#//Already considers himself as such for the Traveler; but if they do much as joke about it

[dutybcrne]

Referring to Taru as your knight is a surefire way to make sure he will Center His Entire Personality Around It in regards to his views of you

[tremendum]

Mr. Miller

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader (afab, use of she/her, use of the word girl)    

rating: explicit. (18+. mdni.)    

word count: 6.8k requested: yes. here and here :) 

summary:  “six months before you ran yourself into any trouble with somebody - that's no easy feat, considering your track record, so you like to call it a win anyways. but boy, talk about a rocky start with someone. Tommy's goddamn brother, no less.”

warnings: Jackson era, mentions of marijuana use, age gap (unspecified), sliiightly dub!con, smut (PiV, unprotected), creampie, overstimulation, pussy spanking, choking, spit kink, slight knife kink (do not look at me), dom!Joel (brat tamer!Joel if you squint), slight sir kink, so much dirty talk, lots of begging, degradation kink, dacryphilia, mean!Joel, this is just shameless smut i am horrible  notes: okay i kind of modified these asks but I thought it’d be fun to write it like this!!! as always reblogs/asks/comments are always great motivations :’) this is not reread because i am INSANE! xoxo

(  read the sequel other Joel fics:     fever       landmines    )

★  

to be completely honest, you never would’ve guessed you’d move to Wyoming. 

of course, in this world you didn't really have much of a choice of where you end up; it was hard to travel, yes, but there was some guiding hand that invisibly pushed you upon Jackson in the middle of a really rough winter. 

a girl, lost and on her own through the dangerous sprawls of what's left of the United States - of course Tommy and Maria had accepted you into the community; you were resourceful, willing, and strong-headed. 

most of Jackson was nice.

the people were good, the community functioned, and you were finally safe - you found a job working partly as a patrolman if an extra hand was needed, but mostly as a gardener.

it was a beautiful basin valley with sprawling mountains that glittered in the snow even during summer. 

you'd only been there for - what, maybe half a year? six months before you ran yourself into any trouble with somebody - that's no easy feat, considering your track record, so you like to call it a win anyways. but boy, talk about a rocky start with someone. 

Tommy's goddamn brother, no less. 

you didn't particularly get off on the correct foot with Joel Miller. when he showed up in town, people were thrown off. you surely understood that - but it was Tommy's brother, and Tommy insisted he would be fine; he and the girl with him had already been 'round Jackson before, leaving just a week or so before you showed up, apparently. 

you'd definitely heard about him. 

coincidentally, you'd actually moved into the house that Tommy had wanted Joel to have; the house that had the spare girl's bedroom which Ellie came through to ravage once they came back into town. (apparently the towels at Joel's were too rough no matter how many times they were washed, and Ellie really liked that Tamagotchi you'd found in the bedroom she once slept in.) 

maybe that'd already put him off, the short time in which Ellie had found company in you. who knows. 

but unfortunately, your first impression of him was muddled by a very real lens of beer-goggles and a long week's aching exhaustion in your brain. he was large, a tall man whose disposition dripped of domineering power; he didn't trust anybody here and by the looks of it, they didn't particularly adore him. he kept to himself besides Tommy -  who unfortunately along with his wife were really your closest comrades in the community. 

you almost felt bad for him, because that's how many people saw you at first. but on that night, you were just drunk enough, as you greeted Maria and Tommy at the bar with smiles and a joke about your libido, that you didn't quite realize that Tommy's big brother Joel was sat there, eyes watching you with a glimmer of something lurking behind the rim of the beer bottle. 

to be fair: everybody in this life is unkind in their first impressions. that's just how the world is now - 'every man for himself' is an unfortunately ugly reality and those who are too soft to see that are rarely spared the gore.

but when Tommy introduces you to Joel with a huff of a laugh and a friendly slap on your shoulder, Joel's eyes are distrusting, judging. he doesn’t say anything to you.

you try not to be offended. 

"pleasure to meet ya, Mr. Miller." you nod with a grin, your cheeks hot with slight intoxication as his large, calloused palm slips into yours. his grip is tight - your wince is covered with your words as you momentarily shoot Maria a look, turning back to the man in front of you.

"I met your girl earlier. stormed into my house like she owned the damn thing. was lookin' for some stuff she'd found last time, I guess. I'm just glad she didn't find my collection of big-girl toys." 

okay. okay, yeah, maybe you are too drunk. Maria laughs, at least, and Tommy lets out a chuckle, eyes flickering to Joel. but he just hums, eyes glancing over you once more before returning to nurse his dark beer with a furrow of his brows. “right.”

and pathetic as it is, he was too damn irresistible; you’d imagined that stare -that brooding scowl- one too many times in the dead of night, hands down your pants or in a stranger’s bed. 

and it hadn't gotten better in the months following. 

it was of circumstances most unfortunate for you that Joel and Ellie moved into a house just a few down from you - as much as you wished to just never see the man and his censorious stare, it was unavoidable. especially when Ellie showed up nearly day-to-day with questions, excuses, or even just complaints of boredom to coax you into letting her inside your house. 

a week or so ago, you’d overheard Tommy in a hushed voice down at the dining hall trying to convince Joel it was a good thing, that Ellie was learning to garden, learning about woman stuff (yes, he actually fucking said that), and - god forbid- make friends. 

but you love Ellie.

she in't like Joel. she’s funny, and lively, and easy-going once you warmed up to her. in fact, you actually started to collect things from around town to show her on her ceremonious visits; books, tattered board games, once you even found a trumpet in the crawlspace of your old house. it was rusty and honestly probably still had dried saliva from whichever fifth-grader played it way back before the outbreak, but it was enough to entertain you and the fifteen-year-old girl for hours even if neither of you knew how to play it. 

and maybe it was after Ellie mentioned to you with a giggle that Joel complains about you calling him ‘Mr. Miller,’ or maybe it was when she said he’d always ask about you and what you’re like whenever she returned from your days together. 

no matter what the catalyst really was, you just know you have it bad for that man, in the worst way - because he is a fucking asshole. 

but the worst of it was when Joel and you get paired up to patrol together on the outskirts. it means hours together of breathing and awkward looks, silence from you because he was silent and clearly wanted nothing to do with you. 

you suffered through hours of Joel’s rugged sageness for survival, tugging you effortlessly through boulders, lifting yourselves high through dilapidated structures in the middle of the wilderness. he was strong and capable and fucking sexy, and that made it all the more unbearable when snide comments about your youth or your inexperience or your lack of punctuality would pass his lips. it was annoying how hot it made you. 

as the summer rolled around, the horde was growing ever-present at the lips of Jackson county, festering like the moss that spreads along the woodsy forests in the northwest - hence your increased activity with the others who patrol the area and keep the community safe. 

he was a many of almost no words, and though you were in no way the same when you were around people you trust, the man just brings out the skeptic in you - so for weeks, it was days of the two of you walking in silence, the only noise being weak impasses and jabs at the other’s self-esteem all veiled by a smirk or an eye-roll. 

and still, each day out passed with your untrustworthy gazes pinned on the horizon just as much on each other's trigger fingers.

-- 

you're at your wit's end on one Friday evening as you finally return into town from patrol with him. 

Joel is a man plagued by too many unnamed illnesses; the likes of which you so fondly call in your head 'can't-accept-help-itis' and 'stubborn-old-asshole-luenza.' part of his symptoms render him unable to say full sentences to you without a judgmental look or a skeptical scoff, and sure you're not always the best judge of character, but you're confident that Joel has his eyes on your backside every single time you bend over to move your marker on the trail. he’s thought about it, too. 

but right now, you’re so tense you’re about to snap. 

his gaze hasn't left your profile for - you swear to god - almost thirty fucking minutes. like, nearly the whole walk from the first outpost. he’s been staring at you like you’re a ghost, or a second head sprouted from your neck. 

the heat of the summer night is unsullied; though you’re high in elevation, the warm wind blows a gust over your bare knees and ruffles your hair, coaxing a damp feeling to settle between your thighs under his gaze. 

"if you stare any harder at me, you'll get a fucking nose bleed." you sneer, keeping your eyes ahead as you grit your teeth. his gaze is burning into your side and with your words, they maintain their heat. 

whatever he was thinking, he keeps it to himself. you glare at his own profile, thick thighs, sturdy chest, hair that blows gently in the warm air. his jaw, glinting against the lights that guide you back into town. at least he’s looked away from you. good.

your victorious smirk is wiped off of your lips with his next words, the first in several hours from him besides grunts and directives. "d'you have the logs on you?" 

you look at him with revelation. "shit." you sigh shaking your head, "they're- they're at home." 

his face slides into a look of disdain, deep vexation at the task of now going back with you to your own house to sign the logs and confirm your findings for this patrol. "great." he mutters, feet kicking into gear to hightail it up the street, towards your house. 

the heat is swirling around your legs in the darkening evening as you finally enter your house, sighing into the empty air. the lights flicker when you switch them on, and you'd bring yourself to be more embarrassed about the disheveled state of your things if it had been anyone else with you. 

it doesn’t even matter, after all; his sights are set one one incriminating little piece of evidence in the corner of the living room. 

the small nub that sits on the tray by your windowsill seems to be more salient for Joel than the hurricane that threw your belongings across the space. 

your hands fall onto your hips, sighing as he accusingly lifts it from its ashy grave, eyes furrowed in irritation. your flannel sticks to your sleeves in the heat as his eyes meet yours. 

"is this- 's this marijuana?" he's incredulous as his fingers pinch the burnt-out roach, and you screw your brows at him; is he serious? you ignore the dwarfed look of the small old joint in his large hand, instead rolling your eyes. "yeah, some folks call it weed. you can smoke it and it makes you feel real good. you ever heard of it, Mr. Miller?" you snark, the sarcasm spilling from your lips deliciously; Joel eats it up like a man starved, his jaw ticking as he tilts his head. 

you know he secretly loves when you taunt him with the honorific; yes, it gets on his nerves, but there’s a secret air about him that suggests he likes it that way. it is easier to blur the lines between hate and desire than affection and desire, after all. 

"Ellie comes over here every day." he hisses, eyes sharp. you blink slowly at him, trying to fight the laugh that creeps up your throat; his gaze is dark, furious - did he think you were smoking weed with the girl? she's, like, thirteen. (fifteen, she corrects you in your mind. but still.) 

"that’s correct." you confirm, turning from him to search the kitchen for the log you'd forgotten in your haste to leave. his footsteps ring angry onto the floorboards. "if you're worried about that, I’d never smoke around her. 'm not that disrespectful." you defend, avoiding eye contact as you shuffle through your drawer of junk. 

"doesn’t matter. she won't be coming round much more." he threatens it - tests the waters. as if he has the authority to punish you.

you lift a brow at him, "don’t you think she should be able to make that choice?" you throw back at him, tossing your switchblade onto the table to your right as you sort through the miscellaneous items with both hands. 

uh oh, that struck a nerve in the man. 

his eyes sharpen as he breathes harsh at your words; "don't talk about things you know nothing about, girl." he snaps, crossing his arms, "now find the fucking log so I can leave." 

you glare at him, gesturing in front of you; your eyes scream no shit, Joel, I’m looking. 

it's silent as you search through the drawer, gritting your teeth in the tense silence of anger, thicker than molasses. 

you click your jaw, refusing to let it go, let him think he won. 

"I do have self respect, y'know." you pipe up, lifting a brow as you finally stumble upon the log, pulling a dying pen from the drawer and scribbling notes as you plop down on a wooden chair at your kitchen table.

Joel stays standing; it does not go unnoticed when his eyes take in the contours of your body, the clothes that stick to you in the heat of the summer; a pair of jean shorts, torn from years of use, and a thin tank top, covered with an unbuttoned flannel. his eyes sear into you at your words.

wow. fuck him. 

(no, not like fuck him, but- fuck him.) 

"never said you didn't, darlin'." he mutters condescendingly, the pet name leaving his mouth bitterly. any form of backlash you were going to unleash on his dies in your throat quickly when he leans over your shoulder to sign his own name next to yours. your eyes widen to search his face as his own skim over your account of the patrol. he's- wow, he's closer to you than you would have expected. 

holy shit. smoky swirls of gunpowder, pine, and dark amber whiskey. they fill your nostrils, dizzying your mind as you let out a stuttered breath - it's hot in here... your eyes glance as a small lick of sweat trickles down his neck. your throat is dry, heat swirling in your abdomen as he hums, "jus' think Ellie should start hangin' around with others." 

"why's that?" you snap, daring him to say it. fuck, your heart is pounding in your chest. oh, if he just admits it; that he thinks he's better than you, that he thinks you're pathetic - lord, you yearn for it, you’d have a fucking field day. you want an excuse to hit him. or bite him.

fuck Joel Miller, and- okay, fine. fuck him, too. 

his brows are furrowed as he glares hawkishly at your stubborn form; his gaze is serrated with disdain, jaw clenching with the words you're just begging him to admit.

"she's been cussin' and speaking...vulgar." he mutters, eyes flickering away from you. your jaw unhinges as you huff in surprise; he has the audacity to accuse you for teaching her to be foul-mouthed? hadn't she traveled with him for, what, a year? she’s a teenager - that’s what they do. 

"oh, please." you snap, "that girl was far from a princess when you showed up here, you know." you mutter, tossing a look over your shoulder up at him, the buttons undone at the top of his shirt staring at you, mocking you. 

"I know." he dismisses. his hand falls to stable himself on the back of your chair as he leans down towards you, "but you ain't helping. don't need her gettin' into any more trouble." 

you narrow your eyes, "trouble?" you parrot, accusing. 

the air is warm, thick as you cross your arms, the windows open and flowing the outside summer air into your nostrils. "how could I be trouble? you hardly know me." you snap, offended. you swirl with irritation. 

"because I listen. people think you're harsh. untrustworthy." he spits, smirking down at you as if his words are poison that'll dissolve your whole being into a small puddle of regret. but no, it's gasoline; his words are enough to incite your flames, lick you alive with ardor. 

he doesn't like you? oh, big fucking deal. you don't like him. 

"you ever heard of the pot calling the kettle black, Mr. Miller?" you drawl, lifting an accusatory brow. “what if you’re the bad influence? it’s not like you have any more manners than I do.” 

his jaw sets and his nostrils flare from his sharp exhale; you let your eyes swipe over the splattering of freckles that peek out from under the scruff beard that grows; a scar jags across his skin, frown lines creasing his scowl in a dark, terribly attractive way. you’re tip-toeing a line here, you can feel it. 

he can feel it, too. 

his eyes dip down, though you try hard to hold his heated gaze; they trail slowly over your shoulders and down, down to the dip of your collarbones and then over your breasts, heaving slightly with the proximity of the man. his gaze nearly melts the tank top that stretches over your torso and a flood of excitement rushes through you, pooling in the seat of your underwear. a smirk creeps onto your face at his wandering stare - resentful, loathing, heated. 

something in you snaps, and you can't deal with it any longer; not with his proximity, leaning over your shoulder and staring you down, with half-rolled sleeves. his forearms, they’re thick- goddamn, he's so-

"-I can't tell if you're looking at me like that because you want to kill me, or you want to fuck me." you snap, breaking his spell as you snap his attention back to your own eyes with your bold choice of words. "either way, it'll have to wait. I got shit to do, Mr. Miller, and for some reason, you're still in my house giving me fuck-me-eyes." 

"-you better watch your mouth." he snarls, chest heaving as he leans forward menacingly, his jaw clenched. 

you let yourself smile up at him, "or what, Mr. Miller?" you ask kindly, voice dripping with perfidious innocence. 

he sneers, eyes raking over your form, jaw ticking. your body flushes with warmth under his scrutinous gaze; one of your bare legs slides up to rest on the chair next to you, on full display snd illuminated in the light of the kitchen as you smirk at him. his dark chocolate gaze slides over the skin revealed; your skin tingles in excitement under his watch. it makes you chuckle. 

"what, you don't like the way I speak?" you hiss, glaring at him. "chastising me for shit that you do, too?" you mutter snidely, pulling your leg back down as his eyes glare into yours. "I'm an adult, you can't tell me what to say. fucking hypocrite."

your hand presses into his chest, standing to your full height. his chest is firm, hot, but he lets you do it easily, moving back out of your space; giving you an out, offering you a chance to say this-isn't-what-I-want. but you won't take it. no, instead you slide up closer to him, until you're too close. 

"why so quiet now, Mr. Miller?" you almost purr, your hand still toying with your switchblade, the glint of it reflecting in his eyes. slowly, you lift the blade to trace it gently, softly over his jawline, as you’d do with your fingers. he watches you like a damn hawk, breathing heavy. 

the scratch of it against the facial hair is enough for him to snap; suddenly snatching the blade from between your fingers in one quick motion. 

