#and there are good people in your life who don't 'make' you feel lonely anymore | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thriftedtchotchkes · 1 year ago

Text

old dogs don't change

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: weeks after sleeping together, your no-strings-attached agreement goes up in flames when joel goes on a date with another woman. you make sure that never happens again. (sequel to keep it on the low)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, ex-boyfriend!joel, jackson era, tlou 2 jesse appearance, age gap, hurt, angst, smut, unprotected piv, post-breakup sex, rough sex, public sex, rough oral (m!receiving), exhibitionism, possessive behavior, jealousy, alcohol use, briefly dating other people

word count: 10.6k

You have no idea who she is, but you bet she’s a total bitch. Is that mean? Maybe. Do you give a shit? Nope.

To be fair, you’d probably say that about anyone Joel started dating after you, but that doesn’t mean it can’t still be true. Sure, you've never actually talked to her…or seen her before in your entire life, but that’s beside the point. She’s cute and bubbly, and everything you’re not, and that’s the point.

It’s honestly a little comical how different the two of you are, and you can’t help but wonder if Tommy did that on purpose. You know he was the one who set them up. Everyone in the dining hall was talking about it this morning. The latest, hottest piece of gossip, bouncing from table to table like a cruel game of telephone.

He probably thinks he’s protecting his big brother, but you think he needs to mind his own fucking business. It’s not like he knows anything about your relationship, not really. Well. It’s not your relationship anymore, is it? And Tommy, along with everyone else in this town, blames you for that.

Poor Joel, dumped by the biggest bitch in Jackson, who took advantage of his kindness and patience for years, and broke his heart when all he did was love her. Selfish, cold, and uncaring. Nothing like the pretty, perky girl sitting next to him in the booth they’re sharing at Seth’s.

If only they knew what really happened.

The bar is especially busy, even for a Saturday night, so you figure no one’ll notice you blatantly glaring at them. It’s not like you care, anyway. You’re feeling warm and loose, and maybe a little too tipsy for your own good, but tonight, you get to do whatever the fuck you want.

Because Joel’s sitting ten feet away with his arm slung around another woman, and it hurts.

It sucks way worse than him avoiding you since the last time you slept together, after all of the things you did and said on that couch. The things he said. You shoo away the thought with another swig of beer, wishing you were drinking something stronger. It's for the best.

If you get any drunker, you’ll probably end up doing something stupid, and the last thing you need is to prove everyone right that he’s better off without you. But you can’t seem to shake the anger that’s starting to simmer below the surface.

With the emotional toll this night has already taken, you kind of don’t want to. So, you surrender to it. Fuck him. He’s a piece of shit for parading his new girl around right in front of you, and for breaking off your agreement without so much as a word.

If he wanted to see other people, he should’ve opened his mouth and used his big boy words. Then again, he’s always been terrible at that, so why are you surprised?

Maybe he’ll fuck her tonight. Touch her all of the ways you like because that’s all he knows anymore. She’ll moan for him, soft and sweet, gentle in her affection, just like she’s touching him right now. But it won’t satisfy him, and when he’s panting on top of her, chasing that all-consuming release only you can give him, you know he’ll be pretending she's you.

Asshole.

You’re still watching them, shooting daggers from your spot at the bar, when your wish from earlier is granted. Two overflowing shot glasses topped with lime are placed in front of you, and you look up to see a very attractive dark-haired, brown-eyed man smirking down at you.

"Looked a little lonely over here," he says in a raspy baritone even lower than Joel's. He clinks the top of your beer bottle with the bottom of his own. "Thought you could use some company, maybe another drink."

Well, he’s right. You could use some company, and you’d love another drink. There’s no harm in having a little fun, right? If Joel’s doing it, then there’s nothing stopping you.

"So, both of these are for me, then?" you smile coyly, reaching for one. He nods, his own smile widening.

"Could be. Can I join ya?" he gestures to the empty stool next to you.

He has this cocky look on his face like he already knows you'll say yes, and in your inebriated state, you think it's kind of hot. It reminds you of Joel when you first met. How he knew exactly what he wanted and wouldn't give up until it was his. Until you were his.

You consider him for a moment. He’s young, maybe even younger than you, and obviously confident enough to make a move on you. Fleetingly, you think he might end up being that stupid thing you do tonight, but then you down one of the shots and decide you don't actually care.

What turns out to be tequila burns the entire way down, and you immediately pick up a slice of lime. You’re hyperaware of the way his eyes lock onto your mouth as you suck on the sour fruit, lingering when a droplet of juice dribbles down your chin.

It’s not a total surprise when he reaches up to thumb it away, but you are taken off guard by how strange it makes you feel. The pad of his finger is disappointingly smooth, no weathering or even a hint of a callus. You're not sure why that matters to you, but you can take a decent guess.

You chance a glance over at Joel's table and, of course, you have his full attention now. His entire body looks tense, from his hand clenched on the table to the prominent vein bulging angrily in his neck.

Good. Now he knows how it feels.

Looking back up at your mystery guy, you run your tongue along your bottom lip, catching any remaining lime before you finally give him an answer.

"Sure. Pop a squat, cowboy," you giggle. It doesn't even sound like you and feels wrong the second it passes your lips, but as long as Joel heard it, that's all that matters. "You got a name?"

He replies, but you're too busy keeping an eye on Joel in your peripheral to catch what he says. In the back of your mind, you think that’s probably a good thing. You'd rather not know, especially if you do end up taking him home.

Mystery guy laughs at your noncommittal hum and you realize you’ve been caught. But he doesn’t seem upset. It’s clear he’s amused by your obvious interest elsewhere and that piques your curiosity.

Any other guy here would’ve been pissed by your apathy, especially if they’d bothered to buy you a drink that you accepted, but apparently not this one.

He sits down on the stool next to you, pulling it close enough that his knee presses against yours. You unconsciously lean into him, your skin erupting in goosebumps despite your growing unease.

He's...baffling. A total enigma. You can’t figure out what his deal is or why he’s choosing to keep pursuing you when your eyes have been glued to another man all night.

The thought of letting this continue long enough to find out is a little thrilling. Might as well see where this goes. If it escalates, you’re more than confident in your ability to care of yourself.

But it happens sooner than you expect. His hand finds the back of your stool and, then, his lips are suddenly right next to your cheek. You can feel the warmth of them as he tilts his head to whisper in your ear.

“Look, not try'na to overstep, but…,” his eyes dart to where Joel’s sitting, unreservedly ignoring his date. The poor thing barely notices, chattering away about something not nearly as important to him as watching you. His gaze returns to you, and you can feel him smirking. “You wanna make that guy you've been staring at all night jealous?"

That’s—wow. You didn’t see that one coming. He’s got a lot of audacity to assume that’s something you’d want, let alone offer…what? His services?

But, then again, he isn’t wrong. Joel’s been the only thing on your mind since you walked into Seth’s tonight and saw him with her. He’s always on your mind if you’re being totally honest with yourself. It’s plain to see, obvious to every single person in this bar including the man himself.

You eye your mystery guy curiously for a second before nodding, your lips quirking into a small smirk. Maybe it’s time to prove to Joel and everyone else in this judgmental town that you’ve moved on, too. That you’re not the sad, bitter shrew that deserves to be alone.

"Yeah, actually, I do," you reply cautiously. But there's still one lingering question that has yet to be answered. "I just…why? I don’t get why you’re helping me. What are you getting out of this?”

He shrugs, and somehow you can just tell by the look in his eyes that there’s no hidden agenda. You’re not sure how you’re just noticing, but he has kind eyes. This whole time, he’s been nothing but patient and attentive, like Joel always was—...is?

Was.

You almost wish you could fall for someone like this man instead of pathetically clinging to your past. Maybe you’ll at least get a friend out of this crazy night, if nothing else. But then you remember one, tiny problem with that idea.

“Can you tell me your name again? I promise you have my full attention this time,” you smile sheepishly. He chuckles good-naturedly and, again, doesn’t seem to hold it against you.

“It’s Jesse,” he says with a deep, southern drawl you should probably be more attracted to. “And let’s just say I know how it feels to want someone ya can’t have.”

You nod slowly, understanding perfectly. Except—you didn't realize up until this moment that that's exactly what you want. Someone you can't ever have.

And it took seeing Joel with someone else, his body pressed up against a woman that isn't you, to realize it. Well, that fucking sucks.

You decide not to ask about Jesse's situation. It's not your business and, anyway, you're both trying to feel better about your circumstances, not worse.

There’s a silent sense of camaraderie between you that tells you to throw caution to the wind. Tossing back the second shot, you turn your stool to face his, literally and figuratively turning your back on Joel.

“It’s really nice to meet you, Jesse,” you murmur, and you genuinely mean it. He grins, leaning in slowly, still giving you time to back out if you want to, but you don't.

Eat your heart out, Joel Miller. This one's for you.

"S'nice to meet you, too," he replies softly.

Then, his lips are on yours. The kiss is wet and open-mouthed, and yet he handles you so delicately. He cradles your face in his hands as his tongue brushes against yours, and you moan softly into his mouth, letting your body get lost in the way he feels. And he feels so—

Much different than Joel.

All you can think about is how much you miss Joel's rough touch, the way he'd thread his fingers through your hair and tug you into his mouth, nearly devouring you whole. Joel kissed you like every time might be the last, right up until it actually was.

Fucking hell, why can't you just enjoy this without him ruining it for you?

You try to forget about it, about him, licking into Jesse's mouth a little more aggressively, and he groans, his body eager and responsive. It's probably more than you should be doing in public, sitting at a bar surrounded by people but, hell, you want them to see.

They can say whatever they want about you. You're done giving a shit.

And, boy, will they have a lot to talk about after tonight. Joel makes sure of that. It happens so fast, you barely register that Jesse’s lips aren’t on yours anymore like they should be.

One moment, Jesse's hands are trailing down your sides to your waist, and the next, he's being forcibly dragged off you. Between you stands a broad, imposing figure ensuring you stay separated.

Your mind goes blank, and all you can do is watch in shock and disbelief as Joel lets loose on him, his words possessive and almost nonsensical.

"The fuck you think you're doin' touchin' her like that? Y'need to learn how to keep your hands to yourself, kid, before ya get yourself in trouble," he grits out angrily.

To his credit, Jesse stays cool and collected, but it’s not enough. There’s already a few pairs of eyes on you, drawn by the physical altercation, and it won’t be long before the rest of the bar notices the impending fight.

"Respectfully, sir, s'long as the lady consents, I'll put my hands wherever she wants," Jesse replies, standing his ground. He tries to move around him to return to your side, but Joel fixes him with a look that sends a shiver down your spine.

"S'that really a good idea?" Joel sounds menacing and looks even more so the longer the conversation continues.

You’re still numb to everything unfolding in front of you and it’s not until Jesse’s next to you again, snaking an arm around your waist, that you finally come to. The reality of your situation hits you like a ton of bricks and now you’re mad. You open your mouth to retaliate, but Jesse cuts you off before you can get a word in.

“There a reason it wouldn’t be?” he turns the question back on Joel and you tense, anticipating a less-than-friendly answer. Jesse squeezes your hip in reassurance, but it does nothing to soothe your unease. He doesn’t know Joel like you do.

“Kid, do I look like I’m fuckin’ around? Take your hands off her and walk away. M'not gonna tell you again,” he all but growls, taking a threatening step forward.

Neither of you back down. Jesse’s arm stays firm around you as your nails bite into your palm. It's taking everything you've got not to make a bigger scene than you already have.

You knew it. Since the breakup, you’ve been trying to reconcile this increasingly unfamiliar man with the Joel you gave your entire heart to all those years ago. With each passing month, the differences between the two become more and more obvious.

He's angrier now and has so much less patience. It's not that he's unkind. You know that no matter what his circumstances are, Joel will continue to be a good man. But he has a hair trigger, especially when it comes to you.

And he wants. God, he always wants you. It’s not that you didn’t have an active sex life before everything fell apart. He just...fucks you differently now. Possessively and without restraint, like he needs to be sure you're satisfied enough to never need anyone else. The agreement to keep sleeping together was actually his idea. And it worked for a while—until it suddenly didn't.

Now, you're forced to come face-to-face with that reality. Sitting at this bar, you spent the entirety of the night believing he'd decided he didn't want you anymore, that he was ready to find happiness in something simpler than sneaking around with his ex.

Except, it's starting to feel like maybe that's not as true as he made it seem. Like he never should've gone on this date in the first place.

"What the fuck, Joel?" you hiss, fighting to keep your volume under control. Not that it matters. The entire bar is staring at you, their eyes ping-ponging back and forth like they're watching a tennis match. "Back the fuck off. Now. This is none of your business."

"The hell it ain't my business. Some kid's runnin' his hands all over another man's girl and y'think that ain't my business?"

His trembling hands clench into fists at his sides and, while you’re betting the rest of the bar thinks he’s preparing for a fight, that isn’t Joel. It might be you, though, if he keeps this up.

"Excuse me? And whose girl am I—yours? Because I'm pretty sure your girl is sitting over there in that booth. Or did you forget about your date?"

For a moment, he actually has the nerve to look ashamed, like he feels bad about leaving her all alone at their table and for humiliating her in front of all these people. He avoids her crestfallen gaze, likely not ready to face the hurt he’s caused.

But it only lasts for a second before his eyes darken again, focused solely on you. As if Jesse, his pretty date, and everyone else in this bar disappeared, and it's just you and him. This conversation doesn't include them anymore. It's a private matter now.

"We're leavin'," he says with finality, his tone leaving no room for argument.

He should know better. That's not how things work with you. You’re a fighter, a trait he’s always loved about you, even if your ire was directed at him. Back then, it rarely was.

"You're out of your mind if you think I'm leaving with you," you scoff bitterly. "Go back to your date, I'll go back to mine, and we can forget about this. All of it. We're done, Joel."

He shakes his head, mouth tipping down into a frown like he's thinking something over. Then, he huffs out a laugh. Like, an actual laugh, and you start to think maybe he really has lost his mind.

"Y'know, I really don't think we are, darlin'," he drawls dangerously.

He's on you in an instant, his hand wrapped tightly around your arm as he drags you out of the bar. You briefly consider resisting, but he's moving too quickly. All of those shots you downed combined with the beer you drank earlier go straight to your head, and you're suddenly overwhelmingly distracted by the feeling of his skin on yours.

Fuck, it feels like it's been so long. In reality, you know it's only been a few weeks but, god, you missed it. His hands on your body, anywhere at all on your body. You'd hate how quickly you forget about Jesse if you could think about anything else but those familiar, rough fingertips.

The way they dig into you, reminiscent of how he'd squeeze your thighs or clutch your waist when he was making love to you.

...Wait, what? No...no, fuck. Why is he making this so difficult? Why—Christ...why can't you just leave each other alone? If he never planned on letting you go, he shouldn't have broken up with you. And if he still wanted you this badly...all he had to do was ask. You would've said yes in a heartbeat.

So, you let him steal you away, out into the brisk, wintry air that does little to cool your fury or the heat beginning to coil in your belly. The door shuts noisily behind you, and you immediately wrench your arm out of his grasp before he can say a word. It's your turn to talk now.

"What is wrong with you? You can't just...fuck, you can't do shit like this!" You're seething, practically shaking in your rage, and his expression doesn't look much different.

"And you can? I dunno what the hell you were thinkin' gettin’ cozy with some goddamn kid, lettin’ him touch ya like that in front of the whole town," he reiterates harshly. He's starting to sound like a broken record. It's the only leverage he's got, and you both know it's flimsy at best.

"Some kid? Jesse's a fucking adult, clearly more mature than you," you bite back. "And it’s a bar, Joel. That's what people do at bars."

Joel scoffs, and you can tell he hates the way Jesse's name falls from your lips. Especially when those lips were on yours not even ten minutes ago.

"And who are you to decide who can and can't touch me? You broke up with me," you continue resentfully. "You don't get a say anymore."

At that, his face becomes unreadable. He didn't need the reminder, and you know that, but it needed to be said for both of your sakes. Sometimes you think maybe he actually forgets it was his choice to give you up. That he didn't realize his decision would hurt you as much as it hurt him.

"So, what? You gonna take him home then, let him fuck ya?" He leans in close, so close you can feel his soft, graying curls against your temple and the coarse drag of his beard across your cheek.

"Kiss ya here—," a finger trails delicately down the side of your neck to his spot above your collarbone, then continues down to where you've been aching for him for weeks, "—taste ya here."

You slap his hand away before he can get any further, but your reaction only spurs him on. How could you forget? He likes that.

"Y'know he can't make ya feel as good as I do. Fuck you just how y'like it, make ya cum as hard as I do," he drawls confidently, almost smugly, in your ear. "Don't ya?"

It's less a question than a statement, because you both know he's right. Joel knows your body better than anyone ever has, maybe even better than you know it yourself. Just as much as you know his. And it's sort of funny. You were thinking the exact same thing about him with his date earlier.

"Sure, Joel. Just like you were gonna take that girl home, right?" You raise an eyebrow, turning your head so your lips graze his skin. "Pretty little thing like her, I bet she likes it slow and romantic. She’ll probably even stick around for a snuggle and some pillow talk. You'd love that.”

Even as you mock him, the sneer marring your face doesn’t quite meet your eyes, and the spiteful nature of your words tastes acrid as they pass your lips. He’s so good at that. Always able to bring out the worst in you to prove his point—that he’s no good for you.

But you stand firm, your chest pressed flush against his in a show of determination. You're still in control here, unlike Joel, whose fingers are twitching noticeably at his sides like he's just itching to get his hands on you again.

"Maybe I would. Liked it with you, didn't I?" he murmurs wistfully, and that catches you completely off guard.

His words are almost too gentle to belong in this argument, and it doesn’t feel fair. What's worse, he looks like he means them. You’d prefer the fight, the aggression of the man who dragged you out of the bar. Not this. Not these traces of your Joel.

You can already feel your resolve slipping, and the rapid thrum of your heartbeat tells you to let it. When his hands finally take their rightful place on your waist, he’s in control again.

The cool evening air is suddenly stifling, and you’re starting to feel like you’re suffocating, your thoughts a jumbled, heated haze of anger and fear and want. He squeezes hard enough to pull your hips into his and you unintentionally buck, allowing his hands to travel up your shirt.

