#I don't even care if it ends up in the main tag anymore

[panthera-tigris-venenata]

You'd think that a civilisation that depends on sentient dragons to survive is going to come up with better descriptors & categories for said dragons than „This one's blue 🥹“ and „This one's red and has a funky tail 🥹🥹“

[cece693]

You're Just Jealous of Me

pairing: the salvatore brothers x male reader tags: reader knows he's manipulative and a slut, you just don't care tbh, Elena has an aneurysm from not being the main character, the brothers know they're getting played, you're just that hot/beautiful/perfect for them to give you up, Elena bashing, no incest

"I can't believe you." Elena exclaimed, her eyes growing misty as you were getting ready to head out with Damon on a date. It hadn't even been a week since they broke up (something about her needing stability or some other bullshit) and you didn't care. All that mattered was getting through yet another 'poor me' moment without killing her and making it seem like an accident.

Seriously, what did your sister expect? That Damon was going to stay single for the rest of his days until she made a fucking choice between him and Stefan? Perhaps some of her betrayal stemmed from the fact that Stefan had also rejected her ass and had made it clear he didn't feel anything for her anymore. So now poor Elena had no one while you played with both brothers.

And it wasn't even 'playing' per se if they knew about the whole situation. You could fuck any of them, and they'll be fine with it—a thing you made clear to them when this whole thing started. You liked both brothers, but having to choose just one was unfair—they both had traits that attracted you, and if you couldn't have both, then you'll settle for nothing. Like eager children they agreed. The arrangement was abnormal to others, but for you it worked—you dated both brothers, they still hated each other (entertaining fights arising from their competitiveness on who you liked more, who was 'rocking' your world, etc.) Simple really.

"Save the tears for the pillow, sister. I’m really not in the mood—nor will I ever be—to entertain your pity parties." Pulling on one of Damon’s leather jackets, you smirked. You were a sight to behold—not only would Damon be eager to rip the clothes off you, but half the population would, too.

It was fun stirring the pot, watching Damon bare his teeth at anyone who thought they stood a chance. Jealousy was his kryptonite, and while a part of you hated targeting one of his insecurities, you always reassured him in bed of your devotion, loyalty, and love.

Yes, because at the end of the day, you loved both Salvatore brothers. This wasn't just some passing fantasy, nor was it some revenge scheme against your sister (though you did love tormenting her with the fact that you were dating the two). You were willing to throw away your human life to become a vampire—to spend eternity by their side.

"Why are you doing this to me? What have I ever done to cause this!" Now there was the Elena you knew all too well—the one who constantly placed themselves as the victim, putting blame unto you because who could ever hate a girl who lost her parents?

You let out a humorless laugh, crossing your arms over your chest. “You really want to go there?” you snap, not bothering to hide the derision in your voice. “Fine. For starters, you’ve always made Jeremy and me feel like shit, and the few times you did act like a decent human being were just so you didn’t look like a total bitch.”

“That’s not true!” she protests, anger tightening her features.

“It is, Elena,” you spit back. “When our parents died, you didn’t do a damn thing to help us cope. You were so wrapped up in your own grief, your own fucking melodrama, that you never once checked on Jeremy or me—unless, of course, it was to nag us about how we were coping. When Jeremy started doing drugs, you freaked the fuck out. Not because you cared, but because you were afraid of how it might make you look. God forbid anyone sees that the 'perfect' Elena Gilbert can’t keep her family together or help her brother kick his drug habit.”

She flinches, but you weren't done. Oh, no. You were just beginning to go down the list of why you hated her ass. "Then, when I began to hook up with Damon, you acted like I was the cause of our parents death—no, that's on you because Elena couldn't help herself and got drunk, needing a ride home at midnight. Sleeping with Damon was like I'd personally betray you."

Her cheeks flush crimson. “Well, you did! You—”

“I did what, Elena?” You take a step forward, towering over her. “I moved on? Found something that might actually make me happy? Meanwhile, you’ve been stringing both Damon and Stefan along for God knows how long. You made your choice—you dumped Damon, tried getting back with Stefan, when he told you to fuck off, you tried going back to Damon and he said the same thing. So now you’re standing here, arms crossed, lip trembling, trying to put the blame on me because you lost your backup plan.”

Her lips press into a thin line, eyes brimming with tears. But you’ve seen this act before—she’ll blink prettily, glance away like a wounded animal, and wait for you to console her. Only this time, you won't.

“You are an asshole,” she hisses, eyes narrowed into slits. “He was mine first.”

That makes you laugh, a harsh sound echoing off the hallway walls. “Right...possessive much? People aren’t property, Elena. He’s not a damn handbag you lend out when it suits you. If Damon wants to be with me, that’s his call. And if I want to keep him, that’s mine.”

She trembles, either from anger or heartbreak—you can’t tell, and frankly, you don’t care. “Why would you do this?” she asks again, her voice cracking. “What have I ever done—”

You rolled your eyes so hard you got a slight headache. "Did you even listen to me? I have every reason to hate you, so does Jeremy and the rest of Mystic Falls. Those who continue to stand by you are either stupid or hope they'll get some attention from your desperate ass. I'm done. I’m done letting you guilt-trip me. I’m done tiptoeing around your precious feelings. I’m fucking over it, Elena.”

Just then, Damon appears in the doorway, that trademark smirk on his face. “Ready?” he asks, taking in the tension between you two. His gaze flicks to the tears glistening in her eyes before returning to you. “I’m guessing we’re skipping the family therapy session?”

“Therapy? More like the mandatory guilt trip, which I’ve politely declined.”

Elena’s voice wavers, “Damon, how can you just—”

He cuts her off with a raised hand, posture casual but his eyes dangerously dark. “Stop, Elena. What we had is over. You made that choice before, remember? I’m done letting you waltz in and out of my life whenever it’s convenient for you.” You can practically feel the hatred radiating off her in waves. She’s not used to being shut down, especially not by Damon, the semi-reformed bad boy who once hung on her every word. It must sting. Oh, well. Her loss.

“As much as I loved talking to you, sister, I do believe we're running late. Don't wait up and please, if you're going to continue crying, leave my room. Keep wallowing if you want. Hell, cry yourself a fucking river. Just don’t stain my carpet.” Without another glance at Elena, you brush past Damon, and he steps aside for you to lead. He follows, closing the door behind you both, leaving your sister alone in her silence.

You descend the porch steps and greet the night air with a sigh of relief, reveling in the silence that isn’t tainted by Elena’s incessant whining. Damon slips an arm around your shoulders, guiding you toward his car parked beneath a streetlamp. His touch is warm, confident—like he’s proud of the chaos you’ve left behind.

“She’ll get over it,” he says, glancing at you with one of those trademark smirks that used to make Elena weak at the knees. Now, it just fuels your own sense of dark satisfaction.

“She’d better,” you mutter. “I’m not putting up with her drama anymore. If she wants to play the victim, she can do it alone. I’ve got better things to do.”

Damon’s grin widens. “That’s the spirit. So, where are we headed, anyway? We never actually nailed down the specifics.”

You shrug, placing an arm around his waist and snuggling closer to his side. “Anywhere but here. Got a craving for something stiff—drink or otherwise.” The innuendo doesn’t slip past him. His eyes flash with interest, and you can’t deny that thrill you get from watching Damon Salvatore light up over you instead of your sister.

“Sounds like the Grill for starters,” he suggests with a casual tilt of his head. “They might have a halfway decent bourbon I can drown myself in. As for the ‘otherwise,’ well…” He lets the sentence hang, the possibility of later events sparking arousal for the both of you.

You’re about to respond when you spot Stefan leaning against Damon's Camaro. Typical. Even without super-hearing, you know he’s probably caught every word you exchanged with Elena. Damned vampires. "What are you doing here?" Damon was the first who spoke, hand tightening over your body. As if he was a child preventing his favorite toy to be taken away from him.

"Nothing, really. I was just walking around the neighborhood and saw your car parked. But now that I see you're here with my boyfriend, I guess I have time to join you two at the grill."

"Our boyfriend."

You simply laugh at Stefan’s innocent tone, shaking your head at the absurdity of it all. Just a few minutes ago, you were telling off Elena and storming out of the house. Now you’re pinned between two vampires—both of whom are technically yours, and you are theirs. Welcome to the wonderful, fucked-up world of Mystic Falls.

“‘Our’ boyfriend,” you echo, looking from Stefan to Damon. “Are you two seriously going to argue semantics right now? Pick a damn fight over who saw me first?” A scoff escapes you as you shrug off Damon’s possessive grip just enough to stand on your own. You’re not some chew toy they get to tug-of-war over.

Stefan cocks a brow, his expression cool but laced with a hint of smugness. “I’m not here to fight,” he says, his gaze flicking to Damon. “Just wanted to make sure I wasn’t excluded. Last time I checked, this was a joint arrangement.”

Damon’s jaw clenches. Clearly, he remembers crashing your date with Stefan last week—and how you’d had to smooth over the tension in ways that involved very little clothing and a lot of apologizing on his part. “We’re not excluding you, Saint Stefan. But we do have plans that don’t involve your pensive brooding.”

Stefan straightens, crossing his arms over his chest. “Oh, so your plan is to get drunk at the Grill and then…whatever else…” He waves a hand dismissively, “doesn’t appeal to me?” He tilts his head in mock curiosity. “You sure about that?”

You snort. “Children, please. If you both really wanted to rip each other’s heads off, you’d have done it ages ago. Let’s just go. All this talk is making my head hurt.”

Damon lets out a dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes. “Fine. But if Stefan starts preaching about morality or—God forbid—Elena, I’m leaving him to pay the tab.”

Stefan’s smirk grows. “I’d pick a better conversation starter than Elena, trust me.”

You give an unimpressed half-smile. “Don’t even mention her name. As far as I’m concerned, she doesn’t exist unless she’s blocking my path to a stiff drink.”

That shuts both of them up. They exchange a quick glance—some silent vampire communication or whatever—then Damon jerks his head toward the passenger door. “Shotgun’s yours,” he says to you, ever the gentleman when it comes to seating. To Stefan, he adds begrudgingly, “Guess you can squeeze into the back...or the trunk.”

Stefan’s lip twitches like he’s fighting off a retort, but he says nothing. Instead, he silently moves to the rear door. You can’t help but grin. It’s absurd that they both share you yet still bicker like five-year-olds over the smallest shit. But hey, maybe that’s part of the charm.

Once inside Damon’s Camaro, you sink into the leather seat, adjusting your legs as you feel Stefan’s presence behind you. The tension is thick—crackling with desire, frustration, and that constant competition. You kind of love it. Damon revs the engine, and the car peels away from the curb.

“Any chance we can make this a quick pit stop at the Grill?” you say, your gaze shifting between them. “I need something to eat, maybe a drink or two, but I’m not really in the mood to fraternize with the entire damn town.”

Damon flicks you a sidelong glance. “Someone’s impatient. Looking to skip straight to dessert, sweetheart?”

A grin tugs at your lips. “I’d just rather not get cornered by whichever idiot wants the latest gossip on Elena’s meltdown.”

Stefan leans forward, resting his forearms on the front seats. “We can be in and out in under thirty minutes. Grab some wings, maybe a bourbon—or three—and leave.” He lowers his voice suggestively. “After that, I wouldn’t mind some privacy.”

Damon makes a sound of reluctant agreement. “Deal. But don’t whine when you realize your tolerance is way lower than mine, Brother.”

Stefan just smirks. “Don’t worry about me, Damon. Worry about yourself.”

The quick banter settles into a charged silence as the lights of Mystic Falls blur by. The neon sign of the Grill soon comes into view, and Damon maneuvers into a parking spot with practiced ease.

“Let’s get this over with,” you mutter, pushing the car door open. “I’m not about to waste my entire night entertaining half-drunk townspeople.”

Stepping onto the sidewalk, you can already see a few familiar faces through the window—Caroline, Matt, maybe Tyler. You can’t be bothered to care. The only drama you want tonight is the kind that ends in moans, not tears. And if Elena hasn’t slithered over here yet, you might just get your way.

Damon slides an arm around your waist possessively again, and Stefan eyes the gesture with an annoyance that’s as old as time. You sigh inwardly. No matter how many times you remind them you belong to both, they still can’t help but try to stake their separate claims. Vampire pride, maybe.

As you head inside, the ambient chatter and smell of bar food envelop you. A few heads turn—this is Mystic Falls, after all, and you’re making a very public entrance with both Salvatores. Let them stare. Let them talk.

“Your usual table?” Damon asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” you say. “Let’s just grab a seat and order. I’m fucking starving.”

The three of you slip into a booth. Damon slides in beside you, Stefan on the opposite side. A cute server looks mildly flustered as she hands out menus. You can see her eyes flick between Damon and Stefan, likely recalling the messy history each has with Elena. If she notices you’re with them in a more intimate sense, she doesn’t comment. Probably for the best.

“So,” Damon says, flipping open the menu, “bourbon and wings? Or do we want to start with something stronger?”

Stefan doesn’t bother with the menu. “I’ll have what you’re having,” he says with a forced casualness, drumming his fingers on the table. He’s clearly aware eyes are on you three. You can practically feel the tension rolling off him—like he’s waiting for the next potential disaster.

You roll your eyes at the both of them. “Bourbon’s fine. Then if someone pisses me off, we can move on to whiskey shots until I forget this entire night.”

Damon flashes that trademark smirk. “You, pissed off? Shocking.”

Stefan snorts, finally cracking a faint smile. “I’m sure we’ll manage to avoid any drama.”

A short, barking laugh leaves you. “In this town? With the three of us in the same damn booth? Doubtful.”

But you push aside the building dread. Because at least you’re here on your terms, Elena’s sob story is miles away, and you have both Salvatores at your side—bickering, sure, but ultimately yours. And that realization, twisted as it might be, makes a satisfied grin curl your lips. With a raised brow, you signal the server for your order. Let the vultures talk, let Elena sulk. You’ve got bigger, better things to do tonight—and two vampires to do them with.

“Bring on the bourbon,” you say, leaning back. “I’ve got all fucking night.”

[beardedjoel]

smother - part i: deliverance

dark!joel x f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | kofi

summary: starving. lost. desperate. you find a cabin in the woods, and to your dismay, it's occupied. a plan to have a quick bite of food with an intense, intriguing stranger turns into more than you'd bargained for when he makes you realize everything you've been missing out on. 8.6k words chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI! noncon, nonconsensual touching, dubcon - reader eventually enthusiastically consents but the syndrome is stockholming so its dubcon, reader is a virgin, big juicy age gap (reader is 19, joel is 55) manipulation/lying/gaslighting, slow burn and tension building chapter, joel is kind of a creepy menace ngl a/n: i'm so so very excited to share the first chapter of my new series! (if this flops after how much i got hyped for it i will be logging off forever) the themes in this story are dark so if the tags aren’t for you it’s understandable & just keep scrollin on by! this will end up being nasty and smutty, but only after a wee bit of buildup so don't fear. comments and reblogs are always beyond appreciated!

Save me. Please, anyone…

Another wave of desolate, crying desperation tears through you as you trudge along, tripping yet again - maybe over your own two feet, a root, the very ground you walk on, something. You’re much too hazy and burnt out to even care what you stumbled on as you just press on, press on, press on.

