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moonlight-prose · 2 years ago

Text

HURT

➝ 04. LOVE LIKE GHOSTS

a/n: this chapter took way too long for me to write. mainly because i lost inspo for joel briefly but thankfully @sunflowersteves and @themarcusmoreno helped me find it again. so this one goes to them for being the best enablers and helping me find my love for joel again. chapter three ended on somewhat of a low note, but this paired with the interlude will help ease that pain. i swear. for this part i am going with joel's age in the game not the show.

summary: nearly losing you broke off another piece of who joel was, leaving the distance to remain like a cracked open chasm.

word count: 8.4k+

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI (we've made it people!), cussing, angst, fluff, tad bit of romance, grief, p in v sex, oral (f receiving), injuries, the insufferable stubbornness of two people.

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The streets were empty, rotting cars scattered along the side of the highway as if pushed out of the way. They were left there to decay, vines wrapping around whatever remained of the shell, the inside hollow of memories. Everything you knew from the old life, from a world that only remained in memories now turned bitter, was gone.

You could see the cracks in the roads where the asphalt couldn’t handle the weight of the tanks that were sent in. Because warfare was always the solution to a problem that was not intent on creating war. The infection did not see humanity as its enemy, but rather something to change. Something that it could alter—creating its own version of perfection. Funny how it looked like destruction to you.

Silence filled the car as Joel drove, sticking to the main highway. The two of you had barely talked since you packed what you could from the house and left it behind. Yet another piece of your memory that would vanish sooner or later. At first you thought it was because neither of you had anything to say. But then you noticed it. The deliberate way he refused to look at you—his eyes always cast somewhere else, focused on the task at hand.

Joel was ignoring you.

“How old are you?” you asked, turning to face him as you passed yet another open and empty field.

“Old.”

You snorted, watching the way his hands shifted on the wheel, his shoulder moving as if he was uncomfortable. Which he was. You’d been around him long enough to catch when you should change the topic. Today though, you had a goal in mind—getting him to look at you.

Tracing your eyes down his silhouette, you spotted the scatters of gray coming in through his sparse beard. The sight looked endearing to you. Perhaps it was the notion that he was aging despite the travesty of the world, or maybe it was just Joel. Him and all his stubborn antics wedged their way into your heart. Yet no matter how hard you tried to rid yourself of him, he remained.

“You can’t be that old,” you said, shifting until you were practically sitting to the side, your head leaning against the seat. “I guarantee we’re closer in age than you think.”

His eyebrow raised as he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “You were nineteen when this all started?”

Surprise ran through your body at the realization that he remembered your small bit of information. “That’s right.”

Joel nodded solemnly, his eyes once again focusing back on the empty road. “I was thirty-two.”

Silently you calculated the exact age in your head, coming to the conclusion that Joel was being dramatic, and you were only thirteen years apart. He was barely leaving his thirties and had the gall to say he was old. You chuckled softly, turning back to your seat by the window—the fields now shifting to broken buildings and destroyed cities.

“Forty-two isn’t old,” you mumbled, leaning your chin on your hand.

Now it was his turn to scoff. “Feels like it darlin’.”

The newer nickname filled your chest with warmth. You bit down on your lip to conceal the smile that threatened to break through. He’d shifted from calling you Boston very recently and you began to equate that to him being serious when he was talking. Yet your actual name rarely ever came up. The last time you heard him use it was…when he was in the bathroom, doing what you figured was none of your business.

Even after you caught him in the act, you still found ways to convince yourself you were somehow wrong. Joel did not go hide in a bathroom, simply to get himself off to the thought of you. He didn’t seem like the type of man to do that. Except you still heard him. Still pretended what his raspy tone would sound like if he were to say your name against your ear, in an entirely different situation.

You wondered if that’s why he was suddenly farther from you that you would have liked him to be. Even as you sat beside one another, you still felt as if you had to travel a great distance to get closer. Joel kept you at arms length for a reason—you were guilty of doing the same—but still the ache to have him resurfaced. It screamed at you, promised you that things would be different if you just gave in, but the world told you otherwise.

It told you the truth; this was always how it was meant to go, following a broken path beside a man who could no longer discern love from grief.

Yet even as you stared reality in the face, you refused to accept it. The both of you would one day become ghosts to a world that couldn’t protect you. So why should you relinquish the last bit of good you had left? Why should you give him up?

Sighing, you opened the dashboard’s compartment, finding a small stack of old tapes inside. All of them, dusty and nearly ruined. You recognized one above them all, and the sight of the country legend’s name made you smile. Joel might have been okay with sitting in silence as he drove, but you weren’t. So, you popped it into the player, settling into the seat as Johnny Cash’s rendition of Hurt began to slowly come to life on the shitty car speakers.

You quickly glanced at Joel, seeing his body loosen up some as the song continued. While its meaning was dark, you figured it couldn’t possibly be worse than the shit both of you had already been through. In a way, the lyrics felt cathartic as you gazed out at a broken world. You found yourself grinning, watching the sun begin to shift in the sky, the heat seeping into the car.

Even though your heart felt slightly crushed at Joel’s stubbornness, you felt the hope linger. That’s what you latched onto, what you kept close to your heart for fear of watching it fade away. You just hoped Joel would one day do the same.

Turning to watch him, you felt your heart flutter at the sight. He was so broken, yet so beautiful that you felt you couldn’t stare at him for too long.

“You know we’re allowed to want things Joel,” you said softly, your eyes once again fixated on the slope of his nose and how the sunlight glinted off his cheeks. “Even if it hurts to have them.”

You didn’t say anything else, opting to settle in the seat and get some rest. Eventually you’d switch places, finding somewhere to siphon some more gas and continue. He let you rest, staying quiet as the tape continued to play, the soft country songs slowly lulling you to sleep.

It didn’t take you long to fall asleep entirely, the soft puffs of breath you let out giving Joel some odd peace of mind. He wasn’t sure what it was about you sleeping in his vicinity—maybe the extreme trust you had to have when it came to that—but he found himself loosening up as you slept. As if all the worries he had about you and him vanished.

Your words still echoed in his mind, plucking at his fears like a guitar and playing your own tune of despondent tune of loneliness. He’d heard it before, knew it note for note, but couldn’t find it in himself to play along.

There was no doubt in his mind that he wanted you. Fuck, he’d give up whatever he had left to have you, but that’s not what his fear stemmed from. No, he knew that wanting you was a secret he wasn’t afraid to let free. He was afraid of what would happen when he could finally call you his, when the barrier you both erected to keep each other safe, fell.

Joel knew what came with love, had seen the horrors of it first hand, but you…you promised him one that was easy. The simplicity of being with you was unmatched; as if he found the other part of him he didn’t know he was searching for. He was terrified of what losing you would turn him into. What would become of him if you were no longer with him? If you were lost to him. He got a taste of it that night and barely survived.

Sighing, he turned his gaze to you, eyes soft as he traced the features of your face. If he didn’t know you, didn’t have some semblance of the life you faced before he met you, he would have thought you were innocent. Just a woman who had somehow managed to make it out of this hell unscathed. Someone who had a future ahead of her.

With Joel that future would end.

He knew he wasn’t being fair towards you, knew that you had already made up your mind about what you wanted from him. If only you could see how much he wanted exactly the same thing. He wouldn’t be the same man that continued to wallow in his fears. Couldn’t go on hoping that things would change, that the world would give him a chance again at some type of normalcy. There was nothing normal left to have, but he knew this. You were right beside him, telling him that the things he wanted weren’t something to run from.

So he wouldn’t.

The car was parked when you woke up, Joel nowhere to be found. Five seconds. That’s how long it took your hazy sleep-addled mind that came back to life to panic at the sight of the empty drivers seat. You scrambled to sit up right, shoving the door open with a push that was a bit too hard. But you couldn’t reason with yourself right now. Not when Joel wasn’t anywhere near the car, his bag missing from the backseat.

Your boots hit the ground, kicking up dust. Trying to keep calm, you did your best to stop the racing of your heart. Except there was no use. You were in the middle of hell where anything could have happened to him and you had no idea how to find him. His gun was still strapped to your hip, his jacket wrapped around your body. It would be something he came back for. This you knew.

However, that didn’t dispel the doubt filling your body. Was he hurt? Was he lost? Your mind jumped to every scenario possible, terrified that the man you were too afraid to love was now gone.

Catching your breath, you mapped out the best direction he could have gone in. You figured he was looking for more gas to siphon, possibly searching for extra supplies. It made the most sense. After all he wouldn’t leave you like this, abandoned on the side of the deserted highway. Right?

“Joel?” you called, slipping the gun from its holster and heading in the direction of the abandoned building that caught your eye. You’d have to trek pretty far to get to it, but the possibility that he was inside kept you going.

“Joel!” you shouted, wincing as your voice echoed in the distance.

You had to be careful of how loud you were being. The noise would no doubt attract unwanted visitors. You certainly didn’t need that happening while you were alone, halfway to losing the last bit of sanity you had left. The sun beat down on you, heat trailing down your body with each rushed step you made towards the place. Fear filled your chest, tightening around your heart and lungs until it was hard to breathe.

“Shit,” you spit, trying to keep your shaking hands steady as you entered the broken door.

You could recognize the remnants of a gas station store, the sign in the back listing the different types of alcohol they sold, even what food they used to have. Holding your breath, you listened intently for any sounds of infected—expecting to hear the familiar clicks and growls. But you were met with a steady silence.

“Joel?” you said softly, stepping over broken glass and pieces of the rotted ceiling that most likely fell during a storm. “You better be in here Texas.” The words were muttered under your breath, simply another way for you to rid yourself of the fear.

Standing still, you hoped to hear his deep voice respond with a drawl of Boston or darlin’, but when you were given nothing, your heart dropped down to your stomach. He had to be around here somewhere, had to have come in here to find supplies. But the longer you searched through the small building, the less sure you were about your odds. The sting of tears began to build in your eyes—the emptiness eating away at your insides.

Cursing under your breath, you made your way back outside, intent on waiting in the car until he returned. You had no real plan after that. Nothing to turn to if Joel never showed up. Except you couldn’t give a shit about a plan if Joel was missing. You had survived alone before, knew you could do it again, but that was the thing. You didn’t want to.

An echo of something in the distance stopped you midstep, your finger immediately falling onto the trigger. The sun blared in your face, blocking your eyesight, but you could see it. The tall form of a man heading towards the truck. Instead of immediately assuming he was Joel, you kept your guard up. Intent on being ready for something else entirely.

But then you heard it.

“Boston!” he called out, his voice ringing in the area and hitting your ears.

You began to run. Shoving the gun in the holster, you sprinted back towards him and watched as he frantically searched around the truck.

“Joel!”

With panicked wide eyes, he spun around to face you, relief washing over his face the second he caught sight of you. It only took him a few strides to reach you, his arms ready to gather you close. Only for you to shove him until he stumbled back into the truck’s hood, his grunt of pain twisting your heart briefly. The panic, the fear, it all blended into one thing you were tired of feeling. Pain. The pain of possibly losing him after all you’d been through.

“Darlin’ what—”

“Don’t do that to me again!” you snapped, no longer able to reign in all of the emotions you tried so hard to tamp down. “I woke up and you were gone Joel! I called for you, even went into that damn building to find you, but nothing!”

“Hey—”

The tears were streaming down your face, angry and hot. “I thought you were…gone o–or…”

He yanked you forward, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist and pressing you against his warm chest. “I’m sorry.” You can feel his face buried in your neck, his arms so tight you knew you’d feel it later. Yet that’s exactly what you needed from him. “I should have woken you up.”

Perhaps you were being ridiculous about this. Breaking down over the fact that he left you alone, but you couldn’t afford to lose another person. Your heart was broken already, but losing Joel…that would kill you. Whatever pieces you had left would surely vanish the second that the two of you were parted for good. You’d grown accustomed to having him around—a person that knew you. Could see through your facade of bravery you wore every day.

He was your tether to this world, the thing that kept you going. That realization—the understanding that Joel would mean more to you than you could ever express into words—terrified you. Suddenly you had something to lose.