There's an intensity to his gaze, tinged with an unexpected tenderness. He almost looks...sated. Fulfilled, now that you're back in his arms. But not completely, not yet.

"You still haven't answered my question," he mutters. His hands splay across your ribcage, high enough for his thumbs to tease the undersides of your breasts.

You bite down hard on your bottom lip, sliding your hands up his chest to push him away so you can catch your breath, but your body won't cooperate. It's been well-trained to crave his touch. Exhaling sharply through your nose, you fist his shirt and instead pull him impossibly closer.

"You asked a lot of questions tonight. You're gonna have to be a little more specific,” you pant heavily.

It's getting more difficult to think, now, with the warmth of his body against you, his thumbs shifting higher to stroke your stiffening nipples. He urges your hips forward again to meet his, and you can already feel him straining in his jeans.

You whimper helplessly, unable to curb the way your body's reacting to him, and the soft sound causes something in him to snap. He suddenly backs you up against the hard brick of the bar's exterior and begins to grind languidly into your stomach.

"Y'really believe that boy can take care of a woman like you? Hm?" He interrogates you, his voice gravelly and uneven in your ear. "Tell me I'm the only one who can give you what ya need. Wanna hear ya say it."

Fuck, you can't lie to him. As much as you want to, it's just one more thing your body won't allow you to do. Not when he's working you up like this.

"You're the only one," you moan around your admission. He's still crowding you into the wall, his hands greedily roaming your soft curves.

His eyes meet yours, darting quickly to your mouth before he leans in to kiss you passionately like he’s rewarding you. It only lasts for a second, one deliciously fleeting second, before he pulls away. You’re not sure why you let him. Or why you kissed back.

"Who's the only man who can make ya scream?" he demands a little more urgently.

"You, Joel,” you murmur obediently, your lips already parted and ready for your prize.

And he acquiesces—another insistent kiss that doesn’t last nearly long enough. This time, you chase him, but he jerks his head back. He still has one last question for you. Except, this time, he looks afraid of the answer.

"Whose girl are ya?"

He whispers it so softly, you barely catch it over the whistling, nighttime breeze. As he brushes a few ruffled strands of hair behind your ear, you answer without hesitation.

"Yours, Joel."

His entire body relaxes. Now, he's complete.

"Damn right, you are—"

Then, the front door bursts open next to you, and he's abruptly cut off. Joel is quick to tug you around the corner into the alleyway before anyone can spot you, but he's not fast enough to keep you from seeing who just left the bar.

Jesse.

And there it is. A shock to the system, enough to clear some of that smoky, nostalgic haze and bring you back to the present. But as everything hurtles back for the second time tonight, this time around, you can’t be mad because he’s right.

Of course, you're not Jesse's girl. As pathetic as it sounds, you'll always be Joel's because he’s the only one who can take care of you and give you what need. The only man who can make you scream. But that goes both ways.

Even though he’s been picking fights all night, he hasn’t raised his voice once. It's not the way he wins his battles. So, maybe it's time to remind Joel Miller that there is someone who can make him scream. But he isn't allowed to unless you say so.

It all feels eerily familiar—his fingers digging into your waist and your lips crashing into his hard enough to bruise. You lead him deeper into the alley, back to where the glow of the string lights above the bar can't reach you, before you separate from him.

Neither of you wants to be the one to say it, but it needs to be heard. Here, in the dark, you can be his completely, but once you part ways and return to your empty beds, that's it. Just like last time. The reasons for your breakup are still very real, and that means your relationship can't be.

"Only here. Right, Joel?"

He stays silent for a moment, his gaze filled with deep longing and sadness. It almost makes you want to take it back. Take him back. So, when he shakes his head and cups your cheeks, kissing you like this might be his last chance, you're not surprised in the slightest.

And after this whole night—this whole confusing, fucked-up night—you let him. Right now, he needs this. Maybe you do, too.

His lips taste like whiskey and relief, and you return his kiss with all of the passion and fervor he’s pouring into you. You’re both a little frantic in the way you touch each other, but as much as you don’t want it to, it makes perfect sense.

Those few weeks without each other felt like years, and now that his hands are back on your body and his voice, deep and dulcet, is in your ear telling you how badly he wants you, you don’t want to let him go again.

You grind the heel of your hand into the front of his jeans and his responding groan pleases you more than it probably should. This. This is yours—his pleasure, his attention, him. They belong to you and you alone. Not his pretty, perky fucking date.

The sudden possessiveness stuns you for a moment, but it's not enough to stop the feeling from consuming you. This must be how it feels for Joel. It's potent and feels so, so…right. You're starting to think you've felt this way for a while.

"I needed you, and you made me wait so fucking long," you gasp against his lips, and the fingers cradling your face tense. You’re still fisting his shirt, nearly hard enough to tear, and you wrench it up from where it’s tucked into his pants.

"M'sorry, darlin', I know. I know I did,” he rasps back, following your lead and dropping his hands from your cheeks so he can unbuckle his jeans. “M'gonna make it up to ya. Tell me what you want, I’ll give it to ya.”

You want everything. Everything he has to give, you want it all. After everything you've been through, the hurt he caused you, you deserve it. And right now, what you want is for him to feel so good, he'll never go on a date with someone who isn't you ever again.

Sharp gravel bites into your bare skin as you drop to your knees in front of him. He's already so hard under all that heavy fabric and looks desperate above you. Just as desperate as you are for him to replace the flavor of Jesse's tequila and lime on your tongue with something saltier and headier, and undeniably Joel.

You hastily unbutton and unzip his jeans, not wasting any more of the precious time you have left together, before tugging them down just enough to free his cock and balls. He looks...fucking mouth-watering—flushed and red and leaking, and so goddamn thick. You wrap your hand around him and he sighs gratefully, dribbling precum onto your fingers.

"This is what I want," you finally reply, keeping your eyes locked on his as you lean forward to lick a broad line up his cock. He hisses in a breath through his teeth, his thighs already beginning to tremble, and you brace your hand on one. "But you're gonna be quiet, okay? I'm gonna suck your cock and you're not gonna make a single sound."

His expression darkens, but he agrees to your terms, nonetheless.

"Sure, darlin'. Whatever you say," he nods, gazing down at you with furrowed brows. He cradles your face in his hand and brushes his thumb along your cheekbone.

The affectionate gesture isn't lost on you, but this time you accept it. Instinctively leaning into his touch, you revel in it for a brief moment before his cock pulsing a frantic rhythm against your palm becomes an unignorable distraction. But a welcome one.

"That's my boy," you mumble against the tip. Just as a pained noise escapes his parted lips, you swallow him down as far as you can take him, purposely gagging yourself on him before you can dwell on the words that accidentally just tumbled out.

Your boy. Your boy. It echoes in your mind, ricocheting wildly and painfully like a bullet. Before you can take it back, maybe even to keep you from taking it back, he buries his fingers in your hair and holds you in place. You choke around him, trying your best to breathe through your nose, but in doing so, you take in a lungful of the heady musk at his base.

The familiarity of it all sends you reeling. He only gives you a second to adjust before he's fucking into your mouth and biting back a litany of needy sounds that rival your own wet, audible gagging. Your grip on his thigh tightens as your throat relaxes, allowing you to take him deeper, and you can feel yourself clenching around nothing every time he grazes the back of your throat.

Tears stream down your cheeks and he wipes them away with a much too tender swipe of his thumb, even as he continues to force you up and down his cock. But you're too lost in your pleasure to notice anymore. So fucking good, you feel so, so good. But you need more, and you're not willing to pull off of him just yet.

Tugging down the front of your shirt, you roll a sensitive nipple between your fingers, and, god, that helps. You imagine they're Joel's and it amplifies the sensation, though your fingertips are still too smooth and delicate. Then, they're replaced by exactly what you've been yearning for all night.

“You don’t even know how beautiful y'look like this,” he grits out, his fingers running through your hair with one hand and roughly cupping your breast with the other. His hips stutter, and you moan around him. “Fuckin’ perfect. How are ya so fuckin’ perfect?”

Beautiful. More beautiful than her? Well, you must be, because you’re the one here on your knees, choking on his cock, and she’s still sitting in the bar wondering if her date will ever come back.

He won’t.

You preen without meaning to, your eyes blearily finding his while you drool around him, dripping saliva down his balls and onto your bare breasts. It's as if the visual alone has him thrusting into your mouth faster, pushing your limits only as much as he knows you can take. You must look like a wet dream right now, his wet dream, with your watery eyes and swollen, split-slick lips wrapped tightly around him.

Yet, he's remained so, so quiet this entire time, just like you told him to. Joel likes his sex loud, regardless of where you are and who might hear, so if he’s following your rules, that means something.

It means he'll do whatever it takes to have you. The realization crashes over you like a bucket of ice water, and then you're pulling off of him.

“You’ll give me anything, right? Anything I want?” your voice cracks around the question, wrecked from the effort of taking him. His hips chase your hand as you continue to pump him, matching his previous, unforgiving pace.

“That ain’t a question, y’know I will,” he replies breathily and without hesitation.

You gaze up at him, praying your eyes convey all of the need and anguish and hope you've felt since the last time you slept together. Since the last time you were his.

“Fuck me," and you won't accept anything less than his all. Not that half-assed shit he would've given her. "Fuck me."

He understands. His heart rate kicks up, thrumming wildly against the palm of your hand, and you know he does.

The growl that rumbles through his chest is nearly soundless but powerful. An entire night's worth of tension culminating in a single exhaled breath, just before he drags you up and spins you around, bending you over against the wall.

Bracing yourself on the harsh brick, you rush to give him better access, arching your back as he tugs your pants and underwear down to your knees. A callused hand runs upward, following the notches of your spine, while his other spreads across your waist, pulling your hips back onto his so you can feel him, heavy and leaking against your bare ass.

God, he’s so close to where you need him now. His knuckles graze your skin as he grips the base, pumping himself before the blunt head of his cock nudges your entrance.

But then, for some godforsaken reason, you feel a wave of panic. Time suddenly feels like it's running out, worsening with every subtle movement he makes. The ticking clock of your and Joel's relationship, perpetually stuck at two minutes to midnight, has sprung to life and that terrifies you.

You don't want him to stop—fuck, you don't want him to stop, but you know neither of you will last long once he's inside you. The build-up was too intense and this entire night has you both wound up so tight, you could snap at any moment.

You need to savor this. The way you failed to on your couch all those weeks ago, and might not get to ever again.

“Slow,” you tell him over your shoulder, and it's equal parts a command and a plea. If this is the last time, then you want to feel it. Every thick inch of him, while he still belongs to you. “Just…go slow.”

He nods, shifting forward almost imperceptibly so he can watch your lashes flutter as you brace for the stretch.

"Don't need’ta tell me. I know how ya like it," he replies gruffly.

He does. For now, you won’t overthink it or let yourself get lost in the nostalgia of his cock nestled inside you. You’ll just enjoy it. Sex with Joel has always been mind-blowing, and here, in a dirty alleyway, pressed up against the exterior of a bar, you bet it’ll be life-changing.

It stings like it always does when he breaches your entrance, no matter how wet you are for him. Together, you hiss in a sharp breath, mutually adjusting to the overwhelming stretch that quickly ebbs into something addictive.

"Tight as all goddamn hell," he mutters to himself, rocking into you languidly. He takes his time, relishing your walls enveloping him, mesmerized by the way you suck him in until he's buried to the hilt.

"Would'ja look at that," he continues in awe, tracing where his cock is forcing you to yield to him. "Greedy fuckin' pussy, ain't she? M'not goin' anywhere, don't'chu worry. Gonna take care of ya...make ya feel so fuckin' good..."

He's starting to babble. Not good. Not good at all.

Broad hands grip your ass, pulling your cheeks apart so he can see how tightly you’re gripping him, and it's too much. His hips buck, startling a pained whine out of you as he rams into that spot. The one deep inside you he can only reach when he’s fucking you from behind. Your cunt clenches, fighting to keep him there, and he growls low in his throat, hungry and territorial like a wild animal.

"There it is," he nudges it again, purposefully this time. You barely manage to bite back a sob as you gush messily around him. "Christ, honey, y'sure ya still want it slow? 'Cus it sure don't sound like it."

He's patronizing you. He knows exactly what he's doing—that's his spot. He also knows it makes you loud as fuck. But he wouldn’t. There’s no way he’d go back on his word, not after he promised he’d be discreet.

"Joel. Don't," you warn him shakily, but you're already too far gone to be intimidating.

He pulls out until just the tip is still inside you, huffing out a distinctly calculated breath.

"Don't what? Don't make ya cum nice and loud on my cock? 'Fraid I can't do that, darlin'."

That's all the warning you get before he slams in hard. Your jaw drops, and you're positive you couldn't have stopped the wail punched out of your chest even if you'd tried.

Wrong. You’re wrong again, and you should’ve known better. It’s not the first time he’s gone back on his word, remember? Joel’s shitty lack of communication is why you’re here in the first place. Sure, he agreed to be quiet, but he never said anything about you.

He establishes a brutal pace that has you scrabbling against the wall for purchase and slapping a hand over your mouth in a futile attempt to muffle the desperate cries being forced from your body.

Please, don’t be outside. Please, please, Jesse. Don’t still be outside.

But your luck's officially run out.

Heavy mahogany crashes into solid brick, echoing down the alleyway, and a raucous group of people spills out onto the street, barely 30 feet from where your ass and tits are out for anyone to see. Then, the deep baritone of Jesse's voice cuts through the rest, and your blood immediately turns to ice.

You're fucked. You're about to get caught and expose your secret to the entire town, except...Joel isn't stopping. Fuck, he's—

Yanking your entire body up and ripping your hand away from your mouth, rutting into you like he was just waiting for an audience. He snakes a hand up your stomach to palm at your chest, squeezing firmly to anchor himself as he fucks up into you with all the force he can muster.

And it turns you on so much, you finally stop caring. Fuck it. Fuck this town. Fuck everyone in that bar who made you feel like a goddamn pariah for months, crucifying you for the unforgivable sin of getting your heart broken.

You hope his date's standing out there, too, so she can hear everything she'll never get to have. So they can all see that Joel Miller isn't the crushed, cruelly dumped old man they all thought he was.

Your moans ring out, loud and high-pitched, all but drowning out the messy slap of his hips into the drenched curve of your ass.

"That's it, darlin', let it all out," he chuckles darkly against the shell of your ear. Your next moan tapers into a drawn-out keen that he mimics, his thrusts getting shallow and sloppy. "S'for me, right? Let 'em know you're makin' all those pretty noises just for me."

Christ, you're close. And he's as close as you are, you can feel it. You turn your head, nodding jerkily into his shoulder.

"S'for you, Joel—mmph, just for you. Only for you," your words slur as he continues to bounce you on his cock.

"Tell 'em you're mine, darlin’. Not just here," he pants raggedly, desperation coating his words. "Everywhere. You're mine everywhere."

The voices are getting closer, about to pass the mouth of the alley, and the ice in your veins quickly thaws, turning to molten lava. They'll definitely be able to able to hear you, but can they see you? For the umpteenth time tonight, you decide you really don't give a shit. You've got none left. You and Joel, that's all that matters now.

His hand drops between your legs, thick fingers swirling tight, slick circles into your clit while he waits for you to confirm what he already knows. You've said it again and again—weeks ago, wrapped up in his arms, and earlier tonight, after the worst argument you've had since the breakup.

And you’ll tell him again in this alley as you cum blindingly hard around his cock. Third time's the charm.

"Y-yours, Joel. I'm always yours."

His hips completely lose their rhythm, and he barely has time to breathe out his contentment before the violent convulsing of your cunt and contrasting serenity of your words send him hurtling over the edge.

"That's my girl."

He crashes his lips into yours, swallowing every noise you make as the group finally comes into view. Their drunken chattering and roughhousing aren't enough to draw your attention away from each other, but the depraved sounds of Joel continuing to fuck you through your release captures theirs almost immediately.

A few of them stop to squint into the darkness, trying their best to pinpoint what everyone already knows is happening further down the alley. As they inch closer, they can just barely make out two connected figures, and the wind carrying muffled gasps and labored breathing with it into the street all but confirms it.

"Y'all seein' this?" they whisper amongst themselves, but in the inebriated state they're in, they might as well be yelling.

And that's what pulls you and Joel back to reality. Shit. Shit. So, this is it, then. You tense in Joel's arms, waiting to get called out as the slutty girl who seduced her ex away from his date. Hell, they're not even wrong. You can feel his cum dribbling out of you, and can't help but think maybe you'd deserve it.

From where you're standing, you recognize each and every one of their faces under the string lights, and you know damn well that none of them can keep their mouths shut. Except...wait a second. They're still glancing back and forth between you and Joel in the shadows and each other.

Oh. The fucking shadows. None of them can see shit. They have no clue who the hell they're looking at. Joel must've caught on around the same time you did, because now he's backing up, putting more distance between you and the looming crowd. Before they can get any closer, one of the younger guys cuts in front to block their path.

“C’mon, it's probably a couple’a teenagers. Just let ‘em be," he drawls, glancing back at you. Your eyes lock, and you're suddenly so grateful, you could cry. It's Jesse. He shoots you a wink before turning back to the group, shaking his head in mock admonishment. "Don't act like y'all weren't doin' the same damn thing at their age."

By some miracle, it fucking works. They all laugh in agreement, appeased by Jesse's quick thinking. One by one, they follow each other out of the alley and back onto the road to continue their original path home. Jesse lingers.

"Glad y'all figured things out," he calls out over his shoulder, giving you privacy to tug your shirt back up. He clears his throat awkwardly before continuing, "Look, I, uh...distracted as many people as I could from comin' over here, but if y'all were gonna be that loud, maybe you should'a figured things out at home."

Jesse shakes his head again, chuckling to himself as he shoves his hands into his pockets.

"Anyway, y'all have a good night, now. Get home safe."

As he jogs away to catch up with the rest of the group, you start to laugh, too. You can’t help it. It feels cathartic, relieving some of the tension of this overly eventful night.

Joel’s body begins to shake behind you, his chest rumbling with what you realize is deep-bellied laughter. It gradually increases in volume as it melds seamlessly with yours; transitory, white clouds of condensation that intertwine, then dissipate.

You feel him slip out as he starts to soften, and then he turns you to face him, carefully crowding you into the wall. He kisses you again, this time slow and deliberate like you asked him to earlier. His tongue meets yours, gasps exchanged and treasured like you have all the time in the world.

