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radio-writes · 2 months

Note

Going on anon bc this is a bit messed up but can you write Alastor x reader where Alastor uses sex as a form of torture?

Fuck your God and His Righteous Hand(s)

Synopsis: Hasn't Alastor always been such generous partner? Hasn't He always provided for you? Given you everything and anything you ever wanted? Except for your freedom of course.

The night you decide to run away from his graciousness, you find out just how generous he could be.

Warnings: noncon, forced relationship, mentions of blood, mentions of murder, physical harm to reader, degradation, smut, over stimulation, tentacles are used (I probably missed a lot, let me know)

Tags: Alastor x fem!reader; dead dove do not eat

MDNI

Your heart beat loudly against your chest, your breath ragged and heavy. Branches and twigs snapped and broke and fell all around you as you ran.

Not that you could hear any of it over the overwhelming sound of static flooding your ears.

As if the dark wasn't terrifying enough, you had to stumble through the woods with tears blurring your vision too. Arm stretched in front of you, swatting away vines in your path as you desperately tried to get away.

You had to get away.

You couldn't get away.

You could almost feel the ground shake beneath your feet. You could almost feel his breath that skimmed the back of your head. There was no use in running, but run you did anyway.

You kept running even when you felt his clawed fingers grab at your shirt; the fabric tearing easily.

You kept running even when you could hear his voice right by your ear. "I think it's in your best interest not to anger me any more, darling."

You couldn't keep running when a heavy, velvety tentacle wrapped around your ankle; your breath knocked out of you as you tumbled onto the forest floor.

Your hand outstretched, palm reaching into the darkness. It was a terrifying, unknown, and threatening darkness—but to you it still meant freedom.

That was the last clear thing you saw before you landed flat on your stomach, the weight of your failed escape weighing you down more than the dark shadow around your leg.

He was laughing.

He was out of breath, panting almost as heavily as you were, but he was laughing.

You heard the crunch of leaves and twigs as he approached your collapsed form. No longer rushing, no longer frantic. He seemed to take his time as he walked towards you, now that he's sure you couldn't get away.

Still, the tentacle holding you down tightened—a warning not to try anything again.

Not that you could. The moment of rest allowed to you as you laid on the ground, made the pain and exhaustion of your body much too apparent for your liking. Your legs felt like led, the numerous scratches from who-knows-where all sung in a harmony of stinging pain.

Even when you knew you couldn't run anymore, your mind frantically whirled through ideas. You tried to think of something, anything, to keep away from the Radio Demon.

At least until his shoes finally came into your view; the red accents bright against the inky darkness. They stopped right by your head, and suddenly it felt too dangerous to even think.

You found the dirt and mud of the forest floor much more appealing than having to look Alastor in the eye, so you kept your head down. Your head shrunk into the ground as the man looked down on you.

"I must admit, I hadn't expected you to run." Alastor said, still a hint of laughter in his tone. Had you looked up then, you would have seen just how much of a mess you've made of the demon. His hand pushed his red hair back from his forehead, sweat trickled down the side of his neck.

But it wasn't his unusual state of exhaustion that would have been shocking if you looked at him right now. No, what would have been surprising—what would have been unnerving— was the wild, desperate look in his glowing red eyes.

While you were scared, desperate to get away.

He was terrified, desperate to get you back.

The view of your small figure as you weaved through trees, dipping in and out of his sight had filled him with such cold, heavy dread.

Almost as much as the sight of your hand nearly meeting that of another demon's.

"Oh! But you're so filled of the unexpected today, aren't you, darling?" You could hear the spite in his tone, but you didn't dare raise your head.

You felt him step closer.

"I mean, I hadn't expected you to try to sell your soul to another demon, either." You cringed, lifting your arms over your ears as the static warped his voice terribly.

You felt a heavy weight on the back of your head. It rested there briefly, before it shoved you down further into the dirt. Your face pressed down into the mud, but you didn't dare fight back. You didn't dare move. The most reaction you allowed yourself was a small whimper of fear.

The sound fueled Alastor's rage, already barely kept under the surface of his smile. His eye twitched in annoyance. Why were you shaking? Why were you afraid?

Shouldn't you be kissing the foot on your head right now? Shouldn't you be thanking him for saving you from making a terrible mistake? A soul as unique as yours would have been wasted on a demon like that.

This ungrateful behavior, this attempt to leave him, just wouldn't do.

His foot left the back of your head, but it allowed no relief. The black tentacle wrapped around your leg swiftly yanked you up.

Your eyes widened in shock and your hands dug into the ground in an attempt to stay there. But it isn't a surprise that your flimsy resistance was easily broken through. The world soon turned into a dizzying blur of colors as you were lifted into the air. The trees floated from above and the sky was a muddy mess of leaves and roots, your arms hung limply above your head. The blood that now rushed to your head didn't help you in making much sense of what was happening.

But none of that mattered when your eyes finally met Alastor's.

As you were held up by your leg, upside down in the air, Alastor's usual wide smile looked like a snarling frown. His narrowed eyes did nothing to help the fear that quickly ate its way through you.

It was silent for a moment. Tension so thick in the air that you found it so terribly difficult to breathe.

But when he finally spoke, you thought to yourself how you actually preferred the suspenseful quiet.

"Have I not been the perfect partner?" Alastor asked. The static over his voice now eerily back to the usual amount. His tone was cheery, light, like this was just another early morning chit chat over breakfast between the two of you.

You couldn't bring yourself to speak.

The black appendage holding you up tightened, your skin already beginning to bruise. Although, it seemed that was the only indicator of Alastor's true mood, as the demon remained composed in front of you.

"Have I not given you everything you wanted?" He asked as he brought you closer to him.

When you didn't respond he brought his clawed hand up to your face.

You flinched, feeling his cold skin against yours, fearing that he'd tear right through your flesh.

But his touch was gentle. His fingers softly brushed away the mud and grime from your cheek.

"I've bought you everything you liked. I've protected you. Fed you." His voice was so soft, soothing. Like an old radio show you would have listened to while you drifted off to a restful slumber.

"I've even fucked you through your pathetic little heats." His claws dug into your skin. Blood gushed down your face, the scarlet liquid stung your eye even as you clenched it closed.

"I've spared useless, disgusting sinners on your request. I've played nice for you. I've given you everything." His hand shifted from your cheek to your neck, his grip tight, threatening.

The static over his voice once again horrid as it deafened you. His eyes, now drowned in black, narrowed into a glare at your form.

Your hands flew to your throat, pulling at Alastor's fingers. "Please, I'm sorry, Al!" You begged as you struggled. Your body flailed and squirmed as he held you above him, looking almost like a fish torn from the sea, desperate to breathe.

"Oh you're sorry?" Alastor's head titled to one side as he watched you. "That absolutely changes everything then!" He said cheerily, mockingly.

The tentacle holding you up loosened out of nowhere, sending you down into the mud for a second time that night.

You managed to keep yourself up by your arms as you greedily heaved in air back into your lungs. Your head still spun from the rush of blood, and you felt like you were about to vomit out whatever flesh Alastor made you eat earlier that day.

You felt something at your chin—Alastor's microphone it seemed—and it tilted your face towards him. Your teary eyes met his cheerful ones, and your chest tightened. It's been a long time since you've even stepped outside, but you now felt more trapped than you ever have before.

He bent down, lowering his face closer to yours as he smiled down at you.

"Since it seems like I've neglected my dear darling partner for so long that they've decided to seek attention elsewhere, I think it's best to spend some nice quality time together. Don't you think that'd be nice, sweetheart?" Alastor's voice held no threats. Promises. Only promises.

You shook your head no before he even finished talking. A desperate shaking hand reached up to him. "No, please. Al. Anywhere but the radio tower again. Please."

"Don't worry, doll. This time will a bit different." He assured.

You moved quickly, hurriedly, scrambling to your knees ready to beg at his feet. But before you could even part your lips to start, Alastor had both of you melted into shadows.

You re-materialize in the one place that haunted your dreams. The one place in Hell that truly, actually, did feel like hell to you.

Your blood felt frozen as you remained on the floor. Eyes wide in fear as you stared at the control panel.

Alastor turned his back to you, humming cheerfully, nonchalantly, as he made his way towards the main seat. "There's no need to look so alarmed," He said, you could almost hear the way his eyes rolled at your stupid expression. "We won't be having any special guests for this broadcast."

You finally tore your eyes away from the contraptions. Your gaze landing on Alastor's wide back as he slowly removed his coat. "You...you won't be torturing some poor soul?" You asked confused—and admittedly a little hopeful.

You couldn't count the horrible days he had made you sit and watch and listen as he took his sweet time tearing souls apart. How he joyously broadcasted the tortured screams for his Hell's entertainment.

Alastor's grin widened, stretched just a tad bit too far, before he turned his head to look back at you.

"Oh," Heavy static morphed his voice once more. "I didn't say that."

You didn't have time to react before his tentacles sprouted from his back, his inner shirt ripping to make way for them. They grabbed at your limbs, slithering around to get a tight hold as they pulled you to him.

A scream ripped from your throat at the sheer suddenness of it, and it made Alastor's heart leap in his chest. Oh how he loved those adorable reactions of yours.

"That is delightful! But do save your voice, dear. I do have to start us off first," He said gleefully as he turned around to fiddle with the controls.

You heart sunk. Eyes wide as the realization hit you. He wasn't going to force you to listen to someone being tortured.

"Alastor, wait—"

"Why hello, you wayward sinners! Hope everyone's having a wonderfully hellish time right now, because boy do I have quite the treat to make your evenings even better!" Alastor spoke into the mic, his eyes gone black as he held your gaze. "Yes, indeed, this one is going to be very special."

"Al, please—" You bit your lip, cutting off whatever pleas you were going to throw at him.

One of his tentacles pressed against your clothed mound as the others held you in the air. It quickly worked its way under your bottoms, ripping through it easily and exposing you to Alastor's lazy gaze.

"Don't, please. I'm so sorry, Al. I won't do it again, I promise, please." You whispered, not wanting all of Hell to hear how you begged for mercy.

"What's that, darling? I'm afraid you'll have to be a little louder for our lovely, horrid, listeners." Alastor mocked, just as the tentacle between your legs started to slide between your folds. Another made quick work of your already torn shirt.

You grit your teeth and clenched your eyes closed. Stubbornly, you refused to make a single sound from Alastor's ministrations.

But you know how this ends.

You're hardly the first soul he had broken during a broadcast.

You, of all people, knew that well.

Another one of his appendages slithered its way to your core. It teased at the entrance, pushing, testing your hole.

"I hope everyone has a lovely time!" You hear Alastor speak to his listeners, just as a scream ripped through your lips.

You weren't nearly wet enough to take him. Your walls resisted, but not enough for his strength. The black shadow pushed its way deep into you, others coiled at your legs to spread them apart. One remained by your clit, lazily flicking along.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" You cried as Alastor fucked his tentacle deep into you. The harsh thrusts sending your ample chest bouncing.

Alastor didn't respond, he rarely ever does to his victims. He preferred to let the song of their anguish play uninterrupted. But he did find himself paying more attention than he usually did to the way your body reacted to him.

His gaze locked at the way his black shadow disappeared into your slick hole. How it came back to light drenched in your juices, only to push back in harsher. How your little pussy stretched wide around his tentacle to accommodate its size.

His eyes traveled further up, watching as he wrapped one tentacle around your breast and squeezed. A lovely horrified sound coming from your lips from his actions.

He watched as you sobbed, attention fully on him. Only on him. And he couldn't deny the rather unfamiliar heat the pooled in his stomach at that fact.

The tentacle at your clit moved faster, pressing down just the slightest bit more at that little bud. You tried your damndest to silence the screams from your throat, but as your mouth fell open, you could only do so much.

The coil in your gut snapped easily. Alastor tightening his hold on you as he kept your spasming form in the air for his entertainment.

Your juices flowed down his dark appendages as it kept up the pace. Tears forming in your eyes as they gave you no reprieve, no time recover.

You fight against his hold, aching to close your thighs and catch your breath but the dark shadows merely pulled them apart wider. You pulled at you arms, wanting to push away the damned things from your core but you were merely held back the same way.

"Wait, please, stop." You were barely able to form a coherent sentence. The tentacle inside you opting to curl just the right amount to hit that soft, perfect spot inside you with every thrust. That spot that Alastor knew drove you wild when he fucks you through your heat, after a lot of begging on your end, at least.

