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shellshocklove · 6 months ago

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does anyone know where the love of god goes? | joel miller

pairing/AU: joel miller x female!reader – post breakout & no ellie AU

summary: crossing the country alone as he searches for his brother, joel stumbles on a farm. winter is closing in, and against his better judgement he's convinced to stay. as the frost covers the land like a blanket, a warmth ignites in his heart for the young woman who's home he finds himself in.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so minors dni!!! canon-typical violence, age gap (reader is mid to late twenties), swearing, dead animals, joel being a sad man, masturbation, no use of y/n

a/n: i soft launched this ao3 last month and it flopped lol so i'm gonna keep my expectations low for this series. anyways this has been a story i've been thinking about since probably october. this is the first part of what i'm hoping will be 3 parts. happy reading i guess

main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3 / playlist

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.

The leaves rustled against Joel’s boots with every step he took. The sun had turned traitor cold, and he couldn’t feel its kiss against his cheek no more. The trees shivered above him in the wind – the only sound for miles except his heavy steps.

Did he still exist, with no one around? Joel had never minded being alone; after the breakout he’d found that he sometimes preferred it. People could be… well, when you’ve seen the worst of humanity, maybe it’s best to leave it behind.

And wasn’t he the worst of humanity? The things he’d done. The people he’d killed, and killed for. The people he’d lost.

But he had to keep going. For Tess. He promised.

Every night as he stared into the flames his thoughts would drift to her – the memories flickering in the fire. They should’ve never gone through that museum – it was supposed to have been empty – they should’ve never left Boston in the first place. Now Tess is gone because of him, him and his stupid plan to find his brother.

And for what? How is he ever gonna find Tommy?

Joel didn’t even know where he was. Nebraska? South-Dakota? Maybe he’d made it to Wyoming and just didn’t know it? Abe had told him ‘Cody Tower’, but Joel hadn’t seen anything other than mother nature for weeks.

Everything had started to look the same. Trees and more trees, a mountain in the distance, a grey and heavy sky above him. He’d been walking for forever. Slowly he moved west– or at least he thought he was. On the days where the sun hung high in the sky and wasn’t shielded behind a cloudy partition, he liked to watch it as it dipped below the earth. As the days turned shorter and shorter, the display of color had started to get more vivid. Joel would watch the light blue turn red and bloody, fiery tongues of flames licking over the horizon while the sharp edges of the mountains, and the triangular shapes of the trees faded into an intense black– like the shape of the mountain and the trees had been cut out with scissors. There wasn’t much to stay alive for anymore– but Joel lived for those few moments where nature painted with fire. Humanity might’ve gone to shit, but the cyclical regularity of mother nature gave Joel a small sense of peace.

But he missed the kiss of the sun against his cheek now. He’d moved into a large forest a few days ago. Tall trees hovered over him like giants and cast shadows down at him. It was colder here than out in the open country, but at least he’d been somewhat shaded from the rain pouring from the grey cover above his head the last few days.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

The sound stopped Joel in his tracks. Muscle memory worked on its own, gripping the shotgun slung over his shoulder. He listened for the sound again, to the steady rhythm echoing through the forest.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

With slow calculated steps Joel walked in the direction of the sound with the shotgun held tightly to his chest, his finger hovered over the trigger. The chopping sound got louder as he closed in on a man. He couldn’t tell his age with the man’s back turned – but he was strong – Joel could tell from how hard the man’s axe hit the tree trunk.

Taking another silent step, Joel got in position, “How ‘bout you slowly turn around and place that axe on the ground.”

Joel’s voice was hoarse after no use, but still cold and calculated as he spoke his order. He could see he’d startled the man, probably thinking he was alone, just like Joel had thought mere minutes ago.

The man obeyed, turning around slowly. He was older than Joel, maybe mid-seventies, maybe older if the wrinkles and creases around his eyes and nose were to be believed. His hair was white as snow matching his unkempt beard. Joel caught his eye. Strong and steady, no trace of fear one would think a man would feel while having a gun pointed at them.

Joel’s grip around the gun tightened. He wasn’t afraid to pull the trigger if that’s where this was headed. The man watched him calmly before he bent his knees, throwing the axe haphazardly on the ground.

“Kick it over here,” Joel commanded again, and the man obeyed, kicking the axe clumsily towards Joel.

Slowly Joel crept closer, gun still pointed at the man. He locked the heel of his shoe against the shaft, dragging the axe behind him and out of the way.

“Hands where I can see ‘em.”

“Are you going to kill me, son?”

The man’s question puzzled Joel. He said it so calmly, like how you’d ask someone to pass the salt.

“That depends on you.” Joel’s answer pulled at the old man’s lips, a small huff of a laugh escaping them.

“Well, you’re the one with the gun. I think it depends on you.”

Joel tightened his grip on the shotgun again – he didn’t know why –to frighten the man? He didn’t seem very frightened.

“Are you alone?” Joel asked.

“Not anymore,” the man answered.

“Don’t be a smartass,” Joel gritted through his teeth, “who you travelin’ with?”

“No one,” the man’s eyes never left Joel, “I live at a farm about a mile away.”

“Take me to it.”

The man walked with a limp Joel noticed. It was barely there, you wouldn’t see it if you didn’t pay attention, but it was there. The man acted tough enough, but his body revealed his weaknesses. It would be easy to kill him, Joel thought, if it came to that.

He followed the man through the trees with his gun pointed at his back. When they reached the end of the forest a clearing revealed itself. They followed a path through a field of, tall but wilted, brown grass until they reached an overgrown gravel road with a fence running along it. Looking out in the distance, Joel could see small spots of white and black wool. The gravel moaned under their feet as they closed in on a small farm. A two-story house sat in the middle of the barnyard where it was surrounded by a barn who’d seen better days, a silo, and a smaller farmhouse – a stable – Joel noticed as they walked closer.

The man trudged up the front stairs of the main farmhouse, a hand on the handrail keeping him steady.

“Put that gun away would you, son? I don’t want you frightening my wife.” The man broke the silence between them, speaking for the first time since they left the woods.

Joel’s grip on his shotgun didn’t loosen. How could he be sure that this man’s ‘wife’ wasn’t some gang of raiders hiding behind the front door? A question he asked the man through gritted teeth when he turned around to look at Joel.

“There’s nothing of the sort around here,” the man said, “we don’t even see any infected.”

When Joel didn’t say anything, and didn’t lower the gun, the man spoke again, “Who are you?”

“Just someone passin’ through,” Joel answered, making the man chuckle.

“You’re something else, passer-througher,” the old man smiled before he turned around again and stepped inside, leaving Joel on the porch alone.

Abandoned outside he lowered his gun slightly. Inside he could hear muffled voices, a deeper one, definitely the old man, and a brighter one, a woman’s voice. He listened, trying to make out their words with no prevail. The man seemed to have spoken the truth up until now. He most definitely lived on this farm – a seemingly normal farm. This man was just someone making an honest living – even after the apocalypse.

Lowering the gun completely, Joel put the safety on before he slung it over his shoulder. Taking a hollowed step towards the front door, movement in the window to the right of him caught his eye. It was there and then it was gone – just a ruffle of blonde curtains. Then, the door opened revealing an elderly woman.

The man’s wife.

“Welcome, traveler,” she greeted, stepping aside to let Joel in.

He passed through the doorway with a “Thank you, ma’am,” never forgetting his manners even after pointing a gun at her husband.

Inside it looked like a picture taken straight out of a Homes & Gardens magazine. The house was cozy, but it was small. He’d been welcomed into what probably used to be a parlor, but now served its purpose as their living room. It was hard to get a read on the house. Not like those open-floor plan houses he’d built too many of back before the outbreak – this was old, maybe hundreds of years old. The floorboard creaked under his shoes as he walked deeper into the living room, the rest of the house locked away like a secret behind three closed doors. The man was seated in a lounge chair by the fireplace, watching Joel with an expression Joel found it hard to decipher.

“Would you like some tea?” the woman asked, “It’s peppermint from our garden.”

Joel turned his head to the woman. She must be around the same age as the old man, Joel thought. He cleared his throat before he answered with a nod, “Thank you, ma’am.”

She pointed to the sofa, urging him to sit down with a smile before she disappeared through one of the doors to what Joel thought must be the kitchen. He felt the old man watching him as he slid his backpack off his shoulders, placing it on the creaky wooden floor behind the sofa. Joel hesitated for just a second when placing the shotgun up against the back, but decided he wasn’t in any imminent danger.

Joel almost groaned as he sat down. He’d been walking for so long, slept on the hard ground for months, he’d almost forgotten what a comfortable chair was. It almost felt surreal, being invited in for tea, like the outbreak had never happened. Here, it was like the time had stood still.

“So,” the man started, “where are you heading to if you’re just ‘passin’ through’?”

Joel cleared his throat again, “I’m lookin’ for my brother,” he answered truthfully, “last I heard he was somewhere in Wyoming.”

“If you’re going to Wyoming, then what you’re doing all the way up here?” The man queried with a chuckle.

Annoyed, Joel grinded his teeth, “Not many signs in the fuckin’ woods are there?” He huffed.

“I guess not,” the man shrugged, “but you’ve made a heck of a detour… where did you come from? Texas? You sound it.”

“Boston.”

“Boston?” the man didn’t hide his surprise, breathing out chuckles in disbelief, “I’ll give it to you, that’s one long trip.”

Joel only huffed in agreement, turning his head from the man to the window overlooking the barnyard.

“Well,” the man broke the growing silence between the two men, “you’re more than welcome to stay for dinner and for the night– you look like you could need a hot meal and a warm bed.”

Joel’s instinct was to say no, but before he could the front door opened, revealing a young woman. You.

You stopped dead in your tracks as you laid your eyes on Joel, “Oh!”.

The door slammed behind you. Under your arm you were carrying a metal bucket filled with apples. You were beautiful, young, but still beautiful – Joel couldn’t deny it.

“This is…” The man paused.

“Joel.” He cleared his throat, introducing himself, “Joel Miller.”

“Mr. Miller is just passing through– he’s looking for his brother,” the old man explained to you.

You nodded at the information, sat the bucket down before you reached out a hand for Joel to take, introducing yourself. Your hand in his was warm and soft while his own dwarfed yours, rough and calloused. He couldn’t help but think about what his hands had done, the people they’d killed. He shouldn’t be tainting yours, painting them red. Joel quickly drew his hand back, balling it into a fist at his side.

Joel looked over at the old man, “Your daughter?” he asked with a tilt of his head in your direction.

“Oh, no,” the man answered with a playful smile, “You’re not the first person ‘passin’ through’ who’s shown up on our doorstep.”

The door to the kitchen opened to reveal the old woman with a teapot in her hand, and a stacked tower of teacups in the other.

“Let me help you Alma,” you said, taking the teacups from the old woman’s hand before placing them on the table; one in front of Joel, a second in front of the old man, “Here you go Arthur,” and a third next to Joel.

“Did you also want some tea, sweetie?” Alma asked you as she placed the steaming teapot on the table.

“Yes, please, but I can grab a cup myself– sit down,” you smiled and padded the old woman’s shoulder, then you grabbed the bucket of apples and disappeared into the kitchen.

Alma started pouring the tea as a silence fell over the room. A small, “Thank you, ma’am,” left Joel’s lips as she moved on to pouring tea for her husband.

“So,” the man started before taking a sip of his tea, “what do you say Mr. Miller? You staying for the night?”

That night as he laid in a real bed for the first time in months, Joel had trouble falling asleep. He wasn’t used to this. Hadn’t been used to it for a while. His belly full, soft fabric against his skin, feeling warm, and clean. The old couple had offered him one of the two bedrooms on the first floor, the two mystery doors in the living room now revealed. Laying in his new bed he tried not to think about who he was sharing a wall with.

You.

You were something else, helpful and kind. Everything Joel hadn’t seen since the outbreak. At the dinner table you’d asked him questions and listened intently – even when his answers were short and brisk. There was a glimmer in your eye, and it touched something inside him he hadn’t felt in a long time. But you were young, mid to late twenties he reckoned, maybe a little older– anyways, he shouldn’t be harboring anything for you, it wouldn’t be right. Especially now, now that he’d agreed to stay.

After the dinner plates had been cleared, Arthur had folded a big map out on the table. “Here are we now,” he’d pointed a finger at the map. Montana. Southern Montana to be precise. “I’ll give it to you Mr. Miller, if you’ve made it this far on your own you probably won’t have any trouble making your way down south to Wyoming.”

“But?” Joel watched the grimace pulling at the old man’s face.

“But,” Arthur had said, “Winter is just around the corner and… well, going back out there in the wilderness alone during our winters is a dead trap, I’ll tell you that much.”

Joel had let the man go on about the far below freezing temperatures, the heavy snow, and the tough wind, but Joel wasn’t stupid. He knew the winters up here were harsh. It wasn’t even winter yet, but every day he’d felt the temperature drop lower and lower, and the last few of nights he’d even had to get a fire going, against his better judgement.

So– the deal was: Joel would stay over the winter. Just for the winter, he’d been adamant on not staying longer. He’d get a place to stay, a warm bed to sleep in, and food in his belly on one condition – he’d help out on the farm.

The fire crackled loudly, red tongues licking up the chimney as Joel fed it another log. He watched as the fire caught in the new log, devouring it quickly and with no mercy. It was really starting to heat up now. A small flicker of pride sparked in Joel chest. He’d always been good at building a fire. It was one of those things, Joel had come to learn, where you needed to pay attention, to have patience.

When he was younger, he’d take Tommy out camping sometimes, just the two of them. Mostly they’d go during the summer; Tommy wasn’t a fan of sleeping outside in the cold, though cold had meant something different back then in Texas. But Joel remembered one time he’d managed to convince him to go with him. It was right after he’d gotten his driver’s license, and his parents had given him a beat-up truck for his birthday – for sharing – they’d told him, “You need to give your little brother a ride when he needs it!” Joel wasn’t exactly thrilled about his future as Tommy’s private driver, but it didn’t mean he didn’t love his brother.

A few weeks into October he’d managed to convince Tommy to go camping. They’d packed the truck with their tents, sleeping bags, and fishing equipment, before they’d gotten on the road, driving to a lake where they knew there were fish to catch. Finding a place to camp was always difficult with Tommy. They’d parked Joel’s truck at the edge of the forest before they’d followed a hiking trail. Joel was convinced they’d walked at least three quarters of the way around the lake before they found a spot good enough for Tommy.

It had to be flat, but also shielded. There couldn’t be too many rocks, but there also had to be enough rocks to build a hearth. Tommy wanted it to be private, but he also wanted it to be open enough that he could see if someone would stumble upon their camp. Joel knew not to argue with him when he got like that, opting instead for a defeated, “Whatever.”

Setting up camp went relatively easy. They’d worked together building the tents, collecting rocks for their fireplace, and even managed to find a fallen tree to use as a bench. When the night slowly started to cover them in darkness, Tommy decided to get the fire going. Joel watched him work the logs into a pile as he started on filleting the fish they’d just caught.

“You’re doin’ it wrong,” he’d told his brother, “You’re suffocatin’ it.” He’d washed his hands in the lake, ridding himself of the slimy smell of fish, before crouching down next to Tommy.

The fire was one big bowl of smoke, and Joel caught himself wondering what messages Tommy must’ve been sending to the heavens. He removed some of the heavier logs, and the fire could breathe.

“See?” he’d looked at Tommy, “It just needed air.” Joel had shifted the smaller pieces of wood around and not long after the fire was alive.

That Joel, that green boy who liked to take his little brother camping, that Joel didn’t know how much those skills would come in handy in a few years when the world would get turned upside down.

“Do you have any mittens, Joel?”

Your question pulled Joel from his memories. He turned his head slightly, meeting your gaze from where you were huddled up in the corner of the couch. You looked cozy, but he knew you weren’t. The house was cold this morning, outside a thin layer of frost had stuck to the grass during the night. It was early too, the sun not having climbed high enough yet to peek over the mountains. You looked tired where you sat, clad in a wool sweater with a blanket pulled over your knees. Under the blanket Joel remembered you were still wearing your pajama pants, and in your hand you held a steaming cup of tea, peppermint, Joel knew, his own cup abandoned on the coffee table.

“What?” Joel answered, eyebrows furrowed.

“Do you have any mittens, Joel?” you repeated softly, like the way people tended to speak in the mornings, like they were afraid they’d wake up the world.

His calves were starting to burn from the strain of being crouched in front of the fireplace for a moment too long, and he tried his best to hide his groan, biting his teeth together as he stood to his feet, knees cracking loudly.

“Um, no,” he said, confused about your question.

“I’ll knit you a pair then,” you smiled before putting your cup down next to his.

“That’s… that ain’t necessary,” Joel hurried, but you waved him off.

“Sure it is,” you smiled again, much to Joel’s annoyance. He didn’t deserve your kindness, but you gave it away like it cost nothing. “If you’re gonna be helping Arthur out in the woods this winter, you need some mittens.”

Joel watched as you got up from your home on the couch and vanished into your bedroom. A moment later you appeared in the doorway with a basket under your arm.

“Also…” you gave him another smile as you sat back down again, placing the basket in your lap. It was close to overflowing with yarn, balls of black and white in varying sizes peeking over the top, the homespun ends fraying against the rough edges of the basket. “I’ll have something to do during the evenings,” you winked before you rummaged through the basket and fished out a measuring tape.

Joel shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he watched you. Mittens? Joel can’t remember if he’s ever owned a pair of mittens. Gloves, sure, but mittens?

You patted the cushion next to you, urging him to sit down, kind smile hanging off your lips like always. Sitting down, he folded his hands in his lap, suddenly very aware of how close you were sitting. It wasn’t like he hadn’t sat next to you before; he’d been here a few weeks now, and he was starting to know you, but for some reason, this felt different. Maybe it was the early morning, the quiet house, or the fact that Alma and Arthur were still sleeping upstairs, but it felt like it was just the two of you, alone, and Joel didn’t know how to feel about it.

You shifted towards him, the blanket slipping slightly off the couch with your movement, in your hands you held the measuring tape while you looked at him expectantly.

When Joel didn’t move, a smile quirked at the corner of your mouth before you grabbed one of his hands resting in his lap. You uncurled his fingers slowly, one by one, making Joel hold his breath.

“I need to see how big I need to make them,” you whispered, holding his hand very gently.

Joel’s heart hammered in his chest. Your hand was warm and soft, like the last time he’d touched you as you’d introduced yourself to him. Joel didn’t dare look at your face, or he’d say something stupid, so he didn’t. He looked at your joined hands, his brain trying to remember the last time someone had held his hand as gently as you did, your thumb running over the back of it soothingly.

He can’t remember. His hands are always empty.

With your other hand, a finger curled around the measuring tape, you slipped it around his wrist before leaning closer to look at the numbers.

“Is this too tight you think, or do you want them to be looser?” You asked through your lashes, eyes sparkling in the low morning light.

Joel cleared his throat, “No, that’s fine.”

“Okay,” you nodded, slipping the measuring tape from his wrist to write down the measurement. He hadn’t noticed your notebook until now. It was a little rough around the edges from use, the spined cracked and the paper a little yellow. Placing the pen in the seam, you grabbed the measuring tape again.

Loosening your grip on his hand you placed it over the thick of your thigh. Joel drew a quick breath, his heartbeat hammering in his ears, under his hand he could feel the warmth of you through the soft flannel.

You continued taking your measurements. You didn’t say anything, so neither did Joel, but you looked up at him through your lashes sometimes, and Joel thought that maybe the most useful thing one can do with empty hands, is hold on.

The creak of the stair made Joel jump, and like he’d been burned his hand retracted on reflex, as Arthur’s heavy steps got closer.

“Morning,” Arthur greeted as he ducked his head through the door to the living room.

“Mornin’,” Joel mumbled, head lowered as he gathered his hands in his lap.

“Good morning!” you smiled, always with that kind smile, “Did you sleep well, Arthur?” you got up from your seat before grabbing your teacup to follow Arthur into the kitchen, leaving the yarn and Joel.

Taking a deep breath, Joel pinched the top of his nose. He needed to get it together. You were just being your regular kind self; your soft touch was nothing more than that. Standing to his feet, Joel grabbed his own cup, trudging into the kitchen.

In the kitchen Arthur sat in his usual spot at the dining table, the chair closest to the window. “I need to get on with this barn soon,” Joel heard him say as he sat down opposite him. “It’s gonna fall apart come spring if we get as much snow as we did last year.”

Joel tried his best not to look at you as he heard you hum. You were stood at the kitchen counter slicing the bread Alma had baked yesterday, readying breakfast. Instead, Joel opted to gaze down into his teacup, where the peppermint leaves had all gathered at the bottom.

“Um,” Joel cleared his throat, “what needs fixin’?”

“What doesn’t need fixing in that barn?” Arthur sighed, peeling his eyes from out the window to Joel.

“I can uh,” Joel eyes shifted quickly to you before he cleared his throat again, “I can take a look at it, if ya want?”

Arthur’s eyebrows met in a furrow as he looked at Joel.

“I used to be a contractor,” Joel explained with a shrug, before taking a last cold sip of his tea.