Joel refused to let you go, his arms still wrapped tightly around your waist. Even as you stopped crying, he continued to hold you—his face buried in your neck. You could feel the shift in the air, the understanding that whatever this was…it wasn’t temporary. Neither of you were willing to part with the other, too attached in your own odd ways.

Which only made you clutch onto him tighter, your breathing evening out the longer you were pressed to his chest. You knew you were safe in his hold, but the longer you stood out in the open unmoving, the more you gained the chance for something to find the both of you. Reluctantly, you pulled back. Still you kept your hand on his arm, unable to let go of him entirely—the adrenaline of losing him not yet spent from your system.

“How long do we keep going for?” you asked, trying to shove the slivers of your vulnerability back inside, cutting off any pain you felt.

He seemed to understand what you were doing, opting to remain close yet never once pressuring you to open up. The thought filled your chest with warmth. You wondered what that feeling was, but drew a blank in your mind. Whatever it was, you hadn’t felt in quite some time—seeming to have forgotten it altogether. You chose not to dwell on what could not be understood, focusing back on Joel and the empty road you were still on.

“I can drive for another few hours,” he replied, his hand still pressed to your waist. It seemed that neither of you were too keen on letting the other go. “But we should find someplace to hole up for the night.”

You nodded. “Do you want me to drive?”

“No.”

“Joel, you've been driving all day and all night. I can take over for a bit so you can get some—”

“No.” He pulled you closer, shocking the hell out of you when his lips pressed to your temple. His hand running up your back slowly, as if he was trying to reassure you of the things he couldn’t say out loud. All of the emotions that were trapped in both your chests, unable to be set free due to the circumstances of your life.

You understood him all the same, smiling briefly against his shoulder.

“I’ve got you darlin’,” he whispered, his nose brushing along your head.

The sensation of him close made your eyes flutter shut, the breath you’d been holding for so long, finally being set free.

You wanted to tell him every emotion running through your heart as he pulled back to meet your eyes. The brown of his irises practically saw right through you, their dark nature burning your insides. Yet in their depths, you saw the emotion he could never say, the one that remained a mystery to even you. There it would remain, unspoken and restless.

Forever trapped with no possibility of escape.

“I want you to be okay too,” you said softly, letting him in a secret that was never really hidden from him.

To some degree Joel knew that you wanted him out of harm's way. That to see him hurt would kill you just like it had killed him. Yet the stubborn streak in him told you that no matter how much you wished it into existence, nothing would come of it. His actions whispered to you the truth. I’m here to protect you. I’d do whatever it takes. Even if whatever it takes was something far worse than a minor injury here and there.

He didn’t respond, simply helped you back into the truck, slamming the door shut to make sure the rusty piece of shit (as Joel affectionately called it) actually closed. You stayed silent as he started the car, the tape starting up again, acting as the rewind button for this situation. Except this time you felt the shift, the difference in how he sat beside you. Joel was no longer ignoring you; instead he chose to rest his hand on your knee, the weight of his palm obvious—the meaning behind it nearly cracking through you like lightning.

He wasn’t avoiding the burning want that spread through him. The ache that weighed on him daily the longer he was in your presence.

Joel wanted you, this much you knew. Only now he was no longer hiding it from you.

“Are you sure the roof still works?” you asked, staring dubiously at the broken ceiling—the glow of the moon practically streaming into the torn apart room.

“It’s not like anything is coming from the sky to hurt us.”

You scoffed, watching him check every crevice of the small cabin. “No, of course not. I’m just wondering if it rains, what do we do?”

Joel shrugged, sliding the worn down table up to the door. “We’ll dry off.”

“Hypothermia still exists, Texas.” You could see him biting back the smile, his eyes squinting slightly as he rested his hands on the table. The way he leaned over it shouldn’t have caused such a reaction in your body—your heart racing and mouth going dry—but you didn’t have control over what you found attractive about him anymore. It seemed that when it came to Joel, one look your way and you were instantly drawn to him. “Well?” you asked, lips quirked up into a smirk.

Standing to his full height, he let out a breath, his eyes practically searing into your skin. “Then we’ll warm up.”

His answer was nonchalant. Said in a way that would have made you think nothing of it, but then you caught it. The way his hand clenched at his side momentarily, his chest heaving as he took in a lungful of air. If what you heard in the bathroom was right, then both of you were affected by the other. You were just too fucking stubborn to admit it.

Smiling, you dropped your bag on the floor. “Careful Texas. I might end up thinking you like me.”

You turned away from him before you could see his reaction, too afraid of what you’d find. Part of him was glad you managed to miss how his whole body practically jolted, his jaw clenching as he staved off the heat. It slowly spread down to his fingertips, his body calling out to you. He managed to keep to himself in the car, his hand never going higher than your knee, but now he felt the insatiable need return.

Only this time there was no bathroom for him to escape to.

“Hey Joel?”

He snapped out his own thoughts, tuning into the present once more. “Yeah?” he asked, his voice huskier than he would have liked it to be.

“I should have said it before—” You turned, eyes glistening with an emotion that tugged sharply on his heart. “But thank you for saving my life.”

“Darlin’—”

“I know you didn’t have to. Shit, you didn’t have to do any of this for me, but I wanted you to know I’m not ungrateful.” Rather than look him in the eye, you kept your focus on what was once a fireplace. “If it weren’t for you I wouldn’t be here. So thank you and I-I don’t know how I’ll ever repay—”

His hand cupping the back of your neck, pulling you closer cut you off. The words died on your tongue as he pressed his forehead to yours; the sigh he let out deeper than any you had heard before. Rather than keep going, you hesitantly rested your hand on his chest, the steady beat of his heart grounding you. If you had the strength, you would ask him why he did it. Why he bothered to save you that first night. But you knew the question was better left unsaid.

“There’s no repayin’ me,” he stated, pulling back slightly to meet your eyes. “You hear me?” He waited for you to nod, the movement small yet powerful. “I didn’t save you for any motive. I saved you because I…”

The words lodged themselves in the back of his throat, but you understood as if he had shouted the words from the rooftop. Because I care about you. Because when I’m with you the future isn’t bleak, it isn’t just a fantasy. Because amongst any means that make sense in this world, without you I’d cease to exist.

You would have saved him for the same reasons and that’s where this landed. The complications of your relationships were meant to go unsaid, because labeling this, putting a meaning behind the words you could never say, would ruin it. So, you nodded again, clutching his shirt in your hand and smiled to appease his nerves.

“Me too,” you whispered, feeling his heartbeat jump.

A moment passed between the both of you, simply surrounded by the echoes of nature, but then you saw it. Joel’s lips pulled up into a smile, his brown eyes looking just a bit lighter as he stared at you. The meaning of your words settling beneath his skin. It was a rare occurrence to see Joel smile, but whenever it happened you felt yourself melt beneath his gaze.

You would never tell him that he owned your heart entirely. But something in you wondered if he already knew.

“We should eat something,” he said, reluctantly pulling away from you to grab the probably expired food stashed away in his pack.

Nodding, you did your best to right your jumbled mind. “That’s a good idea.”

He tossed the small wrapped pieces of food, flicking on the single lantern he had. “I need to change your bandage after.”

“I can do it.”

“You’ll move too much.” He bit into the food and you found your gaze focused on the clench of his jaw again.

“I’ll be fine.” You ignored the chalky flavor of what used to be a protein bar on your tongue. “It’s only one wrap.”

He shook his head. “I don’t need you rippin’ open your wound, Boston”

“Joel—” His eyes snapped up to you, shutting you up instantly. “Okay,” you replied softly, biting into the bar.

Once more you allowed the echo of crickets to fill the voice between you, nature’s music becoming your background song. When you were younger, you couldn’t remember hearing the sounds of nature, too busy being overwhelmed with the chatter of the city. Yet now you felt like the world was finally waking up, allowing what remained of humanity to witness its beauty one more time.

You wanted to relish in it. To take in everything you otherwise might have missed before the outbreak, but the anguish of reality wouldn’t allow you to partake in such a peaceful act. So, you simply listened the best you could, hoping to commit the echoes of the forest to your memory.

“Do you think this is all we’ll get?” Your words caused Joel to pause. “The world. Do you think this is it?”

He wanted to say no, to tell you that he hoped for a better outcome than what they were left with, but the lie wouldn’t form. You both knew the truth of what the future held. Yet you wanted to live in the fantasy of something more just a bit longer. He wouldn’t be the one to crush that dream, to watch the small glint of hope in your eyes fade away as it had done before.

To Joel you were still dying in his arms, because he would never be released from that moment. Not entirely. That was his future. Forever stuck in a past he couldn’t change, sitting in a future he didn’t feel he deserved.

“I think we got more than we should have,” he said, squinting down at his hands. “Shows how fuckin’ stubborn humans are.”

His words settled in your mind and their cynical nature should have made you upset. But you knew this man. You could pick out his inflections just like he could see through your facades. Smiling, you put another piece of the food in your mouth, eyes tracing the slope of his nose and curve of his mouth.

“Hey Joel?” He finally looked up, molten brown eyes harboring a world of secrets you may never find out; you were okay with that though. “I’m okay with what I got.”

“Yeah?” he breathed.

You nodded. “Could have turned out worse. I could have ended up with someone from the midwest.”

He snorted, unable to stop it, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. “The midwest ain’t bad.”

“I know. It's where my brother wanted to live.” Balling up the wrapper, you leaned back on your hands, legs outstretched on the floor. “But I got you to smile.”

He found himself watching the steady rise and fall of your chest, the way your head lolled to the side, a teasing smile playing on your lips as you looked at him. For a while now he’d been able to fight back the urge to kiss you. The ache that burrowed so deep in his body he wasn’t able to chase it away, but the sight of you so open and free. It did him in.

Taking in a breath, he tried to steady the fast paced beat of his heart. He shoved away the thoughts that slowly began to seep their way back into his brain—begging him to finally act on his wishes. Instead, he cleared his throat and reached for the somewhat clean bandages he had in his pack.

He refused to act on something you clearly weren’t interested in. Or at least something he hadn’t discussed with you yet.

“I gotta change your bandage.”

Rather than bicker with him again about whether or not you were capable, you simply clambered onto the rickety armchair. It creaked beneath you, the wood nearly ready to give out if you moved too much. You figured neither of you would want to sleep in it, save for the rather decent cushions that remained.

You peeled off your jacket, the heavy fabric making a small thump as it landed on the floor, your shirt being lifted and held tightly at your chest next. After you were injured, you could barely move from the bed and even then Joel remained a gentleman. Refusing to look anywhere beyond the wound. The same one that was slowly healing over. He made a grunt of contentment as he removed the dirty bandage, seeing the slightly raised skin where a scar would eventually take its place.

“It looks good.” He pointed to the bottom half that still continued to bleed every now and again. “This part’s bein’ stubborn.”

“Ah yes,” you said, shifting to give him space to work. “It gets that from me.”

“Damn right it does,” he muttered.

You laughed, nudged his knee with your leg. “Fuck you Miller.”

“Hold still.”

“I am.”

“No. You’re not.” You could feel the glare against your cheek. The very same one you were biting into, attempting to prevent the smile from blooming across your cheeks.

“Your hands are cold,” you said, shifting away from him as he began to slide the bandage along your skin.

“They usually are.”

“No. They’re not.” You caught his eye and shrugged to remain nonchalant about the matter. “I like when they’re warm. Keeps me warm.”

His hand pressed into your thigh, holding you still—eyes still focused on your face. “Darlin’,” he warned.

You sighed, head resting on the back of the chair. “Don’t worry Joel I know.”

“You know what?” His hand didn’t move, thumb brushing lightly along your pants.

“I’m not stupid Texas. The question earlier wasn’t about the world. It was about…” He stiffened, his hold growing tighter, eyes flicking back down to your bandage. The rejection punched you in the gut once more, a final understanding dawning over you. He would never go there with you.

“Boston…”

“I know. We’re lucky with what we’ve got and believe me I’m fucking lucky to have wound up with you in the middle of all this. But I just thought what I heard the other day in the bathroom—” Your breath caught in your throat as his head snapped up, eyes wide as he finally came to the conclusion that you did in fact hear him.

Not only did you hear him, but you liked what you heard.