A wave of pain rolls through your stomach again as it burns cavernously empty. You move as a ghost, a shell of yourself now, using passing trees as support. Your hands touch the cold wood reluctantly, a painful little hiss through your teeth as your fingers practically cramp up from the cold. You’d lost your gloves somewhere along the way, days ago now, what feels like a lifetime. You need to stop and rest desperately now, your body close to giving out. Your heart hammers in fear, wondering if you’d even be able to get up again.

A cabin comes into view in the distance, tucked nicely in a clearing of trees. You think your eyes are deceiving you, that you’ve finally succumbed to the madness that comes with such hunger and loneliness, your brain conjuring up images to comfort you. You see smoke coming out of a chimney on the roof, and your heart equally swells and drops at the discovery - it’s not a shelter for you alone, no. Not a lucky discovery, somewhere to lay your head tonight that’s dry and warm without disturbance. Someone already lives here, has a home here, and they might not take too kindly to strangers. If there’s anything you’ve learned in the last few weeks of your own personal hell, it’s to tread carefully. Always.

You keep your footsteps light and quiet, trying to approach with some semblance of caution. Your empty stomach is pushing you along, begging for any scrap of food that might be inside, hopefully offered up to you by the kindness of a stranger. Berries and the occasional rabbit or lucky can of food found were not enough to live off of anymore - you could feel the way your body faded away by the day, losing any bit of strength you’d had in the first place.

You pause, hitching your breath and then barely daring to breathe at all when you get close enough to hear a sound - a low, throaty grunting followed by the crack of wood. Your eyes scan the area as you sneak closer and then land upon him. He’s broad and muscled, you can see that much from back here. Messy, dark hair that curls all around his head and down his neck. When his body turns enough that you see his face a little bit more, you notice he looks older and has dark, piercing eyes. They send a shudder through you, even from afar, only making you feel colder out in this frosty afternoon.

You wrap your coat a little tighter and decide to get closer, assess the situation, see if he seems friendly enough to give you something to eat and send you on your merry way. He swings an ax high up in the air and brings it down swiftly onto a large piece of wood, splitting it before tossing the logs into a pile already full of more firewood. You press your lips together, noticing how strong he is, betting there are well built up muscles underneath that flannel shirt of his. That makes him a threat, a big one, you quickly assess. 

You’re too distracted, not watching your step, when a large branch cracks underneath your boot. You wince and squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, holding perfectly still, your breath coming out in quick, staccato exhales.

“H-hey!” you hear a gruff voice, sounding out of breath. You peek your eyes open slowly to see the man looking in your direction and silently curse yourself. “C’mon out!” he yells, and you see him reach to his waist, hands grazing a shining revolver holstered there.

Your stomach pulls into tight knots and you stand frozen for a few moments. Your brain quickly assesses everything, weighing the options. Running away, with no possibility of eating a single thing is one option, but the likelihood this stranger will shoot you seems high no matter what, so you decide to take your chances.

You put your hands in front of you, palms out, and slowly emerge from behind the trees. You walk gingerly along the crisp, frosty grass, crunching under your feet every step of the way. Your anxious breaths come out in little puffs in front of you as the cold air enters and exits your lungs.

The man falters, his fist closing and then opening again, pulling away from the revolver on his hip a bit. He blinks hard, staring at you in this silent showdown. “W-well shit, you’re just a girl…” he finally says quietly to himself, his posture relaxing a little. You stand perfectly still, choked up now that you’re confronted with the idea of speaking to him, such a large, imposing wall of a man, and those eyes, god, those eyes.

“I’m not gonna hurt you if you don’t give me a reason to, now, girl.” His voice is the tiniest bit softer, and you pick up on his Southern drawl, an accent you’ve heard a few times before. “Do ya need help?” He wipes his forehead with the back of his arm, a gleam of sweat having built up from chopping wood and his large chest still heaving. He takes a step closer to you, and you don’t step back, but feel every muscle coil up tightly as your mind screams at you that this was a mistake, a huge fucking mistake. Your feet tingle, toes flexing and getting ready to run, but you can’t make yourself do it, to take that first step.

Instead, you nod. “I- y-yes…” you say quietly. You’ll never understand why you say it, other than the fact that you’re drawn in by him, by his chestnut hair flecked with gray, his patchy beard that he’s currently scratching. By his build that looks so… safe yet dangerous, but you get the feeling that no, he’d never hurt you. You envision those arms wrapping around you, holding you tightly, shielding you from the world and everything you’ve been through. You never thought much about relationships or boys before - just a few simple and innocent crushes, but it hadn’t been on your radar as such a shy kid and teenager. But this… this was what people talked about - attraction. It nearly stole your breath the closer you got to him, threatening to suck you into what felt like an endless void. 

“Alright,” the man replies, trying to match your quieter demeanor. He glances around, eyes narrowed and scanning the woods beyond you. “You with anyone? Or all alone out here?”

You know why he’s asking, you’ve seen what people can do - sending someone innocent and unimposing out to lay a trap, but you don’t lie when you shake your head. “A-alone. I’m alone, swear, sir.”

His jaw seems to tick, noticeable even from the distance you’re at before he answers you. “Okay, then. C’mon a little closer, I won’t bite, okay?” he says, and he’s so convincing that you do believe him, despite your instincts telling you otherwise. The world is cruel and unrelenting, taking away most of the trust you’ve ever had in humanity the second you place it into anything or anyone. 

You move a little closer, small, gentle steps, and he nods encouragingly. 

“Now there ya go. Look at ya…” he marvels with a click of his tongue, shaking his head once you’re just a few feet away from him. 

He takes in your messy hair, slightly matted from wearing a winter hat on and off the last few weeks and sleeping on the ground. Your clothes have seen better days too, your skin smudged with dirt no matter how many water sources you found to try and rinse off a little bit. Even despite all of that, he gazes at you with a curiosity, with that look of interest that you felt like you’d given him without trying to. It’s quiet for another moment, the both of you sizing each other up, until Joel’s look turns a little more pitiful when you shiver as a sudden gust of wind whips past you, your threadbare coat doing little to protect you from the chill in the air here. You can’t be sure if your shuddering has less to do with the wind and more with the way that this man’s eyes are digging into what feels like your very soul.

“We gotta get you inside, okay? You’re shakin’, and you look like you ain’t had a proper meal in… too long…” He continues to eye you up and down, taking in your weak frame. 

You stay silent for another moment, swallowing hard and then shuddering again. “I - I don’t know…” you breathe out. You might have some sudden, fantastical dream that this man is your savior, but it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be cautious - the mind is a tricky, deceiving thing.

“I ain’t gonna ask again, ain’t gonna beg ya, girl. C’mon,” he says a little more roughly, a hand shooting out quickly and grabbing you by the wrist and tugging. “Just want to get a good meal in you, alright?”

You wince at the grasp on your wrist, the roughness and hardness he’s starting to show you, but you let him pull, starting to move your feet and trail after him. 

“T-thank you…sir,” you murmur quietly, and he swings his head to look back at you, his eyes softening. 

“You’re welcome. Now get inside and get warm. I’ve got a fire goin’.” He lets go of your wrist, trusting you to follow him as his heavy boots clunk up the few steps leading to the front door of his cabin. It’s modest, beautifully constructed, all dark wood around the outside and a small porch. You start to wonder if this man built it himself, or just found it as it is. Your initial impression of him leads you to believe that he does seem like the type to build a whole god damn cabin. He half looks like a lumberjack already in the plaid flannel shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. 

“Found this place ‘bout five years ago,” he says as if he could read your mind while he swings the door open. “Real nice and private, so don’t worry.”

Your eyes narrow slightly at his last comment, but you try to brush it off as you enter inside with him. The warm air hits your body, an immediate balm to your frayed nerves and chilled skin, a slightly smoky smell from the fire hits your nostrils and you immediately hear the crackle and pop of the logs in the little fireplace. The cabin is mainly one big room, a kitchen tucked into the corner right to the left of the door, and the living room beyond that with cozy couches and chairs, even a TV that you doubt is working but find yourself hopeful for some reason. It’s been a long time since you were able to watch a movie, flashing back to childhood memories when you’d lived in a more stable, thriving community that had power. 

Stairs beyond that lead to what you assume are bedrooms or a bathroom, and your eyes curiously take in all the little details and decor - the man’s jackets hanging along the wall near the entrance, his rifle propped next to the door and several different pairs of worn boots. 

You realize you’re just standing right near the doorway, silently looking around in a daze while your new acquaintance has been trying to get your attention. 

“Hey, girl, I’m talkin’ t’ya…” his voice says, the noise fading back into your consciousness.

You shake your head. “S-sorry,” you say quietly, a shy little squeak. “I was just -“

“S’alright. I got some stew goin’, that okay? I mean y’don’t have much of a choice, but I’ll ask anyhow,” he says with a wry chuckle. You simply nod in response. 

“Now go on, put your things down and sit ‘n get comfortable,” he waves towards the general direction of the kitchen table and the couch before turning back to the stove to stir the pot simmering there. You stand, feeling frozen still, panic threatening to climb up through your insides and completely take over. You still don’t feel safe, despite this man offering to warm you and feed you. How could you, you think, when you’ve been running for several weeks, trying to get away from the carnage that became your life. 

He eyes you, unmoving and frightened looking and sighs heavily. “I said,” he says, tension thickening in the air around you, “Sit.”

You clear your throat, desert dry and scratchy, and set your backpack by the door, slowly creeping over to the couch, not wanting to make this mystery man any angrier. You settle yourself down and the cushions feel like heaven, your legs and body achy from the lack of comfort you’ve had for weeks. You try not to show just how good it feels to settle into the soft, plush fabric, letting the cushions mold to your body.

“Good,” Joel coos as he glances at you from the stove. “Now that we’ve got you settled in, you got a name?”

You weakly tell him your name and he shows you the first little smile you’ve seen from him, nodding. “Gotcha. I’m Joel, okay?”

“O-okay.” You push the words out while you watch him stir the pot on the stove. You sit in silence for a few moments, thankful for the time to just catch your breath and think. Just one bowl of stew, and you’ll be out of here. You’ll ask if there’s a community nearby, somewhere that could take you in, then grab that information and run, not bother this man any more than you need to.

Joel walks over, handing you a cup of water that you shamelessly start to gulp down before he goes back and ladles some of the delicious smelling stew into a bowl. The second the scent hits you, your stomach rumbles loudly. Joel cracks a smile as he hears it and continues ladling, a brow quirked. 

“Hungry, huh?” he asks, walking the steaming bowl over to you with a spoon. You gingerly take it from his hands, being careful not to brush your still chilled fingers against his. You swear his eyes flash at you when he notices how avoidant you’re being, but he turns and walks back to the stove, getting himself a bowl as well. Joel settles down into a chair across from the couch where you sit with a weathered groan, just watching you for a few quiet moments. It does everything but put you at ease, your stomach twisting a little. You blow on a spoonful of stew before taking a bite, your mouth an explosion as it waters and takes in the delicious, rich, food. 

“Mmm,” you whine out, unable to help it. Your body wants to lunge forward, lap the stew up until every single drop is in your starved body and you can finally feel a sense of fullness again. You quickly take another spoonful, much too hot, and wince a little as it hits your tongue. 

“Slow on down, girl,” Joel says. “Let’s talk a little and it’ll slow down your eating.”

You just stare, noticing your body is trembling a little bit, and has been since you met Joel outside. You try to take a deep breath to settle your nerves, your legs so tensely pressed together that it's starting to hurt.

“You feelin’ afraid of me, that it?” he asks you, looking a little too self satisfied at the observation as he crosses his arms and leans towards you. His biceps bulge and stretch with the motion and you can’t help but find your eyes drawn to them, the way they pull at the soft flannel of his shirt. You feel your face heat up all the way to your ears and you blink hard, averting your eyes. 

“I- I mean… I don’t know you…” you mutter, trying to sound more confident than you feel.

“I know,” he says, sounding more sympathetic. “Done some bad things in my time, so hell, maybe you should be scared of me. I ain’t a nice guy. But I won’t hurt someone like you, promise ya that.” His words are enough of a reason for you to hightail it out of here the first second you can, but why do you believe them? Why do you believe him?

“How d-do you know I’m not bad too? That I don’t deserve it?” His eyes narrow and his lip twitches into a smirk before he lets out a mocking little chuckle in your direction.

“Oh sweetheart, a man jus’ knows these things. You never hurt even a fly, now have you?” That smirk stays plastered on Joel’s face as he asks and it frustrates you how little of a threat he sees in you, how little fight you have left to give. Yet you can’t find yourself blaming him, you think. If you were facing yourself in his position you’re sure you’d look like as much of a feeble joke as you feel.

You frown, still unable to look him in the eyes for longer than a few seconds, and shake your head. “No… just for hunting…” you admit.

“Alright then. Y’don’t need to act tough in front of me, girl, got it?” Joel concludes, going back to eating his stew.

“Got it,” you respond quietly, letting yourself sink further into the couch as you feel your muscles slowly relaxing.

“Now tell me... what’s this all about? What’s a little young thing like you doin’ out here by herself?”

You bite your lip and sip slowly on another spoonful of stew. “I’m… uh…” you stutter nervously. 

“Spit it out now, there’s nothin’ to be afraid of here, hm?” Joel tries reassuring you, but his words keep coming out so gruffly, doing little to make you feel much better. 

You inhale a deep breath. “Okay…” You swallow. “I was in a… community. I lived there a long time. T-they’re all gone now, I think. We got completely overrun and so I ran.” You sniffle as your nose starts to run from the warmth of the house opposing the cold you’d gotten accustomed to. 

Joel leans forward a bit in his chair, taking a hearty bite of stew, mulling your words over. “Overrun how?” he asks simply, glancing at you, studying your movements, your body language, everything. 

“U-uh, hunters, raiders, whatever they are. Bad.. b-bad people…” You look down at your bowl, not wanting to meet the intensity of his gaze, afraid to fall into his strange, hard warmth. 

“Hm… awful fuckers, ain’t they,” he says, scratching a hand down his beard. “You got away, then?”

You nod and bite inside of your lip, taking another spoonful of stew to keep yourself occupied. “Y-yeah. I ran and ran… just kept… going. They took everything, took over all of our homes…”

Joel sighs, his eyes finally going a little softer. “‘M sorry to hear that, darlin’. You know if anyone is still alive?”

You shrug. “No…”

“Your family? They with ya at this community?”

“Oh.” You shake your head. “No. They… all, uh, passed a long time ago.” Why the hell are you being so open with this stranger? You don’t owe him your story, your secrets, any of it. But you sense the urge to share it, anyhow. Maybe you’re just that desperate for human connection right now. 

“Mm, sorry to hear it again. We all know that feelin’ in a world like this,” he replies thoughtfully. Your eyes widen a bit at the softness he’s showing you right now and you give him a tight lipped smile to show your own sympathy for his losses. 

“You feel up for tellin’ me a little more about the attack? S’okay if it’s too much,” Joel adds on, still studying you with an odd gaze, almost like he’s drinking you in, quenching some thirst he had. His hand twitches, almost as if to reach out to you, but he’s much too far from where he sits right now. 