You clenched down on it, that being the only thing you could think of that you could still do to slow this down. It unsurprisingly did nothing but make you feel more of each drag and pull against your walls.

Another orgasm is stolen from you as a tentacle began to grind itself up and down your sloppy slit, drenching itself in your slick as it attempted to join the one already fucking you. Your screams broadcasted for all of Pride Ring to hear.

It doesn't stop. He doesn't stop. His dark shadows held you still, fucking into your cervix without mercy, playing with your clit, your breasts. Pulling yet another sloppy orgasm from you.

"No more," You heaved. Alastor's assault seeing no end near. "I can't. Al, please." You begged.

You craned your neck over to look back at the demon. You find his gaze no longer on you or your body, but on the papers in front of him. His script.

He was idly jotting down notes, chin rested on the palm of his hand and a lazy smile on his face. He almost looked bored, but the twitch of his ear as you called out his name showed you he was still paying you some attention.

"Alastor, please," You tried again. "I am sorry. I won't do it again. I won't leave you again." You sobbed.

The tentacle inside you pulled out to your brief relief, only for it to slam harshly, deeper back into you. It's pace at breakneck speed that even with the tight hold around your limbs, your body was moved with every push and pull.

"Oh, I'm sure you won't, darling." He finally replies to your pleas, although he didn't even glance your way. He continued correcting his notes, your sweet begging made for a wonderfully sweet background song. "Because why would you ever leave someone as generous as me?"

He ripped orgasm after orgasm from you. Your release dripped and drenched the floor of his radio tower. You begged til your throat was raw for some reprieve, for some forgiveness. But Alastor went about his way around the studio. Fixing this and that. Barely paid you any mind.

It was only when you've stopped pulling against his hold. When your legs had gone slack in the air, and your screams faded into whimpers did Alastor finally approach the control panel again.

"Wasn't that just darling! A wonderful performance, if I do say so myself," He laughed into his microphone. "I'm sure you lewd folks enjoyed yourself as much as our star of the night here, so make sure to keep an ear out for my next broadcast!"

His eyes finally land on your exhausted body. Your chest heaved with every labored breath as Alastor's tentacles finally slowly pulled out of you. A wet shlop of your juices dripping out as it did.

He slowly lowered you onto the ruined floor, and your dazed eyes locked with his.

"There will definitely be more of where that came from." He said, less of his usual cheer. His tone lower. Threatening—no, promising.

You didn't move—you couldn't move—from the floor. You simply watched as Alastor shut down his broadcast and took his time straightening out and cleaning up his work station. He was humming cheerfully, seeming to be in a much better mood than when the night had begun.

When he was finally satisfied, you watched as he walked to where you were, stopping by your feet as he smiled down at you.

"Well, you've definitely seen better days." A laugh track followed his mockery.

"I'm sorry." You heaved out. You hoped this was the end of it. You hoped he would just throw you back and lock you in his room again. Anything but stay in this wretched radio tower. "I'm yours. I won't try to run anymore."

Alastor chuckled at your response, moving to rest his cane against the wall before he reached up to his neck. He slowly loosened his bowtie and unbuttoned his shirt. "Oh I know you know that." He said waving off your words as if they didn't matter.

He lowered himself over you, his towering figure blocking out what little light you had. "But I'm afraid I need a bit of a reminder about who you belong to."

His hand made quick work of his trousers, pulling his hardened cock free.

His claws were at your waist and they pulled your limp body closer to him. Not that you offered any resistance.

"You can do one more for me can't you darling?" He wasn't really asking.

You can't. But you nod your head anyway.

He pushed into you easily. Your previous releases coated him and allowed a slicker entry.

Your back arched despite exhaustion, and Alastor drank in your pained expression. "There's a good girl. Always ready to ruin herself for her lover." You heard him say. "Don't worry, I won't make this long."

But of course that was a lie. He pulled back so slowly, revering in the way your drenched walls felt around him; how they clenched around his cock like how he saw them do around his tentacle. Then he thrusted himself back harshly into your sloppy hole, forcing what little sound you could still make out from your lips.

He fucked into you, slowly, deeply, maddeningly. Making sure you both felt each and every drag of his heavy cock.

He wasn't one to crave sex as much as most of hell, but when it was with you—his precious partner, he had to admit he didn't hate the sensations all too much. And if it meant reminding you who was in control, if it meant making you owe him, making you dependent on him, making you crave him, then it was all the more enjoyable to see you fucked out and speared on his dick.

One of his hands made its way to the back of your neck, pulling you up into his lap. He fucked up into you as your head lolled to the side, struggling to keep your body upright.

Alastor drank in your expression. Your glazed over eyes, the tear stains that smeared through the mud and blood along your cheeks, the drool dripping from your split lips. Yes, this is what you deserved for even daring to leave him. This is what you needed to be reminded on just how good a partner he is.

He wrapped a tentacle around your hips, keeping you steady as he pounded his cock into you. His free hand now moved between you, to your clit.

Your hips spasmed as he drew quick circles on the bud, but you fought the instinct to squirm away. You wouldn't leave him.

You can't leave him.

You know that now.

Alastor's grin widened when he noticed your actions. "There's a good girl." He purred again, leaning down to your neck to lick up your skin.

"Let me feel you cum on my cock now, darling. Let me feel how much you want me to fill you up." He whispered, his sweet voice right by your ear as he pressed down harder on your clit.

You whined, tears pouring from your eyes once more as he tore yet another orgasm from your weakened body.

Your fluids drenched his dick, soiling his pants as you came around him. Alastor all but tore your skin as he gripped you tight. His own pace finally picked up.

You felt him twitch inside you, before the hot feeling of his seed soothed your battered cunt.

"Tell me, would that scum have let you cum like this?" Alastor whispered in your ear. He held you tightly, his head still at the crook of your neck.

"No," You responded weakly. You felt him twitch inside you again.

You tried your hardest not to think back to the poor sinner, ripped limb from limb in a blink of an eye. Their body likely still stomped down into the mud of the forest floor.

"Would any other wretched soul be able to give you what I give you?" Alastor asked again. He playfully nipped at your ear.

"No," You responded again.

"So who do you think can treat you, treasure you, best, my dear?" He pulled back, his smug smile loomed over you as he held your chin for you to keep his gaze.

"You, Alastor. Only you can treat me this good." The words were bitter in your mouth

You hadn't sold him your soul. And he would never ask for it.

But you were his and his alone, nonetheless.

"And don't you ever forget it." He mused, pushing you back down to the floor as he began to fuck himself inside of you again. His previous release slowly pushed out with every slow thrust.

"Be still for me, darling," He whispered sweetly. "Let me have my fill of you for now."

I don't usually write smut but this request sent me haywire. Hope I didn't disappoint, anon! I loved your demented request ♪

#tw: noncon #tw: physical harm to reader #tw: forced relationship #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor x reader #smut #alastor smut #alastor x reader smut #vien writes #vien answers #requests from a lovely anon #MIND THE TAGS PLEASE FOR CRYING OUT LOUD

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headspace-hotel · 9 months

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This is approximate since calculations vary, but somewhere in the neighborhood of 20% of carbon emissions since the Industrial Revolution have come from destruction of terrestrial ecosystems—wetland destruction, deforestation, degradation of grasslands and so on

Soil, soil communities, root systems, carbonate rock, wood, living plants, and peat in wetlands—all holds carbon

Now consider what plants do for you

The mere sight of plants and trees improves mental and physical health. I won't elaborate much more upon this, the positive effects are incredible and overwhelming.

Trees and vines that shade your home and outdoor areas: reduce the cost of cooling, meaning less electricity is used. Shade reduces the risk of death in extreme heat events.

(Trees also reduce light and noise pollution)

Edible plants (many wild plants and many plants you can grow): provide you with food reducing your dependence on industrial agriculture and cars to reach supermarkets

Community gardens and orchards: creates resilience and interdependence among small local communities, reducing the power of capitalism and increasing the ability of individuals to organize and create change. Makes more sustainable and plant based diets accessible to people for whom they would ordinarily be inaccessible

Compost piles for gardening: less greenhouse gas emissions than result from waste breaking down anaerobically in landfills

No more traditional lawns: much less use of gas powered lawn mowers, weed whackers etc. which are, by themselves, significant contributions to carbon emissions and urban pollution

Crafting and creating using plants: Locally available wild plant species can be used by local crafters and creators for baskets and containers, yarn, fabrics, dyes, and the like, resulting in less dependence on unsustainable and unethical global industries

More people growing and gathering edible and useful plants and using them = larger body of practical, scientific and technological insights to draw from in order to solve future problems

In conclusion: Plants

#plants #plantarchy #you are a caretaker #climate change #climate change mitigation #climate change adaptation #gardening #community gardens

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moonit3 · 7 months

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SURVIVORS

➥ warnings/notices: yandere, nsfw, smut, noncon fingering, implied age gap, death, violence, blood, harassment, apocalypse, reader’s family dies, mentioned pregnancy, reader is scared of many things but has a gun, guns, threats, open ending.

➥ yandere! male apocalypse survivor x f! reader

➥ synopsis: you shouldn’t have let him inside.

➥ a/n: why not writing it? i had a dream like this a few nights ago and thought about it, so i had to write it before I could forget it. not to mention, also opened end guys.

➥ the events are forever in your mind. the day that change the world when unseen creatures start appearing from nowhere and killing every human they could find, include father and mother, both who died to put you inside the bunker they made in the woods, where the door was hide behind vines and rocks inside a cave. there, you could hear their fainted scream for minutes til the creatures finally finished and leave the area for good.

➥ that bunker quickly become your home as your are too afraid to step outside to witness of what world has become. with numerous supplies stocked, running water and a huge indoor garden to plant vegetables and some chicken running around. so you began living there without worrying about lack of food nor energy as this whole place is move by the river nearby. your parents really thought of everything, didn’t they?

➥ and as expected, a live full of simplistic and cozy start up when you get used to the almost same routine every day. take care of the garden, cook meals, clean the entire place, repare old clothes and your favorite thing, catch a glimpse of the outside world. in the highest part of the bunker, there is a periscope that allow you to see almost two miles around the front of cave.

➥ one day, instead of seeing wild animals and the creatures, you see a man standing in front of the entrance with his clothes full of cuts and blood, looking almost he is ready to pass out at any given second. should you help him? he looks horrible in this state, but the last words of father still ringing in your mind, don’t let anyone enter the bunker other than you! but��he looks so miserable and lost, not to mention the sounds of the creatures around, so you helped him.

➥ ignoring the voices inside your head, you open the door and help the man to enter the bunker. the many cuts on his skin still fresh and the blood running his vests are smelling bad. im going to help you, okay? just stay here. i have a kit-aid that will give you some relief. and with the best effort, you managed to clean most the blood of him and stitch all of his cuts. even daring to wash his hair as you offered him.

➥ after treating him, you could take a better look at the mysterious man that is inside the bathtub. sharp eyes that reminds you of blades, skin full of old scars (from the creatures and other humans), full of muscles and hands way bigger than yours. this man is someone stronger to have survived in the wildness outside for the past years. however the injuries in his body isn’t going to heal anytime soon, so you offered him to stay over for a couple of weeks until he gets fully healed.

➥ a new routine began for the two of you. theo, as he introduced himself, began doing most of the task that involves hard working such as cutting firewood from the garden, fixing furniture that were broken years ago and even taking care of the chickens. in meanwhile, you took care of the cooking, cleaning and sometimes helping theo in his duties as you are afraid that he is pushing himself.

➥ don’t bother me, [name]. despite letting him living with you for the past few days, theo wasn’t got close to you nor let you take care of his wounds, saying that he knows how to handle it. he is a little stubborn, you have to admit, but you can’t let him take of his own wounds, theo barely knows how to stitch his injuries and have zero clues on how to properly use the bandages. with enough lucky and discussion, he lets you take care of him, but only if you don’t use the anesthesia.

➥ a weird request, but you listen to his words and don’t use the anesthesia when cleaning his wounds. you don’t know why he prefers it, but it’s a little comforting to see him smiling when you are changing his bandages and taking care of him. and every time after you finish doing it, he kisses your cheek as a reward. you did a great job, [name]. why he keeps doing it? you don’t know, but with every kiss that theo gives you, it’s always make your heart skip a beat louder and faster.