When he parts from you, it feels reluctant, but he stays close, whispering his next words against your lips.

“M’gonna get ya cleaned up, alright?” he mumbles, dropping his arm from around your waist to run his fingers up the cum leaking down your thighs. You shiver as they continue up, slipping his release back inside you. “Don’t…,” he continues, squeezing his eyes shut as his forehead drops to yours, “…just—don’t go anywhere. Please. I’ll be right back.”

Maybe he’s trying to protect himself from the response he anticipates you’ll give him, but that seems silly after everything you’ve been through tonight. You cup his cheek and thumb the coarse, trimmed hairs of his beard, willing him to open his eyes. He does, hesitantly, one then the other, and you offer him a soft smile.

“I’m not going anywhere, Joel.”

An intoxicating breath fans across your face, and the taut muscles in his neck and shoulders loosen. His lips match the soft quirk of your own and, then, brush fleetingly against your cheekbone as he backs away and disappears through a metal side door you didn't notice before. The moment it clicks shut, you slump against the wall.

Christ. Your mind is simultaneously blank and racing a mile a minute. Taking a deep breath, you let your head thunk into solid, grounding brick while you wait for even a single coherent thought to take root. What now? What happens next?

There's no coming back from tonight. You both made choices you'll have to answer for, but, for some reason, that doesn't seem so scary anymore. The clock is ticking, but there's time. Plenty of it.

You're still lost in your reverie when Joel gets back with a thick wad of damp paper towels. You snort at the idea of him suddenly appearing in Seth's kitchen and having to explain himself, but maybe the racket you kicked up right outside his door was explanation enough.

"Seth didn't give you any shit for stealing his stuff?" you ask as Joel drops to his knees and coaxes one of your legs over his shoulder.

The cold air has already started to leach the warmth from the paper towels, and they feel cool as he slides them along your soiled skin. He huffs out a laugh.

"Nah, the kitchen was empty. Think they're startin' to close up for the night."

When he finishes your first thigh, he surprises you by leaning in to press a soft kiss against your freshly cleaned skin. He nips at you teasingly before starting on the next one.

You hum in response, threading your fingers through his hair and watching fondly as he pays careful attention to his task. He continues to wipe away his drying release, trailing his lips down your thigh as he goes, until he finishes at your knee.

He gazes up at you with a charmingly crooked grin, and that’s when it finally slips out. The single coherent thought you’ve been waiting for.

“I love you, Joel,” you murmur, brushing your fingertips across his cheek.

His smile falters. Then, it drops completely and your heart shatters. You don’t understand. But that—no. No, it doesn’t make any fucking sense. After everything that’s happened, how could you have been wrong again?

Joel sighs, grimacing as he slowly gets back up. He braces himself on one knee, clearly aching more than he's letting on, but when you reach down to offer him a hand, he refuses your help.

“S’fine, I got it. Just…,” he gestures to your jeans, still hanging loosely around your knees. You pull them up, fighting not to feel humiliated as he rises to his full height.

You search his eyes for…something. Anything. Any indication of what he’s feeling right now, but they’re blank. Cold and distant, just like they were the night he left you.

No. He doesn’t get to do this to you again. Not after everything you’ve been through. Not without an explanation. Not if he doesn’t want to lose you forever.

“Tell me why you broke up with me."

For a long time, you genuinely believed you could live without knowing the truth, but somewhere along the line, it began to eat away at you. Now, you want the real reason. He owes you that, at the very least.

You wait while he either works himself up to it or tries to figure out what bullshit to tell you this time. Once his hands settle on his hips, you know with absolute certainty it's the latter.

“Darlin’…,” he starts wearily, but you shoot him a look that stops him in his tracks. He doesn't get to call you that right now, and he knows it. Pausing, he nods grimly before beginning again. "We already talked about this. I’m no good for ya. It was only a matter of time before ya woke up one day and realized it for yourself.”

There it is. That same bullshit reason. You scoff bitterly, not surprised in the slightest.

“What the fuck does that even mean, Joel? We were together for years. If that was gonna happen, don’t you think it would’ve already?" you counter angrily.

You're trying not to get emotional. This can't be a repeat of what happened last time, but it's dragging up too many painful memories. It's always the same fight. You can't do this anymore.

"You know what? Fuck you," you seethe as your self-control slips completely. "Fuck you for making that decision for me. You had no right."

At your words, his face crumples and he has the nerve to look ashamed. Maybe even a little hurt. His pained expression makes your heart ache, yet a nastier part of you believes it's only fair that he feels this way, too. He sighs, his eyes dropping wistfully to his feet.

“I did what I thought was best," he mumbles quietly as if he doesn't want to be heard. It's hard for him to say this out loud, and you realize it's because he's finally telling you the truth. "I just…I thought you’d be happier with someone else, someone who could give ya a family. Kids. I gave you up so you could have the life ya always wanted."

You eye him incredulously. The life you always wanted? Sure, you and Joel had toyed with the idea of having a family once upon a time, but that was never a dealbreaker. He should've known that. He should've brought it up before deciding to destroy your life together over an idealized fantasy.

“Oh, here we go. Joel, the fucking savior. Mr. Fix-It, swooping in to save everyone and solve every problem," you hurl back venomously. But it was a cruel thing to say, and you immediately hate yourself for it.

Rationally, you know his intentions were kind. He probably even thought he was being selfless. But he hurt you, and, through your tunnel vision, that's all you can see. You push yourself off the wall, stalking closer to where he stands, still refusing to look at you.

"So what, you thought you’d dump me and I’d immediately shack up with some other asshole? Is that really what you think of me?”

His eyes shoot up to yours and his fingers begin to tap restlessly at his sides. Now, you've pissed him off.

“Don't go puttin’ words in my mouth. That ain’t true and you fuckin’ know it," he all but growls, his body shaking with a turbulent combination of frustration and adrenaline.

You're starting to feel it, too. This conversation is overwhelming both of you, but he still hasn't told you everything. There's a piece missing, keeping all of his disjointed reasonings from adding up. He's holding back and it's time for him to stop.

“Then what is, Joel?" you plead with him to give you a definitive answer. One that finally explains why you had to lose everything. Ellie, your home. The love of your life. "What’s the truth?"

Then, everything he's kept bottled up inside and allowed to poison his happiness claws its way out as a single, unwavering statement.

“I’m too fuckin’ old for you!”

The silence that follows his admission is deafening. You watch in shock as he runs a hand through his hair in frustration. He's never yelled like that before or looked so defeated. By something as innocuous as his age.

It isn't something you'd ever considered, not before your relationship and never once during. But he did. His bottom lip starts to tremble as he turns and takes a few steps away from you.

“Every day, I’d watch ya…offerin’ to take more shifts, spendin’ time at the school with Ellie and the kids," he says softly, shaking his head as he works through his next words. "And every day, I’d feel it. My body givin’ out on me, more and more. My blood pressure’s up, my goddamn knees are creakin’. Couldn’t even fuckin’ stand up on my own just now."

When he turns back to you, his eyes are wet with unshed tears. He feels too far, but you know you can't go to him, yet. He's not finished.

"You can do better than that. You deserve better than that," his voice cracks and your whole world blurs into a wash of colors. “You’re gonna outlive me by a mile. I’m an old man, darlin’. It wasn’t fair for me to keep ya.”

For a while, you just watch each other. Tears overflow and continuously spill down his cheeks and yours, but neither of you moves to wipe them away.

None of this is fair. You're both miserable and heartbroken, perpetually yearning for a love you've told yourselves you can't have. Months ago, Joel made a choice for both of you. You won't make the same mistake he did.

"I didn't want fair, Joel. I wanted you. A life with you...," your face screws up as you fight back a sob, "...the rest of my life with you, however long that is."

Joel takes a tentative step forward, carefully reaching out to touch you, but stops himself before he can get too close. He looks afraid...of you. Scared of the consequences of allowing you back into his heart.

A sob escapes your chest, then, and you wrap your arms around yourself, suddenly bitterly cold and wanting nothing more than for Joel to hold you. To tell you for the first time since the breakup that he loves you and, regardless of time, won't ever stop.

So, you cross the alleyway and cup his wet cheeks in your hands, wiping away his sadness and, hopefully, his fears. He melts into the poignant familiarity of your touch and it makes you brave. This time, you'll be brave enough for both of you.

"Don't I deserve that?" you whisper, close enough to share his next breath. He watches your lips, hanging onto your every word. "Don't you?"

His eyes meet yours, and it finally happens. The moment Joel gives in and decides to let himself be happy. He nods slowly in your grasp, reaching up to cradle your hand on his cheek.

"Dunno what I deserve, darlin'. Not after the things I've done and the hurt I put ya through. But if I'm...if this is really what ya want...," he hesitates, his voice thick with tears and, yet, still that full-bodied, twang that sounds like home. "I'm yours. 'Til my last breath, I'm yours."

He kisses you before either of you can start crying again, and it's all there. The love he kept under lock and key to protect you, released from the prison of his own making.

His kiss feels different again. There's no hunger or rush, and the possessiveness—the need to devour everything you have to give so there's nothing left for anyone else—is gone. He's sure, now, that there's no one else you'd rather give yourself to.

His arms circle your waist and he pulls you closer, crushing you into time-worn chambray and sullied denim as you continue to explore each other like a pair of horny teenagers. Two lovers learning to give and take for the first time. Time passes slowly in this space you've carved out for yourselves, even as the moon continues to rise in the night sky and floods the corridor with light.

Then, noisily and as if right on cue, the last-call crowd stumbles from the bar and immediately catches what the previous group missed. You and Joel separate, dazed but unhurried, to find that it's them.

It has to be fucking kismet that, of everyone in Jackson, the first to witness your reconciliation would be the biggest blabbermouths in the entire town. The same women who talked shit about you every day for months and constantly vied for Joel's attention, standing there with wide eyes and slack jaws.

Their varied expressions almost make you want to laugh, and you can't help but snort unattractively into Joel's shoulder. Half of them are glaring at you, and the rest look either devastated or genuinely surprised. Guess you were better at hiding your arrangement than you thought, not that it matters anymore. It's a relationship again, and everyone's about to know all about it. Joel clears his throat, drawing their attention back to him.

"Evenin', ladies. S'there somethin' we can help ya with?" he drawls, breaking out the Southern charm that endeared every single one of them to him in the first place.

They all shake their heads, looking a little too pleased with themselves once the initial shock wears off and they realize you've just given them the gossip of the century. After a few fake, high-pitched pleasantries, they slink away as quickly as they came, already chatting to themselves about some shit you'll definitely hear tomorrow at breakfast. You watch them go, feeling oddly liberated.

"Guess the cat's outta the bag, huh?" You wrap your arms loosely around his neck, still chuckling softly to yourself. Joel huffs out a laugh, too, bending down to kiss the crown of your head before nodding in agreement.

"'Fraid so," he muses, amusement and a hint of something lighter glinting in his eyes.

You haven't seen him this relaxed in a long time. As he holds you in his arms, he leans a fraction of his weight on you to ease the night's strain on his back and knees, and it makes you feel needed. Relied on. That's new, Joel depending on you like this. Things are going to be different this time around, you can tell. They already are.

You hum, ruminating on what awaits you after your first night back in your own bed, in your own home. What everyone will think and say—to your face and behind your back—when they find out you're back together. Though, the only opinions you give a shit about are Ellie, Tommy, and Maria's, anyway.

So, yeah, you're a lot of things right now: exhausted, yet relieved and so full of hope. But you're not afraid, the cat and the bag be damned.

"I'm not," you tell him honestly as you pull away. You let your hands trail from his shoulders, down his arms, until his hands are in yours.

Tugging gently, you walk him backward out of the alley, away from the bar and plummeting winter chill, and any lingering, prying eyes. Even the moon and stars have no stake in what comes next. This moment, right here and now, belongs to you and Joel, alone.

"Take me home, Joel."

The light in his eyes burns brighter, amusement giving way to adoration and contentment. He's been waiting for this, to be given the privilege of keeping you safe and taking care of you the way he needs to—it's how he shows love.

He slots his fingers between yours and leads you down the empty streets of Jackson.

"Darlin', nothin' would make me happier."

thanks for reading!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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archangeldyke-all · 28 days ago

Note

I’m BEGGING for angst to fluff to casual by Chappell with Sevika

I’m PLEADING for “working opening shifts/weekday shifts when Sevika doesn’t come in at the last drop” to Punisher by Phoebe Bridgers and reader falls in love with Sevika once they finally meet. (I will physically pay you for this one xx)

ohhhh my gosh the phoebe one..... holy shit...

listen to punisher here

men and minors dni

i love a good place to hide in plain sight...

you're one of the most popular nameless faces in zaun.

you know the name of every of the last drop's regular customers. you overhear gossip and plans and drama about some of the biggest people in the city. the liquor you slide across the bar for a living makes everybody's lips loose, and you know more secrets than any one person should know.

but nobody knows your name.

customers call theiram 'chuck.'

they call you 'doll.'

you don't mind it. knowing how to go unnoticed, how to keep your head down-- that's what's kept you alive this long in zaun.

but it gets lonely.

when there's a birthday at the bar, you're the one to pass out party hats and pull out the sparklers. last year, you ate a cupcake alone on your front porch to celebrate your own.

when you bump into strangers on the street on your walks home, you apologize with a duck of your head. it's either your familiar face and the fact that you pour their drinks; or the meek way you shrink in on yourself-- but they let you go each time.

when you clock out, if you're lucky, you'll time your leaving to overlap with sevika's arrival. and, for just a moment, you can pretend that she knows you as well as you know her.

what if i told you i feel like i know you?

you've known sevika your whole life.

you're certain she doesn't recall, but when you were children, sevika caught you shivering and cold-- the cardboard box you were living in soaked through with rain. she lent you a jacket and all the pocket change she had. she even smiled at you.

you were a barback when she was running with vander. you were there when she turned her back on the man-- when she chose her city over her friend.

you were there to watch her deteriorate under silco's employ. first her arm, then the various beatings she'd be doled each month, then the arrival of the dark bags under her eyes.

on occasion, she'll get belligerently drunk, loitering at the bar far after close, there to greet you when you open again the next day. on these days, you're the one to give her a glass of water and walk her home safely. her home is always a mess. the star patterned blanket you pull over her shoulders is so old it must be from her childhood.

but we never met...

silco dies, and everything goes to shit.

there's a week there where you're too busy avoiding the grey to worry about work.

and then there's the war.

and then...

the last drop is just a pile of rubble. jinx and isha are just as dead as the bar. and sevika is named ambassador.

here everyone knows you're the way to my heart. hear so many stories of you at the bar. most times alone, and some looking your worst. but never not sweet to the trust funds and punishers...

ran and thieram rebuild the bar. they offer you a job. you're right back where you've always been-- standing behind a bar and eavesdropping on people with real lives.

from time to time, you'll hear about sevika.

sevika, who's lost everything. sevika, who lives in piltover now. the thought makes you snort-- you can only imagine the glare permanently imprinted on her face now.

sevika starts welfare programs for zaun, slowly but surely. schools open, widows and orphans are paid, and more bridges start being built across the river.

sevika doesn't smoke. sevika doesn't drink. she quit for a girl who's dead now. but occasionally you'll hear that she's been sulking around piltoverian bars, nursing a fizzy juice and looking haunted.

you'll hear that she doesn't scowl at people who approach her anymore, instead, she signs pictures of herself with a resigned smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes.

you'll hear rumors that ambassador sevika can sometimes be heard quietly crying from her office.

sometimes, you'll walk by her old apartment. you wonder who lives there now. you wonder if she remembers those walks, if she remembers you.

you know she doesn't.

still, it doesn't stop you from crying for her.

i can't open my mouth and forget how to talk, 'cause even if i could i wouldn't know where to start, wouldn't know when to stop.

sevika's all alone in piltover and you're all alone in zaun. you wish you'd said something to her but you don't know when you could've.

maybe when you were kids, though you didn't know you were in love with her then.

maybe when you were strangers, though she would've simply laughed at your words.

maybe before she left zaun, though it happened so fucking fast.

you trail down the winding streets of the city she built, sipping on a bottle of her favorite whiskey, crying for her. for how lonely she must be. for how much she lost. you find yourself in front of her old home, like your feet have a mind of their own.

for a moment, you let yourself close your eyes and pretend that you're walking her home again. the woman you've loved your whole life-- the woman who doesn't know your name. you imagine the drunken slur of her voice, the stumble of her mis-matched boots, the warmth of her arm around your shoulders.

"dollface?" someone asks. your eyes fly open, and you blink at the woman in front of you. "what're you doin' here?"

sevika's wearing pajamas, her hair's a mess. she's got sand in her eyes that she's rubbing gently as she examines you from her front stoop.

you blink then stumble forward, reaching a shaky hand out to grab sevika's shoulder. she's real, solid and warm under your grasp. you gasp.

"have you been crying?" sevika whispers, her voice soft, her touch even softer as she reaches up to cup your cheeks.

there are a million things you want to say. i love you. i miss you. i am so sorry for you. for what happened to you. what are you doing here, don't you live in piltover? you look so tired. let me hold you, just for a day? let me tell you every single thing i love about you, i've got a list that's thirty years in the making. do you know who i am? do you know my real name? do you remember the nights you'd walk home with me under your arm? do you know those were the best nights of my life? do you remember when we were kids and you lent me your jacket? do you know i still sleep with it under my pillow?

but sevika's time with the pilties must've really softened her up, because instead of telling you to scram or spit it out, sevika reaches forward and pulls you in for a hug. "it's good to see you." she whispers against your shoulder.

you sob as you cling to her.

you don't think you'll ever stop crying.

you don't think you'll ever let go.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion @dancingqu33n17 @losernb

#sevika #sevika arcane #sevika imagine #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika #first time doing a song based fic! it was so fun!! i love pheobe lol

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v1rtualsalvat10n · 2 months ago

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𓆩♡𓆪 for the first time

― luigi thinks of you in his cell. that's it that's the fic.

notes :: thank you for all the support to show my appreciation i would like to throw a rusty screwdriver into your hearts i love u guys!!

The thing they don't tell you about prison is that it's really cold.