“So, you know a thing or two about buildings I reckon?” Arthur asked.

“Yeah, well I used to,” Joel leaned back in his chair.

“Well, that would be very helpful Joel– I’d appreciated it!” Arthur smiled before leaning back in his chair making room for you as you started setting the table. Joel gave him a short nod in return, trying to fight the urge to look at you as you placed the food on the table.

Arthur had downplayed the state of the barn – it was a mess – it was dangerous, and had Joel told him as much. But it was nothing Joel couldn’t fix, as long as he had the right supplies, fortunately for him the forest would provide them with what they needed.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

The axe dug a deep wound into the bark with every swing. Joel’s breath was heavy, and his arms ached, but it was a welcomed form of tiredness. A month into it, he was starting to get used to the work. There was something so satisfying about manual labor, of using his hands, of making something – he’d almost forgotten.

The routine of the work felt good. Waking up at dawn, then breakfast, he could use his body for something useful for the first time in twenty years and end the day with a warm meal for supper. This new temporary life was simple, but it was strangely normal.

Originally, Joel was only helping Arthur out in the woods for firewood through the winter– but now with the barn, they’d changed course. The last few days they’d started to become more selective with the trees; looking for the tallest and straightest ones that would fall safely.

A frozen sky hovered over the men as they worked. This morning when Joel had woken up, the thinnest layer of snow had fallen like powdered sugar during the night, turning the world bright with winter. Earlier in the week the frost had perched on the farm, and Joel had known winter was closing in. He’d lost count of the days and months passing while on his own, but Arthur had told him it was late October.

“It will start snowing properly soon,” Arthur said, breaking the silence between them.

Joel hummed before taking a bite of his packed lunch. They’d worked all morning – Joel felling the trees and Arthur cleaning them up and removing the branches. Now they were sat on a fresh tree stump each, their first break of the day.

“I have an old logging sled in the barn– used to be my father’s,” Arthur explained, “I think we should leave the trees here until the snow gets deep enough for the sled and have the horses pull them back to the farm.”

“Fine by me,” Joel took another bite of his lunch.

“The logs will have to dry out over the winter,” Arthur mused, “Then come spring we can start the repairs on the barn.”

Spring. If everything goes according to plan, Joel won’t be here come spring. He needed to find Tommy– he couldn’t, and he wasn’t gonna stay on the farm for any longer than necessary. He’d already decided– when the snow finally started to melt, Joel was gone.

Joel hummed, a non-committed answer. It was easier that way, to not get Arthur’s hopes up. He liked Arthur, he was a good man, a hard worker even in his old age, and silent when Joel wanted him to be. Joel liked Alma too, but her age shined through more easily than Arthur’s. Joel couldn’t help but notice her repeating herself more often and forgetting where she put things. It made life harder for you, Joel could see it. Your responsibilities were already a lot to handle as you took care of the animals mostly by yourself, but as Joel had discovered Alma starting to struggle with the housework, he’d noticed you starting to help her more often. In Joel’s mind it was unfair to you, but it wasn’t like he could blame Alma for growing older, in this world it was a feat.

Still, he’d try his best to help you when he could, like doing the dishes after dinner as you dried them off and put them away. The first few times you were both quiet, it was strangely intimate, only the sound of splashing water filling the space between you. One night he'd gotten brave, breaking the comfortable silence and asked you ‘What you thinkin’ about, sweetheart?’ You’d looked at him with big eyes, searching his own for something, but before he could figure out what it was, you’d answered him with a shrug. It was unlike you, unlike you to be this silent, but Joel didn’t push. The next night the silence persisted, and he’d thought adding ‘Sweetheart’ had been too much, but then the next night you’d sighed quietly and whispered, “I’m worried about Alma.”

Looking down at the mittens in his lap, the guilt gnawed at him. The look of worry in your eyes, Arthur’s hopeful wishes, and Alma’s aging. Joel couldn’t have anything tying him to this place. He was supposed to find his brother.

Suddenly, a black and orange butterfly landed on Joel’s knee. Joel stopped breathing, body going rigid as he tried not to move. How the hell was this butterfly still alive? It sat quiet on his knee, wings slowly retracting and widening behind it. Memories pushed its way to the forefront of Joel’s mind then.

Sarah. Another year had gone by, and the thought made his chest tighten.

“That’s quite a sight at this time of year,” he heard Arthur say, “Beautiful, aren’t they?”

“Y-yeah,” Joel stammered out an answer, afraid his voice would scare it away.

The longer Joel watched the butterfly he found his guilt started to slowly melt away. It’s okay, dad. It was like the rustling of the trees carried her voice with them. You’re on the right path.

“I can do that f’you want, sweetheart.”

Joel’s boots creaked under him as he walked across the barnyard. You looked up at the sound of his voice, smile blossoming across your face as you tightened your grip on the shovel.

“It’s alright,” you said with a grunt as you picked up more snow, adding it to the growing pile, “Good for me to get some physical work in.”

Joel nodded as you straightened up, hand going to your hip while the other leaned on the shovel, your heavy breath curled in small plumes out of your mouth. You took him in for a second, eyes flickering over his form before they fell on the rabbits hanging over Joel’s shoulder.

“Where’d you get those?” you asked, and Joel shrugged.

“Shot ‘em,” he said simply, “they walked right by me as I was choppin’– seemed too good to pass up.”

“Not for the rabbits,” you muttered, and Joel had to fight the urge to smile.

“You a vegetarian or somethin’?” he asked with a single raised eyebrow, and you waved him off.

“No,” you said pointedly, but a teasing lilt lingered, “Just stating a fact... we don’t eat a lot of rabbit around here, is all.”

Joel nodded slightly; it made sense. He knew there was a gun in the house, but it was a revolver– too small to do any real hunting, and Joel didn’t even know if there were bullets for it. So, Joel didn't ask further. Lucky for him, you did.

“So, you just shot those?” you asked, a frown pulling at your eyebrows, “Aren’t they fast?”

Joel made a nonchalant sort of face. “Ain’t that hard when you can aim straight.”

“Well, how do you aim straight?”

“You learn to shoot.”

You let out a small laugh, one that pulled at Joel’s lips. “And how did you go about learning that?”

Joel felt his smile drop, the leather strap of his shotgun weighing heavy on his shoulder, “Practice.”

You didn’t seem to notice the change in his demeanor as you dug the shovel into the snow, so it stood by itself like a watchman. “Can you teach me?” you asked, the snow creaking under your shoes as you took a few steps closer.

His lips pulled at the corner, “No.”

Your eyes widened with disappointment, eyebrows pulling together in a frown as you asked, “Why?”

“Nothin’ good ever comes from it,” Joel shrugged.

“Okay,” you huffed a laugh, “that’s sinister.” Then you narrowed your eyes at him, gearing up for an argument no doubt with the way you rested your hand on your hip. “What if I also wanted to go hunting?” you posed, and Joel shook his head.

“That ain’t happenin’, sweetheart.”

“Okay, but now you’ve brought us rabbits– and what if I end up really liking rabbit?” you bit down on your bottom lip, unconsciously showing off you own rabbit teeth.

Cute.

“Then I’ll shoot as many rabbits as you want,” Joel countered with a teasing smile before tightening his hold on the rope slung over his other shoulder (the one he’d tied the rabbits to), and walked towards the kitchen door at the back of the farmhouse.

He heard you huff in defeat behind him, your creaky steps following him up the stairs and inside. Walking into the kitchen Joel placed the rabbits on the table before he pulled at his mittens, stripped off his jacket, and hung it neatly over the back of one of the dining chairs. Grabbing one of the rabbits he brought it to the kitchen counter to start dressing it, fighting the urge to turn his head as he heard you enter the room.

“Come on, Joel,” you whined, “Why won’t you teach me?”

“Told you already,” Joel replied, “Nothin’ good comes from learnin’ to shoot things.”

Shifting the rabbit around on the counter he reached for the butcher knife in the knife block.

“You know, that’s a really stupid way of saying you don’t want to spend the time,” you told him, your voice closer now as you leaned against the kitchen counter.

“When exactly did ya hear me sayin’ I don't wanna spend time with you?” Joel asked, his eyebrows pulled together in a frown.

“You won’t teach me to shoot,” you teased, and Joel could hear the smile in your voice.

Joel huffed out a laugh, “Damn right I won’t.”

He heard you let out a whiney huff, before you turned on your heel, muttering out a curse under your breath when you accidently bumped your hip into the counter and Joel couldn’t help the smile teasing at his lips. You sat down with an overdramatic sigh, and Joel still didn’t look at you – he knew he’d cave eventually if he did, say yes against his better judgement – so he kept his eyes on the knife in his hand.

“How’s Arthur?” Joel asked as he worked.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, “The same I think– Alma was up there looking after him last time I checked.”

This time Joel allowed himself to look at you. You sat sideways on the wooden chair, legs crossed and tucked under your chair with your head hanging, eyes glued to your lap. Gone were the teasing, and gone were the smiles.

“He’ll be fine,” Joel said, his eyes back on the rabbit, “it’s just a cold.”

“Yeah… but he’s been getting sick a lot more often,” your voice was low, like you didn’t want them to hear you upstairs, “you can’t help but think the worst you know?”

Joel put the knife down and moved over to the sink. He quickly washed his hands before grabbing a towel to dry off, twisting it in his hands as he approached you. Placing the towel on the counter, he hesitated for a moment as he watched you, watched the way you twisted your hands in your lap with no sense of purpose or intent. It was like the worry dripped down your body. Pushing off the counter Joel knelt in front of you, a grunt escaped him as his knees clicked loudly, his balance slightly off on his haunches.

“Shit,” Joel huffed out a laugh, and you followed. Your palms landed on his knees to keep him steady, warmth spreading like jolting electricity.

“Sweetheart, I’ll tell you what–” he stopped himself when you looked at him through your lashes, trying to ignore the way your eyes focused on his mouth as he spoke. “’s just a cold, he’ll be up ‘n walkin’ tomorrow– man’s got gumption.”

“Yeah?” your eyes flickered upwards, meeting his.

Suddenly, under your gaze Joel felt brave. His hand moved on its own accord, cupping your cheek in his hand. He let his thumb ghost over your skin, still cold under his fingertips from being outside, but warming under his touch.

“Yeah, sweetheart.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, you only watched him with glimmering eyes, like you were under a spell. Maybe he was too.

“Still,” you sighed, “Would be better if I could pick up more of the slack around here... Arthur does a lot, and I wish I could do more to support them.”

“Like what? You take care of the animals all by yourself– that’s more than enough.”

“Well, I could learn to shoot rabbits,” you told him, before the corners of your mouth pulled into a pleased smirk as he rolled his eyes at you.

Reluctantly, he pulled his hand away, making a move to stand when you grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

“I’m kidding, Joel,” you smiled, before a more serious look washed over your features. “I mean it’s… It’s gonna be empty here without you,” you said, “I’m starting to really like having you here, Joel.”

Joel turned his hand to rest the back of it on your thigh, your hand fitting in his.

“I uh,” his eyes fixated on your joined hands, then he cleared his throat, “I’ll stay as long as you need me to. I’m not leavin’ you alone, sweetheart.”

Your eyes lit up at his words, smile growing large across your face. Joel’s heart drummed in his chest as your eyes flickered down to his mouth again.

“Thank you,” you said in a low voice, and then you did something Joel thought was gonna make his heart stop beating. You leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. It bloomed against his skin, and made wings flutter against the walls of his stomach.

“You’re a good man, Joel Miller,” you whispered before you pulled away, looking at him with kindness in your eyes.

If only you knew, Joel thought, if only you knew the blood on his hands.

He couldn’t look at you when you looked at him like that. Like you believed your own words. So, he cleared his throat awkwardly and stood to his feet, his knees clicking as your hand slipped from his movement. He walked back to the counter, fingers grabbing the towel with no other purpose than to calm himself down.

After placing the towel back where it usually hung, he grabbed the knife again, turning his attention back to the rabbit, allowing himself to steal a few glances at you where you sat looking out the kitchen window.

“Hey, uh,” Joel broke the growing silence after a few minutes, “how ‘bout rabbit stew for lunch?”

Your head snapped to look at him as he spoke, a smile ghosting over your lips as you said, “I’ll go get some vegetables from the cellar.”

Joel wouldn’t necessarily call himself a good cook – he wouldn’t even call himself a cook in the first place. Back before the outbreak he’d been forced to learn the basics as a fresh single dad, but he’d never been able to provide Sarah with gourmet meals very often, and when Sarah had gotten older, he’d been embarrassed to say that her food was always better than his – eggshells and all. One summer he’d bought himself a nice grill– one of those way too expensive gas grills with too many fancy accessories for Joel to regularly use. He’d had a job that ended up paying well, some rich guy’s mansion that needed renovating, and decided to treat himself for once. That summer all their meals had come from that grill, well mostly, and afterwards Joel looked at himself as a pretty good griller, if nothing else.

You on the other hand, you knew what you were doing, it was clear in the effortlessly way you moved beside him as you got the vegetables ready for the stew. Joel seared the meat to the best of his abilities, making sure it was properly browned on both sides before setting it aside. After that, it was clear that you were in charge, and Joel let you boss him around and tell him what to do. It made his heart warm around the edges, watching how you put so much love and care into everything you did.

An hour later you finally sat down to eat; two hearty bowls of stew each as light snowflakes covered the world outside. You’d let the pot simmer on low over the heat as you’d wanted to bring up a bowl for Arthur and Alma later.

“So…” you started, watching as Joel dug into his bowl, “How’s the stew?”

“’s good!” Joel nodded through a mouthful, and he wasn’t lying. It was good, really good in fact.

“Yeah?” you bubbled through a smile, before you dug into your own bowl to see if he’d spoken the truth. He watched as you face brightened as you chewed, nodding your head to confirm his verdict.

“I think I really like rabbit, Joel,” you said through a teasing smile, and Joel couldn’t fight the chuckle from spilling.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, teasing smile not going anywhere, “So… when are you teaching me to shoot?”

“Shut up.”

The living room was quiet, safe for the cracking of the fire. It had almost died out when Joel had stepped out of his room. He’d been twisting and turning again, counting sheep, but nothing had been able to pull him under the blanket of sleep. He was plumb tired too, that was the worst part. The embers hummed with a low light, and with a small stick Joel had spread them out before placing a small piece of wood on top. No less than a minute later the fire fed on the log.

Taking a seat and leaning back in the lounge chair, Joel looked out the window with tired eyes. The moon looked down on him, big and bright, it shone its white light over the barnyard like a spotlight. His thoughts were clouded over as he gazed up. A billion little lights turning into bright spheres in the sky.

On nights like this, Joel felt like he was barely breathing at all.

His thoughts didn’t stray for long before they found you again. Lately, you were always on his mind. He thought about how you’d looked mere hours ago, when he’d sat in this same exact chair, only this time it was facing towards the sofa and not the window.

You’d been sat curled up in the corner, blanket thrown over your lap with a book in hand. You’d told him you’d read all the books in the house already, but it didn’t stop you from coming back to your favorites. Joel had been reading his own book, an old western he’d found in the bookshelf in the upstairs hallway a few days ago. It was entertaining, but not enough to hold his attention. He found his eyes had a mind of their own, slipping over the top to steal a peek at you as you read, feeling a smile tug at his lips at the barely there furrow of concentration between your eyebrows.

“Joel.”

Joel perked up at the whisper of his name, the memories fading like ripples in still water. He looked around the room –nothing. He sat quietly in his chair for a moment, listening, as his heartbeat quickened in his chest. It had been your voice, hadn’t it? Or was he starting to lose it? His eyes fell to the door of your bedroom. He hadn’t noticed it until now, but he could see it was slightly ajar.

“Joel.”

The voice was louder this time, almost strained, but it was yours. A thousand scenarios flashed before his eyes then at your tone. Was there someone in your room? Were you in danger? Seconds later Joel crossed the room, a mix of fear and protectiveness overcoming him.

Leaning up against your door he listened for the intruder as he readied himself. The soft crinkling of your sheets combined with your strained whimpers was all it took for him to push the door open, fearing the worst.

And…

It was empty, your room, you were alone. Joel immediately felt stupid– the only intruder here was him.

He was about to step out, embarrassed at his actions, when he heard it again, his name falling from your lips. It was all Joel needed to finally take in your body, squirming under your sheets, still asleep. The realization of what he’d just walked in on made Joel’s eyes widen.

Laying on your back, the duvet had slipped down your torso from your movements to reveal the thin t-shirt you wore to bed. Like this he could see your perked nipples through the fabric, as your chest quickly rose and fell, making Joel’s imagination start to run wild.

“Joel.”

In his pajama pants, Joel could feel his cock come alive from the soft whimper that left your lips along with his name. He couldn’t move, like some farm elf had glued his feet to the floor while he wasn’t looking. He watched as you scrunched your face together in pleasure, another whimper falling from your lips, and all the blood in Joel’s body rushed down south.

As if the soundwaves from your voice had broken against him, he took a step backwards, and then another, and another until he crossed the threshold of your door. He tried his best to be quiet, to not wake you and have you catch him in your room in the middle of the night.

The image of you squirming under your sheets, dreaming of him, didn’t leave him as he closed the door to his own room. With a sigh his head fell against the door, a strong hand gliding down his front to hover over his aching cock.

Joel Miller was no saint, but what he was doing– what he was about to do, was bad.

“Shit,” he quietly hissed, running his hand up his clothed cock. He hadn’t touched himself properly in a long time, not since he left Boston.

His cock reacted to his touch, growing harder and harder until he couldn’t take it anymore. He hooked his finger around the hem of his pajama pants, pulling them down to the thick of his thigh, freeing himself. He hissed at the cold air hitting his length, as it bopped with the movement of being freed. Bringing his hand to his mouth, Joel spat, before he wrapped his spit-soaked hand around himself.

His mind found you again as he started stroking himself, slowly at first, pumping himself with a practiced hand, squeezing himself at the base before bringing his hand up to thumb at the tip. Joel couldn’t get the way you sounded out of his mind. Couldn’t forget how you were squirming in your bed, dreaming of him. Couldn’t shake the thought of pulling those moans and whimpers from you with his hands, and his mouth, and with his cock.

“Fuck.”

Joel tried to be quiet, but he couldn’t fight the moan from slipping from his lips. Fuck, he wanted you. He wanted his hands all over you. Closing his eyes his mouth dropped open as he imagined what he was dying to do to you.

How much he’d wanted to help you out of your t-shirt, run his hands over your breasts and tease your nipples. Take his time to pull those moans and whimpers from your soft lips as he teased you with kisses down your body, down the valley of your breasts, your tummy, down to you to your–

Another low moan fell from Joel’s lips. He squeezed himself tighter as he jerked himself off, precum pearling at the tip, and slipping down his length, mixing with his spit.

The sound of the slick rhythm of his hand filled his bedroom as he increased the pace of his strokes. He had to bite down on his lip to strangle a groan when thoughts of getting between your legs, spreading them open and getting his mouth on you filled his head. He fantasized about how you’d taste falling apart on his tongue–Fuck, how you’d sound falling apart around his cock.

His eyes fell shut as he fisted himself faster. Joel could feel his orgasm quickly building, coiling tight in his tummy. With his free hand he cupped his balls, and then he couldn’t help but imagine it was you, a picture of you on your knees before him flashed behind his eyelids, your tongue lapping at his balls while your hand pumped his cock.

“Shit.”

With a strained groan, thick ropes of cum spilled over his knuckles and down his length, coating him in his release. His breath came out ragged, as he continued his strokes, milking himself of the rest of his release.

Fuck.

His cock softened in his hand as he calmed down from his high. With a quiet groan he pushed himself off the door, looking around his room for something to clean himself up with.

The guilt of what he’d done washed over him quickly, settling in his chest like a heavy weight. You were so young, and beautiful, and Joel just an old man. He shouldn’t want you like this, shouldn’t want you this much.

Climbing under the covers, Joel couldn’t shake his thoughts of you, of you dreaming about him in your bed, about your smiles, and your touch. A supercut of you rolling like a tape in his minds eye. A supercut of you bundled up under a blanket on the sofa, knitting him his mittens. Of you, your own knitted hat pulled tightly down over your ears as you stepped out into the snow to check on the animals. Of the way you’d looked at him for the first time, with the bucket of apples under your arm, and the sweet taste of them as you’d offered him one later, after dinner.

Finally, Joel could breathe.

next part -> here! i hope someone liked this? if you did a comment, reply or an ask is always welcome and they make me super happy <3 other than that thank you for reading!!