“I’m not sure if t-there’s much to tell…” you start, but then you find yourself spilling out more details, feeling the freeing sensation of unloading your burdens onto someone else. You tell Joel your community was small but well taken care of, plenty of supplies and food, in an abundant time in its history the last few months. One evening everything changed, when an armed group of mostly men came in, a few women and children in tow, looking absolutely miserable, and they aimed their guns in the air and shot off a few rounds to get everyone’s attention. People came flooding out of their homes, trying to run, only to be tackled or shot down, forced to give up our food and belongings. You tried to hide for as long as you could before slipping out of the home you shared with an older couple who had been taking care of you since you were a teenager, Harry and Josephine. They’d urged you to run, run, run, so you did. Then came your lost days, where you had no clue where you were, when you’d find your next semblance of humanity. Just trying to head west, further and further from the bitter memories you’d now have to leave behind. Barren towns and wilderness passed you over the days, hardly seeing another soul as you hid from infected, spending your nights crying yourself to sleep when you had the energy. 

And now… here you were, sitting on Joel’s couch and eating stew. Unsure of what the hell you’d do next or where you had to go. You had been an orphan for a long time, but this felt deeper, like you were an orphan to the entire world, almost, like you had nothing to even call your own now. 

Joel sits patiently, watching you stumble on words as you tell your story to him, trying not to get too choked up as all the emotions resurface. How empty things had been, how desolate the landscapes to match your faintly beating heart.

He’s leaned fully forward now in his seat, stew somewhat forgotten in his lap as you finish your recounting of the last few weeks. He breathes in and out, a large, heavy sigh that fills the room. It’s still now, fully quiet for a moment. 

“You’re a strong girl for goin’ through all of that, you know that?” he says finally, eyes softer than you’ve seen them yet. 

You just look down, returning to your stew, taking a few bites now that it’s at the perfect temperature. You’ve stopped shaking now, your body warmed up and starting to recognize that you’re getting full. You can’t eat much, your stomach unable to handle more just yet, so you push the stew away, setting it on the coffee table in front of you.

“Yeah…” you say, not really believing it as you glance out the window to watch the late afternoon sun, glaring off the ground outside, light filtering through the trees. 

“You got somewhere to go? After you’re fed and looked over, of course,” Joel asks, his eyebrow shooting up.

You consider lying, just to avoid what you’re afraid he’ll ask you. What you’re afraid you’ll say yes to. You still end up shaking your head silently, clearing your throat. You feel a sting of tears behind your eyes, your whole body going hot with the need to cry, but a deep desire to not show that weakness to him holds you back. You sniffle and blink, studying the knots in the old wood floors.

“Hey,” Joel says, trying to get your attention, to make you show him your vulnerability. “Look at me, c’mon now.” You hear him shift in his seat, a small movement born of irritation as you refuse to do as he says.

You sniffle again and clear your throat, a shake of your head making your hair fall forward, covering and hiding you further. 

“I said look at me.” That stern tone of his is back, sending a shudder through you and fear rippling deep inside your chest. You flick your red rimmed, shining eyes up to his, meeting the dark brown stare, lines permanently etched in between his eyes from all his years of worry.

“Atta girl,” he coos, completely pleasant now. “I got you, okay? You can stay, if ya need. I got food, a home, a warm bed for ya. If you have nowhere else.”

One more blink sends the tears falling down your cheeks, fat and overdue as they slide down your dirty skin, leaving tracks. You sniffle and nod, suddenly feeling a rush of gratitude towards Joel. He may be a stranger, but he fed you, got you warm, and is offering just about the kindest thing he can right now - an invasion on his space, his personal sanctuary, all for a girl he hardly even knows. 

“Y-you’d really do that?” you ask, a little incredulously, like this is a dream you’re about to wake up from any time now. 

He nods, a half smile pulling at the corner of his lips. Satisfaction plastered there now that he’s swayed you in his direction. “I would. Now I don’t wanna hear another word about it. You need to rest, you’ve been through a lot.”

“T-thank you. B-but-”

“Not. Another. Word,” he practically hisses, flashing his eyes angrily before it fizzles out quickly. You can see him practically having to reign in his impulsiveness in the moment. “There ain’t anywhere else to go that’ll keep you as safe as here, I’m tellin’ you that now. You’d be fuckin’ lost out there.” He sits back with his arms crossed now, and you’re worried that you’ve truly upset him now, that unsettling look in his eye glinting again. He wants you to stay… nearly seems to need it. It scares you, yet you feel a tug, a pull, some form of intrigue wanting you to explore that need, understand just what he could see in you.

“I’m s-sorry… I just - you’ve already done a lot for me, and I’d hate to, well, impose, or something,” you say, trying to appease him. It’s mostly true, anyhow, that you do hate to take Joel’s food and time away from him. 

He stands up and silently walks the few steps over to the couch, sitting down next to you, turning himself towards you. It feels like every muscle in your body tenses at his proximity - it makes him seem even bigger the way he takes up his cushion on the couch, body sinking in deeply, his wide shoulders practically a shield to you right now to everything behind him. Something about seeing him up this close is sending you reeling, able to study the lines in his face, his strong, wiry beard streaked with a few gray spots. You flick your eyes over his face, hoping to not be too obvious, but needing to drink him in, learn his features.

“I’m gonna have you listen to me right now, okay? Make sure you’re listenin’ real good, sweetheart.” He pauses for a moment to catch your eye, reaching a hand towards you but resting it right next to your thigh on the couch. “I’m offerin’ somethin’ mighty nice to you, ain’t I? You were ‘bout to die out there, if I’m honest. Much longer and you’d be a goner, I think. Don’t you?”

He’s waiting for a real answer from you, you realize, so you nod, eyes practically unblinking as you hang on his words, a hot coil burning in your stomach as you feel uneasiness eat at you.

“Right.” He sighs quietly. “I’m not tryin’ to be mean, sweetheart. In fact, I care a lot, that’s why I’m tellin’ the truth to ya like this. You ain’t built to be on your own, can see that clear as day. So I’ll have ya stay here and get fed and get your bearings. And I don’t want to hear anymore about it.” 

Of all the things Joel has just said to you, the thing that is stuck in your mind as you turn it over, is the way he’d said he cares. He cares about you. Would that be such a bad thing to be cared for, even if just for a little bit?

You give him a small dip of your head, a shaky smile coming to your lips. “Thank you. I’m uh, grateful.” You’re not sure what else to say, feeling like you’re signing yourself away to something you don’t feel sure about. 

“Ah look at that - a smile,” he says, clearly feeling much more light hearted now that you’ve agreed to accept his help. 

You sit back a little, your muscles finally losing some of their tension and start to eye Joel a little more curiously. “S-so you just live here all by yourself?” you ask, wishing you weren’t still such a stuttering mess. The fact was, this man made you nervous, in a way that you weren’t used to. He scared you, but in a way that it drew you in, a magnetic pull you couldn’t quite explain yet. Something in him commanded respect, reverence, almost, without trying. It was mesmerizing to witness, completely scrambling your mind if you started to think on it too hard. 

“Mhm,” Joel nods languidly, finishing off his stew and then sitting back with a satisfied sigh. He eyes your bowl that’s only half empty and then flicks them back to your face. “Ain’t gonna finish?” he asks, sounding a little irritated before his face softens. “Probably can’t fit much in your little belly right now, huh? Shrunk right up when you didn’t eat much these last few weeks.”

You nod. “I-it was good, I just… I couldn’t finish. It started to hurt…”

His eyes flash with concern. “We’ll take it slow, then,” he says, a little smile creeping onto his face.

You had noticed his avoidance to say much more about himself, so you decide to try your luck and press him again. You clear your throat, trying to turn towards him a little more as well. “You live alone. Don’t you… do you ever talk to other people?”

Joel chuckles, almost condescendingly. “‘Course I do. Town not too far from here - Jackson. I go once and a while to stock up, trade ‘em for some stuff and they’re mighty hospitable to me.”

You nod, trying not to let his snide laugh and tone get to you too much, blinking away the sensitive little tears that threaten to fall again. Joel cocks his head suddenly, seeming to notice. “T-that sounds pretty nice,” you choke out quickly.

“Sorry if I upset ya. Guess you’re right, don’t get enough practice talkin’ to people,” he says a little lighter now, smiling softly again. Joel’s version of a smile seems to only be a soft upturn of his lips, not friendly by nature. It puts you at ease and unease at the same time, that smile of his, but you’d rather see that than the scowl he was sporting at you earlier today. He pats your thigh a few times, showing his apology, and you watch his large hands move on you, noticing they’re scratched and rough. A man’s hands.

“W-wait… Jackson… this town. It’s close by?” you ask, glancing back up at him, the wheels in your head starting to turn. 

Joel’s face falls in an almost dramatic fashion, the lines between his eyes and around his cheeks getting deeper. “Why d’ya ask?” he says, his tone short and frayed sounding, leaning forward again, practically glaring at you from under his eyebrows.

Your own face falls, jaw slack for a moment before it tightens back up. “I just… I want to get out of your hair as quickly as possible, I-I don’t want to be a bother. Could find a new community there, or something…” You feel quiet as a mouse, unsure of how to assert yourself in front of Joel - it feels like there isn’t space for it when you share a room with him.

Joel’s expression becomes more stern. “Didn’t I already tell you, girl, that I’d take care of everythin’?” he spits out, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. You’re visibility tense now, your hands pressing into the cushions of the couch, ready to get up at any moment and bolt. “Y’don’t want to go to a place like that, so big, you’d be lost there, darlin’. Nobody to take care of you…”

He sits back a little, hands falling into his lap and an eyebrow cocked at you. “‘Sides,” he says, glancing out the window for a moment before studying you again. “Too far to go on your own. Can’t have you gettin’ lost in these woods again… look what happened last time, yeah?”

Maybe he’s right. You barely survived these last few weeks without completely losing your mind, and then your life, as he’s been so apt to tell you several times now. Joel… he saved you, and is offering you a place to stay, so the least you could do is be grateful for now. You could always convince him tomorrow, after you’ve had time to think and reset, to take you there, show you the way, and you can see for yourself if it’s a good fit for you or not.

“Y-yeah…” you stutter out, nodding. The look he shoots you has you choking out the next word before you can even think about it. “Yes,” you say more definitively.

“It’s settled then,” he says matter-of-factly, breathing in deeply, his burly chest rising, and then letting it out in a long, slow breath. “You probably wanna get some rest, yeah? I can set up the bed for ya.” Joel says, standing up and grabbing your bowl, taking it to the kitchen along with his empty one. 

“Do y-“ you start, standing up off the couch. 

“Yeah, I got two bedrooms, don’t worry.” His smile grows, liking that he found you predictable enough to know what you were about to ask. Your shoulders sag a little in relief and you give Joel more of a proper smile now, nodding your thanks.

“That would be great, then, yeah. And if it’s not too much…” you voice trails off and you stare at the ground, focusing your eyes on the pattern of the well worn rug underneath your feet. “Maybe a shower, bath, whatever you’ve got.”

Joel turns to face you and then walks back into the living area. He has a calm, serene expression, slightly lit up. “I’ll do ya one better. Get you some clean clothes to wear after that shower, too.”

Nothing in the entire world sounds better than what he’s offering right now.

You hiss loudly as the hot, steaming water hits your leg when you step in. Within moments, you’re basking under it, watching the dirt and dried blood from your various scrapes and scratches swirl down the drain for what feels like ages, finally seeing the water run clear as you lather up the threadbare washcloth Joel had left out for you and scrub yourself down. Every nook, every cranny, your scalp, face, everywhere you could get three times over. You can’t remember the last time you’d felt so clean, even when you’d lived back with your community. You hum happily for a few moments, letting the water soothe you for just a while longer. You hoped Joel could forgive you for taking a little bit of extra hot water today given the circumstances.

Joel hears the water running from downstairs, his fists balling up and relaxing over and over as he sits on his favorite chair, his gaze facing the stairs leading to the spare bedroom and attached bathroom. He feels tense, rolling his neck, continuing to pump his fists open and closed. A feeling in the back of his neck, traveling down his spine and legs that he couldn’t ignore - an urge. He stands up an instant later, not bothering with his well-ignored conscience, and walks upstairs and through the bedroom door with careful steps as he still has on his boots. He presses a hand onto the brass doorknob, turning it slowly, ever so slowly, pushing the door open just an inch, just… enough.

His eyes fall on the shower curtain, a white cloth that perfectly shows your silhouette through it. The valleys and curves of your body move around, arms scrubbing yourself. Joel can smell the evergreen scented soap drifting through the steamy, thick air, watching your body move fluidly as you start to hum quietly to yourself and rinse off.

He wishes he could lie to himself, deny that he felt the blood rush straight to his cock at this little show he was watching. So content, so sweet, so vulnerable right now. Need consumes his every cell - the need to show you just how good you could have it here, to take every bit of you for himself. He grins, a hungry little twitch of his mouth, moving to shut the door when a floorboard creaks under his heavy boot, and he freezes, shuffling out of the way quickly.

You’re humming quietly when you hear it, just a distant sound, but enough to catch your ear. A creak of a floorboard, something you figure isn’t unusual for an old cabin like this, but you feel a shiver run down your spine and rush to turn the water off. You throw the curtain open, water dripping down into your eyes. You quickly rub your fingers over them and glance around the spacious bathroom to find… nothing. You sigh, shaking your head, nearly laughing at the relief you feel. You’re just being paranoid, you chastise yourself as you grab the towel off the hook, squeezing the extra water out of your hair and wrapping it around yourself, snuggling into the simple comfort of a fluffy towel as you dry yourself off. 

Your fingers freeze, running cold when you reach the door, noticing a few inches of space that has the door cracked open. You swore up and down that you’d shut the door behind you, giving you that extra layer of privacy in a stranger's home. It wasn’t possible that… no, you think quickly, shaking your head again. You have to stop being so damn paranoid - your brain is just in survival mode still, looking for threats that aren’t there. 

You step into the bedroom, surveying the heavy wood furniture - an extremely cozy, country feel to the room with large logs comprising the bed frame and a patchwork quilt draped over the top. You peer around, feeling somewhat squirmy at the realization you don’t have any clothing. Joel seemingly came in and took your dirty clothes while you were in the shower, failing to leave you anything clean. It made you feel that strange swirl deep in your stomach again, the one you kept brushing off.

This is a kind man. A kind man, got it? Positive thinking.

You decide to pull it together and head out and down the stairs to the living room. You feel your cheeks heat up, a hot heat creeping all over your body as you feel so exposed, standing in your tiny towel as you descend the stairs. Joel’s eyes follow you down, watching your glowing skin, so fresh and clean, hair dripping errantly, leaving water droplets on the floor in your wake. You see a flash of something a little cloudy and hungry in his gaze before it disappears just as quickly as he showed it. 

He isn’t saying a word, isn’t offering anything, so you swallow down your discomfort and clear your throat a little. “Er… I noticed there weren’t any… clothes… for me…”

Joel sits up a little straighter, putting down the book he’s been looking at. He offers you a smile devoid of much emotion and stands up, his eyes locking on your hips for a few extra seconds. “Shucks, sorry about that, sweetheart. Let’s get you something right now. Got your old clothes ready to be done next time I do the washin’.”