No, seriously. It's really fucking cold, even here in NYC where it's already cold to begin with - it's like you're in the back of a deep freezer in a shitty jumpsuit, because you kind of are. It's cold enough that I have to curl up into a ball on my "bed", knees to my chest in order to try and stay warm.

And because I have nothing to do, I find myself staring at the white, emotionless wall, and doing that sort of thing is kind of a surefire way to get your mind to wander. One of the tried and true methods, if you will.

It's lonely here. Sure, the inmates like me, they're nice, but I mean... I'm not really in the mood to socialize with anyone. This whole ordeal has sucked the energy out of me. I've been being thrown around the country for days, ever since they found me.

I don't even want to think about what's happening outside of this place, either. I'm sure people have lots of thoughts and things to say about what I did.

I wonder if she saw it.

The news, I mean. Of course she saw it, who didn't? I bet her and all my old classmates and friends are probably talking about it, about me, what I'd done - right now. Trying to pick apart my motive, maybe grieving about the life I'd thrown away. Guess I had a lot ahead of me.

Can't help but wonder what she's thinking. I wonder if she's disappointed in me. Or maybe proud. Why am I thinking so much about what she thinks of me? It was one fling, from ages ago, I can't even remember when... at one of countless parties, and yet I still see how she looked underneath me so clearly.

It wasn't really just a fling. I talked to her about it - about how the system was falling apart (if it was ever together to begin with) and I felt the need to put all this privilege I'd been granted to good use. How I felt like I had to do something. She told me about herself, too, how she'd been fucked over time and time again and how she knew countless others who felt the same way.

Actually, yeah, we spent a lot of time together, thinking back on it. She'd come over on those cold winter nights I remember so fondly and we'd keep warm together, whatever way we could find. She was kind of... below me, I guess. Lower class. Not that I cared that much, though. Didn't make her any less of a lover.

And then I went radio silent. Then I figured out exactly what that thing I had to do was, and I put all my effort towards it. I didn't have time for love anymore. I had to take the chance I'd been given and fix things.

So I started leaving her on seen, stopped answering my door, even when she'd yell that she knew I was there, stopped showing up at the places I'd loved before, I stopped everything. Dropped off the map and left nothing but a ghost in my place.

She probably hates me.

I'd like to think that maybe this brings her solace... that maybe the idea that "it wasn't because you did something wrong" made her feel better, but I doubt it does.

When I get out of here, if I even do, she'll probably have forgotten all about me, because everybody forgets. I'll be old news by the time that day comes, and everything we did, everything we wanted to do - would just be a hazy memory.

I still remember seeing her for the first time. I remember the way her eyes pierced through my soul, and I remember how it made me feel inside.

I wonder if she remembers that too.

#luigi mangione #deny defend depose #uhc assassin #uhc shooter #luigi mangione x reader

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rucksackmentality · 1 year ago

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List of the truths shared in Nana Morri's Honesty trial (C3E79):

Imogen: I am genuinely scared to meet my mom again.

Laudna: Deep down inside, both Delilah and I want the shard...Fearne should have it, but I don't know anymore what's my opinion or desires or feelings, or hers.

Imogen: I love Laudna deeply but I'm disgusted at the thought of Delilah looking at us all the time.

Orym: I'm super lonely all the time, especially at night. It doesn’t matter if I'm bunking with one of you guys.

FCG: Sometimes I pity some of you because you have beating hearts and opportunities and you don’t do enough with them...Chetney, you have so much love to give and it doesn't seem like you're interested in anything other than wood! There's people out there who you could love and experiences you could share with someone else, but all you care about is wood!

Orym: I've always kind of laughed it off but I guess I do kind of wonder if Chetney is my dad.

Ashton: I am the reason that the Jiana Hexum robbery went fucking wrong, and the reason why I got thrown out of a fucking window.

Fearne: I feel like we’re very ill-equipped for this job and we're going to fail at saving the world. (Laudna: Honestly that's probably true, I'm right there with you.)

Chetney: While wood may be the superior material to metal, I do fear that, with the dwindling interest in it, that children will find my toys - and thereby myself - obsolete every year I grow older.

FCG: I think it's something buried deep down in my circuitry, but every time I hurt or kill something - it feels really good. It makes me sort of relax a little bit and some of my stress goes away.

Imogen: I know we're supposed to save the gods, but I've tried talking to them my whole life and none of them would ever respond. I think I'm tainted. I dont know if I want to save gods that don't love me.

Laudna: You know we could rip-cord out of [saving the world] at any moment...right? And sometimes I fantasize about it all the time.

Fearne: I sometimes do stuff to you guys while you're sleeping - not weird stuff, I just like to look at you closely...and maybe like, twiddle your hair or braid it. Nothing bad!

Ashton: Whenever it starts to get quiet, I start worrying that one of us - most of us - are going to end up killing another one of us accidentally...I have panicked thinking about when one you kills another one of us.

Orym: I have all the faith in the world in you guys...and I have also spent time thinking of how to neutralize each of you.

FCG: I kinda worry that I put all my eggs in the Changebringer basket and she might betray us all. I had a really weird conversation with her and I think she's just out for herself and she might not really care about me - but what if she does? And I'm saying horrible things?

Imogen: Fearne, I was really disappointed in you for running away from your power. You should take the shard!

Orym: I really miss Dorian, and sometimes I think that's okay, and sometimes I think it isn't.

Ashton: I feel fucking worse that I just fucked up Fearne's life way more than mine and I should've died instead of that happening.

Chetney: I grew up in the Bramblewood outside of Westruun, and when I was a kid, I came back from learning how to make toys and found that my whole family had left. All they left behind were toys. They ran when Errevon the Rimelord was running across the plains, and so I'm kind of afraid of dragons. And I had five siblings - Alabaster, Pepper, Sugarplum, Hermey, and Chad - and I was so mad that they left I never looked for any of them, and now I'm pretty sure they're dead. So I think any family I have is just gonna look for a reason to leave me. That's why I don't get attached to anybody.

#critical role #cr spoilers #c3e79 #cr3

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aeth-eris · 14 days ago

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★ pac : call out/roast edition ★

★ decks used : rider waite + rebel deck ★

★ pile 1 : guy laying in snow ★

★ cards pulled ★

★ “take a shot” & “get the f*ck outside. move your ass.” [rebel deck] ★ 3 of pentacles rv, king of cups, & 7 of cups rv [rider waite]

★ interpretation ★

★ first of all, the rebel deck said it loud and clear: you’ve been way too cozy wallowing in your little snowdrift of procrastination and self-pity. the universe isn’t asking politely anymore. it’s basically throwing a shoe at your head, screaming, “stop making excuses and do something already.” you’re stuck in a rut because you refuse to pull yourself out, not because the world is conspiring against you. also, "take a shot"? yeah, that’s your reminder to loosen up. whether it’s a literal drink or just taking a leap of faith, stop overthinking and start doing. ★ 3 of pentacles rv: teamwork makes the dream work—unless you’re out here playing the lone wolf and ignoring everyone’s advice. are you being stubborn and dismissing people who are trying to help? newsflash: you’re not an expert in everything, and pretending like you don’t need anyone is why nothing is getting off the ground. humble yourself, ask for help, and actually listen when they give it. ★ king of cups: you’re out here flexing like you’ve got your emotions in check, but let’s be real—are you using that emotional intelligence for anything productive? or are you just bottling everything up and hoping it magically works itself out? spoiler alert: it won’t. tap into that maturity you claim to have and channel your feelings into something that actually moves you forward. ★ 7 of cups rv: the rose-colored glasses are off, but instead of taking action now that you see the truth, you’re just standing there like, “oh no, what do I do?” pick a direction. any direction. clarity means nothing if you don’t use it. stop fantasizing about all the things you could do and just do one of them. ★ you’re like that guy in the snow, lying there waiting for someone to rescue you while the answer is literally right there. stop playing the victim and get up. the universe isn’t going to hand you success on a silver platter, especially when you’re out here acting like you’ve already tried everything (spoiler: you haven’t). it’s time to ditch the pity party, stop crying over what could’ve been, and start creating what will be.

also, go outside. you’re starting to smell like the inside of your own excuses.

★ pile 2 : guy skating on top of beverage case ★

★ cards pulled ★

★ “be f*cking grateful” & “don't believe every shitty thought you have” [rebel deck] ★ the devil rv, two of wands rv, temperance [rider waite]

★ interpretation ★

★ first things first, your inner monologue? it’s not the motivational pep talk you think it is—it’s more like a heckler in the back row of your own life. stop letting every self-deprecating thought rent space in your head. you’re smarter, more capable, and honestly cooler than you’re giving yourself credit for. also, the rebel deck isn’t mincing words: be grateful. stop acting like the universe owes you more when you haven’t even acknowledged the good stuff you already have. skating past your blessings isn’t the flex you think it is.

★ the devil rv: congrats, you’ve started freeing yourself from something toxic—whether it’s a bad habit, a bad mindset, or a bad situationship (you know exactly which one). but here’s the catch: you’re still lingering in the doorway, hesitating like you don’t know how to leave. spoiler alert: you do know. the real question is, are you brave enough to actually move forward?

★ two of wands rv: speaking of moving forward… why are you so scared of planning for your future? you’re clinging to the familiar, even though you know deep down it’s not where you want to stay. stop sabotaging yourself with indecision and the “what ifs.” dream bigger, plan smarter, and stop waiting for someone to hand you permission.

★ temperance: balance, baby. you’re all over the place—one day you’re ready to conquer the world, and the next you’re spiraling. temperance is telling you to chill, find your flow, and start pacing yourself. there’s no prize for rushing to the finish line when you’re burning out halfway there. ★ you’re basically that chaotic skater dude on the beverage case—thinking you’re pulling off something epic, but really you’re one wobble away from a faceplant. stop letting fear, doubt, and overthinking control your moves. the devil rv says you’ve already started breaking free, but the two of wands rv says you’re too scared to claim the freedom. temperance is the friend yelling, “bro, slow down, or you’re gonna break your metaphorical neck.”

also, stop whining about what you don’t have. the universe has given you plenty to work with, but you’re out here acting like you’re skating with broken wheels when you’ve got a brand-new board. be grateful for the progress, even if it’s messy, and get your balance before you wipe out entirely.

★ pile 3 : girl mid-slip near wet floor sign ★

★ cards pulled ★

★ “get some f*cking sleep” & “don't f*cking force it” [rebel deck] ★ the empress, knight of swords rv, the chariot

★ interpretation ★

★ the rebel deck is tired of your overachieving nonsense. you’re running on fumes, caffeine, and vibes, but guess what? your body and mind are screaming, “can we not?” you can’t hustle your way out of exhaustion, and forcing things to work isn’t going to magically make them fall into place. sometimes, the best move is to just take a nap, regroup, and let things flow naturally. no one’s handing out medals for being a sleep-deprived mess. ★ the empress: you’ve got big creative energy and the potential to nurture something amazing, but here’s the thing—you can’t birth a masterpiece when you’re too busy running around like a headless chicken. slow down, embrace your inner empress, and let your ideas grow organically. also, self-care? it’s not a luxury; it’s a requirement.

★ knight of swords rv: this is you, barreling into situations without thinking, full of chaotic energy and zero patience. you’re rushing so fast you’re missing the wet floor signs in your life. impulsiveness might feel exciting, but it’s not sustainable. pause, breathe, and stop trying to bulldoze your way through every challenge.

★ the chariot: the good news? you’ve got determination for days. the bad news? you’re trying to drive a chariot with one wheel in the ditch. success is yours, but only if you balance that ambition with strategy and self-control. remember, winning the race doesn’t mean sprinting until you collapse—it’s about maintaining your focus and pace.

★ girl, you’re out here mid-slip, ignoring all the signs, thinking sheer willpower will stop you from face-planting. spoiler: it won’t. the empress is screaming “rest and recharge!” while the knight of swords rv is dragging you for acting like a chaotic tornado. the chariot knows you’ve got what it takes, but not if you keep pushing yourself into burnout mode.

so here’s the deal: slow. the. f*ck. down. let things unfold naturally instead of forcing them. take a nap, hydrate, and stop pretending you’re a superhero who can function on zero rest and pure adrenaline. the wet floor sign isn’t lying—you’re slipping because you’re doing too much. trust the process, and give yourself permission to just exist for a hot second. the world isn’t going anywhere.

★ book a reading ★ ★ masterlist 1 ★ ★ masterlist 2 ★

#tarotcommunity #tarotblr #tarot reading #tarot cards #tarot #pick a card #pick a pile #pac reading

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cobaltperun · 1 year ago

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Lost - Born for this

Tara Carpenter x female Reader

Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.

Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics

Word count: 4.3k

Story Masterlist / Next part

-They just don't get it, I think they forget, I'm not done till I'm on top-

A fist collided with your forearm as you took a step back, mitigating the effects of the impact. The muscular woman in front of you had blood dripping from her lower lip, and a swelling around her left eye, but she still wasn’t giving up as she pushed on toward you. You lowered your guard, baiting her into growing more confident, only to pull her into a clinch and land two ferocious uppercuts right to her head. She pulled away from you, drops of blood from her nose falling between you in the process.

It was only a matter of time before you’d win. A good hit would end the battle, continuing your streak of victories.

Sometimes it felt wrong, seeing how much you sacrificed for this, but you found peace in a battle, you found the cure to your heart in violence, in the physical pain and fight that would make you feel more adrenaline than anything ever could or would. You felt lost, a lone fighter going up against life itself, left without anyone you could turn to if you lost. No, that wasn’t quite right. She just… wasn’t as present in your life anymore, she couldn’t handle seeing you after your fights, and one thing led to another. So, the only place that didn’t make you feel lost or trapped was, ironically, a cage. Somehow, that felt fitting. The only right thing in your life at the moment were these MMA fights and this was the biggest one of your life so far. The loud cheering of the crowd? Merely a background noise. The taste of blood in your mouth? Just another reason for the adrenaline pumping through your body. The pain you were currently feeling? Both from the exhaustion and the hits you took? That just made your body release endorphins. The opponent in front of you? Soon to be defeated.

A flurry of punches made the already exhausted woman step back enough for you to do a quick 540 degree kick, pushing her against the cage and making her knees nearly buckle. A feint ended the battle as you pretended to aim for a liver shot, she lowered her arms to block and realized too late that you pulled your fist back and spun around. You landed a spinning back kick to her side and she dropped down, unconscious. The beating of your heart slowed down as you took deep breaths. You took a moment to wipe off the drops of sweat and a bit of blood from your forehead, to come back to reality and come back down from the high of the battle as the adrenaline began slowly fading away. The cheers of your name were no longer background noise, you were no longer the underdog, you just won your second local title, proving the first one wasn’t a fluke. You could finally enter the next stage! Take on the world’s greatest female MMA fighters! The euphoria caused by the success was a fleeting thought, a steppingstone. The desire to keep pushing harder, to get stronger and better already settling in along with the anticipation of the next fight.

A reporter came up to you while you were still in the cage, with the belt hanging from your shoulder, and an easy-going confident grin on your face you had to admit you did look good.

“Another KO! Another undeniable victory! How does it feel?” the reporter, a woman that has been following your career almost from the start, seeing the potential in you, greeted you.

You offered her a smile, filled with appreciation for her support. “Amazing, I’d love to say the fight could have gone either way, but I can’t be stopped,” for a moment you turned to the crowd around the cage. “Isn’t that right?!” you raised your arms up, putting on a bit of a show. Trash talking and overconfidence was part of the job, it generated hype, and earned you money. Respect for the opponent was for the behind the cameras.

And the crowd cheered and booed, almost in equal numbers, some wanting to see you keep going, some wanting to see you fall, as long as they came to watch it hardly mattered, especially since living in Woodsboro meant you didn’t have to deal with either group that often.

“And what’s next for the Woodsboro’s upstart fighter, Y/N L/N?” the reporter asked over the yells of the crows.

“The world, of course! Sooner, rather than later I’ll come for the title!” you promised, not exaggerating one bit, that was your goal, the purpose, the reason to keep fighting. You would become the world champion.

“Your target is Anya Golubeva, is what I’m hearing. It’ll be a tough road, but you’ve never been stopped before,” the reporter encouraged you to keep going.

You smirked, knowing full well the current world champion, Anya Golubeva, was a fight that was still far away, and that she might not even have the title by the time you get to challenge her. “Sure, it’s about time someone takes the title from her!”

You kept chatting for another minute or two before saying goodbye and leaving the arena. Your coach, pleased by your victory, was right by your side, waving to the crowd and enjoying the attention much more than you did now that the theatrics were over.

“You’re going right back to Woodsboro?” he asked you as you walked through the nearly empty, dimly lit halls, your footsteps echoing all around you.

“Yeah, I’d rather be there right now,” you said as the two of you stopped by the doors of the locker room. “I’ll see you next week and we can go over this fight and potential opponents for the next one,” you patted him on the arm, really wanting to just take a quick shower and get in your car as soon as possible. The drive back to Woodsboro would take almost two hours, so the sooner you left the building, the sooner you’d go back home.

“Of course, you were great tonight! Keep doing what you do the best and we’ll be at the top of the world!” he was happy, much more excited than you were, and you couldn’t blame him. At least someone was appropriately happy with the success you were having. And it wasn’t that you weren’t happy, but considering you pretty much ruined your chances with Tara by choosing MMA, this wasn’t enough to make it worth it.

You doubted even the world title would be worth that, but those were the thoughts for the darker moments. When you were all alone, in the darkness of your apartment, unable to sleep and replaying the moment you lost her in your head.

~X~

The moment you got in your car you felt a sense of clarity, you no longer felt the high of the battle, just the sense of calm and peace. The drive back to Woodsboro was fun, driving was always fun, well, aside from the times when you’d get stuck in traffic, but that was beside the point. Driving was fun, but driving also meant not answering the phone that kept ringing as if your friends didn’t know you by now. The Babadook theme suddenly caught your attention, and you figured you could stop to fill up the gas tank, so, roughly a mile down the road you stopped and pulled out your phone and returned the most recent call.

You noticed it was a bit cold as you stepped out of your car, and you had to admit, the road to Woodsboro, surrounded by tall trees was a bit spooky this late at night. A few seconds later Chad’s voice came from the other side. “How come you don’t answer any of us? Hmm Champ?”

“Tara has a different ringtone,” you shrugged as you began filling the gas tank. Given how late it was, and that you were already relatively close to Woodsboro your car was the only one at the small gas station.