“you’re testin’ my patience.” he growls, shaking his head as he holds the handle of the knife in an iron-like grip. you shake your head, “yeah, well, you’ve taken all mine.” you counter. “so…” you start, raising a brow at the knife in his hands, the way your legs are turning to putty, “you going to kill me, Mr. Miller? or fuck me?” you whisper it into his ear, up on the tips of your toes as the peppering-gray curls at the base of his ear tickle your lips.

a sharp exhale - almost a surrender. then, a rough hand pushes you down against the table, hard. your body is pliant, willing, excited as his force brings you to thud against the wood, his hand flying down quick just to your right in a loud thud.

your head snaps to your right, eyes wide and jaw open; your switchblade pins your own flannel to the table, stabbed down and holding the material and your arm in place. christ, it barely missed nicking your skin.

“depends on if you can learn some goddamn manners.” he growls, leaning over you, his hips slotting between your thighs.

maybe it’s the look on his face, or just how damn long it’s been since you had someone, or just because it’s Joel – but your facade falls so quick and you’re soon keening up towards him, arching your back so your chest sticks out.

“I’m a fast learner.” you promise; at that, he merely hums, his hips grinding slow over yours. you let your eyes squeeze shut, groaning lightly at the bliss of his rough denim sliding against your shorts-clad cunt, throbbing with desire.

you’re breathless; shivers cascade down your spine at the press of his hips against yours, licking your lips to wet them; “fuck, Joel-“ your breath is strangled, “please. I can be good for you.” you try to convince him, blinking your eyes up at him. his smirk is downright evil as his hands fall to your top, skating over the tops of your breasts before one hand grips your jaw in his large palm, squeezing hard onto your cheeks and forcing you to stare into his eyes.

his grip is unforgiving. “y’think you can jus’ bat those pretty eyes at me?” he sneers, his breath hot and fanning over your face. you’re overheating- god, it’s so fucking hot in your house; your hand raises to grip his forearm, swallowing your pride for the sake for finally getting to feel him inside you, “’m sorry, Joel.” you mutter, cheeks squished by his hand.

his brow furrows, shaking his head. a chastising tutting noise escapes his throat as he rolls his hips, grinding sloooow and smooth against your dripping cunt, aching with desire.

“no, you’re fucking not.” he spits, pushing you harder against the table. your throat is dry, a whimper of desire escaping your throat. his lips brush the shell of your ear as he leans more of his weight on you, your legs wrapping around his hips and your own surging up, up in search for some friction, “say it. say you’re not sorry. you like it, I can tell.”

shivers spill down your spine as you bite back a moan, cheeks alight with heat at his teasing. Your eyes lull over towards the blade that holds down your shoulder, pinning you against the table. a hot rush of arousal floods your underwear as you swallow, eyes rising to meet his in a lidded gaze. 

“I like it,” you admit in a shameful gasp, hand sliding up to explore his chest, “I’m- I’m not sorry. I like it, ‘m not sorry.” you mutter, voice desperate, pathetic; you’re swallowing a whimper as he grinds slowly against you again, his hardened cock straining against his jeans.

 his hand snaps to pin yours down to the edge of the table; your eyes snap up to his, meeting the swirling lust within his deep eyes, searching your face with a dangerous smirk. “you aren’t sorry?” he asks, voice dripping with condescending cockiness.

you shake your head no desperately, searching his eyes to see if he’s pleased.

he smirks at your desperation. "you will be, darlin’." he mutters, his own eyes exploring your chest as it heaves, breasts barely spilling out the top of your tank top’s hem. you smile up at him despite your desperation; hunger curls in your chest as you move your hips up against him and his face falters, a groan escaping his throat. his eyes swirl with the dark shine of a man who is nothing less than dangerous. 

the hand that isn’t pinned by the blade creeps up his arm, brushing the thick cords of muscle that rope his bicep and shoulders; soon, though, one of his hands is gripping your wrist and slamming it down against the edge of the table.

you gasp from the roughness, biting your lip as your fingers curls around the edge and hold tight under his grip.

“don’t move your hands,” he mutters as his lips dip low to trace over the seam of your top, breath brushing over the soft skin of your breasts. “or I’ll leave you here, pinned to this table.”

arousal floods you at his words and you nod silently, swallowing as his teeth bite roughly at your pressure point. “d’you hear me, girl?” he grunts, his hands moving to pull out one of your breasts from your top, your peaked nipple instantly tugged between his prying fingers.

you let out a yelp at the sensation and he huffs against your skin, biting again. “fuck,” you whimper loudly, bucking your hips as your hands grip tight against the edge of the table; one arm is pinned with the knife anyways, but your heart thunders as his tongue peaks out, brushing hot against your sweat-sheened skin.

A hand snakes to your throat and you can’t stop the moan you let out, air sucking through your windpipe at the light grip he keeps; you’re obsessed with how all-consuming he is.

Joel’s everywhere – his smell, his eyes, his hands, tongue – you want him to be inside you, you want him to be in you forever, ever, ever.

fuck Joel Miller. fuck him, and fuck him.

“I asked you something. answer me.” he squeezes your throat as he emphasizes, as he demands you; you buck up against him, convinced you’re soaking through your goddamn shorts, leaving disgusting proof of your sick, twisted arousal as you move against his crotch.

his dominance causes your face to flare with heat; you weren’t expecting him to seduce you into submission - you love it. “y-yes, yes, sir. I he-heard you.” you gasp, face flushing hot as the words leave you. he smirks darkly as he pulls away from you, danger lurking in his eyes deliciously as he nods, seemingly pleased.

he nods. “good.”

his hips are gone from you in an instant and your gasp is choked – but he wastes no time in popping the button on your jeans, sliding them and your underwear off of you in one long motion.

his pupils somehow blow even wider as he stands in front of you, palming his thick cock through his jeans, watching you pant hard.

you’re exposed in front of him – your pussy is swollen with need, pulsing with desire as one of your breasts rests exposed to the air as the knife pins you down by the arm of your flannel; you’re fucking exposed and you love it. he’s intoxicating.

 “you’re soaked.” he says after a moment of silence so long that you barely register his gruff voice. you blink, bringing your eyes back up to his from where he’s begun to undo his belt.

you can’t help the light smirk as you stare up at him, “maybe I happen to like it when you’re vulgar with me.”

he glares at you but there’s a hint of something more that flashes through his eyes; adoration? no, it couldn’t be. Joel Miller can’t adore anything.

but then out of nowhere his fingers delve through your velvet, slippery folds in a fervor; your breath chokes yet again in your lungs as you tense with the sudden stimulation.

a low, guttural moan falls from your lips as the pads of his middle and ring fingers rub tight, slow circles on your clit, “bet you taste so good, don’t you?” he murmurs, his teeth finding purchase upon your neck, sucking a mark so hard you’re sure you’ll have it for weeks. christ. “y’want me to taste you, pretty girl?”

fuck. images flash through your mind of him on his knees, tongue unraveling you, drowning in you while your thighs close around those thick greying curls.

your moan falls from you fast, nodding quick, “yes, yes, please, please, use your mouth.“ your whines are downright embarrassing – you’re not a wide-eyed virgin teen, for fuck’s sake – but Joel’s stirring you just right, making you purr with pleasure.

but instead of his tongue, a harsh swat falls onto your aching cunt and your hips jolt at the stimulation, your clit throbbing and the sting making you groan his name. you can’t help the moan of disappointment.

“well, isn’t that too bad?” he snarls, his voice mean. you feel tears of frustration spring in your eyeline as you huff a sigh, his fingers slowly, torturously moving over your clit yet again. “bet you’d love if I ate your cunt. probably dream about it, don’t ya? d’you think about me when you touch yourself?”

Christ, you’d never expected Joel-don’t-fucking-talk-to-me-Miller to be so fucking dirty; but you learned your lesson last time, so you nod quick, eyes lidded through the euphoric, teasing pleasure from the pads of his fingers.

“all-all the time, J-Joel, fuck, think about you all the time.”

and it’s true.

“that’s right. my slut, thinkin’ about me.” he spits, mouth peppering bites over your throat. “gonna have to make y’cum fast, baby. Maria’s probably waiting for us t’turn in the logs.”

the possession in his voice brings you even further towards the edge, catapulting you, sending you frustratingly close as your body tenses, puckering hole clenching around nothing as he slowly works you.

you nod your head, unable to open your eyes as your legs close around Joel’s fingers; in anger, his hand tears your thighs apart, swatting the soft skin of your thighs in punishment. you yelp at the sting, biting your lip as a new gush of arousal leaks from your neglected hole and drips down onto the table.

fueled by frustration and adrenaline and some desperate fire of attraction that’s been burning between you since he first showed up in Jackson, you nearly scream, “please, fuck me now, Joel, please I’ll do anything-“

his hand leaves his ministrations quick, his glare sharp as his fingers glisten with your desperate arousal; they’re soaked. you feel yourself flush in embarrassment until he smirks darkly, tugging himself out of the confines of his jeans. “there, see? learnin’ some manners.”

his cock is heavy and thick as it slides through your wet, slick folds. your breath, panting out and puffing as you watch in awe. his: stuttering as the tip of his dick notches at your clenching hole, teasing.

“Jesus, you’re trying t-to swallow me, darlin’.” His hand reaches out, grabbing a palm full of your tit as he rocks his hips, once again nudging your leaking hole.

your whole body shivers in anticipation; you will your eyes to not reveal how fucking turned on you are about his size - you’re more wet than you’ve ever been in your life and his cock is - well, it’s thick, long, bigger than you’d like to admit. 

“greedy fuckin’ pussy.” he grunts to himself as you hold yourself as still as possibly, one tear escaping as you your eyes clench shut in desire.

“’m ready, Joel.” you whimper, eyes opening to find his hot gaze already searing through you; he just smirks, nodding slightly. “yeah, bet you are, pretty girl.”

he can’t thrust all the way into you, not fully- his cock is too thick, your cunt slick with arousal but still so goddamn tight. the rumbling moan he lets out as he inches in slowly is fucking heavenly.

a strangled gasp leaves your lips when he starts to slide into you, inch-by-inch, stretching you open and filling you full of him. your fingers twitch at your sides as you yearn to card your fingers through his thick curls; his head falls heavy against your chest as he mutters, “s’tight, baby, fu-fuckin’ tight.”

“so much,” you whimper, fingers tight and shaking as you restrain from grabbing his arms to stabilize himself, “‘s too much.” you mumble, tears stinging. he hums, the ghost of a kiss over your cheek before he’s in your ear, whispering, “am I too big for you, baby? gonna hav’ta work you open on my fingers first next time, yeah?”

his dark grin grows as you nod your head dumbly, “fuck- yeah, yes.” you agree, nodding,

his voice is starting to slur, accent getting thicker as he soon splits you fully, speared and sheathed deep, deep into you. you’re fluttering around him as you accommodate to his size, the feeling of him nearly breaking you open as he starts to shallowly thrust.

you let out a loud moan, his thickness stretching you and sliding deeper than expected, kissing against a spot that has you keening. your toes curl and your head falls back as he pulls out, thrusting back into you slow, grinding, deep.

all you can say is his name; it falls from your lips like it’s the only word you know, his hips soon pistoning into you with fervor, chasing the feeling coiling in your abdomen. 

his hands roam. 

they explore every part of you they can reach, his teeth marking every inch of your throat and painting you into a beautiful piece of art. for him. 

the noise of your pussy swallowing his girth in is downright filthy as it echoes through your kitchen; your head lulls to the side as you let out a languid moan, the spot he's hitting making your eyes roll back. you can feel stray tears leak down your cheeks, hot and heavy as you whimper in desire; you're so goddamn close, already, you know he can feel it. 

“y’gonna-“ he grunts, eyes screwed shut in pleasure as yours leak down your cheeks, body shaking with desire, “-gonna take my cock and say thank you, ‘s that right?”

a shaking rush of arousal just slickens you even more; the sounds of his body rocking into yours wet and loud in the room as you nod frantically, the pleasure coiling dangerously fast. 

but it seems you weren’t quick enough with your response: Joel’s hips slow, then stop completely. 

you’re left gasping, eyes wide as you stare up at him in shock: “wh-why?” you whimper, his pulsing length half out of you, teasing you. 

Joel’s eyes meet your own and he sternly swats your tits, eyes watching as the breast exposed to the air moves in recoil. 

“do you want to cum?” he asks, as if he’s asking what 2 + 2 is. your face fucking burns as you nod, “yes-“ 

but he grunts, hips too agonizingly still as he leans forward, “then take my cock, fuck yourself on it. and use your fuckin’ manners.”

you blink at him, spurring into action only after a very brief short-circuited moment. your hips stutter and shake at the angle, unable to move in a way that stimulates yourself enough to bring you back to the edge.

you shutter, muttering, “th-thank- thank you,” but you can’t do it. you glare at him as you move your hips, hands shaking, muscles straining, but you can tell he’s not pleased: brows drawn, a swat to your exposed breast that stings and spurs your hips quicker.

“come on, this is pathetic.” he snarls, fingers gently pinching your clit. the yelp you let out is dry, starved. “why so quiet now, darlin’?” he throws your own words back at you deliciously. 

he stands stationary, eyes judging you, focused on where your cunt tries to swallow his cock, your movements choppy and weak. tears spring in your eyes; he feels so good, but you just can’t get it right. 

“please.” you nearly whisper it, but it’s exactly what he was looking for. he rocks his hips shallowly, your body rocking gently with the slow, deep force of him splitting you open. 

“please, what?” he whispers into your ear, teeth scraping your jaw. resentment and arousal flows through your veins as you let out a strangles, “please, s-sir-“ 

with the words, Joel’s hips cant up into you, the slight angle making your legs coil and your throat burn. 

“please fuck me, y’feel- I can’t do it, need- you feel so good, fuck me hard, please, I want it.” you let go, begging and desperate to give you what you crave. 

his hips pick up a brutal pace. your back is pounded into the wood below you, the cool blade of the knife cold against your flannel as one of his large hands moves you until your legs are thrown up, over his shoulders.

the stretch is unimaginable and he doesn’t give you any time to adjust; his hips are unforgiving, fucking you open and letting your juices of arousal spill over the skin of your thighs and onto the table. 

“such a foul fuckin’ mouth on you.” he spits, one hand gripping your jaw until it opens for him, your mind clouded with the chase of your highs. 

he spits into your mouth, saliva warm and intoxicating as you swallow it happily, nodding in a daze. “gonna fuck you stupid, aren’t I? you won’t think about anything but me for weeks.” 

he’s right, and he fucking knows it. 

you nod at him, unable to form full words as he hits the spongy, delicious spot inside you that nearly makes you pass out. your hands fucking ache from the grip on the table, but you hope he’s pleased that they haven’t moved a damn inch this whole time; even as he splits you wide open and takes you apart. 

you’re so close you might actually start to sob as the crest of your orgasm tingles your thighs, your toes curling and legs shaking. 

he's close, too. his thrusts are getting slower, sloppier. 

“whose pussy is this?” Joel grunts, his movements soon desperate and deep; his tip kisses your cervix and your body jolts up the table with each movement of his pubic bone against yours.

the pain is fucking euphoric, delicious as you grip the edge of the table so hard you’re unsure they’ll ever relax. his finger pinches your nipple and you yelp, sweat sticking to your forehead, “-y-yours, fuck, Joel- yours, a-always.” you whimper, breathless.

you feel his smile grow against your neck and the butterflies that grow in your chest seem out of place with the bruises that will soon blossom on your skin from his teeth, his fingers.

you smile, too.

"god, you're perfect- f-feel fuckin' perfect around me, baby. need you to cum." as his sentence ends, his head jerks up, one hand rising to grip your jaw tight. your eyes snap to his and the anger boils, festering with the desire and lust within his eyes, "know y'can't help it, can you?" 

you shake your head fiercely as your orgasm nears. he hums deep, a rumble from his chest, “what do you say if you want me to let you cum?” 

fuck. fuckfuckfuck you’re too close- your muddled mind spits a barely cohesive babble of pleads, “please, p-pleaseplease I-I’m sorry I’m sorry-“ 

“you’re sorry?” he presses, hips not giving up; your whole body burns as you wait for your orgasm, knowing in any second it’ll be ruined. “look at those pretty eyes. did y’learn your manners? y’gonna say thank you?” 

you let out a sob of pleasure, his thrusts so deep you can feel them in your throat. “yes, Joel- please- let me cum, please-“ 

his hand slides to your throat. “cum now.” 

you swallow around his grip and let out a near scream of his name as his other hand snakes between you; a finger brushes against your abused clit, the combined stimulation pushing you over the edge. 

you see colors. 

your orgasm explodes as you gush around him, pulsing, begging, unraveling around his touch. your voice is broken, mutters and whimpers of his name followed by thank you, thank you drifting through the room.

your thighs are soaked with your own spend and he feels you grip him like a vice; he can't help but kiss the tears from your cheeks as he milks you through your orgasm, muttering soft grunts in your ear. 

