not unheard of for them to live in pairs or more. It's just an extremely rare case.

You gambled that every time you took a bounty to wipe out a vampire that had been terrorizing a small town. Vampire hunting had its own merits, if the ring of harvested fangs hanging on your belt is anything to go by. It earns you enough cold, hard cash to last months, and the gratitude of locals wherever you go.

And with merits come dangers. Taking on one is enough to leave you scratched up for the worst. A lone human can't handle two alone, even with the best equipment or the most experience. Even if you managed to finish one, the other would tear you to shreds in an instant, and the blood from their harvest would be enough to undo the damage you've caused.

This is the gamble you took. And like most games based on chance, you're bound to lose the more you roll.

The info broker hadn't mentioned a second one when he sent you the files. All the locals told you the same thing- long, purple hair and a single pair of violet eyes that crackled in the dark like thunder and lightning. Adorns a stoic, yet somber expression, based on what survivors were able to make out. Not that you could really understand their babbling much more than that. Most trailed off into a religious chant you couldn't quite discern, but one thing's for sure- this fight wouldn't be easy.

On the ground is the Raiden Shogun, and a heavy wooden stake that took all your strength and fight to run straight through her chest. The browning blood splattered on her coat was yours. Vampires didn't bleed. Freezing black mist exuded around her wound, something you could never get used to no matter how battle hardened you've grown to be.

On your side was a borrowed cross from the local church that had been bent out of use from her strength. Your crossbow has been battered as well, strings frayed and definitely in need of heavy maintenance.

Legs pinning both of her sides down, you huff, giving the stake another push to drive it in further for good measure before cold, sharp fingers curl around the back of your neck.

Your breath stops, condensate disappearing into the frosty air.

"Mm. That's it. Now, up." You could feel the way her fingers slowly drag against your skin, pressing . "Slowly."

You move in tandem with her force, like a leash pulling you up until your back straightens, heart sized in your throat and nerves frozen shut. You don't dare to object. You couldn't. Or you could just die fighting for your freedom.

It's an instinctual fight or flight response. In this case, flight immediately leads to fight, so for a moment, you revel in the adrenaline pumping through your vessels, pray to the lord for strength and protection and pull out a hidden cross in your inner coat in hopes to repel the grasp on your neck-

Only for it to get fruitlessly slapped away by the vampire that shouldn't even be alive below you. It lands hopelessly far from your reach, and your wrists throb in punishing pain from the sheer force of her hands.

When your eyes turn down, not daring to move your head with how tight the grip on your neck has gotten, the Raiden Shogun's eyes glare violet as she pulls the stake out with a pained hiss. The only sound you've heard from her since the fight began.

"I must say, quite capable of you, to be able to land such an ugly gash on my beauty. Many like you have pitifully died by her hands, without leaving so much as a scratch." The lady behind you speaks in such an eloquent manner unlike the feral, bloodthirsty beasts you've slain in the past. "Oh dear,"

You can feel her other hand loop around your waist, fiddling with the ring of fangs you've once proudly adorned like a trophy. In one swift movement, she plucks it from your belt. Now, it's nothing more than a warrant for your demise.

"How very obnoxious." She hums thoughtfully. "Teeth, dull. Those lowlifes don't deserve to be displayed on this chain. They can't even maintain their fangs properly. Unsightly."

The ring rattles, and from the corner of your eye, you watch in silence as she flicks it off to the side.

"Now, I believe you took something that belonged to the Shogun." She continues. Her nails, like claws, press even further, daring you to swallow down your fear.

Below, while you were still straddling her hips, the Raiden Shogun sat up, one hand pressed against her wound in futility, and the other snaking around the small of your back, pulling you in closer.

She closes in so suddenly that you don't have the time to squeeze your eyes shut to brace for the terror of being eaten alive.

White, searing hot pain flashes through your eyes and your hands- moving on their own, instinctually latching onto anything as an anchor to keep you floating off into the abyss. Somewhere in the crevices of your panic-addled mind, you know it's your neck she's punctured, but it's almost as if every point of your body collectively decided to share the same caliber of pain.

Breathing is impossible, your mouth heaves dryly, begging for air that doesn't come, and your nose is assaulted by the tangy malodor of your own blood.