You nod, fighting the urge to chuckle nervously as he walks over and passes you, his arm brushing your damp, bare one before he heads up the stairs. You’re grateful you get to trail him, afraid of just how skimpy this towel is if he’d have insisted on following behind you. You follow him into the other bedroom, his bedroom, and it’s a little more decorated, some books and little wooden carvings on the surfaces, dirty laundry scattered throughout. He opens up a drawer and tugs out a tee shirt, handing it to you, then a pair of gray sweatpants and warm, thick socks. 

“These should fit alright for ya, honey. We’ll get you some more proper fittin’ stuff soon, just gotta have a look around this place. This’ll be nice and warm for ya f’now.” He seems more chipper now, clearly much more talkative than before, and you suppose you don’t mind the change too much. It’s only proving that your paranoia was completely unfounded, just a symptom of your current circumstances. You typically find yourself a pretty trusting person, enough to have gotten you in trouble before, but the events of the last few weeks have broken that for you, leaving you feeling like a shell of who you once were. 

You snap back to reality and take the clothing in your arms, nodding in gratitude. “Thank you. I’ll go, um, change.”

Before you turn, Joel’s voice booms through the air again. “Need anythin’ else to eat? Anythin’ I can get you?” He almost sounds hopeful, like he wants you to need something from him. His eyes linger on your body, leaving you feeling just as naked as if you didn’t have the towel over you at all. 

You shake your head nervously. “Er, if it’s alright with you, I think I just want to rest… A full night’s sleep in a bed sounds like heaven right now.” 

“Let’s get you on off to heaven, then.” He grins, letting you leave the room before trailing after you, waiting outside your door while you change into your clothes. You discover some women’s underwear in the drawers inside of your bedroom, gratefully putting on a clean pair before throwing on everything Joel gave you. It’s comfortable and dry, so you won’t complain about the fit or the style - you’d still be in your dirty, worn down clothes if it weren’t for him. 

You creak the door open to find Joel and thank him again for hosting you, only to see him waiting right outside in the hall. You nearly jump, your face completely giving away your tense surprise.

“Jus’ wanted to make sure you got to bed alright,” he says gently, explaining himself. 

“Oh…” You bite your lip. “I, uh, I think I’m all set. Thank you again, Joel, really, for everything.”

His smile brightens as much as you’ve seen it and his eyes look much kinder as he nods, a dip of his head. His hand reaches forward and takes yours through the frame of the door and squeezes it. You freeze at the sudden touch, his hand so warm and rough, calloused fingertips grazing over the softer skin of your hands. It sends your entire body into a fuzzy flash of heat for just a moment before it dissipates. He squeezes once more, thumb swiping gently over the back of your hand before he releases it. Your lips sit parted in shock, eyes a little wider and hand starting to tremble a little. 

“Anytime,” Joel replies simply, his face falling before he turns to walk away, leaving you standing breathless for several moments before clicking the bedroom door shut behind you. 

You jolt out of your sleep, a gasp of breath catching in your throat and dying out as you go to yell, finding your mouth tightly clasped by a large, warm palm pressing in.

“Shh, shh,” the voice comes, right near your right ear. You shudder involuntarily from the hot breath fanning on such a sensitive spot  and try to yell again, letting it die out as a whimper against the skin pressing on your mouth.

“Shh, it’s alright. I got you,” Joel coos, his voice coming out hoarse. “No yellin’.”

You squirm helplessly against his hold, realizing another arm is draped across your abdomen, holding you in place. Your body exhausts quickly, still half asleep as you feel your struggle die out. Joel’s hand across your mouth loosens slowly, relieving the pressure.

“You were havin’ a nightmare, darlin’. Shh… c’mon now…” His hand that had been against your lips ghosts up to your head, landing in gentle strokes against your hair. You blink a few times, heavy breaths through your nostrils now as you try to steady your mind and body. Your chest struggles against his heavy arm as it heaves, your body fully taut and mind trying to play catch up.

“W-what…” you murmur groggily, laying stiffly as Joel holds your waist, fingers brushing against your curves, pressing you close as his other hand still works tender strokes along your hair.

“Oh, sweetheart, glad I heard you, hm?” he practically whispers, his face nuzzling close to the skin right under your ear. You feel the tickle of his breath and facial fair, prickly and rough against such delicate skin. You squirm gently, trying to signal that everything is too tight, too much, too… confusing. Joel is lost in his own world, absorbed in the softness of the places he begins to touch, hand grazing from your waist to your bare arms, fingertips exploring hungrily under the guise of being caring. 

All he’d needed, alone and laying awake tonight, his body burning and resolve thin, was a simple touch. A chance to show you all that you needed, all he could provide for you. Only to help you, to take care of someone who couldn’t care for herself. You’d proved that much to him - you needed his guidance, his protection, his experience.

“What’re you…”

“Jus’ comforting you, darlin’. C’mon now,” he whispers, never once pulling back or stopping the exploring he’s doing with his hands. 

He runs through his list of reasons to convince himself why everything he’s doing is perfectly necessary before losing sight of all of it entirely when he strikes that sliver of bare skin where your tee shirt has hiked up a bit off your waist, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb. His hand travels a bit higher, pushing the shirt up and grazing famished fingers across your ribcage and stomach. A small groan ripples across his chest, the vibration felt by where your body meets his. He surprises you next by tugging your shirt back down, covering the bare skin before returning his hand to your hip, pulling you closer. He’s a wall of pure mass, muscle underneath his soft belly and chest, a man who’s strong but still showing a bit of his age. You nearly whimper and shake, feeling a sickly heat coursing through your veins now.

“Mmm…” he mumbles in your ear, your own voice caught in a trap of fear lodged right in your throat. Equally afraid of the way you don’t know how this night is about to end and that you’re not sure you mind where it’s going. You’ve never understood men or their intentions, and never had anyone bother to teach you, no worked up teenage boys offer to show you when you were at that age. No, you were left to guess, giggled at by other girls when you couldn’t pick up on their meanings as they discussed their own secret rendezvous. This had to be everything they talked about, didn’t it? The way you could feel heat and energy practically pulsating off of Joel’s body, his noises anything but natural sounding as he hummed little groans in your ear.

“Y’just needed someone, sweetheart. Y’need someone to take care of you, don’t you?” he finally says, fingers still running their way across your hair, nails scratching against your scalp. You whimper quietly at the feel of it, how damn good it all feels. You don’t move, don’t speak as he goes on.

“Need a man like me, darlin’, y’do. I can see it - need me to take care of everything…” He mumbles similar sentiments repeatedly in your ear before bringing his lips right to your neck, just letting them graze, the wet but chapped skin of his lips pressing in gently on your pulse point. You try not to gasp, the feeling as pleasing as it is terrifying, finding yourself gripping the sheet tighter to try not to give yourself away, give him any kind of response. 

“Don’t you, honey? Need me to take care of you?” He sounds a little more desperate now, needy for the answer he’s searching for from you.

He’s broken you down to the point you feel tears stinging at your eyes, the long awaited emotional release you’ve needed sitting right there on the precipice, a small crack waiting to fully rupture. You can’t be sure if you nod, just imperceptibly, you think, but Joel’s body language relaxes against you as he leans his entire chest and torso into you even more, giving you a squeeze. You know then that he got his answer, just what he was looking for. You let the tears slip out, rolling down your cheeks, onto the pillow on one side, likely falling right onto Joel’s face or in his hair on the other. He seems to barely notice, just swiping them quickly off your cheeks before resuming his position wrapping himself tightly around you.

“Good, sweetheart… good girl, I got you…” 

You hear his breathing start to even out shortly after, steady rise and fall of his chest against your body, and you realize he’s dozed off. Like he got what he wanted and decided he could rest now. Your entire body relaxes, a careful breath whooshing out that you hadn’t even been aware you were holding in. His hand is still tangled in your hair, other one possessively on your hip, giving you absolutely no room to move. You’re not sure you want to anymore, anyways, never having had such strength covering you, cloaking you from all of the dark, sinister things that the nighttime holds for you.

If you’re going insane, feeling safe with this man who forced his way around your body tonight, then so be it. Why shouldn’t you let yourself feel safe for once? Let yourself feel less of that burden, turn it over to Joel? Your own turning wheel of thoughts starts to scare you, the little voice in the back of your head telling you what you already know and have been trying to ignore. The one little thing that you immediately put your finger on but were too scared afterwards to lift it back up and observe it closer.

You weren’t having a nightmare, no, not at all. You knew when you woke from one, as sure as the god damned sky was blue and the grass was green. It wasn’t a foreign concept to you by any means after what you’d been through in your life. And tonight… tonight hadn’t been one of those nights. 

dividers by @/saradika!

thank you @jupiter-soups and @huffle-punk for always beta-ing my shit and talking inspo with me. love you to the moon and back <3

[leighsartworks216]

Let Me Help You

Zayne x gn!Reader

I just copy/pasted this from my notes bc I am too tired to go through and retype it all 👍

Warnings: hurt/comfort, mentally/emotionally abusive parents, crying, communication, food + cooking, domestic, established relationship

Word Count: 1,019

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You felt awful. Watching Zayne try to rescue dinner. The dinner you were so determined to make for him. You weren't bad at cooking, but (and you'd be the last to admit this) you got in way over your head with the recipe you chose. The amount of multitasking required to make it meant it fell apart before you even turned the stove on. Which meant half of the food was overcooked (not burnt, just... crispy and tough), and the other half was undercooked (which Zayne was trying to deal with now).

You dropped your head onto the kitchen table, hiding in the cover of your arms. You're not sure when you start crying. All you know is you have to keep it tamped down, have to keep it from Zayne, have to pretend you're not. You've already bugged him enough for one night.

Glass makes contact with the wooden table, mixing with the gentle clatter of silverware. You risk peeking out with one eye to see a plate full of the scavenged meal. You didn't have the appetite for it anymore. You go back to your moping.

Zayne's chair slides across the floor, muffled by felt attached to the bottom of the legs. He's sitting just there. It ignites an unfamiliar swarm of fire ants in your body; they crawl and chatter and fester under your skin. You dig your fingers into your arm, preparing for the worst.

"My love," he says softly. When you don't answer, he pulls your hand from your arm. He holds it tenderly, rubbing along your knuckles in a familiar display of his affections. "Talk to me, please."

You inhale shakily. "Are you upset?" you mutter. It's muffled and quiet, but he pieces it together.

"I'm not upset, but I am worried. It's not like you to do something like this."

"It's not like you..." Unfortunately, that is the problem.

You hesitantly lift your head. You don't let him go, but you don't look at him as you wipe the tears from your face. He squeezes your hand a little tighter. "My parents called..." you finally admit.

Zayne had only ever met them once. It was the single most uncomfortable, disquieting experience possible. You'd ended up leaving that dinner party early, but you still couldn't manage to cut them out of your life. They're your parents, they should be kind, loving and understanding - and somehow you trick your brain before every call into thinking they are, up until they open their mouths.

He sighs, frowning. "What did they say?"

"They said that... you do too much around the house after working as hard as you do. That I should be pulling my weight more, be a better partner." You keep going before he can argue against their claims. "They're right, though. I mean, you work so hard at the hospital and then you come home and cook? I should have something ready for you. You should be able to relax right after work, not keep working to take care of me after all that.

"So I thought..." You sigh, rubbing at your sore eyes. "I thought I would make you something. Something proper, not just, like, stuff from the convenience store down the block."

"May I say something?" he asks quietly.

Your chest clenches painfully at every thought of what he could say, but you nod regardless. He squeezes your hand again like a silent thank you.

"Taking care of you is not work to me. It never has been," he starts. He speaks firmly, but not unkindly. He knows why you think that way, knows your parents have spent every minute of their lives cementing that into your head and reinforcing it with every phone call berating you for taking up too much time and space. But it's not true. Never.

He continues, "I enjoy being able to come home from work and spend time in the kitchen with you. I always look forward to it. And even if we order food in, I never mind, because I will be eating it with you. Do you understand?"

You stare down at your joined hands. Their outlines blur into smudged watercolor as tears build back up in your eyes. You wipe them away and nod.

"You are the best partner I could ever hope for."

You watch as he brings your hand to his face. He kisses your palm and gently nuzzles it open with his cheek so you hold his face. He smiles softly at you. It's the first time you've looked at his face since he got home. He was starting to miss it, the way your gaze feels so warm on him.

"I'm sorry," you croak out.

"It's alright," he reassures. "Please talk to me the next time you have doubts like this. While I appreciate the gesture, choose a simple recipe next time."

A laugh bubbles out of you despite yourself. He kisses your hand again. How he missed that smile.

"Okay."

It fades back into a troubled frown a moment later. It's like the sun peeking out on an overcast day, only to be covered up by the next passing cloud.

"I can still do more around the house. I feel like I don't do enough for everything you do for me."

He hums thoughtfully. "Let's make a list of chores. We can divide them between us until it feels balanced. Is there anything else?"

You mindlessly stroke his cheek with your thumb. He leans into it. He can see the thoughts fighting in your head. See the way you fight on both sides in the war of indecision. It seems there is a clear winner, when you finally, finally look him in the eye.

"I think," you start in a nervous, broken whisper, "I need help cutting them off."

"Let me help you," he whispers in return, a plea.

You nod with little hesitation. "Okay."

"Is there anything else?" he asks again.

"Just one more thing.” You glance at the plates of food before you. "Can we get takeout?"

He chuckles softly. "Yes, we can get takeout."

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @deepzombieyouth @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc

[weirdsht]

Volatile - Cale & Child! Reader

a/n: this is based on epic the musical's "the horse and the infant" and "just a man" as requested! I wanted to make this longer and write what happens after reader grew up a bit but i also want the focus to be in Cale's feelings and their reunion :<<<<

tags: male! reader, reincarnated! reader, child/baby! reader, spoilers about Cale's past life, set around the ending of book 1, fluff and angst, platonic relationships, hints of mentally unstable Cale (it's Cale what did you expect), yandere Cale if you squint very hard.

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Requests are open and welcome

Navigation Masterlist

req by: @xjdjfbcuf

Kim Rok Soo does not know many things about life. Despite all those experiences, even with the combination of his ability “record“ and read many books he is not all-knowing. But that’s normal, expected. If there’s one thing the man had learned it’s accepting just how unpredictable life can be.

That's why, whatever life throws at him, he accepts and adapts with ease. It’s not easy, both mentally and physically. But what else can a hopeless man like Kim Rok Soo do? If he cannot adapt, then he dies.

This was why even when the most precious people around him died he moved forward. Represses his emotions so that the people under his care do not experience the same thing. Put others above his wellbeing for he is empathetic and compassionate like that despite the whirlwind of bullshit life has put him through.

But sometimes his efforts aren’t enough.

Kim Rok Soo poured more than blood, sweat, and tears just so you have the same as Choi Jung Soo and Lee Soo Hyuk. As a young child under his care — used to be under their care — Kim Rok Soo doesn’t want to lose you or abandon you. Hence why he tried his damnest just so his team would have a 0% mortality rate.