"that's it, baby. there y'go, cum on my dick when i fuckin' tell you to." he kisses the column of your throat as his thrusts slow to deep, long thrusts. "atta girl." 

you scream at his words and the overstimulation. he shushes you, thrusts slow. "'m gonna cum." he sounds almost desperate, his body so close to yours it's almost like he's trying to smother you.

he groans your name in a broken sound; his grip tugging your hair. he moves back, frantic to pull out and ride his high- but you panic. 

"w-wait!" you rush, hands springing without thinking to push his hips hard against yours. you can't bear to imagine him pulling out of you so soon - you need to feel him, be full of him. "cum in me, Joel- I need it, j-just- fuck!" 

his hand slams over your mouth, effectively silencing you with a loud grunt of his own, "shut the fuck up," he growls, sounding too close. “jesus, girl- gonna wake up the whole n-neighborhood-“ but even his shamefully dirty mouth falters when he chases his orgasm.

soon he thrusts shallowly into your pulsing cunt before he's moaning, spurting his seed into you. 

hot, thick ropes of cum paint your walls as you flutter, whimpering as you breathe heavy, hands skittering up his back despite his earlier orders. 

his lips brush over your skin as he lies on you, heavy; "jesus christ." is all he mutters, pulling out of you with a slick sound and tucking himself into his jeans. 

you can only stare at the ceiling, the light above the table you’re laid upon swinging with the residual force of your bodies colliding.

a hand falls in a sharp thud to your right, pulling hard to dislodge the knife from its home against you; the notch it leaves reveals the patrol log; speared in the middle with the evidence of you and Joel's digressions. 

oops.

you're wrecked. you're a trembling frame of a structure after the hurricane of Joel Miller took threw you, stripping you to your bare bones. a ghost of lips over the inside skin of your knees as they fall, weak, off of his shoulders. and then he stares at you as you shakily sit up, setting your clothes right, swallowing on a raw throat. 

“‘m sorry about the flannel.” he gestures to the rip in your arm where the knife had pinned you down and something about it makes you chuckle, smoothing down your hair. “are you- are you okay?” he asks suddenly, hard eyes looking almost soft under the glow of the lamplight.

he hands you your underwear and jeans and helps you slide back into them in a surprisingly sweet turn of events.

“more than okay, christ. if you make me cum like that again you can do anything you want to my clothes.” you wink with a deep breath, smiling gently at him when he helps you stand back up on shaky legs. he actually sends you a half-smirk at that, and it flutters along your chest. 

the nighttime air is not so suffocating as you and Joel make your way towards Maria, his hand grazing over the small of your back as you walk on Jell-o legs, faces flushed and sweat slicking to your skin.

it’s awkward.

“I-” he starts, swallowing air as you stare up at him. sweat trickles from his brow and you itch to trace it with your tongue. 

“I actually think you’re not too bad,” he finishes, turning to walk up the steps to Tommy and Maria’s. you blink, heat fluttering in your chest as he admits, but soon whirls around to ensure you hear him, “for Ellie. just- don’t do that shit around her, right?” he clarifies.

you grin at his reddened cheeks as he tucks the log into the box set near the door, filing it under the western outpost for the date. 

“yes, Mr. Miller.” you mock-salute him, smirking to yourself as his flush deepens, the scowl ever-present on his face softening slightly at your smile. 

“christ.” he shakes his head, “you’re gonna get me into a lot of trouble.” you don’t miss the smile that creeps on his face as he starts to walk you back home. 

--

read part 2

requests open

--

[bump1nthen1ght]

A Very Monstrous Kinktober: Day 3 (Bukkake)

Kink: Bukkake

Pairing: Male!Orcs x Fem!Reader

Other kinks: Gang Bang, Spit Roasting

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1197 words

Kinktober Masterlist

If someone had told you this morning that your night shift at the tavern would end with you in the bedroom of a traveling adventurer, you wouldn’t have believed them.

If they had told you it would end with you in the bedroom of several adventurers, you would’ve thought they were insulting you.

If they had told you 're relatively boring tavern shift in your fairly boring town would end with you in a bed, surrounded on all sides by sexy orc adventurers, you would’ve slapped them atop the head and told them to stop reading so many dirty novels.

And yet-

“Fuck, you’ve got a good mouth on you, barkeep.” The orc, who you think is named Thrak, mutters.

“A good pussy too. Nice and tight.” The orc behind you, Parod, gives a hard slap to your ass. It makes your throat clench with a whine, something Thrak clearly appreciates. He runs his hand down the side of your cheek, giving you sweet caresses that don’t match his hurried thrusts, his balls smacking against your chin.

“Plus, look at that ass. I could watch that ass walking around this bar all day.”

The bard, Kog, slaps your ass too, his other hand still preoccupied with playing with your clit. Despite already spending himself in your ass his cock is rock hard. His musicians training must come in handy, as he easily navigates circling your clit and stroking himself at the same time.

“Maybe we should take you along with us, darling.” Sitting in the big chair nearby, fat cock in his scarred hands, remarks Hagu, the band's leader. You remember his name the best, despite a brain addled after orgasm and orgasm. He had made you scream it, over and over, when he bent you in half in a mating press to start this whole night off. “Become our personal cum dump.” Hagu stands up, erection bobbing against his stomach as he walks to you. He runs his knuckles along your sweaty face, not even perturbed by his bandmate’s cock thrusting in and out of your mouth. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

When you first approached the band to ask for their drink order, you’d have never guessed Hagu had such a filthy mouth. He seemed the perfect, stone-serious leader for the raucous group, left in charge of the coin and easily silencing the boys if they got too rowdy. With his deep voice, that tantalizing half broken tusk and scar across his lips, he seemed the perfect brooding stranger. Even before they had propositioned you for a night in their room, you had considered hopping into Hagu’s bed.

Not that the rest of the boys weren’t gorgeous. Kog was the smallest, with a smile built for charming and long piano fingers. Thrak and Parod made a perfect duo, one barbarian and one rogue, bouncing off each other’s laughter and sly comments with ease. If they hadn’t seemed to love adventuring as much as they did, you’d think they’d thrive as a traveling troupe. Everyone would swoon.

Not to mention their giant cocks. That helps too.

“Still breathing, sweetheart?” Thrak half-jokes, patting your cheek when your eyes roll back. You give an unsteady thumbs up, moaning again as Parod pummels your g-spot. You’d think two cocks would have been enough to stretch you out, but Parod is girthy, and the pleasure burns.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Hagu says, rubbing the back of your neck. “Do you love all these dicks ruining you? Don’t you just want to forget about all those silly responsibilities, and just live as our cum slut?” Your addled mind, half wondering if he really means the offer, nods enthusiastically. It gets you a congratulatory pat on the ass, though at this point you can’t tell from who. “That’s a good girl.”

Just those words are enough to send goosebumps down your arms, an urge to prove him right making you throw your hips back and to slather your tongue all around Thrak’s dick. Nails dig into your hips and shoulders, Parod’s grunts humps stumbling just a bit.

“F-fuck, I’m close.”

“Me too.” Thrak pants, squeezing your cheeks. “Where do you want it, pretty girl?”

“Her face, she wants it on her face.” Hagu commands, languidly stroking his cock. “She wants us all on her face, don’t you?”

Thraks pulls his cock out your mouth, drool dripping down your lips as Hagu grabs your chin again. The emptiness burns as Parod slips out of your pussy, resting his pulsing cock on your ass cheeks.

“Well?” Hagu squeezes your jaw, a slight tinge of pain as he yanks you to look up at him. His cock blocks your view, veins pulsing up his shaft. The other boys are uncharacterisitcally silent, all deferring to their leader's commands.

“Yes, c- cum on my face, please!” Your voice keens, whiny and desperate. Once again you think back to the beginning of your shift and how vastly different you thought this night would go.

“You heard her, boys. Pretty girls who ask nicely-” Hagu tugs on his shaft, moaning in between words, “-get what they want.”

It’s a cacophony of breathes, groans, and the slapping of skin as you're surrounded by 4 orcs, tips leaking with pre cum as they furiously jerk off. Your battered pussy, still a bit sore from being stretched open, grows slick nonetheless. The anticipation is killing you, licking your lips as your stomach grows taut.

Hagu, always the leader, starts everyone off.

“S-shit.” He growls, hands twitching as he aims his cock right at your open mouth. A hot stream of cum shoots across your lips, more and more spurts following to coat your tongue. The other boys are quick to follow, falling in and unloading all over your face. Thrak and Parod aim for your cheeks, giving the courtesy of avoiding your eyes. Kog is a little less controlled, whiny moans leading him to shoot his cum all over, some even reaching your forehead as his cock spasms.

All in all, it's just 15 seconds of pure bliss, hot cum warming your skin. The salt of sweat and semen has your mouth watering. You’re happy you had the wherewithal to tie your hair up when you guys started, or else it’d be coated by now.

Thrak and Parod collapse into the big comfy chair behind them, while Kog sinks into the bed beside you. Their green chests heave, skin dark with a furious blush as they all catch their breath. Even Hagu, ever composed, seems to take a moment. He wipes a palmful of sweat off his brow, before brushing a thumb across your face.

“Let's get you cleaned up, beautiful.”

Hagu easily sweeps you off the bed and into a bridal carry, leading you over to the small bathroom afforded to tavern rooms. The other boys, still in a post-nut haze, follow their leader anyway. Kog gathers up your strewn about clothes from the floor, making sure to keep them away from his sweaty skin.

What a way to end the night.

[stardustdiiving]

Wanderer doesn’t hide the fact he likes Nahida

I totally get Wanderer being snarky is a funny punchline but sometimes I see Wanderer portrayed as being super snappy and mean in response to Nahida trying to be nice to him and I can’t help being like no!!!!!! He wouldn’t do that to her!! :(

Often people seem to think their dynamic is Wanderer being grouchy & mean & telling her to screw off all the time because he doesn’t want to admit he ~actually enjoys Nahida’s company~ but man like. Wanderer isn’t some edgy moody teenager that Nahida has to keep on a leash and scold regularly whenever he acts out—he’s a grown man who’s actually pretty emotionally perceptive/intelligent when he wants to be in my opinion—he’s just very blunt and cynical and often rude/harsh as a result

Wanderer hates sugarcoating his emotions & if him liking Nahida is majorly because he feels she’s proven it’s more or less safe to trust her, i don’t think he has any reason to hide the fact he genuinely respects her and as a result is regularly open about this when he interacts about her in canon. He may grumble about her requests or emotional earnesty because, well, it’s Wanderer, but imo if he were regularly snappy/mean to Nahida even in an “all-bark-no-bite” way we would’ve see them interact like that on screen already—but we don’t, and the fact that’s now how does treat her is a part of their dynamic I find very endearing and enjoy a lot—so I want to highlight it!

Like…look at how he talks to/about her even just going off of inversion of genesis alone:

I feel hes noticeably more cordial and cooperative with Nahida compared to say, Traveler & Paimon—he doesn’t try to intentionally provoke her for fun (or out of spite in the case of early IoG) the way he does with us/Traveler, both in Inversion of Genesis and Parade of Providence. He spends all of PoP intentionally trying to act suspicious/up to no good to mess with the Traveler & Paimon whenever we run into him—and then we get to the end of the event and find out Nahida just… asked him to monitor the event to make sure there wasn’t any trouble (+ wanted him to make friends LOL).

Like we literally see Nahida playfully tease him on screen and he doesn’t snap or get really grouchy with her…he just tolerates it like a mildly disgruntled cat

Which is…cute! I think it’s very endearing, especially when I don’t feel Nahida is usually playful like this unless she considers them an equal/friend—it feels like maybe she picks up on his energy a bit and adjusts her sense of humor/friendliness accordingly so it’s more intuitive/comfortable for both of them

Everyone jokes about Nahida dragging Wanderer into socializing and making friends right—which is true and something I think is very silly & fun, but again…while Wanderer may grumble about it I don’t think he’s actively mad or fighting with her about it even hyperbolically. Look at how he responds to Nahida telling him she wants to help him reach out to people in Parade of Providence:

This, combined with how he mentions feeling about Nahida not wanting him to isolate & be lonely in his birthday letter (“I can see that she was looking for a chance to make my life more fulfilling, but has she ever stopped to think about what an "experience" it is for others to meet me?”) gives me less an impression Wanderer is outwardly indignant and grouchy about Nahida trying to help him and more like…openly appreciative of the gesture but just doesn’t really think he’s worth the effort

I again think the specific way his responses to her trying to help him emotionally are always worded again show a distinct respect he has for Nahida as a person, and he seems genuinely grateful by the fact she gave him a second chance when, given how internally harsh Wanderer is about things and himself and how much he’s internalized expecting to be used or disregarded by others constantly unless he fights tooth and nail to not be, he probably didn’t expect any sort of grace at all post losing the gnosis, much less having someone seem to genuinely believe in him & want him to be happy/stable when he took said offered chance

I just think Wanderer is someone who cares a lot about being straightforward, especially about things that really move him emotionally, and think it’s really sweet he feels moved enough by Nahida’s encouragement & goodwill towards him to genuinely want to try with life. I get so sad when It seems like people think Wanderer is too like, emotionally immature or jaded to ever care to express how he feels about Nahida even in his own blunt, recovering nihilist way (when he explicitly does in canon IMO) and have him be snarky & grouchy to Nahida constantly, or believe he’d find her being good naturedly silly/childish annoying and scoff at her for it (people seem to think he hates children when he canonically does not and is quite fond of them!! I personally think some of that soft spot comes from finding childish earnestness + innocence kind of bittersweetly cathartic/comforting to see and would be something he’d actively like about Nahida!!) 😔

This is something I always try to portray in my own fanworks of them I just like it a lot, I want people to see the vision!!! Their relationship is very mutual on effort put in from both sides & Wanderer is more open about respecting Nahida than you may believe—which means he actively tries to acknowledge her kindness towards him and she doesn’t have to babysit him or drag him into cooperating with her all the time! And I find it very touching and sweet!

[softtdaisy]

hellu lando with it's okay, just breathe.

I LOVE your writing, you deserve all the celebration love!

Pairing: Lando Norris x female!reader

Words: 1020

A/n: the fact i went over 1k words for a story i don’t feel confident about is crazy. I really hope you will like it, i’ve never write about Lando before so it’s a first try  

Dating Lando was like living in a new sitcom episode every single day. Even when he was away for the championship and you couldn’t travel with him, he found a way to make your day better. A call, a message, the stupidest joke ever or the cutest proof of love. 

There were some bad days, of course. But somehow, the sun always seemed to shine even in the darkest sky. 

You could write a whole book about your boyfriend. 

You really considered doing it these past days. Being away from him for too long was getting harder for you. It was really like missing a half of yourself when he was in another country or, worse, in another continent. No amount of calls was making for the lack of waking up with him by your side.

“You realize that one day you’re going to deal with me every day for the rest of your life? Shouldn’t you enjoy your free time while you can?” he told you on the phone after you admitted being sad about him leaving early for Canada. He hasn’t even been home since Spain and he was already leaving.

“Well right now, I miss you, idiot.”

“Well I miss you too, dummy.” 

It was probably one of the quickest decisions you’ve ever made. After waking up again feeling alone and sad without the man you loved, you booked a flight for Montréal during the afternoon to see him. You didn’t even tell anyone, except for Max, Lando’s best friend, to make sure at least one person would be aware of your trip. You wanted to surprise your boyfriend.

You had no idea that this would become one of the most stressful days for him.

When Lando woke up on the other side of the world, you were already up in the air. He didn’t question why you weren’t answering his texts. He knew that when you were working, you tended to be so focused that you forget about the world around you. He also knew that he could call you if he was worried because that was the only thing that would make you pick up your phone. 

Somehow, Lando felt like something was off. He could put his finger on what.

If he was a fan of media duties, he couldn’t focus on anything today. His laugh sounded fake, he wasn’t smiling as much. “If something is wrong, you can tell me.” Oscar reassured him after he had to handle every interview that morning.

But he didn’t say anything. Lando wasn’t the kind to cry on anyone’s shoulder for nothing. He didn’t want to bother his teammate for just a feeling. 

Then it became more than a feeling when he still couldn’t reach you. 

You were supposed to be home. Or heading home. Anyway, you would have answered Lando’s texts already. But you didn’t.

He tried to call you. But you didn’t answer.

He asked Carlos to call you too, knowing he was one of the few drivers to have your number. But you didn’t answer either.