“Not fair, Y/N,” you could hear the pouting in his voice.

That made you smirk, as if you wanted to be fair when it came to Tara. “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you weren’t even sure he heard you as there was a sudden commotion wherever he was. Probably at his and Mindy’s house. While your friends were deciding on who was getting the phone you wondered why you didn’t put on your jacket, because the chill night air and a bit of wind blowing in your face wasn’t exactly fun at the moment. Oh well, this wouldn’t take long, even if the short-sleeved polo shirt would get a weird look from the cashiers.

A few moments later the commotion settled down. “Hey, how did it go?” hearing her voice felt so damn good, especially since you didn't get to hear it that often lately. Tara’s question made you smile. She didn’t watch your matches, but you knew she heard how the match ended from Chad. She wasn’t asking about the match though.

“Let’s see, my lower lip got busted, but it’s really not that bad, other than that there’s nothing out of the ordinary, I’ll have bruises for a couple of days, and I’ll be sore but it’s the regular outcome,” if it was anyone else asking, you’d probably be annoyed, but it was Tara and you missed her. And even if you didn’t miss her, well Tara was Tara, you could never get annoyed because of her.

You could hear a sigh. A sign of disapproval and reluctant acceptance that telling you to stop fighting would only be a waste of her breath. You couldn't stop. You plain and simple couldn't. Not ever for Tara. There was something bigger than simple fighting here, you had an obligation to fulfil, even if deep down you desperately hoped it would be worth it in the end. “Could you pick me up? I’m at Chad and Mindy’s house.”

The question caught you by surprise, she hadn’t asked you to pick her up since two months ago. “Yeah, of course,” you glanced down at the watch. “I’ll pick you up in half an hour?”

“Great! Drive safe okay?” the excitement in her voice made you shiver, and not from the wind, in fact, you barely felt the wind or the cold at all.

“Always, Tara,” you reassured her, fully aware of how much softer your voice got when you said that, as well as how her breath hitched when she heard you. “I’ll be there soon,” you hung up, went inside the gas station to pay, and grabbed a kiwi fruit bar as well as a bottle of water. You paid and were back on your way to Woodsboro.

~X~

“A special ringtone? Seriously?” Chad teasingly accused the moment Tara hung up, even though she was still under the effects of your voice softening like that. Ever since four months ago you rarely spoke that softly to her, and she missed it. She missed the warmth, the gentleness, andit was all because you were respecting her decision.

Tara just shrugged, leaning back into the pillows behind her to appear even smaller, suddenly she found the snacks in front of her to be the most interesting thing in the room. She was just glad she remembered to put her phone on silent when you called back. It was a bit of an unspoken promise between you two, you had the theme from the Babadook as your ringtone when she called and she had a song from your favorite show (movie) as her ringtone when you called her. You didn’t even discuss it really, you just misplaced your phone one night and she called you and heard the theme, prompting questions from her since you did not like the Babadook enough to make it your ringtone. Even she didn’t have that theme as her ringtone! Sometimes she felt like she wasn’t fair to Amber, but you were you! You have been her best friend since she was almost ten, since that day in the rain.

You’ve been her, everything really, her best friend, her protector even when Sam was still in Woodsboro, her first love, but not her first kiss. When Tara thought of being loved, she thought of you, of being held in your arms. But you didn’t love her back. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. You didn’t love her back enough. You chose your career. You chose to be an MMA fighter and Tara couldn’t handle that. The idea of watching you get hurt, or waiting for you to come home with fresh bruises stopped her from telling you how she felt. It was one of the reasons she accepted and, to the best of her abilities, reciprocated Amber’s feeling.

“Forget the ringtone! She’s picking you up,” Mindy had the guts to give her a knowing look as if she actually knew anything. She had the guts to be giddy with excitement over something that no longer mattered.

“Good thing Amber couldn’t make it,” Liv’s taunt soured Tara’s mood instantly. “Shit, sorry,” and she noticed it immediately.

Tara smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It’s okay,” even if Tara loved you there was nothing but friendship between the two of you and if Amber was going to be unreasonably jealous that was her issue. Not Tara’s. She already compromised enough, she could spend a bit of time with you. She promised herself it would only be the ride to her place and maybe chatting for a bit, not for too long, since you needed your rest, but just for a bit. The thought made the smile reach her eyes. The smile vanished when a message from Amber caught her attention.

~X~

Chad and Mindy’s house wasn’t far from Tara’s. It was definitely within walking distance, but given how late it was, and that it was getting colder, getting a ride wasn’t unreasonable. Not that it mattered, you didn’t need a reason to spend time with Tara. You stepped out of your car, a comfortable car, not exactly built for speed, or off-road driving, it was perfect for you though.

“Champ!” Chad was the first to tackle you into a hug as you approached his and Mindy’s house.

“Hey buddy, take it easy, I got hit there,” you half-joked as you patted him on the back.

“Where?” the teasing grin on his face told you everything.

“Everywhere, you jerk, I was in a fight,” you laughed, stepping away from him. A brief hug from Mindy and a high-five from Liv wrapped up the greetings and congratulations.

“We saw, even Tara saw,” Liv pointed out as the four of you entered the house.

“Nice,” that’s when the meaning of her words finally hit you and you stopped. “Wait, what?” your jaw dropped as you turned back to stare at Mindy.

“Technically she was peeking through her fingers, but she saw the fight,” Mindy explained with that knowing smirk on her face. You glanced through the doors, watching as Tara was getting ready. She had her back turned to you, and you knew you were staring, but you couldn’t take your eyes off her. She actually watched your fight. “Come on you two, let’s take our place as the lovable side characters,” Mindy’s teasing was never going to end, not even now that Tara was with Amber. You just flipped her off, still watching Tara as she placed her inhaler and phone in her bag. You frowned at that. Did she need her inhaler? During your fight or after it? When you turned to look at Mindy and Chad they seemed to lose interest in you and Liv wasn’t much better as she pretended to admire a picture hanging on the wall. Sighing, you went into the living room just as Tara turned around.

Her face lit up and she jumped into your arms, letting you lift her up. “You okay?” you asked as she looked down at you. Her left hand rested on your shoulder as her right hand slipped behind your neck. The warmth of Chad and Mindy’s house was nothing to the warmth of her body in your arms.

“I am, don’t worry about it,” the softness of her voice, the adoration in her eyes, the gentle way she checked the cut on your lower lip, you took it all in, because it’s been too long since you and Tara were this close. For reasons you were almost sure had everything to do with Amber, you and Tara grew distant a month into their relationship. Spare inhaler Tara kept at your place? Amber had it now. Movie nights? Once a month if you got lucky, as opposed to at least twice a week before her relationship with Amber. Tara almost randomly appearing to hang out either at the gym or at your work? That seldom happened over the past three months. So, you figured you could be forgiven for wanting to hold your best friend just a bit tighter and longer than you did before she told you she and Amber got together. You could be forgiven because despite what you felt this was how you were as friends long before you figured out you had feelings for Tara. You could be forgiven because you would never do anything that would affect Tara’s happiness.

“Okay, I’m here if you need to talk,” you assured her softly.

Tara’s smile grew wider. “I know, Y/N,” you could see the reluctance in her eyes as she dropped her left hand from your shoulder and lightly squeezed your biceps, a silent sign that told you to let her down. You did and now the height difference of roughly eight and a half inches emphasized how adorably tiny Tara was compared to you. “By the way, a tiny change of the plans, could you take me to Amber’s house?”

“Sure,” you missed your chance, well, that would imply you had one. Well, you would have had a chance if you didn’t choose to fight. So, you decided there wasn’t a chance to begin with. The drive to Amber’s house was filled with deafening silence broken only by the occasional buzzing of Tara’s phone, filled with unspoken words, and filled with a sense of tension you hated.

As you waited for the traffic light to turn green you realized you haven’t given Tara the fruit bar you bought, so you reached for the fruit bar resting next to the water bottle in your cup holder and silently handed it to her.

“Oh,” you guessed she was surprised, but seeing as the lights turned green you couldn’t look at her. You could only feel the brush of her fingers as she accepted the snack. “Thank you,” she said, causing you to smile.

“Always, T,” your smile widened when you heard a muffled moan of appreciation at the taste of the fruit bar. She always loved kiwi, so you made it a bit of a habit to get her something with kiwi every now and then.

A few minutes later you parked in front of Amber’s house and Tara stepped out to greet Amber, the girl was already waiting by the road. They didn’t kiss though, because Tara pulled away before Amber could do that. For some reason, you had an awful feeling you should say something to Tara. It was a familiar feeling, one you normally got when you realized you were about to get hit but couldn’t do anything but brace for it.

Tara leaned through the window of your passenger seat and reached out for your hand. "Thanks, Y/N," there was that smile again.

"Don't mention it," you gently squeezed her hand as the silence turned from uncomfortable to pleasant and you just looked her in the eyes. Just for a moment, you didn't feel lost, you felt exactly how you felt before she got together with Amber.

A cough made Tara pull back and take a few steps back, choosing to stand next to Amber. “Good night,” Tara waved at you.

“Sweet dreams,” you forced out and drove away, the feeling of being lost came back, right along with that awful feeling that filled you with anxiety.

That night, the only reason you managed to fall asleep was the exhaustion in your body, and as the date changed from 22nd to 23rd you were plagued by nightmares you neither remembered nor could explain.

~X~

The moment Tara followed Amber inside she regretted not going home. Or to your place. She regretted it as she sat down in Amber’s living room, with her arms crossed and Amber clearly fuming. It was a familiar scene, a slasher horror movie playing on the TV to fill the silence, the dinner plate with a few crumbs on it, a half-drunk cup of milk, the usual scene for Amber’s living room when there wasn’t a party of some kind going on. “Amber, Y/N is my best friend!” Tara argued, hoping to prevent the argument before it even started.

Amber laughed, almost maniacally, at that. “Yeah, a friend! You never look at me like that!” she accused, already yelling.

“Yes, a friend, you know there’s nothing between us,” and she didn’t look at you ‘like that’. She knew exactly what look Amber was talking about, the longing look, filled with all her love and desire for you. She didn’t look at you like that since her and Amber got together. She drew a definitive line there; she would never make Amber feel insecure about their relationship. Tara made her choice, you made sure it wasn’t you, that was the end of it. You were her best friend, but Amber was a close second and Amber loved her the way you wouldn’t…

Amber slammed her palm on the table. “But you want to!” she screamed, her eyes wild and filled with jealousy.

Tara didn’t back away, she didn’t flinch, she just tried her best to keep her breathing under control without using her pump. Amber was angry, but Amber would never hurt her. Even if she tried Tara was confident she could get away. “I wanted to, and you’ve always known that! But that’s the point, I wanted to! I don’t want to anymore! I’m with you now!” she yelled back, tired of this argument happening again and again.

Amber took a deep breath, finally calming down, and that was all Tara wanted, she just wanted her girlfriend to remain calm. “I’m sorry, Baby, I just… You know how I get when I see Y/N,” Tara knew, she knew and that was why she accepted to create some distance between the two of you.

It got out of control by now, it wasn’t supposed to be this drastic, but Tara craved the love Amber was giving her, and she had learnt a long time ago that if people loved her, they expected something from her. Her dad wanted a healthy daughter, she wasn’t that, she was sickly and weak and needed to be cared for. So, he left. Sam was the same, Tara couldn’t be the little sister Sam wanted. Sam couldn’t be a normal teenager with Tara around, so Sam distanced herself and then abandoned Tara almost the first chance she got. Her mother was the same, because Tara was the one who tore their family apart. Because Tara clung too hard. Because Tara wasn’t good enough.

Amber was the same, Amber needed a girlfriend that wouldn’t choose you instead of her, Amber needed Tara to choose her instead of you, so Tara did that. That was the cost of Amber’s love. And Tara would pay it. And Amber knew it.

“I know, Amber, I just miss my best friend sometimes,” Tara sighed, a tiny voice in her head telling her you’d never make her choose, that you never once wanted anything more than what Tara had to offer to you. If there was anyone who loved Tara for who she was, without expectations, conditions, costs, or abandonment, it was you.

But you’d never love her the way Tara loved you. Why else would you let her get together with Amber? Why else would you accept the distance? You wouldn’t have done that if you loved Tara back. You fought for a living, so why couldn’t you fight for her?

“Y/N will abandon you Tara, sooner or later. She’s no longer your guard dog. The moment an opportunity for her career comes around, she’ll abandon you. I won’t, I’d never abandon you,” and as Amber sat down on Tara’s lap, Tara found it difficult to argue, especially since you kept winning, and with every win you’d be closer and closer to your goal. You’d leave Woodsboro eventually, searching for a better life, and Tara would be left here, unable to follow.

That same voice in the back of her head, the one that constantly told her to go to you, told her Amber was wrong. Distance made it difficult to argue. Distance made it easier for Amber to convince her this was the truth. In hindsight It almost would have been enough, but then you took hold of her and all of Amber’s efforts were immediately wasted. You nearly took hold of her one day too late, though, but even then, even as she was bleeding out on her kitchen floor, her leg broken, desperately crying out in pain and fear of the one who attacked her so brutally, she still only thought of two people as she barely clung to life. One was Sam. The other? You.

A/N: So, Y/N is an MMA fighter, honestly, I just want the reader to be reasonably capable of kicking Ghostface’s ass, so yeah, the reader is a badass.

Story Masterlist / Next part

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter x you #scream #jenna ortega x reader #x reader #x female reader

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fuck1ng-queen · 18 days ago

Text

Better than the series

Noah Sebastian x Reader

Rating: 18+

Warnings: light discussion, you being a bit shitty, jealousy, oral sex, Noah using that damn mustache

Author comments: hi bestiessss, how are you? if you follow me, you may have seen a post i made about mustache!noah a few days ago and honestly, i didn't think that post would get so many notes (which makes me think that mustache!noah is something everyone is interested in). anyway, i'm going to hell for thinking about noah like that and i'm taking all of you with me, kisses!

"It was great, guys! Thank you so much! See you next week!" You said, pretending not to be so enthusiastic.

You finished your work and lowered the screen of your laptop with excitement. Friday afternoons were always full of expectations. The daily stress of adult life kept you away from your boyfriend much more than you would have liked, so the closer Friday night, the sacred moment for both of you, got, the more butterflies danced in your stomach. Of course, you weren't a little girl anymore, and you weren't in the "getting to know him" stage, but damn, when you realized who you were dating, it was hard not to feel like jelly.

You took a quick but strategically effective shower, dressed comfortably, perfumed your hair with Noah's favorite scent, and quickly ordered a car to be there as soon as possible.

With a backpack on your back and a smile on your face, you arrived ready for your special evening with Noah. It didn't matter what you were going to do, what mattered was that you were together. The door opened and he greeted you with a warm hug and a kiss before you snuggled down on the couch. How good it was to be with him, you felt as if the week hadn't passed you by, as if being in the warmth of his arms dissolved all the pain and worry in your life. You just wanted time to freeze so you could stay there forever, just you and him.

"I counted the minutes until today. Our Fridays are sacred, but some weeks are so exhausting that they make it even more special," you smiled and patted Noah's cheek. "What do you want to do today?"

He kissed your forehead, the mustache he had invented to keep on lately tickling you slightly and making you giggle.

"I love our Fridays too. But there's one thing… the guys are organizing a gaming session tonight," Noah replied.

You pulled away from his embrace a little, just for you to see him more clearly, blinking your eyes a few times in a row. "But today?" you asked, confused. "Noah, it's our night."

Noah scratched the back of his head, knowing his explanation wouldn't go over well, but he tried to explain himself anyway.

"It's Jay's birthday. He's alone at the exchange and we want to give a little joy to his day. I promise it won't take long."

You understand that Jay is alone and he misses his friends, especially Noah since they've known each other for so long, but you can't hide your frustration and immediately cross your arms in disappointment.

"You're always talking to them, we hardly have time for each other."

"But we're together every week, we see each other all the time, and Jay? Look at his side, the guy's all alone there. I bet you don't want to feel alone."

You stand up, getting off Noah's lap and reply, still frustrated, "Alone? That's how you're leaving me, alone. You should pay attention to me. It's Friday, Noah, our day!"

He stands up, and although you love that look on his face, his already closed face gets on your nerves. You hated it when Noah did that.

"Fuck, am I not here? I don't leave you alone, have I ever left you alone? I understand that today is our day, I really do, but you could put yourself in other people's shoes a little," Noah sighs, trying not to be a jerk and get into an argument with you. He thinks of better words to say to you before he continues. "He needs it today, he's been feeling very lonely lately."

You exchange glances: from his side, the silent plea for you not to be as angry as you already seem to be; from yours, the growing tension and frustration. You sigh, not wanting to start a fight, but feeling deeply annoyed.

"Fine," you just give in, seriously. "But I'm not happy about it."

Noah kisses your lips and only replies, "I promise it'll be quick. You can stay in the room with me while I play, I don't want you to feel left out."

You enter the room together, but the atmosphere is still charged. Noah begins to set up the computer for the game while you sit on the bed, trying to hide your disappointment.

"Gotta call Emma so we can watch something on call. At least that way I won't be totally left out and I'll have someone to talk to."

"Sure, good idea. Just don't be too mean to the character on the show," he replies absent-mindedly, but trying to be nice.

"Don't worry, he'll have all our attention," you reply, giving him a cynical smile.

Noah nods, a little relieved, as you pick up the phone to call your friend. He sits down in his gaming chair, turning on the neon light in the room, and off the regular bedroom light to make the room comfortable for both of you. He adjusts the headset to start while you lie on the bed fiddling with your cell phone, clearly uncomfortable with the situation.

"Okay, guys, I'm here. Let's get started before Jay shows up."

You call your friend, and she somehow comes over to keep you company. You sit down on the bed with your laptop next to you and start watching the show. Noah, next to you, remains focused on the game, occasionally casting a furtive glance at you. A scene begins, highlighting the show's main character. He's handsome, wearing a shirt that, despite its formal appearance, is brightly colored and has some of its buttons undone, tight jeans, and aviator glasses that hide his deep brown eyes. But what really catches the eye is his distinctive mustache.

"Look at that man, that mustache is quite a sight," Emma jokes, her voice electronically present in the room. "This guy definitely knows how to use it to his advantage."