“You…”

Nodding, you felt his hand slip a little higher up your thigh—heat streaking through your body and causing you to go a little lightheaded.

“I want whatever you’ll give me Joel,” you whispered, your hand sliding to cover his. “I want you.”

“Fuck,” he rasped, his eyes transfixed on how you dragged his hand up higher until his fingers brushed the crotch of your pants.

“Hey Joel?” you breathed, your eyes barely open as his raised to meet your gaze.

“Yeah darlin’?”

“Kiss me.”

The words were barely out of your mouth before he was surging upwards on bended knee, his hand grasping your neck and pulling your lips to his. You gasped, hand digging into his hair to hold him to you as he devoured you. Finally you felt like you could breathe again, the air being stolen from your lungs. Only for him to breathe life back into you. His lips slid along yours, a messy combination of teeth and spit and raw passion and you loved it.

Whimpering into his mouth, you grasped onto the collar of his coat, yanking him forward until he was practically on top of you. Yet the weight of his body against yours felt comforting. As if that’s where he was always meant to be. Joal groaned when you tugged sharply on his hair, his hips bucking into your thigh, teeth sinking into your bottom lip.

“Felt you wanting to kiss me that mornin’,” he grunted into your mouth, his hand gripping tightly at your hip.

“I-I did want to kiss you—oh.” His lips pressed a wet trail down your throat, teeth nipping along the vein he could practically feel beating beneath your skin.

He wanted to make you squirm, to have you completely and utterly branded with his touch. Joel wasn’t a possessive man by nature, but you…you made him want to call you his in every manner that was possible. Your hands fell to his belt buckle, leg hitching up around his waist, and he nearly felt his eyes roll back. While he may have touched himself before, he knew the second this happened he was done for.

So, he distracted you. He clasped your hands in his and dragged them back up to his hair, his lips finding their way back to yours. You panted softly beneath him, a searing ache beginning to form in your body, spreading down to your toes. With each spit slicked kiss he pressed to your neck, chest, anywhere he could reach, you felt yourself begin to grind against his hips.

“J-Joel,” you moaned, head falling back as his hands fell to the button of your pants.

“Yeah baby?”

The name made your toes curl in your boots, the involuntary reaction one he definitely noticed if the smile on his lips was anything to go off of. Shit he liked seeing you like this. Completely pliable beneath his palms.

“Want you to—” His hand dipped into your pants, fingers brushing along your pelvis and your hips jolted, body nearly coming up off the chair.

The husky echo of his chuckle sent sparks down your spine, the warmth you’d been searching for now returning and pooling in your stomach. He was toying with you. Trying to see how much you could take before you were a pleading mess beneath him. You knew that if he kept going, he wouldn’t have to wait long until you were begging. He lit you up on the inside, his touch merely brush added to the fire that had started burning the second you met him.

He dipped into your slick, his eyes fluttering shut and a pained grunt tearing from his chest the second he found how wet you were. Something in him snapped, the broken piece of his self control finally hitting the ground with a bang. You sagged into the chair, a high pitched keen echoing off the walls when his fingers found your clit—pleasure searing its way up your spine.

“I want to—” He spit out a curse, his chest heaving with each breath he took.

Your eyes flew open the feeling of his hand pulling away from you. Only for him to yank your pants down, stripping you of anything that could possibly be in his way. Doing your best to help, you kicked off your boots until you were bare from the waist down before him. You didn’t have much time for any semblance of embarrassment to wash over your body, because Joel was yanking you forward.

He pushed you open with his shoulders, hooking your legs over them as he finally sought the one thing he’d been craving since he saw you standing outside that bathroom door. Delving in, he licked a stripe up your cunt, grinning at the broken sound that he tore from you.

Grasping onto his hair, you felt the breath leave your lungs faster than you could take it in. “Fuck, oh fuck Joel,” you cried, your mouth dropping open in bliss.

He moaned into you, his eyes meeting yours as he sucked your clit into his mouth and rolled his tongue over it. The sharp sensation of the pleasure was almost too much to bear. It flickered to life in your stomach, burning a hot path through your entire body until you could barely make out Joel’s sounds. You heard a rushing echo in your ears, your heart beating wildly in your chest.

Yet it never ceased. Joel licked into you like you were the best dessert he’d had in years. A decadent meal he wanted to take his time with. You tugged on his hair, your hips rolling over his face as he pressed his tongue into you, thrusting it the best he could.

“That’s it,” he mumbled, his eyes glazed with lust and words slurred together. “Taste’s so fuckin’ sweet.”

“Joel I-I…” You tried to catch your breath, tried to say anything, but his thumb spreading his spit up to your clit made your head spin.

“What do you need darlin’?”

“I-I—hng—want you inside me.”

His lips pulled up into a smirk, eyes shifting between your face and cunt that practically weeped for him. “When I’m done.”

“But—” He pressed his thumb down harder, cutting off your words—a whine crawling up the back of your throat.

“Always so stubborn,” he mused and you could practically hear the smile in his words. It made your heart flutter, your head falling back as his mouth sealed over your cunt again.

The echo of your slick hit your ears, the sound mixing with your combined sounds of pleasure. Creating a euphony of tunes that you could listen to forever. Joel ate you out like a man starved, like a man who would never get to partake in this act ever again in his life. You hoped that wasn’t true.

Gasping, you felt it before he did. The clench of your walls against nothing as he moaned drunkenly into you, licking at you so loudly your ears burned. The pleasure built in your body until it nearly stung, searing into you with such strength that your body bowed off the chair. Joel merely grunted, grasping onto your hips to keep you still as he kept going. You wondered if he would stop even after you came and realized you wouldn’t have to wait that long to find out.

“Joel,” you warned, but he already knew.

His thumb slid along your clit, keeping a steady pressure as he buried his tongue in you, his broken moan becoming your undoing. Grinding against his mouth, you heard yourself cry his name, your head hitting the back of the chair as the dam with you shattered. White hot bliss rushed through your body, turning you into a mess of whimpered cries and pleas for Joel to keep going. Yet he seemed to not hear you. Lost in the taste of you that practically flooded his mouth.

Your legs trembled as he slowed down, lapping at your cunt gently so as to gather every bit of you on his tongue. Everything in your mind fell silent, the hum of pleasure in your veins the only thing you could focus on—a type of peace you hadn’t had in a long time. Joel pressed a wet kiss to your thigh, his teeth scraping over the skin as if he wanted to leave a bite mark so deep it would forever be a part of you.

A part of you wanted it to happen; wanted to feel the blooming pain as his teeth sunk into your skin. At least then you’d know you were still there, still alive. But then he pulled away, running his palms up and down your thighs as he waited for you to come back to him.

“Holy shit,” you breathed, unable to move a single limb in your body.

His laugh brought you back, the steady heat once again pooling into your stomach. “I want to do that again.”

Your stomach swooped. “Later,” you said, your voice shaking with a new surge of need.

Joel tugged you lightly, telling you exactly where to go without words, and you followed. Sliding off the chair, you cringed at the wet mess between your thighs, but the sight of his chin smeared in you washed that feeling away. He was covered in you and without thinking you pulled him closer, licking into his mouth and moaning at the taste of yourself on his tongue. That heady sensation returned, crashing into you like a tidal wave.

“Please.”

He maneuvered you into his lap, your knees pressing into the dirty ground beneath him. But neither of you cared where you were, because all of that vanished. Everything became nonexistent, leaving just Joel and the way he was looking at you.

“I’ve got you darlin’,” he murmured, helping you unbuckle his pants to pull his cock out. He stifled a moan against your shoulder as your hand wrapped around him, the throbbing ache he’d managed to ignore now flaring to life in his body.

He knew if you stroked him for longer than a few minutes this would be over before it began. But he also couldn’t deny how fucking incredible it felt to feel you touch him like this. He breathed your name against the shell of your ear, his hips bucking into your palm, heat streaking down his spine. Joel wanted to savor this, to remember what exactly this intimacy felt like.

Except then he felt it, the tightening in his stomach that signaled the end. Yanking your hand away, he fought against the release that threatened to spill over him, his body shaking with the effort. Grunting, he felt your hand run down his back, your lips trailing along his jaw as you murmured compliments to him. Words that made his face stain red and mind go hazy.

“You’re so pretty Joel.” Your hands curled around the large width of his shoulders, your hips grinding down into his lap. “So handsome.”

“Fuck,” he moaned pathetically, unable to stop himself from unfurling into your touch.

Your hand dug into his hair, tilting his head until his lips found yours again. Kissing him was like finding the missing pieces of yourself all in one fell swoop. You felt whole with him, like the person you could have been rather than the person you were. Smiling against his lips, you felt his hands slide down to your ass, kneading the flesh in his palms.

You still wore your shirt and he had barely undressed, but it still remained perfect. Neither of you cared about how special this was or whether it was on a bed or not, because this was all you could get. This is what the world gave you. The both of you were too greedy to ask for anything else, stealing away this moment until it disappeared beneath your touch.

“Want you to fuck me Joel,” you breathed hotly against his neck, your hips rolling over his. You gasped simultaneously as the head of his cock caught on your clit, the pressure debilitating.

“Yeah? You want me to ruin you?” Nodding, you felt heat spread up your neck. He mouthed at your neck, his hand wrapping around his cock to position it at your entrance and allow you to make the first move.

Which you did without hesitation. You scratched your nails along the back of his neck as you sunk down onto him, the stretch along your walls slightly painful with how big he was. It had been a long time since you allowed yourself to be like this with anyone and you figured Joel knew exactly how that felt. He struggled to maintain control over himself as you slowly took him into your cunt, your walls clamping down around him—nearly throwing him off the edge.

“Fuck darlin’,” he grunted, his fingers digging into your hips. “Squeezin’ me so tight.”

Clutching at his shoulder, you tried to steady yourself, the tremble in your legs nearly too much for you. But Joel wasn’t letting you go that easily. Nipping at your collarbone, he helped you take him all the way in small strokes. You felt the rapid beat of his heart pressed against yours, the way he tried to distract himself from the feel of your body wrapped around him.

“Wait, wait,” he panted the second you sat fully in his lap again, his cock throbbing along your walls. “I—oh shit—I want this to last.”

You nodded, pressing your forehead to his as you allowed your body to adjust the feel of him inside you. “We’ll go slow.”

He laughed, dropping a kiss to your chest. “Only need a minute baby.”

“I don’t want to wear you out.” The mischief in your smile could be heard through your words; Joel’s shoulders now shaking from laughter. “After our conversation earlier, you have me thinking you’re an old man—”

Him grinding you down into his lap cut off your words with a sharp gasp, the smile falling from your lips as your mouth dropped open. Something sharp, intense, unfurled in your core, blooming throughout your body and turning your mind hazy. Mimicking the movement, you felt it again, his cock rubbing slightly right where you needed him most.

“How about now?” he taunted, scraping his teeth along your jaw, his hands slipping beneath your shirt to cup your breasts.

“Shit.” Tugging on his hair you felt him smile against your cheek.

“Am I still old?”

“More,” you pleaded, rolling your hips in stunted movements, the position you were in only allowed you so much.

“Yeah?” Guiding your hips, he felt your walls clamp down even tighter, the pressure causing white to flash behind his eyes.

“Feels so good Joel.” Your eyes were half open, the lust burning in them so bright he felt it in his chest.

He wanted to stay there, forget the world existed and remain wrapped around you. Who would miss either of you? No one. Which is what made the idea so fucking appealing.

You leaned back, one hand pressed against the floor as you sought the perfect angle and as he pulled you back on his cock, a moan climbing out of his throat, he felt it. The way your whole body practically bowed out of his hold. A sharp keening cry ripping from you. He nearly lurched forward, the tight sensation in his stomach growing closer by the second, his body going as taut as yours.

“Fuck, fuck. Darlin’ I’m not gonna last,” he muttered, shifting you quickly until you were pressed into the ground. Your leg going up and over his forearm.

Scrambling to hold onto him, you felt your eyes roll back, the sharp searing heat now spreading rapidly through every single part of you. Whatever words or praises you might have said, turned into incoherent noises of pathetic whimpers and moans. Joel shoved his hips into yours, striking so perfectly right where you needed him, that you felt the pleasure mount until it nearly broke you inside.