➥ then after weeks of living together, it was time to theo to leave the bunker when his injuries got better, but you two got so close together in this time that you offered him to stay at the bunker with you and he accepted. it’s a great offer, not gonna to lie. and staying around you is going to be better than going outside, not knowing if im going survive another day. with that, you began officially living along theo inside the bunker.

➥ and living with theo got a little weird, maybe awkward(?) as he become more touchy around you. his large hands on your waist during moments that you thought to be alone or catching him spying when you are bathing, it makes you uncomfortable of course. however, when you think to bring it up to talk about it, theo cut the subject, i think you are overthinking, [name]. you know me, i won’t never do that.

➥ his words don’t affect you and you continue to take notices of his new behavior. it’s getting worse every day goes on, his touches become more intense (always having a hand on your waist or something even lower), he enters the bathtub with you (to save water), but what did you made panic was waking up in the middle of the night with theo sleeping with you. your body laying against his chest and his hand going lower to your private parts.

———

“theo—“ he covers your mouth with the crook of his elbow, not giving you any chance to speak up with his hand going beneath your shorts, already feeling your sensitive part. this can’t be happening, it’s must be a nightmare.

without any warning, he inserted one finger inside you, resulting in your muffled scream being heard by theo only as your body shakes in fear, along with tears began to drop all over the nigh clothes. don’t worry, [name]. “i will be gentle, okay? i want to your first time to be special and unique.” so his single digit start moving inside your warmth walls, feeling how spongy and tight you are becoming due to his touch.

your body shakes when theo adds another finger inside, this is too much! you never expected to be this painful as you heard from friends back at college. your hands goes to his arm, trying to move it away his hand from your intimate parts, but ended receiving a head but from theo.

“don’t you dare! i been waiting for this for too long for you to ruin it!” another finger is put inside you, this time he goes faster and you are close, you can feel it despite not wanting to let him knowing it. “now be a good boy/girl/person and i will show you how to experience the best pleasure ever.”

the fingers began moving faster and faster, making [name]’s muffled moans turned into agonizing yells, trying to find anything to focus instead of the sensation that is inside your body. you attempt to imagine to be anywhere else, but not here, pretend that you are just with your late friends back at the town. pretending you aren’t living through hell.

and for what felt like hell, you finally came due to his fingers. a soft whimpering as you are finally give up of fighting and is already too tired from yelling for mercy, now your thighs and the sheets are dirty by your fluids, ruining the peaceful night that you wished to had, yet at least theo is over, meaning that you can go back to sleep…then you heard his zipper goes off.

“now, it’s my turn, [name].”

@moonit3 writings

#yandere oc #yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere male #yandere male x reader #yandere original character #yandere writing #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #yandere smut #yandere x you #tw yandere #tw smut #tw noncon #my oc Theo #yandere x y/n #➥·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ moon writings

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thesilicontribesman · 2 months

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Roman Gods And Goddesses of the Countryside, Arch of Trajan at Beneventum, 114 CE

These gods and goddesses represent the prosperity of the countryside: Bacchus, god of the vine with his thyrsos (a fennel-stalk staff); Ceres, goddess of corn and the harvest, with a torch; Diana, goddess of hunting and wild animals; and Silvanus, god of woods and fields, who holds a pine branch (in situ, west side, attic).

Ashmolean Museum, Oxford

#roman gods #roman goddess #roman deities #roman belief #roman villa #roman farms #roman countryside #countryside #nature #seasons #roman emperors #roman living #roman empire #ro.an sculpture #trajan #archaeology

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riding-with-the-wild-hunt · 9 months

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if the horror of mordor is that it’s a fundamentally dead place, the horror of beleriand under melkor is that it’s alive. every wild thing, every plant, the land itself, all of it can be bent and shaped to the will of that which wants you gone. woods with vines to choke and trap and strangle, bogs replete with depthless pools and paths that lead nowhere and clouds of mosquitoes that can turn your blood to poison. leave a wound in the open air and by nightfall infection will have set in. goats and sheep are born shrivelled and eyeless. springs that if drunk from will bloat your belly and waste you away to nothing. deer watching with too many eyes, boars running mad and foaming even after they’re felled. just endless possibilities for fear and havoc and destruction, and all of it is intended…there is no comfort in the randomness of nature when nature hates you personally

#if mordor is a corpse beleriand is a construct. sparkle on :))#brought to you by me #every day i wake up + i get on my little soapbox #the professor's world #the silmarillion #beleriand #melkor #give me some good old-fashioned tolkien nature horror

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comfortless · 2 months

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HIYA SYL! I LOVE UR WORK WITH THE DEPTHS OF MY SOUL AND ALSO I HOPE YOURE HAVING A GOOD DAY (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

AHEM! I constantly have this idea of Hybrid!Konig discovering the scent of Hybrid!Reader on his territory, but due to it being so vast he can never catch her in person. All he has to go off of is scraps of food, her scent rubbed against stones and stumps, and prints that are MUCH smaller than his! Until on one faithful day, he catches the lil thing creeping around his personal space!

I just wanna add that I’d love to see you tweak this idea ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ (If you want!) like making it human!reader instead orrrr in a more human manner such as it being a cabin in woods and reader is stranded, maybe. ANYTHING, KEKEKE ID JUST EAT UP ANY OF YOUR AMAZING WORK

raaah thinking about a bear hybrid König because of the cute lil kaomoji.. he would be so big and soft… ;; reader gets to be a fox..! also thank you for your sweet words and the prompt, angel!! ^^ 💘 too many ideas… i should write more hybrid!Kö…

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. reader & König are mostly human like last time! just with ears and tails. König is incredibly awkward in this (has 0 idea how to talk to a lady someone help him), possessive behaviors, very much… love? obsession? at first sight, fluff, implied sex.

The pretty thing in the grove does not know that she sits on the cusp between admired and threatened. She skitters through summer foliage like a dance, twists and winds and stretches to reach each fattened, ripe fruit hanging from vine or limb. The scent that lingers in this place fills most up with dread, their eyes wide as they look for places to hide or run, any place but here. She hardly seems bothered when she takes a plum into her mouth, it’s juice dripping down her chin as her tail curls over her bare stomach.

She laughs when the birds in their trees warn her of danger, bares her teeth at them and tells them all she’s far faster than some old bear, speaks off-key when she’s drunken on stolen fermented fruit and dazed on the rays of sunbeams shifting through the leaves.

He could rush out, take her by surprise and hook a claw into her throat before she would even have the mind to spare him a glance. It’s just that no part of him wants to, not now, not when he’s been made aware of the beautiful passerby that steals his food and leaves a pattern of uneven, dancing footprints in her wake. He had only had the thought once when he saw this earthly garden uprooted with only the foreign smell of rosemary and lilac left behind.

Watching her now, it’s all too different.

She leaves the pit of her plum at her side when she lies in the grass to rest, tail plumed up and over her middle like a blanket as her ears flick and rustle her hair. It’s not a tentative sleep: she’s soft, warm and utterly exhausted from her day of pilfering if the long, quiet breaths were much to go by.

Any other bearman would eat her whole and pick the bones from his teeth to leave as offerings for the birds, the buzzards with their wild eyes and ruffs of feathers about their necks. But… it’s only summer, what good would eating her do? He reasons it would hurt him more than it could ever hurt her, because then all would fall back to tedium and silence. There would be no more hushed laughter and dizzying prances, no more of a sight prettier than any view he’s seen prior.

He wants more of her than this— more than what he should ever have at all or more of her than even she could offer with honeyed words or soft touches.

So, he only watches her rest. In the gentle calm of daylight, she rolls against the grass in sleep, bares herself unknowingly when the sun warms her and her thighs are too warm to press against one another. And finally, he wills himself to turn away, to wander back to that dreary cabin that serves as a proper home, because as much as he wants, he does not deserve.

The days go on like this.

The haze of summer does not let up, and she’s made a home of a strawberry patch in a glade closer to the cabin than she’s ever been before. He watches her bask amongst the bushes, lying on her belly while the sun beats down against her hide, kisses over her shoulders with a yellowish glow that only makes her look as sweet as warmed honey, a bonfire, lovely as the fruit she steals.

Nothing changes in her even when he does bring himself to detach from the shade of the pine, force himself into the light for the birds and tiny humming bees to see. She tilts her head back, flicks her tail and smiles like she’s known he’s been there all along. Known the loneliness and tastes it on her teeth to spit it back out in refusal, but she hasn’t— not like he has, because she’s the one who speaks first.

“Are you going to eat me?,” she asks when she’s risen to her feet. His little fox does not hide herself from him; her tail sways lazily behind her, each dip and curve displayed so openly that he wonders if she sees him as a threat at all, or then, maybe the danger coaxes up an unseen heat within her.

He shakes his head stiffly, ears pressed back to his skull.

The world itself must have played some horrible joke upon him now, because all thoughts of what he wanted to say filter out into a plume of smoke. It’s maddening, how he wants to tell her he would like nothing more than to drag her back into his cabin and lick honey from her mouth, yet all that comes out is a brittle, “The strawberries are not ripe yet.”

She laughs at him, not cruel, but it still feels like teeth tearing into his throat. All hope isn’t lost, though, because even through her laughter her gaze is fond and sweet. Perhaps she’s seen him time and time again, too. It isn’t easy to hide when you’re as large and difficult to settle as König.

The fox beckons him closer with a curl of her fingers and a strawberry between her teeth. She drapes an arm over his neck to tug him down to her level and kisses him there, with the berry crushed between their mouths. Bitter as expected, but not a single complaint billows up in his mind.

This sweet fairy does not know what she’s done with that shared bite, how his mind goes doughy and sap sticky when the fruit dissipates between them and his mouth finds her own.

He wonders if she does this often, seduces larger beasts to toy with and steal from to continue her reckless romping through the forest, drift off further to the mountains and the sea, endlessly searching for the very thing he’s already found with her. It does not escape him how tightly he keeps her in his hold then, nails leaving indentations in her waist as he brings her as closely as he can, licks into her mouth until she shivers.

He would bring her flowers and honeycomb, carve little idols of her from every tree she loves if she would just—

“Will you be my mate?,” he asks, abrupt, face heating up to his very ears as he finally lets her go. A croak, a shameful one that leaves him wanting to scurry off like a rabbit, but she’s already heard it all and stares up at him with a look part doleful, part adoring. The poor thing doesn’t even know him, doesn’t know that he’s already contemplated clearing out the fox dens in the forest and chasing out the wolves to make sure that she was his alone.

If she tossed him into the river now he wouldn’t dare blame her, he would only take it out on the stupid salmon with their glistening tails, and maybe if he brought her back a treasure made of fish bone and scale he could change her mind.

But she only kisses him again, lingers right on his cheek like something a proper lover would do, before telling him that she’s grateful he’s never come to harm her, that he didn’t mind sharing his fruit on those too-hot days when she didn’t feel roused enough to hunt down the mice and the bunnies, and she even appreciated his kiss: something she tells him that had made her feel like nothing else in her life. All of the very things he’s only imagined her saying in that sweet voice she uses to whisper to the pretty flowers and the bright red cardinals tweeting back to her.

He’s never been sweet, but he believes it when she tells him that he is when they’re lying side by side in the cabin later. There’s a bruise on his shoulder the shape of her teeth and one to match of his own making on her thigh. He can’t keep himself from curling his hand around her there, thumb brushing over that purple mark he’s left as he buries his face into her shoulder and catches magnolia in her scent.

“I really like you,” she admits quietly as the night air begins to chill the sweat on their bodies, as she guides his hand up to press a kiss to his fingertips. As if she had no idea just how badly he longed to ruin anything else she’s ever said that to, set the forest ablaze and lie and laugh with her in the ash.

“I love you,” he says in turn, damning himself further as he always did to a somber oblivion. Only, this one doesn’t leave. Not even when his hand pries from her mouth to take hold of her breast and his teeth graze her skin. Her face is warm, eyes misty, like she’s just been given the most hearty helping of something delicious amidst pure famine.

She doesn’t laugh at his confession, doesn’t bat his face away from her nipple, only suggests that they bathe beneath the moon. He can not fault her for not reciting the words; this bout has only made him further intent on pulling her in to keep. He convinces himself that all it would take is time, or a rougher fuck, something. He’s never been too patient, either.

The fox curls into his lap as the water reaches them, head thrown back where she sits, impaled and ecstatic while his fingers drift to her hips, head pressed to her chest where he tells her that she has more than paid him back for what she’s stolen.