Noah, between the music playing and the laughter of his friends, hears you both burst out laughing, the sound echoing around the room, and he makes a point of very discreetly removing one side of the headset from his ear, curious to know why you're laughing.

"The mustache is like… a sign of confidence. I bet he must be amazing in bed."

"Totally! Do you think he's good in bed just because he has a mustache?"

"Absolutely! He must know exactly how to use it. Just think, a guy with a mustache like that must have tricks we can't even dream of."

Noah finds himself increasingly interested in the conversation and can't help but mute the sound of his headphones, trying his best to pay attention, one eyebrow raised in excitement to know how far your conversation is going, and just pretend to play.

"It must be the kind that takes your breath away in seconds," you say, unaware that Noah is listening. "The kind that knows what they're doing, the kind that's… experienced."

"A lot more than most. If a guy with a mustache like that paid attention to me, I wouldn't care about anything else, I'd just need him and a glass of water to live."

You laugh at Emma's comment, but then you look at Noah out of the corner of your eye and become serious again. "Yes, but some people prefer to play."

Noah continues with his temporarily forgotten game, pretending not to be hearing, but his expression with his back to you shows that he heard every word you said. "To play, huh?" He just moves his lips, speaking silently.

The conversation between you continues, full of laughter and bold comments about the character on the show. Noah keeps the microphone muted for long moments, discreetly observing the interaction.

The show ends and Emma says goodbye to you. Your phone vibrates with a message from your friend:

"It was fun, but I'm going to leave you to sort things out. Good luck!"

You reply with a few words: "Thanks. See you, Emma."

You get into bed, feeling a little better for the laughs with her, but still annoyed that Noah's game is taking longer than he promised.

"Good night, Noah," you say, turning your back on him, then mutter something inaudible, still slightly annoyed, but mostly frustrated. He should have at least warned you that the evening was going to be like this and that you'd be ready to do something else.

Noah doesn't answer, otherwise you might think he was listening the whole time. He sighs, knowing it will take an extra effort to get your attention again.

(…)

The night stretches on and Noah finally shuts down his computer and takes off his headset. He looks at you lying on your back, and even though you're asleep, he knows that you're clearly distant. Without forgetting how you've been thinking about the man in the series, he laughs softly, touches his own mustache, and something in him is ignited.

He slowly moves closer, snuggling up to you under the covers, already pushing your hair aside to make room to kiss your neck, deliberately brushing his facial hair. You slowly stir from the tickle you feel and finally wake up when you feel Noah's big hand playing with the nipple of your breast under your clothes.

"Noah…" you sigh, still sleepy. "What are you doing?"

He keeps tracing long kisses down your neck, making you shiver, and in a low, teasing voice he says in your ear, "You think I'm not paying attention, don't you? Those comments about the guy on the show… Do you think he could make you feel that way?"

Your sleep begins to dissipate as he kisses you, making you sigh, feeling your resistance melt away.

"Did you hear that? I was just kidding…" You turn your face to find his almond eyes staring at you with desire, your ass beginning to feel his bulge growing behind you.

He pulls the blanket off you and turns you over on the bed, kneeling in front of you and pulling off your shorts and panties together. He pushes your legs apart and you moan softly, already completely surrendered to the moment.

"Kidding?" His laugh makes you throb. "I'm going to show you that I'm much better than any guy you see on TV."

And he dives between your legs, ready to taste you, but mostly to tease you. He kisses one side of your groin, then the other, making a point of brushing his facial hair against you, noticing how wet and thirsty it makes you.

"Noah… Please…" you moan, trying to move your hips closer to Noah's mouth. He smiles smugly and runs his tongue along your folds, which are throbbing with excitement.

He turns his attention to your clit, sucking and sucking, making everything hotter and wetter. The hairs on his mustache, which you had just imagined tickling you while watching the show, only made you feel more pleasure. Noah tastes you like a hungry man and brings you closer and closer to coming apart.

"Look at you, you tremble every time I run my mustache over that needy pussy… I don't think I'll be shaving anytime soon. Do you want me to shave, babe?" he asks, laughing and rubbing his nose against you.

"N-no Noah, I don't want you to…" and you moan as you feel two of his long fingers penetrating you, unable to finish the sentence. "Noah, please…"

He is relentless in the way he moves his fingers inside you, knowing every point of you, knowing exactly what to do to turn you on. Without much effort, he feels you clenching against his fingers, your thighs shaking in spasms, and he hears your voice break into a loud moan calling out to him as you cum hard in his mouth.

He pulls away from you and kneels in front of your still-spread legs to appreciate your throbbing folds and your flushed, orgasmic face. "You're such a silly girl sometimes." He smiles and runs his fingers, which were inside you moments before, through his own mustache and ends up sucking on his own fingers. "This is for you to learn to appreciate what you have."

And then he just gets up and leaves the room, laughing at the incredulous way you look at him, trying his best to maintain the idiotic character he's just created, even though he knows he'll be buried inside of you in a few minutes, making you cum a few more times to live up to your special Friday.

Masterlist | Send me an ask to join my taglist

@lacy1986 @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @kenjipepsi1 @chey-h @concretejunglefm

#noah sebastian x reader #bad omens #noah sebastian #noah sebastian fic #bad omens fic #bad omens fanfic #fanfic #noah sebastian fanfic #luna writes

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solargeist · 8 months ago

Note

i keep mistaking some of ur kidxelqua art for ur grian art so i have to stop and read the captions/tags every time 😭😭 is there a fundamental difference im missing that would make it any easier

hi !!!!!!! no i understand it can be pretty confusing !! its pretty messy on my blog ahahah i'll try to explain them and their place in the AU

All the kid drawings are Xelqua ! Originally it was Grian, but as the character Xelqua developed, I changed it to him. When people send requests for kid Grian, i'm drawing Xelqua, as that is the AU.

This isn't 100% accurate as I forget to do it, but Grian and Xelqua part their hair differently, kid Xelqua does too. Xelqua's hair is always a bit longer. (Grian got a haircut when he joined the Watchers, thats why his hair parts different now in evoAU and HC, he just kept it shorter ! Xelqua used to wear his hair in a ponytail during his time with the Watchers.)

The reason why i say they're "technically the same" is bc Xelqua is just another Grian from a different timeline, he just has a different name. Xelqua only exists because this one Grian joined the Watchers, new possibilités opened new timelines, ones where he died, ones where he's a Listener instead, or ran away to different servers, or stayed. Xelqua is the only one to have reached Sainthood.

Because of this, Xelqua can hop around timelines, he usually just bugs other versions of himself, helping them, giving them tnt. He finds This Grian during s8 of HC, bugging him through the boatem void, briefly possessing him later, but hey ! water under the bridge !

Xelqua's timeline doesn't exist anymore after becoming That, but by becoming That he has essentially rewritten history in other timelines, solidifying himself as a saint of destruction, a destroyer, this is what the Watchers know him as, this is what evo Grian knew him as, even if Grian caused it--It already happened--Xelqua has always been here. (It makes Grian's head hurts when Xelqua explains this to him.)

Basically: Grian set off a chain reaction when he joined the Watchers, and that opened new universes, and in doing that, Xelqua is made.

Xelqua is powerful, but also very lonely and has a lot wrong with him, which is expected he spent many years with the Watchers. Xelqua can mimic any version of Grian he wants, but if he stays in that form for too long, he'll start to forget himself and instead think "Xelqua" is a patron, rather than himself. This is why kid Xelqua will usually praise the Saint Xelqua and be proud of his own name, he just doesn't know ! It takes a little while to remember himself and change back. This also happens in high stress, (bc of course it does, i love when a character loses control of their powers hahaha,) the memory is much worse if it happens from stress. You can't talk kid Xelqua out of this, it'll stress him out further and you'll just have a little god child throwing a temper tantrum then, never a good idea.

After s8 in HC EvoAU, Xelqua hangs around, popping up sometimes in s9, mostly in his adult watcher self. They don't get along too well at first, Xelqua has a little bit of bitterness over Grian having such a fun life, all these friends, needed, wanted..... But whatever ! Xisuma doesn't know how he keeps getting in, but Xelqua has been on good behaviour, so...... Shrug... Just let him visit sometimes....

Xelqua's version of the Watchers are gone, the unfortunate conséquences of becoming a destroyer, you kinda rip your own timeline apart. This, added with the fact that he is a cautionary tale in every other reality to Watchers, means if he tries to visit other versions of his Watcher family, they won't really know who he is, and just see something destructive and chaotic. If he wants to see Aether, he'll just... hop in a timeline and change himself into a kid and quickly forget what he's done. He's lonely, ok !!

Xelqua starts doing this kid bit on HC (late s9/early s10) too, he doesn't exactly mean to, but he does feel safe there. He eats Grian's food and takes over his couch and no one can get mad at him bc he is just a little kid--grian puts him in the corner. timeout. a few dead birds hit the roof as a result.

#KID XELQUA IS VERY MUCH YOTSUBA TO ME </33 ADGHJKAD #ask #kidxelqua #evoau #DOES THIS MAKE SENSE !!!!!!!!! i try to explain the timeline as best as i can but if its still confusing i can probably. clarify more #eovAU is 90% just my own ideas so you wont find a lot of this within Evo itself

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archermind · 1 year ago

Note

seen your post abt suggestions for a spencer reid fic, this has been marinating in my brain so pls bare with me. <3

spencer reid x aarons daughter! reader

maybe he forgets his lunch, and his daughter brings it in? or something along the lines of needing a tutor? ill take ANYTHING. bonus points if its fluffy and smutty

feel free to change anything!!!

-🃏

Arousal Theory

Spencer Reid x Aarons daughter!reader

Description: You are Aaron Hotchner’s only daughter. It is safe to say he is a little over protective of you. You have never been able to bring a guy friend home without your dad profiling them and scaring them away. The one guy he never thought to profile was his own co-worker, Spencer Reid.

Word count: 2,500 approx.

Content Warning: fluff and light smut, light choking, hair pulling, fingering, small age gap.

y/n/n = your nickname

Author note: omgomg! I'm so glad someone sent this request in! Don't worry anonymous, I too have had this scenario brewing in my head. I loved your suggestion, thank you for submitting it! I hope i have done your idea justice <3

You hated your dads job. Mainly because he was too good at it. Every boy you were ever remotely friends with, you weren't anymore. All because of Aaron Hotchner. Each time you invited a guy to your house, your dad kicked into his professional shoes and took it upon himself to profile the poor boy. No guy was ever good enough for you or some of their characteristics unnerved Hotch.

This was the reason why at 22 years old, you still had never had any romantic relationship. The most romance you received lately was with a $20 lovehoney sex toy you bought in a valentines sale. Now that is romance. Your days were spent scrolling through tumblr, ao3 and erotic ebooks - yet every time after finishing the romance novel that piqued your current interest, you felt like sleeping on the highway. You couldn't help but think… ‘If this is my life at 22, I'm going to be the lonely old cat lady by the age of 25’.

It was a casual Saturday, you stood within the kitchen as your cat purred lapping in and out of your legs as you prepared her food. You weren’t really a sociable person. You mainly spent your days studying, preparing late dinners for your dad and caring for your cat - cookie. It was the main reason you didn't stay in dorms for college, you couldn't stand others. Other people your age were out drinking or hooking up. You just simply didn’t have the energy to go out to a party every week.

Your feet padded along the tiled floor as you made your way to the fridge. Opening the door, you let out a gasp. Your dad had forgotten his lunch. The BAU day can get pretty long and you know your dad often gets so caught up in a case he forgets to eat. You grabbed the tub, a basic lunch packed inside of it. You lightly stifled a laugh, seeing your fathers poor excuse of a ‘nutritious’ lunch. Opening the tub you pulled out an apple, some crackers and cheese, along with a small sandwich. Enough to fill a five year old… not a hardworking, criminal catching 43 year old man.

Luckily, you had cooked too much cheesy spinach pasta for lunch. You packed Hotch a generous amount. Before putting it into a lunch bag, grabbing your keys and heading out of the door. After two tries of twisting the ignition key for your car, it suddenly kicked into motion. With winter approaching, your old beat up car was struggling. The drive wasn’t too long fortunately. Getting a space in the small Quantico parking lot was your greatest problem.

You made your way through the reception area of the building, confidently walking towards the elevator. However, you were abruptly stopped in your tracks after seeing the ‘out of order’ sign. You sighed making your way over to the stairwell. You saw someone entering through the stairwell door and realized the doors to the stairs were key card accessed.

“HOLD THE DOOR PLEASE!” you yelled, running towards the boy who held the door.

“Sorry, but you have to have an access card to be allowed through” the boy spoke, gesturing to his key card.

You squint your eyes to read his name before responding with a coy smile.

“Well actually… spencer.” you smiled at him, “i have to just quickly drop off my dads lunch, so could you be a sweetheart and just let me through?”

He shifted anxiously as you battered your eyelashes at him, trying your hardest to persuade the older boy.

“I guess so..” he responded, looking your impatient demeanor up and down “what floor are you heading to?”

“Floor four” you stated quickly as you rushed toward the steps, spencer hot on your trail

“That's good because I actually am too!” Spencer gleefully responded as you hummed in surprise.

You were slightly short of breath by the time you reached the fourth floor. Spencer however was still just as energetic as before. All throughout the walk up the stairs, he rambled about which tourist attraction has the most steps in the U.S after you made a single complaint about the elevator being out of order.

“Here we are,” spencer opened the door “who is your da-”

“Y/N/N?” Hotch exclaimed, coming up to you with his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Hey dad, I came here to bring you lunch… you forgot yours” you pointed out with a laugh

“Oh? I didn't realize” he gratefully took the tub from your grasp, “i see you have met Dr. Spencer Reid”

You and Spencer both looked toward each other. You gave him a polite smile and then nodded sweetly to your dad.

“I was just talking to Spencer this morning about how you could use his extensive knowledge to support you in your studies” he spoke confidently, yet.. You found yourself on the verge of protesting. As you opened your mouth, Hotch began again…

“He already said yes.”

Great.

You anxiously bit your nails and paced just behind the front door, awaiting the moment Spencer would knock. From the moment you both met, you thought he was handsome. The way his brown soft looking curls were all laid messy. The way his honey brown eyes stared focused on every point of your face, as you spoke. It made you want to know him more. Everything about Dr Spencer Reid intrigued you.

A knock broke your train of thought- or more like your fantasy imagination about your dads Co-worker. It sent a shock through you. You shook your arms attempting to get rid of your nerves. It is just a 26 year old man coming to help you study. Nothing else… nothing more. You gave yourself one last look in the mirror to check if you looked good - to study of course

You death gripped the handle of the front door and pulled it open to see Spencer stood there. He wore a hat, gloves and scarf to help protect him from the cold brittle air. It made you feel terrible for leaving him that extra few minutes in the cold. You smiled at him, motioning him to come into your home.

“Hotch told me you were studying psychology” he questioned, walking into the dining room.

“Uh… yea i am” you followed him through to the dining room, “would you like a hot chocolate?” you questioned him.

“I actually don't like hot chocolate” Spencer stated, giving a soft smile to lessen the harsh deny of your polite gesture.

“Neither do i…” you bit your bottom lip as you looked at him blushing. “Coffee?”

“Please,” Spencer smiled.

As you added the sugars into the coffees, you heard cookie meowing from the dining room. You grasped the coffees, making your way back to spencer. To your surprise Cookie had jumped onto Spencer's knee and began kneading his leg, purring. You placed the coffees down and laughed at her kitten-like attitude for Spencer, a random stranger. Until you saw how uncomfortable Reid was. You quickly shoo’d her off of him.

Time passed, the studying was long and quite boring . Spencer helped you create numerous flash cards to help you study and you both went through them. While studying, small talk was going on - you enjoyed getting to know Spencer. He was such an interesting person that you wished to know him more and more, deeper and deeper.

“I have an idea, for each question on these cards i guess right you get to ask me a question?” spencer suggested

You smirked in response, it was a good trade. He got to tutor me and I got to question him.

“Okay” you grinned

The questions were basic. ‘What is your favorite part of your job?’, ‘Who is your favorite co-worker?’, ‘what is your favorite book?’. You were actually making an effort in answering these silly little cards. However, you were never asking the questions you really wanted to ask… more about his personal life.

“What is the arousal theory?” Reid asked

“to be the physiological state of being aware, alert, awake or attentive” you spoke confidently

“Correct!” he shouted

“Okay…” you spoke slowly and playfully

you thought long and hard about what you wanted to know about Spencer, your mind immediately going to the one and only thing you were desperate to know. Although it was wildly inappropriate to ask your dad’s co-worker, you just couldn't help yourself.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” you spoke mumbled and shy.

“No.” he answered sharply, “do you- uh… have a boyfriend?” he blushed.

It was new year's eve and you were currently dressed in a silver satin dress. You felt confident but nervous as you stood beside your dad, hugging a tub of home baked cookies on the doorstep of Rossi’s house. He had invited hotch and you over to his annual new year party. You knew Spencer was going to be there hence why you dressed at your best.

Little to your fathers knowledge, you and Spence had grown closer and closer. Although you both were nothing serious. You could feel the tension between you both with every brush of your hands, sip of coffee and longing stare. You couldn't be more grateful for your weekly study sessions, you were gaining more marks on each essay and exam - all thanks to spencer.

Walking into the party, you were engulfed in hugs from Hotch’s co-workers. Everyone was so kind. You listened to the group of friends laugh and joke. Yet, you couldn’t help but notice Spencer was missing from the large tight-knit group. You glanced around the room, in search of the man you were obsessed with. You couldn’t help but worry that he wasn't here at all.

“I'm going to go grab a drink” you informed hotch before rushing off into the crowd. You were in search of a beverage and a smartass man who took up every inch of your thoughts. You pushed past small crowds making your way to the drinks table. Your eyes scanned the room, still no sign of Reid.

“You look beautiful Y/N” a voice whispered in your ear.

You jumped slightly at the hot breath on your neck sending shivers down your spine. You smiled instantly knowing exactly who it was behind you. You quickly spun around and threw your arms around his neck, giving him the tightest hug. He smelled good and you found yourself sinking further into his arms for longer.

“Should we get away from the crowds” you asked him, looking up at him, remembering a discussion you had about his hate for big crowds during a study session.