You dragged his lips back to yours, attempting to meet his thrusts with small ones of your own, but the lower half of your body was already pinned to the ground. His hands kept you still as he drove into you so earnestly, you were certain your release would stop your heart.

“J-Joel!” you sobbed, your head falling to the floor and back going rigid.

“C’mon baby,” he grunted, his hand seeking out yours. Clasping his fingers around yours, he pressed your entwined palms into the ground, keeping it at his leverage.

The one thing grounding him as he lost himself in you.

An echo of your slick and skin slapping against skin filled the small cabin, his panted out grunts and your incoherent cries, nearly deafening to both your ears. Joel’s other hand found your clit and with one final devastating thrust, you broke.

The breath was punched from your lungs, the singular word—his name—turning into a ragged gasp. Your cunt clamped down, body shaking, as you forced him off the edge with you. Joel’s hand slammed to the ground, his hips thrusting into you the best he could while he spilled into you, the warmth of his cum practically leaking out. For a moment neither of you could breathe, lost in the sensation of pleasure thrumming in your veins.

Joel’s breaths matched your own, his lips trailing up your chest until he eventually found his way back to your lips. A smile spreading on his face. You laughed, your hands brushing his hair away from his damp forehead, and felt him twitch inside of you. The small grunt letting you know that the both of you were a bit too sensitive now.

“Hey Boston?” he asked, his nose brushing against yours—the smile on your face matching his.

“Yeah Texas?”

He stole another kiss, his thumb running along your cheek. “I’m lucky to have wound up with you too.”

Warmth filled your chest, that now familiar feeling you could finally place, returning with a new vigor. Except this time you welcomed it. Above Joel’s shoulder you caught the glimmer of stars through the broken ceiling, the clear night sky a beautiful backdrop to the man above you. Yet you still found yourself captivated by the brown in his eyes, the shine of hope that hadn’t been there before.

You would never be able to tell him what you felt, always keeping it close like a secret. But tonight you’d get to savor it.

Tonight you could pretend that just for a moment…Joel Miller loved you too.

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller #the last of us fic #the last of us #my writing

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tag-that-oc · 7 months ago

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QUESTION! Are there any obvious ideas I missed for an OC I will share that will flesh them out more? (I say obvious because developing unique ideas isn't your job. I'd like to ask, since you as a collective blog have experience with original characters).

Essentially, her name is Koda, and she is a twenty-one-year-old human(oid) who's a bit messed up. I intentionally autism-coded her (and have been debating/nervous about making it canon), since I am autistic, and I wanted to give her a few traits that I feel 'boiling' inside of me. She's particularly interested in creating stuff from other things, especially exotic materials (from, say, exotic sources).

More specifically, she's an absolute fan of monsters and freaky animals. Even more specifically, she makes crafts out of them, such as manipulating hard pieces of animal to create weapons (blunt heads, blades, mechanism shells for more complex stuff), using skin to create unique leather, either for style or for unique purposes (a fire-based monster's leather being fireproof? Good for a journal, maybe?), and finally, making meats and organs into foods.

Her past isn't the best. Her (supposed) biological parents died protecting the town they lived in while she was young, being adopted by a soldier who had found her wandering. This man, named Elmer, was mostly nice, but he intentionally isolated her from groups of people he didn't like (which is dangerous, since the world is rather strict about hate-fueled actions), which mostly included people who went against the typical stuff of nature (the queer community of that world). She did have internet access, but since she believed him, she also believed that she was reading nonsense (as he had told her).

A stranger who was injured met her, and she managed to dig up the courage to help him to a clinic. He helped her gain the confidence to socialize with others by listening to her rambling as they walked. Not only that, he asked questions and was generally a nice person in return for her helping him.

This let her interact with people she didn't understand fully and slowly began to come to an understanding. The nonsense she read online was real--and these people weren't bumbling idiots, they were genuine people, who weren't forcing anything onto anybody. Because of the people Elmer tried to hide from her, she learned more about herself than she ever would with him alone. She was attracted to women, as opposed to men, and it added a little more sense to her life.

When confronting Elmer with this, however, he grew irrationally angry and grew far more aggressive than he had EVER been in her life--alongside this, he did something for the first time and punished her with actual pain and injury. In his manic state, he forced his own daughter's hands into their furnace, and although it was only for a few seconds, the damage had been done.

He made her go outside and seemed to regret the irrational and violent reaction, but not before a familiar stranger had wandered the streets he had before and caught his eye on a silhouette familiar to him. The man who had unintentionally given the courage to explore approached her. She didn't cry, yet her blankness explained more than enough. The man looked inside the building to see another man he recognized, and not positively. The furnace, the familiar man, and the cowering young woman with seared hands, it was not hard for him to piece it all together.

The familiar stranger curtly explained for her to sneak in, take her things, and flee somewhere, intentionally trying to engage her survival instincts so she could be safe from Elmer. As she blearily complied, he ran in with his blade and raked scars across the man. She had given him a request, blurry yet clear, and he complied. The man was left sobbing, blaming Koda as she blankly ran with blood streaking down his flesh. The man with the blade imparted to him that he would not hurt her again, and knocked him unconscious.

The series of events was unfortunate, but she went to the only other place she knew for real; her parents were not from the village she was born in, and so, she made her way to a place known as Timu town. It was a respectable journey on foot, but she managed to make it, nearly falling unconscious just as she stepped into town. Yet, a woman found her. Not only did she find her, she took her to her home, and nursed her until she awoke.

For a while, although the woman let her stay, Koda remained closed to her, not even exchanging names with her. Yet, the woman pried into her with wisdom that could only be responded to with respect and comfort. Her name was Rhoane, and Rhoane listened to what Koda had to say with a similar respect to the familiar stranger who had given her this opportunity.

And, so, Rhoane allowed Koda to live with (as long as she contribute to the household of course), and Koda's life has been alright since!

Yet, (spoilery for her story), she doesn't realize that Rhoane is the mother of the familiar stranger, *and* her grandmother!... And that the familiar stranger is her father.

Uhh... sorry for rambling. Again, if there are any easy ideas I'm missing to flesh her character out, please point them out! If not, just have my rambling.

She sounds really interesting!! sounds like you've done a really good job of fleshing her out already. Not a specific idea, but I find that if a character needs fleshing out more something that helps is putting them in various different situations that they wouldn't end up in canonically to figure out how they would react in those situations. And sometimes you find out new things about them in the process!

#themrmoki #oc show and tell #moss answers #abuse #tw abuse

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thestagsman · 2 years ago

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I love how Fujimoto can make you relate to, and make you feel like you know a character in a single chapter. Denji’s introduction builds so much Sympathy, here is a young boy beaten down by the world in the worst ways and he is clearly never going to survive to adulthood. But all that’s ok with him he has a best friend, pochita who he share his love and dreams with. Then he dies, pochita dies, then pochita sacrifices himself to bring him back to live out his dreams, then he becomes a slave of the state/makima. Denji’s whole back story piles on that sympathy very effectively. Then the next few chapters come out and reveal he’s kinda an asshole. Obsessed with sexual things, rude, doesn’t care about right and wrong; Yoru describes him perfectly he’s a punk. You learn all these bad thing about him slowly after your front loaded with sympathy for him and you know what that’s ok. He can be a rude punk, he deserves to be one after life and everyone else dealt him a shitty hand. He’s still charming, he is still that beaten down little kid chasing his dreams like he told his dog he would.

That’s why I’m so excited for the next chapter because it is going to be Nayuta’s chapter. We still don’t know who Nayuta really is, heck we still don’t know who Asa really is.

Asa was front loaded with sympathy too, not as heavy handed but over a longer period of time. She is an isolated loner. Whenever she tries to emerge from that she fails so she adds on layers to it instead. Her only friend tries to kill her out of jealousy, at the same time the kind teacher in her life turns out to be a predator. What’s saves her from that fate is a devil that takes over half her brain. Then her new best friend turns into the school shooter and if you remember the panel of Asa siting in the sun chair trying to process what was just said you can tell how ruined she feels on the inside. Then we finally start to get to know the shitty parts about after all that time. She hates people to the degree that she would rather kill a person/Denji than a cat to end her suffering. She is Arrogant, quick to anger, despite for others approval, and worst of all a bad date. But that’s fine to because we see her still desperately trying to make connections and get out of that shell.

Nayuta still hasn’t been properly introduced only hinted at. We haven’t heard how she talks or what she thinks about things yet. Her two brief intros to the story so far have been very different. In part one she is a vessel for hope to Denji after his family is destroyed pochita presents Nayuta as a blank slate a new beginning for himself and her to build a new family and be better than before. Her intro in part 2 has invoked Makima. Both Denji and Fujimoto have refused to use her name instead saying roommate, sister, or friend. Her name was hidden in the house with only a few letter of her name shown. She is described as we would think of Makima; intelligent, extreme personality, she creates a need for rules. Then for the brief moment she shows up her silhouette in the door way resembles Makima, she controls her dogs, and she ‘kills’ Asa with one word and a pointed finger like with what happened to power. In part 2 we are lead to believe that it all failed, it was a false hope to believe the control devil could be changed and it’s all happening again. However, their were hints that she is not who she was in the last chapter. Her house plant is dying from being over watered where Makima’s house they were thriving. She is farting competition with Denji, something her previous competition would never do. So in the next chapter will Fujimoto front load us and Denji with these fears of Makima returning while hinting that she is different underneath it all? Or immediately hit us with how different she truly is?

#chainsaw man #csm #denji #asa mitaka #Nayuta #p2 #over therized

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verysmolnerd · 1 year ago

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Double-shift Drowsiness

Drabble: You're ten minutes from closing and your former professor comes in asking for directions.

I think it’s blatantly obvious that I don’t like working minimum-wage jobs. Hell, my very first fic posted on the internet was because I was treated like shit at a retail store. Now, it’s a little better but that doesn’t mean I’m still not getting the butt end of a stick. This be a vent drable… my bad.

Cw: Swearing

God fucking dammit.

You’re here again, for another summer, to take a ludicrous amount of bullshit from your coworkers just to shell in a few more dollars towards your college tuition.

Normally, the shifts are bearable and you can come home fine, but when you’re there all day sunrise to sunset, it isn’t ideal coming home with so much grease on you. When you shower, you don’t even feel the water on you for a minute because of how much grease had gotten in your skin.

As for the coworkers part, it’s mainly just one blonde bitch in particular. Specifically, a carhop that’s more entitled than the angry customers here and has the audacity to be a douche to anybody and everybody. When she speaks it always sounds like she cops some sort of attitude when she comes back into the kitchen.

The only time -as of recently- when she isn’t acting like a punchable brat, is when the general manager of the kitchen staff is around. You had pointed out to them that she was only doing this to be in their good graces, and they agreed; explaining to you that they’ve already talked with her numerous times but she still refuses to listen. You could only hope that one day she’ll get the boot like someone that everyone else in the kitchen even refuses to talk about.

It always feels like when one problem from the kitchen gets extinguished, three more pop up. With whom that shall not be named is gone, all the kitchen staff are comfortable with talking with each other and making jokes without someone coming in to ruin the mood or harass you. Now, the problem is the one carhop acting like the next cockroach of the damn place and new hires refusing to do work. May you be reminded that you’re only here for the summer and ONLY HERE TO MAKE MONEY FOR THE UPCOMING SCHOOL YEAR.

…

Why do you care so much? It’s just who you are, sadly.

Now you’re here, still at the restaurant ten minutes to close. You were calmly wiping down the countertops while the general manager had some nostalgic slow songs from the 2000s playing on a Bluetooth speaker that somehow is still working after months of straight abuse and constant use.

Your other coworkers in the kitchen -you guys just call each other comrades at this point with how tight you are with all the workers that have those strong skills back here- were sweeping and restocking the fridges for the deep fryer or grill. It’s peaceful, well, as peaceful as a food service kitchen could be.

Everyone was just as tired as you were because it was really late and a long day for those who didn’t work a double shift like you. You needed the hours, what else could you say? Unfortunately, the amount of tiring work doesn’t dawn on you until you’re working over forty hours a week.