You can't say for sure how long the terrible experience lasted for. It felt like it had been hours and mere seconds simultaneously, but when she finishes- and you know she does because she licks your wound- your hands immediately fly to your neck as an instinct to apply pressure, only to find it clean and fully clotted like the puncture had been healing for days.

But wait, why were you still conscious? Were you dead? You could be, for all that mattered.

"The merit of proper maintenance. It keeps our meals' mess to a minimum." The voice behind you pipes up again, though it's significantly foggier, like your ears had been clotted. "And as long as you're alive, our saliva will help clot the blood at increased speed. But, most don't to live to tell the tale."

Words, words, words. She sounded like the lecturers at those fancy institutes. You couldn't respond anyway, the lack of blood finally catching up as the stimulant effect of adrenaline wears out.

"Now, stand and we will return to my estate at once. I would like to get to know you better."

You were then hoisted to your feet, much to your brain's weak protest. The moment they let go to let you stand on your own, the world swayed and swung upside down and you felt your head collide with snow and frozen dirt. It did not hurt, or if it did, you weren't lucid enough to feel it anymore.

As the rest of your senses dulled, your eyes managed to catch the faintest detail, though it's hard to discern if it's the lack of oxygen that blurred the lines of reality or if it really was the truth- the two figures standing before you looked nearly identical.

-----

You hardly dreamed, but when you did, you imagined retirement to be a well earned paradise by the beach, all on your lonesome, and a humble wooden shack sitting on the treeline, facing the waves. Your toes would sink pleasantly into smooth, ash-like sand, waves rolling in tantalizing motions off in the distance. The air would be salty yet brings a refreshing change of pace, and the only bits of life accompanying you would be oceanside critters.

But the sad reality is, most vampire hunters don't live long enough to watch their children grow up, let alone hit retirement age. It's a dangerous and thankless, commission-based job taken on because of family tradition or by those only desperate enough for mora. Anyone suicidal enough to face vampires head on signed their life away for every bounty they take. You're no different.

Then why dream of something so far out of reach?

To you, it was better than falling into the hands of alcoholism and tobacco dependence like everyone else.

When you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, the terrible, cruel world would melt away. Firstly, it was the salty, cold seaside air that would fade into a pleasant, smokey firewood scent accompanied by what seemed to be mild floral perfume.

Secondly, opening your eyes proved to be difficult with how lethargic your muscles felt. You felt your heavy eyelids twitch, slowly cracking open to adjust to the dim light, and though you knew it was merely a fire crackling away, to your pounding headache addled head, it was a million suns assaulting your senses.

Thirdly, when you craned your neck, everything in your body screamed for reprieve. But one thing is for certain: the gut deep fear that registered not a second after.

The bite, it's the after effects that nearly sent you back into shock. And before that, you had lost a fight against not one, but two vampires. Was it two, now? It sure felt like it.

You tell yourself that this very moment was a dream, but what was the fading memory of an oceanside retirement before? And the cold fingers that wrapped cruelly around your neck? The searing hot torment coursing through your nerves was enough to prove that this is reality. And if that wasn't enough, the same voice of the women that gripped your neck moments before flooded your ears.

"I must admit, I almost feared that you would no longer wake." She said. Soft, embroidered lavender fabric filled your limited, sideways view as she stepped closer. You felt a cold hand rest briefly on your cheek, lifting as quickly as it came. "I am not experienced in human medical knowledge, but your skin turned nearly as pale and cold as mine from the outdoors. I didn't think you would recover so quickly."

So again, despite having cleared up with yourself that this was reality, new information presented before you had flipped everything you thought you knew, right upside down. Vampires don't save humans. Vampires don't care if humans recover quickly or not from the cold frosty air of the northeast. Vampires don't fear, and frankly, they don't speak with such eloquence. And you certainly should not be lying on a vampire's couch across a fireplace, layered by thick, heavy blankets warmed by your recovered body heat.

She could have very well left your dying corpse to freeze outside. A vampire of her caliber could have very well hunted for other game instead of waiting for a vampire hunter, armed with crosses and stakes, to recover from blood loss.

You reached from underneath the blankets to see if they had disarmed you, only to find that not only have they disposed of your equipment, but they also likely have disposed of your clothes along with it. Not even a scrap of undergarments to preserve your modesty. You can feel the way the blanket rubs embarrassingly against your bare skin.