“Something wrong?” Carlos asked him but he refused to say anything. If he kept it to himself, it wouldn’t be real, right?

So Lando did the worst thing he could have done, he knew that. He went to the practices with fear and stress. He couldn’t think about the race or the cars or his whole career. Fuck that. All he cared about was you. He did so many mistakes he couldn’t even imagine the number of comments on social media about him being done or whatever these stupid opinions were saying. The team was already giving him a hard time on the radio.

When Lando got out of the car, he felt like he saw a ghost. Expect it wasn’t one.

It was you. Standing in the middle of the garage.

It took him a few seconds to realize that he wasn’t dreaming, that it wasn’t his mind giving him what he wanted to see. You were here. For real. Not home. But here with him.

Lando then ran to you and took you in his arms. “Oh wow I didn’t expect that to be so welcoming.” you laughed in his ears. Knowing him, you were convinced he would make a joke about you being here at the same time as his mistress. Or that you should take a shower, when he was the one dirty after racing. 

Not that he would hug you that tight. You felt him bringing him to his room and you followed him, quite perplexed on why he was reacting like that. 

It wasn’t until you were alone that you noticed he was shivering against you. 

“Hey, what’s going on?” you asked him, moving your head to see his sad face. You barely ever saw him being that miserable around you.

“You’re here…” he replied, breathless. You took his face between your hands.

“it's okay, just breathe,” you put your forehead against his and felt him relaxed slowly. 

“You didn’t answer me and I thought something had happened. I couldn’t call you, I couldn’t reach you and I thought you were… I can’t imagine my life without you!” 

“I’m not planning on leaving you.” you replied with a sweet smile, giving him a soft kiss on his lips. Lando always said that your lips had some calming power. And he wasn’t wrong. You could feel relaxed after that, like it was the proof he needed to be sure you were really here.

You spent some long minutes together in the silence. Now that he was accepting that nothing had happened to you and that you were here, for real, he was enjoying your presence. You gave him small kisses in the hair, the one he loved when he had a terrible weekend. It felt quite the same for once.

“I’m taking notes that you don’t like surprises.” you whispered in his hair.

“Not the one where I think I’m losing the love of my life, dummy.”

“Love of my life and dummy in the same sentence? What a pretty love language, Norris.” 

[radlyradar]

How would the companions (minus longfellow) act with a Deaf/HOH Sole Survivor ?

I made this because silly and my sole survivor is half deaf :))

Preston

Preston already has a concept of signed gestures and hearing loss, from trying to communicate around artillery or in battle. He’s even met Deaf/HOH settlers before, but never before has he travelled with someone who couldn’t hear. It takes him a bit to get the hang of communication, learning conversational signs from Sole and making sure he’s in clear view when he talks if they lip read. That being said, it doesn’t change much, he still sees them as that leadership role the minuteman need. He ends up getting Sole to teach passing minutemen signs so they can communicate or trying to teach them all himself once he becomes more fluent.

Deacon

He’s hesitant at first, after all if you can’t hear yourself you gotta be loud as all hell. When Sole proves they can be stealthy though, he changes his tune. They both sign often to keep conversations more secretive and he’ll act as ‘interpreter’ on missions so he can pass by with less attention.

Hancock

Hancock has DEFINITELY met a Deaf traveler before, I mean it’s Goodneighbor. I think he would communicate with writing things, whether on dirt or walls or any available paper. Now that he’s traveling with Sole though, he’s trying to learn so he can communicate easier with anyone passing through Goodneighbor. (Though I think he’s definitely the guy who wants to learn curses and phallic words first).

Strong

He surprisingly doesn’t immediately hate them for it. But he will get frustrated when Sole don’t respond. he eventually figures out that they’ve been signing to him and their responses are all half guesses. He thinks about leaving but then remembers that they’ve lived this long without hearing ANYTHING (this is untrue, you may be able to hear something but he doesn’t know that). So he stays with Sole a bit longer, relying on gestures and lip reading if they can. They both learn that his big hands don’t make great signing and he gives up on learning anything expressive and slowing learns receptively by watching them.

Curie

Curie finds it fascinating, but not surprising that Sole can survive out here. She likes watching them and studying how they function in the world without hearing. When she’s still a nanny bot she very easily learns receptive sign, but when she gets her new body she’s ecstatic to use it for herself and quickly takes to signing back to Sole. She’s a quick stumbling kind of signer though so she can be hard to understand.

Cait

Cait and Tommy are super fucking confused when the person who killed every raider in the combat zone doesn’t respond at first. Her first impression is that they were stupid or playing a joke, she’s never met a Deaf person before. When she and Sole first travel together she finds the ‘what’s, ‘huh’s, confused faces, and or lack of responses extremely annoying. As they travel together though and she starts to realize they really view her as a person she’ll apologize. She never really gets good at sign but she’ll sign small things to you and struggle to understand when Sole signs back. 

Maccready

This guy also already has a concept of sign. But not conversational in the slightest, still, he takes to it like a duck on water. He’s probably ending up the easiest to sign to (other than like Nick) because he ends up focusing on learning sign for like a few months straight and is using it constantly after. He does tell Sole that he wants to teach Duncan when he sees him again or get word passed on to his old home since it could prove useful to Deaf and hearing kids.

Gage

He’s a bit confused at first, and in all honesty considers leaving them in that ratty ass bumper car room, but he remembers that they need a new overboss and it’s not like they haven’t had people with hearing loss in the raiders gangs before. He finds most of the things they do pretty normal, like lipreading and being extra vigilant, hearing can be hard, and words muddle together, it only makes sense that you’d watch someone’s mouth to know what they’re saying- wait that’s not normal? Huh, maybe the years of explosions and gunfire are getting to him. 

He does end up learning sign and finds it a lot easier then verbal communication 

Nick

Nick is already fluent, he knows what Deaf people are from his past memories. He doesn’t even realize he knows sign until him and Sole are talking and he ends up enjoying travelling with them. Nothing much really changed about your relationship. The Kellogg case does become more difficult since they can’t hear him in the memory den

Codsworth

He was with Sole pre war and due to his programming he already understands signing but can’t sign back. He mostly just points and stuff. 

Piper

Thank god for Piper. Due to the speaker entrance chances are Sole wouldn’t get into Diamond City unassisted. But with Piper’s scheme they both got in with ease. She realizes there’s something up immediately and when Sole tells her about their hearing she immediately tries an interview. This of course does not go well. As they travel together she tries to pick up sign but never gets good at it. One thing Sole misses out on are her yap sessions. Don’t get me wrong, she still has them, but they both know that there’s no way in hell that Sole is understanding most of what she’s saying.

Dogmeat

Honestly, he probably won’t notice at first, he protects Sole the same and unless they’re nonverbal he’s probably gonna take awhile. He might just think they’re quiet. After some time though Dogmeat will start listening to and watching for signed command and instead of baking to alert them he’ll paw at their foot or jump and try to catch their attention if he’s too far away and still in view. They both work out pretty well, he’s a good dog.

Ada

Ada has never met a Deaf person and Sole cannot read Ada’s lips so it’s a struggle. They eventually get a similar relationship to the one Sole would have with Strong.

X6-88

What the fuck is this hand language, why is Father not like this? How is this person still alive? So many questions. He’s never met a Deaf person and no one’s told him, they’ve had broken synths who can’t hear, is that the same? He asks a lot of questions, some uncomfortable or kind of rude and honestly sucks at first, but once he gets to know them and realize he’s getting closer to Sole, he apologizes and tones it down. He ends up taking to sign pretty well and realizes how useful it is in day to day as well as battle. He ends up acting as an interpreter if Sole lets him.

Danse

At first he thinks they aren’t listening on purpose, then realizes what’s actually going on. He’s never met a Deaf traveler. Being already bad with people this makes him anxious, which comes off as aggression, but he realizes how much easier it is to be around them. He doesn’t take part in small talk and takes to sign pretty well. Similar to X6-88 he’ll probably ask a lot of questions, some being a bit rude. Though, at least he’ll have shame when asking these at least.

[wolfjackle-creates]

Bring Me Home Arc 2 Part 18

Welcome to another WIP Wednesday!

Story Summary: Tim and Danny are both neglected by parents who care more about their work than their families. They deal with this by spending too much time online and find each other playing MMORPGs. They keep up their friendship as Tim becomes Robin and Danny becomes Phantom and don't bother keeping secrets from each other.

Arc 1 AO3 Link

Arc 2: Part 1, Previous

Word Count: 1.7k

-----

From the radio station, the four traveled to the television studio for their next interview. The host had listened to their radio interview and helped summarize much of the information before asking further questions.

Tim and his teammates called into question the biases of the Drs Fenton and hoped their criticisms would bring others to think twice before taking their word as gospel.

When they were finally done, it was almost nine.

Tim shot off a quick text to Bruce for his morning check-in. He noticed Conner texting someone, too. “Who’re you talking to?” he asked.

“Sam. She says Danny’s still passed out. But her parents are talking about some sort of press release the mayor is planning on putting on at City Hall at ten.”

Cassie groaned. “Ugh, more reporters. Please say we don’t have to go.”

“We should,” said Tim. “But we can go in civvies.”

“Can we at least get breakfast first?” asked Bart. “It’s been hours since we woke up!”

“Yeah,” agreed Cassie. “I’m starving. Let’s get some food. I think I saw a diner when we flew to our second interview.”

Before Tim could consider protesting, Conner had him secure in his arms and TTK and they were in the air.

“Lead the way, Wonder Girl.”

Tim scowled to hide his smile. “Oh sure, don’t listen to your leader. Just do whatever.”

“You’d let us starve?” wailed Connor. “Then we’ll stage a mutiny!”

Cassie laughed. “Yeah, see how long you remain in charge of a hangry speedster, half-kryptonian, and demigoddess.”

Tim grinned. “Oh, but you forget I know you all very well. I can win you back to my side. Starting with Kon.”

“And how do you plan to do that?” demanded Conner.

“Easy. I’ll just bribe you with Alfred’s cookies and a great movie. If I add in a dash of ‘I need your help’ and my puppy dog eyes and you’ll be eating out of the palm of my hand.”

“That’s another square on my bingo card!” called back Cassie. “And look, we’re here!” She pointed down to a quintessential American diner with green glass windows.

The group met Bart a block away in an alley where they shed their gear.

“I’ll tell Sam what we’re up to.” Conner pulled out his phone to send the message.

“Quit wasting time! We’re on a deadline,” moaned Bart as he positioned himself behind Conner and tried to push him towards the street and breakfast.

Conner laughed and refused to budge, so Tim figured a demonstration of his power was in order.

He got in front of Conner and pouted at him. “I know I was joking about not allowing breakfast, but I’m the one who didn’t eat before the interviews. An omelet is calling my name.”

Conner groaned and ran a hand down his face. “Fuck you, Rob.” But he stalked forward out of the alley.

Tim and Bart exchanged grins.

“Seriously, Tim,” said Cassie. “This trip has been great for my bingo card.”

Tim stuck his tongue out at her and jogged to catch up with Conner.

Breakfast was simple but tasty and they devoured far too much food. Their waitress was clearly impressed with her first exposure to a speedsters appetite. Add in a super and a demigoddess and it was obscene.

All too soon, however, it was time to go to the mayor’s press conference. As they made their way there, they joined a growing crowd. Clearly many people were interested in whatever the mayor had planned.

In the crowd, he could hear comments about their interviews. It seems both had been posted online and already had thousands of views. Some people seemed to be sympathetic to them, but others were mistrustful of the “outsiders.”

“If they’re such good friends, why did it take so long for them to come here?” asked one man of his friend.

“I’ve a cousin in Central City. She says trouble always follows a superhero,” said another.

Tim exchanged a look with Conner. He’d be able to hear more conversations and could share his perceptions later.

Before long, they were entering City Hall. Already the seats were full, so they were forced to stand in the back. Jack and Maddie were sitting near the front. Jeremy and Pamela Manson sat on the opposite side of the room as them, but also were near the front of the room.

Tim exchanged looks with his teammates to make sure they saw both couples. Conner was glaring at Maddie and Jack.

“They’re complaining about our interviews,” said Conner. “Throwing around guesses that we are either possessed or have already been brainwashed by the ghosts.”

“At least we know they aren’t observant. Maybe they won’t notice us.”

Mayor Montez stepped up to the podium and everyone fell silent. “People of Amity Park, we have been faced with a threat the likes of which we’ve never before seen! And based on the events of this morning, it doesn’t seem like we’ll be able to rely on outside help to get us out of it.”

A stone sunk in Tim’s stomach and he exchanged looks with his friends.

“We only have one piece of business today: Defeating the ghosts that infest our town. And to do that, I'm calling for a vote to cede all ghost policing and security decisions”—he held up a photo of Maddie—“to Maddie Fenton.” As Tim watched, however, the mayor’s eyes glowed red and he winced. “I mean Jack,” he corrected, holding up a new picture of Jack Fenton. “The completely competent Jack Fenton.”

“He’s overshadowed,” breathed Conner.

Tim nodded and was already sending a message to Sam, Tucker, and Danny. “And who knows who else.”

Before they could say anything else, the mayor continued, “And we’ve located the ghost responsible for all the terror inflicted on our town.” He held up a picture of Phantom. “Whatever some outsiders may have tried to lie to you about this very morning.”

A gasp rang out among the crowd. Tim glanced at his friends. Conner was glaring at the mayor fiercely and Tim attempted to step in front of him, as pointless as their relative sizes made the action.

The mayor smiled viciously as a panicked crescendo rose from the crowd. Tim’s phone vibrated in his hand and he saw a response from Sam.

Sam: We saw Sam: Danny is on his way Sam: And we’re following as fast we can

Under his breath, Tim muttered, “Conner, you and Bart should go suit up. Cassie and I will stay and keep an eye on what’s going on. Stay close, but try not to be seen unless an attack happens.” Subtly, grateful for their places against the wall, he passed over the thermos he’d taken with him that morning.

Tim heard Conner’s sigh of relief as the two slipped away. He hated pretending to be a civilian in a crisis. Even more than the rest of them.

Cassie whispered, “I almost hate you for keeping me here.”

Tim just bumped their shoulders together.

The mayor, or rather the ghost inhabiting him, raised his arm and silence slowly fell. “We cannot call for outside help. Those who call themselves the Young Justice today proved that the so-called heroes of this world will defend our enemy over us. That they will spread lies to keep us subject to the whims of these ghosts.” The last word was spat. “So we must solve the problem ourselves. Jack Fenton, if the people of this town agree, you and those you train will be our defense force, will you do this?”

Jack near jumped three feet in the air in his excitement. “I’ve been training for this my entire life, Mayor Montez! I’ll be honored.”

“I believe we must institute martial law! The 9 PM curfew will remain in place. No one will be allowed on the streets alone. No loitering. The park will be closed until further notice. Same with the public pool and library and a number of other locations. Drs Fenton, will you be able to set up buildings protected by ghost shields where people can gather for safety?”

Whispering broke out among the public. Maddie stood tall next to her husband, though being continually overlooked in favor of him was clearly grating on her. “We can. Fenton Works is already protected and within two days we can have another shield up and ready. Within the week, we could have five.”

The whispered were almost loud enough to drown her out by the time she finished speaking

“Order! Order!” called Mayor Montez. “All in favor of declaring martial law, and allowing the completely competent Jack Fenton to mobilize a massive ghost hunt, please say—”

But cutting off the mayor, Danny, in his Phantom form, suddenly appeared in the air in the middle of the hall. “I might be too young to vote, but I’m casting one anyway.”

Around them, everyone gasped and people began backing away even as Danny shifted to look at them. Tim and Cassie both tensed and prepared to run.

“You people have to listen to me,” urged Danny. “I’m on your side.”

Mayor Montez took a step back as members of his security moved to stand in front of him. Jack and Maddie jumped up and glared at him.

“You’re not fooling anybody, ghost kid!” declared Jack. “You are going down!” He reached back and pulled out the Fenton fishing rod, the line was horribly tangled and Jack began messing with it. “As soon as I finish untangling this thing.”

Cassie let out a disbelieving huff.

Tim shook his head. “Apparently,” he replied to her unasked question. He pulled out his phone and shot a message to Bart and Conner.

Rob: get back here now Rob: All 4 of us are needed

Before he even finished typing his last message, Bart was at his side. Just in time to see Danny mutter something and shoot an ectoblast at his parents who were thrown back with the force of it, destroying the podium and leaving a burn mark on the ground.

“Shit,” muttered Tim. “Cassie, let’s go. Impulse, try to help where you can.”

“You’ve got it.”

----

Next

And so the best of intentions go awry!