You could see the silhouette of two cars pull in from the packing window, and you sighed. Late stragglers. Somehow, the most desperate people to get to a cheap chain restaurant are also the people who order half of the menu, it infuriates you to no end.

One car pulled right up in the spot in front go the building, and the other pulled in at a farther spot. You close your eyes and exhale, this is a common thing to happen so you’re not surprised. You are, however, annoyed that everyone in the building is bitching about it.

What you weren’t expecting, was the person who parked so close to the building to come inside. It’s not like you truly cared anyway, you were just upfront to refill your drink; you haven’t done so in hours and you were beyond parched.

Your back was to the counter as you waited for the machine to finish pouring your drink, not expecting your name to be called. You turn around, thinking it’s some sort of coworker calling you….

But it was Otto. Your former professor of all people. Dressed in those turtlenecks that hug his figure with dress pants and completing shoes that shine under the restaurant lobby’s lights.

You lock eyes with him and freeze, both of you staring at each other in shock. “What are you doing here?” You ask him, you’d never thought that you’d see him again…period. “I could say the same about you,” he responded, fumbling with his hands.

You can feel a few of your coworkers peer through the small window to look at you and the front staff watch the conversations from the blind spots of the counter. You sighed, “This is my hometown. I work here in the summer.” Otto glanced over the counter and noticed the nosy staff, they quickly retreated to the backrooms when they were discovered.

“I just came to ask for directions since my phone died.” Otto held up the dead device. You nodded, setting your cup down on the counter, “Where are you headed?.. Or where do you think you’re headed?” This isn’t a common thing when people want to go somewhere in this part of the state but end up getting lost, the maps are outdated when you’re this rural, so you’ve had to point a few people the right way. “A retreat where some of my colleagues are, it’s supposed to be more up north..” He paused, you know Otto very well; he hates making mistakes, to be seen as an idiot when he genuinely didn’t know something, “but I think I took a wrong turn- ” he told you the name of the camp with a few descriptors of the place, and you nodded.

You walked up near the front of the store and picked up a pamphlet, “I think this is the camp you’re talking about,” You handed the advertisement to Otto. He smiled brightly, “Yes it is.” You can see the relief across his face.

“Good news then. You’ve only got two more hours worth of driving on the main road.” Otto’s face fell, it seemed that the urban convenience he’d had his whole life might’ve been a stunt to his patience. Though you don’t blame him, night driving in the countryside can be quite nerve-wracking. Deer are the most ruthless to people from the city.

You let out an airy chuckle, “Is it bound to get dark soon,” You eyed the electronic clock, it displayed the time 9:00 pm, “Are you sure that you want to drive when it’s dark out?” Otto looked like he wanted to say yes, but he stopped himself.

“You’ll crash at my place tonight.” Otto opened his mouth to protest, but the carhop of your nightmares entered the restaurant and walked right up to him. “Hi! How can I help ya?” You clenched your jaw at the sickly-sweet tone she uses. Otto waved her off, “Ah, no thanks I’m just asking for directions from a friend of mine.” Otto gestured to you with those huge hands of his. You felt yourself heat up with pride, he sees you as more than a student; well, you do have his number…

You can see that the source of your dismay clenched her teeth with a customer service smile before walking away. Otto cleared his throat, “About earlier-“ “Yeah, you can just follow my car home.” You gave him zero room to say no.

“Ah, just a sec,” You walked into the kitchen to see if it was okay, but the team lead already waved you off and said, “Go.”

Well shit.. alright then..

You grabbed the stuff you brought with you and you clocked out on an outdated machine up front. You waved to Otto to follow you, to the parking lot. You got in your car, and he got into his, and now you’re leading him to your place.

It wasn’t that far of a drive, the longest part was making a left turn from one of the main roads, there always seemed to be cars there when you wanted to make a turn.

You pulled into your driveway and were now getting your keys out to unlock the front door. You felt the warmth of your previous professor at your back fighting the chilly night air. It was about time that the nights got cooler again, it’s nearly September after all…

You open the front door and hold it for Otto, but he uses his height to keep it open; his hand is high above your head to keep the door open, “No, it’s fine you can go in first.” You thanked him and went inside.

You were in the process of putting your things away in their respective spots when the front door shut behind Otto, he was watching you move around your house with ease; like clockwork. “You keep yourself on quite the schedule.” He watched you move around your kitchen, but then you stopped to look at him after he said that. “Oh, don’t let me stop you.” He moved his hands in a manner to tell you to keep moving. “No, I was just wondering if you’ve already eaten dinner? I can whip something up if you’d like.” You explained yourself, Otto nodded and you swore his face was a bit pink, “I did, thank you for asking, but about staying here-“ You cut him off again, “What kind of person would I be if I didn’t let the person I care about stay here for the night,” You turned to shut off the kitchen lights and show him to your bedroom, but you stopped yourself to relay that information to him, “You can stay in my bedroom, what kind of host would I be if you’re not comfortable?”

“I was just going to say that I can sleep on the couch,” Otto protested, but you weren’t having it.

“No, I’ll be fine. I have tomorrow off, you need the rest so you can drive.” “You need the rest so you can have a nice day off.” Otto folded his arms.

“No-“

“Let’s not-“

You both cut each other off in the argument..

….

You and Otto are now both dressed down in bed, looking at each other completely flushed and in partial shock from the stubbornness you both share.

You click off the night, and Otto speaks, “Well, good night.” “Love you.” You automatically responded. You froze and Otto laughed.

“Love you too.”

#fanifiction #fanifc #drabbles #otto x reader #otto octavius x reader #pre accident! Otto #otto octavius #the nerd writes

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auxiliarydetective · 1 year ago

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The OC Halloween Challenge - Day 18

You can find the challenge here!

Today's prompt was...

What’s The Opposite Of Miracles?

Places of worship are supposed to be places of good, where people go for guidance and safety, places full of good beings and devoid of sin. But what if the bad beings sneak in or the sinless place is just a hiding place for those full of sin?

Once again, inspiration struck me for this only once, so there was no poll. I simply remembered a fairly famous scene in a convent about a certain group of paratroopers and realized I needed to write something for Anita. So, here you go:

Anita felt the water run down her skin, a feeling she had missed very dearly these last few months. Week after week, day after day, huddled up in foxholes, not having showered in ages. She had tried to decline the sisters' generous offer multiple times at first. The men weren't allowed inside the living area of the sisters where they had their showers, only Anita was, because she was a woman. Usually it was always her who was denied something because of her gender, so she had tried not to abuse this situation. But in the end, after Lip had encouraged her multiple times, Captain Speirs had ordered her, and so she had taken up the offer in the end. At first she had still felt a little guilty, but the water raining down on her had washed the guilt away along with the dirt.

Anita stepped out of the shower and dried herself off, including her hair, as best as she could. She braided her hair into two braids along her head, turning them into snail-like buns above her neck, the way she had done it so many times since first putting on her jump boots. Finally, she slipped back into the same old, worn-out uniform as before, only that, beneath the fabric, she finally felt clean again.

When she stepped out of the shower room, she was greeted by a whistle and a familiar voice:

"Heeey, Anita! Lookin' sharp! Ready to perform a striptease again?"

Anita scoffed, the response coming out as a reflex:

"Shut up, Skip."

But then she remembered. It hit her like a mortar shell directly to the heart, exploding her flesh without harming it at all, yet the pain was the same. Everything that she had miraculously managed to ignore during her shower came back to her now, all at once. Immediately, tears formed in her eyes. She was frozen in place, couldn't move, couldn't think, only remember.

"You don't wanna talk to your old pals?" Another voice asked, clearly that of Alex Penkala. "Come on, it hasn't been that long."

Shakily, Anita managed to turn around. Behind her stood Skip Muck and Alex Penkala, clothes and bodies stained by dirt and remains of a mortar shell. But there was no blood. Immediately, Anita started sobbing, doubling over.

"Sh," Alex said softly. "It's okay, don't cry."

"Please, don't cry," Skip continued. "We can only have one person see us, so, please, keep quiet if you can."

Anita nodded, covering her mouth with her hands, trying to steady her breathing. This couldn't be real. It had to be a hallucination. By everything she knew, she had probably gotten shot during Dike's awful attempt at an assault on Foy, and everything after that had been either something she was cooking up during a coma or her way of dealing with the journey to the afterlife. Whatever it was, she wasn't going to resist. Even if she was definitely only imagining Skip and Alex being there, she was going to cherish every minute she had with them. They sat down against a wall together, Anita in the middle, Skip on one side, Alex on the other. Their arms touched hers, an odd coldness radiating off of them like a foggy mist. She didn't comment on it, and neither did she mention the fact that they were supposed to be dead. They definitely were dead. But she feared that saying it out loud would cause their apparitions to disappear.

Just as that thought crossed her mind, Anita saw silhouettes around her. She recognized them immediately, having grown so used to identifying them in pitch black nights. Donald Hoobler, Kenneth Webb, Harold Webb, Herron, Mellet, Sowosky... They were the fallen of Bastogne and Foy. All of them gathered together, sitting down in a circle on the floor.

"So, what did we miss?" Skip asked, throwing Anita a smile.

So, Anita started to tell them everything, trying not to sob too much. She couldn't stop herself from crying, the tears steadily flowing down her cheeks, dropping down onto her uniform. All the while, she kept talking, as if there were nothing odd about the situation at all. She summarized the action of the last few days like she would to someone who had just gotten back from the aid station. Nevermind the fact that these people had been even further away. After she was done recounting the events of Foy, they started reminiscing about Toccoa, about Aldbourne, D-Day, Holland... That was until there were steps down the hallway. One by one, the images of her brothers in arms faded as Anita gave them one last smile, doing her hardest to swallow her cries.

"There you are."

"Johnny," Anita replied, giving him her best fake smile. It was just now that she realized how exhausted she actually was. She felt like she couldn’t get up, so she stayed right there, on the ground, where she had been surrounded by fallen friends only a few seconds ago.

"You were expecting someone else, huh?"

"Kinda. But it’s not a bad surprise." Anita patted the floor next to her, prompting Johnny to sit down where a corpse had been sitting a minute before.

"I was starting to think you'd drowned yourself in the showers. I wouldn’t blame you. Nice way to die, compared to out there. At least it's warm. I was worried you'd had the same thought."

"What, and take Don down with me? You know damn well that, at this point, if I die, Don’s gonna follow right behind. I can't do that to him. He's gotta live."

"So do you. Your dad would be losing his only daughter, Arizona would lose a hell of a performer, and we'd all be losing a great friend. Some even more than that."

Anita smiled and shook her head. "You'd be losing your chance at seeing me naked is what you'd do."

"I didn't say that but you did promise that you'd perform for us one day. All the way back in Aldbourne, a few days before D-Day."

"And as long as there's one Toccoa guy still alive, I'll keep that promise."

"See? You don't get to die."

"Hm."

They sat in silence for a while, just staring down the hallway and enjoying the warmth of being inside after so long. But the memory of Skip, Penkala and the others didn't want to leave Anita alone.

"Johnny, do you believe in ghosts?" she finally asked.

Johnny shrugged. "Can't say I've ever seen one. But I could've sworn I heard you talking to someone on my way here and then there was just nobody there."

"I was talking to Skip and the others," Anita admitted before she'd had any time to think about it. "I figured they might wanna know Dike is gone, maybe celebrate a little now that they're not busy fighting anymore."

Johnny scoffed and shook his head. "I hope they get beer in the afterlife. They can make a toast to Dike's incompetence and send a poltergeist to trip 'im up."

Anita sighed. "Please don't tell anyone I talked to dead people, I don't want a Section 8. I'd rather bite a bullet than that."

"I'll stay quiet."

"Be honest, do you think I'm insane?"

"No, I just think you’re tired and you need to sleep." Johnny patted her back, then got to his feet, holding a hand out to her. "C'mon, up we go." Anita took his hand and let herself be pulled up from the ground. "Go cuddle with your boyfriend, hm? Maybe it'll help you both fall asleep. Last time I checked, he was sitting there like an exhausted toddler with a beard. I think he needs a kiss and I'm not giving it to him."