She didn’t need to lie or let him sully her out of pity anymore. Testing and prying in his own way, even as he whispers that confession to her again and again, against her clavicle and up to her neck with every languid roll of her hips.

The truth spills from her mouth like rain when she comes undone, a soft sentiment that pulls him below a warm tide, drowned out and washed away only by the words she speaks then and the way her body wraps so snug around him.

She tells him that she wishes to stay like this… for as long as she possibly can.

He carries her home like a princess from some storybook, lies her in his bed and pulls her close with a grip so tight that she whines about it being too hot— that his warmth is almost smothering, but still melts beneath him when his lips find her own again. Breaking away from her feels worse than those hangdog days he had only spent watching her from afar, longing for the things that she had only now allowed for him to feel.

But König swears to her then when her eyes lock to his and her tail begins that gentle swaying again, that no matter what she will be here forever. He’ll make sure of it.

#könig x reader #tw: hybrid

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hamham-moments · 10 months

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#hamtaro #clingie #hamchat #vine #swinging #swinging from a vine #HE IS GONE #wild woods #ham-ham-heartbreak

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dambaepuff · 3 months

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STRAW-BEAR-IES

☆Pairing: BearHybrid!Namjoon x GN!Reader

☆Genre: hybrid au, fluff, one-shot, pg-13

☆Warnings: none!

☆Word count: 4.3k

☆Summary: You noticed the strawberries in your garden started going missing a few weeks ago, the bushes often being smushed as if something big stepped onto them. Slowly you start to find other parts of your large garden in disarray as well. Who might be this crop thief stealing from you?

☆A/N: Hi!! This is the first time I’ve ever posted onto this account, I hope you’ll like it. I’m thinking of making it a series potentially? Feel free to let me know your thoughts and suggestions and/or if you have any sort of criticism and tips. Also beware of the fact that I do not have a beta reader and English isn’t my first language so there might be some mistakes!!

You sigh as you step into your garden and close the gate. It seems as though someone payed it a visit again last night. The once beautiful green grapes you had growing were now gone, the vines torn down, the trellises bent in funky ways and all the leaves crumpled. You take off your gardening gloves and stuff them into your apron’s front pouch. Your bare hands softly touch the now ruined plant, trying to examine the damage and determine if it’s salvageable. With a huff you bend down and grab onto the plant’s support structure, making sure your footing is firm you get to work with lifting everything up and fixing it.

“Hm, I need the toolbox for this one.” You mumble to yourself, letting go of the structure and tumbling backwards a little. Set on repairing the trellis, you start walking towards the shed. With a pep in your step you start to whistle a random tune, stuffing your hands into your pockets and fishing around for the key to the shed. As you pull out the keys and start to fumble around with them, trying to spot the square silver key, you catch movement in the corner of your eye. At first you brush it off as wind rustling branches, but then you register a large brown lump moving around. Your head shoots up and you immediately freeze up. About ten meters away from you stands a large grizzly bear, sniffing around in the bushes on your property. With fear coursing through your veins, the sudden adrenaline makes your thoughts turn hazy. Starting to fumble with the keys faster you decide it’s best to hide in the shed till it leaves, however once the jingle of the metal clinking resumed the bear’s head rose. It’s black eyes landed directly onto you. Your hands shook and you dropped the keys, your panic starting to become more prominent.

Just as you thought the wild animal was going to pounce, it turned around and ran in the opposite direction as if it was the one scared to death. You halted all your movements in confusion, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Wiping the sweat that accumulated on your forehead you picked up the bundle of metal from the ground and finally found the right key. Quickly shutting the door, you let yourself slump against it. Thumping your head against the wood, you let out a sigh of relief.

After that day you were on edge for a little while, but it wasn’t long till you went back to your usual routine. One morning you had gathered all of the produce that was overly ripe into one large bucket. Now wanting it to go to waste you fed part of it to some of your animals and the rest you had left out in front of the garden in hopes of the thief taking from there instead of ruining all your hard work. You had been carving away at a small piece of wood whilst laying on your hammock when you heard rustling behind you. Slowly turning around you spotted the same brown bear eating away at the produce you had left in the bucket. Your heart started to pound in fear, not knowing what to do you laid back down and tried to be as still as possible, hoping that the beast would be gone soon. The munching noises you could faintly hear stopped at some point and everything went quiet. Tightly shutting your eyes you prayed it was going back to where it came from, but instead you heard heavy footsteps coming towards you. A tear brimmed your eye, your skin prickled with goosebumps and your blood pumped so hard you could hear it. Shallow breaths took over your body, each one of your muscles tensing. The footsteps stopped right beside you, a warm breath tickled your face. The animal let out a deep groan, curiously starting to sniff you. Unable to open your eyes from the terror you used sound and your imagination to be able to tell what the bear was doing. It’s sniffing stopped at your hands, it’s wet snout nudging your skin. You cracked one eye open and saw the large beast staring at the small wooden figurine you had been carving. It’s eyes held no hunger or malice, it looked interested and almost kind? Unsure if you were seeing right, you fully opened your eyes, gawking up at the creature. It looked down at you and then back at your hands, almost as if it was asking what you were doing.

“Uhm, this?” You asked, your voice coming out weak as you held up your creation. The bear grunted and nodded its head. “Oh it’s just a little figurine I was making, it’s supposed to be a dog.” You said wide eyed, to which the bear nodded. “You can… You can understand me?” You squeaked out. The bear nodded again and let out a small grunt. Your confusion only doubled, yet your interest was piqued. You set down the carving onto your stomach and reached out one of your hands, slowly bringing it up to the bears head. Hesitantly you set it down, the fur feeling softer than you’d imagine. Slowly, your hand started to stroke its head to which the beast let out a content grumble and leaned into your touch. Completely stunned, all you could do was continue petting it. The bear lowered its head and let it rest in your lap, the warmth emitting from it surprisingly comforting. The mammal’s big black eyes started to blink slower, its entire body seeming to relax. You however, still felt a bit on edge. It started to nudge your hand with its nose, ‘This is it, I’m going to lose a hand now!’ you thought, expecting to get bitten. However, to your surprise all it did was give your palm a few licks, as if thanking you. It stood back up with a grunt and started to make it’s way towards the wooded area on your property.

After that exchange you had started leaving fruit and leftovers from your dinner on your front porch each evening. Every morning you’d wake up to the food gone and a little gift left in its place. The presents varied from pretty rocks and flowers to money and shiny jewelry you assumed the creature stole from someone. Scraping the remnants of sauce into the container you hummed along to a song playing on the radio. With leftover pasta in one hand and an array of fruits in the other, you made your way to your front door. Pushing the handle down with your elbow and kicking to door open with your foot, you prepare to place the food down onto the steps. A familiar set of black eyes startle you, almost making you drop everything you were holding. “Oh! You scared me.” The bear huffed out something that sounded similar to a laugh. “I got you food. Sit down.” It obliged and plopped down with a grunt. “I got you strawberries, I know you like those.” You say as you place everything down and pick up a strawberry, throwing it towards the bear. It catches the berry mid air and happily chomps down on it. “Bon appetite.” You grin at it and make your way back inside. Sparing the beast one last glance through the window, you turn off all the lights and make your way to bed.

The bear started showing up for dinner early more often, letting you feed and pet it. Tonight was no different, you fed the creature, talked to it pretending it understood you and bid it farewell. Loud claps of thunder awoke you from your sleep, looking out of your window the rain was pouring down like no tomorrow, wind wildly throwing around leaves and jostling trees. Immediately your mind jumped to your furry friend. Without a second thought you got up from bed, quickly shuffling into your slippers and pulling on a robe. With hurried steps you made your way downstairs, looking out onto your front porch you saw the same lump of brown fur laying outside your door, finding shelter from the rain under the gable roof. For a moment you hesitated, what could you even do? Would it be absurd to let the wild animal into your home? It definitely would be. So, you unlocked your front door and opened it. A gust of wind immediately hit you in the face, carrying rain water with it. Not far from your house, a bolt of thunder struck the ground, echoing loudly and flashing before your eyes. The beast startled awake, looking around it shivered in fear. Trying to get it’s attention you yelled over the wind and thunder, flailing your arms around like an idiot. The ears on its head lightly perked up and it turned its head to face you. Large black eyes landed on your figure, watching as you beckoned it inside. Without a hint of uncertainty the creature got up and started walking towards you. Reaching around in the dark and running your hand along the wall, you found the light switch and turned it on. The second your friend entered the house you shut the door, sighing as the storm’s noises faded into a mere hum.

“Wait here.” You instructed and quickly made your may to the bathroom, taking two large towels and scurrying back to the entrance. Unfolding the fabric, you draped it over the bear and got to work with drying it off to the best of your abilities. When you got to its head, you became more gentle. Gingerly rubbing out the moisture from its ears and cheeks, you looked into its eyes. They held a warmth you couldn’t explain, a sort of gratitude no regular bear could express. Its large snout twitched and it blinked up at you slowly. “You’re such a cutie.” You said softly and wiped its forehead. It let out a grunt and looked away as if it were embarrassed. “Come, you can sleep on my rug.” You said and started making your way toward the living room. Heavy footsteps followed behind you, the old wooden floor of your house creaking underneath its weight. “Sleep here, just don’t break anything please.” You told the beast with a small smile and bid it goodnight.

Sounds of birds chirping and the soft howl of the wind woke you up. Sitting up in bed you yawned, stretching your arms out above your head and twisting your torso around to release tension. Your feet made contact with the cold floor of your bedroom, sluggishly getting up to open your window. You leaned outside and took in a big breath of fresh air, the smell of rain still present in the morning chill. The peaceful moment was cut short by loud clanking coming from downstairs followed by a thump. Startled, you quickly made your way towards the source of the noise. Expecting to find the bear you’ve come to know as your friend, you’re alarmed to see a fully grown man standing in your kitchen with all of your pots and pans spilled onto the ground. You quickly grab one of your kitchen knives and firmly hold it towards the intruder. “Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my house?” You ask calmly. The man’s eyes widen and he puts his hands up. “Uhm uhh...” He mumbles, clearly taken aback. “I’m Namjoon.” He says and raises a brow, sounding more like a question than a statement. “How did you get in?” You question, tilting your head up and straightening your posture, trying your best to intimidate him. “You let me in last night.” His response takes you off guard, before you can reply to it his hand goes up to his head and he points at a pair of brow ears you hadn’t noticed before. That’s when it clicks. The large grizzly bear you had befriended wasn’t entirely a bear after all. Everything made sense now.

“Why did you steal from me?” The sentence flies out of your mouth before you can think about it. “Uhm, I was hungry.” The man replies, his ears drooping and his arms coming back down to his sides. You soften at his words knowing he never meant any harm. Putting the knife back you crouch down to pick up all the pots, he follows suit and the two of you quietly clean up. “So you say your name is Namjoon?” You asked as you began to gather ingredients for breakfast. “Yes.” He responded with a nod of his head. “I’m (Y/N), it’s nice to officially meet you.” You gave a small smile which he returned, adorable dimples appearing on his face. “Would you like some breakfast?” You asked as you rummaged around the kitchen. “Yes!” He responded eagerly to which you chuckled. After a beat of silence he spoke up again. “I’ve been thinking…” You let out a hum, encouraging him to continue. “You’ve kept me fed for so long now and I’ve done pretty much nothing in return. Let me help you with all your farm work to pay off my debt.” He said in a low voice. “You have no debt Namjoon.” You responded and looked at him over your shoulder. “However, a helping hand is always welcome here.” You started cracking eggs into a bowl. “Plus it would be nice to have someone around to talk to, y’know to keep me company.” You said as you started whisking the eggs. “You’ll let me stay?” He asked in disbelief, his voice full of hope. “I don’t see why not, you don’t look very weak and that’s certainly a plus.” You stated as you looked him up and down, giving a playful wink. His eyes winded a bit, but he didn’t comment on it.