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

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snapewife-divorce-lawyer · 3 months ago

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counting down the top 10 sexiest droids in star wars.

i’m 100% serious btw. this is based solely on my memory so if i forgot your fav, feel free to comment

#10

this guys from a new hope! now i must somewhat shamefully admit that this is based entirely on looks. but i mean come on look at it. instantly clocked it as a freek

these annoying fuckers from clone wars. this goofy ass attempt to make battledroids more intimidating did at least produce a droid i wouldn’t mind coming home to every night. these guys are huge brats too. excited to see how that plays out in more intimate settings

it’s just something about it. i can’t put my finger on. its so resolute and sinister, and yet it is not unlike a a wild rabbit. it’s delicate hands and big eyes make me want to care for it. i want this thing to call me mommy.

the ferryman from the mandalorian. he is so dutiful. a powerful aura. he looks like he could hold me tight in those big strong arms

i could fix him

look we all knew this was coming. he’s powerful sexual presence it’s simply undeniable. the baddest bitch in star wars just barely beating lando. i’ve chosen the sexiest picture of him that i could find. enjoy.

battle droids but specifically the ones with paint on them. i think these would have the closest analogue to human intimacy of any on this list. and even then, kissing them is an exciting geometric chalenge

sexiest picture in this post by far. oh my god these look inside books. should i be tagging this as nsfw? this diabolical baddie even deploys one of my favorite droids ever. making her the only droid milf that i can think of.

gonk droids. but specifically gonky from the bad batch. i think this one is probably the most indescribable. i can say little details like how he kinda reminds me of 80s computers and i love 80s computers, or how the simplest shape can sometimes be the best, or how cute it is when he kicks his feet in the air while he is being used for weightlifting, but none of it really adds up to how i feel

and the number one sexiest droid in star wars (and it’s not even close) is:

chopper. obviously.

dilf dot com. this guy has such an attractive personality. beyond words how wonderful his design is. one of my favorite star wars characters and one of the best droid designs

#star wars #droids #star wars droids #objectum #r2d2 #star wars chopper #gonky #bad batch gonky #clone wars #star wars clone wars

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pokechbi · 1 year ago

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🎀I Can Treat You Better Than He Ever Can, Love🎀

Simon Ghost Riley x fem Reader!

NSFW, MDNI !!!

Fem anatomy used

WC: 4.9K

As always, asks are open and every single interaction is so so greatly appreciated! I love u all 🫶

Enjoy loves 💗💗 !!!

You sat in the mess hall, picking at your lunch, your appetite gone for the day. You stared ahead at Konig, sat two tables in front of you. You also stared at the brunette woman sitting across from him, giggling like a fucking schoolgirl at his every word. You watched, your head searing with green, slimy jealousy as she reached over and grazed her fingers over his. Bitch. You muttered quietly, putting the lid on the lunch you had brought from home.

"Someone's got their knickers in a twist." The Brit came from behind you, his steps quieted as always. He sat across from you, blocking your view of the Austrian beast you had your heart set on. You groaned, slumping over in your seat. "What's on your mind, mate" He asks. You look up at him. His gaze scanned your face, landing on your eyes, looking between them. You shifted in nervousness, fiddling with the sleeve of your turtleneck. He was boring a hole into your skin, his eyes dark and strong. You wouldn't hesitate to obey him like a dog when he stared at you like that. But he wasn't the one you had your heart set on. At least not anymore.

Months ago, you and Simon found yourselves alone in a conference room, and you were hell bent on releasing the sexual tension that had managed to build between you both for weeks. He stood towering over you, eyes sliding down your body and undressing you with his eyes. You approached him hastily, running your hands up and down his face, slowly slipping your fingers under the hem of his balaclava. He softly grabbed your hands, lowering your arms back to your sides. You looked at him confused. "I...can't, love." He spoke, his voice close to a whisper. Your heart dropped into your stomach as he said this, your breathing growing strained. You felt the tightening of your throat, tears threatening to well. "I'm your Lieutenant. This won't end well for either of us. You know that." He said gently, hands still wrapped around yours. You parted your lips to speak, your bottom lip quivering with your sadness, turned to pure anger. "So...you led me on?" You asked him. His eyes go wide, instantly shaking his head. " What? No, I didn't lead you on. I never promised anything between us." He scoffed, pointing a gloved finger in your face. "Did you think that our little moments meant that I'd risk my entire career for you?" You looked at him stunned, and began backing away slowly, nodding your head in disbelief. He runs his hands over his face, sighing frustratedly. "Listen...I'm sorry. I didn't mea-" "Save it, Simon. Forget this ever happened. That we ever happened." You spat, throwing the door open and slipping yourself through it. He watched painfully as you left, the sting of rejection stabbing your core.

The memory jabbed at you as he looked at you, the lustful look in his eyes that night slithering its way into your head. You push the thought away. You and Simon agreed to forget it happened, to stay as friends. You didn’t want to raise suspicion to any of the higher-ups, so you carried on like normal. It took weeks, months to feel like you were over him. You dreaded seeing him everyday, avoiding him on missions and around base like the plague. But somehow, he managed to work his way back into your life as if nothing happened. You decided it couldn’t be that bad for you, if anything it’d help you get over him and see him as a friend and nothing more. At least, you did. "Nothing's wrong, Simon. I'm fine." You reply, looking up to meet his eyes again. "Doesn't look like nothin' ". He chuckles. “The way you’re starin’ at Jessie like you wanna curb stomp the poor lass” He says smugly. Jessie. You scoff, your cheeks burning red with irritation. “Does everyone on this base know her fucking name?” You stand to your feet, grabbing your bag and not bothering to trash the container with your untouched lunch. You make your way out of the entrance to the mess hall, your blood boiling with jealousy. What did she have that you didn’t? You roll your eyes, walking hastily to the elevator. You needed to get outside, breathe some air. You felt suffocated in that building, like every single person there was secretly out to get you, knowing your deepest and darkest secrets and hell bent on using them against you. You’d been having shit luck on the field, distracted by the two damning men who plagued your mind. You wanted Konig. Needed him. And while you were friendly while he was stationed on the base, he showed no signs of wanting anything more. And that broke you, making you want to rip the hair right out of your head. First Simon, now him. You couldn’t catch a break.

As you approached the elevator, you felt a strong hand grab your wrist, holding you in place. Without turning around, you could already tell who it was. The smell of his musky, warm cologne wafted up your nose, triggering the memories you had tried so hard to purge from your head. You turn slowly to meet his gaze, the rough pads of his gloves chafing the skin of your wrists. You twist your arm, trying to wring it out of his grip. “Simon, let me go. I’m not in the fucking mood for this.” You spat, slapping his hand. He very easily overpowered you, and he knew that. He stood there, not budging as his death grip grew stronger. “You’re hurting me, Simon.” You cry, feeling the suppressed emotions and frustrations starting to simmer as they threaten to wreak havoc on you. He lessens his grip, but he steps closer to you, now hovering over your face. You turn your face away from him, staring at the floor as you feel his breath heat your skin. “You don’t need to be jealous of her, you know. Konig is nothing special.” He says smugly, disregarding the pure anger written on your features. "He's a door opener. A useless fuckin' wannabe sniper. Why are you so broken up over 'im?" You pause at his words. Did he really need to kick you while you were down?

You glare at him, trying to free yourself from his grasp once more. He finally lets you go, and you waste no time in pressing the elevator button. You don’t respond to him, hoping that if you ignored him he might take a hint and leave you alone. As you listen to the elevator making its way to your floor, you feel Simon step closer and closer behind you. “Don’t ignore me. You can talk to me.” He says, his voice a low grumble. You stand your ground, pursing your lips and scoffing at him. He sighs behind you. The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. You step inside, pressing the button to the ground floor. You raise your head to meet his gaze, and he wastes no time in stepping into the elevator with you before you can close the door on him. “Come on. Stop being so stubborn. Why won’t you-”

“Simon, the last time I confided in you about my feelings, you rejected me and led me to believe you cared when you couldn’t have given less of a shit about them. And now you want to act like you give a fuck about what I feel? Please, spare me.” You say sarcastically, shaking your head at him. He doesn’t break his gaze, but instead keeps his eyes on you, running them over your face. For a split second, his eyes land on your lips. You feel your heart flutter as you notice it, being that you wouldn’t have caught it if you blinked. You curse him in your head, knowing this would lead nowhere good. He was leading you on again, giving you false hope. He was conjuring old feelings that you were sure were buried deep in you. Sure, the memories manage to seep through once in a while, but ultimately - he had you whipped- and he knew that. The way you wanted to drop to your knees and let him degrade you, wishing he’d slam you up against this wall and take you right in this elevator…all because he looked at your lips. You needed to get a hold of your feelings, and fast. You were sure you would lose control if he tried anything, and it made you feel less than. You lacked self control when it came to your feelings, leading you to be hurt many times. You lacked self control especially when it came to Simon.

“Love…I..” He steps closer to you, and by God’s will, the elevator doors slid open. You rushed out, grabbing your car keys from your bag and speed walked out of the door and to your car. Your eyes stung against the winter air, flushing your cheeks. You fumbled with the keys, pressing the button to unlock the door before you reached it. The sun had begun to set, rays of sunlight beaming over your face. As you reached your car, you heard him approach behind you. You groaned, turning to face him. You glared at him, his eyes pleading with you to listen to what he had to say. Your head was spinning, not knowing what you wanted more: For him to leave you alone, or take you right there, fucking you so deep you could feel him in your guts. You stood there, watching him in silence. The wind picked up, pushing your hair into your face. He stepped forward, his face hovering dangerously close to yours. Your breath hitched in your throat, not knowing how to react. Your mind constantly fought between pushing him off, telling him to fuck off and to quit these games of his, or just submitting to his every touch and letting the thoughts of resisting die in your head. “Please, just listen to me.” He says, running his hands up your arms. You gently shy away from his touch, shaking your head. “I don’t want to hear what you have to say, Simon. You’ve said enough already.” You say, a slight tremor in your voice from adrenaline. You didn’t know why he was doing this, complicating the feelings for him that you had worked so hard to store away. Why was he doing this? Now, of all times, when you found yourself remotely over him and wanted someone else.

“You’re right. I’ve said enough. You’re completely right about that.” He reaches up, brushing your hair from your face and tucking it behind your ear. The rough material of his gloves scrape your cheek. You wanted them off, his bare fingers touching you instead. “You know what they say, darling. Actions speak louder than words.” He continues, slipping his fingers to the back of your head, a handful of hair entangling his hand. With his free hand, he slowly reaches up to his face, swiftly lifting the balaclava over his lips. You had never seen his face before, and it seemed like your world stopped spinning at the slight glimpse of his strong jaw. A discolored scar ran up his upper lip, ending right on top of his lip line. He parted his lips, his breath now hot on your face. Your breathing trembled as he dipped his head forward, clashing his mouth with yours. You whine into the kiss, your knees weakening under you. His grip tightens on your hair, his body pushing you into the back door of your car. You fumble with the handle, not breaking the kiss as his hand lands on your ass, roughly squeezing it through your pants. You get the car door open, and Simon groans into the kiss as he pushes you inside. You break the kiss, sliding into the backseat as he lies you down on the seat. He hovers over your face as you lie back on the seat, reaching behind him and slamming the car door. He wraps his hand around your throat, beckoning you to sit up with him. He kisses you again, aggressively shoving his tongue in your mouth, groaning into you. The taste of him on your lips was enough to drive you absolutely feral, wanting more of his taste on your lips. He pulls you onto his lap, squeezing your hips as you straddle him. You moan softly as you grind your hips against his, the fabric barrier frustrating you and causing a wetness to pool between your thighs. You wanted nothing more in that moment than to diminish the very thing that held him back from being inside you already. You reached down, palming at his growing erection. He groaned into your mouth, throwing his head back at your touch. “I need you, love…don’t know how fucking long I’ve needed you.” He breathes, his grip on your hips growing stronger.

“Please…Simon. J-just fuck me already.” You moan softly, raising your hand to claw at the collar of his shirt. He wastes no time in ripping it off like it was on fire, throwing it onto the car floor. He sits up, leaning you backwards as he undoes his belt. His jeans were uncomfortably tight around his crotch at this point in time, his shaft painfully pressed against his balls. He groans as he slides his jeans down to his thighs, rolling you off him to get them off the rest of the way. You watched lustfully as you started ripping your own clothes off, desperately yearning for his touch on your bare skin. You’re left in nothing but your panties, the cold draft rising goosebumps on your skin. After sliding his jeans down to his ankles, he leans over to grab you by the hips, dragging you onto his lap once more. He snaked an arm around your waist, keeping you close to him. You’re unable to move, your nipples grazing his toned chest. The sensitivity of your hardened nipples causes a jolt to run through you, letting out a soft whine at the skin to skin contact. He notices your sensitivity, resulting in a low chuckle to rumble out of his lips. He smirks, staring at you mischievously. You let out a yelp, trailing off into a pleasured moan as he pinched your right nipple, dipping his head forward and taking the other in his mouth. His tongue swirls around the hardened bud, causing pleasure to shoot straight into your core, ecstasy flowing through your blood. “You sound so fuckin’ sexy, love. Keep going.”

You continue to moan as you arch your back against him, taking more and more of your breast into his mouth. He leaves hickies on the soft, silky skin of your breasts, leaning back to look at his handiwork. He suddenly stops, beckoning for you to turn your back to him. You do as you're told, turning around on his lap with your back facing his chest. He slowly runs his hands down your thighs, opening your legs and placing a foot on each of his knees so you’re wide open for him. He grabs and palms at your thighs, resting a hand right over your pussy, slick with arousal. He chuckles as he feels how slick you are, leaning down to kiss your neck, whispering against your skin. “Look how goddamn wet you are for me. You’re just a little whore, yeah?” He whispers, slapping your pussy with an open palm, causing you to yelp. “You know I’d treat you better than he could, don’t you, love.” He asks, saying it more as a statement than a question. You nod, throwing your head back onto his chest as he slips a finger into your panties. He drags a finger from your hole to your clit, sliding it up and down painfully slow. “Oi, use your words, princess.” He demands, stopping his finger, making you whine out of desperation. “Y-yes! You can treat me better than he can, Simon.”

“Good girl.” He continues sliding his finger between your pussy lips, the lewd sounds of your slick permeating the air. He lifts you by your hips, as if you weighed nothing to him. You feel him positioning the tip of his cock over your panties, swollen and leaking with precum. You buck your hips in need, your head rolling around on his chest. He chuckles deviously, moving your panties to the side as he exposes your clit to the chilled air. “Tell me you want it, love. Tell me how bad you want me to fuck you until your screamin’ my name so loud the fuckin’ windows shatter.” His gruff voice sends a chill down your spine, a predatorial lust laced in his tone. You part your lips to speak, your breath hitching in your throat as he slides his tip between your slick folds, causing a groan to escape his lips. “I want it so bad, Simon. I want you so bad. P-please.” You beg, barely able to get your words out as he uses your clit to smear his precum all over your cunt, both of you now wet with each other’s juices. You moan softly, holding back the scream of desperation you so badly wanted to let out. “Good fuckin’ girl. You want my cock in you that bad, aye?” He says, a grunt following as he lines the tip with your hole. “Y-yes! P-please, Simon.” You beg, bucking your hips forward. You feel how big he is already, throbbing and thick, hard like you’ve never felt before. You widen your legs, trying to lower yourself onto him. He holds you up by your hips, stopping you from taking what you need. You whine, your clit throbbing and swollen with need. “Needy fuckin’ girl.” He chuckles, pushing into you further. You both groan, your delicate moans soft and silky compared to his guttural, manly grunts. He lowers you onto him slowly, bucking his hips ever so slightly. He seemed to be holding back, and that frustrated you. You tried to push against his hands once more, trying to suck in just one more measly little inch. He exhaled sharply, suddenly wrapping a strong hand around your throat.

“Quit bein’ so fuckin’ greedy, love. You’re like a bitch in heat for Christ's sake.” He says, the grip on your throat growing as you struggle to breathe. You take the lack of his other hand to stop you for granted, smugly pushing yourself down on him further. You smile triumphantly, feeling the electricity flow through your core. He groans in your ear, tightening his grip on your throat. Your air flow restricts, and you couldn’t have cared less. He was almost inside of you completely, and you could feel resistance as you struggled to take him. Catching his breath from the unexpected death grip your pussy had on him, he speaks. “I was tryin’ to take it slow for you, impatient fuckin’ slut.” He says, raising a hand to your face, landing an open palmed slap to your soft skin. The pain stung you so deliciously, making you giggle with delirium. Simon scoffs behind you, astonished at how absolutely filthy you were. “If that’s how ya wanna play it, love. Fine with me.” He says, and before you got the chance to hear an explanation, he slams into you all in one go, the throbbing tip of his cock pushing past the spongy wall that hadn’t been touched in quite a while. He begins to thrust his hips upward, plowing into you as if there were no tomorrow. You yelled out, your sounds a mixture of pained yells and lustful moans. His hand still had quite of a grip on your throat, causing your face to grow a deep shade of red as he fucked you. Noticing your lack of airflow, he lets go of your neck.

He struggles to get his cock in you all the way, causing him to slow his pace. He groans in your ear as you grip his cock like a vice.

“Relax. Let me in, baby.” He brings his fingers up to his mouth, spitting into them. He wraps an arm around your front, resting his lubed fingers on your clit. As he draws wet circles on your clit, your walls flutter and spasm around his dick, allowing him further entry. He lets out a low chuckle, continuing to rub your clit, the lewd sounds of him spreading his saliva between your pussy lips bouncing off the windows. “Gotta show the girl some love for her to open up to me, right, lass?” He says, his accent thick on his tongue. You nod, letting out a string of slurred “mhmms” as he continues loving on your clit. He starts to pump into you again, grunting and moaning in your ear. He curses, throwing his head back as he fucks you. Your heels dig into his knees, hoisting yourself up as you throw yourself down on him in sync with his thrusts. This seems to incapacitate him, ripping the thoughts right from his head. Your tits jiggle with every thrust, your hair hanging down and brushing against his face. He adores the view of you, trying your hardest not to cum as he pounds the spot that drives you nuts without missing a beat. The steady rhythm made you feel like you haven’t felt ever before, coming close to your end quicker than you ever had. His dick was working brutal magic on your walls, his fingers lovingly caress and flick at your clit. The mixture of feelings soon became too much for you to handle. You clenched against him, the sounds of your inner slick coating his cock turning you on like never before.

“Gonna cum, sweetheart?” He leans down, whispering into your neck. You nod furiously, eyes tearing up at the absolute love he was playing on your clit with. As if it were his own cock, feeling your pleasure ripple through you and into his blood as he touched you. In this moment, you knew. He had you. There wasn’t any escaping him after this, and there was no escaping your feelings any longer. The unsettling yet comforting feeling made your core tighten, conjuring an orgasm so strong, you’d prove to him with direct evidence that you were his, and no one else's.

“ ‘m gonna cum, Simon. ‘m gonna cum” You slur, pressing the back of your head into his chest. “Cum for me, baby. I want you to fuckin’ cum all over my cock. You beautiful fuckin’ whore.” His words send you over the edge, a warmth rushing straight to your clit, spraying his hand with your squirt as you yell out, your eyes stinging with tears as you had never felt anything so. fucking. intimate. Your walls pulsate around him, your thighs instinctively trying to close themselves at the overstimulation. Your eyes roll into the back of your head. Simon wraps his hands around your thighs, prying them open with a strength you didn’t know he had. Simon seemed to enjoy your orgasm as much as you did, and it seemed that he got off more on watching you absolutely crumble at his touch. You knew it was something predatorial, but you chose to enjoy it anyway. As your walls fluttered and tightened around him, his grip on your thighs moved to his fingertips, leaving dark red marks in its wake. You knew he was close, and you didn’t want to admit that the thought of him filling you up with his seed, made you go feral. You continued bouncing yourself on him, his face now buried in your hair as he cursed and moaned. He was no longer bucking his hips at a rhythmic pace, now sloppily pumping into you as your cunt did its work on him. “Fuck, baby. I’m so fuckin’ close.” He gripped your thighs tighter, causing you to wince at the pain. It felt as if he was trying to rip your flesh open with his fingers, the feeling of your hot, squelching walls, fresh from an orgasm driving him to insanity. You smile as he continues moaning nasty nothings in your ear.

“Gonna breed you, make you mine… forever.”

“You’re mine now, do you understand that?”

“You won’t ever think of fuckin’ another man when I’m done with you. Do. You. Understand.”

“Do you think Konig could fuck you like this? Didn’t think so, baby. Fuckin’ pathetic.”

“Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine - fuuuuckin’ hell”

You keep a steady rhythm, rolling your hips onto his cock as the heels of your feet dig into his knees. He lets out a long guttural groan, breathing heavily against your hair. You feel his cock throb inside of you, his seed filling you to the brim of leaking. You feel some of him slip out of you, dribbling down your hole and onto your asscheek. He thrusts into you slowly, fucking his seed back into you. You belonged to him now, and God help any man who so much as looked at you the wrong way. You both stay connected inside of you for a minute, breathing into the air. The windows of the car were now fogged up, the chill making its way across your skin as you curled up in his lap.

“Mine. All fuckin’ mine”.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Simon’s lips curl into a grin as he slides your panties down your legs, balling them up in his hand as he tucks them into his pocket. You scoffed at him as you dressed yourself, still feeling the warmth of him drip down your walls.

“What would the team say if they found out you’re a panty stealer?” You ask, teasing him as you slip your shirt on.