Not everything goes according to plan though. Kim Rok Soo can have several contingencies, and make plans a to z, but that would never stand a chance when the gears of fate turn against him.

And turn against him they did.

For not long after his brothers you also died.

Your death devastated him. You were so young, so little. He was supposed to protect you, shield you from the cruel and harsh outside world. 

But he failed to do just that.

And so his baby died.

Alone

Scared

Helpless

Just like how he is feeling now, Kim Rok Soo cannot take it upon himself to dwell on his feelings.

Once again the only thing the man named Kim Rok Soo could do was adapt and move on.

Ignore the pain.

Ignore the longing.

Ignore that empty feeling.

Other people are counting on him, he cannot let his flimsy mental state ruin their lives too.

He already ruined theirs, he cannot ruin anymore.

This kind of mentality continued as Cale Henituse. From picking up weapons to picking up bottles of booze. From warding off monsters to avoiding annoying nobles. Cale Henituse adapted seamlessly to this new life he was thrown into without any notice or manuals.

However, there is one thing that bothers him as he goes on his quest to get his slacker life.

When he first woke up in this world there was a small note in his pant pocket and all it said was:

[The heir shall await for the day you relieve it from its fate.]

This kind of thing was never mentioned in the novel. In the first place, Cale Henituse never had a major overarching role. He was just there as a small obstacle course for the main hero, Choi Han.

So what exactly did that note mean?

Why was it in his pocket?

Why did it feel divine?

Is that note for him or the original Cale?

Questions he had no way of answering kept piling up each time he took out the small, yet sturdy piece of paper. Hence why he decided that he has more pressing matters to deal with, like preparing for his slacker life, and that note can wait later. 

True enough the answer unveiled itself when the time was right. And that time was when White Star was finally defeated. 

Cale Henituse should be resting. He wasn’t gravely injured or anything but everyone kept giving him scary glares when he tried to move around too much. Cale knows his weak, but seriously? Just how much of a weakling do the kids imagine him to be?

Usually, he would be more than happy to do nothing. Relish in the short lavish lifestyle of doing nothing but eating, reading, sleeping, and repeating it all over again. But this isn’t his usual situation. Despite the White Star and the Seal God being defeated another annoying thing has popped up.

[The heir awaits at the temple.]

Another note slipped in his pocket. At first, he tried to ignore it, his too tired and weary, surely it could wait for another day?

[You must go now before it becomes a bigger threat.]

Another hour, another note. Cale continues to pretend that it didn’t exist.

[Defeat her while he is not ready yet.]

Okay, that’s it Cale has had enough. His pocket and mind feel too heavy to the point he cannot sleep without those notes haunting him.

Which brings him to his current predicament. Sneaking out at night to go back to that blasted temple to kill whatever heir White Star — or so he assumes — left behind. Throughout Cale’s walk notes kept popping, guiding him where he needed to go.

Finally, after 5 minutes of walking Cale Henituse comes across a closed door where that heir is supposed to be. As he opens the door he readies himself for any possible attack that might come. However, none came. Instead, a lone crib draped by a canopy sits in the middle of the room.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me…”

Cale spoke for the first time that night as he approached the crib.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me..!”

He cursed as he looked at the baby inside the crib.

At just one glance he instinctively knew who that baby was… Cale– no, Kim Rok Soo instinctively knew that this baby was you, or at least a reincarnation of you.

This is not White Star’s baby.

This is his baby.

He cannot kill the baby he already failed to protect once.

“I’m not gonna do it. I’m going to take this baby under my roof.”

Cale spoke with finality, if he were speaking to his people they would know that this decision was absolute. That no amount of convincing can change his mind.

Unfortunately, this unknown god doesn’t seem to be aware of that fact.

[That child is the White Star’s heir. If you don’t end him now he’ll come back to avenge his father.]

“His father that is incapable of loving? His father that he won’t even remember because his a literal baby right now?”

[It does not matter, end this baby now or this baby will end everything you have worked for in the future.]

Cale crumpled that last note, but another one appeared almost immediately. 

[You already have blood smeared on your hands. You cannot avoid smearing more, you can only choose whose.]

“Bullshit.”

The commander spoke as he scooped the baby— his baby, not White Star’s— from his crib. His voice sounded strong and nonchalant, but the tremor in his hands betrayed the facade he was putting on.

Deep inside, despair and agony wash over his entire being. Crashing against his heart like tidal waves that cannot be controlled. Visions of his people dying reel over his head like a broken record desperately begging to be destroyed. 

“I’ll raise him as my own— no he is my own. He doesn’t need to know who the White Star is.”

And yet he is resolute.

[The other gods will make it known how much of a sinner his father is.]

“Try that and see what will happen.”

Cale Henituse is ready to take that risk. More than that he is ready to go against literal gods just to not lose you once again. He cannot take going through that whole ordeal a second time, he doesn’t think he can handle it.

And so he leaves the temple as silently as he entered it. Leaving no trace except for the crumpled notes that littered your crib.

Silence lingered in his temporary room as Cale closed the window after entering through it. Everyone else was asleep— well the assassins probably know he snuck out but trust him enough to not follow him— and the kids decided to leave him alone and sleep in another room as he is still “recovering” according to them.

With only you and the moon accompanying him, the commander silently arranged his bed to be baby-friendly so that you could rest. There are so many logistics and care that go into taking in a baby, but he can think of all of that later. For now, he’ll relish in the fact that he has reunited with his estranged. A supposed miracle sent by the gods, if it wasn’t for the fact that those very beings want you dead.

As Cale settles the both of you on the bed you use your tiny hand to grab onto one of his fingers. It was as if you were aware of your past life and knew just how much he cared for you. His heart swells with pride and love, his feelings are so strong that he cannot help himself but let out a small smile as you squeeze his finger before falling back asleep.

Just like that the two of you fell asleep, unaware of the inevitable chaos your presence is bound to cause in the morning.

“This old man let you sneak out last night because he trusted that you know what you’re doing. But it seems like I overestimated my puppy young master.”

It looks like this is going to be a long morning…

[exuberantocean]

Its not about choosing Gemma or Helly, it's about being recognized as a person dammit!

I know you're all into shipping Mark with Helly or Gemma, but I would like to introduce a non-shippy analysis of this scene:

Mark S. has spent this whole season and half of last season arguing and fighting for his right - and the right of all innies - to be seen as a person. For their fundamental right to exist and to treated fairly. And he just "killed" Ms. Casey. Right here, before his eyes, he's seen Ms. Casey (who he isn't in love with but does care about) turn to Gemma with no real hope of Ms. Casey ever coming back.

Up until this moment, Mark S has been trying to save Ms. Casey. And conflating her with Mark Scout's wife. And here the realization hits him in the face that he's just done the very opposite of everything he was fighting for. He might have saved Mark Scout's wife, but in so doing, he's killed Ms. Casey, soft spoken, kind Ms. Casey, and replaced her with this stranger.

Thematically I think it's very, very important that in between Ms. Casey walking through the door and Gemma fronting, we get this brief scene:

The rise up of the innies against their oppressors. The choice to fight for their personhood and their rights.

Mark S was never going to walk through that door. He loves living far too much to give it up. And he's aghast that he was just used to do that to Ms. Casey. (Not just Ms. Casey, but the what, 25 other alters Gamma's body and mind now hold.)

One thing both Mark alters have in common is how frustratingly easily they're swayed into following the commands of others. Mark Scout possibly due to his depression/addiction, Mark S because Lumon does all it can to brainwash its innies. So when Gemma tells him to come, he makes to motion to, but stops. Because he's learned to ask himself what he wants. And what Mark S wants is to live.

He chooses not to go/to live before Helly shows up.

I'm not saying all this to belittle the relationship between Mark S and Helly. Quite the opposite; the fact that Mark is his own person with his own desires capable of making his own decisions means that his relationship is real in a way that Mark Scout and others don't seem to understand and accept - largely because they do not see Mark S as a person.*

Which...is why I see most of the Mark/Helly vs Mark/Gemma discourse in the tags to frustratingly miss the whole point of the entire series.

Mark S ≠ Mark Scout

They are both entirely different people with entirely different wants, desires, and loves. And they are in love with different people. Mark Scout would have an entirely different, separate relationship with Helly (or Helena) than Mark S. And Mark S will have an entirely different, separate relationship with Gemma than Scout ever will.

Put an other way with another couple, the outie Irving and Burt could never have the same relationship that their innies have/had. Even if they became a romantic couple, they're different people than their innies and thus would have a different relationship.

I see the erasure of personhood in the tags. MarkGemma instead of MarkScoutGemma and MarkHelly instead of MarkSHelly. There is no one Mark, not anymore. That's one of the main points of the show, as far as I can see. Reintegration would kill them both.

Look, I don't know what endgame is for this show, but there's a high likelihood that it'll end with heartbreak for at least one of those two couples. But ever if it does, that doesn't cheapen either of these relationships. One is not more inherently purer or more meaningful or more important than the other. Doing so is like saying your best friend's relationship with their SO is cheap because you feel your relationship with your SO feels pure and meaningful and important to you.

They both matter. And they both exists. Fighting over which one "deserves" to exists ends up feeling like a fight over which Mark "deserves" to exist - which personality should, in the end, win out and be dominant. And that just feels deeply, deeply troubling to me.

*One striking aspect of the show is how often all the outies/non-severed people talk about the innies using the same kind of language that slave owners used to talk about their slaves in the US south. I do not think this is a coincidence.

[lost-and-ephemeral]

Series: In Her Shadow, pt.2 (ft. main trio)

Part 1 | Part 2

Slowly but surely she replaced you in his heart.

Pairing: Xavier x reader, Zayne x reader, Rafayel x reader (seperate)

Tags: angst, hurt no comfort, reader is not MC, breakup

A/N: I recieved a lot of comments and request asking me to continue, so here we are! I've tried my best. Ty everyone, I appreciate every message, even if it would be hard to mention every single one of them in this post. Also, if you want to be tagged in future fics, let me know!

-`♡´- MASTERLIST -`♡´- 

Rafayel

You began to notice that Rafayel was spending less and less time with you, choosing his bodyguard over you.

It wasn't obvious at first, yeah, but as time went on, everything became so noticeable that you couldn't ignore it anymore. Especially when he forgot about your plans with him and didn't even consider apologizing for it.

The smell of someone else's perfume in his studio, the way Rafayel would leave you at home and take her to all the important events because "you probably don't like spending time among journalists and annoying guests." It seems that he didn't even notice the moment when you were completely estranged from each other.

And all your attempts to talk to him about it ended with nothing.

"She's my bodyguard," he'd say. "No wonder I take her everywhere I go. Is there anything wrong with that?"

Yes, a lot of things were wrong.

But he was completely unwilling to notice it, and you were tired of collecting the shards of your broken heart from the floor day after day. Those warm feelings that brought a sense of lightness and happiness in your heart suddenly turned into pure torture.

You had to end it all, even if it'll hurt so much.

When you arrived at his studio this morning, you came face to face with "Ms. Bodyguard" herself. She was just about to leave, and didn't even hesitate to embrace your beloved. Right in front of you.

Maybe you would've exploded from all these negative emotions, if you had any strength left to be mad or to cry. But there was only emptiness in your heart.

You became strangers to each other.

"I'm breaking up with you," you said without any regret and pushed him away as he tried to hug you. "I don't want to be a second choice after your precious bodyguard."

"W-wait, why? What... But I didn't do anything!" he replied confused, apparently not realizing how much he's been hurting you all this time.

"Maybe that's the point. That you'd do anything for her, but not for me."

He looked at you with the same confusion in his eyes, trying to figure out if it was a joke, but you continued before leaving this place forever.

"You were everything to me, Rafayel. But for you, I was just a small episode of your life. I'm tired. You've been spending all your free time with her, like I didn't exist. It'll be better this way. Goodbye."

No matter how long he was calling your name, asking you to stop, to come back and talk with him, you didn't.

Zayne

Loving a cardiac surgeon with his busy schedule is hard.

But it's even harder when he no longer cares about your existence and spends a significant amount of time with his childhood friend.

After Zayne forgot about your reservation at the restaurant, making you feel like you were the last fool in this world, some more time has passed.

Yeah, he apologized. No, he didn't start spending less time with his "friend".

It's hard to count how many evenings you spent alone when he stayed late at work for her or was invited to a "friendly" dinner with her. But it happened often enough so finally your love turned into suffering.

At first you tried to convince yourself that you're too jealous and he's just happy to finally reunite with someone close to him from his youth. You care about your friends too, don't you?

But it only got worse.

All your plans were constantly adjusted to his friend's wishes. She wants to take him to a cafe at the same time you were planning to go to the cinema? "Sorry, love, let's reschedule our date for another day". You've made him his favorite dinner? Too bad, his friend already brought him dinner at work and he's not hungry.

Eventually you started feeling like he stopped enjoying your time together and just continued to exist in the same apartment with you out of habit.

Talking didn't get you anywhere, because Zayne didn't notice how much he was hurting you (or he simply didn't want to notice it) with his actions and only distanced himself from you even more.

At some point you felt like he put an ice wall around himself again.

He stayed late again this evening, completely forgetting his promise to spend time with you. You packed your things with tears in your eyes, ready to say goodbye to life with Zayne once and for all.

And he showed up at the doorstep of his apartment just as you were ready to leave.

"What's going on?" his voice didn't betray a shred of emotion. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to leave you and your lovely friend together so I don't have to be an unwanted addition to your life."

Zayne was taken aback at this statement and was about to say something, but you interrupted him.

"You were the one who brought happiness and comfort into my life. You were the one who made me feel loved and wanted. But now I realize that I wasn't good enough for you. Goodbye."

You walked away and closed the door behind you, leaving him all alone.

Xavier

Before, you without a doubt would've said that your relationship with Xavier was the ultimate dream.

But now it wasn't actually true.

Yes, your beloved still showed care and attention every spare minute he had. Just not to you. It seemed as if his colleague started to occupy his every thought.

During dinner, on a walk, after missions. He was always talking about her, how strong she is, and how lucky he is that she chose him as her partner. His eyes were shining with delight you had never seen before.

You were happy for him, but only until it crossed the line. Only until you started to feel like he was in love with her, not with you.

One day you found yourself completely miserable. Xavier texted you that he would be late because they had "decided to celebrate another successful mission". Except that you were usually the one he shared his joy with. But things have changed.

Even though you were the brightest star in his world, you were inevitably lost behind the glow of the Moon.

You were trying to be better, to be more interesting. Trying to reach an unattainable ideal. But you couldn't. After all, maybe you were never meant to be together if it turned out like this. Maybe you weren't enough for him.

You couldn't remember the last day you didn't cry. Sometimes alone, sometimes locking yourself in the bathroom after another conversation about this "super-strong collegue". But Xavier didn't seem to notice it at all.

"I thought maybe you'd be interested to know what happens during missions," he said when you brought up this painful topic.

And, yes, you were interested. But all you heard was, "She took down that Wanderer so easily, I couldn't take my eyes off her." Or, "she's so good with her weapon, it's amazing."

He distanced himself from you so much that you hardly spent any time together.

He wasn't even home the day you left.

Xavier sent you a message saying he'd be late again. As usual, with her. Even though he promised to have a movie night and you had already prepared everything you needed for it.