After eating together you had decided to give him a proper tour of the property. He seemed particularly interested in your garden and your sculpting workshop. Once you showed him everything you began doing chores together, occasionally chatting and getting to know each other more. You had found out he was a stray hybrid, living on the streets for three years now. He had tried hitch hiking from one town to another about four months ago, when he suddenly got weird vibes from the truck driver he was traveling with. Not wanting to risk anything he ran away once they had pulled into a gas station, never looking back. After wandering through the woods for ages he came across the fence of your estate. At first he wasn’t going to cross it, scared someone would hunt him down and kill him if he entered private property. However, once he had smelled the pie you were baking his hunger got the better of him and he jumped the barrier. Realizing you were a stable source of food he continued to sneak around and eventually ended up here with you. Feeling grave pity for him you decided in that moment that it was your mission to help repair this man and give him the comfortable and fulfilling life he never got the chance to experience. He also told you about some of his friends who were stray hybrids as well, hoping to reunite with them one day. Apparently there were six of them, seven including Namjoon. They helped each other survive when no one else would.

After a long hard day of labor, the two of you came back to the farmhouse. You gave him some of your old oversized clothes and pointed him to your bathroom. He took his first proper shower in a while, enjoying using all of your different products and being pampered. Whilst he took care of his hygiene you got busy with making dinner. As you were grabbing all the ingredients you needed from the refrigerator, you noticed the vanilla tarts you had made the day before. Debating on serving them as dessert your eyes landed on the last couple of strawberries you managed to salvage from your garden, seemingly the bear’s favorite kind of berry to steal while you weren’t looking. Lighting up at the idea of combining the two foods for your friend to enjoy, you giddily got to work with dinner, the idea of surprising Namjoon lingering in your mind the entire time. Once he came out of the bathroom your eyes raked his form. Admiring how the large clothes fitted his frame and the way he did his best to dry his damp hair and ears with a towel. It only now dawned on you how handsome he was, this being the first time you truly took a moment to observe him since you initially saw his human form. His eyes caught yours, before you could get lost in their dark color you cleared your throat. “You hungry? I’m almost done with making dinner.” You asked and quickly started stirring the pot of sauce you were making. “I’m starving. Need any help?” He replied to which you instructed him to set the table.

The meal was fairly quiet, both of you lost in your own thoughts. When both of your plates were empty and your bellies almost entirely full, he was about to get up from the table. “Not so fast!” You said with a small smile. “I’m not going anywhere, I swear I was gonna help you clean up!” He replied briskly to which you laughed at him. He tilted his head in confusion, still thinking you were trying to scold him for bad manners. “There’s desert.” You said, your smile widening. His eyes lit up and his ears perked up. You could hear clothes shuffling, but he wasn’t moving an inch. That’s when you realized his tail small was wagging underneath his shirt. Trying to bite down your smile, you served the tarts on a plate with your strawberries. His nose moved as he sniffed the air, clearly eager for the treat. “What is it?” He asked in wonder, pointing at the baked good. “It’s a vanilla tart, try it.” You responded, handing him a fork. He eagerly dug in. Once he tasted it he started nodding his head vigorously, a close lipped smile spreading on his face. “You like it?” You asked. “Mhm!” He almost purred out, his taste buds not used to such delicate dishes. “Have a strawberry, I know you like those. Plus it goes well with the vanilla.” You picked up one of the red berries, thoughtlessly bringing it up to his lips. He shyly opened his jaws, holding eye contact as you inserted it into his mouth. His lips closed around it, faintly brushing your finger tips as you pulled your hand away. He slowly chewed, still looking at you. “Good?” You inquired, he leisurely swallowed. “So good.”

Namjoon had been living with you for a few months now. He had started stealing from your garden during last year’s spring and you let him into your home around summer time. It was now late January, your entire property covered in a blanket of crystal white snow. During this time of year you never have much work around the garden, more so focusing on taking care of all of your animals, letting yourself be consumed by reading and sculpting more often than not. “Namu, we’re running out of firewood, we should go chop up some more before it gets dark out.” You said as you poked around the fire you created in the fireplace, not realizing the nickname that slipped from your mouth. “Namu?” He questioned, testing it out on his tongue. “Hm, Namu. I like it.” He looked up in thought, lowering the book he was reading onto his lap. “Wait what was the question?” He suddenly sat up straighter, realizing you said something he didn’t quite comprehend. “I didn’t ask you a question, I said we needed to go get more firewood before it gets dark out.” You plopped down onto your butt from the crouch you were in a moment ago, chuckling at the bear hybrid. He watched you closely, playing with one of the pages of the open book sitting on his thigh. You leaned back on your palms and raised an eyebrow at him, awaiting his response. “Oh, yeah sure. You wanna go now or…?” He broke the eye contact, looking around at nothing in particular. “Yeah, let’s go.” You got up and dusted your hands off, walking up to where he was sitting on the sofa you extended an arm, helping him get up. The two of you got to work with preparing the firewood, Namjoon doing most of the heavy lifting. When you finished with it he turned into his bear form, stating that it’s easier to stay warm that way. He laid on his side on the floor, you leaning against him and petting his soft fur. It was to reserve heat you told yourselves, not being able to admit that the soft touches served as more than just a source of physical warmth.

One night you laid in your bed, covered in heaps of blankets trying to warm your body up, but it just wasn’t working. No matter how many layers of fabric you put onto your body you were still freezing. You crawled out of bed, shivering as the cold air in your room hit your whole body. Shuffling around in the dark for your slippers and robe, you hazily pulled them both on and made your way to the guest room down the hall. Lifting your fist up to the door you softly knocked, a sleepy grumble could be heard from the other side. Taking it as a sign to come in you pushed the door open. “Namu, I can’t sleep from the cold. Can I come sleep in your bed?” You quietly said into the darkness. The lump in the middle of the bed grumbled something, his arm extending and lifting the duvet he was under. You eagerly entered the room and took off your robe and slippers, shimmying into the bed. His arm wrapped around your waist and he pulled you into his warm chest. Finally heating up, you let your body relax into his embrace, letting sleep take over.

Following that night it became a routine to share a bed, the excuse still being the need for warmth. Namjoon had especially grown accustomed to holding you in his sleep. So much so that one afternoon when you went to a nearby town to buy some necessities, he decided to take a nap. He couldn’t find a comfortable position if his life depended on it. Tossing and turning in his bed, he realized his arms felt too empty. He tried hugging one of his pillows, but it wasn’t enough. Huffing in annoyance he decided to go sleep in your bed, the thought of your scent enveloping him made his tail wag immediately. He walked over to your room, plopping down onto your bed and nestling into your sheets. Burying his head into your pillow he inhaled your scent, letting out a satisfied hum at the familiar smell. Though he partially found the comfort he was seeking he still wasn’t fully pleased. He laid in your bed for what felt like hours, missing the way your hands would gently play with his hair and scratch behind his ears. The moment he heard your car pull up into the driveway he shot up from bed, running down the stairs and almost tripping over himself. You entered the house with arms full of bags, setting them down to take off your shoes and jacket. He didn’t even give you a moment to register his presence, immediately enveloping you into an embrace and starting to scent at your neck. “Namjoon, that tickles!” You giggled as his nose brushed against your sensitive skin. Upon hearing your voice he only hugged you tighter. “You okay?” You asked, placing your hand atop his head, suddenly worried by his behavior. “Yeah, I just missed you.” He mumbled into your shoulder. “Was I really gone for that long?” You questioned as you pulled away, trying to get a proper look at his face. Realizing how clingy he was acting, he became embarrassed. He let go of you and awkwardly cleared his throat. “Uhh no.” He said, scratching the back of his neck and looking away. “You can come with next time.” You stated, sensing his shame. The small ears atop his head perked up, a lazy grin spreading on his face. “Yes please.” He responded, a light pink forming on his cheeks.

Eventually the two of you unpacked all of the things you bought. The second you were done Namjoon tugged at your sleeve. Wordlessly, you let him pull you along to wherever he wanted to go. He brought you to your bedroom, laying you down onto your bed. “Sleep.” He mumbled, nosing at your throat and laying down onto your chest. Your hand instinctively rose to his head, scratching at his scalp lightly. You felt a low rumble coming from Namjoon, at first you thought he was just clearing his throat, but then it hit you. “Namu are you purring?” You asked. “Yeah.” He simply responded. “I didn’t know bears could purr.” You chuckled, pleasantly surprised by the discovery. “It doesn’t happen often, but it is possible.” He muttered, nuzzling further into your skin. You grabbed one of his hands, intertwining your fingers together. Slowly you brought it up to your face, placing a gentle peck onto his knuckles. His purring abruptly stopped. “Is this okay?” You asked, your heart dropping at the prospect of making him uncomfortable. He didn’t reply verbally, only placing a soft kiss onto the bare skin of your collarbone, his purrs resuming twice as loud.

#bts x reader #kim namjoon #kim namjoon x reader #rm x reader #rm x you #rm x y/n #namjoon x reader #bts x gender neutral reader #hybrid #hybrid bts #hybrid au #bangtan x reader #bts fluff #bts fanfic

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hisfluer · 1 year

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and i sing of dionysus — o! ivy-crowned god with a smile as dark as the secrets he keeps. i sing and i dance, a flurry of humanity let loose until i am joy unbound! the bindings cannot hold me just as they could not hold you! sweet-smelling god, i ask you to bless me as you bless the vines of the wood. may i grow unfettered, reaching up, up, up! may my voice be loud! may my body shift and change! and may this change be a blessing unto you! oh, dark-curled god, flushed with wine and eternal youth — may i bloom, bloom, and bloom! give me the will to never back away from the awe-struck joy that it is to be alive — may i never shrink but only grow as you grew from impossibility. may i find favor in your heart & may your hands turn my meekness into wild opportunity.

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morallyinept · 4 months

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A Christmas One Shot follow up to my Joel Miller series, Five Days.

Five Days Series Masterlist

☝🏻It would be ideal for you to read the series first if you haven't yet, as this one shot follows on from this series directly. You can read it as a stand alone, but some things might not make sense.

Summary: Months after the final events in Five Days, you and Joel prepare for the next event in your lives at the commune - your wedding day.

Pairing: Post-Outbreak Joel Miller x MatureF!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. However reader is of a similar age range as Joel; in her late forties/early fifties. Joel is slightly older at 56.)

Word Count: 7.7k

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️🌶️ “You tell me I’m doing well, and then, you try to kill me.”

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Explicit - Unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/oral M receiving/fingering/angst/mentions of death

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.

☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned. If this story isn't for you, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: An additional festive part, wrapping up Joel and Reader's journey, with a spangly Christmas bow on top. Thank you again to everyone who has read and enjoyed Five Days. Truly means the world. Happy Holidays! 🎄

Enjoy! 🖤

FIVE DAYS SERIES MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

Your breath fogs the pane, a condensed, misty cloud as you breathe, surveying the view below in the main square.

The small commune square is adorned with makeshift festive decorations, remnants of the world that once thrived with the capitalist depiction of it all. Buzzing with a distinct holiday cheer, despite the lees of the post-apocalyptic world surrounding it just outside the gates.

Improvised string lights hang from makeshift structures with a welcome, twinkling glow, despite the sky still being light outside, albeit a little more grey now. The pleasant threat of more snowfall lingers in the distance.

In one corner, a group of children - some of whose faces you can put names to now - their laughter echoing through the air, work together to craft snowmen from the scarce patches of snow that still adorn the ground from the recent flurry.

This winter hasn’t been as harsh as you’d expected yet, but the winter of your discourse still remains heavy on your shoulders despite finding some semblance of daily normality here.

You even have a job now, tending to the horses. It’s basically mucking out and feeding, but you’re keen to learn and prove yourself as someone who can pull their weight. Plus, being parted from the black mare for too long, whom you rode to and from the outpost, leaves you with a sense of unease.

Her big, glassy eyes fill you with some comfort the more time you spend with her; those gentle head butts into your own, when it all gets a bit much, reassures you she feels your pain and shares it with you. You’ve since discovered her name is Ashen.

You watch, curiously, as a trellis of flowers is lifted by several men and settled into place. A graceful arch, fashioned from salvaged and repurposed wood, and built and sanded down by Joel himself as a project over the last few weeks - a gift for your wedding day. It's now decorated in vines and dried wild flowers, preserved in their seasonal beauty and uniqueness.

You remember rubbing salve into his splintered hands in the evenings, massaging around his stubby thumbs and calloused palms as he winced and groaned at the rawness fading away before those hands would grip onto your skin and leave you gasping with fading imprints. He really is so good with his hands…

“Here,” Sal’s voice rouses you from your heated reverie and the view outside.

Turning, her hair is pinned neatly and she looks younger somehow. More at ease, more feminine than you’ve ever seen her. Flaming red hair matches her lips and her eyes sparkle.