I can almost taste the end of this arc, but for all I know, that'll take another 10k to finish. So we'll see what happens. Hope you enjoyed.

I no longer do tag lists, but please check out the Subscription Post if you want to be notified of updates.

[yuri-is-online]

I love the Fyuuture kid au. Could I ask for Ace!yutu, the idea of Yutu getting second hand embarrassment at Ace's flirting attempts makes me laugh so much, just yutu standing there watching ace self sabotage himself when it comes to Yuu wondering how Yuu and Ace managed to get together in the future. (Yutu has definitely judged his father a few times in silence)

Another thing that lives rent free in my head when thinking of Ace and Yutu is when Ace finds out that Yuu is basically dead in the future. That has to be a crushing discovering for him considering that he's (and Deuce) very protective of Yuu

(also the idea of Deuce's future co workers deciding that Yuu is a danger and basically cursed Yuu to die has to make him feel uneasy about weather he'd want to work for a company that basically sentenced Yuu to die once everything is resolved but that's a conversation for another day)

notes: they/them used for Yuu, for context on the fyuuture kid au can be found here and here.

Slight bit of clarification, the Magical Marshall's appear to be a government organization, or perhaps a type of law enforcement that each government has?  The way Deuce spoke about it made me think they sound similar to a counter terrorism unit, but either way your point still stands.  While Deuce never gets the complete picture of what happened to Yuu, he still knows in his heart it was his office that hurt them, and it's extremely difficult for him to live with.  The office stands by it's decision to the bitter end, no matter what he says or how many monster attacks are reported.  And if he gets too annoying, well they already made you disappear.

And with that lovely thought let's talk about Ace!

Ace! Yutu is a fairly normal kid.  He doesn't really have friends, maybe a discord buddy or two who he plays games with, but no one he really trusts to talk with about his family situation.  And he does see it as a situation, Yuu might be doing their best to make things normal for the two of them but the entire situation just stinks.  Yutu knows there's something wrong with it but he can't put his finger on what…

Very smart.  He taught himself how to count cards and got in trouble at school more than once for running blackjack games where he took a bunch of money from his classmates.  Not his fault they suck at cards!  And sure he could just cheat like normal (he's just as good at cutting the deck as dear old dad) but it's much more fun to do something technically legal.  It makes people that much more mad, which he finds really funny.

He tries to not talk about his dad that much, though he might make a joke or two about fatherless behavior. Much like Cater! Yutu, he assumes that his dad is probably dead and while he's very curious, he's reluctant to poke at Yuu's memories for fear of causing them more pain.  When he does think about his dad he tends to romanticize things, Yuu's description of him makes their relationship sound really sweet.  Marrying his best friend sounds great to Yutu, his dad must have felt really lucky to have managed to obtain that.

Getting isekaid doesn't phase this Yutu at all.  He was already so convinced something was off back in your world, learning he was a mage and all about Yuu's adventures just confirms all of his assumptions. Getting placed into Heartslabyul and being told that was Ace's dorm thrills him, doubly so when he gives Crewel his first migraine and gets told he's just like him. That's not to say Yutu is completely happy about his situation; his father is dead (Yutu refuses to acknowledge the monster wearing his face as a person) and Yuu effectively died ages ago, the curse placed on them just drew it out for a cruel amount of time. Yutu's angry, and what's worse is that he doesn't really have one person he can fix the blame on. He wishes Yuu or Ace were alive so he could ask who they blame, who he needs to seek out to get them justice. When the others propose traveling back in time he leaps at it without a second thought.

Crewel does try to tell Yutu about his dad, but his descriptions sort of go over Yutu's head until he actually meets him. To be fair to Yutu, he's not completely off in his assumptions about how Ace felt about Yuu, it's obvious that Ace was smitten with his parent from the start but he doesn't fully understand the denial Crewel is talking about. The blot monster Ace became is very cocky, and excels at misdirection so why would he be shy about flirting with Yuu?

Well maybe shy isn't the right word for whatever he's looking at now. Ace is reluctant to leave Yuu's side, but he has so many excuses as to why that it hurts his soul, wouldn't it just be easier to say "because I'm worried about you?" Instead of insulting Yuu's ability to take care of themselves and joking about you needing him but only joking! It's not like he really wants you to! And don't get him STARTED on all the little excuses Ace finds to touch you. It makes him seriously reconsider his whole opinion on wanting to marry his best friend thing because god if this is level of pathetic what it takes he doesn't think he could cope.

He assumes (maybe correctly) that Yuu is the one who made a move on Ace and that's how they got together in his timeline, something that high-key offends Ace when he finds out and he encourages you to be honest with Ace if you ever open up about your frustrations with him. That doesn't mean he ever gives Ace a break though, Ace is already suspicious of Yutu's intentions towards Yuu but his constant dunking on him has earned him Deuce's respect, so now he's lost both of his friends! What the hell guys you're supposed to be on his side!

Ace's distrust of Yutu doesn't bother Trappola Jr at all. On the contrary he thinks it's a good thing, the more he interacts with the first year group the more he appreciates how solid of a head Ace has on his shoulders. It doesn't make up for him being cringe, but it does make Yutu think he could maybe trust his dad with the truth.

I don't think any of the boys take the reveal of what Yutu's future is like well, but Ace's is especially bad. He thinks about all of the close calls he has seen you have, how afraid he was when he got those messages from you over Winter break, the S.T.Y.X. attack, every overblot he has ever seen, and now his own child is telling him that you made it through all that and his bad attempts at flirting but didn't get a happy ending. He has the same set of emotions that Yutu does, anger and grief that he has no one to really blame for. Yutu is sad he doesn't have an answer but grateful he isn't alone anymore.

The reveal makes Ace's teasing actually insufferable, he's so fucking cocky now that he knows you liiiiiike him back. See that boy over there? Actually living proof that you're into him, kinda cringe actually! He bets you used to have a crush on him too (just turn it around on him if you're in public he will melt.)

They like to try and out play each other in cards, Ace can't card count but he is better at reading people and better at cutting the deck so they have a pretty even win loss ratio. Yutu isn't above whining to Yuu about how his dad is being mean if he's on a losing streak, something that makes Ace fold quicker than he'd like. Neither of them will ever admit it out loud but they have a silent competition for your affection, Ace thinks you should be cheering for him since he's your future husband and Yutu thinks that you should cheer for him because he is capable of being honest about his emotions. When Grim starts whining for attention they call a truce and fight him instead.

Speaking of Grim, he has a relatively good opinion of Yutu in general based off seeing him as Henchuman 2 but when he finds out Ace is his dad? Respect ended he always knew that Yutu kid was a loser... all those times he refused to get him tuna make so much more sense now!

Learning about the future makes Ace even more protective of Yuu, and he doesn't make it much of a secret either. There's something about learning that your partner is supposed to die that makes you care a lot less about what your classmates think. That protectiveness extends to Yutu, but Ace is a bit more subtle with that. He understands that he isn't the version of himself that the kid needs to hear from, that he might not be able to give Yutu the support he needs but he loves the kid so much it sort of scares him. He's really looking forward to getting to be with Yuu and Yutu in the future, and if that means he has to put a little extra work in then so be it.

[jasscheeks]

how they would…

act in a secret relationship.

pairings: megumi, yuji, inumaki, maki, gojo x f!reader

this. now this is self-indulgent.

warnings: no warnings but you might 💀 of fluff

m.list! | ao3!

MEGUMI* is just trying his hardest to hide it from gojo and anyone he believes will tell gojo. the two of you have been dating for maybe a few months now, and he's relatively good at hiding his feelings considering he hid them from you for a year straight. but it's his face, oh it's definitely his face. everyone can see the clear redness in megumi's cheeks, so much so he forces himself to wear a mask. but it doesn't do much as his blushing travels up his ears. he can't help it, he's always admiring you even when it doesn't look like it. although they’re small gestures, it makes his heart swell seeing the smile on your face. it's the occasional glance your way, checking what type of face you're making before he makes a face, when you move he's not too far behind you. it’s holding doors open for you, — which unfortunately makes him the designated door holder for everyone — or it’s him watching over you discreetly before gently moving you out of harm's way. his fingers brush over yours, and a shy pinky hooks onto yours when no one's watching. and when you two finally find some time to be alone, he's letting go of the breath he's kept in all day and melting into your touch. his hand caresses your waist as he rests his head in the crook of your neck, recharging himself. you're sweet, a literal angel in his eyes that he can't help but sink in his admiration for you.

but of course, you weren’t completely alone, as gojo was able to snap a picture in the small amount of time you two stood there.

—

“just one kiss, that’s all i need,”

you snort, “okayy,”

“…”

“..alright, maybe one more…”

—

ITADORI* is already so friendly with everyone that no one suspects a thing when he has his arm slumped around your shoulders. he's always somehow standing next to you, when you have something in your hands he's leaning down close to see, and when you're giggling he's the one who whispered the joke to you. no one bats an eye when he’s playing with your fingers, or you’re holding both his hands like nobara does to you when she’s excited. to everyone else, it's like nothing's changed between the two of you since he's like that with everyone. there are certain things he doesn’t do so they don’t suspect anything, like kisses, hugs, or holding your hand. he doesn't mind people knowing about the two of you, but until you're ready he's willing to keep it hushed. but he has to admit, it would feel so good to just bend down and place a little kiss on your lips or just sneakily hug your waist from behind you. of course he can't kiss you in front of everyone, but that doesn't stop him from pulling you away for just a second and kissing your lips like he hasn't kissed you in days. when the two of you step away, you truly take your time before coming back with red cheeks and messy hair.

sooner or later they’d pick up the clues and tie them together. and that just might be the reason why the two of you couldn’t keep your relationship a secret for too long.

—

"babe? is there something wrong? you've been quiet ever since lunch,"

"yuji...i think i'm ready to tell everyone,"

"...how about tomorrow?"

"slow your roll there, sir,"

—

INUMAKI* is so good at hiding it, they won't find out until maybe months into the relationship. he made up his own gestures to sign to you so neither maki nor panda would know. he'll tap your arm when he thinks you look pretty, link your index fingers for 'be safe', or he'll intertwine your hands together when no one's looking and gently squeeze your hand in his for 'i love you'. you realized that he taps your arm every time he sees you and he squeezes your hand whenever he gets the chance, making your cheeks burn. he's sweet in his quiet little way, and you can't help but want to kiss the life out of his face when shares his way of loving you. the only way either of you would give your relationship away was how the two of you stayed around each other, how your fingers would glide over each other's hands, and maybe how sweet you talked to inumaki. sometimes, panda and maki would catch him ogling at you with big hearts in his eyes, his attention solely on you alone. panda would catch him stuffing his pockets with candies that you like and by the end of the day it's all gone, yet inumaki didn't eat a single one. even if panda asked him for one, he'd immediately say no.

as you can tell panda took offense to that. digging a bit deeper, he caught you and inumaki cuddling in inumaki’s and panda’s shared room, wrappers of that same candy littered all over inumaki’s nightstand.

—

"toge, it's time to get up, panda's gonna be here in any moment,"

"just a few more minutes..."

"i promise we can cuddle all we want when he leaves,"

"...let's just tell him, this secret stuff is too much work now."

—

MAKI* treats you like a princess no matter if you're by yourselves or you're in public. she's a gentlewoman who's not afraid of holding doors open for you(but for no one else), keeping you out of trouble, and just all around being the best secret girlfriend there is. she has no shame in staring at you with the biggest heart eyes, and if someone asks why she'll just say she thinks some part of your appearance looks good today. although this just makes everyone think that she has a huge crush on you, they're not completely wrong. plus she never realized how cute you are when she teases you in secret. she loves to see the way you react to her blowing on your ears or holding your hand in the back of the group. when no one's looking she's winking your way, sending butterflies flurrying in your stomach. or she's pulling you in from your waist, quickly planting a kiss on your cheek before everyone looks back at her. while she's completely unfazed, you're a smiley mess trying to keep up a poker face. she apologizes in private making sure to give you all the hugs and cuddles you two missed out on.

and you can’t stay mad at her when she’s kissing you all over, promising so many cute picnics and lunch dates soon.

—

“you know i don’t mean to embarrass you! it’s just so difficult not to tease you,”

“maki, can you at least try? you’re killing me!”

“sooner or later they’ll find out our sweet and innocent (y/n) is with me.”

“i’d rather tell them than have them catch us kissing,”

“hmm, then should we tell them before that happens, don’t you think?”

—

GOJO* is surprised he hasn’t screamed from the roof tops that he’s dating you. if you hadn’t asked for your relationship to be private he would’ve already blabbed all about it. since this man can’t help but blab on and on, you’ve kept him on a tight leash. but he does have a habit of bringing you up on multiple occasions, even if the conversation has nothing to do with you. it’s always the “i wonder what (y/n)’s doing right now,” or “(y/n) would find that really cute, maybe i should get it?” or the “just wait till, (y/n) sees/hears this.” he can barely contain it, you’re all that’s on his mind 25/8. and of course his students hate when you’re not there because that’s when he talks about you the most. they all think he has a big, fat, one-sided crush on you with how much he gushed over you, with or without you present. and when you’re around you try to act as indifferent as you can when gojo openly flirts with you — even after multiple occasions when you told him not to. but even then you do let a few of his jeers and compliments get to your heart, your warm face and stutters making his chest fill with pride. although you say no, you know deep down you love the small gestures he displays and cute compliments his students quote. but if it wasn’t for the “no touching rule” you set — that of which he absolutely despised, he would’ve gave everything away with how touchy he is with you. with his lack of space, the secret relationship would be as transparent as glass.

and one day when he finally has you to himself in an empty classroom, itadori just had to walk in on him and you making out. although, gojo didn’t fret too much because now he could finally be open with his never ending affections for you.

—

“so, can i hug you in public?”

“pretty sure i said no touching, toru,”

“not even a hug? then can i call you nicknames? like swee—,”

“if they start with sweet and end with kikufiku, then no,”

“damn… that’s my only one,”

—

[biblio-smia]

the last thing i need — two.

warnings: twd content warnings, contains smut

pairings: glenn rhee x reader

[one.] [two.] [three.]

The ride back to your destination was a silent one, save for the occasional directions from T-Dog and the distant sound of the siren of Glenn's new ride.

Nerves prickled at your skin like needles as you considered your minimal options; you'd just gotten saved by this group. You thought it'd be a little rude to abandon them immediately. But the reaction of the group worried you the most; you weren't sure how welcoming they were of newcomers.

Seeing Rick reunite with his family was heartwarming - what were the chances he ran into people that ran with them? It was almost hard to believe Rick had been in the dark about the state of the world until recently. Part of you wondered how it'd take for him to lose his humanity. For all of you to lose it.

This new world came with new rules - though you didn't know how well your morals would hold up now.

The camp accepted you into their group with no argument, seemingly in a good mood after seeing a family brought together.

The campfire provided the warmth you needed and Glenn's body next to yours provided a warmth you didn't know you craved.

****

You weren't quite sure what to do with yourself once the flames died out, a reflection of the group's energy. You stood around, watching the embers of the fire die out as everyone packed into their tents. A cool breeze picked up, nipping at your skin tauntingly.

"You can sleep with me."

You turned around, surprised at the sudden voice.

"I mean," You could see the embarrassment on Glenn's face despite the pale moonlight. "I didn't mean it in that way."

You couldn't help the giggle that escaped you, prompting a small, awkward laugh from Glenn.

"Okay. I don't really have a choice, do I?" Your attempt at a joke came out much too dry. Too late. You could see, or more so sense, Glenn's face fall.

You stepped closer to Glenn, lowering your voice and drawing him in.

"I'd love to sleep with you. In that way."

Quickly walking past him, you climbed into his small orange tent, the embarrassment suddenly catching up to you.

Glenn followed shortly after, balled up flannel held stiffly in front of his legs as he took a seat as far away from you as possible.

You shot him a curious glance, only momentarily distracted by the tight t-shirt he was wearing.

Glenn glanced away quickly, hands pulling the fabric closer against himself.

A small smile made its way to your face as you closed the distance between you and Glenn - though there wasn't much to begin with.

"Glenn." You placed your hands over his, trying to pry the flannel away.

"Glenn." Placing one hand on his face, you got him to look at you, to see the gentle smile on your face. "I was serious."

You tugged on the flannel again, all the strength leaving Glenn as he let you do what you wanted. You stared at Glenn's jeans, straining against his erection.

"I-" Glenn began, but you cut him off.

"Let me help you?"

Glenn audibly gulped, but nodded. That was all you needed.

You kissed Glenn gently, savoring the feeling of his soft lips against yours. His flannel had fallen out of your hand and landed somewhere on the ground nearby - your hand was now occupied with stroking Glenn through his jeans.