Anita smiled. "I get it. Do you need a kiss? Special offer, you know I'm taken."

"If Don tries to beat me up tomorrow because of this, I'll steal your hairbrush."

"Jokes on you, I won’t be needing it for the next few days."

Anita gave him a quick peck on the cheek, then pulled him back towards were the others were.

"Come on, you need sleep too, otherwise you'll be permanently grumpy again."

#this is just a very weird mix of angst fluff and banter #i kinda love it #band of brothers #skip muck #alex penkala #johnny martin #band of brothers oc #oc: anita reed #ohc2023 #tw suicide allusion

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whisker-biscuit · 1 year ago

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The Lines We Cross: Chapter 16

High Class Heist

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Trust is the antidote that overcomes fear

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Sly scaled one of the ramshackle buildings on the deck and crouched on its roof, taking a moment to scan the area for anything different from the last time he’d been here. He could see Carmelita making a beeline for the front half of the ship from his perch; her silhouette was obscured in the dark of the storm but the way she moved was like a bright beacon compared to everyone else he knew was onboard. He waited until she was gone from his line of sight before turning his attention towards the stern.

He had told her that he didn’t know much about boats, and that wasn’t a lie. But he did know a lot about this one, and that was going to make all the difference.

Without any further dallying, the raccoon dropped down the other side of the building and sprinted for a large iron door tucked far out of sight that led to a descending stairwell. It was unlocked, just like he knew it would be, and he slipped inside and started heading downward.

The temperature increased tenfold from freezing outside rain to sweltering machinery air the deeper he got into the bowels of the ship. It was a heat he was both very familiar with and didn’t miss at all, and immediately his brow broke out in sweat as he dashed through steam-filled rooms and shimmied between scalding metal and open flames. There were a multitude of workers down here, too, but avoiding them was the easiest part – most of them were too absorbed in their work to even notice him, and he held his breath to slip by those that were a little more observant.

After only a few minutes of sneaking and dodging and hiding, Sly found himself in a place he hadn’t been to in weeks: the boiler room.

He stopped just inside, surprised to see the place empty, and looked around to make sure he was well and truly alone. All the engines were humming in a state of standby, ready and able to be pushed into overdrive at the single press of a button. They weren’t what he was here for, though – that prize was in the center of the room, larger than any of its kin and chugging along at max capacity.

Sly ran his fingers along the tiniest of dents in its outer shell. His eyes trailed to the ground, but no red stains could be found. Those dents were the only physical reminder of what had happened here only days before the raccoon had been picked up and sent to the States. He wondered, morbidly curious, whether the bodies had been disposed of in one of the open furnaces or if they’d been thrown out to sea.

There was no use dwelling on bad memories when he had a job to do, so he pulled out his cane and raised it over his head.

Heavy footsteps from behind him. The raccoon stiffened and turned around to see the walrus welder he had once been paired with standing just inside the doorway. She stared at him in shock before her expression hardened and her hand started going towards the radio at her hip.

“Wait! Just – wait,” he pleaded, holding his hands up like there was nothing wrong with the picture in front of her. It wasn’t quite as effective with his cane out, and he could see it in the way her eyes kept darting between it and his face with visible, suspicious confusion.

The look on her face suggested she wasn’t sure if he was going to jump her. If she were just a little bit closer, he probably would have.

“What are you doing here, kid?” She asked warily. One foot was bouncing erratically as though she was torn between retreating or advancing. “The boss never said anything about you coming back.”

“You’re right, this wasn’t planned. I wasn’t supposed to be back yet.” Lies were always more convincing with a grain of truth to them, he’d long ago discovered. The raccoon hoped with all his might that it would be enough this time. “But Raleigh brought me here because some of his colleagues have gotten caught, and he didn’t want me accidentally leaking info if I was caught, too.”

For a few seconds, it seemed like his deception was going to be successful. The walrus was starting to relax, bit by bit, and he slowly put his hands down in response. But then her gaze drifted to the machinery behind him, and her confused frown grew deeper and deeper.

“Isn’t that…” The moment realization hit her, the welder’s eyes went wide with shock and anger. She raised a finger at Sly that trembled with rage. “You’re trying to stall the ship.”

“What are you talking about?” Sweat trickled down his temple. “I’m just doing my job down here, same as you and everyone else.”

It wasn’t enough. She snarled – but instead of rushing forward to stop him like he thought, she turned on her heel and fled the room, and Sly’s entire body was flooded with ice in the middle of an inferno.

“Shit! Fuck!” He started to run after her, then stopped and glanced back at the chugging engine. It had to be destroyed, and this might be his only chance to do so safely – but if the walrus got away from him before her could stop her from making a call, then Raleigh was going to learn there was an intruder onboard.

Raleigh was going to learn he was onboard. He couldn’t let the frog know he was here, couldn’t be found, couldn’t be caught – because if he was caught then there’d never be a chance to escape again.

But the only way to truly escape was if the ship was trapped in the bay.

Sly inhaled and turned back around, swinging his cane with all his might at the machinery. The jolt of the impact ricocheted up his arms not unlike the tombstones in Mz. Ruby’s swamp, but he couldn’t afford to be unbalanced by it. He swung again, and again, and again, until the engine was a smoking, sputtering mess and he could hear everything around him start to power down.

Then he sprinted after the woman.

Through rooms, between furnaces, dodging heat and smoke and startled workers, the raccoon ran for all he was worth. There was only one way out of the engine room, which he raced for while praying to anything that might listen that he could catch her before it was too late. The stairwell was empty as he took the stairs two at a time, and his heart was in his throat when he burst out onto the deck.

Nothing. Not even a fleeing shadow. The walrus was gone.

Fuck! Fuck! Cào! Fuck!

Overwhelmed by terrified failure, Sly’s knees gave out beneath him and he was forced to prop himself up against the iron door as static crept up his limbs and into his lungs. It was over. She was going to tell Raleigh, and Raleigh was going to find him here. The frog would drag him kicking and screaming back into hell – if he was feeling forgiving about everything the raccoon had done to his colleagues.

And if he wasn’t feeling forgiving, if he decided to treat Sly like the thief that he was, then it was over.

You’re caught you’re caught you’re caught you’re dead –

His chest was burning.

Somehow, through a haze of panic, he reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled out his burner phone, shaking so hard that he nearly dropped the tiny thing. As if on autopilot, staring out at the empty deck and the ocean waves beyond, he found one of two saved numbers and pressed the dial button.

“Ringtail?” Carmelita’s answering voice was a shock to his system, but not nearly enough to break him out of his distress. He held the phone close and struggled to stop hyperventilating. “Is that you? What’s that sound?”

“It’s – it’s me,” he managed between shallow gulps of air. “I’m – it’s – there’s a – a problem, I can’t…”

“A problem?” The sharp uptick in her tone made him flinch. “What kind of problem? Did someone see you?”

seen seen seen caught caught caught dead dead dead

“Yes! Seen, I was seen, we have to get out of here, kāi zǒu, we need to –”

“Okay, whoa, first you need to calm down. I’m going to count to ten and I need you to breathe in and out along with me. Okay?”

He wanted to scream. They needed to leave immediately, not stop to make him feel better!

“Sly. I need you to listen to me. We can’t make a plan until you’ve stopped panicking.” Her words left no room for argument. “I’m starting now. One.”

“Inspector –”

“One.”

Sly promptly shut up and inhaled as deeply as he could.

“Two.”

He exhaled.

“Three.”

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. By the time she uttered “ten”, the raccoon felt like he could actually move his body again. The explosion of panic in his head had lessened to a storm he could almost weather by himself.

His chest still ached.

“How are you feeling, Ringtail?”

“…Better.” It shamed him to admit it. How stupid he must look now; how unreliable he was when just the threat of getting caught had him shattering into pieces.

Even if it was over a very justified threat, it was still absolutely pathetic.

“Good.” There was no scolding or even mocking him for his weakness. The fox was all business, like usual, and he was eternally grateful for it. “Now, you said something about someone seeing you?”

“Yeah…” He tried to swallow the dryness in his mouth. “One of Raleigh’s goons saw me and ran off, and I lost track of her. She’s probably already told him or is on her way to.”

“Shit. Okay, we’re going to have to expedite our process, then. I’m going to call for reinforcements and warn them about the storm. Hopefully, either they’ll be able to make it through regardless or we can find a way to shut it down before they come.”

She sounded stressed but not angry, which threw him for a loop. She should’ve been furious over the sudden change in plans. That he had probably put the entire ship on red alert any minute now and forced them to improvise and risk more lives was enough reason to tell him to get lost until she cleaned up his mess.

But she didn’t do that, and she wasn’t angry – as much as he could tell over a call, anyway – and he pressed the phone a little closer to his ear in silent, secret gratitude.

“I…I don’t think they’ll have to worry about the storm for too much longer,” he tentatively added, looking up at the giant blimp. “The reason I was caught was because I stumbled onto what I think was an engine room, and I sorta…destroyed a machine or two.”

Even now, he could see the artificial vortex beginning to abate. It was more gradual than he’d thought, but it was still a victory, and he knew for a fact that the ship itself was dead in the water for the time being.

“Oh, great job! You sure got a lot done in fifteen minutes. I found a way into the bow where I think they haul in wrecks straight into the ship itself, but this place is so big that I’m probably going to be here a while.”

The idea of the inspector trapped below deck when the frog sounded the alarm sent a spear of worry straight through his chest. “What about Raleigh knowing we’re here? Are you sure that’s safe?”

“Please, Ringtail, give me some credit.” Her voice was nothing but teasing. “If I can handle mob bosses and voodoo priestesses all by myself, I can handle however many lowlifes who are scavenging stolen parts. As long as you keep yourself safe and out of sight, which I know you can, I think we’ll be okay.”

She sounded so sure of it all; their new plan and their safety and his capabilities. The underlying stress was still present, he could hear it no matter how much she was probably trying not to let it seep through, but just the fact that she could stay so level-headed made him both envious and awed.

She was so much better than him, he was beginning to realize. So much better in so many ways. Maybe she had been right to try to refuse his help back in Mesa.

“Cào, I’m sorry,” he mumbled, not noticing the lapse as he was too busy wrestling with sudden, crippling inferiority. “I told you I’d be fine and then I screwed things up for you.”

“It’s…it’s fine, Sly. Mistakes happen and we plan accordingly.” There was a significant pause. “I have a question, though – what was that language you were speaking earlier?”

“What? What did I say?”

“When you were saying we had to leave, you said something I didn’t understand, and also right before you apologized just now – it sounded like…ta-ow?”

The butchering of the pronunciation made him wince before he even registered that he had just slipped into another language in front of her, and that she had caught it. Of course, she had; she caught everything.

“Oh, you heard that, huh?” He began walking, now filled with nervous energy on top of the inadequacy and desperately needing an outlet. “That was Mandarin. You probably shouldn’t repeat that last word out loud. It’s, uh, not very nice.”

“Is that the source of your accent?”

Sly’s eyebrows jumped up and he stopped in his tracks. “I have an accent?”

“You do. It’s very faint, but I noticed it the first time we met. I couldn’t place it.”

“…Huh.”

“You didn’t know?”

No, he very much did not. Another aspect of his identity, stripped away against his will by the monsters who had raised him. The raccoon’s stressed walking turned into an angry trot as he stopped pacing aimlessly and instead headed for a part of the ship that he knew for a fact had something he wanted.

“It’s not my first language,” he said curtly as he moved. The haze of bitterness kept him talking, too heated to stop himself from blurting out the words. “I lived in Kunlun as a kid for a while. Picked up enough to get by.”

Immediately he regretted it – if she was even half the detective he knew her to be, she’d start connecting dots as soon as they went looking for the Panda King. Maybe if he was lucky enough, he could convince her it was just a coincidence. Kunlun was a big area, after all. It was merely chance he had been in the same place that a crime lord had set up shop.

That had worked in Mesa City, hadn’t it?

“Anyway, sorry to give you a heart attack. I promise I’ll be more careful until your officer friends show up. Are we still meeting up again soon if nothing else changes?”