Maybe it's even better if you don't see the look in his eyes the moment you tell him you're breaking up with him. You packed your things and left a note on the table, next to the snacks you bought.

"Maybe in another universe I would be worthy of you so you could look at me with the same adoration. I can see that you enjoy spending time with her much more. And we should break up so you don't torment my heart anymore. Goodbye."

You glanced around his apartment one last time before leaving it forever.

♡ tags: @skyowlz @prettytemis @aishasreality @randompersonwhoexist @kreishin @reni502 @moonyzstarz @chin-chii

[zarla-s]

I just read your TF2 bot post and I’m fascinated. It has left me with a few questions though. Why/how were bots a problem for so long? What was the main incentive for botting (is it botting or boting??) Was it just to be an asshole? What’s your favorite baked good? Have a lovely day and don’t worry about answering my questions if you’re not in the mood :]

The bots were a problem for so long because Valve just didn't care, sorry to say. They just let it happen. I'm not sure when they started coming in in force, maybe after the Jungle Inferno update like six years ago? But they just kept pouring in and Valve just ignored it. It's really shameful how bad they let it get, honestly. They just kept putting out community updates like nothing was wrong.

Eventually after a lot of community pressure a year ago (#savetf2) they tweeted saying they were aware of the problem and then nothing happened. Then there was ANOTHER community movement this June (#fixtf2), and THEN at the end of June they ACTUALLY did something, which is why everyone was so shocked and skeptical at the time. Like the bots got so bad, it's hard to get across just how bad it got if you weren't playing at the time. It was bad. To suddenly go from that to totally bot-free was unbelievable. Frankly I'm still shocked they're gone! No one knows why Valve's acting now or how they're doing it (personally, I think they must have been working on these anti-bot measures for a while... maybe even since their initial tweet, but no one knows), but I hope they keep it up. I can finally teach people how to play in peace!

As for why they'd do this, yeah, it's just to be jerks. They just want to make people miserable. They have websites on Neocities you can find under the tf2 tag (I was looking through it for sites to link to my tf2 site) and they state themselves that they just like making people mad. I don't think they actually hate TF2 so much as they love the power rush from destroying something so famous that so many people love. Kind of a power-trip/control thing, with a dose of being desperate for attention. A lot of the more notorious bot hosters had twitters or youtube accounts where they invited people to rage at them uselessly, they loved it. They've also formed communities around botting and trolling people, so they have kind of a social investment in it (although they were quick to turn on each other when they suspected someone was a mole). Some of them sell their bot software or "bot immunity" for money but I think that was just pocket change, I don't think that was a real motivator.

After having free reign for so long, they reacted violently to the community movement in June. They were positive that nothing would happen to them, so they kept doing more and more outrageous things to prove it. They DDoS'd and DMCA'd the site for the petition multiple times, they doxxed and swatted one of the main bot fighters, they impersonated figureheads and posted illegal links to things, like they were really stepping over the line and gloating about it. They were extremely confident and to be fair, who could blame them? Valve's negligence let them get away with it for years. To suddenly have that power taken away from them without warning made them absolutely furious. They're still seething about it right now and plotting ways to get back in, but they haven't found one yet. It's a matter of pride for them at this point I think, that and a childish tantrum about not being able to ruin other people's fun anymore. Them targeting a baby game version of TF2 (TC2) also points to it being a power trip. If they can't ruin TF2 anymore then by god they've got to ruin SOMEthing!

Even now I'm not sure Valve can hold the line and I keep checking TF2 Casual every now and then to look for bots, haha. It's just hard to believe! I greatly enjoy hearing about bot hosters raging about it and suffering though, they deserve nothing less. Die mad about it!!!

In terms of baked goods though I like all kinds, although right now I'm thinking about brownies so I'll say that. |D

[sometimeslwish]

The Ocean Beyond The Sea

I don't have a writer's note for this one... uuhh, reblog to show support? Idk. Anyways, the legendary tag goes for @comatosebunny09

Edit: I lied, I forgot to translate the nickname over here. "Mi vida" is spanish for "my life," it's kind of on par with "my love" or "my heart," I wanted to show how reader is devoted to Rafayel with that specific nickname.

Tags: Rafayel x non mc reader, brief sex scene, mentions of wounds and blood, mention of main character death (don't worry, nothing too deep, just a lore drop) ambiguous ending

Bottom Of The Deep Blue Sea

Take Me Back To Eden

Oh, how great it is to drown.

You smile at him, raising a hand to caress his cheek, touch reverent. He leans into it, nuzzling your palm and closing his eyes.

"My love," you greet, leaning close and nuzzling his nose.

"Mi vida," you whisper against his lips. You can feel his smile against your lips and his happiness pulls at the corners of your mouth too. You end up hiding your face in his neck, taking in his scent.

You lie in bed, limbs tangled along the sheets. It's hard to tell who is where and where you end.

It's perfect.

. . . . .

"Can I worship you," you say against his chest, "please?" You raise your eyes to look up at him. You're between his legs, your hands on his thighs and oh, wouldn't you give him all of you?

His face is flushed and now you know how bigger love can get.

"Please, my love, let me worship you," you beg again, hugging his waist and offering your chest for him to grind into. You're needy, almost just as needy as he is, desperate to show your love, to let him feel it.

. . . . .

You call out his name like a prayer. Amongst moans, pleased sighs, "I love you's" and "I'm yours."

He calls you his mate, his beloved bride, says words in lemurian you faintly recognize the meaning of. Loses himself in you as you loose yourself in him.

. . . . .

You don't shadow him anymore. Instead, you switch places with miss hunter when you have missions to do.

Sylus will greet you with mirth in his eyes and a knowing look. A look you mirror at him when you see him interact with miss hunter.

It took you a while to trust her– a threat to your house in the dark and your home in the sea.

It took her a while to trust you– a phantom with just as much power as the devil.

You're surprised you became friends, but you guess it happens when you have people you care about in common.

. . . . .

You don't heal as fast as Sylus does.

You are human, after all.

You don't bleed as much as one, though. Which you guess is good enough, less blood to clean.

It hurts and you want to go back home.

You push through still.

The reward of seeing his face and hearing his voice will be more than enough.

. . . . .

"My love, I'm okay," you try to soothe, raising an uninjured hand to touch his cheek, "Don't worry yourself sick, I'll survive."

He's not convinced, you can see the turmoil in his eyes.

Your dear heart, always so beautiful and enchanting. You close your eyes and hide your face in the comfort of his neck, leaving a soft his there.

"I'll only die if you wish it so," you whisper, it's a confession.

He tenses under you and you nuzzle into his neck and rub his back with the same uninjured hand.

He protests softly when you wrap both arms around him. When you come out from hiding, you give him a smile and show him your hands. Both completely healed now.

"See? I'm okay."

. . . . .

You pull him into the water.

For once, you trade spots. You enchant and he follows.

The fondness in his eyes makes you feel whole.

You don't know how far from shore you've gone, but you enjoy being in his arms.

It's quiet, under the water. And, even though you don't need him to kiss you for you to breathe– your body already adapted– you still kiss him.

You'll worship him even in death, you're sure of that.

. . . . .

He brings out sides of you that you thought we're dead. Lost to the experiments done on you.

He makes you laugh.

The first time it happens, it's over something ridiculous, so much so, that both of you forget all about it as you laugh.

Your laugh is loud, as opposed to your quiet demeanor.

"It suits you, I like it," he whispers against your cheek.

"You looked so beautiful," he says when he pulls away, and you understand what he means when he grabs a sketch book.

It's the happiest you've ever felt.

. . . . .

You're here again. This time, you're with him.

And miss hunter.

And Sylus.

You're not surprised. A little more, and you'd think you're cut from the same cloth.

You greet him with a nod and a soft smile.

The first of them that isn't faked or forced. It doesn't feel wrong anymore.

Miss hunter comments on your obvious happiness and you tease her with hers.

Rafayel is quick to join, and it's fun to see the men interact.

A sass battle that you, unfortunately, have to break off.

You pull him away with a soft kiss to his ear that makes him splutter and blush, your arm at his waist.

This time, he pulls you along for the tour.

You've already seen the paintings, were there through the process. You're still happy to celebrate him.

You don't gush praise for him, but with the way he looks at you, you can tell he knows you're proud of him.

. . . . .

He fills you with childlike glee.

You always hated the rain.

Getting soaked under it meant being surrounded with water without the promise of getting submerged under it.

Seeing him laugh under it made you love it.

You didn't hesitate to join him in his little game and soon, your giggles accompanied his as you played like little kids.

When you reach home, absolutely soaked to the bone, instead of feeling the usual cold, you swear you feel warmer.

You end that date by bathing together and splashing each other with the water. Love riddled giggles filling the air.

. . . . .

He spoils you and you spoil him.

Clothes, weapons, dates, jewelry. Anything you could want, anything it reminds him of you.

You don't return the favor, calling it that would be an insult. Instead, you reciprocate the love.

Paints, materials, sceneries, foods. You learn how to cook in record time and become his personal chef.

The first time you cook an entire meal for him, all his favorite dishes, he almost cries while eating. You end up caving– not really, you've never wanted to say no to him in the first place– and feeding him the food.

When he designs your tattoo after you mention considering one, getting exactly what you had in mind without even asking, you cry a little when you see it.

He's there to hold your hand and stay by your side when you get it.

He's also there to witness and encourage your impulsive decision to get piercings.

. . . . .

Lemurians live for love.

It's a fact you fully know.

You'll make sure you die for it this time.

[alchemistc]

@a-mel0n's tags on the Helena gifset I reblogged made me take a step back and think for a bit.

I have a metric fuckton of my own issues that play into the way Helena Diaz makes me feel, but trying to look at it as unbiased as I can:

There's a large contingent of people who have IMMENSE derision for a Helicopter Mom, and the way they interpret her actions is just baked in misogyny on top of it. I'm a little scared to look at the tags on that post beyond the ones in my own notifications but I am assuming there's a lot of things in there that would make me go 'yeah but...she's not wrong'.

(If she were my mother we would fight to the death five times a week or I would have ghosted her years ago, but that's a me issue.)

A lot of the dogpiling seems to come from the fact that she's simultaneously dismissive of Eddie and holier-than-thou about the way Eddie parents. And I don't necessarily disagree with those points - there's a very specific reason her tone sticks in my craw and makes me irrationally upset, because it's a very specific behavior that when looked at in pattern is incredibly noticeable and incredibly demeaning.

The scene that tipped me over the edge on Helena isn't even in that gifset - it was when she couldn't be bothered to carry the fucking laptop over to where Chris's friends were singing him HBD, because that tipped the line from "I've been half-raising this child in your absence, this is a pattern of behavior on your part and I'm just trying to keep your son on even ground." to "I do not care about the relationship you have with my your son or the fact that you must be missing him."

In the end, Chris is the one who made the decision to leave, to go live with his grandparents, and they obliged because they love him. Eddie can't and shouldn't fault them for that.

And let's be real. Eddie's a fucking mess. Eddie has BEEN a fucking mess since he knocked up his girlfriend as a teenager and he's never fully recovered from that. He was already expected to be the man of his house BEFORE that, too. He's taken hit after hit after hit but I'm not sure what he's learned from it? That could be a narrative issue but he tends to go with the flow until he can't anymore and then throw live grenades at the issue.

Where I take issue with Helena is the way she just treats Eddie like he should Do Better without actually ever sitting down and having a serious conversation with him. She lectures, she hovers, she makes snide comments, and most of the time she's RIGHT but she doesn't get through to Eddie because her approach is ... atrocious. And she knows it, but she never fucking tries a different way.

And it stinks of Chris being her do-over kid. (Son, specifically, since we don't know anything about her daughters.) She could never bridge the gap and she's disappointed with the way Eddie's life has panned out but this time, this time the kid she's raising appreciates her, listens to her, wants her around, so she keeps holding on to that.

She's not evil, and she's nowhere close to being the worst parent among the 118 mains, but she's a perfect portrayal of the kind of parent who gets away with being cruel because she's just so focused on making sure her grandson's needs are met. She's the kind of parent who will turn a conversation on its head because she feels like she's being unfairly attacked when the conversation wasn't even about her.

I have sympathy for her: her son, the boy who had to be responsible for too much, too early, left her with a new daughter-in-law and a new baby while he fucked off to do what he thought was the right and correct thing to take care of his family. She lived that with her own husband, so I'm sure her priority has been Chris for a LONG time. But just like Eddie (like mother like son) she's done zero learning or growing from the time Eddie's been taking care of Chris on his own.

I think she's fascinating. I want to shake her by the shoulders until she's mildly concussed. I want her to consider that maybe they ALL need fucking therapy. I want her to look at her son and see an adult who is struggling and could use her support and guidance instead of her couched disapproval of anything he does. I would love for her to make a tenth of the effort with Eddie that she does with Chris.

She makes me so mad I wanna scream, but I think the thing that annoys me most is how the show treats her like an obstacle for Eddie to be able to raise his son, when they COULD be trying to figure out how to make it work together.

[auroreliis]

Not sure if you'll even see this LMAO. But I love the way you think, so I wanna know your take on Nightwing/Dick Grayson with an antihero. Someone who's constantly swinging between hero and villainy

I love this idea!

The thing with Dick is that he would be so annoying on this:

"Be careful, you'll hurt yourself!"

"I don't want to fight you. I'm doing this for your own good"

"I didn't want to give back ALL the money you stole, but if you do not stop fighting now, I will return the whole lot of it!"

You often find yourself knocked out and tied to a chair by him. In a safe place, of course, he wouldn't want you to get hurt, but man, those chains are thick...how will you get out? (You don't, he comes and frees you when everything has settled and brings you home...)

After his first encounter with you, he'd get Bruce to find out who you are. And then you're in for it...

He'd casually call you by your real name on your next encounter. The smirk on his face merely widening as you look at him confusedly.

"What the hell do you want?"

"So that IS your name? It has a nice ring to it..."

Your eyebrows furrow as he mumbles your name to himself a few more times like a madman. He didn't even notice you slip away.

The panic ensues as he goes around for a bit, trying to find you. He lost you...completely...what an escape artist you are...

And not only the first few times, you manage to slip away every time he even dares to blink. How sneaky of you. He's impressed truly.

However, he does not tolerate it when youngsters like you, with no training, try to act tough. Whether you're a good guy or a bad guy, he will not allow you to fool around anymore. Haven't you got a life? How do you expect to get sleep if you jump around on roofs every night? How immature of you.

And so starts his nagging.

His first thought is bribery. He'll give you whatever you want, as long as you stop fooling around like this, lest you hurt yourself.

If your main interest is material things, this will work. He will give you whatever you want. Whatever your heart desires. Just keep away from Gotham's moonlit streets. Go to bed, watch a film or something else, just please stay inside.

If your primary interest is more adrenaline than anything else, then he will need to get more creative. He will encourage you to seek entertainment through other means. Video games, escape rooms, laser tag, in fact, he will even encourage you to become a hero instead of being on the borderline.

If this doesn't work, he won't give up, it's just that Bruce finds a few holes in the walls of the manor. And Jason notices Dick being more irritable. And Tim, Steph and Cass notice that he doesn't joke around as much. And Damien notices the serious look on his face.