You smile, taking the delicate lace that she holds out for you, and you step into it, allowing her to button you up.

“Are you nervous?” She asks you as her nimble fingers work. Your eyes are still transfixed out the window as rows of unmatching chairs are lined up by working bodies.

Seems like the whole commune is involved in contributing to the preparations.

You shake your head. “No. Feels right.” You say, agreeing with the stringent relief that prevents any butterflies from flapping their sickly wings. “Feels like it should have already happened, years ago.” You confess, smiling as you smooth down the lace around your cuffs.

“Joel’s a lucky man.”

You shake your head. “No, I’m the lucky one.” Luck, despite everything, seemed to have had your back all along. Although the paths it led you down to find it, you’re not so sure about.

“Let me get a look at you.” Sal says as she steps back. You turn to face her and she sighs in awe.

“Christy has outdone herself. This dress is stunning.” Sal murmurs, her eyes glistening.

“She really has.” You say, admiring the mid-length, hand-made, gown that sits snugly against your body. Made from scraps of lace, Christy, the resident seamstress, has managed to make a dress that’s perfectly suited for the occasion. Simple, elegant, but meaningful.

“Look,” Sal says, adjusting the mirror and you catch sight of yourself.

The lace is delicate and stitched with love and envious talent, and weaves across the front of your collarbone and down your arms. There’s a slight dip in the back as it hangs a little lower down your spine before cascading into a waterfall of buttons, some mismatching, some with sparkly gems in the centre, but it’s forgiven and actually adds to the charm.

The dress is simply more than you ever thought possible, more than you probably deserve. More than you ever thought you’d have in this lifetime.

“You’re beautiful.” Sal says, dabbing at her eyes.

“Stop. You’re going to make me cry.”

She laughs, a little choke being swallowed down. “I just wish Kelper was here to see you like this.”

“Sal-” You begin with a choking lump in your throat.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry.” You shake your head. “I wish he could too.”

You spend a moment regarding one another; her eyes wandering into the painful territory of yours as you both recall the eviscerating loss.

Both thriving in it for a few moments, sharing in the grief that has lingered in the marrow of your bones for the past five months or so. Paused, sometimes, in that moment when Tommy relayed over the walkie-talkie the devastation that Kelper had perished in the fight against the infected horde.

It still seems like yesterday and centuries ago. And you were mad, hopping mad with him for a while after your return to the commune; mad that he could be so foolish, so selfish, as to leave you all without him.

But with time, taking each day, each sunrise and sunset, one foot in front of the other, the anger dissipated into raw grief. And it walks alongside you now, linking arms with all the other’s you've lost in your life.

Another name on a chalkboard above a fireplace, another ribbon tied to a tree. Another splinter in your heart.

While the anticipation of marrying Joel fills you with inexplicable joy and pertinent relief, the absence of Kelper, casts a malignant shadow, a blot on the sun.

The glint of excitement in your eyes is tempered by a soft sadness that hovers like a wailing banshee that’s attached itself to your side permanently it feels; it won't stop screaming in your ear. A tribute to the friend, partner, even soulmate, who had been your anchor in tumultuous times of endurance and survival.

Yet, as you stand ready to embark on this new chapter with Joel in a world that still seems so uncertain at times, still so… frightening, despite being safe behind reinforced walls, you find some strength in the enduring gravity of love.

Kelper's memory, a guiding presence now in some ways when he talks to you when you most need it, whispers words of encouragement, reminding you that even in loss, love persists in this broken world and it’s worth finding and clinging onto.

It’s the reason you’re still alive.

And it's something you hold on to, even if your fingers ache from gripping it too tightly.

Even when the grief consumes and you sob unabashed and uncontrollably into Joel’s broad shoulders in the middle of the night.

And he holds you through it, anchoring you and steering you back to yourself as you work through it; a golden compass bringing you home when you lose your way in the dark.

Sal picks up the make-up brush and hands it to you with a gentle smile as you dab at your eyes, and you chuckle.

“I love you,” she says gently, nodding.

You pull her towards you and cradle her tightly.

“I love you, more.” You say, clinging on and wondering if you’ll ever find the strength to let her go again.

“Well, I’ll be fuckin’ damned.” Tommy says, taking off his Stetson as he ambles into the room.

“Don’t ya say it.” Joel warns with a frown.

“Ya don’t know what I was goin’ to say.” Tommy smiles with an adept grin.

“Yeah. I do.” Joel says, turning, his hands fiddling with the tie.

Joel regards his younger brother narrowly as he steps into the room and bounds up to him. “Was gonna say ya look handsome, is all.”

“Yeah, right.” Joel scoffs. ”Help me with this thing, will ya? It’s all fuckin’ knotted up to hell.” Joel gruffs with a heavy sigh, tempting to forgo the tie entirely, lest he strangle himself with it first.

“Ya comb your hair?” Tommy asks, and Joel ducks as he goes to swipe at it.

“Leave off.” He says, checking it’s still in place.

For once, his unruly curls have been slicked down and back neatly, silver streaking through them that appears metallic in the wet gel, and seems more prominent these days.

As Joel dons the smartest plaid shirt he owns, and his standard pair of jeans that have seen better days, a mixture of emotions play across his weathered features despite his hardest at trying to mask them. It’s getting harder these days to keep it up.

The nervous excitement of marrying you, the love of his life, is palpable, but it dances alongside a more subdued undercurrent of opaque reflection.

“Ya nervous?” Tommy asks, as he straightens up Joel’s tie. He sees how his face is pulled tight in that ever present frown.

Joel nods, then shrugs. “Were you? When you n’ Maria tied the knot?”

“Was shittin’ myself.” Tommy admits with a bashful smile.

“Why?”

Tommy shrugs. “It’s forever, man.”

“But, that’s the point, ain’t it?” Joel queries after a moment’s pause.

“Yeah… I dunno. Maybe.”

“Ya regret it?” Joel asks, peering at his younger brother who still seems to be ageing at a much slower rate than Joel; it makes him grind down on his back molars.

Tommy immediately shakes his head, slick oiled curls tousling as he does so.

“No. S’not what I meant. I love Maria n’ I wanted to marry her. Just feels… different now, y’know? Like, to how it would‘ve been back then. Means somethin’ more than just vows now, I think. Somethin’... profound.”

“Profound, huh?” Joel snorts. He never thought he'd hear Tommy say something like that. Didn’t even know he knew the meaning of the word.

“Yeah, like serendipity or some shit. Wasn't lookin’ for it, n’ there she was. She makes me a better man, Joel.” Tommy says quietly.

He glances briefly at his brother’s eyes, the same dark eyes they share from their mother, and then back to the tie. “Ya lady do that for you?”

“Mm. She does.” Joel agrees, his fingers buzzing slightly at the thought.

“Shit, what did ya do with this thing?” Tommy chuckles, as he fights with the knot.

“I dunno. First time I’ve ever had to wear one.” Joel grits.

“Ya tellin’ me.” Tommy snorts.

Joel remains quiet, thoughtfully contemplating. Thinking about back before the outbreak, and what it would’ve been like if he’d married you whilst you were both still young and fresh faced. When he might've known how to tie a fuckin’ tie by himself.

And of course, he had intended to, even brought a ring; spent ages picking it out, but he never got to give it to you.

You’d left.

He briefly wonders what happened to that ring, where it is now on the planet.

A season of what ifs and unanswered scenarios plague his thoughts with spiked edges. Would you have even said yes back then? Would you have lasted, or would a quick divorce have followed?

He knows it’s fruitless to try and unpick it all whilst Tommy battles with the knot that now feels tighter against his throat, but Joel’s always been a brooding thinker, much to his detriment at times.

But he can't help but think about the journey that’s brought him to this day - the years of separation from you, the trials faced, the things he’s done in the darkest chapters of his life. The loved ones he’s lost along the way.

Sarah’s face flashes in his mind, her soft eyes and gentle smile beaming at him, and he bows his head, sighing.

“Y’alright?” Tommy asks.

“Yeah,” Joel mutters.

He takes in a slow, deep breath, steadying himself against the swirl of emotions he can already feel lingering in the dark corners, brewing, flexing their claws ready to tear deep gashes in his skin. They never really leave.

Tommy finishes manipulating the tie and he taps Joel’s shoulder affectionately when it’s done.

Joel turns to the small, chipped shaving mirror to get a better look at it, and hums in a mirthed satisfaction. “It’ll do.” He supposes.

“M’happy for you, Joel.” Tommy says, and Joel glances up at him through the mirror. “Ya deserve it, some peace. A good woman to come home to who’ll rub ya feet.”

“She hates feet.” Joel states rather po-faced.

Tommy smiles, breaking into an airy chuckle and so does Joel. The chortles between them sounding so foreign despite their intensity as they mutate into wheezed laughter.

And then Joel does something he feels like he hasn’t done for a long time, and should probably do more often.

He pulls his younger brother Tommy into a tight, binding hug.

“I love ya, man.” Tommy says.

“You too.” Joel mutters.

“C’mon, let’s get ya married.” Tommy states, clapping his back like thunder.

Tables adorned with scavenged tablecloths showcase a humble feast of canned goods, preserved fruits, and perhaps a few hunted game offerings in the Tipsy Bison.

The survivors of the commune, dressed in their best makeshift attire, share muted stories, laughter, and the precious company of one another, forming a close-knit family that has thrown up two fingers in the face of adversity as they pack out the chairs just outside the bar, some standing at the back of the makeshift aisle as the whole commune comes to bear witness.

The nip in the air has them huddling in coats and scarfs, but the atmosphere is incredibly warm and inviting.

Guthrie stands at the head of the trellis, bible in hand and in his smartest pressed shirt ready to officiate in a world where laws are just spoken words now instead of legal documents.

But it doesn’t matter, because in matters of the heart, it's more than binding.

Tommy and Joel wait in front of him. Maria sits with her baby bouncing on her knee, cooing quietly. Max looks on from the opposite side of the trellis, wearing an excited grin that makes his jaw ache.

Hands clasped in front, Joel’s fingers twitch as he clears his throat nervously.

“Not long now, brother.” Tommy says, clapping him on the back again, and Joel swallows thickly through the heavy wind of it.

As Joel stands at the makeshift altar beneath the trellis arch he’d spent days carving intricately, adorned with the dried flowers collected by good natured souls, the weight of the moment presses upon him.

The air, usually filled with the festive sounds of the commune, now feels dense and stifling around him. The tie feels tight once more at his throat as he swallows with a now dry, grazed windpipe.

The trepidation that’s lingered in the corners of his mind crystallises into an overwhelming wave of anxiety. And he hears that little voice creep up again from behind his shoulders.

She’s not coming, Joel. She doesn’t love you. She could never love you.

His heart races, the sound echoing in his ears like a distant drumbeat. The gentle flutter of muted conversations around him and the soft whispers of the cool, crisp breeze seems to amplify, creating a disorienting cacophony that pierces his eardrums.

Joel's breaths become shallow, each inhale a struggle against an invisible force tightening around his chest. Each breath in seems to scrape against his throat, the air refusing to fill his lungs with ease like it once did.

Joel's hands, usually steady and weathered by years of survival, betray him as they tremble uncontrollably. Eyes fixed on the path where you’ll soon walk towards him, Joel feels the world closing in, seeming to warp and contort, and the edges of his vision blur like a watercolour painting in the rain.

The trellis arch, once a symbol of hope and new beginnings containing his blood, sweat and tears, now seems to loom overhead, threatening to crush him; its shadow dancing with an unsettling rhythm.

The vibrant colours of the flowers mutate into a disorienting palette, dying and crisping before his eyes, and the string lights flicker like lightning, their glow suddenly too harsh, too bright.

Dizzy, he sways as he clutches at his chest, and feels Tommy pressing up against him, like a weighted tackle.

“Joel! Joel!”

His voice is distant, sounding further and further away as Joel spirals, the ground coming up fast; his knees cracking against it.

She could never love you, Joel! Not after everything you’ve done!

Rampant beads of sweat form on Joel's forehead, his hands clammy as they tightly grip on the edges of Tommy’s jacket as he wheezes.

The weight of the moment, the culmination of years of separation and the scars etched into your shared history, bare down on him.

The fear of losing this newfound happiness seizes him in a vice grip until it chokes the life out of him and it all goes black.

Told you Joel.

Told you that you were going to die alone...

He wakes to the sound of continual beeping in his ears.