“Well, depends on who it is. Soap’ll definitely beg for a whiff.” He says, your jaw dropping open. You smack his chest playfully. He grabs your hand, pulling you into a kiss. He kisses you gently, a great difference from how he’d been kissing you earlier.

“Feelin’ better, love?” He says, breath hot on your lips.

“Very much so.” You chuckle. You look at his lips, wondering what else was behind that mask of his. You look back and forth between his eyes, slowly reaching your hand forward, pulling the hem of his balaclava. “Let me see you, Simon” You say gently. He wraps his hands around your wrist, not stopping you, just holding you. You see a glint of nervousness in his eyes as you pull it from his head. You smile as your eyes scan over his face. His blonde hair sat messily atop his head, his features all coming together to make the most strikingly beautiful man you’d ever seen. His breathing grows heavier as he sees your reaction, seemingly releasing a breath he’d been holding. He smirks at you, slowly bringing your hand to his face. You caress his stubbled cheek, running your fingertips along his strong nose, crooked from multiple breaks. You softly run your fingers over his lips and jawline, your eyes lidded with lust. The way he looked back at you, confirmed everything you’d been trying to prevent yourself from believing all these months. “If you felt the same way about me, why did you…?” You start, tears stinging your eyes.

“Things were complicated, love. Or not, I don’t know. I was a coward. You made me a coward.” He admits, a somber tone to his voice that you never expected to hear from him. He was usually a humorous, flat-toned man who expressed himself with silence, or witticisms, and there was no in between. The moment felt fragile, as if it would shatter if you spoke too loudly. You smile at him with shaky lips, a tear falling down your cheek. “All this time I thought…I don’t know, I thought you hated me too much to want to fix it.” He continues, swiping the tear from your face with his thumb. You felt as if you spoke you would break, so you kissed him. He breathes heavily into the kiss, wrapping his arms around your body. “I’m not good at this, love. But, you make me feel ways I thought were never possible for someone like me. And I promise, with every fiber of my being…I’ll never let this go. I’ll never let you go. No matter how hard you try and run from me.” He says, breaking into a smile at the last words. You smile at him, slipping your fingers through his blonde locks. His eyes gaze into your soul, his words settling into your heart, engraving themselves in stone.

“I hated seeing you so broken up over that prick…I guess it fueled me to be better. To be better for you.” He says, resting his head in your hands.

“I only wanted him as a rebound, Simon.” You say, a sly smirk on your face. He scoffs at you, raising his head to meet yours. His smile was still so new to you, enough to make you crumble at his feet without shame. “You’re a damn minx, you know that?” He says, a soft chuckle escaping from his lips. “You don’t have to worry about that useless bloke anymore.” He continues, pressing a warm kiss to your cheek. “I can treat you better than he ever can, love”.

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38riku · 3 months ago

Note

Good morning / afternoon

If you are willing, would you be able to write a drabble / headcannons for any Twisted Wonderland characters (any dorm is fine) for a reader who’s based off Black Pearl Cookie from CRK?

You don’t have to do this request !

Love your work - swan anon 🦢

thank you sweets ! i chose octavinelle and malleus – if you want any other dorms just let me know <3 hope you enjoy

𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓

Black Pearl Cookie!Reader x Octavinelle / Black Pearl Cookie!Reader x Malleus (reader is not the prefect.) not proofread.

𝐚. 𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐨

azul watches you, to your knowledge, and although it's a bit creepy you have no intention of confronting him about him as long as he keeps his distance.

however, the reason he is watching you is to do just that.

he's familiar with the tales of where you're from. nothing good comes in or out of the duskgloom sea, yet, here you were, and you had him completely enthralled.

then he overblots and you see him.

days later and be still wonders just what you thought of him. is he worse than the terrors of the sea you call home? judging by your looks, he'd be the only terror that would reside there.

azul lets his nerves get the better of him and approaches you when the lounge is nearly empty.

"i would like to apologize for ... the vulgar display of my overblot and octopus-like ... form." clearing his throat, he turned to leave, only to stop when you spoke. "you think you look vulgar?"

your melancholic tone caused his head to whirl in your direction. "the overblot was a bit much but there is nothing wrong with the way you look azul."

he blinks in shock, for the sincerity you held was that of someone who understood – someone who had insecurities of their own – and even though he couldn't fathom what you lacking, he didn't question it.

"yes, i suppose there isn't."

somehow, the small moments of conversation happened scarcely, despite this, he pieced together the small pieces of information you shared.

you had sisters that you adore. he could see the faint twinkle in your eyes as you spoke about them. you tone, on the other hand, was strained.

'you feel inferior to your sisters' he thought.

your view on love was sour, eluding to a past heartbreak that you haven't recovered from, and contributed to your current state of mind.

why?

why is every thought consumed by you?

why did he feel the aching need to dig deeper, knowing he may never reach the bottom and may not resurface?

you knew he can take the pain away. no matter how large the scar, the deepness of the cut, the memories that you held close — you don't deserve to hurt.

he sighed, tucking the golden scroll away.

"i hope you come to realize that the fate you've been given isn't one you must live."

𝐣. 𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐜𝐡

jade is rather good at reading social cues. yours to be specific. he's unintentionally devoted his time catering to you when you're in his vicinity.

you don't like to be bothered. a quick greeting or farewell is all you're willing to muster, and he respects that. unfortunately not everyone does.

at least when you're at the lounge he can help you. whether its sending his brother their way or redirecting them on his own terms it doesn't matter.

he can't tell if you've noticed his meddling but he is quite sure you've realized that no one approaches you in the lounge, which causes you to frequent more often.

"good evening. shall we start with drinks?"

it's jarring the way his mind can be filled with you but he acts just like any other member of the staff.

he watches as you scan over the new seasonal items, honing in on the desert items — leading him to believe you had a sweet tooth — "the pearl decorated cookie spread please ... and my usual drink."

you handed him back the laminated sheet, thanking him promptly and returning to your work.

although service is typically quick, the speed at which you received everything was noticeably faster.

"i hope you enjoy. in fact, i came up with the spread design myself." his comment didn't come off as boastful or arrogant, in all honesty you couldn't quite tell what was hidden in his tone.

"as the first person to order it i would like to hear your thoughts."

as you obliged, he took a seat on the other side of the booth, gauging your reaction.

when jade saw your face light up briefly he felt a sense of satisfaction that made him warm. "they use imported sugars and spices from the duskgloom sea. your presence inspired me to add such delicacy to the menu. i'm delighted that it suits your taste."

your eyes. he didn't mean to let it slip it was his idea — you as his muse — and that your delight was his ultimate goal, but, he couldn't help it when you stared at him with such intensity.

"i'm not quite sure what you're getting at."

"please don't think too much about it. as a frequent visitor, i simply wanted to ensure your comfortability." he excused, placing a hand across his chest before bowing slightly. "my apologies if—"

"no need. it seems i misunderstood." finishing the last of the platter, you slid out of the booth, "thank you for the menu feature. i'll be sure to enjoy it as long as it's on the menu."

making your way to the bar to pay, he couldn't help but chuckle once you were out of ear shot.

you didn't misunderstand. he did it to make you feel ... better.

if you wouldn't allow anyone close enough to fix it, he'll continue to try and alleviate your suffering from a distance.

𝐟. 𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐜𝐡

your relationship with the eel is grating. you aren't quite sure why he constantly insists on pushing your buttons or how he winds up in your bubble daily.

the reason is irrelevant. for all you know, he does it for his amusement which, irritates you even further that someone could be so ignorant. especially since you've lashed out on him a few times – earning you detention and a reminder of the rules regarding magic use.

"heya oyster."

you flinched back, whirling around and glaring at said eel. "awe, did I scare you? i didn't mean it." there wasn't any remorse in his tone but you don't think he meant to startle you.

"i'm not doing this with you right now." you huffed, not wanting the conversation to escalate.

"ha? do what?" walking off isn't that effective when he's lanky and athletic and used to chasing people down. "i just wanna talk to ya."

"i don't want to talk. not to you, not to anyone." any person with sense would leave it at that. your harsh tone sent chills down the spines of passersby's, ducking their heads and rushing past to give the two of you the walkway.

it seems that a majority got the hint except him.

"i know that oyster. i'm just wondering why you go through all this trouble being mean when it's not you." yawning, he missed the way you stopped walking, having to double back a second later.

floyd isn't easily intimidated. he's usually the intimidating one. but, he can admit you made him shrink just a bit. especially when you used magic. he didn't know the duskgloom sea was habitable; let alone to mages.

he may've approached you differently if he knew. then maybe he wouldn't have returned to his dorm soaking wet and partially electrocuted.

"you don't know me."

"don't have to." shrugging, he continued. "you're scared. trust me, i see fear everyday. yours just isn't 'ah gonna get beat up' y'know?"

he wasn't helping his case.

"just sayin!" raising his hands in surrender, he watched you stomp away to your dorm and didn't follow you this time.

floyd groaned aloud. that went terribly and now he's in no mood to go to class.

instead he goes to his room, flopping on the bed and rethinking his plans. you didn't want to be like that, yet asking you to drop the act up front doesn't seem to be the best idea.

he knows you're a pearl — pretty and shiny — and he knows you were like that from the beginning.

what made you put up such a hard shell?

when he finds out, he'll make sure to squeeze it until you're satisfied.

𝐦. 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐚

malleus desires inclusion. he longs to be invited to events, participate in conversation with his peers, and not be feared for existing.

that is why you became the object of his silent rage.

people want to befriend you. they approach you with the intention of companionship and you respond with clipped words, not returning their kind regards.

"you don't truly believe they were always that way, do you?" lilia questioned him when he explained his personal grudge.

in hindsight, his assumption was silly. instead of viewing it from another's perspective he watched you and realized that it wasn't only silly but ridiculous.

something weighed heavily on your heart. he noticed it when your mind wanders during lectures, in the lunch hall, and even walking to and from the school.

you've experienced the compassion of another as well as the betrayal one can cause when they're wedged in your heart. how did he not notice it prior to lilia's input?

the expression you wore is similar to his grandmother's.

"there are fates worse than death." he recalls her words. right here — watching you from afar read alone on a bench — is where he understood what she meant.

"never being able to love again." malleus whispered. he had you all wrong, blinded by jealousy he foolishly harbored towards you.

as swiftly as he could without frightening you, he approached your figure.

"child of the sea." he greeted, "i felt inclined to inform you that there is an abandoned shrine in the eastern part of the woods around the school."

"it is quiet and no one ventures that far on a whim. there's a small lake as well, if that interests you."

bowing, he bid you farewell and left without hearing what you'd say. uncharacteristically his nerves got the better of him as he vanished.

that night, he wondered if you would visit the area in your free time. perhaps he should've stayed and awaited your reply, yet, his face warmed in embarrassment the longer he thought.

he is a fool. an utter fool. the aching feeling he felt must be guilt, mustn't it? or is it the same ache you felt when you let someone in your heart ...?

#₊˚ʚ — 🦢 anon #twisted wonderland x you #twst x gn reader #twst x you #twst x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul x reader #floyd x reader #floyd leech x reader #jade leech x reader #malleus draconia x reader #malleus x reader

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solbaby7 · 11 months ago

Text

Make You Feel My Love

pairing: azriel x reader

[ part 2 to Make You Feel Something ]

warnings: sexual tension, possible sexual descriptions, not intended for readers under 18, swearing, best friends who fuck, possible typos

summary: Late nights and dim lights with a Shadowsinger who bares it all when it comes to you.

[part 1 ]

—

Practice makes perfect.

At least that’s what you told yourself every time the sun would set and Azriel came strolling through the doors of your bedchamber. He’s grown rather confident as a muse, such perfect features translating on dozens of pages in your sketchbook and countless canvases with him draped over the throne or laid out in a field of flowers. Two of them were a set, a close enough depiction of the shadowsinger in a spring, water up to his chest and inky hair dripping over his forehead—he looked peaceful, like the world hadn’t yet taken a piece of his soul. Most were divided between the two of you; stolen slices of sunshine and bargained bits of darkness hung proudly on his walls, even the nude one had its own home in his closet. “Where do you want me?”

“On the bed.”

He raises a brow, a smirk growing in the corner of full lips but he obeys. “Skipping right to the fun parts, are we?”

“Not this time,” You state firmly, arms crossing at your chest and putting your foot down. “I have three sketchbooks filled with half-finished pieces because you and that silver tongue of yours.”

“You’ve never complained about it before.” Azriel plops onto your bed face down, arms curling under the same pillow he was burying his face in. “Why don’t we do this in your room more often? I’m sure sitting for hours will be much more bearable with the smell of you surrounding me.”

“We stopped doing that because you kept falling asleep.” You’re not even facing him, bare feet smacking against the hardwood floors as you dragged over a chair and the small side table beside it. The soft blue book you pull out is far more intricate than any of the others he’d seen you use before, a special set of charcoals were pullout and sharpened. Stained fingers smear at the page, giving a rough base to sketch upon and Azriel finds he falls in love with the messy ponytail you pull your hair into each time before you’d started.

Azriel made a little noise, humming into the comfort of your sheets after shrugging off his shorts; no underwear this time. Just endless miles of hard muscles and giant wings that settled into the soft fabric of your duvet. “Even better, I’m quite handsome when I sleep.”

“You snore.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Is it? Shall I ask Rhys to join us? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind poking around in my head to help confirm.”

It was a harmless taunt; one he probably still wouldn’t have laughed at even when you were just friends. But now—this. The late nights and early mornings laughing about nothing, fingers smeared in whatever medium you’d chosen to use that time. Sometimes it would lead to more; feverish mouths molding against one another, your fingers tracing at bare skin while Az’s greedy hands tug off your clothes. Soft promises branded at your flesh each time your bodies connected, shadows in a frenzy, touching the places his hands couldn’t get to but he swallows every moan, every blissed out whimper until he was full off you and the air you breathed.

Other times were softer, two friends bonding over something they didn’t have to share with others. A reprieve from expectations; a place where Azriel bared his body and allowed another to find a beauty in him he had yet to see. “You wouldn’t dare—you’d get too jealous having someone else looking at me the way you do.”

“Maybe, I’ll just think of a different memory; of me before a mirror with my hands between my thighs.”

It’s too easy to push the right buttons; amber irises peering at you over the plush pillow beneath him, wide shoulders tense and body half covered by the sheets. “That’s not funny.”

You’re already sketching the outlines of the bed frame, the mattress and the crinkled pillows. Rough outlines of a figure beginning to form before your very eyes as you continued, fresh linen sheets, a thick duvet that smelled of you bunched low at Azriel’s waist. “I wasn’t laughing.” He shifts in bed, hair messy and gaze darkening when taking you in; giving you time to change your words. “You moved.”

“Take it back.”

“Why?” You poke harder, amused grin plastered on your face. “You jealous?”

To your surprise, Azriel nods; just once but it’s enough to have your stomach doing flips. “I don’t like the thought of someone else seeing you like that—someone that’s not me.”

The movement doesn’t alter the direction of the sketch too much and the way he rests on his side, upper body propped up by one strong arm while the other rested over his stomach and he’s not as awkward with his hands anymore—allowing them to just be. You don’t dare look in his eyes, fearful of the secrets he’d lure out of you and you linger around areas that have already been completed. The strong lines of his waist, the dark trail of hair, the muscles of his abdomen that seems to flex slightly when your stare lasts a beat too long. “That your way of telling me not to be seeing other people?”

“Have you been seeing other people?”

You try to ignore the fire that burns in your belly at the jealously he openly displays and your hand pulls away from the paper, a brow raised in question. “Have you?”

It’s difficult to maintain eye contact under the intensity of such a rich gold and you’re fairly certain he can hear the way your heart thuds in your chest. This was the closest either of you had gotten to verifying what it was you were doing and suddenly the warmth from the fire is entirely too much. A finger hooks under the neckline of your shirt, tugging gently in a motion that Azriel doesn’t miss, tongue darting out to wet his lip. “I think we both know the answer to that.”

True.

It wasn’t like he had the time to juggle another woman between all of his responsibilities and spending every spare second sneaking off into whatever room was empty for a few minutes of skin on skin, mouth to mouth and tongue sliding over tongue. “Maybe, I want to hear you say it.” It comes out a little shy, head tilting to the side to rest against your hand and shadows twist up your ankle, around your calf and over your knees. They stop at your thighs, the cool sensation almost resembling the pressure of hands when they tease at the hem of your sleep shorts. “Az—“

“You have to hear the words?” The shadowsingers voice goes devastatingly low, unbearably taunting; luring you in and daring you to bite. Play with me. His shadows seem to croon, tracing letters in your skin too gentle for you to decipher but the heated stare greedily feasting on your reactions is a big enough clue. “Can you not feel it in how I touch you? How I handle you?” The cool pressure creeps past the silk of your shorts, fleeting touches grazing spots that needed more before they dart off to the next. “Is it not clear when I look at you?”

“Azriel—“ It comes out breathless, bones melting to nothing in the cushions of the couch. “The drawing.”

“Who’s stopping you, sweet thing?” The shadows do the work for him, raising the charcoal back in your grasp while the other extends out your sketchbook. “I’ll keep still while you finish.”

A double meaning in the best case.

No doubt, this was his payback for making him spill his load in your hand like some teenager still learning their bodies.

His shadows are relentless, memorizing every curve and branding their touch in their wake. Focusing is near impossible, hands shaky and breathing choppy when forcing yourself to relax; to continue drawing the tortuously beautiful body before you. Az smirks when you pause, throat bobbing with a swallow when you feel the cool caress graze your chest, teasing over peaked nipples. You can feel him following your every move, every drag of pencil to paper; a few of the lines are less than neat but you can’t find it in you to care when Azriel’s attention on you is so addictive. “Can you feel it now?”

“I’ve always felt it, Az.” There’s such vulnerability laced in your tone, eyes trained on your paper; copying the furrow of his brow, the straight line of his nose, the plush of his mouth. “Just need to hear you say it.”

There’s a brief pause; enough time to sign the page and neatly put your utensils away but instead of tearing the page free like usual, you shut the baby blue book and tie it tight. “I want you,” He confesses when you stand, your back is to him and the words come out so quiet you barely hear it. Your body stills and your soft inhale of breath is encouragement enough for him to keep going. “—as more than just friends.”

A slow glance over your shoulder, book still in your grasp and now you’re definitely sure he can hear your heartbeat—everyone in the whole damn city probably could. “Yeah?”

He nods, a smile creeping in the corner of full lips at the way you’re looking at him and Azriel shifts to make room when you move closer, hands and knees sinking into the mattress when you sit yourself on top of him. “I want to kiss you in front of people,” Warm palms dips under your shirt, strong hands gripping at your sides with the most perfect pressure when explores the shape of you. Az lets a pleased sound rumble in his chest at the way you fall into him, allowing him access to a body he’d laid claim to long before he’d ever even touched you. “And have a cheesy picture of your face hanging up behind me in my office.” A blush fans, soft laughter filling the room but inside your screaming; on top of the world with no plan on how to get down. “Just want you. Only you.”

His hands keep trailing higher, pausing at the curve of your breasts and his pupils go wide when you grind down on him, pulling the shirt clean off and throwing it somewhere behind you. “Then have me, I’m yours. Only yours.”

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar #azriel #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #acotar azriel #azriel acotar #azriel fluff #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction #acofas

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pastafossa · 4 months ago

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Pastafossa's Daredevil Masterlist

To stop my massive Matt Murdock x Reader fic, The Red Thread, from devouring my Daredevil masterlist, it now has its own masterlist, which can be found here! For organization’s sake, I’m still leaving the fic link and summary here. All of the romance in the fics below are Matt Murdock x Reader, save for those fics where there is no romance mentioned.

🔥 = Smut // 🌧️ = Angst // 🌻= fluff // ⚡= Reader Favorite // 🐧 = Set in The Red Thread fic universe, though not always required reading

Full Fics

✞ “The Red Thread” [AO3] (F!Reader)🔥🌧️🌻⚡

It's said that every soul is connected to another by a red thread, and that these two souls are destined to meet. The thread, though it may tangle or stretch, will never break. That's not your experience, lucky or unlucky enough as you are to see the strings that bind people together. A red thread is developed and grown, not born, and you've worked hard to weed out any semblance of crimson that might cling to you. You pay your bills, you keep your head down, and you find whatever lost people or items you're hired to sniff out. Then the Devil of Hell's Kitchen tags along on a job, and your plan falls apart.

✞ "Moan For Me" [AO3] [Tumblr] (GN!reader)🔥⚡

You wanted every last bit of him, whether his body wanted to give it or not, and he’s just as eager to share.

✞ "Ode to a Coat” [AO3] [Tumblr] (F!Reader)🔥

Inspired by Born Again set shots. Matt wears his new coat to Josie’s and your thoughts turn to pure sin.

✞ "Do I Need to Beg?” [AO3] [Tumblr] (F!Reader)🔥

Inspired by Born Again's leaked trailer showing Matt with a beard. After a long trip away, you come home to Matt sporting a new beard. Fortunately, he's been missing you, too...

✞ “This is a Code-F” [AO3] [Tumblr] (GN!Reader)🌻⚡

Matt gets the flu, and it’s up to you to look after him. How hard could it be?