You tilted Glenn’s head back to deepen the kiss, increasing the pressure of your hand against Glenn’s jeans. Glenn moaned softly into your mouth and into your ear as you moved your lips to his cheek and down his neck. Your lips were running out of places to wander and so you removed yourself completely from Glenn.

"Shirt off." You ordered, taking off your own. It was a little funny to see Glenn clumsily do as you said, already missing your touch.

You took a moment to admire Glenn - his toned arms and stomach contrasted his soft face and demeanor. He captured your lips this time, hands messily traveling around your waist.

"Here-" you whispered in between kisses. You stripped yourself nude and Glenn became the brightest shade of red you'd ever seen.

"Shit..." Glenn's hands froze, unsure of what he was allowed to do.

You took his hands in yours, guiding them up to your chest. You let out a low moan as he began exploring the area, his gentle movements sending heat straight between your legs.

Your kisses became more aggressive as you moved onto Glenn's lap, needing more of him. Your bare chest pressed against his as your hands gently tugged at Glenn’s hair, wet kisses exchanged as lust completely took over. The heat between your legs was one only he could put out now that he'd ignited it.

You rolled your hips as Glenn's hands continued working you, moans slipping out of him as you moved against his still-clothed dick. His hard-on poked against you as you bounced on him, making you moan into Glenn’s shoulder. “Shit, I can feel you, Glenn.”

"God, please," Glenn whined, placing a hand on your hip. Glenn was going to stain his jeans if this went on any longer. "I- I need you."

"Fuck, Glenn." You muttered, shoving your tongue into his mouth.

Your hands moved down to unbutton Glenn's jeans, his hands coming down to help you in getting them and his underwear off.

You clenched against nothing just seeing him, almost unable to wait for the feeling of Glenn inside of you. He was already leaking in anticipation, eager for your touch.

Your hands wrapped around him immediately, messily twisting and jerking, small gasps and whines from Glenn making you drip.

"Fuck, you're good, you're so good," Glenn moaned quietly, head thrown back in pleasure. It wasn't long before he stopped your hands from working him.

"Wait," he panted. "I wanna..." Glenn's eyes moved down to your legs and you understood his wordless intentions. Slowly, you moved your hands off him and to your own jeans, slowly slipping your bottom layers off.

And, God, you were beautiful.

Glenn pushed a pile of clothes together to create more space between you and the cold, hard ground of the tent, laying you down gently.

"Is this good? Are you okay?" Glenn asked nervously, glancing at your eyes for any hint of regret as he hovered over you.

"I'm good." You ran your fingers through Glenn's hair, pushing back some that had fallen into his eyes. "I'm better than good."

"Can I... Can I touch you?"

"Yes," You nodded. "Please do."

"I'm not really good at this," Glenn warned. "So just tell me if I do something wrong, okay?"

"Okay."

Glenn felt your arousal, fingers slick as he entered them into you. He bit back a moan as he felt you, wet because of him. Glenn took his time fingering you, sweet and slow movements making you bite your tongue to keep from letting the entire camp know how skilled Glenn's hands were.

"Glenn," urgency filling your voice. "I need you in me, now."

"Shit, yeah, okay," Glenn nodded with only a moment's hesitation. "I don't have- I don't have a condom."

"Doesn't matter," Your desire dazed you, keeping you from thinking straight. "Just pull out?"

"Yeah, okay," Glenn nodded again, hands on your hips to keep you steady.

You closed your eyes in anticipation, though nothing could've prepared you for the sweet feeling of Glenn, filling you with something you'd never felt before.

You muffled your moans with your hands, which were quickly replaced with Glenn's lips, his own sounds of pleasure mixing with yours.

He lifted one of your legs, muscles flexing with strain as he pushed further into you. His thrusts started sweet yet purposeful, hitting you in exactly the right place.

"God, Glenn." Your back arched into him, his movements quickening. You knew you were done for as he moved his face to your shoulder in an attempt to muffle his loudest moan yet.

"Glenn, I'm gonna- " You were cut off by Glenn's swollen lips on yours, sloppy kisses exchanged as you came, sweetly and with nothing else to lose.

Glenn pulled out quickly, coming right after. His will had broken down when your high was reached, knowing he couldn't last long after the feeling of you unloading around him - knowing he had helped you reach euphoria.

Your chest heaved as Glenn searched for something to clean your mess up with, already missing the feeling of Glenn inside of you. It felt right - his body pressed against yours, filling all the empty spaces you were missing.

You shook yourself out of your thoughts, cleaning up alongside an equally winded Glenn. He laid down next to you, turning to face you.

"That was... amazing." Glenn whispered, cupping your face in his hand, mindful of your bruised cheek.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He kissed you again, gently. This one, however, was full of hope.

****

The crunching of leaves under your boots seemed like the loudest thing in the world compared to the silence of the camp, the only persisting sound being a variety of bugs singing.

“Going somewhere?” A voice asked expectantly, almost out of nowhere.

Shit. You forgot Shane was on watch.

You turned around quickly. In the dim moonlight, you could make Shane out from a few feet away. You thought about your words before you spoke. Shane seemed like a reasonable man. A protective one, too.

“We both know it's better if I leave," you said honestly.

Shane scoffed. “For who? You? Because we both know it wouldn't be for the camp. Power in numbers, remember?”

Shane was smiling, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. His right hand inched near his back pocket - it was a subtle movement, but you had a good eye.

You laughed, demeanor changing immediately. “You're right,” you said. “I guess I was just... so used to being on my own. Don't know what I was thinking."

It was an obvious lie, but the break you forced your voice to take helped your case.

Shane’s hands dropped to his side and he smiled. “Glenn seems to taken a liking to you. Why don't ya get back to him?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, heading back to the direction of the tent you had left Glenn in. “Goodnight, Shane,” you said with a sweet smile as you passed the man, careful to keep your distance.

“Goodnight.”  

Your smile dropped as you turned around, rage filling you instead. You weren't sure if you imagined it now, the darkness of the night potentially messing with your eyes, but you made a note never to be alone with Shane again.

You entered the tent quietly, a half-naked Glenn sleeping soundly just as you'd left him. He'd fallen asleep with his arms wound around you, making your escape difficult and clearly in vain as you carefully placed his arms around you again. You turned away from him.

You didn't want to look at the face of the man you had planned on abandoning.

「 … 」

You made sure to get up first, unwinding yourself from Glenn for the second time. This time, however, daylight illuminated his soft features. You took a second to analyze them, his expression showing no indication of the world you lived in. He looked relaxed. Free. You wondered what he was dreaming about.

You left the tent quietly, still respectful of the peace Glenn was able to keep, even if it was just for a few hours. The sun shone over the small camp, the brand new day bringing new opportunities. You asked around for a purpose; you had originally planned on being miles away by now.

One lady, Carol, directed you to the laundry. You complied, the task being easy enough for you to plan your next move. You couldn't leave now, not when everyone was roaming around in broad daylight. You'd keep tabs on who was on watch tonight and run the other way. It was decided.

A quick-moving figure from the corner of your eye caught your attention as it approached. Your attention turned away from the laundry and onto Glenn, who seemed a little out-of-breath.

"You..." a breath, "were gone... thought something happened..."

You almost felt guilty at Glenn's concern.

"Nope. Right here," you remained expressionless, watching as Glenn's face faltered.

"Yeah, I see that now..." Glenn shifted from foot to foot. There was something he wanted to say, but he wouldn't.

Your expectant gaze and cold demeanor made him nervous, fingers bundling the fabric of his shirt.

"Last night..." Glenn waited for you to say anything; you did not. "I just wasn't sure if it... if we—"

"There's no we, Glenn. It was a one time thing." Your words were harsh, but they were true. The last thing you needed right now was romance. You were in an apocalypse! You had bigger things to worry about and so did Glenn. It was nothing more than a little bit of stress relief.

And yet, as you picked up a laundry bin and walked away from a defeated Glenn, you couldn't help but feel a pull at your heart.

The tug in your chest did not go away as the day went on. Not as you shadowed Carol, helping her out with any task you could. Especially not as you discovered the asshole on the roof had a brother.

Daryl Dixon was as much of a character as Merle. You could see the relationship between the two.

Your heart continued sinking as a plan unfolded — a completely stupid one — and the look Rick gave Glenn, asking him to come along. The nail in the coffin was Glenn agreeing to go.

A panic began to fester in you as Glenn prepared to leave. You weren't quite sure what made you approach him.

"You're seriously going back?" Your voice surprised Glenn, who jumped before turning to face you.

"I have to," Glenn said factually.

"Then I'm coming with you." You weren't sure where the sentiment came from; you did not feel strongly about saving Merle.

"No, you're not. We barely got out last time—" "Which is exactly why you shouldn't go." You crossed your arms, an annoyed look on your face.

Glenn sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"We left one of our own behind. I can't... as awful as he is, I couldn't live with myself knowing we just left him to die. He could still be alive up there."

You looked in Glenn's eyes, seeing the determination in his eyes. Although there was a hint of fear mixed in, it was almost the most passionate you'd seen Glenn.

And as much as you hated to admit it, you were in no condition to go back. You were tired and you were hungry. Your legs still ached from your escape and you weren't sure you'd be able to outrun another hoard of walkers.

And if you learned anything about Glenn other than his name, you knew he left no one behind. No exceptions.

"Okay," you said finally. Glenn hadn't been asking for your permission but a weight lifted off his shoulders regardless, a smile cracking on his face. "But I don't like owing people things. And as of right now, I owe you my life, Glenn. I need to repay you for that, so don't die on me out there."

Glenn's smile faltered and you held back a smile. After careful consideration and a little hesitation, you placed a soft kiss on Glenn's cheek. Glenn could only stand there, dumbfounded, watching as you walked away.

[plum-pitt]

Holy shit. I just realized i’ve never even yapped about my headcanons for the rise guys. This is a criminal offense on my part! Must be rectified immediately!!

Disclaimer: Don’t think there’s a lot of hot takes here, but feel free to disagree and talk about your own interpretations if you’d like!! Headcanon is fun and i love discussing it. it’s all fictional and since the text doesn’t give us much concrete shit on these topics we’re all free to make our own, equally valid readings of it. :3

Leo- Transmasc He/Him, gay as fuck who here could’ve guessed, ADHD haver, definitely smokes weed. Fluent in spanish from watching telenovellas as a child. Wants to be a flirty whore/aff so fucking bad but whenever he sees someone he’s legitimately attracted to any charisma he might’ve had gets thrown out the window and into a woodchipper in favor of helpless stuttering. His portalling mishaps early in the series have led him to silly sidequests all over the world that he just,,,, doesn’t really talk about. This won’t come up until they’ll end up in some random ass place and find out just how well travelled and connected he actually is. He’s also got a job at Hueso’s for fun and extra cash to fund his addiction to pot and ordering stupid shit he doesn’t need online. He’s a server, wears rollerskates to “move faster” on the job, just ends up running into shit more often than not. Great with the kids tho, performs little sleight of hand magic tricks and tells jokes to make them happy, never had a fussy kid he couldn’t calm down in a snap. Calls himself Hueso’s nephew and nepotism hire, ignoring the fact that he’s actually a decently competent and well liked employee outside of the several skating related accidents. Shell was cracked badly in the invasion, when they sealed it up, he asked Mikey to paint the healed cracks gold, mimicking the japanese practice of Kintsugi.

Mikey- Definitely queer but not into labels ;3 He/Him is what he defaults to, but any pronouns work for them. Semi fluent in italian, don’t ask me why, just feels right, let chef boy speak italian dammit. One of those mfs on instagram who insists on posting pictures of the food he makes, except his actually looks good and not painfully mediocre so they get a pass. Has been tagging walls in hard to reach spots all over the city for years at this point, after Raph confronted her abt it, fearing that he’d get caught someday, he told him that he’d stop. Yeah, that was a lie he kept doing it, just sneakier now. Makes money off of art commissions, still broke as hell tho cuz he spends it all on bougie ass ingredients and art supplies. Post canon definitely delved more into mystics and spirituality, trains with draxum but also took up meditation in his free time. Fucks with weed and the occasional psychedelic when working on art, says it helps get the creative juices flowing. Considering asking donnie to forge some documents for him so he can attend college online and earn a psych degree. His speech patterns flip on a dime between vague, wise fortune cookie therapist man and typical gen-z slang so abruptly it gives anyone not already familiar with him total whiplash.

Donnie- NonBinary They/He Bisexual but i can’t decide if they’re the kind that can’t stop pulling or can’t pull to save his life. Fluent in several languages, ASL, French, Russian, Japanese. Actually one of their few acedemic endeavors that he doesn’t typically show off and gloat about, makes it all the scarier when his siblings hear him muttering vaguely threatening sounding shit in russian when shit doesn’t go their way. Has tried most substances for “research purposes”, ultimately decided he doesn’t like the feeling of their big ol brain being hindered under the influence, this has a few exceptions tho, mainly when it’s with Leo. Has John Bishops IP address and threatens to drop it on 4chan to “see what happens” every time he tries messing with their family or stopping him from “borrowing” material resources from the US government. Almost considered bs-ing his way into college before they used a cloaking broach to shadow april at school for like 2 days. It was there they learned that the education system fucking sucks and he probably knows more than most professors about his topics of interest anyway. Does freelance work for cash, as far as their brothers know they’re not building and selling anything dangerous (which is code for probably arming both sides in a far away military conflict with deathrays). Spends his free time cyber bullying children on roblox and twitter, and caring for their greenhouse of plants that all have names. (yes he grows weed. his GeniusGrown™️ zaza is known far and wide for its consistently excellent quality. and no, Leo does not get a family discount. Mikey does tho.)

Raph- Someone please send the big man some help😭 he/him(?) Definitely queer in some way shape or form but refuses to confront any identity crisis because he’s just so busy keeping his dumb ass siblings outta shit. Tried weed once and will never touch a substance again, makes his anxiety spike real bad when he doesn’t feel in full control of himself. Runs around with Cassandra and sometimes Jr to do vigilante justice on the side of he and his siblings’ usual patrols. Living garbage disposal and i mean that quite literally. He has and will eat anything, rocks, toys, silverware, sometimes on accident, sometimes on a dare, and sometimes just because he wants to. He grew up gnawing on the legs of furniture, rusty sewer pipes, really any nonliving thing that he could fit his choppers around (unlike donnie who just bit any living creature within a 5 mile radius of his location). Since the invasion made Leo step up as leader Raph has been able to step back a little bit and not have everything in a chokehold, he has a mini crisis about his place in the family and his sense of identity without being a leader. Tries to hide how much it’s affecting him but ofc, living with mikey, this does not last and his ass FINALLY gets chucked (very lovingly) into therapy. Loves to knit, definitely in some kind of old lady facebook group centered around it (he has so much nursing home gossip floating around in his brain hehe)

Alright that’s all for the teetlez. lmk if yall wanna hear about my thoughts on the rest of the main cast, or some of the side cast! Can’t promise i’ll have this much to say on all of em but i’ve definitely got thoughts lol. I might even make a post diving into different character dynamics. idk tho, my fingies are tired typing all that shit😭

Anyway i hope u enjoyed my ramblings, have a lovely day :3

[artistsfuneral]

The Road to Kaer Morhen - p.3

“Well some of us decided to make use of the daylight and get supplies,” Jaskier answered, proudly holding up their new belongings. The Cat Witcher frowned at him, head cocked to the side, “Rope? What on earth do we need rope for, it's a mountain path not a cliff climbing exercise.” Jaskier rolled his eyes and – pointedly ignoring Aiden – knotted the rope to the side of his pack. He'd keep the charm in his belt pouch for now. “I mean seriously, Jaskier. Wouldn't food have been better? It's not like I can help a lot in that department, given the overall,” Aiden stopped himself from continuing and waved at himself with a sour face. Jaskier sighed.

He really couldn't phantom when he had developed the habit of running into half-dead witchers in need of heroic rescuing, but at this point it had happened too many times to still be considered a coincidence. Much like it had been the case with the other three Cats, the Viper, the Griffin pair and who afterwards had insisted on being called his Crane Wife, Jaskier had found Aiden just on time. After the failed assassination attempt in Yspaden and a horrible week spent hiding in the alleys and basements of Luton, Jaskier had collected enough coin and courage to head east, towards Kaedwen. Then, when traveling through the forests of Gelibol, he suddenly came across a merchant's cart and a man with amber eyes who introduced himself as Roland Treugger. Despite the fact that the man was an excellent liar, more so than the backstabbing cretin Valdo Marx himself, Jaskier almost instantly understood that there was something off about the merchant. Lo and behold, Jaskier wasn't being paranoid and the noise he heard coming from the inside of the wagon was not some caged animal to be sold at the next market, like Treugger had insisted, but Aiden bleeding onto the floor. Jaskier remembered very vividly how after that particular discovery he had turned back around and looked at the other man with a look so dispassionate it made Treugger stumble backwards. What Jaskier – despite Aiden's constant insisting – did not remember was the fact that Treugger had straight out stumbled into Jaskier's blade. Sixteen times. It certainly was a nice thought, but alas Jaskier was nothing but a humble bard and the short sword he carried with him was mostly for decoration. Aiden didn't believe him for a second.