He nodded and swiftly guided you through Rossi’s home and up the stairs to a bathroom. You giggled as he closed and locked the door. You loved sneaking around to have some privacy for whatever it was going on between you both. It made you feel special and giddy for the tall boy who you had grown so close to. Spencer now towered over you as he stepped closer, placing his hands on your waist and lifting you onto the giant bathroom counter.

The room was silent but the tension was thick. You licked your lips as they went dry from anticipation for anything to happen. You stared up at him as Spencer tucked a stray strand of hair that fell in front of your face behind your ear. You have never wanted a man more and it was a lot for you to admit. You felt vulnerable under his touch and gaze. You and Spencer searched in eachothers eyes, looking for any indication in each other's stare if you both felt the same way.

You found yourself leaning into the temptation and to him. Spencer was quick to close the gap. You both kissed passionately and slowly, enjoying the moment that had been a long time coming. You smiled as he pulled away.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long Y/N” he blushed at his confession

“I wish you didn’t wait so long Spence”

You kissed him again and felt his hand go to your neck, applying light pressure. You moaned at the contact. Slowly Spencer began to pepper kisses along your jawline. You hummed at his actions. You felt yourself grow with more need for him. Both of your breathing became heavy as your lust and want for each other grew stronger. You felt Spencer's hand trail up your thigh as his tongue played with yours in a heated make out. You pulled away and looked down as his hand grazed your clothed pussy. You were soaked for him and ready for his touch but so hesitant. You didn’t want this to be a one time thing, no matter how much you wanted this.

“Is this okay Y/N?” Spencer questioned you concerned for the worried look you held in your expression.

“Yes Spencer p-please” you whined needy, pushing the negative thoughts away.

Quickly Spencer pushed your panties aside, you gasped at the sudden touch of his cold fingers against your heat. He began stroking small circles on your clit causing your head to fall back from the pleasure. He bit back a smirk at the reaction you had for his touch. You whined as you felt a finger brush near your entrance.

“You have to be quiet baby” he spoke gently, shushing you before plunging his fingers into you.

You moaned in response and then Spencer clasped his spare hand over your mouth to try and muffle the reaction coming from you, not wanting your father and his boss to know what you both were getting up to in his co-workers bathroom. He kept the pumping of his fingers at a steady rhythm as his thumb massaged circles on your clit. Spencer's hot mouth went to your neck biting and sucking at the skin. It seemed your entire body was sensitive for him. Every touch, kiss, and word from him caused an elicit reaction.

You began to ride his hand and fingers faster as you grew closer to your finish. While he sped up the thrusts of his fingers, you could hear the countdown to new year about to start. Spencer knew you were about to cum and instantly knew what he wanted from you.

“You only cum when i want you to” spencer growled his order into your ear

your legs and body began to shake from the overwhelming knot of pleasure in your stomach. Your body writhed and wriggled against the counter as his thumb applied pressure to your sensitive overstimulated clit. You were a mess, dripping with arousal.

10… 9… 8… 7… 6… 5… 4… 3…

“Hold it Y/N!” Spencer grunted

2..

“Look at you such a good girl Y/N” he praised, stroking your hair out of your face but grabbing a fistful and pulling your head back to look at him….

1…

“Cum for me!” Spencer begged as he watched you come undone from his touch.

You whined from your climax. Trying your hardest to gain the full ability of your mind as it was going wild from your overstimulation. Spencer kissed your forehead as your chest heaved up and down. You smiled letting out a light laugh.

“Happy new year Spence” you smiled into his kiss

“What a way to come into the new year Y/N”

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illdowhatiwantthanks · 9 months ago

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Hi, honey! Could you please write something about Emily Prentiss having a teenage daughter who sh’s and Em finds out? I know you wrote something similar and it’s perfectly okay if you feel like this is too repetitive <3 Ps; you’re so incredible and I aspire to be able to write like you do!! <3

Here you go, Anon! It's true, I've had a lot of SH-related requests recently, but I really don't mind the repetition. If it's something people want more of, and it helps them feel safe and heard and loved, I'm happy to write it. ❤️ (and thank you so much I'm so flattered! <3)

Tiny

Emily Prentiss x daughter!reader Warnings: self-harm, discussion of self-harm and self-harm tools, mental illness, internalized homophobia, explicit language (please let me know if I've missed anything!) Word count: 1.8k

Summary: After your best friend moves away, you start to struggle with depression, loneliness, and self-harm. You do a pretty good job of hiding it for a while but your mom is a profiler after all.

You’d been so good, so good, at hiding it. Long sleeves. Bracelets. You kept the tiny, sharp travel scissors in your locker at school, disguised in a bag with fabric and buttons and needles. A sewing project, you always said if anyone asked. But no one asked.

The truth of the matter was that you didn’t have many friends. And Sophia, your best friend since second grade, had moved to Denver last year for her dad’s job. You’d sworn to keep in touch, sworn that you’d stay best friends no matter what. And you’d tried, you’d really tried. But the daily texts had turned into weekly texts. The every-other-night FaceTime calls became every-other-month. And every time you talked to her, it seemed like her life was better than ever. She had new friends. A new soccer team. Even a boyfriend. It seemed like every time you called her, she was with him.

It hurt when you realized that Sophia liked spending time with her new boyfriend more than spending time with you. But it had hurt even more to examine your own jealousy, your own inexplicable rage at her moving on, making new friends, having new experiences. The reality–that you liked Sophia as more than a friend–hit you like a gut punch. And you didn’t know who to talk to about it. Normally, you’d talk to Sophia. But you couldn’t talk to her about this. Honestly, you weren’t even sure you were good enough friends to talk about boys or girls or whoever anymore. She’d drifted away and left you behind.

You thought about talking to your mom–she’d dated girls. But she was so busy with work, so stressed. She tried really hard not to let on when she was home, but you could see how tired she was, how she nodded blankly when you told her about your day, her mind elsewhere. No doubt with the hundreds of psychopaths and murderers she investigated every day.

You didn’t know who you were or what you were. You just knew that you were lonely and hurt and so deeply confused. There were other LGBTQ+ kids at school, but they’d all been out since middle school. They had that unbreakable comradery that queer kids who flock together often have. And you’d missed it.

All the confusion, all the hurt, all the feelings, roiled inside you until there was no place for it to go except out. The first time you’d drawn the scissors across your forearm, the blood had surprised you, as had the brief moment where there was blood but no pain. But when the pain did hit, it felt like a balloon had popped, like something that had been growing and growing and pressing in on you had shrunk back down to a manageable size.

Of course, the shame followed. Of course, you felt terrible, guilty, ashamed, sick to your stomach. Of course, you cried when you thought about what your mom would say if she saw it, what Sophia would say. But even worse, you knew they’d ask why. And you were terrified to talk about why. So you put on your long sleeves. You started wearing bracelets. And you hoped that no one would notice.

But that night, after a quick dinner of takeout pizza and Caesar salad, your mom had asked you to wash up and, without thinking, you’d rolled up your sleeves to do the dishes.

“Oh my god!” your mom exclaimed, rushing to your side. “What happened to your arm!?”

It was so stupid. You’d been so careful. You’d kept this a secret for months and now, with just one fuck-up, you’d ruined it.

“Nothing!” you cried, squirming out of her grip. “I just… I scratched myself, that’s all.”

But your mom wasn’t stupid. She spoke six languages. She headed an FBI unit. She was the smartest person you knew. She profiled people for a living. And she could tell when you were lying.

“Y/N!” she chastised, grabbing onto your arms hard. She'd also trained in hand-to-hand combat so you were really no match for her.

She turned your wrists around so she could see the inside of your arms, and the look on her face nearly broke you. It was sadness, it was guilt, it was shock and disbelief and worry, so much worry. You stared at the ceiling, willing yourself not to cry, mouth clamped shut.

“Y/N,” she said, quieter, running a gentle thumb along your forearms. “Tiny, look at me.” A tear dripped down your cheek. She didn’t call you Tiny much these days. And you always rolled your eyes when she did. It was what she’d called you when you were little. I love you, Tiny. You're so strong, Tiny! You can do it! Everything’s gonna be okay, Tiny.

You sniffed and lowered your head to look at her, more tears falling. You saw that your mom had tears in her eyes, too, and it made you feel awful.

“How long have you been hurting yourself?” she asked, her voice calm and gentle, full of emotion.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled, sniffling. “Maybe like… six months?”

She let out a shaky sigh and nodded. “Okay,” she said, more to herself than to you. “Okay.” After a moment, she drew you into her, and you pressed your face into her chest, finally letting yourself cry.

“It’s okay, honey,” she cooed, smoothing your hair as she hugged you. “It’s gonna be okay.”

When your sobs had calmed to hiccups, you emerged, face red and blotchy. Your mom wiped your face with her hands and motioned to the kitchen table. “This might be hard for you,” she started, looking at you earnestly. “But we need to talk about it. Go ahead and sit down. I’m gonna make us some tea.”

You took deep, soothing breaths as your mom set a steeping cup of chamomile in front of you, holding her own close to her chest.

“Are you mad at me?” you whispered, scared of the conversation to come.

“No, baby,” she assured you, squeezing your hand. “I’m not mad. I’m worried about you, that’s all.”

You nodded.

“Now, first things first,” she began, and you winced, sure she was going to take something away from you or ground you or something. “Do you know how to properly clean and dress a cut like that?”

You blinked in surprise. “Uh…” You were floundering. This is not where you expected this conversation to go. “I mean, I put band-aids on them.”

“Yeah, no,” your mom said, taking out her phone and making a note. “We’re gonna get you some alcohol sterilizer. Let’s see… Neosporin, gauze bandages. Probably butterfly bandages too, just in case. And whatever it is that you’re using for… this… you need to be sanitizing it before you use it.”

Your jaw dropped and you stared at her. “You don’t… want me to stop?”

She clicked the phone shut and stared purposefully at you. “Oh, no. Hear me loud and clear. I absolutely want you to stop. But… from what I know about self-harm, it’s a process. It might take some time. You might have relapses. And I just want you to be as safe as you can in recovery.”

“Thanks, Mom,” you said quietly, surprised at her response. You hadn’t really thought about being safe while cutting. Since cutting itself wasn’t exactly safe. Trust your mom to always be looking for ways to take care of you.

Your mom pursed her lips for a moment, as if thinking about how to proceed. And, once again, you were terrified that she was going to make you feel worse somehow, even if she didn’t mean to.

“It’s okay,” she stuttered, breathing out heavily, “if you don’t want to talk to me about what’s making you want to do this, but you need to talk to somebody. So tomorrow I’m gonna make some phone calls and we’re gonna find a therapist. And if your therapist recommends it, we might need to find you a psychiatric facility for a little bit.”

Ice-cold panic flooded your veins. “No, Mom, please!”

“Hey, hey,” she said, grabbing your hands. “It is not a punishment. There is nothing wrong or shameful about your brain needing some help, okay? Even if it’s scary, we’re gonna do what we need to do to help you get better. Yes?”

You exhaled and nodded.

“Okay. So that’s what we’re gonna do.”

You were both silent for a moment, sipping your tea. You wished you could tell what your mom was thinking. You wished you could tell her what you were thinking. You so desperately wanted to tell someone. And you were scared. Scared that your mom would never look at you the same again. Scared that you’d never again be that same little girl, her Tiny. There was too much wrong with you.

You sniffled as your eyes filled with tears again. “Mom?” you squeaked.

“Yeah, honey?”

You asked what you were most afraid to ask. “Do you still love me?”

“Oh, baby,” she said, scooting her chair toward you and wrapping you in her arms. “Of course I do. I love you so much. I’ll always love you. You’re my little girl, you’re my Tiny.”

Your shoulders shook as you wept. “I just feel…” you cried. “I just feel like no one really loves me.”

“That’s just not true,” your mom said, rubbing your back. “I love you. All your aunts and uncles at the BAU love you. What about Sophia? She loves you.”

You cried even harder. “No, she doesn’t, Mom.”

Your mom brushed your hair away from her face. “What are you talking about? You talk all the time.”

And when you finally said it, it felt like a weight off your shoulders, like you’d been carrying a mountain for months and someone had finally lifted it away. You shook as you spoke. “She doesn’t love me like I love her.”

Understanding flooded your mom’s face. She nodded, and you could tell by the look on her face, by the empathy in her eyes, by the way she squeezed your hand and cupped your face and pursed her lips that she knew. She knew what it was like. She knew the confusion and the hurt and the self-hatred. She knew it all.

And it was almost better that she didn’t say anything. Anything at all. She just looked at you and understood. She just brushed your tears away with her thumb and let you finish crying. And when your sobs subsided, she held your hand. And she kept holding it. And after a while, she brushed your hair out of your face and said, “Everything’s gonna be okay, Tiny. I promise.”

And you knew–because she was your mom, because she was her, because she loved you and you loved her–that it would be.

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x daughter!reader #emily prentiss fanfic #hurt/comfort #emily prentiss imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic

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nariism · 1 year ago

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gojo satoru believes that all good things come in twos.

he was the second half of his best friend, after all— part of a wandering soul somewhere else in japan spouting some bullshit about retribution. he hasn't quite been the same since 2009.

it wasn't always this way. never before had he been so endeared, so enchanted by the prospect of keeping things together just for the sake of it.

he remembers clearly the day this hyperfixation started, actually: a warm summer sunday in sagae with you dragging him along through the local fruit market. you picked out a bag of cherries, holding up a twin pair of them and dangling them in his face.

"they're sweeter here," you told him with such a fascinated expression, completely enamoured by the ruby jewels held between your fingers. and he savoured that moment, as mundane as it was, because your eyes were shining in adoration at such a perfect pair of cherries.

(also, when you ate them your lips stained a pretty shade of red that made him salivate.)

he realized that things felt more whole in pairs: two hands cupping his face, two charms dangling from your neck, two cherries infinitely sweeter than one. two hearts, two souls, two people who both belong and don't belong in such a wicked world cradling each other with a shared breath.

gojo felt lonely without another— in the time between geto's defection and your reunion, he missed the feeling of being the other half of a duo. nanami buried himself into work. shoko fared no better. he was utterly, shamefully alone.

he was a new person when you returned to him. a lot of things had changed. but despite the distance and the slow untwining of your lives over the years, you knew gojo to be stubborn more than anything.

"two dogs are better than one," he argued when megumi was first learning how to control his cursed technique.

"he's just a kid. making him responsible for one, let alone two, is crazy!"

"i'm telling you, megumi is no pushover! you'll see."

he was right. sometimes (and only sometimes) he does know better. two was better than one.

you could see it in megumi's face when both dogs pounced on him, licking him and wagging their tails. in fact, it was probably the first time you'd ever seen the kid smile at all.

so you went along with gojo, indulged him whenever he reached for two things instead of one: two boxes of juice from the convenience store fridge, two fingers locked together while you walk, two earbuds split between you so you can sing together. two hearts, two souls, two blue eyes fluttering shut when he leans in to kiss you.

when he asked you to move in with him, you weren't surprised in the least. you were also not surprised to see how he set things up around the house, nothing lonely and everything in a pair. gojo feels like you think he's insane. he might be.

being with you made him feel as normal as gojo satoru could ever feel in this life— breathing no longer hurt like water filling his lungs. it was as natural as you basking in the rising sun every morning. living didn't need to be justified anymore. he wasn't obligated to be the strongest. he just needed to exist in your warmth.

things make sense in twos. the world is less gloomy with you by his side.

it's unspoken between you, but you oblige to his strange fixation anyways: two slices of peanut butter on toast in the morning, two stars atop a christmas tree, two picture frames on every side table. two hearts, two souls, two people being each other's reason to keep pushing.

he thinks he loves you a foolish amount. knows he shouldn't be putting all his eggs into one basket. he might be untouchable, but you aren't.

it's inevitable. one day, gojo satoru will be alone again.

and it's a fair exchange for power; a curse he wishes he was never born with. if he had the choice, he would have picked you over limitless power without a moment's pause.

he doesn't have the choice. unlucky.

all he can really do is let you cup his face. feed him cherries. argue over how to raise megumi and tsumiki and live in your little fantasy of pretending to be a family. all he can do is cherish the time you have left together, regardless of how long. all he can do is hope you'll say yes.

two hearts, two souls, two matching rings (one white, one black; he was poetic that way). one meant for him, and the other meant for you— a promise to keep and to break.

he doesn’t care. you and him make the best pair he can think of, no matter how fleeting.

#— whispers in the wind ✧#if you recognize this as what was supposed to be the sae fic i changed my mind #it fits gojo better #gojo satoru #gojou satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jjk x y/n

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ceilidho · 10 months ago

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why is your brain so wrinkly i'm eating up your ideas and thoughts about the cod boys in the fallout universe.

just ghost being unapologetically unbothered in the wastelands, soap being a raider because he's a wild man that needs something to do, price as a CULT LEADER (i eat that up every time) and our poor vault dweller gaz i just UGH

Ghost just lives on his own, eats whatever he can, sells the remains of whatever happened upon his property in town, and then uses that extra income on RadAway. he's either full ghoul or just deformed and deteriorating, but in either case he still wears the mask, and in this 'verse the skull on it is real. a grisly little memento of someone who maybe got too close to killing him. he catches you wandering a bit too close to his property, dehydrated and hallucinating because you've been out on your own for too long and rather than killing you, he hogties you and drags you home. it gets lonely without a pet to call his own.

Soap is a scavenger/raider who's been travelling with the same band of raiders for several months. before that he was on his own for a spell and before that he was in a much larger group that dissolved due to in fighting (dissolved = bloodbath, very few made it out). when his group breaks into your vault and kills most of the people inside, he takes you as his own and guards you jealously, territorially. bites you in order to put his mark on you. he makes you bunk with him and gets vicious mad when you stray too far from him because it's not safe. it gets to a point where he's too paranoid to go on raids anymore because he can't trust you to be on your own and he also doesn't want you coming with them and getting hurt. tells the group he's leaving and goes to take you with him and when they refuse to let him take whats "theirs" (aka anything they took from the vaults), he snaps and kills all of them

Gaz is a vault dweller who volunteered to come to the surface after his community's vault door failed, forced to scour the wastelands and nearby towns for replacement parts. when he comes across you working as a freelance mechanic, extremely taciturn and hard to get to know, he can't help but bring you back with him when you help him acquire the parts that he's been looking for, convincing himself that kidnapping you is for the greater good. he'll be able to give you a proper life free of stress and scarcity back in the vault, and you'll be able to ensure that the door never, ever opens again.