“Wh – yeah, we can do that.” His abrupt change in topic had clearly thrown her for a loop, but the fox recovered quickly like he knew she would. “Just look out for yourself, okay, Ringtail?”

“I will.”

Sly ended the call before he said anything else incriminating, and crammed his phone back in his pocket. His cane he gripped tightly in his right hand as he laid eyes on a particular set of doors belonging to a particular building on the left side of the deck.

They were on a real time crunch, now, and Raleigh probably already knew he was here. The time for subtlety was gone. If any of those incoming cops questioned him about the mess he was probably going to make, he was simply going to tell them that there had been a struggle, he had panicked, and he had feared for his life.

Carmelita would vouch for him. He was almost completely sure of that, now.

Raleigh’s “treasure chamber”, as he liked to call it, was a long ornate hallway that led to a large room filled with water. The walls were filled floor to ceiling with shelves full of stolen goods and decadent prizes. It was the frog’s tailored art gallery of ego while he immersed himself in his personal swimming pool. Sly had been in that room exactly once in his life, the very first time he had stepped foot on the ship – forced to get a good look at each and every item on display as Raleigh bragged about his vast collection and taunted the young kit with something he could never hope to achieve.

It had been both a dare and a threat that day. Daring him to prove his worth as a Cooper by stealing even a single item in that room, and threatening him with a fate worse than death if he so much as tried. Sly, barely thirteen and terrified out of his wits, had not been willing to risk his life to protect his self-worth, and the memory of the frog sneering down at him had stuck so strongly in his mind that he hadn’t ever worked up the courage to attempt it in all the years since.

There had been one other thing about the treasure chamber that had stayed with him, though, and that was the sight of a heavy iron safe on a raised platform in the very center of the pool. The raccoon had no doubt that safe was where Raleigh’s stolen pages of the Thievius Raccoonus were being held.

He pushed through the doors into the fancy hallway and almost immediately was forced to freeze, vanishing from sight just in time for a spotlight to illuminate the exact spot where he was standing. It swung away a few moments later, giving him just enough space to take a better breath and inch forward until it returned, and then he was still again. The thing seemed to be automated, sweeping back and forth down the length of the hall with no room for even the smallest of rats to skirt around the edge of its light.

Sly didn’t know whether being seen by the thing would trigger an alarm or shoot him down, but he wasn’t eager to find out. He moved cautiously, not daring to take any risks, and slowly worked his way down the hall that suddenly felt a lot longer than it looked. Just as he remembered, the walls were covered in shiny baubles and lavish wealth, but none of them caught his attention. None of them were worth anything to someone who was after something truly irreplaceable.

At the other end of the hallway, the room opened up into the swimming pool. It was untouched and seemingly unguarded, but the raccoon knew better than to underestimate the chief machinist of the Fiendish Five. He took the deepest breath he could manage and readied his reflexes as he crossed the threshold, and his foresight paid off when his movement triggered an entire wall of yellow lasers that barreled down on him too fast to blink.

The raccoon turned invisible just a hairs-breadth faster, unable to even wonder if it would work on lasers, and watched wide-eyed as it passed over him just as harmlessly as the spotlight had. He would have breathed a sigh of relief if it didn’t put his life in danger and stealthily continued without letting himself appear visible again. It was only when he reached the edge of the pool that he exhaled, and only because no other security measures had been triggered. He eyed the deep water, then looked past it to the safe that was still where he’d last remembered it, sitting innocently quite a ways away from where Sly was standing.

What the raccoon hadn’t remembered – and what he was very grateful for now – were the lily pads. A dozen or so large, round, green cushions floated on top of the water, looking a lot more stable than they had any right to. After a moment of hesitance, knowing there would be no one nearby to save him this time if he fell into the water again, he made a running leap onto the closest pad. It bounced a little under his weight but otherwise was unbothered, and Sly wasted no time aiming for the next one.

Hopping from lily pad to lily pad was not something he had pictured himself doing in his mission to put the book back together, but it was a far easier task to focus on than the security lasers, and he didn’t dare complain even in his head, afraid to jinx it. The only thing that would have made it even more interesting was if Carmelita was jumping alongside him. No doubt, she would have gotten a kick out of the unusual situation at the exact same time she would’ve taken it extremely seriously. It was one of her odd little contradictions that he found himself liking a lot.

As soon as he made it to the center platform, Sly got on one knee next to the safe and pressed his ear against the door, repeating the technique he had used in Muggshot’s office. Every subtle difference in sound seemed to echo through the cavernous room, which made his job feel easier at the same time it made him paranoid. None of Raleigh’s goons were allowed in here, but that didn’t mean their boss might not decide on an impromptu visit to ensure his treasure was safe when he learned Sly was causing problems.

The frog didn’t show up, thank god, and the raccoon heard the last number fall under his careful hand. His heart swelled with triumph as he opened the safe and began rummaging through it. There was an entire pile of centuries-old gold coins that were probably each worth a fortune, and a series of blueprints of the ship and the storm machine, but when Sly sifted beyond all that, he was shocked to find nothing else. Not a single page of the Thievius Raccoonus had been stashed here.

He had come all the way here only to turn up empty-handed.

Stress began creeping back up his spine, threatening to seep into his skull and into his mind, but he gritted his teeth and smothered it down with sheer willpower and Carmelita’s helpful breathing technique. The worst thing right now was for him to panic again. It wouldn’t help him, it wouldn’t help his partner, and it most certainly wouldn’t find what he was looking for.

With a growl that was teetering dangerously close to a whine, Sly closed the safe door and spun the dial a few times to reset it, then tapped the end of his cane against the concrete floor as he wracked his brain for any idea of where the missing pages might be. There were only so many places on a ship like this that were safe enough to keep such old, delicate artifacts, and although Raleigh was an arrogant windbag, he was not the kind of person to lose something priceless through a careless mistake.

But the only other place as feasibly secure enough as this room wasn’t technically part of the ship. It was floating several meters above the ship, and it never came down for anything. Anything, of course, except for a high-and-mighty frog deciding to grace his crew with his temporary presence before returning to his reclusive lair for weeks at a time.

Sly dissected the dilemma for a solid minute, trying and failing to think of a way to reach the storm machine while it was still in the air. Short of shooting himself out of one of the cannons along the outside railing – which he might have been tempted to do if it wasn’t going to draw the wrong kind of attention from his partner – there was really only one solution.

They’d have to bring the blimp down somehow.

His phone was already coming out of his pocket as he began his trek back towards the deck.

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A/N: It's honestly a miracle I got this chapter out on time. I was busy all week and I only had a simple outline for the entire chapter; pretty much wrote the whole thing from scratch today and yesterday. Hoo. Combine that with SlyFox week and I'm amazed I have any creative juices left in me.

But oh boy, not even ten minutes on the ship and things are already starting to go to shit! I hope Sly's reaction didn't feel too jarring - this is the first time he's fallen apart like this (at least while he was with Carmelita...) but I'd say he has very good reason for it. Luckily he can rely on her to be his rock, and he still won't let his stress get in the way of his goal.

Next week, we'll get to see our favorite Inspector's side of things! Thanks for reading!

#sly cooper #carmelita fox #fanfiction #the lines we cross

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perennialwitness · 2 years ago

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MANCINI'S SLEEPWORLD

I’m having trouble sleeping. It’s nothing new, I’ve never been great at getting rest. The cause is difficult to pin down. I’ve suffered insomnia in some form or another since I was young, though this most recent stretch has come on the heels of a diagnosis. After countless nights spent in motion, desperate contortion and gymnastics in attempts to find the sweet spot, I’ve become sloth-like during normal waking hours. My mother would tell you that I’m lazy, that if I just tried a little harder I could do a lot more. Part of me agrees with her and some days I feel superhuman when I accomplish more than three or four tasks. While the energy lasts I try to come up with ways to harness it. I scheme plans for the future, step-by step instructions on how to correct the course of my life. I do this while I wash every dish in the apartment. I play music loud enough to rattle my brain because I’ve discovered through trial and error that without it the duration of this feeling shortens by half. Bills are paid, fridge is stocked, laundry folded, I might even join a climbing gym. I text every person I think I’ve neglected in the time since my last up cycle, some reply, some don’t, I’m concerned about it, but impervious to the feeling in the moment and will lock it away until I’m down again to be dwelt upon like depression meal prep. These phases come and go quickly and without warning, I’ve learned that with the right combination of events and actions I can at times accidentally stumble my way into one. There are days I spend switching frantically between activities in search of a jump start. In actuality I can rarely force it, this is all done out of optimism, it is better to try and fail than not try at all when the alternative is this liminal state where at its darkest the only other solutions are to rekindle my old drug habits… fade away slowly, or kill myself and get it over with.

Every so often I decide to go for a late night drive, out of a need for fresh air more so than inspiration, but you never know. On these drives I find myself leaving the city, venturing out to the fringes where the roads are smooth and empty. I am looking for peace and the streets of Oakland are unpredictable past 9pm. I see the same signs the whole way out, repeated in various patterns along main streets and in plazas. Eventually small businesses are non-existent aside from the occasional nail salon or liquor store. Every space is familiar then, for miles of stroad the same names appearing again and again. Starbucks, McDonald’s, Shell, PetCo, Home Depot, Dominoes, Target, CVS, Safeway, Mancini’s Sleepworld. That last one, though just as frequently appearing as the rest, feels out of place. How many mattresses are being sold to warrant this number of stores? Definitely more than I expect, is what I’m thinking as I pass another electric blue sign post. The thought swirls and morphs in my head, soon it becomes my only thought, my eyes glaze over and I begin to drive on autopilot lost somewhere between now and later. At one point I convince myself that it must be a front, that inside of every Mancini’s Sleepworld there are drugs I can use to help solve my problem. It is somewhere between Pleasanton and Livermore when I see what feels like the eighth one and in a trance-like state I pull into the parking lot.

The engine idles while I sit eyeing my reflection in the glass. The outline of the low gas-mileage Japanese sedan fused with my silhouette, void-like it depicts my true appearance in the moment. I guess at what might be waiting for me on the other side. Trazodone, Lorazepam, Zolpedim, some other combination of molecules I haven’t yet heard of, and then I think I might want to see for myself. My seat belt unbuckles, my fingers search for the locks. It never occurs to me that the store may be closed, because when else would a shop that supposedly sells mattresses be open? The logic is loose, but enough. I’m not aware of myself as I get out of the car. There is movement, the sound of gravel crunching, it’s not until my hands grasp the door handle that I even realize what I am doing, the jerk as it resists my pull is what snaps my consciousness back into reality.

I’m aware of what has just occurred, it is normal, tunnel vision is a symptom of what ails me. They call it hyperfixation and it is both the key to my survival and what I believe will eventually be the source of my demise. I forget to eat and drink, I hold my piss for hours, agonize over details so minute their relevance is only perceptible to me, unable even if I wanted to break concentration. It is what keeps me tethered to the present, however tenuous the connection. I do not lack focus, I lack interest. Sooner or later everything, even these fixations, will seem pointless.

No longer under the spell I turn back to my car and am startled by the sudden appearance of a large man standing just outside of the passenger side door waving at me. He’s older, mid-forties I’d say, dressed as if he’d been out for happy hour and gotten carried away. His shirt untucked, tie loosened, even at a distance I can tell that he’s balding. He’s waving harder now that he realizes he’s got my attention and I stiffen at the sight of him. The keys are still in the ignition and the doors unlocked, if he wants he can easily jump in the car and take off before I can reach him.

“Hey!” he calls with his right arm extended above his head. “Are they closed?” I wave back, I don’t know why, emulating him just seems like the right thing to do.

“Yeah.” Now I’m walking towards him at a clenched yet casual pace, doing my best impersonation of someone who is unalarmed by the sudden appearance of a stranger. He waits patiently for me to reach him and then after a quick wipe on his pant leg shoves a thick calloused paw towards me.

“Gordon Jefferies, but everyone calls me Sticks.” I take his hand, he gives it a vigorous shake, then with his left he points over my shoulder. “Lookin’ for a mattress?” A single gold tooth, the third incisor, glints when he speaks.