Nevertheless the damage had already been done and while the Cat Witcher was lucky enough for both of his broken legs to heal properly, the same couldn't be said about his left arm or eye. In the passing day he lost both. Over his many years of travel the bard had to witness countless heartbreaking fates, but watching Aiden wake up only to realize what gruesome things had been done to him would stick with Jaskier for a long time. Aiden, like any witcher, was saved by his astonishingly strength and tough heart. His humor helped a lot too, as Jaskier was quick to learn.

Spending a fortnight hidden away in the forests had given them enough time to get to know and befriend each other. So when a troop of nilfgaardian soldiers found their camp, splitting up wasn't on the table anymore. Now Jaskier was stuck with a new travel companion and around a hundred horrible jokes on his mind about how Aiden was all-right, even if there was hardly anything left of him.

“No need to worry, sunshine, you forgot that I've been following Geralt around for around a century or so, I know my outdoor survival.” The bard chimed in, trying to lighten the mood again. Instead he watched how Aiden's right eye tightened. “Yeah, about that-” the witcher started, but was promptly cut off by him again. “Figuratively! Of course I meant it felt like a century. I was exaggerating, I'm a bard!” The deadpan look Aiden gave him was more than telling.

“Anyways! I think we really should get going. We've been pretty lucky so far, so I guess it's probably only a matter of time before someone comes looking for us.” The bard said, looking out the window of their small room to make sure that his fears hadn't become reality yet. “Need a helping hand?” he asked and watched with amusement as Aiden's face turned from disbelieve to being outright scandalized. “Fuck off!” He laughed and flipped Jaskier the bird, before finally getting out of bed. “You are going to end up in hell, bard,” the Cat Witcher tsked at him and went to collect his clothes from a stool nearby. “Oh shush, don't even pretend we don't share the same humor, pussycat.”

“Never said I was going to to meet Melitele either.”

“Ugh, sunshine, you're so dramatic!” Jaskier sighed, well aware of the irony behind his words. He watched, out the corner of his eyes, how Aiden slipped into his shirt, pants and coat. He struggled to secure the green sash around his waist that was supposed to keep his pants up like a belt. Aiden fought for a moment before managing to tighten the knot by holding part of the sash down with his elbow. Jaskier quietly thanked the gods for the small success and shouldered his pack and lute, checking the room twice for things he might have forgotten, while Aiden put on his boots and silver sword. He knew the Cat knew that he was watching like a hawk, but neither of them braced the topic of Jaskier's over-protectiveness.

Aiden was about to shoulder his sea sack when the two men were stopped mid-movement by loud voices coming from outside. Their eyes met and Aiden, closest to the open window, dropped to the floor just as quickly as Jaskier pressed himself against the far back wall of their room. Jerking his head towards the window he silently but sternly told Aiden to check out the commotion. After all he was the witcher, not Jaskier.

Aiden made a face at the bard that could we equally translated as 'Duh.' or 'Fuck you.' but dutifully inched closer to the window and listened. Not a moment later the witcher's pupil thinned into a predatory slit that fixated on Jaskier in a way that unmistakably meant trouble for them. “Redania,” Aiden mouthed without making a sound and then proceeded to make his way towards Jaskier, crawling on all... threes, in a way that he would've found hilarious if it weren't for their dire situation. “Soldiers,” Aiden whispered once he had reached the bard, “looking for a bard and his witcher in the name of the crown. They probably think I'm Geralt.”

“Fuck,” Jaskier cursed underneath his breath, his heart hammering inside his chest as he willed his brain to think of a plan.

“There's a back door!” he suddenly remembered, having seen one of the innkeeper's daughters enter the house through the kitchens. “If we make it downstairs in time, we can escape through the yard.”

Aiden bit his lip. “Too risky. We don't know if any of the soldiers are already inside the house and the courtyard could be closed off. I say we climb through the window in the hallway and down the balcony, then make a run for it. Through the market and straight into the forest.”

“You want to jump off a balcony with two freshly healed legs and then get us separated in a crowd, are you mad!?” Jaskier hissed and slapped his hand against Aiden's shoulder. “There's no way the courtyard is closed off! And even if, we can just climb up and out.”

“Oh, but that's not risky at all. What happens if they surround us?”

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✨🌿🌼✨

How do you pronounce Kaedwen in your head? like Cat-Wen or Kate-Wen? I've always said it like cat-wen, but I started watching the nightmare wolf movie thingy and I'm pretty sure they said kate-wen. and I didn't like it.

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[prettyboykatsuki]

warm-ups | sfw + kunigami + sofa

✭ tags ; implied nsfw at the end, coming home / re-uniting, established relationship, gn!reader 18+ | ✭ wc ; 1.4k (?????)

✭ a/n ; me when the random prompt generator gives me a random prompt and i have no clue how to execute on it. never written him before ever so Sorry

Kunigami thinks he should get to fight an airline service at least once in his life.

It'd be one thing if this incident was something happened once in a while. National traveling is already a pain in his ass thanks to customs. He's doing it so constantly - he's used to the strain. Waking up early, packing his things neatly, going through a million checks.

If he were a less ethical person, he'd take a page out of other pro's book and just get a jet for himself because frankly he's fucking sick of it.

This is the longest he's been completely out of the country before in his life. He's been gone for around 6 months now, training with the Brazilian National Team. It was a reward experiencing he'll admit, despite kicking his ass nearly everyday. He made good friends and the people were welcoming- someday he'll make plans to go visit with you.

But he's homesick beyond reasonable doubt. He misses his family dog. He misses Japan.

Most of all, Kunigami misses you.

He really considered not leaving because the idea of long distance didn't sit right with him. You (being the unfortunately considerate lover) you are encouraged him to go. He's thankful you support his dreams. You even surprised him with a visit because it fell on his birthday.

Which was thoughtful and he was so glad to see you but not helpful in quelling the ache of your absence.

Kunigami Rensuke loves you habitually. Maybe that's just how he operates (how he has after becoming a wildcard, that persists into his pro-career) but there's something about it that he never fails to act on. No amount of calling or texting has been able to scratch the itch, the need to love you.

You've been dating for the better part of three years and your anniversary is a few months away. Kunigami wants to marry you but he has to make more money first so he's been hustling.

(Not that you care about stuff like that. But as a pro and a man with pride, he's not really comfortable giving you any less)

It's a typical story for a lot of athletes but you were there before all the fame and publicity. You put up with all of it, all of his dedication and all of his frustrated feelings. Soothed him with gentle hands and a warm meal and a house that felt lived in.

To say Kunigami is grateful is understatement of the century. More accurately, Kunigami can't be without you too long. His life feels incomplete if you're not next to him. He's gotten heat for being soft but he doesn't care.

A wild card, a soccer hero - Kunigami has a lot of self-imposed expectations. But you? Not once have you ever made him feel bad about any of it. In a career where nothing is guaranteed, Kunigami is assured by your love. It makes him want to work harder.

You, of course, are nowhere near as clingy as he is. People often joke that you've got him wrapped around your finger. You laugh and disagree but Kunigami knows it to be true. Anything and everything, Kunigami wants to give you the world.

So six months has been a nightmare. Frankly, he never wants to do it again. His mood is infinitely worsened now because of all the delays. You have a tight schedule and you're not going to be able to come see him because of it.

So he's seething a little, despite it all. He really wants to make it someones problem because he misses you just that much. But alas, he already knows he shouldn't. He can practically hear your voice already.

("A day isn't gonna kill you, Rensuke.")

But it really feels like it will. He's moping the whole way home, even as his driver drops him off at his apartment - Kunigami doesn't feel like his life will start again until he sees you.

So, unlocking his door and coming into his abandoned apartment feels unceremonious at best. His first reaction is that something is a little off when he enters.

There's a noise coming from the living room and everything smells good. The house smells like linen, more precisely. His first reaction is that there's someone who broke in.

But upon entering further, traces of you start to appear like magic. Your coat on a hanger in the closet, your shoes on the rack and your house slippers missing. He doesn't want to get his hopes up, so he holds his breath as he walks into the living room.

Like some kind of miracle, Kunigami finds you asleep on his old beat up sofa. Now the new one, but the one he's had since he's first apartment. You're cozy in it too, hidden under a pile of blankets and wearing his stolen clothes.

The T.V. is playing an old comedy movie and there's a glass of water and all your things next to you. He's so happy for a minute, he really doesn't know if he should wake you up. Picking you up and plopping you into bed with him (maybe trap you there for a while) seems best.

But you stir awake before he even has a chance, eyes blinking up at him blearily, muffled under the covers.

"Rensuke?" You say, yawning aloud "That you? Or am I seeing things?"

What does he even do with his feelings?

"Not seeing things. I'm home."

You laugh pleasantly, sitting up rubbing your eyes. Your socks are pulled up to different degrees. Kunigami wants to marry you immediately.

"You're home," You say, happy with it as you open your arms up dramatically - inviting him in "Welcome home,"

It takes every ounce of restraint not to tackle you as he drops his bags on the floor and kneels between your legs to hug you. You're warm and soft, and Kunigami has missed you so much it's inhuman and cruel.

You let him nuzzle into the crook of his neck, palms soothing on the nape of his neck as you rub your cheek against his hair.

"How was the flight?"

"Pretty shit but it doesn't even matter," He says back, pulling away to really look at you "Doesn't matter at all,"

"You missed me that much?" You tease. He laughs out loud.

"Don't do that to me," He says, unable to stop smiling "You know the answer to that. I thought you couldn't come see me?"

"My boss' son is a huge fan of you, would you believe?" You say, yawning a bit as you lean forward to press your forehead to his "So I promised him a signature. He gave me 3 whole days off."

Kunigami laughs.

"Are you serious?"

"So serious. I thought it'd be better to surprise you at home. If I did it in the airport the paparazzi was gonna get pictures of you losing your marbles,"

He laughs at that, cradling your face in his palms.

"Yeah. Pretty sure I woulda tackled you,"

"You would've knocked me unconscious. You're so big,"

"You think I got a little bigger?" He prods. You laugh and Kunigami thinks it's his favorite sound in the world.

"Fishing for compliments five minutes in? Really? You did get bigger, your arms feel good. Very much wanna get crushed in them, so good work?" You say, squeezing his bicep. He grins.

"And the rest of me?"

"Guess I'll find out about your core 'n legs in a bit, huh?"

Kunigami laughs at that, the stupid wiggle of your eyebrows and the warmth of your body. He feels fucking giddy, in a stupid way since he's a grown ass man. But who cares, really? His life is good. He's never been so happy.

You make room on the couch for him and Kunigami hurries to join you - taking his shirt off and leaving him in his briefs before you climb to lay on top of him. You hug his chest.

"I got 20 minutes before I can't hold it in," He replies, his hands around your waist.

"Maybe I should stretch or something."

"I can help you with that," He offers.

You laugh, pressing a kiss to his mouth.

"No you can't, you fiend. Give me 20 minutes of cuddling before you render me useless to walk without assistance,"

He feels blood rush to a place it shouldn't go.

"Might have to cut it to 15,"

You laugh and hit his chest and Kunigami squeezes you even tighter. He loves you more than anything else in the world.

[mqverick]

Walking On Air || chapter 8

Normally, you always had been fond of spending Friday nights in Miramar at the O Club, dancing and drinking carelessly with your friends and boyfriend. That specific night, you wished someone would be drunk enough to stab you with a beer bottle and save you from the dreadful consequences of coming face to face with Pete.

You’d almost confessed your feelings to him, just a couple of hours ago — not even a full day had passed. For a moment, you considered acting by heart and not by mind, giving in to the emotion. You were helplessly hanging on to the thin threads of your remaining patience and loyalty to your very much already existing relationship.

Things were turbulent, but that wasn’t news.

The bar was crowded, just like always, some upbeat music faintly playing in the background as laughs and conversations overshadowed it, pilots reuniting with their girlfriends and wives for a fun night, Goose getting sturdy on the dance floor, lights bright enough to blind half of the world population.

And there he was. Surrounded by a swarm of young women swooning over him, smiling stupidly at the lame jokes he’d made up just for you — had you been his. The setting bothered you, an irritating feeling bubbling up in your stomach as you slouched down on the bar counter, giving your stool a little swirl. You half-heartedly took a sip from your beer, waiting for Tom to finish his rather amusing conversation with Slider and pay some attention to you that could be used to get Maverick off your mind.

The room was filled with people, but all you could see was him. For a short-lived second, your eyes met across the room, a silent talk passing between you, but as you began to gather the courage and make your way over to his table, a blonde woman stepped in, sweeping him onto the dance floor. Your heart sank, but you couldn't look away from the pair, wishing it could be you.

“Ice, wanna dance?” you spoke suddenly, interrupting what Slider was talking about. Tom gave you a sweet smile and excused himself, taking your hand and leading you in the middle of the floor. The music had switched to a soft, slow rhythm, which allowed you to place your chin on Tom’s shoulder while hugging him and moving. Your eyes were undoubtedly fixed on Maverick and that woman, however, the feel of a thousand knives tearing your heartstrings down, as you came across his diamond-bright smile.

His gaze accidentally traveled to you, face dropping the same way it happened with you earlier. You refused to show how weak you were, putting on a façade, even though the glimmer of your pupils spoke in hushed whisper. It always seemed to be that way with him; a compliment here, a tease there, a shared laugh, a shared silence. It was your very own private dance.

“What are you thinking about, sweetheart?” you heard Tom whisper in your ear. You pulled away from the embrace and lovingly looked into his eyes as if you hadn’t been fantasising about the guy whose guts he passionately hated just a hot second ago.

“How about we do some shots, Ice? I want to have fun tonight,” you lied. The shots were in need to forgive and forget. He was hesitant to the suggestion, which you found off-putting and opted for the second best option to get a hangover from. Nick Bradshaw.

You spotted him lazily twirling his index finger around the head of the beer bottle in his hand, looking quite tipsy already. You approached him warmly with a hug and sat down next to him and requested a shot of afterburners, all while trying to erase Maverick from your brain — which was frankly impossible, seeing as he was mostly the reason why you yearned to get more alcohol in your system.

“Celebrating any special occasion, Roger?” Goose questioned after doing a shot, wincing as the drink burned down his throat.

“Your friend,” you replied shortly, entering the sharp liquid in your mouth.

“What’d he do this time?”

You sighed, going in for the second shot. “He’s being a brat, but then again, when isn’t he?”

“Gonna need you to be more specific than just the, Rog, you said it yourself; he’s got no limits to being a tad irresponsible.”

“I think he’s about to screw everyone with flesh and bones at this bar. And for fuck’s sake, how is every woman here attracted to him and him only? There are other men.”

“Ah,” Goose exclaimed knowingly with a smirk. “It’s all clear now. It’s bothering you watching Mav’s charm unleash on the female population.”

“Right,” you scoffed in frustration, embarrassed by how transparent your suppressed jealousy was. Your stomach was in knots, palms sweaty and warm as the booze poured into your brain.

“You know, Maverick really does like you. He’s just got a bad way of showing it,” Goose insisted, trying to ease you back from the drinks, but the rapid movement of your hand grabbing the glasses prevented him from being successful, so instead, he opted to let you keep going. “I’ve told you before and I’m telling you again now; words are his weak spot. He excels in action though, I’ve watched the guy make women swoon just by looking towards their direction. He’s a natural.”

“Your point being?” you rushed him, irritated.

“My point being that even though Maverick is head over heels for you, he still remains a single man, whereas you’ve got Kazansky.”

You glared harshly at Goose, even thought everything he’d just said made perfect sense. Who were you to be mad at a single man for flirting after you’d repeatedly shot him down? Were you expecting him to wait for you forever? The silence from your side betrayed your feelings to Goose, who wasn’t surprised at the slightest. You drunkenly slid off your seat, tripping on the toe box of your high heels and almost falling flat on your face, which you apparently found amusing as you giggled, looking around in the crowd. Your eyes caught him sipping out of a beer bottle in a corner — at last, without a stupid chick invading a bit too much of his personal space for your liking — and you lazily dilly-dallied your feet to his spot, feeling newfound boldness in your body as the previous, uncontrollable consumption of alcohol was put into test.