Despite your throbbing headache, you sat up with nothing more than your life to lose, yet shamefully still holding the blanket up to your chest. "Were you always this talkative?"

The lady before you blinked in surprise, stoicism replaced by what you could only interpret as wonder. She tilted her head curiously.

Dread pools in your stomach at the silence she answered with. "... I mean, you didn't say a word when I tried to…" Your nerves got the better of you, but perhaps it would be unwise to bring up past affairs that didn't work in your favor.

Her face then twisted into amusement. "Ah, but of course. Who you confronted was not me, but the Shogun. She is not the talkative type at all. Neither am I, but at least I can still make for better company."

Is this your purpose for being sustained alive even when vampires are known to dispose of dried blood bags after their hunts? So whatever this imitation of the Raiden Shogun could talk your ear off as you inconspicuously eyed windows and doors for escape routes?

When you searched her eyes for answers, she, yet again, returned void. In fact, it almost felt unreal how human the Shogun look-alike seemed to be with her composed, gentle demeanor. Whereas the one you faced in a life-or-death fight- she bore no traces of humanity, only brutal, mechanical movements with the singular objective of efficiently ridding you of your existence.

"While some vampires come to be by birth, some were… infected, as I would put it." She began, suddenly, circling a low table to feed more logs into the fire. "My name is Ei, and I was once human. I enjoyed sweets, then. But as you might know, human food does not hold the same taste nor nutrients as it would to a vampire."

Questions swarm your head like incessant flies, but one keeps popping up. Your mouth opens before you can think, "Why are you telling me this?"

"Hush, allow me to continue, if you will. Firstly, I feel that it is vital to inform you that you are not the first. You are free to perceive this as a threat or as consolation, though I greatly suggest the latter, for your sake, and, perhaps rather selfishly, for mine."

No matter how much solace she expected to bring you with such foreboding warnings, the fact that you weren't the first for whatever sick game she was about to instill upon you, in combination with the fact that you have not once heard any tale of the Raiden Shogun's identical double feeling inclined to impose sick games onto hunters after their bounty, drove you even further into a pit of worry and desperation. Her phrasing wasn't important- it would never be, because vampires posed a natural threat to your survival from the get-go.

"Secondly, you shall not reject any of my advances. Not that you would want to, of course, and I recommend that you don't, from my experience. But on the off chance that you do, my dear Shogun does not care for trivial matters such as sweets. Your pleasure will not dictate the measures she will take to ensure your compliance."

It's almost as if she were purposefully baiting you into folding. You almost feel foolishly inclined to insist that she hurries along her long, disconcerting list of terms, but the rational- albeit cowardly- side of you firmly argues to stay silent and entertain her with no pleasure of watching you tremble like a petal.

She takes your silence for acceptance, it seemed. “As I had said, I greatly adored sweets. It has been rumored by others of my kind that human pleasures tend to sweeten the blood for the better.” Her eyes flicker over to you. “I have sampled a multitude of different flavors myself, each with varying levels of sweetness and purity. But you,"

She circles back, not unlike a shark smelling fresh blood in the water. "Your blood is unblemished by tobacco and alcohol. Those impurities have always tainted my marks, no matter how much sweetness I wring out of them."

You've stopped listening at this, cringing at the implications of her absurd statements. Treating your predecessors like gourmet meals just as humans did with livestock. Most hunters drank and smoked- those vices greased the wheels for them. You either indulged, or you would succumb to the stress and anxiety that came as a package deal.

She must've known. She's a vampire, after all, and their heightened senses must have turned you into a mouth watering meal, comparable to ripe fruit kept free of disease and pests.

Your thoughts run back to the last tavern you drank at, that reeked of sweat and cheap beer. The alcohol was bitter and foul, so utterly indigestible that you gave the rest of your mug away to a drunk stranger and proceeded to rinse your mouth clean in the privacy of your own room. And before that, your mentor had offered a cigar after your first successful hunt, but the post-traumatic stress that poisoned your mind had you retching and regurgitating whatever lunch you had managed to stomach as soon as you inhaled. Even now, the consideration of downing a pint of beer or indulging in a smoke makes you shudder.

"So you're going to rape me?" You spit out, half considering her terms.