Price is the overseer of a vault that over the years has gradually devolved into what most would consider a cult. it's only too bad that there's no one objective enough to label it as such. his vault is also part of a dual vault system similar to vaults 31/32/33, but the two vaults haven't had any communication in the last two hundred years, so the other vault has no idea what's become of Price's vault. it's only too bad that due to a catastrophic blight in your vault, you're the only survivor of a plague that wiped out your entire community, forcing you to enact the emergency protocol and contact the vault adjacent to yours. Price is quick to welcome you in with open arms, but you only start to feel a bit uncomfortable when the other inhabitants start making comments about how nice it'll be to have a new resident as they've been lacking members of "good breeding stock". you don't like the way Price hums in agreement when someone brings that up at the welcome feast.

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fhrlclln · 5 months ago

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afterlife buddy | jason mendoza

SUMMARY -> your lonely life doesn't end on earth, but it reaches the afterlife. luckily, you have jason, right? even though he has his soulmate in the good place.

jason mendoza x fem! reader

masterlist

GENRE -> nsfw/smut

WARNINGS -> unprotected p in v, gentle sex, emotional hurt, confessions of feelings, mentions of drugs & smoking

WC -> 3.8k

a/n: writing his character is literally the hardest thing i’ve done lmaoooo. he’s so unique that i actually fear i didn’t embodied him accurately so warning he’s a little ooc!! (in my view) and i feel like jason is a great smoke buddy lmao. hope y'all like this!

likes, comments and reposts are greatly appreciated !! <3

enjoy !!

being dead sucked.

that’s what you are thinking right now as you lie on your bed alone in your room. smoking a vape pen that janet had miraculously given you in a split second the moment you curiously asked if you could have one discreetly. well, maybe that’s one good thing about being in the afterlife… you won’t pay for your vape juices anymore. you had been in “the good place” or the afterlife for about a week. at first, you knew you weren’t supposed to be here. there was nothing that you could think of. you did something perfect to earn your place in this “heaven,” as michael had broadly said when your eyes opened and you were in that waiting room.

maybe being dead didn't really sucked. maybe you were just kind of disappointed, really. as you were welcomed into the good place, the only thing michael had said that had maybe upseted you was in fact, you apparently don't have a soulmate.

which... made you ponder for a moment how in the world did it come to that? back in your life on earth, you were always alone, in a sense. you always thought that everything ended in every relationship you had, that maybe it was just destiny leading you to your soulmate. that maybe your special someone was coming to you at any point in your dreadful life back on earth. yet, being dead now, you had thought that maybe your soulmate was here as well.

which, unfortunately, not as well.

michael had put it in a light and gentle explanation that rarely people wouldn't have a soulmate. sporadic it is, as he puts it to you in a nauseating but sympathetic tone that you somehow loathed. all you could now do was put on a smile and nod in understanding and eventually move on because you're dead, after all. and maybe the worst part of being dead was after michael had explained to you that you're all alone in a good place. after the opening orientation, he introduced you to the many people in the neighborhood and their soulmates. you were introduced to eleanor and chidi, then to tahani and her soulmate, the silent monk jianyu.

or rather... jason mendoza.

a lot of things happened after your first day in the good place. you obviously were self-aware that you weren't supposed to be here. things did start to get weird after tahani's welcoming party for the whole neighborhood and the incident in the heart of the town. you thought for a moment that it might be you who was causing the unexplained glitches happening, and that's when you met another soul who also thinks they aren't supposed to be here either, eleanor shellstrop. after that, that's when you met jason; he as well wasn't supposed to be in a good place either.

your mouth feels dry, and even in the afterlife, you still get cottonmouth from overusing your puffs. this is torture. you think to yourself as you sit up, wondering if you should have agreed to be in chidi's ethics class. you don't really care if you are going to be sent to the bad place. where did you even belong, really?

you close your eyes, dropping your vape pen on your chest as you let out a tired sigh. you reel into the silence of your home, the dimness of the room shielding away the light, making it feel like you are back in your own lonely home on earth. the overwhelming feeling is still there, it never goes away. but your moment of loneliness is interrupted when you hear the front door open loudly.

"i'm not interested, eleanor. please." you immediately say before the visitor can say something.

"hey! cool, you have a vape!" your eyes shot open to see jason come in, dressed in his cream monk clothes. there's a grin spread across his face as he points to your vape pen. "can i take a hit?"

"oh, it's you." you chuckled, and he seemed puzzled at your acknowledgment towards him.

"why? is there another jason here!?" he says, looking around quickly, which makes you laugh out loud.

"here." you sit up, handing him your vape, and he immediately takes it from your hands, sitting next to you. "there's no other you, jason. it's only you." you reassure him, no matter how dumb it sounds.

"good!” he takes a puff, then sighing out the vapor in complete relaxation. “but having another me would be so dope, dude. imagine, if they find out i’m not supposed to be here, then i’ll turn the other jason in so i won’t go to the bad place.”

“that sounds like a plan. but you’ll turn him in?” you raise your brow as he takes another hit.

“yeah, homie! if i turn him in, it means i did something good… so, technically i did something good!” he smiled widely, you chuckled, shaking your head. witnessing him be himself was actually a refreshing thing you are feeling now.

“but that would mean michael will have to send you to the bad place too… because technically you’re also jason?” you hummed and his brows furrow at that, processing it. he looks cute thinking deeply. you thought as he hands your vape back.

“oh…” he frowns. “that sucks.”

“it does.” you nod, taking a hit.

“man, why does everything have to be so hard! you know, whenever i had a problem, i always throw a molotov to get rid of it. but chidi and eleanor said that was stupid.” you almost cough out the vapor you’re inhaling, surprised at that.

“a molotov?” you giggled, finding it funny. it seemed arson was his solution to all his problems… and concerning.

“yeah! you should try throwing one, homie. i swear, it’s a game changer because your previous problem turns into a new one! so, you don’t have to worry about your old problem anymore.” he explained.

“that’s… oddly effective, actually.” you think about it. jason’s eyes sparkled at that as he turns to you.

“i could show you how to do it, dude! we can start throwing it at michael’s office! the powerhouse of our problems!” he says excitedly. “this will be so dope. maybe janet has something i can light up, this will be so lit.”

he stands up, ready to call on janet. your eyes widened and you pulled him back to the bed. arson was not at your top list for the moment of trying to avoid being sent to the bad place.

“woah!” you say, and he looks at you confused.

“okay, calm down, jason. we’ll do that if everything else fails.” you reassured him, but lying that you’re actually not really planning on doing that with him. even though he’s so sweet to offer you to teach you how to do it, in a way even if it was borderline crazy.

“this sucks. i thought being in the good place won’t suck.” he pouts, sitting next to you.

"what brings you here, jason?" you finally ask him, his frown still plastered across his face as he looks at you. he fiddles with his fingers as you hand him your vape.

"eleanor said that i should go to you so you can finally join us."

you sigh, lying on your bed. "tell her i'm good. thanks."

"you're not good... you're you." he emphasized with puppy eyes, and you laughed. "so you're not gonna come with us?"

"no." you shake your head. "what's the point of learning to be good when i'm supposed to be in the bad place?"

"you get to be in the good place." he responds, taking a hit.

"i don't know, jason." you shrugged, looking at the ceiling blankly. "that doesn't mean i belong here."

"you do belong here!" he suddenly argues, looking over to your laid figure. "you're kind and nice to me. eleanor says i'm an idiot... but you don't think i'm an idiot, right?"

your hearts skips a beat at that. "no, jason. i don't think you're an idiot." you smiled.

"you sure you don't want to come with me?" he pouts.

"i'm okay right here."

"then i'll stay here with you." he decides, lying beside you. you feel the bed dip on your side as you turn your head to look at him, your own heart fluttering at his kindness. "I'll be your afterlife buddy or homie."

"afterlife buddy, huh?" you smiled at that. "i like that."

you two just lay there on your bed without thinking about the main problem. casually passing the vape pen back and forth while talking about random things, very random things from jason. you learned he was a dj from jacksonville, florida. he loves buffalo wings, he sold drugs to college students, loves the jacksonville jaguars, and did pretty stupid things, but you listened nonetheless. you actually opened up a bit about what happened in your life. he listened, and everything felt like at that moment, you weren't thinking about your situation right now.

"what's it like having a soulmate?" you ask him now as you blow a ring out of your mouth afterward with the vapor. jason hums as you pass him back the vape.

"i don't know. tahani doesn't know i'm not supposed to be here... but i guess living in her mansion was the dopest part." he says.

"do you think tahani's really your soulmate?" you shyly asked, ignoring the lingering jealousy you have for them.

"i always thought ariana grande was going to be my soulmate." he genuinely said, trying to mimic how you puff out rings but failed. you giggled at that and fell silent. you ignore that bitter feeling that's nagging you. you grab the vape from him, opting to teach him how to do the trick rather than to be affected by the notion that you don't have a soulmate.

"here. you put your mouth into an 'o' shape." you say, adjusting your position to lay on your stomach as he watches you take a puff. "then like, slowly exhale while your tongue and jaw push the vapor out."

"cool." he stares at you as you puff several rings out. you hand it back to him, and he tries it, but he is too fast to exhale, and his mouth is a little bit wider than what you showed him, making the rings not stick out.

"almost!" you laugh at him as you scoot over to teach him how. "put your mouth like this."

your a bit closer to him, making your arm brush against his while your hand goes to his lips. your face an inch above his, so close. he watches you guide him, your finger brushing lightly against his lower lip as you softly guide him to make his 'o' shaped mouth into what you showed him. you stare at his lips, wondering how lucky tahani must be with him.

"and there." you say, dropping your hand to his chest. jason's eyes shyly avert away for a moment from you, something in him bothering him, but he utters it out nonetheless.

"what if i was your soulmate?"

you're stunned for a moment, realizing how close you are to him. you stutter for a moment while his eyes go wide and expecting, as if he's looking at a pikachu balloon he desperately wants. what if? that question of his rings through your head? there's hope in your heart for a moment. but... you shake your head sadly. that would be unlikely.

"jason..." you're about to argue, but he cuts you off.

"i think so." he says, staring into your eyes. you don't know what to say, looking at his puppy face, feeling like a fool. you don't know... do you deserve jason to be your soulmate? you blink back to reality.

"you don't have to cheer me up because i don't have one." you willed yourself to detach from him, missing his warmth. you sat up, averting his gaze. jason frowns, confused as to why you seemed so sad at that.

"but-"

"you should go now. i think eleanor and chidi are looking for you." you almost want to strangle yourself for dismissing him like that. there you are again, always avoiding what's right before you. jason sits up, this time he doesn't know what to say. he stands up, confused and sad, but he respects your wish to be alone now. your back is turned to him, and you wince when you hear him leave. your heart ached, and the loneliness creeped back into your room. hugging you in the darkness.

if only. you think hopelessly, lying back down. if fucking only.

・゜゜・．

fuck.

your fingers dig into the flesh of your lap, now that eleanor has officially told the entire neighborhood including michael, about her not belonging here has you on edge lately. while you did escape from being interrogated in michael's office that day, that hasn't been the only thing that has been bugging you.

jason isn't talking to you.

you feel like a loser, a fool, and an idiot. should you have just agreed with him that day? the only person you actually talk to has decided to ignore your presence, which was very unlikely of jason since you had met his real self than jianyu. you want to ask chidi for help... but he has his dilemma now with tahani and eleanor. who would you call to?

"janet!" you immediately blurt out of desperation. you hoped her rebooting was in the middle since you really need her right now.

"hi, there!" janet pops up in front of you. you jump in your place, still unused to her sudden appearance every time. "what can i do for you?"

"uhm..." you feel slightly embarrassed to ask of this. "h-how is jason doing?"

"jason is currently watching t.v in his room, but he says he's upset because he's in big trouble and that he upsetted you." she says with a smile. you gulp harshly, running your hand across your face as you sigh loudly.

"fork." you muttered, annoyed that you can't even correctly swear right now.

"it appears to me that you are also upset now." janet looks at you, and you look at her with tired eyes. you sit on your couch, while janet observes you with her usual cheery face. you think for a moment how to fix all of this, your stay in the good place is nearing its end, and you feel like at any minute now, you'll be boarding the train to the bad place. if jason managed to stay... at least you can leave him with a positive impression as a goodbye.

"janet?"

"yes?"

"can you make some buffalo wings?"

"sure!"

anticipation lingers through the air when janet leaves in an instant. you hoped he would find your apology gift to end his thoughts about how he upset you. but you upset him. because you pushed him away, still thinking that you don't deserve anyone as pure and kind as jason is. why were you holding back? why were you still trying to push away your feelings for him? when it was evident he thought the same of you. as you lay on the couch, you pondered if you should have given him the gift instead of janet. you close your eyes, wanting to bury yourself in the ground.

a sudden frantic knocking makes you jolt up.

you quickly stand up, fearing that michael has asked you to return to his office. you rush to your front door, readying yourself as you hesitantly open it. but… you were then met with the sight of a nervous-looking jason.

your eyes softened. "hey..."

"i love you." he deadpans, face serious as ever. your eyes widened, your heart stopped for a moment, and so did the apology in your head for him. you're about to say something but he takes a deep breath before coming closer to you.

"i just want you to know that you're like whippets to me... addicting that i can't live without it. you're pretty like those lights in a skrillex concert and make my heartbeat drop like when i overdose on hard drugs. and you're the only person here who's nice to me and you're my afterlife buddy. and you remembered that i like those buffalo wings from my favorite restaurant even though janet said they closed, and you managed to make a replica to cheer me up." he stops, fidgeting with his hands as he shyly averts your gaze. "so... i love you, homie. and wanna be there for you."

you're stunned, not knowing what to say. the tingling feeling crawls back into your heart. but you don't say anything else as you pull him to you for a kiss. he kisses you back, softly cupping your cheeks. you finally let yourself out of your shell. it was so sweet, warm, and comforting to be wanted. you wrap your arms around his neck, guiding him inside your house as your hand pushes to close the front door. you pull away for a moment, wanting to see his reaction.

"woah..." he merely says, starstruck as he blinks dumbly. "also, i love your ass. does this mean you'll have sex with me?"

you rest your hands on his chest as his breath hits your nose. how wide and doe-eyed they were, but evident that there's lust behind it. you giggled, how forward he is as you think about it. anytime you both would be coming with eleanor to the bad place if michael finds out, and maybe you two won't see each other again. and that breaks your heart for a moment how little time you two have.

fuck it. why not?

"okay." you say with a smile as you grab his arm to drag him to your room. jason smiles wildly, jumping a bit in excitement as he lets you drag him to your room.

the entire room feels heavy. your eyes blink hazily as you toss your head back when you feel his lips trace the hollow of your neck down to your breasts. clothes were thrown carelessly on the floor, the sheets were now ruffled, both of you were naked, and everything felt hot. you let out a breathy sigh when he takes one of your pert nipples into his mouth, sucking.

fuck. was this jason? you're slightly baffled at how this goofball of a man turned into something else. your hand comes up to caress his black hair down to the back of his neck, your legs are wrapped around his waist as he grinds his hips slowly. your lips feel so swollen from his kisses and your heart is beating loudly at the sight of him above you.

his head suddenly rose up, letting your nipple go as he rested his cheek on your chest, looking at you with a small grin on his face. "they're like clouds... so soft."

"you're adorable." you whisper, your hand on his hand, caressing his scalp, making him hum in satisfaction at your touch. he continues to subtly grind his crotch against yours, the friction of his prick rubbing against your core making you whine.

"jason..." you whined, and he propped himself up to tower over you, adjusting himself as he sat on his knees. "i love you too."

his heart skips a beat completely as he makes a noise of that. "can i?"

his eyes drift down to that spot on the apex of your thighs. he looks so out of it, so serious, as you nod. you place your hands on his biceps, gripping his muscles as he takes himself in his hand to gently guide himself in you. you steady yourself, pushing your hips slightly forward as you are rewarded with the sensation of his tip prodding your wet entrance. you let out a tiny moan while jason surges forward to lock lips with yours again.

"o-oh!" you look down to see how he's entering you slowly. his chest rises as his face hovers against your warm cheek. "you know... i almost thought that being in the afterlife would make my vagina go away." you randomly said, wondering why you said that. but you were too drunk in the pleasure of him filling you up inch by inch, his cock now nestled deep inside you to even think of your own words.

"then where will i go inside you?" he genuinely asks, and that makes you grin devilishly.

"in my mouth." you kiss the tip of his nose. he seems to want to ask you about that further, but you shut him up by grinding your hips up. he groans, his entire focus is now thrusting in and out of you slowly. not hurrying up and it seems you two both like this slow pace.

soft kisses are shared as he languidly thrusts into you. gentle caresses and bites are plastered across both of your skins. the sheen sweat is glistening on both of your foreheads as you both are so lost in the sensation of each other. you stare into his eyes, your warm walls clenching around him as his thumb rubs your clit. you wondered how skilled he is with all of this, knowing where your sweet spots are, and how calculated his thrusts are. he's so different in bed that it makes you want to explore more of this side of him.

"i'm close." you breathily say, your hands moving to grasp his neck, feeling that familiar knot in your stomach. jason's thrusts are starting to falter. he's also near his high as he thrusts into you with more vigor. a stream of moans of his name rings through his ears, he makes it his goal for you to cum first as he continues to rub your bead.

you let out a mewl, head tossing back and eyes shutting tight as you bit your lip when the tip of his cock hits that spongy spot in you. your whole body seizes with pleasure, back arching as his other hand holds your hips down for him to continue his hard thrusts. your walls clench around him, riding your orgasm now as he says your name breathily. he then pushes his hips completely to yours, his own orgasm coming at him as he finally cums in you.

"bortles." he sighed before he dropped his whole weight onto you. your brows furrowed, wondering why he said his favorite football player's name at the end of his orgasm. instead of being annoyed, you giggled, making him smile widely as he looked up at you as you lovingly caressed his back.

"do you think we're soulmates?" he suddenly asks, and you don't hesitate for an answer now, even though you two weren't or maybe were. who cares?

"yes."

#jason mendoza #jason mendoza x reader #jason mendoza smut #manny jacinto #the good place #fnhrlcllnwrites #manny jacinto’s other characters ⭐️ ・゜゜・．

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