“Heeey,” you chirped, dragging out the ‘e’, Maverick looked taken aback to see you, but not missing a second to give you one of his very Maverick toothy grins. His fragrance danced around your nostrils, the scent of cheap beer mixing in as your senses tried to process how on earth it was possible for a man to smell so good.

“Are you drunk?” was the first thing that popped out his mouth, making you laugh humourlessly.

“What, no lines today? Wasted them all in those girls that seemed to take quite an interest in you earlier?” Oh, god, it was already getting messed up. You needed to respectfully back out of the conversation or simply run the fuck away.

“What?”

You chuckled, biting your bottom lip as you took him in with your eyes, admiring the white uniform on his frame, ocean eyes glowing under the club lights. His hair was slightly ruffled — you prayed not from a shag — and all you wanted to do was drag him in the restroom, jump on the counter and wrap your legs around his waist, to get to see what the fuss was all about.

“Are you avoiding me today, Pete?”

You didn’t mean for the question to come out so sensual.

“You have been drinking, then.”

Truth was, he had in fact been avoiding you, though. It killed him watching you distance yourself from him every time you formed a deeper connection and it was certain that with the help of booze and the whole bar vibe, something similar would occur again — and the just couldn’t bring himself to have you slip right through his fingers for once more. So he tried to stay away, just for that night, save some pain.

Your heart started to hammer against your ribcage as you took a step closer to him, noticing his Adam’s Apple bob. It dazzled you how insanely attractive his body’s responses were.

You lifted your stare up on his eyes once more, getting lost in them as you bit the inside of your cheek, holding back the urge to gently place your hand against his cheek, curious as to how soft it’d feel. He must had noticed that you’d been eyeing him up instead of talking to him, brow slightly cocking as he shifted just a tad with a suggestive smirk on his face.

“What?” he asked again, looking down at himself.

“Noth’n,” you mumbled, blushing and hoping the lighting wouldn’t give it away. “Having fun?”

“Now that you’re here, yeah.”

You chuckled ironically, shaking your head in disbelief at how incredibly, stupidly cheesy he was, as if he hadn’t been shooting the same lines with someone else earlier (you could bet it was the blonde with the blue eyes — you knew it).

“Goose says you like me.” You watched him tense at your choice of statement — only momentarily though — returning to his beloved cocky persona in a matter of seconds as he nodded with a grin. His face dropped when you mouthed that you disagreed with his RIO’s point of view. “I just don’t really believe him, you know? I don’t think you go around flirting with other women when your mind is supposedly set on one person.”

Maverick sighed, hands coming up on his sides.

“That’s not fair, Roger.”

“Oh, it’s not? My bad,” you giggled, running a hand through your hair as you furrowed your eyebrows in consideration. “You want to know what’s not fair, Pete? Not fair is being unable to bare the night without alcohol because someone decided they want to get laid by a random bimbo. Not fair is having to constantly doubt whether you actually fucking like me or just want to get into my pants. Is that it, Pete? Do you want a blowjob? Go for a quickie in the broom closet, perhaps? Will that get some steam out of your system?” You didn’t really understand when the wasted in you transformed into livid hammered, but it felt as if someone had cut your breaks, kept you yapping on and on. “It’s not fucking fair of you to just swoop in my perfectly functional relationship and blow it to shit.”

It wasn’t all Maverick’s fault, though. After all, it did take two people to fall in love. You could’ve just shut him off, pay no attention to him, had he not caught your eye even since day one, with all the characteristics about him that made him Maverick and not Pete Mitchell. You were falling so hard and quickly in love with him that it consumed you, had you in a whirlwind.

When you gathered the courage to quit daydreaming and focus on his reaction, you realized he looked a mix of hurt and mad.

“You know, you can’t just decide how I get to feel about you.”

“Yeah? Then how do you feel about me, since it’s so much more than sex? Prove me the fuck wrong, Pete Mitchell, show me!” you urged, pretty sure loudly enough to earn a few stares from the people close to the two of you.

“I can’t fucking do that, you have a boyfriend!”

“When have you ever legged it because of that?”

“Since you permanently became the only fucking thing I can ever think about!”

You’d lost the plot; mind foggy, incapable of making the right choices, whether that referenced to words or actions. Due to the dizziness, you took a second to process the fact that Maverick had just come a step closer to silently yelling to you he was as much bonkers about you as you were for him. Very irrationally and without considering it too much, you glared at him, eyes burning through his scalp, muscles tightened, setting your jaw as you raised your hands, causing the pilot before you to flinch in dread of getting slapped, but instead firmly cupped his cheeks and pulled him in, feeling his hot breath in puffs against your very welcoming lips. You were almost there; about to finally kiss him, but pulled back with force rather abruptly.

His eyes were closed from being so caught up in the idea of getting to taste a cocktail of the alcoholic beverages you’d been gobbling all night on your lips — he barely even noticed you’d shoved him away from you and were stomping away once again, fists clenched to your sides without giving him a word. He huffed in disbelief, unaware of how you always managed to do a runner.

You, on the other hand, suddenly made a turn of mind and began batting your eyelashes to a very clueless as to what had happened Tom Kazansky, determined to not let Maverick have it, not again, you were stronger than that. Hilarious, your inner conscience chuckled, as if you weren’t about to fuck it all and let Pete take you senseless on a sodding public bathroom’s counter.

“Shut the fuck up,” you whispered, clenching your eyelids shut. “Fucking shut the fuck up.”

“What’s that?” Tom asked, unable to hear what you’d muttered through the blasting music.

“We should head back home,” you lied with a raised voice, grimacing suggestively. You wished the rest of the night could’ve been like when u and him first started dating; passionate and full of mutual love. Except all you could picture as you seated yourself on top of him, throwing your hair off your shoulders and turning the light switch off to enrich your imagination, as you closed your eyes and let your mind work its magic, was Maverick.

Maverick, Maverick, Maverick.

Maverick and how you’d basically confessed to him. How you’d been just an inch away from devouring his heavenly-looking mouth.

Maverick and how he’d permanently became the only fucking thing you could ever think about, too.

chapter 9

tags:

@holishol

@iheqrtaustin

@cinnamoncaramelapples

[dfroggofarson]

i wrote a oneshot about a hot NPC dilf. its 1600+ words. i'm really proud of myself.

when i was doing this quest, i had to come to the realization that i, in fact, do have some daddy issues. and that i have no idea of their origins, but so be it.

the more daddies for my perverted imagination, the better my day is.

if you haven't done the Golden Slumber world quest so far, i highly recommend it! it's long and sometimes annoying, but man, anything for hot dilfs (and their also hot daughters).

ok, that's all, i'm done simping. requests for other stories are open, as always.

fluff, comfort embedded. no smut for y'all horny ppl. sorry, not this time ;)

enjoy! ^^

A difference between sky and sky.

A night in the desert wasn't a joke to anyone. It was rough, cold and merciless, killing anyone that missed to take care of themselves. Most mobile creatures had already found a shelter as soon as the Sun started to dive into the treshold of the horizont, hiding itself behind the gold of endless dunes. No matter if it were just animals, people, or monsters - survival made everyone behave similarly.

That night wasn't anything different than the previous ones. You and your two companions have been traveling for two days - for the fifth time. You commisioned them yet again to escort you while you collected some redcrest and other materials from the desert for special herbs. And why not just commisson them to bring some, without you having to travel such a long and tiring journey, or just buy what you need from the mercenants? You asked yourself at least a thousand times. For example, when you almost stepped on a giant scorpion-like thing, got hit by an especially massive tumbleweed, tripped on a scarab, and even when you got into a fight and almost lost all of your dignity?

Yes, you asked yourself a lot of times.

But you only trusted yourself when it came to collencting materials. After all, only you knew what exactly you needed.

And... Maybe you just enjoyed traveling with them on a regular basis.

Because every one or two months you came to Aaru village and commissioned them for the very same reason, and there wasn't even a single time they turned you down. It started nearly a year ago, when you had no idea of who to trust and how this region works, but out of sheer luck you bumped into - literally, right to his chest - the perfect people. And ever since you only commissioned them and no one else.

So there were the three of you: a still unexperienced, clumsy alhemist's apprentice, depending too much on their deputees; an always smiling, funny and kind, but at the same time life-threatening girl; and her father, a whole natural force, like a billion-years-old mountain looking like he could even challenge Morax himself with his bare two hands.

Well, a colorful team, might as well to say, you tought to yourself as you were laying in your tent. It was a strange friendship between the three of you. You were almost best friends with Jeht, you could talk and laugh about almost everything. And even tough you never talked much with Jebrael, he had proven that he really did care about you, so you considered him as a dear friend as well.

Despite these dangerous journeys, they were the most awaited people in your whole month.

Minutes passed, then half an hour, and then a whole, and you still could not sleep. Getting bored of trying, you sat up and started to think again. But after another thirty minutes you got bored again, so you decided to do a little stargazing. It might help you fall asleep.

You put on some clothes, and opened the tent. You almost tripped in your own legs as soon as you saw the tall, threatening figure's back infront of you-

Oh, wait. It's just Jebrael. Yeah. He's in your team.

Cool.

After your heartbeat kind of went back to normal, you just stood there, studying the man's silhouette. If the muscles and scars armoring his massive body could tell you their stories, you'd probably listen to them for years long. When he fights, he does not have any spare movements, and the way he swings his weapon with such pure brutallity and unique elegance... This controversiality always left you tremble and speechless at the same time.

You snapped out of your toughts as you approached the man, not having any better idea as soon as you saw him. You were sure he's heard you, but just in case, you stepped on a drained brach to alert him of your presence. He did not turn his head towards you, and didn't say a word when you sat down next to him. You both remained silent for long minutes.

"Aren't you tired?" You asked, breaking the silence. "It's been a long day. You should take a rest, too."

"It's my turn on watch," he replied. "And Jeht is also tired. I'm fine. You should be the one taking a rest."

"But I can't sleep. I just keep thinking about everything."

"Hm," he 'said', still not moving an inch. Sometimes you wondered how a man of such a figure could act so unnoticeable and noiseless.

"For examle, the sky," you pointed at the stars. "All the orbs can be seen from there so much better than from Lyue harbor or Mondstadt. It's probably because of the light pollution, or I don't know."

"I tought you were a scientist?"

"Well... sort of, but this is not my field. I'm more into alchemistry. Or, at least, I'm trying," you laughed nervously, scratching the back of your head in embarassment. "But I'm not that good, no matter how hard I try."

"That's not true," he opposed, slightly turning his head toward you. "The ointment you gave us was really effective."

"Ah, yes. That is the only one I'm proud of," you chuckled. "And the anti-sweat bandages! I see you still use them," you smiled at him, looking at his arm.

"See, these things are useful. Just keep it up."

There was silence again. You stared at the endless black of the sky, toughts racing trough your head like a tumbleweed in the wind.

Somehotw, sitting in silence with him wasn't uncomfortable, like it was with other people. You could collect your toughts and think silently, while feeling perfectly safe.

You wanted to experience it more. Not just every one or two months.

"How much more materials do you need for the following months?" He asked suddenly.

"Well... Hmm... I need a few more redcrest, five scarabs and three more ajilenakh nuts... but I think that's all for now. But I'll think it trough the morning."

"Good. Jeht and I have to head back to the village soon, so we can collect them tomorrow and then start to take our way home," he said casually.

Like it didn't mean that your journey, your only chance to finally have some time for yourself, but be safe and with friends at the same time wasn't about to end in a few hours.

"Oh," you replied. "Okay, no problem."

"And you know, you can commission others to these trips, too. I have some reliable acquintances, so I can recommend you some of them. You don't have to aks us every single time."

Ouch.

You gulped. Did that mean that he wasn't enjoying your company? Definitely, you declared. But he seemed to be okay with it... Is there something wrong with you? Or with anything? Did you do something wrong?

Oh, silly question. Even when establishing the camp, you couldn't help properly, because the tent you tried to make always collapsed as soon as it had the chance, and it was always Jebrael who helped you fix it. You could only make some food, but that wasn't so delicious either, rather flavoured with herbs to make your companions feel better. But that didn't mean they enjoyed it as much as you did...

Were you overreacting again? Yes. But was it logical? Absolutely, for this time.

They were... he was important to you. It did matter what he said. Maybe a little bit too much.

"Right. That's true. I should probably ask someone else, too, you two must be busy as well," you laughed again, but this time much more nervously. "I'm sorry I bother you with this every month. Seriously." You nodded, holding back your tears, trying to find some excuse to leave the scenery as fast as possible. "Oh, can you feel it? It's getting so cold! I'd probably go back and, you know, try to get some rest... Good night, then!"

You quickly jumped up from the log you were sitting in, waving a quick "goodbye", then turned your back on him and walked to your tent.

How could you be so blind... Why would you think that he enjoyed spending time with you? No one enjoyed your company, that's why you didn't have any friends. You were nothing more than an ignorant little pharmacist who had no idea about the dangers and pressures of the world Jebrael lived in. He's porbably had some more important business to take care of, and you had no right to tell him to stay one more day just because-

"The... The stars. What's the difference between Lyue and here?"

You froze, slowly turning your head back to him. His head was facing the sky, hands resting on his knees relaxed.

He looked so peaceful all of a sudden.

You gulped again.

"We- well," you started, playing with your hand in embarassment, "there are so much more lamps in Lyue. It's a harbor, after all, and it's always bathing in light, so you cannot see the night sky so well..."

"Hmm. I haven't seen it in a long time," he whispered.

You turned your head to look at him. You had no idea why he was wearing, or why he had to wear that blindfold. You never asked about it. Once you tried to talk to Jeht, but she just brushed it off with an "I dunno, he never talks about it," and that was all.

Jebrael never talked about himself, not even to his daughter.

But something changed this evening.

He seemed to be more... open. To have a conversation. Even if it was just about the sky.

And he started to open himself for you.

You snapped back to reality, forgetting that you should probably carry on the talk. You made your way back to the log, sitting down next to him where you were just moments ago. It was still warm.

"Do you... want me to tell about it?" You asked silently.

For a moment, he didn't reply. Then he slighly nod.

You smiled.

Well... at least that's something to begin with.

} > -- • -- < {

The next morning, when Jebrael woke up, he found himself under a blanket - and with you leaning onto him, head on his right shoulder. He focused on the sounds surrounding him, but he couldn't hear Jeht's breathing, only yours. But when he moved his left hand, he found a short message.

'Wouldn't want to wake you two up, went to grab some branches. Not gonna be back soon. ;P'

Jebrael let out a small sigh, cautious not to wake you up, and just listened to your peaceful breathing for a few minutes.

And then he cracked a small smile.

That business in the village could wait a few days.

} > -- • -- < {

[mushiewrites]

So you know cuteness aggression, right? When people see a cute thing and immediately want to squeeze it because it’s just so damn cute?

Ok well consider Sapnap doing that but instead of squeezing, he tickles the shit out of whoever he thought was being adorable.

My mind immediately goes to George. He laughs in that special way that’s all chaotic and unfiltered, it makes Sapnap go wild.

One second George is living his best life, being a mild pain in the ass, and the next he’s pinned under Sapnap who is intent on tickling him to pieces. George is all confused and absolutely loosing shit as Sapnap ruthlessly tickles whatever spot he can get his hands on, and Sapnap is just like, “Stfu cutie I’ve got to do this.”

amity <3333 (u sent this ages ago, we talked about this already, but I'm finally answering now)

firstly Im linking this clip of george bc this laugh still has me in a chokehold

okay but picture this

sapnap and george are in the living room on the couch together, just talking about anything and watching tv to pass the time. there's some random sitcom on, they both aren't paying much attention to it, but suddenly there's a joke that makes george laugh

and it's the cutest damn laugh sapnap has ever heard

george turns to talk to sapnap about the joke through his leftover giggles, but he's not listening, he can't, not when george's laugh is still playing in his mind. he feels his fingers twitch and it's over before he even knows it himself

sapnap lunges at george, climbing up his body as george's back is pushed down against the couch cushions. george is screaming, practically wailing as sapnap shoves his hands under his arms and wiggles his fingers like his life depends on it. george is confused, begging, pleading, asking "whahat did i dohoho?!"

but sapnap doesn't stop. he can't!!!!!! not when george is this fucking cute squirming underneath his fingers. sapnap tells him just that, and george protests with a whine. this makes sapnap travel down to his ribs, digging between the bones harshly just to hear george scream his little heart out. he switches between squeezing his sides to knuckling his ribs, to scribbling over his quivering tummy. george is in stitches - he can feel tears on his cheeks and he thinks he might die if sap doesnt stop soon

unfortunately for george, sapnap just can't help himself, and so he continues down his body, rubbing deep circles into george's hip bones to make him buck his hips and break out into hysterics

"sorry, georgie, I'll stop tickling when you stop being so damn cute"