"That is putting it extremely. But I won't have to if you oblige. Perhaps I'll even spare you, if you behave." Her smile twists up sardonically.

"Would you let me go if my flavor is not up to your gourmet standards?"

"Hardly even a question. I would feed you to the Shogun. It would be up to her what she would want to do with you." Her honesty renders her fully transparent leaving no room for further inquiry. This is a waltz she knows well. You aren't sure if you should feel safe or terrorized by how casually she handled your interrogation.

"... Will you be gentle?"

For once, genuine surprise returns to replace her cold, distant resting expression.

"It's… I," Would it be better to keep this to yourself? Perhaps you could rouse pity if you were honest. "I've never been with anyone…"

"Not even yourself?"

You flushed at the implication of her rebuttal. Admittedly, you've tried before, in the safety of a rented room of a tavern. But judging from how little you've achieved by yourself, the safer answer would be no. "Look, if that's an issue, then just kill me right now and spare me the humiliation." You bite back. "It won't be pleasant for me regardless."

Ei leans over, fangs hovering just above the shell of your ear. "A rare purity of soul, body and mind. It seems I've struck gold." She whispered, sending cold, hollow chills down your clammy skin. "Do not fret, little lamb. I did hold a preference towards women before my time as a vampire. Your pleasure means all the more value to me."

If that was a lie, it did not matter to you.

-----

Ei reminded you of the noblewomen you've met in your time serving as a commissioned bounty hunter. They were regal, elegant and held their chin up high with unwavering confidence despite being overshadowed by their husband's status. To you, it seemed admirable, though you could never compare your social footing to theirs. Sometimes you wondered if they had always been the ones pulling the strings from the shadows.

But Ei- she was different. When she rose to full mast, her poster demanded attention and respect and you instantly knew she was the head of her own estate. Her height was overpowering and dizzying, and though her muscles were lithe, you had no issue accepting the fact that the vampire could fold you with ease.

When Ei peeled the sheets that held your warmth away, you did not dare to struggle, lest you incur her wrath. However, you did shiver from the sudden gust of cold air as your core temperature plummeted despite the warm fire nearby, almost immediately shriveling up like an insect. As soon as you curled in your limbs to protect your warmth (and modesty, though it was pointless, you knew), her strong, boney hands wrestled your legs open like a pliant play doll baring your holes for her to view at her pleasure.

And despite your bewilderment, she offered no words of solace, but only drank in the sight of your untouched pussy with animal hunger present in her eyes and an unfriendly, sinister smile. "Do not be afraid of me, my little lamb." She whispered, smelling the bitter musk of terror oozing from your glands. "It does you no favors to serve me such an unappealing meal." Her cold fingers trace around your untouched clit.

It's hard to teach yourself something you had no knowledge in. In your trade, every clever trick in the book you absorbed from observing your mentor, and if it didn't work, then you wouldn't live to tell the tale. Likewise, attempting to stimulate yourself without knowing what to do had gotten you nowhere, but when the Ei gathered up your slick and gently pressed into your pussy, it took you damn near everything not to combust on the spot.

"Poor thing, so desperate to seek the pleasure you could not find yourself." She stated cruelly, and it was like instinct, to allow such a monster to devour you whole. No one else's appendages, human or not, could ever provoke the same, blinding pleasure that spiked your core like fireworks. The expertly timed circles around your throbbing clit and the shallow dip of her fingers worked wonders on your rapidly deteriorating psyche.

It was not enough. It could not be enough because you could still see the rest of her pale, slender hand, resting just outside your greedy cunt when it should be buried deep by the innards of your burning flesh-

Sweaty hands immediately sought purchase on her forearm, hoping to pull her in for more. Cold, black mist seeped through your fingers, through her broken skin. "Careful now, you might be biting off more than you can chew." She warned you, but made no effort to pull away as you accepted more and more of her. Your stomach lurched, chest heaving to make up for it and throwing your head back as white flooded your vision.

Although your lips spasmed against the intrusion from overstimulation, your spine arched into her touch, hips greedily searching for more. Immediately, she forces down your entire body back into the plush comfort of the sofa. "What a pliant, little lamb you are. So willing to accept what most of your kind have struggled so valiantly against at first. Tell me, then, were you always this depraved?"