His attempts usually end with this line:

"Being a hero is extremely exhilerating, so why not choose to be good?" (Or, in other words, why not choose to be closer to me?)

Luckily (for you), you chose to come with him. God knows what would've happened if you hadn't...

[softpascalito]

I To Dig a Grave I Chapter 2 I

Summary: Twenty-one years after the outbreak, you come to Wyoming looking for something and end up in Jackson after a stranger saves your life.

But he doesn't stay a stranger.

Turns out Joel Miller is looking for something too. It feels like a fresh start. But when bad luck seems to follow you, Joel is the only one to turn to, forcing both of you to confront your feelings about your pasts- and each other.

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 7k+ Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Age Difference, Smut, Explicit Content, Grief/Mourning, Mental Health Issues, Canon-Typical Violence, Chose not to use Archive Warnings, Tags to be added

AO3 LINK // Series Masterlist // Playlist

notes: i can't tell you all how i excited i am to get this fic going! thank you for the lovely comments on the first chapter, i promise there is a lot of cool stuff to come!

this fic will deal with heavy topics. please note that it doesn't use archive warnings and tags will be added as we go in order to avoid spoilers. each chapter will have detailed warnings in the end notes on ao3.

Chapter 2 - The Patrol

‘Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story.’  - Richard Silken, The Worm King’s Lullaby

There is a thin sheet of ice covering the streams that are heading downwards. It crunches under the hooves of their horses that dutifully carry them up the hill and past the gas station. Joel is glad that it's Tommy next to him. He's more tense than he's felt in ages, a gnawing feeling in his stomach that has little to do with the skipped breakfast and a lot with the worry that is etched into the frown between his brows. He wouldn't want anyone to see him like this, much less try and calm him down, something he knows is a lost battle.

“They might be fine, Joel,” his younger brother says gently, just loud enough for him to hear. Tommy thinks there will be no response until one comes, a little too late for it to not be premeditated.

“She talked about leaving, sometimes. They would be stupid enough to run off-”

“And leave Jackson?” Tommy raises a brow. “Maria said their house looked normal, all their things still in place. They wouldn't be stupid enough to leave all that behind.”

Joel doesn't want to hear it. He knows, better than anyone. Knows that you wouldn't just leave, not without saying goodbye to the children you'd come to care about so much. Would you leave him without a goodbye?

He almost hopes you would. Because if you didn't leave willingly, what was the alternative? It would've been nearly impossible for someone to take you from inside Jackson with no one noticing. But he can't shake the feeling that something is off.

It’s Tommy who has to keep reminding him to ride slow, to keep an eye on the ground for possible tracks. Joel just wants to go, to spur Old Beardy on until they're galloping up the hill, despite not knowing where it is he needs to go. He just wants to find you. Preferably in one piece, happy and healthy. 

He would’ve missed it.

The small footprints leading off the road and onto a smaller path, one that's twisting through pines and further into the woods. 

Tommy nods. “Pretty sure ‘tis the one that leads to the hunting cabin.”

It only takes a few minutes for them to be sure. The wooden cabin is hidden away behind a few trees, difficult to spot if you don't know where to look. It doesn't really serve any purpose, at least not anymore. The roof at the back caved in years ago, allowing rain and plants alike to enter the dimly lit room. It’s less than five miles from the gate of Jackson, tucked away from the main road.

He can’t help but think that this would be the perfect place to run off to. Or to hide a body.

Joel is off his horse in a second, not even bothering to tie the stallion's halter to the wooden posts in front of the cabin. Without thinking, he tugs his revolver out of his waistband, using his foot to nudge the door open.

He smells it before his eyes even have a chance to adjust to the dim light. The unmistakable stench of blood. And mixed with it, creating an odor that immediately makes him sick to his stomach, the smell of gunpowder in the air.

***

The sun has been slowly rising while you’ve been flipping through the pages, trying to find the volumes you’re looking for. The library of Jackson, though rather small, has been frequented more and more, especially in the winter months when the weather doesn’t always allow activities outside and people resort to what they’ve always known: Books.

The entire place is supposed to be relocated soon, to a small store on main street. But compared to the greenhouses needing repairs and the stables being expanded, books don't seem to be a priority for most of the townsfolk.

“Books can’t feed us or keep us safe,” Maria pointed out when you brought the slow progress up to her. You politely disagree. You feel like you could live off books for the rest of your life.

Still, packing up everything means the old place, a shed tucked away behind the church, is currently a mess. Sagging bookshelves, a leaky roof and too many books for too little space means chaos. One that only few bother to navigate in its current state. You among them.

It was the crack of dawn when you slipped out of the house, deciding to let Lane sleep in while you walked through the still empty streets to the far end of the town, hoping to get the library work out of the way before the first lesson of the day.

Maria is the one that finds you, making your head peek up from between two shelves with a frown. “You changed your mind on those books?”

She gives a small laugh, one that sounds oddly like relief. Then her face becomes stern again, the look she carries much more often. “You two have some explaining to do, do you realize that?”

Now it's your turn to frown. “We two?” She pauses at that, looking around the small room. But there is no one here but you and her and the characters bleeding from the pages.

“Is Lane not with you?”

You shake your head, turning your attention back to the book in your hands. “She has the 8AM class today.” 

“She's not there,” Maria curtly responds. You can tell she's trying to keep her voice steady but there is a hint of anxiety regardless. 

“Then she overslept again,” you half guess-half ask, closing the book again.

“She's not at home either.”

An odd feeling crawls over your body. You can't remember what was in your hands a moment ago, but the question is forgotten in an instant. Maria carefully watches as you step out from between the shelves, her tone still gentle. “I've sent Tommy and Joel out to search. We thought you two snuck out.”

You feel numb as you shake your head. “No, I- I didn't see her this morning. I thought she was still asleep.” You rack your brain for the memories of this morning, of last night, of the last week even. But nothing comes to mind, nothing out of the ordinary.

“I was out late last night, finishing up some paperwork,” you mutter, more to yourself than the woman in front of you, retracing your steps in your mind. “Lane got home before me, I had dinner, we talked about blueberries-”

“Blueberries?” Maria asks, her hand already back on the doorknob. She seems restless and it's that fleeting detail that worries you more than anything. Maria stays in control. Always. 

“Yeah, we- It doesn't matter. I don't know where she is,” you finish lamely, getting up and joining her at the door. But she hasn't moved yet.

“You should stay at home. I'm sure she'll show up again soon and if she comes back to your place, someone should be there.” You nod but your mind is already drifting again. Lane’s been doing fine, good. So have you, really. Maria gently reaches for your shoulder, steering you out of the shed and towards the church, down the street that leads to the center of Jackson. 

You're passing the small graveyard that's protected by brick walls, the stones already withered, pale in contrast to the dark metal fence running along on top. The gate is ajar, but you barely pay it any attention as the information settles in your brain. It takes a few seconds for it to reach your mouth and leave your lips.

“She went out a few times.” 

“Out?” Maria enquires, raising an eyebrow as her attention shifts back to you.

“I thought she'd met someone. Cat and her were pretty close and I figured-” You give a small shrug. It's more than uncomfortable, suddenly, and absurd, that you're discussing Lane's private life so openly, with Maria of all people.

“Don't tell her I said that,” you add quickly. 

Maria nods as you reach the end of the brick wall. “I won't. I'll get back to the city hall and see if there’s any news yet. You go home.”

Your head nods as if on its own accord. Maria has already turned her back towards you when you pipe up. “Maria?” 

She pauses, her back straightening a bit. “Yes?”

“You don't think anything happened to Lane, do you?” 

The older woman shakes her head softly. “No. I'm sure she's fine. Now get home. Maybe she's already there.”

And she hurries off, leaving you at the corner of the street with a trembling body and a heavy feeling in your stomach. For a fleeting moment, you allow your thoughts to wander past the point you've been dreading to consider. What if something has happened? If Lane did sneak out, maybe with Cat, maybe alone, and got into some sort of situation? What if she's hurt?

The sky has turned from pink to a light blue, only a few clouds piling around the mountains on the horizon. You glance down at your hands, shaking ever so slightly. You decide to blame it on the cold. The cold that may be getting to your head as well. Because after a few moments, you turn on your heels, heading for the stables. It's only a few rows of houses until the large wooden wall looms in front of you, blocking out the little sunlight you could get in the morning. The wall that protects you from what lies beyond. Infected and Raiders and maybe, you think, as you slip into the stables, maybe answers.

if you enjoyed the chapter, please consider reblogging/sharing and commenting, every single notif on this fic makes my heart swell with love <3

[officialdaydreamer00]

Flowers of a summer day

in which your significant other finally agreed to go outside with you for an impromptu picnic.

pairing: idia shroud x yuu/reader

contents: short oneshot, this is just angst with a happy ending tbh, idia might be ooc pls don't shoot me (^-^; ), reader is referred to as yuu, gender neutral reader and narrated with you/yours, reader has powers to manipulate plants (mainly flowers) to a certain extent

★ the daydreamer speaks — my entry for @cloudcountry's sweet shroud summer 2024!! this is literally an excuse to stimulate the brainworms hehe. also i was braiding my hair and my brain went "gasp. idea!! :D" and there you have it ^-^

do i tag? yes, i do. my main idia liker: @edith-is-a-cat, others: @identity-theft-101 @ferris-the-wheel @xen-blank @twistwonderlanddevotee @loser-jpg @lemonchuu

remember to reblog if you enjoy my work!!

"Is all of this really necessary?"

A chuckle.

"Well, yes, it is."

Summer was just around the corner.

The sun was shining brightly, accompanied by clouds bracketed to the clear blue sky. Flowers glimmered, blooming under the sunlight like jewels. The summer's breezes picked up their faint yet comforting scents, carrying them to distant lands. It was hot out in the flower field, indeed, but the forest surrounding it and a pond nearby helped cooled the air down. Birds took places hidden in the trees, singing a special harmony only they could do, tying every pieces of details together for a lovely summer day.

... It was also how Idia found himself sitting under a tree looking towards his beloved's flower field, having his hair braided and played with.

"You're killing me with the sun, Yuu-shi..."

You only chuckled at his incessant mutterings under his breath as your hands skilfully wove through his fiery long hair, braiding in flowers you grew with love and magic every now and then as you saw fit.

"But how can I refuse Ortho when he personally asked for my help?"

"That's—... Fair enough..."

He grew quiet as you continued on with your little mission.

If it was several years ago, someone told him that he'd have someone who loved and cared for him for his entirety, he'd malfunction and dismiss it as a cruel joke one would say to him. Until you came into his life, what with the ruckus in the opening ceremony.

He still didn't exactly get why you chose him. Him, of all people.

Every time he looked at you, you always shined, as bright as the sun, and as serene as the moon. Even in the drkest times, after every trouble you faced during your time on campus, you would still shine, as if nothing could diminish the light of your aura.

And he envied you for that.

Compared to you, he was no one special, a strange individual even, and not in a good way. Seven, he would agree if you outright said that to his face. He hope you didn't think of him so low like that, however, since it's not like you befriended him if you thought so, right?

... Right?

Oh, who was he kidding? Would you still be with him if you saw how weird he actually was? Would you get tired of him? Would you leave him one day? He would understand if you do leave him behind one day, but by Seven, would it hurt so much and he would never leave his room again if you—

—The sound of you humming tore through his suffocating thoughts, saving him from sinking even deeper down that rabbit hole.

'Right... No point in dweling into that anymore...' He thought, focusing on the soft hands threading through his hair.

You chose him. You stayed by his side, willingly. And even after everything he did, you forgave him. And you loved him for who he was.

"And... Done! There we go."

He looked so different in the mirror that you carried along, with his fiery hair cascading down his back, and the peonies and violets woven in the intricate braids. A lovely product of your creative mind.

He felt himself smiling, his hair glowing a soft pink shade. It was a comforting thought, knowing he could live with moments like this. For eternity, if you would agree.

Perhaps going outside once in a while wasn't as bad as he thought it was.

[aziraphales-library]

Hello! Do you have any recommendations of fics where Crowley or Aziraphale become disabled but don't go back to abled at the end? I know this is more common in human AUs, but I really like the show's concept of disabled angels/demons and in almost every fic I read with this applied to the main characters it ends with them not disabled anymore as part of the "happy ending" which is a big pet peeve of mine, so if you could recommend ones where this doesn't happen you'd be doing me a solid favor!

Hi! Tags we have that you may be interest in are #crowley has chronic pain, #blind crowley, #autistic aziraphale, and #crowley has ptsd. Here are some non-human au fics with permanent disabilities...

No One Falls On Purpose by ForSnaken (G)

Five times Crowley and Aziraphale laughed off a real problem and one time Crowley let himself be cared for. Inspired by that interview/tumblr post where David Tennant says he couldn't see all that well with the contacts and sunglasses

Of Wasting Stars by Lev (M)

After the apocalypse that wasn't, Aziraphale's new body starts breaking down.

So Sick of Late by EdosianOrchids901 (T)

While caring for a sick Crowley, Aziraphale has a chronic illness flare-up of his own. Can they take care of each other?

How I Care for My Husband by MostWeakHamlets (G)

A.Z Fell Cooking uploads an unusual video. Instead of a new recipe, Mr. Fell shows everyone how he cares for his husband, Anthony, on his worst days. Spring is around the corner, and Aziraphale is ready to see Crowley start to recover from his usual winter complaint. However, a new member of the family comes along, and it doesn't seem to be as smooth of a recovery as Aziraphale had hoped for.

The Quality of Mercy by AlineRusu (G)

"Aziraphale had heard the word before. He knew it was invented during the Fall as punishment for those like Crawly who turned away from the Almighty’s Grace. Even so, he wasn’t sure he understood the concept, but Crawly didn’t need to know that." In which Aziraphale's corporation wasn't put together quite perfectly and he learns to accept himself as he is (with Crowley's help.)

Struggles and Caring by Azicrownumber1fan (NR)

Post the hypothetical events of season 3 Crowley and Aziraphale finally live together in peace. However Aziraphale is struggling heavily with his mental health and a new chronic illness. Crowley does his best to care for him.

- Mod D

[coupsie-daisies]

Kinktober '23: Virginity | Min Yoongi

Pairing: GN!Reader x Min Yoongi

Genre: Smut (minors DO NOT interact), Kinktober 2023

Summary: You finally tell Yoongi, the guy you probably shouldn't be fucking around with, that you're a virgin. Nothing could have prepared you for his reaction.

WC: 2.3k

Warnings: Reader is described having a vulva and breasts, but uses gender neutral pronouns, virginity loss (a dumb construct), unprotected sex, mentions of alcohol consumption, marijuana mention, fingering, Yoongi has a dirty mouth and a bit of a possessive streak, creampie, soft Yoongi

A/N: Here we go, kinktober day 1!! Hopefully yall like it, and forgive me if I fall behind schedule. Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist for my kinktober fics

Tags: @dragonofthenorth0726 // @wooyussy // @burningupp-replies // @bunnypig18 // @decaffedthoughts // @brownieracha // @ferrethyun // @snow-pegasus // @wonuqrtz // @mixling-blog

Main Masterlist

Kinktober '23 Masterlist

This fanfiction is property of @/coupsie-daisies, reposting on any other platform is prohibited

You felt ridiculous underneath Yoongi, the thought clouding your mind as you kissed him, as his hands pushed up your shirt to expose more of your stomach for him to touch. And the worst part was that you felt even more ridiculous for thinking about it so much.