Beep-beep-beep-beep...

Heavy headed and with a really dry mouth, he sits up to feel a hand pressing gently against his bare sternum.

Following the path of it, the arm adorned in faded lace, he finds your face, pressed tight in its worry and concern.

He did it, he let you down. Completely and irrevocably, just like he knew he would.

“Slowly,” you ease, as he sits himself upright against a pillow that feels like it's barely there.

“Don’t fuss, m’alright.” Joel sighs, glancing down at his chest, shirt open and no sign of his damned tie. “S’all this?” He tweaks at the wires curiously stuck to his chest.

“They thought you might have had a heart attack.” You say, gravely.

“What?” His eyes widen and snap to yours.

“It was a panic attack, Joel.” You say, softly. “You’re okay.”

He frowns, his eyes shying away from yours. He feels your fingers knotting into his hand, thumb stroking reassuringly over the thick gristle of his knuckles.

“I ruined our day,” he mutters through clenched teeth.

“No. You didn’t." You shake your head. "Hey, look at me.” You sway.

“I can’t. M’not supposed to see ya yet.”

“Joel. Look at me.” You press, delicately.

Slowly, he finds the courage to face you, head on, and he can’t believe what he sees. You, staring at him with the same adoration you’ve had etched into your features since the very beginning.

From that moment your eyes met when you were flighty, little things, when the world was kinder and had less teeth.

The same way you looked at him when you bumped into him outside The Tipsy Bison all those months ago, stunting him and making him believe that a bland, beige thing such as a miracle could really exist.

You, looking at him with those same adoring eyes when he made love to you again, after all those years that had passed between you. Decades of swampy regret and missing pieces that no-one else could really fit into or fill; connected with you again on some other level that could only transcend his mere understanding.

And he knows he's undeserving. That even though he shouldn’t listen to it, that insidious little voice is right. He doesn't deserve you looking at him like this.

But he never wants you to stop.

“Ya look… so beautiful, darlin’,” he chokes out.

You smile and pat his stacked chest. “You scrub up pretty well yourself, Mr Miller.”

You lean forward and place a kiss on his temple, just below the spikey, flower-shaped scar.

Joel closes his eyes, savouring the feel of you, your breath settling into his pores. Inhaling the smell of fragrant soap on your skin; the scent of the lavender perfume that’s made in the commune and dessciates the pillows in your bed.

“Ya got all prettied up for me.” He says looking up at you, fingers brushing against the side of your cheek with a dusting of powder to accentuate your skin tone, and a light sheen of highlighter that makes you glow. “Ya glowin’.” He confirms, awestruck.

His lips find yours, tasting the balm on them. Your fingers scratch in the waves behind his ears; his once slicked back hair now ruffled and fluffy again behind his ears.

“Everyone knows? They saw, I-”

You smile, softly. “It’s okay, it’s nothing to be ashamed of, Joel. They were all worried, because they care about you.”

He frowns again and squeezes your hand. “M’sorry. Don’t want ya to worry.”

“Too late. You’re stuck with my worry.” You smile.

“S’not too late, ya know.” He says, tentatively with a small voice.

“Too late for what?”

He sighs heavily. He turns towards the machine that’s beeping annoyingly in his ear and jabs at a button, but it doesn’t silence it.

“If you even think about saying what I think you’re going to say, you’ll be spending months in here, Joel. Multiple broken bones.” You warn and he shakes his head, unable to contain the small smirk that threatens to tear up the corners of his mouth.

“M’not gonna say it.”

“Good.”

“But, it’s not too late.” He reminds you anyway with a gruff peep.

“Is that what you want?” You question, your heart is already trying to make a run for it out of any orifice that will allow its escape.

“God, no.” He looks at you sincerely, eyes deep and reassuring in their richness. "I always want you."

“Then stop being a dork.”

He snorts, rolling his eyes. “Dork…”

You squeeze his hand and he places his other on top of them both.

“What’d we do now?” He queries and you can still see the weight he carries behind his eyes.

“I have an idea. Can you walk?”

Joel nods as he pulls off the sticky patches from his chest, and the infernal beeping finally stops.

Ashen comes to a halt at your gentle command, and Joel helps you off after dismounting the tan stallion that he rode with you up to the outpost those few months ago.

Since then, settling into a gentle sway of life in the commune had been a constant that you never knew you needed, or missed so much, as you began building a new life with Joel by your side.

But there was a mild fidget in you that couldn’t be settled; a part of you that always remained on alert, and Joel sensed it in you because that same sense lingered in him too.

Life experience had taught you both not to rest so easily, to leave a limb out of the tub and not fully submerge; to leave a backpack stocked with supplies by the door in case you had to go quickly in the night.

Old habits die hard.

But shared with Joel made them easier to accept, to shoulder the weight equally instead of alone. It could be left placed and fuzzy, in the peripherals to fade out for a while, but it was always there.

You both walk a few paces up a short incline, your dress is covered by a coat and scarf, and Joel’s shirt has been rebuttoned with a sweater and a coat of his own thrown over the top.

You feel the heavy weight of the handgun in your pocket, knocking against your thigh. Joel’s own is holstered to his waist under his coat.

The wind is a little harsher in its nip up here, but the view is worth it.

Looking down into the valley, the Wyoming mountains spread out in the distance with their snowy caps like shark's jaws on the landscape; the commune seems like a tiny dot in the centre of the horizon.

“It’s beautiful, no?” You say wistfully, as the wind pulls tendrils from your styled hair that stick to your lips.

“Not as beautiful as you,” Joel says, his arms wrapping around you. You feel him plant a kiss on the side of your cheek and it warms you, from your toes up.

“Look,” you say to him, and you pull him gently with you towards the shelter of a large tree, its branches, almost shed full of its leaves, swaying rhythmically in the breeze.

Under the canopy of the majority of its stripped branches, your fingers place Joel’s onto the rough ridges of the bark, trailing them towards some carvings.

“What's this?” He asks as he studies the letters.

“You made the trellis for me, for us in our garden. Well, this is my wedding gift to you.” You say with a warm smile.

Joel runs his fingers over the letters, a familiar S as he reads the name Sarah carved into the wood. Underneath, another name is carved. Kelper.

“This is what ya did with my “missin'” tools, hmm?” He queries with a cocked brow.

You grin coyly. “If I told you my evil plan, you'd have put the kibosh on it.”

“S’like ya know me so well,” Joel nods. “Ya came out here by yourself?” He frowns.

“I’m a big girl, Joel.” You remind him and he reluctantly nods after gritting his teeth.

He glances up to see ribbons fluttering in the breeze, and reaches up to feel their silkiness between his fingers.

“Ya did this, for me?”

You nod. “This is the highest tree in the valley. I’ve been all over this valley the past few months trying to find the perfect one. I was safe… Sal was with me.” You assure him when you see his nostrils flare.

You turn to look at the names on the tree. “They’re both looking down on us, Joel. From all the way up here. Sarah and Kelper.”

“Darlin’,” he says, as your eyes mist over.

He reaches for your hand and pulls you in close. He looks at the names on the tree, smiling into your hair as he imagines Sarah indeed looking down on him and smiling proudly.

At least, he hopes he’ll be able to make her proud going forward - the past, he’s doubtful about that.

“Ya amaze me every day.” Joel says.

“I just wanted a place that was ours, to remember them. They should both be here today. And this way... it’s like they are.”

Joel nods. “Marry me, here.”

“Right here, now?”

He nods as he strokes your arms. “Yeah… feels perfect. With them.”

You smile at him, wondering how you made it. Wondering how life, despite it's cruelty, had given you this perfect morsel of happiness.

“Have you got the rings?” You ask him.

He fishes into his jeans pocket and opens his palm to reveal two gold bands. Both a little misshapen from years of wear.

“I wonder who they belonged to,” you say, smiling at the metal hoops looking so dainty and small in his gargantuan palm.

“Two people that were very much in love, I reckon.”

“Yeah. They were. Utterly mad for each other.” You agree.

“Probably drivin' each other mad too,” he smirks.

“You like it when I keep you on your toes.” You remind him starkly and with a brewing grin.

“Mm-hm.” He murmurs. “Like a hole in the head.”

You reach into his palm and take the bigger ring and take his opposite hand in yours.

You glance at the tree for a moment, smiling, remembering. Then you look up at Joel. Look at the man who carried you on through this world, even if he wasn’t physically there for most of it.

“Joel,” you begin, letting the words flow freely. “I never thought in my wildest dreams we’d be here. I never thought that all those years of fighting, surviving… enduring. I never thought that they’d lead me back to you. Fate sure is a funny thing, isn’t it?”

“I sure as hell ain’t laughin’.” He says and you smirk.

You place the ring on his thick finger, sliding it all the way down. “I love you.” You say looking at him. “I’ve always loved you. I will always love you, until I die. And even then, I’ll still love you, Joel.”

Blushing, he smiles. Then he takes your hand, the remaining ring poised at the tip of your finger.

“Darlin’... I don’t think there’s anythin’ I could say that would make it feel truly real. Still feels like a dream sometimes. But then I wake up, and ya there beside me. And I don’t know how that happened, not really. It’s somethin’ I just can’t even wrap my head around, y’know?” His voice carries a blend of warmth and sincerity.

“I know.” You smile.

“Two lucky son’s o’ bitches. But you’re real, you’re here. I found ya. God willing, I fuckin’ found ya again. And I promise to cherish ya, darlin’, in all ya strength n’ vulnerability. Your stubbornness-”

You giggle and he smiles, tucking a wisp of wayward hair behind your ear.

“You're my home in this unpredictable world… I love ya, darlin’. Not just for who ya are, but for who we've become together." He gulps, holding back a choke as you watch his eyes glisten.

"Ya make... ya make me a better man. The kind of man I wanna be for ya. M'bound to ya. Ya have me bound to you, forever.”

“Joel,” you say as your own eyes water, and he bends to kiss you, taking your lips in his as the wind whips around you both, and pulls you tight into his warmth. Pulls you deeper into his heart.

I knew he was a good man, Goose.

You glance over Joel’s shoulder to see Kelper standing there leaning against the tree grinning at you.

You smile, nodding gently at your old friend before closing your eyes, tears falling from them like tiny diamonds scattered over Joel's shoulder, and clinging on tighter to him.

Joel inhales the scent of your hair, holding you hard in his arms as the breeze billows around you both and he swears he's never been more elated, more satiated in his bones and flesh.

If he were to die now, he would die happy, and it's a thought that now comforts him, whereas for so long, it's been one that terrified him.

He lets himself bask, lets himself wander further into this pastel dream and stay there, ruminating for a few more moments in the calm bliss of your arms.

Dad.

He’s roused, eyes snapping open as he hears the familiar voice; a voice he had thought he had forgotten, and then a face he was convinced had slipped his mind also is there, smiling at him.

Familiar eyes, that scent of coconut shampoo filling his nose, and frizzy hair that he could never tame in the way she liked when she was smaller, billows in the wind.

Sarah, his daughter, is smiling at him, clear as day, a few feet in front, and he feels it lurch in his chest.

So do you, as you feel his body stiffen under your embrace, and he steps forward, confused to be met with nothing again.

“Did you…?” Joel murmurs out, his voice lost on a confused gasp.

You turn to see what he’s looking at so intently, but there’s nothing there except the whisper of the wind.

“You alright?” You ask, pulling away from him to look at his face, eyes staring a little way down the hill and filling with water that he frantically blinks away.

“Yeah.” Joel turns to you, stunned and speechless for a few moments. The familiar, expected stab in his heart rearing its ugly head fails to ice him over.

Instead, he feels awash with a sincere warmth, from where it emanates, he’s not entirely sure.

“Y’know what? For the first time in a hell of a long time, I really think I am.” He says.

You smile at him as you nuzzle into his neck.

“Jesus…” he mutters as he wraps his arms back around you. “Thought I saw I fuckin’ ghost for a minute there.”

You smile, knowing that he saw what he needed to. The same as you do when you need it.

He rubs at your back. “S’getting a little cold, we should head back soon.”

“Can we stay up here, just a little while longer?” You ask gently, as you both watch the winter sun setting slowly behind the mountains.

“We can do whatever ya want, darlin’.” Joel murmurs, smiling into your shoulder.

By the time you and Joel made it back, the celebrations had moved into the Tipsy Bison as the expected snow started to billow from the sky.