✞ “It’s Really... Yellow?” [Tumblr] (F!Reader)🌻��

Foggy needs you to help him convince Matt the new red and yellow suit is terrible. Unfortunately for Foggy, you find Matt just as attractive in red and yellow.

✞ “A Brief Existential Crisis” [Tumblr] (F!Reader)🌻🐧

After the events of She-Hulk, Matt requires a little pep talk... and maybe some head scratches while you’re at it.

✞ “I’m Sending A Raven” [AO3] (F!Reader)🌧️🐧

After you're kidnapped by The Man in the White Coat, Matt and his allies are in a race against time to save you. But will he make it before all hope is lost? (Now with fanart. Click with caution, it's dark)

✞ “Hubris” [AO3] [Tumblr] (Vague MM x F!Reader)🌻

Bucky Barnes and Matt Murdock are human disasters without a lick of sense. At least Sam and you are there to keep things under control.

✞ “I’ll Be Better, I Promise” [Tumblr] (GN!Reader)🌧️⚡

You get insecure and think Matt deserves better, so you try to leave him.

✞ “Appreciation” [AO3] [Tumblr] (F!Reader)🌻⚡

You show your appreciation for Matt’s chest by planting your face in it while he teases you about it.

✞ “Poor Thing” [Tumblr] (F!Reader)🔥

Based on the prompt 'Somnophilia' for Tuna-Tober 2024's prompt challenge.

✞ “Sharing is Caring” [Tumblr] (F!Reader)🔥

Based on the prompt 'Are you blushing?' and '69' for Tuna-Tober 2024's prompt challenge.

✞ "Memory” [Tumblr] (F!Reader) 🌧️🐧

Amnesia angst in which The Red Thread’s Reader loses her memories of her romance with Matt just before she comes back from her 3 months away.

✞ “Haunted” [Tumblr] (F!Reader)🌧️🐧

A sequel to the above. You give yourself one month to see if your memories return, but Matt finds himself in a depressive spiral over the loss of what he had with you.

✞ "We’re Not Keeping Him” [Tumblr] (F!Reader)🌻🐧

You bring home a kitten and Matt is resistant... at first.

✞ “What Was That?” [Tumblr] (F!Reader)🌻🐧

Matt and you have to stop into a haunted house and things get spooky, at least until Matt’s catholicism saves the day.

✞ “The Biggest Tree In All The Kitchen” [AO3] [Tumblr] ( F!Reader)🌻🐧

Matt figures out you want a big Christmas tree, and the two of you attempt to drag an 18-footer into your apartment. It goes as well as expected.

✞ “And The Holly Cookies, Too” [AO3] [Tumblr] (F!Reader)🌻🐧

Matt is determined to be your Christmas cookie taste tester, even if it kills him.

Ficlets and Drabbles

✞ What If: Matt presents you with a courtship rock in front of the penguin’s zoo exhibit, and Foggy loses it. (F!Reader)🌻🐧⚡

✞ What If: You and Matt develop a tradition of hiding the rock for each other to find when either of you has a bad day. (F!Reader)🌻🐧

✞ What If: Matt is marrying you and gets a penguin cake topper (F!Reader)🌻🐧

✞ How on earth did Matt get his new red and gold Daredevil suit through airport security? (F!Reader)🌻

✞ Matt is basically a big cat, which means you have to cup, smoosh, and kiss his face at least once. (GN!Reader)🌻⚡

✞ A peaceful start to Valentines for you and Matt (F!Reader)🌻🐧

✞ Art-inspired drabble of you topping Matt (art included) (F!Reader)🔥

✞ To contrast above: Devil!Matt topping and biting you (F!Reader)🔥⚡

✞ Matt Murdock and his sensitive thighs (F!Reader)🔥

✞ Melting Matt Murdock with some head scratches (F!Reader)🌻🐧⚡

✞ Matt Murdock hearing you sing under your breath in Josie’s (F!Reader)🌻⚡

✞ Ask response drabble: “What would Jane and Matt get each other for Christmas?” (F!Reader)🌻🐧

✞ Tuna-Tober 2024 prompt: flower crowns (F!Reader)🌻

✞ Headcanon drabble: Crying (GN!Reader)🌧️

✞ Headcanon drabble: Hands

✞ Headcanon drabble: Romance (GN!Reader)🌻

✞ Headcanon drabble: Affection (GN!Reader)🌻

✞ Headcanon drabble: Scars (F!Reader)🌻

✞ Headcanon drabble: Sex (F!Reader)🔥

✞ “Do you think Matt’s skin is more or less sensitive when he’s drunk?” (GN!Reader)🌻🔥⚡

Flufftober '21 Ficlets and Drabbles

✞ Flufftober '21 drabble: Winning A Teddy For The Other (F!reader)🌻

✞ Flufftober '21 drabble: Lazy Sunday (GN!reader)🌻⚡

✞ Flufftober '21 drabble: Pillow Fight (GN!reader)🌻

✞ Flufftober '21 drabble: Love Notes (GN!reader)🌻

✞ Flufftober '21 drabble: Sleepy Kiss (GN!reader)🌻⚡

✞ Flufftober '21 drabble: Silly Traditions (F!reader)🌻

✞ Flufftober '21 drabble: Costumes (F!reader)🌻

✞ Flufftober '21 drabble: Flirting At Work (F!reader)🌻⚡

✞ Flufftober '21 drabble: Caught In The Rain (F!reader)🌻

✞ Flufftober '21 drabble: Cuddling and Snuggling (F!reader)🌻

✞ Flufftober '21 drabble: Up Against The Wall Kiss (F!reader)🌻⚡

✞ Flufftober '21 drabble: Fall Asleep In My Lap (GN!reader)🌻⚡

✞ Flufftober '21 drabble: Holiday Traditions (F!reader)🌻🐧

For other characters and prompts, see my Flufftober '21 list!

Kinktober '21 Ficlets and Drabbles

✞ Kinktober '21 drabble: Telepathic Sex (F!reader)🔥🐧

✞ Kinktober '21 drabble: Sensory Deprivation (F!reader)🔥

✞ Kinktober '21 drabble: Temperature Play (F!reader)🔥

✞ Kinktober '21 drabble: Praise Kink (F!reader)🔥

✞ Kinktober '21 drabble: Biting (F!reader)🔥

✞ Kinktober '21 drabble: Bondage (F!reader)🔥

✞ Kinktober '21 drabble: In Public/Stealth (F!reader)🔥

✞ Kinktober '21 drabble: Edging (F!reader)🔥

✞ Kinktober '21 drabble: Masturbation (F!reader)🔥⚡

✞ Kinktober '21 drabble: Gags (F!reader)🔥

For other characters and prompts, see my Kinktober 2021 list!

Headcanons

✞ Headcanon: Four random headcanons for Matt Murdock and You🌻

✞ Headcanon: Matt is a great cook, he’s just a little unconventional about it.🌻⚡

✞ Headcanon: Does Matt Murdock like getting pegged? 🔥

✞ Headcanon: How Matt hugs you🌻

✞ Ask: “Thoughts on Dominant Reader with Matt?” AKA: Why Matt Murdock is a switch. 🔥

✞ Ask: “What kinks do you think Matt has?” AKA: answer followed by a fic-list of ten of Matt Murdock’s kinks with you. 🔥

✞ Ask: “What are some other pet names Matt might use for F!Reader?”🌻

Find more Matt Murdock on my Flufftober 2021 and Kinktober 2021/2022 lists!

#matt murdock x f!reader #daredevil x f!reader #daredevil x reader #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #daredevil #fic #fanfic #reader #reader insert #x reader

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hoseoksluna · 3 months ago

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A MILLION YEARS AGO | jhs

pairing: idol!boyfriend!hobi x f. reader

genre: smut, fluff

word count: 4.6k

summary: when your faith in your healing wavers, hobi is there to go the extra mile for you.

taglist: join | playlist: million | cp: wattpad, ao3 | discord: join

warnings: near car accident, confusion in the body, iffy feelings towards an ex, seeing an ex for the first time in million years, being mistreated, religion, praying, oc smokes, hobi is the perfect boyfriend that i wish i had, oral sex (f. receiving), raw sexual intercourse.

note: i'm crying as i'm writing this because i'm so sad, but i promise this healed me more than i expected. as you know, i write little fics whenever something happens to me—and this is based off what happened yesterday. me and my cousin sat down at our smaller family event (not the one we had on friday, if you follow me on twitter), and she asked me if i were healed. and she told me about what she saw. i think it's meant to move me somewhere forward, otherwise i would've never got to see his face. i don't know. i hope you like this little fic, you know i had to write it out like i smoke out my feelings. i'm proud of this work in terms of the way it's written. think i kinda killed that. i love you guys. and i miss you, terribly. i love you.

side note: sorry for my vulnerability. a smaller side note: this is also for my baby @hoseokkie-caeks. i promised i would write a hobi one shot after berries, and here i am. <3 i love you, baby. miss you.

The night was dark. Too, too dark.

I sensed it swathing my bones long before I glimpsed at something I should and shouldn’t have—or rather someone, to be proper.

The trees remained unmoving, despite the summer breeze drifting through the macrocosm that unfolded with each and every footfall I shared with my beloved beside me. Hand in hand, we walked leisurely through streets that were prosaic until our energy imbued them with our intimate poetry. White swallowing, little by little, the dark. There was no one and everyone around us, but we didn’t see them; we merely saw each other, for we were in love and we deserved to be so. Hoseok after his hard, agonizing work regime and unfair treatment from his management and… the whole world essentially. Me after the way I had been treated, handled, tossed aside by the person I found inside the screen of a phone—inside a world that once used to be mine, but now is nothing but foreign.

Million, million years ago.

The stars were aligned just right, stringing together a shape of the wholeness and the throb of my heart, and we sat down to eat dinner with one of my closest friends that came to town—one me and Hoseok have settled in within the precious, year-long break that burst open in his work life. Hobi didn’t want to see people, at least not those who didn’t bear familiar faces, and I didn’t want to see the city, so it was the most fateful of compromises, most perfect of the kind that was naturally threaded between us; a conjoined idea that blinked within our brains at the same time. And the laughter that followed after we voiced it out at the same time, the long kiss that spread roots inside the pillows of our lips—to this day, it is a fond memory, or perhaps something beyond that, that embraces me at night before I enter the realm of dreamland, tugging me closer into the snug heat of Hoseok’s safe place that I regard his body to be.

Though before we arrived, I gazed up at that constellation of me through the windscreen as Hoseok’s car began to make a strange noise that unnerved him. I prayed for its rightness to be true and I prayed for our safe travel, as short as it was. According to our previous plan, we were supposed to wait for my friend, Hyun-Ae, and her boyfriend, Do-hyun, outside of the restaurant because she had a strong yearning to jump into my arms upon seeing me. My excitement for that to happen ripped my eyes away from the nightly heavens, searching for her in the dimmed lights of the mutely lively building, in the shadowed greenery surrounding it, near the trees that didn’t move, yet my hair did.

Strange, that dark energy.

I hoped she was peeing somewhere, where the light doesn’t reach. She invariably had a tendency to chug everything she drank and her bladder paid for it each time—but this time, she wasn’t squatting by a bush.

She almost didn’t get to me at all.

A driver, merely minutes away from entering our town, nearly swerved wrongly into the traffic lane that Do-hyun was driving through, yanking away the stars from the canvas of the heavens. He had to pull over and take deep breaths in order to stabilize his mental state as the thought of almost getting in a car accident with her being in the passenger seat triggered his long-fought panic attack. And because the woods at the beginning of our secluded town doesn’t have any service, we waited for them for half an hour without any knowledge of their whereabouts.

I bit my cuticles until they bled. Until Do-hyun’s lungs were lifted of its heaviness with Hyun-Ae’s help, his breathing evened out, and he was able to get behind the wheel and cross the distance.

Upon hearing what obstacles stood before us, I didn’t understand it at first. Hyun-Ae’s yearning was gratified, we hugged until our necks ached and our arms quivered in our stifling, long-coming hug with her legs wrapped around me, ate the food we always ordered when we were together and not apart while she filled me in—but I didn’t perceive the darkness for what it was until that very last detail.

One she wouldn’t provide until I promised her, a million times, that I was fully healed and ready to hear it. I didn’t know what she was about to uncoil, sitting beside me as she was, with her hands in her lap. But I should’ve known that those obstacles were put in our path for my preparation.

Hyun-Ae hinted, before she began articulating her discovery, that it was about my ex-love. I stiffened a little, taken aback. I downed a shot of the spirits that we had left. And I was being tugged in two different directions, thrown to and fro, asked by the lawlessness of life to choose.

Stay back and not go further—not let her tell me because Hobi doesn’t know the specifics about my last situationship.

Ask her to hold my hand and give her the consent to proceed as my curiosity was piqued and my wound was healed, a million years ago.

And in the short dwelling of the manhandling, my spirit of inquiry crowned, my fatal flaw. I chose the latter—because why would I not? I carry my heart in my chest for my beloved beside me proudly, for his waters mine with the fulfilling streams of his laughter and sound effects, gentleness and devotion. He has grown and nurtured monsteras within its past mutilated chambers—and the longer he cradled my life and made it his own, made it his endeared responsibility, the more healing flowers of wild, undomesticated origin bloomed against the verdure. The pair of us—Hobi, the elegant leaves with its perforation symbolizing the dimples above his mouth when he smiles; I, the chamomile that has the gift to make better, but everyone mistakes it for a daisy, tossing it aside.

Everyone but Hobi, the worker who cultivated it in me.

And caught in the snare of my pride, I wanted to know if my ex-love still remained in the exile of his emotional unavailability, fucking everything that walks on his solitary Pluto planet while I made love to the Sun three times a day, minimally.

Hyun-Ae gripped my hand with her lukewarm, refreshing touch as she told me that he was dating someone, fundamentally poisoning the girl with his ways like he did to me. That she didn’t understand what I had seen in him as he looked worse than ever before, a characteristic of the unhallowed set deep within his eyes. My lungs refused to inhale any particles of air; they must’ve taken a break from their work in order to process, at their own time, the information that was given to them. The male who pretended to date me while I edged his planet for years, laboring myself in order to heal him with my prayers and words because I believed him after he said he loved me, but he needed to get right first. Needed to unload his baggage and bandage up the slashes across his heart from his previous relationship.

All sweet nothing without an ounce of genuineness. He took pleasure from the way I stayed around while he hurt me again and again by entertaining other girls, my feet indented in the soft soil of the planet. It was a form of compensation for him. A some sort of merriment—and madness, unmitigated madness for me.

I lost my mind, standing upon that edge. And I had to get off in order to find it again, my hands outstretched beyond me—held by the invisible fingers of God while he taught me how to walk again, how to walk in a gravity-filled space of greenery, the rainbows of colors, the rain and the sunlight like a baby.

And I did.

I walked until my feet stopped in front of Hobi’s.

At first, I felt a sheer wisp of happiness for the guy that he managed to make such an immense step in that direction, however it flickered in me for mere seconds, replaced by a doom of nothingness that began to swim in me. Heavy, heavy nothingness that felt cosmically peculiar—and my body urged me to go outside and smoke it away.

But my mouth spoke first.

Who is she? Show me.

Hyun-Ae narrowed her chocolate pools at me, her brows furrowing until they darkened. Then, they flicked towards Hobi beside me and I followed her gaze—he was preoccupied with a heated conversation with Do-hyun and he didn’t hear a word shared between us. Hyun-Ae lowered her voice, nonetheless.

So you could compare yourself to her? No fucking way.

But I pushed. Driven by that nothingness in me, I desired to feel something. Hurt, pride—anything that would stir my body and give it what it asked. It was used to feeling great clouds of negative emotions in terms of the male, and now it was searching for it, in spite of the million years that have flown by since. And to shut me up and distract my mind from wanting the wrong things, she showed me a picture of him.

And upon seeing that dark characteristic of his eyes, gone, hollow and dead from the laws and the ghosts of the Pluto planet, my stomach clenched and I averted my gaze. My body rejected him—I couldn’t look at him for more than two seconds.

My good, smart body.

I fell into quietness, more gravely than the one this town was weaved with. Hyun-Ae’s eyes returned to their original round size, softening on me, and I held her hand tighter. I needed, vehemently, to smoke the descending nothingness away, and when I asked her to go outside with me, Hobi reached the conclusion of his conversation. Wrapped his slender fingers around my arm, tender sound effects, only for my ear to hear, slinking inside as he rubbed his nose against the place right beside it.

You wanna go smokie smokie? Hobi asked, gliding his fingers down my arm until he reached my wrist, the belly of his index tracing the blue and violet ‘V’ shape of my veins upon my left arm.

He grounded me.

I nodded, my smile natural, my love for him abounding, and Hyun-Ae encouraged me to go, gently slapping the side of my bum. And so I went, hand in hand, with him.

Our inherent, pristine characteristic.

Hobi stole my lighter once I fished it out of my purse. He didn’t smoke, but whenever he joined me, he thought it gentlemanly and proper to light up my cigarette for me. It’s the least I can do, he had explained and I had kissed him so hard for it that he blushed.

It’s what he does now, flicking his thumb upon the spark wheel until the small flame erupts and bathes us in a delicate, orange tint. I hold the cigarette steady between my lips with my two fingers and Hobi draws closer, appeasing my inner need. Waits for me to take that first drag before he prepares me for the rush of his enormous affection by heating the small of my back with his palm, rubbing the sensitive place. It’s something that I’ve learned he likes to do; take things slow so I open for him like a bud of flower. It gives him pleasure, the laboriousness of the process and the following harvesting, the dampness of my dew the evidence of his success.

It’s extremely attractive because he does it more for my sake than for his own.

He lets me take another drag, our visual connection a string stouter than the constellation up above, and I feel myself, nonvocally, giving over that heaviness of the nothingness with each exhale. I decompress and Hobi can see it, joining his other hand to my loins and dipping his head to my neck. He scatters tiny, weightless kisses upon that tenderness of me and I am lulled by his enticement, soothed and sleep-drunk, his pheromones and the cedarwood of his fragrance unfettering me.

I want to take him to bed.

And I tell him, innocently, with my hands that clenched the muscles of his arms rounding towards his pecs and lowering to his abdomen, the ivory smoke following my movement, but never touching him. Hobi knows this is my language of sensuality and his mouth parts as he feels the words.

“We should go.”

He lifts an arm and brushes a strand of hair away from my cheek, his fingers lingering upon the shell of my ear—his private obsession. His endeared eyes study my features for a fraction of time before he leans in and peppers a singular kiss to the button of my nose. “Why are you sad, muffin?”

The trees towering behind him move in a daze at last, but it’s a blurred swaying motion that merely divulges to me that the obstacles, the preparation and the dark energy have been conquered. And it helps me to speak a little.

“Hyun-Ae told me something I didn’t really expect to hear. Can I tell you on our way home?”

Hobi nods, cradling my cheek, and I melt.

“I can leave the car here and we can walk home. And in the morning, we can go grocery shopping in the city.”

I liquefy in his hold and I finish the last of my cigarette, kissing him feverishly and reciprocating the kisses he left upon my neck, sinking our domesticity into the column of his throat while he holds me and I drip into the fullness of him.

When we return to the restaurant, Do-hyun is by himself, informing us that Hyun-ae has gone to pee. The familiarity solidifies me and I sense upon me a moonlit energy of joy that cleanses me of the past. Hyun-ae perceives it long before I open my mouth and she jumps into my arms, telling me how she’s proud of me. We say our goodbyes, promise that we’ll see each other soon, and Hobi pays for the whole table, calming every inch of me.

I pray as we watch them drive off. I pray for their safe travel into the city and I pray over our car.

We walk through our miniature, unlit version of the city, breathing in the purity of the air, listening to the rustling of the leaves being fondled by the breeze. Hobi mimics the act of love, rubbing his thumb over my hand, and I feel at ease when I tell him about my first love, chain-smoking just to help me infuse poetry into my words.

With each detail, I forget it has happened to me as I unattach myself from it, consider it an element of the past that no longer has anything to do with me. Hobi lets me speak, doesn’t interrupt me, though I notice that as I venture into the brutality of the pain I waded through, his teeth grit and his jaw clenched, the preceding flush of his cheeks withering and falling beneath his skin, pallidness blanketing it in ashen gray. And it pushes me further into my process of letting go and forgetting for another million years to come.

He stops in the middle of the road once I finish the story. Gives me a mournful look that penetrates me so deeply that I mourn, too. His hands find my forearms, my shoulders and my clavicles. Prepare me for the treasure of the most sympathetic of hugs I have ever received in my life and I loosen up in his strong hold, bury my face in his black-clothed chest as his palm holds my head to him. And he kisses my crown, kisses my temple; strengthens me when he squeezes me until I can’t breathe and I grasp that he is cleansing the pollution of the monstera leaves and the chamomile petals.

And then he begins to speak, dampening me with a fresh layer of hydration.