"Nu-ah! No, it's- I'm not…"

"Or, is it how I fuck this tight, little virgin cunt of yours?" Her wrists flick in tandem with your hips, easily matching your erratic pace. She must've felt the way you clenched up at her dirty words. Elegant, regal noblewomen wouldn't speak as such, but you supposed she was the lady of her own estate. And she was a different kind of beast. "You enjoy this, don't you, dirty vermin? Being stuffed full of me, put in your place. Nothing but a deviant that craves a vampire's touch."

You are not a deviant. You weren't succumbing to her pleasure because you wanted to. It was a matter of a prey's final, desperate attempt at survival, and your mind begged for that to be the case, but a further part of you had long conceded. Ei's touch numbed the bone deep ache, relaxing yet intense. You cried. You thrashed. Maybe you did none of that and took her fingers without trouble, or maybe she had to help you make it fit, but this moment was unbound to time and reality. It should be impossible, how well she worked into the crevices of your body and wrung you dry just as she promised.

Every word you tried to voice was caught in your throat as she diligently drilled in between your walls. The timing was too immaculate. She could have very well been reading your mind, and that wouldn't be the most absurd revelation you've had the pleasure of witnessing this evening.

"Little lamb, you should feel lucky that I am just as ravenous as you are." She damn near growled but you could only perceive the gentle rumble of her chest as she spoke. "That I did not expect of you to beg." Compared to your glazed, half lidded eyes and heavy breaths, Ei's movements did not seem the least bit influenced by exertion. The last of your sanity receded somewhere far into the back of your mind as her fingers pressed against a spot you could not have possibly imagined of finding.

"Come, now. Come for your master. Show me what a good, delectable treat you are for me, you little whore."

You didn't need your imagination to see the dominion she held over you. Getting fucked senseless by a vampire couldn't possibly feel this good, but it did. When you squeezed your eyes shut, you saw blackness but also blinding light. Whatever is left of your sanity fizzles away like beer foam and you wail (or maybe it was a soundless cry) because it was too much, too good, too overwhelming-

And something, perhaps her boney hands, gripped your jaw as you cried out, exposing your jugular, but did not feel agonizing when she bit down, reaping what she sowed. Your walls continued to spasm relentlessly around her fingers, leaving a slick mess all over her thigh and hand, knowing nothing but the sweltering ecstasy of being owned, filled and used so thoroughly that you could not possibly belong to anyone else but Ei.

When you crack open your eyes for a split second, Ei captured your lips. You didn't feel the sharp point of her fangs, and she did not open her mouth, but you could still taste the residue of your own blood. There was no sadism, no ownership to be claimed as she kissed you. It was just Ei- or rather, you knew, it was simply a human behind the embrace you sank into before sleep overtakes you.

-----

Warm porcelain pressed itself insistently against your lips when you stirred. Upon opening your eyes, you are met with a violet pair staring back earnestly. Obediently, you allow yourself to sip, careful not to choke. It tasted herbal, flowery.

"Paralytic?" You wondered out loud.

"Tea." The vampire answered curtly.

"Where did Ei go?" The Ei you've come to know despite having only spoken to her for a short while would have babbled on about the healing properties of the drink. "And why am I not dead?"

"Because Ei has more use of you alive than dead." The Shogun replied, settling the half empty cup on a tray next to you. "She went to deal with that incessant dog. Only she can handle Miko without trouble. I would advise you to steer clear of her."

"Werewolf?" You didn't miss the claw marks on the edge of the door of this room.

"Perceptive." The Shogun flashed a rare, small smile. "As expected of a seasoned hunter." She then moved to feel your pulse.

One two, one two. You felt it through her fingers, cold as ever. It's weak, your body dealing with the brunt of the effects, and the consequences are no less harsh on the headache you have to endure.

"Rest well. You are exerted. The tea has been steeped, you can use that to relax and recover." The Shogun stands up from your side and makes her way to the door. "Tomorrow I will take my fill. Do not expect me to be as generous as Ei."

She stopped at the entrance of the door, seeming to hesitate for a second. Then, more resolutely, she looked over her shoulder. "Like she said, I do not care much for sweets. However, you have piqued my interest."

#dead dove do not eat #genshin impact smut #raiden shogun x reader #dubcon/noncon #mild blood/gore #gourmet blood sucking #yeah that exists now

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