You had been fooling around with Yoongi for a couple of weeks now. You'd met at a party one of your older friends had invited you to, and you knew Yoongi by reputation only. He was a bit of a fuckboy, he'd slept with plenty of people and made quite a name for himself as an 'experience'. It was actually a little terrifying the way people talked about him, like he was something everyone had to experience.

But he'd been kind when you'd met him, introduced by your friend Hoseok with a request to help keep an eye on you. You'd been offended, actually, at the implication that you couldn't look out for yourself. But having Hobi's friends around to keep an eye on you had actually been quite nice, eliminating the need to socialize with strangers and all that. Yoongi had kept a drink in your hand, though sometimes swapping it out for water when he'd decided you should slow down, and eventually you ended up sitting on a couch, sidled up to him as he smoked up with his friends.

The first time you kissed Yoongi he was high, and you were maybe a little more tipsy than you should have been. But it was the start of something great. You and Yoongi were friends, maybe not the closest of friends but he wasn't a stranger. You felt safe with him, and you could go to each other with your needs. Any needs. Which was how you ended up under him now, his fingers rubbing firm, fast circles against your aching clit.

"Yoongi, please," You whined. He smirked, and you cursed him silently because you really did understand why everyone was obsessing over his skills.

"Please what, pretty baby?" He asked, leaning down to kiss your throat, and you huffed.

"Please, wanna cum. That's what you came over for, right? To get me off, help me destress." You were being annoying, you were sure, but you didn't care in the least. You just wanted to get off, and Yoongi had promised to help you relax. But instead he had you winding so tight you thought your muscles would tear.

"Not gonna make you cum on my fingers, baby. You want to be fucked stupid, right? Don't wanna think anymore? Gonna make you all dumb on my cock instead."

His words sent a rush of arousal through you, wetness dripping out to slick onto his fingers. But even so, he stopped, feeling the way you tensed under him. His fingers were slower now, barely giving you anything as he pulled back and gave you a questioning look.

"You don't want that?" He asked. You and him had never gone that far, sticking to dry humping or going down on each other, sometimes he'd slide his fingers into you, but that was different.

"No! I mean, I do! It's just..." You squirmed, blinking away your building anxiety. Yoongi stopped entirely, sitting back to give you space to breathe, but the distance only made you feel naked, much more exposed than you would have liked.

"You know you can tell me. We communicate. I promised to take care of you, I'm still gonna do that." He promised you, and you fought off a small, surprised expression. You hadn't imagined he'd taken it that seriously back then, let alone now.

"I'm a virgin." You said finally, avoiding his eye. There was quiet, and you squirmed before Yoongi was towering over you, his hand gripping your chin to lift your gaze back to him.

"You've been letting me play with you all this time, and you just weren't gonna tell me that?" He asked, his thumb tracing over your lower lip. You could swear his gaze was only getting more intense, and you swallowed.

"It's embarrassing," You admitted. He huffed out a tiny laugh, his eyebrow quirking upwards in the way that always had you going a little bit feral.

"Embarrassing? What about me being able to ruin you for any other man is embarrassing, pretty thing?" He asked. You felt a quiet squeak slip past your lips. You quickly regained your confidence though, not wanting to give him the upper hand.

"So you wouldn't be able to ruin me for anyone else if I'd already slept with another person? Good to know," You teased, lips curling into a troublesome grin. He rolled his eyes, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek. Then his lips were pressed to the sensitive spot just under your ear, his tongue dragging over it before sucking hard. Your body pressed closer towards his, rolling into the warmth that washed over you.

"Oh, baby, I already have." He whispered, his attention trailing further down your neck, leaving tiny bruises that you knew would bloom bright overnight. Your fingers laced through his hair, tugging lightly as a silent plea for him to leave his teasing and move on. He groaned quietly, not seeming to want to wait either.

He sat back, taking a minute to admire you as if he hadn't seen you laying naked beneath him more times than he could count on one hand. You felt a new wave of arousal rush through you under his attention. His hands brushed your stomach, sliding up to cup your tits, thumbs brushing in feather-light touches over your nipples as if he would hurt you if he touched them too firmly. You released a breathy moan, your eyes shutting as you basked in the attention.

"Gonna make you feel so good." He said, quietly enough that it was almost like he was talking to himself, but you knew better with the way his hands lowered down to knead at your thighs, feeling the soft plush flesh under his fingertips before pushing them wider apart.

You were entirely exposed to him, and even though he'd touched you just a little while earlier, this felt so much more intimate. His fingers slid easily through the wetness leaking from your hole, teasing you with slow, careful touches before sliding two into you, scissoring them and curling them carefully. His eyebrows were furrowed as he focused on the slide of his fingers inside your pussy, his tongue poking against his bottom lip. The attention had you hot all over and you squirming which only forced his fingers to prod a little harder against that spot you loved. You keened, his name on the tip of your tongue but coming out instead as a long whine.

"Please, need you. Don't wanna wait anymore. Waited forever." You huffed. He smiled, a genuine, brilliant smile as his thumb flicked over your clit. And then, finally he was pulling his hand away, maneuvering the two of you with gentle touches until he was settled between your legs, the tip of his cock nudging against your folds.

"Say it again," He requested, the head of his aching length running teasing circles around your clit. "Say you need me, tell me how bad."

"Yoongi," You huffed, and he dipped his cock ever so slightly between your swollen pussy lips, laying enough pressure over your entrance to make you choke on your complaints. Any shame or frustration gave way to pure desperation to feel more of him, to be full of him, surrounded by him. "Please, I need you. Need you so bad I could cry, want you to be my first, want you to take me."

Your words made him hiss, his hips pressing carefully forward, nudging his cock into you inch by inch. You tipped your head back against the pillows, your back arching off the bed and pushing you closer to him, needing more of him, needing him closer. One of your hands scrambled to find his waist, pulling him down closer to you. He didn't hesitate to give in, lowering himself until your chests were pressed together, his face tucked into the crook of your neck and his hips continuing their slow, steady roll against yours. It was another few moments before he was fully sheathed in your tight, wet warmth. His weight rested on his forearm beside you, his other hand gripping at your hip, thumb tracing over the curve there.

"Feel so fucking perfect wrapped around me, shit," He grumbled, voice muffled against your skin, but you heard them all the same, your walls fluttering around him as you tried to get used to the feeling of having him inside of you. He was definitely hitting places you'd never felt before, stretching you out more than his fingers ever had and making the fire in the pit of your stomach burn hotter, the flames consuming you and turning your inhibitions to ash.

"I need more. Fuck me, baby, please. Can take it." You begged, your fingers stroking through his hair again. He shifted, the movement pulling him out of you, and you almost sobbed when he rolled his hips back to draw most of the way out before sliding back in with ease. The rolling thrusts of his hips were slow, easy, and you melted into them. You tugged at his hair with one hand, the other dragging your nails against his waist, pulling him impossibly closer until you were breathing him in.

"Can't believe I haven't done this yet." He mumbled, sucking at your shoulder until a pretty little mark was left in his wake. "You're fucking made for me, built for my dick. Never gonna let you go. All mine, gonna take such good care of you."

He was almost as fucked as you were, his breath coming out in pants as his hips sped up. He slid his hand down, pulling your thigh up to wrap around his hips, drilling himself even deeper and groaning when you moaned his name, tightening around him.

"There," You managed to gasp, and Yoongi shifted, giving himself a little more leverage to speed up, fucking against the spot that had made you react so perfectly for him. He wondered under the fog of his mind if you'd ever felt it before, if your fingers could reach it, if you had been waiting for him to find it. Or maybe, he hoped as he reached down to swirl his fingers around your clit, maybe you would only associate it with him. The spot that he hit just right, the spot that he could find with ease.

"Choking me," He hissed out, never easing up. Your legs tightened around his hips, and your walls sucked him in like every pullback of his cock was a loss you couldn't stomach. You were close, he knew that reaction, knew those sounds like the back of his hand and he was determined to feel you cum on his dick. "Go on, pretty, let go for me. I know you're almost there, you can let go."

His words were soft, sweet, washing over your like ocean waves and dragging you down into your orgasm, air ripping from your lungs as you released around him. You trembled, your hips grinding up to meet his desperate movements, and his movement slowed down to ease you through it.

His movements didn't stop even as you came down, and it was hard to say if he was urging you towards a second one or if he was just too transfixed by the feeling of your walls finally wrapping around him like they'd been waiting for him to slide into you.

"Want you to cum too," You said, the hand in his hair moving to guide his lips towards you, pulling him into a kiss. The taste of him on your lips was like a drug, his tongue slipping past your lips to map out your mouth and his teeth dragging against your lip, not hard enough to be considered a bite, but certainly enough for you to know he could. It didn't take anything more than the kiss to push him over the edge, his groan getting lost in the press of your lips, and his hips pressing flush into yours as he spilled into you.

The kiss slowed, still hungry and desperate, but languid now as if he were savoring the moment of you two pressed so close together. Once he was out of breath, he pulled away, nuzzling into your neck and dragging you as close as he possibly could given your position. He rolled you onto your side with him so the two of you were tangled together, his softening cock finally slipping out of you and his leg trapping yours between his own.

"How was it?" He asked after a few moments of stroking his fingertips against your waist. You kept your eyes closed, basking in his attention and letting a smile curl on your lips.

"It was perfect." You said, pressing closer so he couldn't see the way your smile grew.

"Only the best for my darling." He said, tipping your chin up to kiss you again. You smiled against his lips before pulling away a bit. He followed your lips, and you giggled.

"Yours, huh?" You asked, fingertips drumming against his bare chest.

"I want you to be. Always have. Now more than ever.  don't want anyone else to have you like I do." He confessed without hesitation, and the sincerity in his voice genuinely surprised you. Your teasing gaze softened, and you kissed him once more.

"Nobody will. They couldn't even if they wanted to. I'm all yours."

copyright 2023 coupsie-daisies, all rights reserved

[jazzyblusnowflake]

I've got one for ya. What were the first kisses in the N/V/Uzi relationship like. Uzi and N first, Uzi and V's first, and V and N's first.

(Bonus points for V and N's first kiss at the manner for some bittersweet angst)

Also, good golly gumdrops, love your stuff, even if you don't answer this one, still gonna keep enjoying

oh oh i love these kinds of ideas :"D tho it takes a bit of brain power to think of a good scene uhm.... lessee....

Ok so first up, although im still waiting for a canon first kiss for NUzi- since they are a thing now, i still like to think of something separate for my own version- [since obviously the main show isn't going towards a poly dynamic lmao]

See, we all know that the show is fast paced and its hard to find any empty spaces between each event, hell it almost feels like earth was blown apart and the DDs were on copper 9 the next day, Liam we need a fucking timeline order. 🙄 soooooo i personally like to imagine that there's a lot more time between events than is shown in the actual show. like- lets maybe put a few days between Uzi administrating N and V and the arrival of J and Cynessa- like.... maybe lets put a few NIGHTS between that??? what's the freaking rush 😭

But anyway yeah- i would put the first NUzi kiss somewhere around betwenn the camp and the flashback eps probably :p my idea would be that since the camp incidents, Uzi would be having a lot of bodily changes to deal with, one of which being her inability to tolerate the sun much anymore. other things would probably be the growth of literal flesh and blood and bones inside of her and lets make this morbid by adding her throwing up blood but keeping it a secret from everyone :p she may sneak back to the other two at night and stay with them- clearly shaken up- [V probably also being shaken up because on one hand she's terrified of seeing this transformation take place- but at the same time, she clearly cares enough about Uzi AND Ns happiness...] asking for help and advice- and the 3 grow closer during this. They practice with her for flying or controlling her tail- maybe some stuff on her control on oil hunger too. she probably also gets some fighting, sneaking and sparring practice with V-

//insert one of those cheesy moments where V riles up Uzi enough to tag her on the snowy ground but then realizes its the same position she got V in her solver!mode and starts panicking and pushing herself back- V getting back up and asking what the heck was that and Uzi just saying she doesn't want to hurt her and V is an insensitive jerk for making her spar with her in the first place and tries to fly away to calm down-..... which probably just ended with her falling face first in the snow and a lecture from both N and V.

overall they all started subconsciously getting even closer. tbh there's so many things i could add here but i gotta keep it a few NIGHTS not a few MONTHS until the next event 😭

either way during this i guess N and Uzi could have maybe ended up alone at some point- maybe after a flying lesson having gone right and they were a little too happy on top of a building or upturned bus or something lol- i imagine after a hug maybe Uzi asks if she could kiss N but quickly backtracks saying nvm it was stupid or something but N softly says its okay- //probably picks her up too, adding to her embarrassment- cuz she's short lmaooooo// and Uzi just decides to give a small unsure smooch- but decided to make it not too long. they decided to just hug after that to not let the other see them blushing like hell 😭 [also they didn't really decide anything after this cuz they are idiots????😭😭😭]

but anyway for the Vuzi first kiss i have no idea if or when V would return if she's been set to remain alive in the canon- but for me its probably when she appears again in her normal form, as herself. not a clone. Alice isn't alive to take the cores and make them sluggish with heat and the sentinels wouldn't have a chance against the solvers centipede lookin ass form.

Anyway if we consider that one way or another Uzi, N and V will meet up again, [and N and Uzi preferably get to share a better kiss this time-] the first thing Uzi is doing is landing a swift punch in Vs face and then kissing the daylights out of her- //confusing herself and everyone in the area in the process including V herself...// overall she would scold V on the whole "i trust you" shtick and leaving them alone- but yeah :p [ keep in mind that im also considering a few nights between when J and Cynessa show up and when they decide to actually go and find and search the labs, because PLOT REASONS :D ]

as for the first Envee kiss- ill do you one better and make it more angsty and say that N and V used to always spend time with each other and do silly things like hold hands in secret or send internal chat messages to eachother, draw and read books together- maybe N used to put flowers for her sometimes. But at some point a certain little corrupted drone started feeling possessive of her favorite "big brother" figure not spending time with her anymore...

one time, N had asked V if he could kiss her and at that they were both blushing messes but before V could respond they get interrupted- maybe by someone giving them orders or maybe by Cyn. either way, V quickly whispers to him "later, i promise" with a smile, making N happy and giddy. but the later never comes... V becomes comatose soon after... N sadly reading books to her and sometimes whispering to her to wake up and that she still has to keep her promise...

anyway after all things are said and done in the future and the solver is defeated- whether they are still living on copper 9 or any other planet idk- N, V and Uzi are all close, but since both N and V are close to Uzi, they also start spending more time with each other too. maybe one time on a walk or going out and about N was able to catch up with V and they reminisce about old memories they can now remember; and when V was finally able to open up a bit to N, he mentions that he still remembers the promise and asks her if he could kiss her again and she lets him.

and thaaaats all the brain power i have for tonight... i think... hope it made yall smile or cry or idk something lmao. :")