“You had to walk through hell in order to find me and I shall spend my lifetime bringing heaven to you. I swear on my life, muffin,” he says, for the entirety of the peripheral corn fields and the trees to hear, as he cradles my face and makes me look at him. My vision blears as I regard him more as my savior than I ever have before, nodding my head in agreement as my eyelashes flutter, the finality of calmness settling down in me like we did in this town. “You’re mine. You were mine when you were with him, which is why fate didn’t allow him near you. Mine to find, mine to take care of, mine to love, kiss and dance with. Mine. You’re gonna keep blooming in my hands and you’re no longer gonna pray for him, you’d done enough of that already. You’re only gonna pray for yourself.”

This, I disagree with, dissolving sugar personified.

“No, I’m only gonna pray for you.”

Hobi pouts, his mouth rounding downwards, and his thumbs rub my cheeks, smearing my makeup—and I don’t mind. It’s always been his to ruin. He presses his nose and forehead to mine, breathing with me as the breeze swishes past. I slip my hands beneath the hem of his T-shirt, needing to feel his skin, and Hobi sighs against me. Withdraws a tiny bit and steals the breath he gave me.

“Teach me how to pray for you.”

I’m so struck with awe, wonder and my genuine love for him that I cannot speak, my lung failing, though differently this time. They swell up with the essence of my feelings for him, my devotion and my besottedness that my eyes well up before I can halt their rivulets. No one has ever prayed for me, certainly not a male I loved and looked up to. I spent years having my empty prayers echoed back to me and now the love of my life, my eternal beloved one, asks me to teach him how to pray for me.

Only the omnipotent Listener of my prayers could make this possible for me, and before I know it—my mouth gives my beloved the instructions, the contents of my knowledge that I learned along the trajectory of my somber, otherworldly life and then he’s whispering the voice of his heart into my ear.

“Dear God, please give my muffin the strength not to be pulled back into the life she had before me. Make sure she’s not influenced by it either. Take her burdens and give them to me because I can bear them. Relieve her heart and make her happy. Use me to do it.” He withdraws and drags his thumbs across my eyelashes, asking me to open them and I do. Once he has my attention, he seeks my guidance. “What do I say now?”

I huff a soft laugh, endeared. Kiss the edge of his hand. “Say thank you and amen.”

Hobi grins and the Sun peeks through the night. “Thank you and amen.”

My laughter gains volume and he wraps his lips around it, shushing me, kissing me madly, and I bury my fingertips into his short hair, reciprocating the different, different madness and expanding it. Weightlessness seizes me and I don’t feel my limbs, stupefaction firing me with enthusiasm and then tongues clash and the kiss gains a verve that forces me to collide my body with his and—

And then we’re dancing.

To a slow song he begins to hum with the deep raspiness of his voice. Our bodies are one, singular, intertwined as we move to the rhythm of our unified heart and I weep.

I weep in my joy. I weep in my contentment—and I weep in my love for him.

He touches my back all over, cupping my hair as if it was water, leading our bodies in the dance, and there’s no one around us, no cars coming, no animals to watch us—only the trees, the fields, the buzzing of cicadas and the breeze and the moon up above. And then he’s twirling me until I’m dizzy and my soft laughter reverberates through the spaciousness of the road that is ours at this very moment. And the Sun beams at me, my Sun, as he pulls me close and continues to dance with me. I feel the jealous shafts of the light of the moon digging into my back that I soon forget about because his lips pursue mine and I dwindle away into his magnetism.

His hands, his pheromones and his cedarwood fragrance take me to his bed.

And he’s feasting on me like the dessert he didn’t get to have at the restaurant, bent over as I am over the foot of the bed, my dress bunched in his fist over my loins and my panties pushed to the side. My hungry beloved, my parched Sun, nuzzling his face in my femininity while I drip my dew and moan his name for him. Sucking my clit, he keeps me hovering on the cusp of my orgasm and I tremble in my vulnerable position—face planted on the bedding while the lower half of my body is raised in the air for him. And once my throat begins to let out whimpers and incoherent pleas, he draws back, closes his body over mine until his lips explore my ear and there, there he teases me.

“What was that, my little muffin?”

I whine, grinding my ass into his groin, and he hums. It takes me back to his song and I apperceive that it is the only thing I ever want to be pulled back to. Reminiscent of it, his song is blackened by eroticism, by his enormous arousal, drenched by my dew and I need him. While I feel God, the Listener of my prayers, to be a glaring light in me, I need my beloved Hobi to be interwoven with it.

“I want you inside me. Please, I need it,” I beg, twirling my hips against his hardness like he twirled me in the middle of the road and Hobi sucks in a breath, exhaling it in the form of a whimper and I stoop in my heady longing.

Abruptly, he plops me onto my back and yanks my panties away. “I’m gonna marry you, you know that?”

I can only whisper my overwhelming agreement, my bones and my muscles too overcome with elation to do anything else. I would marry him tomorrow if I could. Go grocery shopping with him in the morning, unload it at home, put on my white silky dress and go to church with him by midday. Spend the rest of the day celebrating our union in bed, round after round until we get so exhausted that we submit to slumber, dreaming of our wedding, reliving it.

He takes off my dress, kisses my forehead, ruffles my hair around me, his thumb dragging across the skin beneath my lower lip as if he was fixing my smeared lipstick for the special day, getting me ready, and I change my mind. I would marry him right now if I could.

And I tell him.

“I would marry you right now.”

His eyes wet, casting a glimmering light upon my naked form, and a paroxysm of his joy gushes out of him and onto me. Hobi tickles my tummy with butterfly kisses, holding me down with his strong hands that he soon pins above my head, leveling with me, my dew drying on his face—yet he still glistens. Glistens with a gleam of bliss that washes over me.

“Then, let’s get married,” he murmurs, and seizes my lips with his own, kissing me so roughly that I instinctively open my legs for him, the heated pressure in between unbearable. And then he holds my wrists in one hand while the other unbuckles his pants, fisting his length and tugging on it. My favorite sight. He guides it to my sopping hollowness and with one hard thrust, that he knows I am wholly enraptured by each time, he sheathes himself inside me all the way, completing me. Rests at the delicate touch of our mounds. “I’m gonna fuck you like you deserve and then I’m gonna take you to church.”

And he gives it to me. Doesn’t pull out fully, but pounds me into the mattress. One hand gripping my wrists together, the other my jaw—ascertaining that my attention doesn’t fluctuate but remain fixed on him, on the twists of his features, on the guttural moans, his pheromones and his fragrance that trickle out of him and dunk into me while I struggle to take it all.

“Am I hurting you?” he whispers, kissing my cheek and breathing against it, slowing down his strokes that scramble my brain. The tip of his cock grazes my cervix and I lose, I lose my identity.

My eyes flutter and he pries my mouth open with his thumb, providing me something to focus on as I intuitively suck on it, keeping my head afloat enough to answer.

“No, it’s just too big.”

Hobi hums, rewarding me with a peck on the mouth and the gradual speed of his thrusts. “You can take it, muffin. I know you can. You’ve shown me before.”

The praise, the belief in me—it all crests in lowest part of my sexuality and again, I edge around the cusp of my orgasm. Beads of perspiration line his forehead, soaking his hairline and he’s a sight to die for, the final piece to the fulfillment of my release. Blush reddens his cheeks, his irises enlarged and digging into mine. He doesn’t falter, continuing with his fast rhythm and I moan out poetry lines that make him squeeze his eyes shut.

“I’m gonna come for you.”

He groans. “Uh-huh, come for me, muffin. Give it to me. Show me again how well you can come on my cock. Yes, yes—”

Pluto bursts and ceases to exist. I come so vehemently that my spine arches off the mattress, colliding into Hobi’s chest. I shun out all constellations, all planets, the entire universe collapsing under the weight and gravity of my orgasm and our own marble, green, yellow and white with no one around but us, is called to creation with the bloom of Hobi’s own climax.

He stuffs me full, my hollowness and my mouth, kissing me so hard that I become dizzy all over again. Moans my pet name as he shoots out his ivory love for me, fucking into me sluggishly while the twitching of his cock enamors me even more. I swallow his voice, swallow his grunts and little curses. My iridescent, entranced spasms caused by his exuberance prolong until I don’t know where my head stands, where my legs are wrapped around or what body part of his my hands clench.

My savior, my beloved, linked to me for all eternity.

This must have been our wedding because I shall never be the same again, my mind and my heart swept clean and filled with brand new oxygen. I no longer remember what happened prior to our love-making and when I share that with him, Hobi is possessed with the need to do it all over again.

And he does, a million times over, until he marries me in the church of our town, with Hyun-Ae and Do-hyun present, mine and his parents and his sister with Mickey.

A wedding most perfectly extraterrestrial, on our own Hope planet, with nothing hurting, with no thoughts resurfacing.

Me and my beloved, me and my savior, me and my Sun.

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild , @jjk7k , @parkinglot-nights , @bethvar , @Sexytholland , @yoongibaybee , @crystaleah , @fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan , @euphoricmyth , @jungkoock , @cinmongirl , @hoseokkie-caeks , @kam9404 , @fr0ggieth1nk .

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reidmania · 5 months ago

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FLICKER | SPENCER REID

chapter one ;

in which spencer knows falling for a victim is wrong, but he cant help himself.

warnings ;

all chapters of this will contain strong mentions and descriptions of rape and murder, violence, eating disorders, suicides, abuse, sexual jokes and references, and all the criminal minds stuff, please be aware of this when reading.

a/n ;

around 3k words idk tbh

this is based in the earlier seasons and doesnt follow an exact plotline, its kinda all made up, if things are inaccurate i apologise, please RESPECTFULLY let me know and ill do what i can to correct it!!

NOT MY GIF!!

"Kay pretty boy, heads up" The voice came from the familiar voice, belonging to the all well known, his best friend; Derek Morgan.

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows as he turned his head, the nickname had developed between the two pretty quickly, it was simply teasing.

His hand came in contact with the book that traveled away from Derek's own, it was a basic copy of the illustrated man by Ray BradBury, one of his favourites.

"Whats this for?" Spencer asked, eyebrows still furrowed as he looked up from the book back to Derek who was now leaning against Spencers desk, hip to desk.

Derek chuckled, "Its your favourite right? I wanted to give you something you could read on the jet" Derek shrugged simply.

Spencer hummed, furrowing his eyebrows further as he let the book rest on the edge of his desk, his head shook for a moment as he tried to figure out why Derek would think he would have to re-read the book when he could literally recite it word for word.

"You do know I have an eidetic memory right?" Spencer asked, his head tilted slightly to the side as he looked up at Derek.

Derek only nodded, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't know man, you have read like every book in the world. I figured Id at least gift you a copy of something you like, why can't you just be grateful?" Derek said, his tone shifting to teasing rather quickly.

Spencer let his face relax, a simple shake of his head. "Thank you." He said simply, "We have a case?" He asked, mind replaying back to Derek's mention of the jet.

Derek nodded, and then as if on cue Hotchner and Gideon walked through the doors. The all familiar stern look covered Hotch's face as he looked over at the two boys.

"We don't have time to discuss, we need to go." He said sweet and simply.

Spencer nodded his head, pushing away from the desk. Morgan mirrored his actions. The two wasted no time getting their stuff before following the two older men out.

"Where are we going?" Morgan asked, seemingly enthusiastic. Spencer frowned slightly as he noticed they weren't walking in the direction of the jet.

"To the police station to get further details on the case" Gideon said, looking behind him at the two younger boys. Derek frowned, "The case is here?" He asked.

Spencer hummed, "Absolutely 65% of cases here that happen daily that we don't get called in on because we are out of town working on other cases" He muttered, although no one asked for the random bit of information he could stop it from spilling past his lips.

"Where's JJ and Elle?" Derek asked, obviously the two girls weren't around.

"They already left." Hotch said

Gideon nodded his head in agreement. "Do you remember the 10 murders that happened one after the other over the course of a month, about two years ago?" He asked the two boys.

"Which one?" Derek said, tone dripping confusion.

"2 women every week until the unsub killed four girls, in one day. He was the one that would target specific types of women, they all looked and acted the same, he would drug them and rape them and then kill them and leave their bodies out in the open" Spencer muttered as he and Derek got into the back seat of the car.

"I thought he was caught, and the case was closed?" Derek asked, eyebrows furrowed slightly as he looked over at Spencer, who seemed to had thought the same of him.

"So did we." Hotch said simply.

Spencer sat up a little bit straighter in his seat, pulling his hand to his hair to put a bit of hair out of his face. "Was there another murder?"

Gideon shook his head as he turned back to look at the two boys.

"She survived."

"How do we know it's the same guy?" Derek asked, as they walked into the police station, they were met with many familiar faces, officers they had worked with on many cases before.

"We don't, not for certain but her story matches all the others, and she is exactly the type." Hotch said, taking the lead as they walked up to the commanding officer.

"Aaron Hotchner, with the bau, we need a conference room and to talk to the victim." He said.

Spencer tried his best not to watch in awe at how swiftly the elder did his job, he had the introduction down pat. Hotch and the commanding officer talked for a moment before they were directed to an empty conference room, where they each placed their stuff.

"Shes going to be sensitive, this would've been traumatic and we have to be insanely careful with how far we push." Hotch said, looking between Derek and Spencer.

The two nodded as Derek dove into the case file, reading over the contents of the piles and piles of paper. "Reid, come in with me to talk to her." Hotch said, nudging his head towards the door in the other room.

"Hey guys" All four of the men turned their head to face the blonde girl who walked into the room with a tray of coffee's.

"Hey JJ, how is she?" Gideon asked, wasting no time reaching out to take one of the coffee from the tray now placed on the table. JJ shrugged, "I want to say shes okay but that seems insensitive. Elle is in there with her now, she would know more than I do." JJ said, before handing another file in Derek's direction.

"Oh my gosh, how many files are there?" Derek complained. Spencer held back from saying how it really wasn't that much — because it was — just not to him. "Shes nice, funny, don't treat her like glass I think that makes it worse" JJ warned the boys simply, handing a coffee to Derek, who took it gracefully.

When she held out one to Spencer he was quick to thank her and take the coffee off her hands, but with no plans to drink it.

"Ready Reid?"

Spencer felt like the breath had been knocked out of his chest when his eyes rested upon the girl sitting in the corner of the room.

The chair had been pulled away from the interrogation table, instead placed against the wall in the furtherest wall away from the door.

He watched as the girls eyes traveled upwards to the door as the two men entered the room. Elle turned her head after, nodding as she stood up.

"These are some of my coworkers, you can talk to them, okay?" Elle said, Spencer watched the interaction and watched as the girl nodded her head.

"Im Agent Aaron Hotcher, with the FBI." Hotch introduced himself, taking a sensitive step towards the table. Spencer stayed in place.

"Im Agent Dr Spencer Reid." He introduced, although it felt like his throat had been closed off. His eyes stayed on hers and he felt like he was drowning when she smiled softly at him.

"Im Serenity May." Her voice was sweet like honey and Spencer had to remind himself to keep it professional as he felt his head began to swarm.

that never happened before.

Hotch offered the girl a half hearted smile, of course they already knew her name. They had an idea of what she looked like, since the unsub had a specific type.

Brunette, short, pretty face, younger than he was, girls who dressed nice, who smelt of vanilla. Every one of the victims had the same use of vanilla perfume.

Although that was something that was different, the brunette girl across the room didn't smell of vanilla. She smelt of honey and caramel, the scent took over Spencers senses.

"We need to ask you a few questions but you know how much you talk about and how deep we go is completely up to you." Hotch said, Pulling a chair to sit down, he sat at the table but made no effort to try and get the girl to move out of her place in the corner of the room.

Serenity nodded her head softly, a loose strand of brunette hair falling over her face. Spencer noticed how she was quick to push the hair back behind her ear. He noticed the way her knees were pulled up to her chest, and the way her chin rested upon them. He tried not to over analyse her body language, but he couldn't help it.

"I have a question though." She spoke up, Spencer felt his chest twist all over again with every word that left her lips. He hated the way his entire body was reacting, it was inappropriate.

"Of course, you can ask anything." Spencer said softly, taking a few steps around the room to lean against the table as he crossed his arms over his chest, leaning his hip comfortably against it.

She chewed at her lip for a moment, looking at Elle. Spencer watched the two hold eye contact before the brunette turned her head again to face the two men.

"After this.. Can I go home? I really just want to go home" The words came out desperate and sad, it broke Spencers heart because they would have to tell her No.

"Unfortunately not, If you escaped, then he would be looking for you. This is where you are safe" Hotch answered.

Spencer watched as the girls smiled dampened slightly, nontheless she nodded her head in understanding. "Okay. I get it, you guys can ask your questions now."

Hotch started, simply asking you to explain what happened in as much detail as possible without it being too much for you.

Spencer listened to her speak as if his life depended on it. His eyebrows furrowed slightly when she mentioned how she had been with the unsub for two days, yet no one filed a missing person report, when he was asked about it, the answer didn't help the way his heart was tearing away from its self as she exposed every little bit of her story.

"I don't have any family around here.. And I just finished university, things get busy. The people in my life are use to be not being able to answer for a few days.." It was horrible. Truely.

"You don't have any friends around here, room mates?" Hotch asked, furrowing his eyebrows slightly.

Serenity's frown only deepened at the mention of being slightly called out, "Well — No. Not really. I live alone, I wasn't all that social in uni.." She says, eyes shifting between Spencer's and Hotch's.

"What were you studying?" Spencer asked, passing it off as a question for the case, not a question for his own curiosity, trying to figure out her interests. That always helped in these cases anyways.

"Psychology." She answered simply, eyes lingering on Spencers for a minute. "Which Im regretting now because all I can think about is how maybe there is a valid reason he did this." She muttered quietly, as if she was so ashamed of the thought.

Spencer shook his head, "There is no valid reason for what he did to you." He was quick to say it. Because morally, there wasn't, and the idea of her sitting there trying to justify sickening actions because of something that might be wrong with the guy made Spencers stomach clench.

"Maybe it's valid to him." She spoke, still maintaining the eye contact between herself and Spencer, but her voice was soft and quieter than before.

"That doesn't make it okay." He said, eyebrows furrowed in a slight look of disapproval of the perspective she was providing. The girl's lip quipped up slightly as she noticed The agents expression. "I know that. I can't stop thinking that I got lucky, which is so horrible. Ten girls before me were raped brutally and Murdered and I wasn't.. It feels selfish for me to be happy about that."

She spoke with so much doubt in herself it was almost hard to listen to, because all Spencer wanted to do was sit there and tell the girl everything she was feeling was completely valid and normal, for hours, until she believed it.

Unfortunately that was unprofessional.

Elle spoke up before either of the men could, "Oh babe. I am so sure every single one of those girls are smiling down at you, so insanely proud of what you did." Spencer couldn't have worded it any better, he watched her frown shift slightly, not disappearing but that wasn't expected of her.

"Then I guess I need to give those girls the justice they deserve.. Where were we."

#spencer criminal minds #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid #criminal minds show #criminalmindsfans #criminal minds

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accirax · 2 months ago

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Danganronpa: Despair Time Chapter 2 Episode 13 Dissection

Jesus CHRIST, the hits keep on coming (/pos). I don't think anyone could have predicted everything that came to light in this episode. But, hey, at least we're finally cooking on the murder method a bit more...?

SPOILERS for Danganronpa: Despair Time though Chapter 2 Episode 13! Also, CW: discussions of suicide.

Similarly to last time, I tried not to look at too many other people's major reactions/theories as to not influence my opinions as they were when I watched the episode. (Although I think I failed to do that more than last week...) Here's what this episode got me thinking about!

Genocide Jack, Junko, Mukuro, Peko, and Korekiyo:

On that note, though, this is... debatably relevant lore about Hope's Peak as it exists in DRDT? We know from Chapter 2 Episode 2 that Veronika (and likely all of the non-Terukos as well) don't remember Trigger Happy Havoc, and, based on this, it's likely that they don't remember much of the history of the old HPA either. Ace being so adamant that HPA wouldn't scout a murderer implies that the new HPA has fully regained its spotless reputation, potentially even more than the Tokyo school ever had.

I want you all to know that I tried to write out a little theory about whether or not Levi could have killed any plot-relevant characters here, but I came to a dead end at every venture. Levi killed Mai? No, he has no motive, and the murder happened before everyone attended Hope's Peak. Levi killed Elliot? No, Ellie was probably killed by dogs, and the timing is all wrong. Levi killed someone at the North C and Chariton incident? That didn't even happen. I was just getting that confused with my theories about what Xander might have done at that incident in FF's DRDT Milgram AU. Not even what actually happened in the AU. Just my theories on what might happen.

The only option I couldn't fully rule out was the idea that Levi killed some of the ~5 missing members of the altDRDT cast, but, holy shit, can you imagine how funny that would be? Teacher and the gang get to the sixth Class Trial and ask all dramatically, "so, what happened to the rest of our class that didn't make it to the killing game...?" and Monowhatever is just like "actually, Levi Fontana just straight up merced those dudes years ago." Hilarious.

Anyways. That goes to show that I do think these were just random guys, and the only specific relevance they would have is in the realm of Levi's backstory specifically.

RIP to the "Levi used to be an assassin" theory. I actually kinda liked that one myself.