Candles flicker on the tables, creating an intimate atmosphere that contrasts with the harsh wilderness beyond the commune's borders. Handcrafted Christmas decorations and salvaged ornaments add a touch of festivity to the surroundings, creating a unique blend of the old and the new world.

As the night unfolds, Joel and you move through the crowd, your smiles radiant with the joy of your unity as everyone wants a piece of you both.

The celebrations carry on with a mixture of traditional and improvised festivities - a dance floor, a communal song led by Max and a beaten guitar, with a surprisingly melodic voice which awes you at his secret talent. Guthrie dances with you, twirling you around as you smile and clap.

The large Christmas tree in the corner twinkles with gold, glittery lights that reflect in your eyes as Joel looks into them as he sways gently with you.

Impromptu speeches that celebrate love, survival, and the strength of the human bond follow with laughter, and Tommy leads a toast to the both of you with minimal embarrassment for Joel, much to his relief.

But despite the laughter, the warmth, you catch Joel’s face a little later, and the familiar need for a moment of respite creeps over his features as the frown tugs further at his smile somewhat as the night moves on.

His smile hides years of pain underneath it, convincing you he's fine when you ask him. Some days, he believes it himself.

But he doesn't want to spoil this for you, drag you away, but he also wants to have you to himself; be selfish and attenuate that need that flourishes hot in his veins.

He searches you out as you’re engaging with Sal, Max and Guthrie, and catches your eye, quelling everything loud around him.

In the middle of the chaos, there’s you.

You know him too well, even after three decades of separation, you can still read him without words, and you decide too, that you’ve had enough of smiles and wine.

You both slip out, leaving your expanded family and friends to celebrate as late as they want without you both.

In the secluded corners of your home, away from the festivities, you and Joel allow the weight of your tumultuous journey to fall free from your shoulders and leave it outside.

The echoes of the after-party seem distant, drowned out by the heavy thrumming of your heart in your ears.

Once inside the warmth of your shared home, the safety and privacy of the walls Joel had built once upon a time with his bare hands, those hands of his take to your waist and pull you towards him as he attaches himself to your lips.

He dips and slants, moaning softly against your mouth; pulling your head closer to his with a giant, swamping hand, slipping his other around you and drawing you closer against his taught body that always has a slight tremble to it.

Behind him, the lock on the door clicks shut as you reach for it. Your heart rate speeds up as you melt into him, skin melding together like melted candle wax.

You and Joel are very alone and very close, pushed up tight against one another; bodies reacting and heating up. His broad chest crushes into your own as you feel the increase in his heartbeat against your own rib cage.

You run your hand down his chest towards his groin, searching out that thick hardness you can already feel pressing against you.

Then, you feel him lifting you; arms swooping under you and pulling your feet off the floor.

“Joel!” You squeal as he heaves and steps forward.

"It’s tradition.” He says, stepping forward quickly towards the bedroom.

"Your back!" You wail, giggling.

You cling on around his neck, and he clumsily falls with you onto the bed laughing.

Your hands find his face as he lays on top of you, staring intently into his deep brown eyes.

“What?” He questions as you trace his lips with your fingers, watching as he kisses the tips of them.

“You’re so fucking strong. Do I ever tell you that?” You say with awe.

“Sometimes… not nearly enough.” He chuckles.

“Lay back, old man.” You say, winking at him.

“Oi, less of the old.” He says as you shuffle out from underneath him.

“It’s hot.” You say.

He watches you crawl over him. “Ya wanna be in charge do ya, darlin’?”

“Mm, is your back gonna let you lead?”

He scoffs, and then nods in defeat, retreating hastily backwards on the bed as you straddle him.

“Didn’t think so…” You smile, as you kiss him.

He slips his tongue inside your mouth, the remnants of a few whiskeys in celebration lace his gums.

His hands slide down your waist to cup your ass, squeezing it; pressing you against his crotch as you kiss him deeply, leaning over him. He breaks off, burying his face in the soft column of your throat that feels clammy already with anticipation.

He licks the salt of it, scraping his teeth against the soft perfumed flesh there, licking and nipping, sucking it between his lips hungrily.

"Ya too good to me, darlin’."

You keep your eyes on his face, noticing the way the tip of his tongue teases the middle of his upper lip as he looks hungrily at you. How his Adam's apple bobs with each thick swallow in anticipation.

How those deep, trusting eyes lance at you as you unbutton his shirt.

Joel watches as you trail wet, lingering kisses over his skin; skin mottled with freckles and silvery hairs, a liver spot here or there.

How you kiss and lick each scar delicately that he bears; the one on his hip from where he was shot at on outbreak day. The one where he was gutted trying to save Ellie from raiders.

He shivers as you explore every weak spot he’s ever had, birthing new life into the dead skin.

Watches keenly as you run your tongue around his nipples, sucking over them gently as he hisses in response. Shudders as you kiss down the centre towards his navel, swollen with age around his tummy that you lavish more affection and desire all over, running your cheeks against it.

Joel hitches his breath as you unbuckle his belt and free him from his jeans.

He’ll never get tired of watching you do that, of taking his throbbing, thick cock so slowly and hungrily into your mouth; hearing you whine in satisfaction as you taste him again.

Feeling how it tingles down to the root of him as he slides down your throat and packs you out until you can’t breathe.

He’s moaning like a dying man as you suck him with eyes that meet his with unspoken praise and worship.

He reaches down, weaving through your hair, letting it fall free of the pins that held it precariously in place all day. Combs through it as you lick up the length of him and suckle on the head of his cock, feeling it throughout your own body, the heat travelling in the streams of your arteries.

“Take this off,” he says tugging at the hem of your dress, and you’re soon naked on top of him, bodies growing warm and slick together as you kiss deeply and grind subtly against one another.

“Too long since I was inside ya.” He laments into your ear in a hot whisper.

“It’s only been a couple of days, Joel.” You smirk.

“Too fuckin’ long.” He corrupts.

He runs his thumb over your stiff nipple and cups your breast gently inside his warm palm. "Ya so beautiful, darlin'." He breathes.

He reaches down between your legs and slides his finger against your clit, watching as you jolt with the gentlest of brushes.

“So sensitive, aren’t ya?” He cajoles.

“Mmm,” you nod, hands on his chest as he slips in; finger stroking inside your wet folds.

He pulls out and slips another one in, marvelling at how you arch and mewl above him as he pumps slowly.

You wind you hips, pushing against his fingers as he fucks you keenly with them. Pressing deep against the right spots and stroking you closer with each curl of them.

“Look at you, so fuckin’ beautful.” He groans. "All for me, all mine."

“Joel, I’m gonna come,” you moan, fingers gripping into his chest meat as you feel yourself bunching tight already.

Grabbing his cock, he guides his engorged head between your puffy, wet pussy lips in place of his fingers.

“If ya gonna come, ya come on my cock, darlin’.” He pushes in gently, thick head notching into you slowly, letting you suck him in. Sliding slowly and purposefully so you can feel all of him.

Savouring, appreciating, falling further with you.

“Joel!” You gasp, the pinch of him still present as he enters; a sensation that’ll never falter.

He reaches up, mouth grazing over your breast, nipple between his teeth and gently sucks as you slide down the full length of him, taking him in deep, where he belongs.

Joel belongs inside of you.

He pulls you up, large hands crossed around your lower back as he lifts you up and down on his cock, sliding almost the full way out, leaving just the head precariously lipped inside you, until he brings you back down onto the full hilt of him, bottoming out each time he does it.

He grunts with you; warm breaths pelted into your skin like ink blots where they spread, staining you with him.

He begins slow, measured thrusts up into you; you push back, grinding with him, the tightness of your hole now slickly wonderful around his thick cock. He draws out a few inches at a time before pushing in deep, to the sound of plentiful, needy whines from you.

“Fuck, ya feel so good around me, darlin’,” he groans into your chest.

Laying back, giant hands caressing your breasts, he lets you work, lets you take control. Watches keenly, as you ride him deeply, with a heated fever as the sweat starts to slick down your back.

His hips push up to meet you when he senses you’re losing it, losing your control as your gasps pitch higher, becoming more frantic in their raspiness as your cunt tightens around him.

“Joel!” You gasp like you’re sobbing; the cadence stripped from your throat as he grunts in agreement with you at how good it feels, how good it feels to have you on the end of his cock soaking him with all the pleasure that he feeds you.

And it’s something he’ll never tire of. He’ll never want to stop giving you this, giving you all of him.

“There ya go, darlin’...” He ushers. "Ya close, ain't ya?"

“Mmm, yeah…” You can feel it, that glitter starter to gather under your eyelids, the bones in your spine pulling tight and ready to crack open the moment that hot bolt travels down it and into your core.

He winds you tighter around that spool, the slack almost unbearable. Your toes curl inwards, your thighs shake and your whole body tenses up.

"Come for me!" Joel growls, encouragingly.

Over and over he fucks into you, his fingers digging into your hips where they’ll leave bruises that he’ll kiss later.

Your voice is shaking as you stutter incoherently, a babbling mantra of his name. “Joel, Joel, Joel…”

“Ya keep sayin’ my name. This cock s'makin’ ya feel really good, hmm?” He grunts into your face.

“So good, Joel… Oh my God, don’t stop!”

“Are ya gonna come for me? Ya gonna come all over my cock, darlin’?”

“Yeah… I’m coming. I’m coming, Joel! Fuck!”

A warm, desperate shudder pours out of you at his command; your entire body convulses, fingers gnarl around his skin. You cry out, your lungs disintegrate into mottled dust as it leaves you; punching that glitter out of your back once more into the air for you to breathe in and choke on the metallic fragments.

“That’s it. Give it to me… All over me. Like that. Don't stop comin’."

His lips chase yours, brushing sweetly against them with a peck and smooch to remind you he’s still there; your tether, no matter how high you fly above him.

You clutch onto his shoulders, nails digging into the tanned skin as he pushes you back down on his cock, filling you up again. The constant symphony of his pants fill your ears, that subtle weakness in them; that tremor at the back of his throat as he draws closer to his finish.

“That, right there… fuck,” he grunts.

“That feel good?” You groan as your hips swivel intently.

“Yeah… s’way ya look at me like this.” He moans.

“How do I look at you, Joel?” You breathe.

“Like ya love me.” His voice cracks at the sound of it in the air. The realisation, the acceptance, The finality of his being.

“I do love you. I love you so fucking much.” You gasp.

“I love ya too, darlin’. Fuck, do I love you! Shit!” He strains, his muscles pulling tight, the tension in his jaw locking.

“Come for me, fill your wife up, Joel.” You urge.

"Fuck!"

He yanks you towards him, face tumbling into him as he catches you in a kiss as he whines against your lips as he comes deep inside you. Soft whines flow from his plush mouth into yours as he twitches and empties.

His thrusts gently still to an eventual stop, feeling the warmth of his spend flooding around his cock inside you.

He kisses you intently and for what feels like a lifetime, just connected to him; breathing him in down into your respiratory system where he'll always stay.

You stroke away the sweaty, grey curls from the sides of his face and temples, and he smiles at you; a smile he saves only for you, with glittery eyes.

You glance at the clock on the bedside table reading just after midnight, and smile excitedly at him.

“You know what day it is today, right?” You query with a grin, resting your chin on your hands as you lay across his chest, still connected with him inside you.

“Right now, I don’t even know my damned name.” Joel breathes with a heavy chortle.

You feel him slip out as he laughs, the wet warmth of him dripping out of you. “Jesus, ya kill me.”

“It’s Christmas Day.” You whisper to him, and he runs his thumb against your lower lip, watching as you kiss it gently.

“Well then, Merry Christmas, Mrs Miller.” He smirks, crushing you further into his chest.

You beam back at him, finally understanding your place in the world.

Finally understanding why you endured and survived as you take his hand in yours, the glint of your mutual wedding rings reflecting in the dim glow from the string lights outside the window.

You know it was to get to this exact moment, right here, where you're in Joel’s arms again, and nothing can get you anymore. Nothing.

Smiling, you lean up to your husband’s face and kiss him gently on the lips.

“Merry Christmas, Joel.”

The End

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Thank you for taking the time to read my story; it really means so much to me. I'd love to know your thoughts, and I'd really appreciate a re-blog so others can enjoy this story too. Thank you so much 🖤

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#joel miller x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller #pedro pascal characters #joel miller tlou #the last of us #the last of us fic #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #christmas stories #five days series #jett's writing

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