(Also, hijacking this image to point out the background music here. You hear the ticking clock motif? Very suspicious indeed...)

Yup, even more confirmation that HPA highly valued having an incredibly pure and righteous image. Of course this HPA was also corrupt. Is it even possible to make an HPA without some level of corruption?

(Levi. My guy. I need you to use a different sprite; the quadruple image combo is starting to look ridiculous.)

What I find really interesting here is that, even in the realm of forgetting about murders, Levi remembers the three random guys before his father. Like, I know that Levi says that he kinda equally doesn't care about everyone (and I believe him to be telling the truth on that), but you would think that, just by virtue of having spent more time with his dad or the people around him's reactions, Levi would have remembered killing his father before offing three random thugs.

I don't know if this is meant to A) really drive the point home that Levi sees no difference between those he "knows" and those he doesn't; B) imply that Levi might have sustained some greater amount of trauma from killing his father that caused him to block that memory out more; C) suggest that killing the guys was more recent than killing his dad, which might lead him to remember it with more clarity; or D) some combination of the former three. However, I think it's an interesting detail to note.

The foils are foiling........

This was hilarious. And lowkey evidence that Nico was the one who tried to kill Ace.

You know, I actually almost made a theory once that the clauses "you're a murderer" and "you have no remorse" could be read as two separate secret statements! Not to say that Levi didn't have no remorse for the killing part, but that having no remorse was a state of being not solely tied to the murdering.

Alsoooo... just gonna say, Levi on Drawing Pins is looking better and better all the time...

Eden: But you're a good person. Why are you saying these things when it's clearly not true? You're so kind to everyone. You're always helping others out, even when it'd be easier not to. Like that time Ace almost died. You kept trying to help him, even if he always pushed you away. Isn't that what "a good person" does?

WE ARE BACK AT IT AGAIN!!! "GOOD PERSON" SPECIFICALLY IN THE LEVI/EDEN CONTEXT AAAAAAAAA

Beyond the further "good person" jumpscare, I found this line interesting due to how Eden describes Ace. Someone who "always pushed [Levi] away." Sounds a lot like Arei, huh? In fact, a lot of it sounds like Eden is applying it to herself.

"But I'm a good person. Why am I thinking these things when it's clearly not true? I'm so kind to everyone. I'm always helping others out, even when it'd be easier not to. Like that time Arei yelled at me. I kept trying to help her, even if she always pushed me away. Isn't that what "a good person" does?"

Obviously, I'm reading into this in the "Eden is the blackened" context, but I think that it's still an interesting read of Eden's mental state even if she isn't the blackened. We know that, to some extent, Eden blames herself for both Min and Arei's deaths. Therefore, despite likely feeling like she's fucked up, she wants to cling onto the idea that she's a good person so she doesn't lose faith in herself.

That leads into some super interesting parallels when it comes to this speech versus what Arei said, but I'll talk about that more once we get to the Arei monologue.

This week, acevi shippers take the L. Really, Levi x anyone shippers, but I think acevi shippers got the worst of it.

Except, they also took the W. "Ace lowkey confirms he once had feelings for Levi" was NOT on my bingo card. Or Star's.

(Also I LOVE this new sprite)

I saw some people talking about Ace's friend (Taylor?) but I do not remember and cannot find any information about this character (so I can't even tell if they're just fanmade :( ). If anyone knows what I'm talking about and has a link, please send it to me. Anyways, "insult to his memory" definitely makes it sound like Ace's friend is dead. I wonder if the way in which he died has anything to do with Ace's fear of horses/cowardice in general.

I want to see more Levi and Veronika interactions so bad. It's no surprise that Veronika was the first to pick up what Levi was putting down. Both of them don't have the "normal" way of processing their feelings and interacting with others, but while Levi has decided to try to be what society deems as "good" anyways, Veronika has decided to fully live by her own creed. I wonder if Levi could be at all convinced by Veronika to go back to his old ways.

Veronika: You're always guessing as to what a normal human would do in your situation. You're so awkward in social settings because you can't tell what other people want.

I'm excited to see Levi and Nico interact too, obviously. I suppose Nico is kinda like the midpoint of Veronika and Levi-- doesn't understand people and wants the world to work the way they perceive it, but also has been bullied enough to feel forced to play along with how others want them to be. Characters like these have become some of my favorite archetypes to discuss. I'm so glad that DRDT has so many of them!!!

The foils are foiling AGAIN...

Why the fuck are you so pressed about the secrets now??? I thought you were all about privacy?????

Well, thank you for "confirming" that swap, ladies! This talk of a pact is very interesting, though. I guess Hu must have gone to Veronika pretty early to ensure that her secret wouldn't get out-- makes sense, as without that there's a good chance Hu could believe that Veronika would reveal her secret at the most unflattering time to create drama.

It does slightly recontextualize Veronika's "A little mystery makes this Trial more exciting, don't you think?", though. I wonder if that was just straight up a lie, or if that was the rationale Hu used to appeal to Veronika. I doubt we'll get a flashback of this scene now that this moment's passed, but I'd love to see it. FTEs...? 👀

David you have to stop this right now or you're going to become my new favorite character. Dude's been dying to don the mantle of the comic relief character, apparently.

Is The Motive Scoreboard Accurate?

I'm including this because I've seen some other people say that it is, specifically on Teruko's front. I strongly believe that this motive board is incorrect, and Teruko and Xander's secrets are swapped.

The blaming yourself secret mentions parentS and siblingS. Back in Chapter 1 Episode 4, Teruko says that she never knew her parents (and therefore may even just be assuming that she has two), and she only had one biological brother. Furthermore, she has no idea if they're dead or not. On the parents front, she could assume that being sent to an orphanage is confirmation enough that her parents are dead instead of just not wanting her. Being sent there with her older biological brother is a further implication of that.

However, Teruko specifically says that her brother "left with some other family." She makes no mention of believing he's dead at all. Therefore, for Teruko to have the secret she claims to have, Teruko would have to be constantly mourning parents and an additional sibling that she never knew, and to believe that all of them are dead despite having no reason to believe that her known brother died.

Obviously, all of these things were said aloud to Charles and Whit, so there is a possibility that Teruko lied about or concealed parts of her past to keep her walls up around those two. However, what does this face from David mean if not "I've caught you in my trap?"

(DRDT sprites are SO GOOD--)

To me, this sprite clearly indicates that David knows that Teruko is lying about something, but has chosen not to bring it up to save it for later purposes. I don't know if he has something specific in mind or just wants to hold the potential blackmail over her head, but I strongly suspect that we'll come back to this someday-- either in later daily life or a post-Trial scene in this chapter.

It's also interesting to note that, while David knows that this is Teruko's for sure, Charles and Whit also have the opportunity to recognize the discrepancy. I definitely wouldn't be surprised if Charles kept notes about what he knows about everyone somewhere. We'll have to see if either of them ask her about it down the road as well.

Eden: I know that she's dead!! I know that she's dead and that she's never coming back. I know that I'll never be able to talk to her ever again. But even then... I have to know that when she was alive, she was still trying to become a good person. That if she lived, then maybe there'd be a world in which we would both be friends. If you really say that you lied about making Arei kill herself, then tell me the truth. Tell me that you didn't make her lose hope. Please! Tell me what happened last night between you and Arei!

Oh boy.

Can Eden Still Be the Culprit?

Look. I understand if you look at this and believe that Eden couldn't possibly be the culprit-- or at least, not without being a completely different character than we know her to be. Because I almost did. Zel's performance did a really good job of selling Eden's heartbreak in a way that makes it feel like she couldn't have possibly been the one to end Arei's life. However, upon further review, I do think that Eden's words could be that of the killer, with minimal levels of intentional manipulation thrown in.

If it would cause you emotional distress to listen to me continue to accuse Eden, I'll write the rest of this section in purple so that you can skip it if you'd like. I don't want to make anyone sad, so I fully understand if you want to avoid these bad vibes. However, for those of you who are still on the fence, and those who have stuck with Eden!culprit all along, here's my justification. I think it'll be easiest to break it down block by block.

Eden: I know that she's dead!!

Okay, well, maybe skipping this section a bit. More points for Arei truly being the one who's dead, I guess?

Eden: I know that she's dead and that she's never coming back. I know that I'll never be able to talk to her ever again.

Alright, so, this can fairly easily be read as the same thing as what Eden was doing back when she was talking to Levi: reassuring herself.

Well, maybe "reassuring" is the wrong word. Basically, she's repeating the same mantra that she told herself when she was trying to justify her decision to kill Arei. When making the decision to kill anyone, the killer (if they care) has to process that they will have to kill every other person in the game if they want to escape for themselves. Therefore, if Eden is the killer, she already had to grapple with the fact that she can't turn back time. ("You can't go back, no matter how hard you try.")

I think that Eden might have it in her head that, even if it wouldn't fully erase her wrongdoings, as long as she doesn't just forgive and forget the whole affair, it makes things slightly better. That's why she was yelling things like "You forgot about all the things you did just because you didn't face any consequences for them? That's incredibly selfish!" at Levi.

Feeling bad about things is her punishment to make sure that Arei is never fully forgotten. She knows that, if she goes through with killing, she'll never be able to talk with any of these people again. However, if there's something more important to her than these 13 lives that she has to escape the killing game to reach, it's a consequence she'll have to accept. She knows it's selfish-- but she at least won't be so selfish as to also forget everyone else's sacrifice.

Eden: But even then... I have to know that when she was alive, she was still trying to become a good person. That if she lived, then maybe there'd be a world in which we would both be friends.

This is probably the part that feels the most damning. Why would Eden care about whether or not Arei was trying to become a good person if Eden is the one who killed her? Wouldn't it be better for Eden if she wasn't?

Well, that's what Eden is trying to figure out, too. In Venus' Narrative Defense of Eden Culprit Theory, Venus says that Eden didn't believe that Arei actually changed and wanted to be her friend. And, it really makes complete sense if she didn't-- Eden had no idea that David and Teruko continued to talk so seriously with Arei after her departure, and Arei saving Eden from Arturo literally happened the same day that Arei had her breakdown. It had probably been, like, 4 hours since Arei chewed her out for her worldview being stupid, and then Arei's suddenly turning around and declaring that she wants to protect Eden at all costs. Of course Eden might just believe that Arei was setting her up for a fall! (Murder pun not intended.)

Venus also adds that, at this point in the Trial, David knew something that Eden didn't: namely, that Arei actually wanted to change, and saw Eden as her inspiration for doing so. Under the assumption that that revelation has been bothering Eden the whole time, it makes perfect sense that Eden would want to know more about what David knew about Arei. She needs to know exactly how terrible she needs to feel for doing this terrible thing.

I think the quote becomes a lot less defendable if you just swap out the "that" for an "if."

"But even then... I have to know if when she was alive, she was still trying to become a good person. That if she lived, then maybe there'd be a world in which we would both be friends."

Now, obviously, you could say that this is an unfair point-- Eden didn't say "if," she said, "that"! How can you excuse Eden based off of evidence that isn't actually real?

My point is that, even if DRDTdev didn't have Eden phrase it that way, it would be an incredibly easy swap to make. Thus, the only way in which Eden would have to be lying is to swap out one word. With that one word, "if," we see how she's still doubting whether Arei really was trying to be a good person, and can read into why she's bringing that up at this time. To disguise it, all Eden has to do is trade "if" for "that"-- she doesn't have to be some masterful lying manipulator to pull off a quick exchange that makes her look more innocent.

Eden: If you really say that you lied about making Arei kill herself, then tell me the truth. Tell me that you didn't make her lose hope.

Eden needs the truth so that she can know how despicable she actually is (in her opinion). She needs to know how bad she needs to feel for taking Arei's life, so that she won't wind up as "inhuman" as Levi.

I also think that "tell me that you didn't make Arei lose hope" could be interpreted in a killer-ish way. There is a rhetorical device in English that sorta turns words like that on their head. Like, if I said, "don't tell me you spoiled DRDT for all of your followers!," it's often interpreted as "I know that you did spoil DRDT for all of your followers, but I don't want to hear it." In this case, Eden might not want David to tell her that he made Arei lose hope because she doesn't want to believe that Arei had any hope in the first place. It's better than if Eden was the one to directly crush those hopes, sure, but if Arei approached David talking about wanting to be a better person mere hours before her death, that still means that Eden was killing a hopeful Arei. She doesn't want David to confirm her worst fears.

I don't know if I phrased that section exactly how I imagined it in my mind, but hopefully you understand what I'm getting at.

Eden: Please! Tell me what happened last night between you and Arei!

In the end, though, Eden knows that she has to face the music to figure out how she wants to proceed with this trial, whether that's sinking the cost of her fallacy or owning up to her crime. And that's how I think you can justify this outburst of Eden's within the context of her being the blackened, without having to fully corrupt her character.

What Arei Meant

This part isn't a theory, exactly; it's more of an analysis of the point I think Arei was trying to convey in this section. I've seen some people be sad about the new note that Arei's character is "going out" on, but I actually think that this is a pretty realistic, thematic ending for where Arei's story and the themes of the chapter are headed. Time to praise DRDTdev's writing for a bit!

Arei: I'm a manipulative, two-faced bitch. I pretend to be cute so that I can treat others like trash. I only care about myself, and I always hurt others for selfish and stupid reasons. Of course I wanted to change myself. [...] Still, for the longest time, I thought it was stupid to even try. I'm rotten to the core, and I might as well be a different species from saints like you and Eden. [...] No matter what, I'll never be a good person. And yet, despite all that... David, you... It turns out that you might be a total piece of shit after all. If even a perfect inspirational speaker like you turns out to be an asshole, then there's no such thing as "a good person." [...] And that makes me relieved, because it means I'm not too far gone. It's okay that I'll never be a good person, because no one else can be either.

I don't think that Arei is saying that the world is a lost cause.

Instead, she's saying that no one is a lost cause. She's applying that Syndrome logic: "if everyone is a bad person, no one will be." Arei thought that, because of her upbringing, there was no possibility that she could ever Be Good, because she'd already done too much wrong. Good People are perfect, unerring gods who do nothing but help others and reach out to wayward souls. However, David's manipulations proved that that wasn't true.

Good People fuck up. Good People do good things for bad reasons, and bad things for good reasons, and, hell, if David is a Good Person, then Good People do bad things for bad reasons sometimes, too! Arei confessed to us that she felt like her life was over because she was given an unfair start. However, now she knows that the bar has been lowered, and that being a good person can be done by anyone, anywhere, at any time. Perfection doesn't exist. Now that she knows that there was never any need to be perfect, the chance she sought for so long has finally been granted.

(Dipping back into purple for a sec to talk about Eden culprit stuff)

After this, I feel like the theme of this chapter has to be about deconstructing the myth of "The Good Person." You think that Nico is just a soft and shy bullying victim? No, they're just as willing to kill as anyone else. You think that Hu is a gracious motherly figure? No, she has an angry streak and talks over other people. You think that Levi is a softhearted giant who just struggles with what to say sometimes? His kill count is higher than everyone who's died to the killing game so far, and he doesn't really care that that's the case. You think that Whit is just a silly guy who cares about others? Fuck, even he's willing to stall out the trial in an attempt to fulfill his own agenda.

The main person who hasn't yet been proven so be not as good as they seem so far is Eden, who in this episode has been clinging to the idea of being a good person harder than ever. I know that some people believe that Eden needs to survive to fulfill the role of the optimist, but I feel like this episode proves that that isn't true. We don't need A Hopeful Person because anyone can step up to the plate and believe in hope if they want to do so. Eden isn't A Good Person, but a real person, who's just as capable of laughing and crying and living and dying as anyone else.

A good person is not gold. That's why everyone who tried to cling to the idea that they were being A Good Person-- Xander, David, Levi-- has always wound up hurting others in the end. Xander believed his actions were morally justified, and thus decided to kill Teruko, causing Min's death and lots of anguish for Teruko. David wanted to follow in his footsteps, and beyond his inspirational speaker persona causing damage to himself, he was also about to kill everyone else to do "what's right." Levi (Arei pending) hasn't killed anyone since trying to become A Good Person, but pretending to follow those guidelines without actually wanting to change anything about himself emotionally hurt Ace, who was set up with false expectations.

If Eden is so convinced that she's a good person, she's only blinding herself to the ways that she's inevitably not.

Back to Arei, while it is sad that her development was cut off just as she made this revelation, I believe that clarifying this additional bit of content is a way to allow her to rest in peace. Even if she didn't get to transform as much as she wanted to, she at least got to die knowing that she wasn't as wretched as she convinced herself that she was all these years, and having done at least one good thing-- saving Eden from Arturo-- before she passed. It's an amazing character arc to squeeze in for your second victim.

Phew, finally, a chance to talk about objective lore instead of heavy and divisive character themes! Except, uh...

WHAT THE FUCK???

Remember when, at the beginning, I said that no one could have predicted everything that came to light in this episode? This was the main point I was talking about. I don't think anyone saw this reveal coming, especially in this moment.

For starters, even though this CG does appear in David's memories, I don't think that he or Arei actually remembers whatever this was taking place. Beyond me attempting to debunk the idea that David had additional memories of Hope's Peak last week, Arei or David specifically referring to this moment means that they had to... be there? When whatever this was happened?

I say "whatever this was" to briefly create suspense before connecting the dots everyone's already talked about: that Eden was probably the one to scratch out Xander's eye. This would make Eden the "she" that Xander (er, I mean, "the guy with the bloody hands") talks about in the intro scene.

It also gives some more context to the clock with the fork stabbed into it depicted in LGI.

I don't know if "non-functional" and "I didn't expect her to" mean that Eden could have been brainwashed or otherwise broken down into not acting like herself when this happened, but it certainly seems out of character for what we know of Eden. Even her facial expression seems to suggest that she might not have wanted or intended to attack anyone with that fork.

Anyways, for Arei or David to know about the contents of that CG, they would've had to both be there when Eden attacked Xander and then also have regained/had their memories of it, which seems unlikely given how both of them treat Eden. Like, even if Arei is sure that Eden "did something to hurt someone in the past," this seems a bit extreme, and David probably wouldn't be so neutral on her if he knew that she attacked his man.

Another really clever point that I saw someone make (AND THEN COULDN'T TRACK DOWN WHO OR IN WHICH POST IT WAS--) was that Eden is wearing her current outfit in this CG. Interestingly, I looked back at A History of Hope's Peak and Visiting Graves to see what Min and Xander were wearing, and while Min was wearing her typical killing game uniform, Xander was wearing something different. Given that Min's scene takes place in HPA and Xander's doesn't, this could imply that Min was wearing the HPA uniform? That's fitting, for her.

We also know that the DRDT cast were all wearing these outfits believing that they were headed for the HPA entrance ceremony. Therefore, we know that Eden would wear this getup to school, but we don't know if she'd wear it elsewhere. Once again, assuming it was Xander who got forked, we can place this CG some time between Visiting Graves and the start of the killing game. I have a hunch that Visiting Graves might have taken place during HPA's spring break-- in A History, Min and Mai (er, I mean, "Unnamed Student") are at school studying for a test with "Spring Break next week" on the chalkboard, while in Visiting Graves, Mai and Xander have traveled elsewhere-- but that's not confirmed, so we can't lock it down.

Maybe we can get more information about this in Eden's bonus episode! Because, well, I at least do think that most of the mysteries of this CG could be solved within a bonus episode and/or other characters talking about her posthumously in later chapters. Again, I understand if you want to use this CG as evidence that Eden is important enough to need to stick around, though.

AREI I MISS YOUUUUUUUUUU

Also, I didn't catch this at all, but credit to everyone who noticed how similar this scene is to the "Diana Chiem" scene in LGI! Fascinating implications that I have no additional thoughts on at the moment. Mostly because we don't know shit about Diana, if that even is her who's portrayed in that CG. I'm sure I'll come back to this someday, just not right now.

Oh, and I don't think you can really argue that Ace made up this conversation anymore. Idk how much of it he stuck around to listen to, though.

See like why is she so pressed about it???

I'd like to say that this is a win for Whit not being the mastermind (because he doesn't seem to know what MonoTV is talking about), but he could probably just be going "why are you saying that at this time?" or something like that. Sigh (/j)

Why Does Whit Know So Much About Hanging?

Alright, so, obviously, this could be a super-suspect hint that Whit knows all of this stuff about hanging and therefore decided to use that knowledge to kill Arei. But, I don't care about that! What I don't understand is how Whit came to know all of this in the first place!

Well, after a quick review, there's one option that stands out more than all the others: Whit's mom was killed by hanging, likely self-inflicted. The only thing we "know" about Whit's mom dying (assuming that secret really is his) is that she is dead, and Whit omits it. It's phrased pretty vaguely. We also know that Whit thinks his mom is awesome, but that doesn't tell us anything about how she saw herself. Sadly, I think this lines up all too well.

Whit's main character flaw, as we've seen throughout the story so far, is ignoring things that stress him out or make him sad. He represses, and chooses not to get involved in others' fights because it's "not his business." It would make sense if the same extended to what he was like before the killing game. If Whit always chooses to ignore things that worry him, there's a possibility he blames himself for his mom's death via not paying enough attention to any warning signs that her mental state might have gotten so dire. Of course, if repression runs in the family, she might have been doing her best to not make it obvious as well.

So, even though he hates himself for not giving his mom enough support in her darkest hour, he still can't (yet) make any changes in his life because ignorance is the only way he knows how to cope. Yet, he still won't let himself pass up on helping another soul in clear need of support, like Charles panicking over the blood, or Eden suffering over seeing Arei's body. He can push himself to help others that are sad, as long as he never focuses on himself.

Or, he's the time loop mastermind who's heard Class Trials discuss hanging a billion times before. You never know with this guy.

CONGRATS TO FF AND BADJOE FOR BEING THE SMARTEST PEOPLE IN THE WORLD!!! 🎉🎉🎉🎉 Man, even seeing Teruko explain this mechanism as the truth, I still don't know if I would've been able to come up with it myself. This fandom is so smart :D

(Also, why was Whit a dog? Goddammit, is this more MonoTV coding?! /lh)

FUCK YES, WE'RE ACTUALLY GOING TO GET ANSWERS ABOUT THE GYM MURDER IN THIS TRIAL? HALLELUJAH! IT'S ABOUT TO BE T A P E T I M E, MOTHERFUCKERS! (/j)

Phew, barely squeaked it within 30 images! I'm impressed and amazed that DRDTdev keeps managing to make such gripping episodes week after week.

Get it? Gripping? Like grippy tape?

I'd apologize, but you're almost certainly going to hear more of that from me next week. Until then!

#danganronpa despair time #drdt #drdt spoilers #drdt chapter 2 part 2 spoilers #fanganronpa #cw suicide mention #levi fontana #ace markey #eden tobisa #whit young #teruko tawaki #arei nageishi #btw i hope i didn't come off as at all rude or condescending to people who don't believe in eden culprit #especially bc i was the one who was saying that no one should use the trial results to be mean to each other #my goal was only to celebrate some of my friends for having their theories turn out to be true #but i do truly feel for anyone whose expectations aren't lining up with reality. i'm sure that must be hard after the long wait #(and also to be clear i'm not discounting that i'll be proven wrong not long from now i just don't think it's happened yet)#(or maybe i'm just still delusional)#my theories

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beneathsilverstars · 3 months ago

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been doing research on writing plural systems for sif+loop in mundane modern aus, and i think i've got a solid idea of what i want to do! specifics may vary by au but i wanted a base set of headcanons to vary from, so sif+loop being a system can be a background fact of my au musings instead of something i have to reinvent every time.

(i'm a singlet so if any systems have concrit or thoughts they want to share i'd be happy to hear it! i'm not like planning a fic or anything currently, but it's still nice to not be working off of misconceptions for my silly little posts.)

siffrin took over as the main host in their late teens and doesn't remember anything from before that. in their early-mid 20s their work/housing situation was horrible and when they couldn't take another day like that, siffrin split into loop (who kept the mid 20s memories, with a new personality) and siffrin take two (who remembers the 17-20 era a bit better, but then there's a big gap). between the two of them they were able to cope better and hold a not-as-awful job and get a shitty apartment all to themselves!

siffrin fronts more often on average, because they're better at quietly accomplishing day-to-day tasks. but if he gets too overwhelmed or anxious (think their mini loop-backs in canon) then loop takes over, bc loop dgaf about some of the things siffrin worries about, and doesn't shut down as easily. but since they don't bottle up their feelings as severely, they're more likely to react outwardly and make rash choices like quitting their job, being rude, splurging on little treats, etc. so that's why siffrin is the default fronter for things like work and chores, when he's feeling up to it.

loop is fairly aware of what's going on while siffrin is fronting - sometimes they choose to tune more of it out, but they can catch most of it if they want to, and sometimes siffrin will talk to them or nudge them to pay attention. since they know at least the basics of what siffrin was up to, they can usually step in pretty smoothly when they need to take over! and it's very easy for them to take over, with or without siffrin's say-so, though they try to ask if it's not an emergency (and if it is an emergency, siffrin is likely trying to back away from the front anyway).

when loop is fronting, though, siffrin is entirely away, dreaming in the void. loop can nudge them for a vague opinion or relevant memory, but they can't hold a full conversation and they're not aware of what loop's doing. when loop puts them in the front again they're usually disoriented and need a moment for loop to tell them what's been happening. and again, loop is the one deciding to switch; sometimes siffrin might resist getting pulled back if they're still feeling bad, or get antsy and start reaching out if they've been asleep a while or are having bad dreams, but they're not gonna react to environmental situations since they're not aware of them.

mal is in there too but doesn't front. its role is to be socially hyper-vigilant, pointing out when other people might be upset at them so the alter who's fronting knows to fix it or avoid the person. it's been around longer than siffrin, and was helpful way back then, but now that siffrin and loop have worked out an effective balance and are fairly safe, mal's behavior is somewhat maladaptive (ha!). it's not super directly aware of the outside world like loop is, not anymore at least, but it does get secondhand memories from both siffrin and loop. it actually sometimes remembers facts and details that sif and loop both quickly forgot, because maybe those details will end up relevant to spotting and avoiding future problems - but since it got the memories secondhand and filtered them through a particularly paranoid worldview, it's likely to misremember subjective interpretations as literal truth, so you gotta take its claims with a grain of salt.

it mostly hangs out in the void imagining fractals and whatnot these days, keeping an eye on siffrin while they sleep. it occasionally perks up and chimes in with its pessimistic point of view when siffrin is really upset - it can communicate better with sleeping siffrin than loop can. loop is not on speaking terms with it because they're mad that it goes behind loop's back and makes siffrin more upset right when loop is trying to shield him from the upsetting situation. but siffrin doesn't mind it bc it's just trying to help in its own way, and sometimes it is helpful to face their fears in plain words instead of avoiding them. and siffrin will sometimes ask it for help with like, puzzles, because it's good at pattern recognition.

there's also a no-longer-quite-dormant alter that presumably fronted for much of the body's childhood. they don't hang out in siffrin and mal's void, and they don't talk to anyone else within the system. but now that the system is more safe and stable, every once in a while something will catch their attention and they'll gently push to the front and start talking. as soon as their train of thought is interrupted they're gone again, and the other alters don't even remember that they got usurped for a moment, a la siffrin's bits of telling childhood anecdotes in canon. loop and siffrin have surmised that they exist, and call them the lost one.

mal has also implied that there's at least one more dormant alter, but it's from before siffrin-and-loop's time and possibly mal's as well.

if something happens that's so distressing that siffrin retreats into headspace and loop won't take over either, the body goes into dissociated autopilot. it will follow basic one-step instructions (such as "follow me" or "eat this"), speak in a couple simple scripts (such as answering "how are you" with "i'm fine"), and complete rote tasks such as taking a familiar route home from work or going to bed. loop doesn't pay much attention because that would defeat the point / put them back in front, so they usually have very little if any idea of what happened in this state, but it is possible for outside events to catch their attention enough for them to try fronting again. otherwise they'll be back next time the body wakes up. siffrin, on the other hand, usually won't front for at least a day or two after this happens, and will likely have forgotten the events leading up to it as well.

it doesn't happen very often since it's the very last resort, after siffrin dissociating, loop taking over, and loop dissociating. loop and siffrin don't consider the autopilot an alter because it doesn't form memories, have emotions or opinions, or interact in the headspace; it just follows where it's led, by habit or outside influence. loop has argued in favor of trying to imbue it with more personhood so it's less uncanny for other people to interact with and can get loop's attention when the distressing thing is over, but siffrin argues that if it can think that defeats the point, and they'd just end up with this new alter and a new autopilot.

past all that, the specifics will depend on the exact au; particularly the ratio of loop time to siffrin time will depend on how much siffrin works and how awful their job is, whether siffrin and/or loop have friends yet, etc. but i think when they're doing pretty well they'd be happy with siffrin doing work/chores and most of the activities that they both enjoy (since then they'll both remember it), and loop fronting for maybe a third of their free time to do their own thing, and maybe here and there if something goes wrong at work. and then if siffrin starts feeling burnt out, they swap for a couple days of loop doing most things and siffrin just coming out for an hour or two. siffrin and mal probably talk maybe a couple times a month, unless siffrin is really going through it, in which case they might talk a lot for a couple days. it also might be possible for mal to eventually adapt a little more to being safe, and start providing a wider range of possible interpretations instead of just the worst case scenario.

ok that's all! and as i said, i'm totally open to feedback. :3

#wow it's so easy to lock in on draft posts bc tumblr doesn't show me notes while i'm in my draft #i haven't checked my dash/notifs since i first caught up for the morning four hours ago...#anyway yay now i can really start building my coffee shop au!#isat #siffrin #loop #isat spoilers #thoughts #thoughts about siffrin #thoughts about loop #thoughts about siffrin & loop #café chick #thoughts about siffrin et al

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bunchofdoodlesinspace · 2 months ago

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Stan and Ford Hcs because I Have More Things To Say

[also post-show, just for reference]

The Stan o' War has had some Serious upgrades done to it to suit their expedition needs. Most of these are courtesy of not just Ford, but also Fiddleford, who agreed to help him and Stan with some bits of the machinery. It's built to handle basically anything and everything they might encounter now.

Where Stan couldn't help with boat-construction, he helped with resources. Having lived on his own on such a low budget for so long, the man has had TONS of experience sorting out essentials, portioning out food, and so forth. Oh, and he also dumped most of his guns into it somewhere. Y'know, just in case.

(I say most because he absolutely left at least one of the guns with Soos with some cryptic messaging about the "Pug Mafia" or something. Definitely had absolutely nothing to do with him being concerned for Soos's safety, not at all, shut the fuck up-)

They decided to completely and properly dismantle and renovate the portal room for other uses. I can't decide if it's still a sort of secret lab type place, or if its been changed to be a storage room for some of the Mystery Shack's weirder and more precious items. Regardless, it's significantly smaller now. You would never be able to guess what it was housing prior.

The two of them also took a day to burn/destroy all of Ford's Bill-related items together. It was extremely cathartic and became a fantastic and much needed bonding moment for the two of them.

[Shuffles a deck of post-it notes with various labels written on them] [Slaps the Autistic one on Ford] [Slaps the ADHD one on Stan] yeah. I'll feel like this one's a given.

They frequently do things at exactly the same time (like adjust their glasses, stretch, sometimes they'll even say the exact same thing too) without thinking. It's a twin thing they've done since they were little.

Unfortunately, the memory gun has had lasting effects on Stan's mind. He recovers the memory of the summer immediately, and everything post-portal fight comes to him pretty quickly as well (I'd say over the course of a few days to a week). But many events prior to that remain unclear. Recounting the details of whatever happened and/or showing him pictures will usually bring at least most of it back, if not at least a strong sense of familiarity. Ford can't help but feel a pit in his stomach every time Stan can't remember something. And he feels it grow every time Stan still can't remember it even after Ford explains it to him.

Much like their great-niece and nephew, Stan and Ford help each other through their flashbacks, their panic attacks, and their nightmares, the last of which Ford undoubtedly has the worst of. If you thought my description of Dipper's sleep paralysis was bad, imagine lucid dreaming your body dragging you around to who-knows-where, unable to will it to change course, while a disembodied voice cackles at your futile resistance. And then not knowing if that was a dream or not when you wake up.

While Ford appears to be the more "put-together" twin, Stan is the one who is much better at things like cooking and keeping places tidy. Ford spent so much of his adult life either living in a dorm or a secret lab, and that on top of the way he hyperfocuses on research, regularly forgetting to eat and sleep- Yeah. Stan is usually the one dragging him away to eat something before he collapses.

(Stan is genuinely a good cook, btw. He took a lot of time learning how to do it better over the course of the summer with Dipper and Mabel)

Much like Mabel, Stan will frequently start making stupid jokes to try and bring Ford out of depressive funks. He's never been great with words, that was always Ford's thing, but he's always been good at making people laugh. Or, at the very least, making his brother laugh.

And much like Dipper, Ford combats Stan's low self-esteem with logical reasoning based on what he's seen since he was rescued. In fact, he nowadays often brings up the fact that Stan rescued him as a means to combat it. He wasn't grateful in the moment, for a lot of reasons, and ofc he still thinks it was extremely dangerous and reckless to reactivate it given the risks, but he understands Stan's position better now. He's glad he was able to return. And he's even more glad his brother still wanted him to.

They always try to plan to give themselves time to make the trip back to Gravity Falls right around the start of summer. Often, they're a few days late to the party, but they're determined to never miss the chance to spend time with the kids.

#gravity falls #gravity falls stanford #gravity falls stanley #stanley pines #standford pines #gravity falls headcanons #gravity falls spoilers #cupcake rambles #I'm being enabled by my friends (they really liked my first set of hcs so I made more)#genuinely might just keep making lists for as many characters as I have thoughts for

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hollowtones · 1 year ago

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first yiik impressions?

Hi. Thanks for your message. I've been thinking about this for days. I wrote paragraphs. Here you go!

Everyone talks up how the game is bad, but I've never looked into it much myself, so I went in with an expectation along the lines of "people whose opinions I often agree with think it was an awful mess, I'll likely think something similar". Expectations were low. Even then I wasn't really ready.

"YIIK" is a game of tedium. I don't think it's a game about tedium, that's something different (though it could be, if it was a different video game altogether; "what if the world was made of pudding" etc). To some degree I think the tedium is by design but I'm not really sure what it's in service of.

I don't think tedium in a video game is a bad thing. "Morrowind" and "Breath of the Wild" are two video games I like very much, and some of my favourite memories of those games are of slowly wandering through empty expanses, or having to suddenly deal with equipment degrading or supplies dwindling because I forgot to prepare. Moments like that feel thoughtful! They're interesting moments of reprieve or of tension that feel thoughtfully and intentionally designed! "YIIK" feels like trudging through chest-deep molasses so it can shout "hey did you know you're stuck in my molasses right now? that's weird, why are you stuck in my molasses right now? did you notice?" directly into your ear.

You'll notice this is a pattern.

Combat is turn-based and involves completing little minigames, timing button prompts or hitting targets or some such. It's a cute idea that wears out its welcome when you start realizing how long every single one takes to resolve, especially when you have multiple party members, and sometimes multiple enemies (I'm told this part specifically gets more egregious as the game goes on). I don't think it's awful or unsalvageable but I'm not super into it as of the point we're at.

This is a pattern.

Leveling up is a manual process that you have to unlock, and it involves going to a save point (any save point? we didn't check), to enter the Mind Dungeon, to enter the actual Mind Dungeon, to walk down a set of stairs and enter individual doors one-by-one, so that you can choose how you want to allocate stat increases, so that you can walk down a different set of stairs to commit your choices and spend your banked experience to level up. I think "you can only power up at specific points / times / locations" and the granularity of stat growth are interesting ideas, and the environment they made for it are a charming idea, and I don't think it needed to be a "Hotel Mario" level that you had to slowly walk through. It could have been a menu. They could have used the resources for a nice background or backdrop for a menu that accomplishes the same thing.

This is a pattern.

I haven't really mentioned anything about the story or writing yet. The protagonist's name is Alex and he's a very self-important nerdy misanthropic dickhead white man (a very specific kind of guy that I've definitely met at least once or twice) who is obsessed with a paranormal message board populated by people like him and desperate to find out more about the disappearance of a woman he witnessed. (The woman & her disappearance are based on the real life death of Elisa Lam & aren't handled with a whole lot of tact, IMO, but other people have put this into better words than I can right now. It sucks. It keeps coming up and it makes me bristle every time.) Alex is a bad person. I know he is. You know he is. The game knows he is. I've seen some reviews say a negative point of the game is "the main characters aren't likeable", which I don't really get, because that's the point of the characters, as far as I can tell. The issue, then, is how much time the game takes to exposit at you how bad the characters are. It's exhausting. Every time Alex has a monologue, it feels like it sums up to 10 minutes of "I am a bad person. I am a bad person. Alex is a bad person. This character is a bad person. Do you get it? He's a bad person. Alex is a bad person. Do you understand yet, player? Alex is a bad person. You should know that he's a bad person. Do you get it?"

This is a pattern.

(I don't know how interested I am in bringing up the game's lead writer right now, if at all, but there's a well-known anecdote where he talks about wanting to write a story about a bad person who is forced to grapple with himself and do better, and how the reason why his game wasn't well-received was because people who play video games didn't get it & weren't ready for a story like that. I dunno. I can understand being upset about negative reception to something you poured time and sweat into, and saying something hasty because of it. "Final Fantasy 4" is a beloved RPG classic, though, and "Disco Elysium" came out the same year to overwhelming praise. I haven't played either of these yet, though, so I'll admit maybe I'm off the mark here.)

The characters we've met so far (i.e. the ones that aren't unnamed NPCs) are… well. There's a smarmy younger kid who idolizes(?) Alex & also made the aforementioned paranormal website. So far it seems like he mostly exists to go "hey fuck you Alex, you dickhead" and immediately say something even more insensitive. There's the insensitive based-on-a-real=ass-dead-woman elevator woman, who immediately disappeared from the narrative while still being an essential part of the narrative. There was a dead(?) robot in a bedroom, who had a choir of ominous hooded people monologue about how weird and sad and strange and uncanny the scene is. What the!? There's a woman who works at the arcade and has Powers. Her design's cute. (I feel like, generally, the game's visuals are Fine. The audio, too. That all ranges from Just Fine to Surprisingly Neat. I don't really have much issue with those aspects of the game, but I don't have much to say about them either.) Alex and Kid Whose Name I Didn't Care To Remember are constantly very uncomfortable to her, because she's a woman and because she isn't white, in the 15 or so minutes we've seen her on-screen, and she gets to tell them off, but then immediately kind of goes "well whatever I can smile and put up with this and hang out with you". It feels misogynistic. I know to some degree Alex is misogynistic on purpose, because the game is bludgeoning your skull in and yelling "ALEX IS SHITTY TO WOMEN! AND PEOPLE OF COLOUR! DO YOU GET IT? HE'S SELF ABSORBED IN A SHITTY WAY! DO YOU GET IT, PLAYER? YOU UNDERSTAND THAT ALEX SUCKS ASS YET? MAYBE 10 MORE MINUTES OF THIS WILL MAKE IT CLICK?" But for a woman of colour (the only one we've seen so far who isn't Probably Just Dead) to finally tell him off for being a shithead, only to turn around and go "well it's ok, you're cool now, let's hang out now because it's narratively convenient and you're the protagonist" is pretty damn egregious!

This is a pattern.

Writing in general feels stilted and long-winded. Most of the main characters feel like they don't talk like people do. Alex gets to feel like a person but that's mostly because he gets to talk to himself so damn much. Most of his monologues feel like overly flowery prose, like someone padded it out with identical adjectives to meet a school essay word count. There's an interesting idea or premise or setpiece every now and then. There's a spark. A glint of something compelling. Every single time this has happened so far I find it immediately snuffed out by an over-blown "oh my god!!!!!!! how weird!!!!!!', or a very long plot dump, or a Joss Whedon-ass quip. There can be no small moment of joy. No story element or visual element can stand on its own legs. There can be no room for ideas to breathe. No space for the player to wonder, to dream, to play in the space. The narrative is compelled to suffocate iself on itself, to take up all space, to swallow itself whole in its making. One very minor (so far?) side character has some interesting dialogue in this one dream world, and I think "oh that's neat", and then I learn they're lines taken wholesale from a book (and I think that's fine, reference is fine, but I have a bit of a chuckle over the fact that this character is the reason why the game has a giant REFERENCES option in the main menu). The literal first minute of the game is a bird telling you "oh my god, the title of this game, right? why'd they spell it like that? so fucking dumb, am I right!" It feels insecure. It reads like the writing has no confidence in itself. It has to make a comment about how silly and video-gamey it is, roll its eyes at itself, mock itself for the thing it's doing while continuing to do it without addressing it or discussing it or doing anything with it.

This is a pattern.

There's a specific part of "YIIK", at this early point in the game (we're only around the start[?] of chapter 2), that feels emblematic of the thing as a whole up to this point. Alex is getting phone calls from a stranger. They're confusing and weird and sound a little like something you might hear in a dream. They make references to some shared past, some childhood, some understanding of Alex, or maybe of you, the player. They've come up a few times. Every single time, I'm left thinking about what it could mean, how it fits in with everything we've seen so far & what the game seems to be talking about, with regards to connecting to other people and to yourself. It's a neat little thing. It's a neat idea. I'm charmed by it. As much as my thoughts on this game are largely negative, I still try to look at it fairly, to understand it, to talk about it, to let myself be surprised by it. As soon as I find myself thinking about this, my thoughts are immediately drowned out by Alex telling me how weird the phone call is, how random and uncanny and dumb this is, and how he's rolling his proverbial eyes about it, in spite of all the other paranormal happenings around him, for another period of Just Too Long. And I am sapped of all strength and I crumble to dust.

I'm genuinely transfixed. I'm transfixed! Maybe the fact that I wrote Paragraphs about the 4-or-5 hours I've seen of the game can tell you as much, even if you skip everything I wrote in them.

I can't wait to see more.

This, too, is a pattern.

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