“I— uh, my name is Malcolm.” He laughs with my hand still gripped in his. The laugh is deep, from his belly and the way he throws his head back makes him seem maniacal, possibly insane. The smell of whisky emanates off of him heating the space between us.

“Got a little ahead of myself there, sorry, I’ve had a few.” I tug a bit and he releases me. Still half apologizing he adds, “I’m only asking because I can get you a mattress, y’know if you really need one… or is it sleep you need?” I shake my head and take the opportunity to glance around the parking lot, it’s just the two of us. No witnesses. I wonder how he’d snuck up on me and then curse myself for getting so distracted.

“No, I’m okay. I was just checking to see if anyone was around.” He cocks an eyebrow, his voice suddenly serious.

“Why, are you gonna rob the place?” At that I sidestep toward the front of the car.

“It’s hard to explain— look, it was nice to meet you, man, but I gotta go.” I circle past the headlights without taking my eyes off of him, he follows my gaze but doesn’t move. It isn’t until I open the door that he responds, jolly again.

“Hey, I hear ya. Whatever happened to turning the lights out when you leave a place?” I nod and smile, sure that as long as I remain polite I’ll be able to avoid any trouble.

“Yeah, that’s just how it goes sometimes. Alright man well, I’ll see ya arou—-“

“You wouldn’t mind giving me a ride would you?” he says and all the air leaves my body. My instincts urge me to say, ‘no’. I should get into my car and drive away, but something else, something deeper, poses a question, Of course we know what’ll happen if you leave, what I want to know is What happens if you say, yes? and again I am consumed by possibility, consequence loses its meaning. Death at this point would be worse than never knowing.

“Sure,” I say to him and then I utter a phrase known to my generation only as a pre-curse for trouble in horror films, “where ya headed?” Sticks’s eyebrows rise in astonishment, he expected me to decline and I accept this as a sign that he can be trusted, at least for now.

Once we’re in the car angled toward the coast he tells me that he just needs to get as far as Alameda, ten minutes from my apartment in Downtown Oakland. Normally I would take the streets, meander my way back, kill time, but I hop on the freeway sure that the longer he is in my car the more danger I am potentially in. In the forty minutes it takes us to get back into the city we exchange only a handful of words. He asks about my job and I tell him that I work in bookkeeping for a law firm, this surprises him, he says I don’t look like the type and I agree. He is in sales, though when I ask what of his response is vague, “Oh, lots of things, whatever you need really.”

We arrive in Alameda after submerging momentarily to take the tunnels beneath the estuary and Sticks directs me to a hole-in-the-wall diner on the eastern side of the island, across from a halal corner store. He guides me in with his hand.

“Right up there, on the right, that’s the spot.” I pull up to the curb out front and put the car in park. He extends his hand again and I take it, with another exuberant shake he says, “Malcom, my man, you really saved my ass.” and as is custom I shrug it off.

“It was on the way, don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t give me that, you’re a good guy. Hey, why don’t I buy you a meal? Come on, at least have a coffee with me. You’re a coffee man, right?” Both of his hands now clasped over mine. I feel like I have no choice but to accept the offer.

The diner is expansive, reeking of americana and a forgotten culture of exploration and migration that shaped the early United States. License plates and steering wheels and exhaust pipes line the walls. The space stretches back past the bar where it opens into rows of booth seating. Aside from us the only other patrons are two bikers in matching leather vests mulling over toast as they watch sports highlights on the TV mounted above the bar. Their patches read “Dragons”. A large illuminated tank against the far wall is filled with exotic fish who peer at us through the glass. Our server, a boy in his late teens, follows us to our seats, eager to take our orders and get back to whatever he’d been doing before we arrived. Sticks orders us both coffee as well as the corned-beef hash special for himself.

“So, what do you do?” he’s saying to me as he fusses with the seal on a package of single-use creamer. For a moment I’m suddenly concerned about his memory, we’d already had this conversation in the car. I go to remind him of this, but before I can get a word out he clarifies. “I mean, what do you really do, y’know if you didn’t have to pay the bills?” No one has ever asked me this before, but I have spent my entire adult life thinking of the answer.

“Oh, well I write. Nothing published or anything, but I’ve always done it. If I had the time I’d probably do more of it, get better, maybe put something out for once.” The coffee is burnt, Sticks doesn’t seem to mind though. He takes large scalding gulps from his mug. I figure he’s the type who’s only in it for the caffeine, he’d drink anything as long as he gets his fix.

“What do you write?”

“I’ve dabbled in prose, screenwriting, some poetry here and there.” He nods at that last bit as if to say that I definitely look like someone who writes poetry, sensitive, detached, observant. I choose to take it as a compliment.

“Any interest in journalism? Interviews and such?”

“I mean sure I’ve considered it, but I’ve never really had the luxury of choice. Writers don’t make much money and I don’t have rich parents or anything so,” I let it drag, following my dreams has never really been an option and what-ifs only serve as fuel for my depression.

“Did you go to college?”

“No.” He frowns then with both of his massive hands wrapped around the mug, I can tell a picture has begun to form in his mind of what my life has possibly entailed. I drop his gaze then out of what I think is shame and we sit for a moment as he analyzes me.

“Well, if you’re interested I’ve got a proposition for you,” he says in an unexpectedly cheerful tone.

“Like a job?” I find this hard to believe by the state of him, what could some drunk salesman possibly offer? “I’m not really looking for anything part-time.”

“Oh no this would be a full time gig, it would require you to travel though and a bit of research, but you’d be writing.” His food arrives, causing him to sit up straight while our server sets his plates on the table. In the few seconds it takes Sticks is quiet, eyeing me for signs of interest. “You good with that? I’ll be covering your expenses of course, we’ll make sure you’re taken care of.” I’m thinking, Who is we? it’s all over my face, but he’s focused on his food now. Elbows on the table supporting the weight of his torso he shovels a forkload of potatoes and eggs into his mouth and doesn't wait to swallow before speaking again. “I know this feels sudden, it is and you don’t have to say anything now, but the job is yours if you want it.”

I’m stunned, the alarm bells are ringing again. It’s all too convenient. I have no idea who this person is, nor he me so why even suggest this? Because I gave him a ride? I can’t believe it. Still I’m intrigued, there’s no need to reject him outright, may as well suss the situation a bit.

“You haven’t exactly told me what I’d be doing.” His eyebrows jump upward and he coughs, nearly choking on his food.

“You’re right about that, there I go again getting ahead of myself.” He raises a finger and then with his other hand wipes at his mouth with a napkin. “Let me ask you something, you’ve heard of NYX I assume?”

“Yeah man, who hasn’t?”

“Ever try it?”

“Before my time, it disappeared when I was a kid.” He nods, as if for the first time actually processing my age in relation to his own.

“Well, believe it or not that actually makes you more suited for this. It’s something you oughta know.” As if I didn’t know, as if I don’t live in the wake of it.

“So you want me to research the Languor?” He takes a couple of bites and then leans back with a groan, a pinky finger rises instinctively toward the gold tooth for a quick polish. The words he says next are at a low baritone, nearly a growl.

“The Languor, for what it was to you, has already been done and I think I’m ready to put it behind me. There’s something I need before I can do that, you see...” There is sweat building at his brow, possibly from all the meat he’d just consumed. “This disease, this languor, it didn’t always stick. Y’know originally they thought that if it got ya, it got ya. There’s no coming back and that’s the tragedy of the thing ain’t it? We’ve sold that story ta shit, but here’s the thing, I’ve done my research here and there are at least fifty living people who have recovered fully with no lingering symptoms. I want you to find them, interview them, get me their stories.”

“Why me? You don’t even know if I can actually write.” He huffs.

“Doesn’t really matter as long as you take decent enough notes and record the interviews— That doesn’t mean don’t write the thing, but if we need to punch it up we can. I’m offering you an opportunity to try here.” Against my better judgment I start to believe him.

“And I can write it however I want? Full creative control?”

“Go crazy, just get me something usable.” With another groan he shifts his weight reaching into his back pocket to withdraw a phone. He taps at the screen a few times and I feel the buzz in my lap. “That’s my info, I’ll have a contract drawn up just call me in a couple days with your answer, sound good?”

#nyx #nostalgia #slice of life #black literature #black art #creative writing #creatives #anxiety #authors #short story #writeblr #writers of tumblr #writing community #writing

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fmp1liamberry · 2 years ago

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Ladybug - Banana Centipede Sheet

I drew my first centipede with a graphite mechanical pencil, It was off this reference image I found on Pinterest. I liked how it looked and it took a while to get the shape I wanted but it ended up turning out really great and I am really happy with the result. But after I added yellow because it was my favourite colour, also it was the colour of bananas which is what the bug had inside of it instead of guts.

After colouring my centipede yellow I started drawing another one, a long one, I started with a yellow silhouette to work off of because I liked the look of the solid colour on the other centipede but did not like how the graphite was streaking into the colour.

I also outlined it with orange instead of a pencil because I liked the idea of outlining it with the next colour on the colour wheel.

I then added the dots with the orange and eventually added some graphite pencil on the drawing. I was pretty pleased with how it looked. I also went over the shading with a dark brown, a similar colour to orange and very complimentary, to make it look more soft. I am very pleased with it.

I started drawing on the curved centipede again and adding the same details such as the shading from the previous centipede I did and the same dots, I also eventually started colouring in the area around the centipede to frame it on the age. I used the same marker brand and type I ad used for the colouring but I used the chilled ed to cover more area. The reason I did this was because I thought it would make the centipede stand out a lot more on the page and I thought it would just look good in general and it does so I am very pleased with the result.

As you can see I eventually added more grey but the pen ran out so I stopped it there, I also added ladybugs to fill out the empty spaces around the centipedes. I like the splash of orange and pinky it really looks good against the grey an its the oranges.

My friend Western drew a centipede himself, looks really good in my opinion so detailed and so recognisable. It is truly better than anything I could ever make, the hight of design and art in general.

I then started drawing a ladybug to tie in with the little silly ones I drew, I drew it with these pink wings peeking out from under the lady bug's shell and I think it looks really cute. The progress just started with colour to block in where I wanted certain limbs of the ladybug I used a brown so that you could see the legs through the pin wing and I a pretty pleased with the result of that. I also used red to outline the wing sections.

This is the finished ladybug and I think it looks really cool. I'm happy I drew it as it will be the apple part of my selection of fruits. I didn't gt to do an inside of the ladybug because of the lack of time but I will work on that sheet ore later.

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theinnerunderrain · 2 years ago

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The Doctor's Envy [Yan!Dottore x Saintess!Reader]

Warnings: Yandere themes, religious themes, non-consensual touching, mentions of experiments and medical interests, brief description of blood and injury.

Word count: 1.8k+

“This is always the way envy works. It never starts with the object of envy. It starts with a shake of the fist at the skies, a frustration with the gods, a deep feeling of injustice. Why has God not given me what I want, I need, I deserve?" Genesis 4:1-16

Dottore never regarded himself as being an avid devotee towards the Deities, or at least not the benevolent Gods that worshippers commonly describe in an attempt to entice someone to embrace their small religious community, a way to manipulate and maneuver their new little member. It's even laughable considering they operated almost like an occult, simply a high-end one with the support of the Tsaritsa.

If God truly cared for his subjects, then why was he willing to abandon them in the most difficult times of their lives? Through wars and battles, God never blinked at the eye of those who died within the field. Not even once at the innocent lives lost within the chaos.

Yet, he couldn't resist but just let himself meander aimlessly through the garden of the cathedral, wondering if Pantalone was the one in charge of budgeting such a lavish courtyard. He was to blame for his blunder since he was curious and desired to see the Saintess that Capitano passionately adored. Indulging in such meaningless philosophy and romanticising a creature other than himself, he intended to demonstrate to himself that Capitano was nothing more than a simple fool. Then again, he supposed all the Harbingers were nothing but babbling fouls that were ambitious for the wrong paths. But perhaps it's better to dream than rather not dream at all.

Yet, he was disproved by his own convictions.

Dottore had only seen a brief glimpse of the enormous portrait of you that was displayed in the Tsaritsa palace and had only overheard such brief descriptions of your beauty. Many would describe you as a beautiful entity, capable of even out shining God's favourite angel, although he wouldn't be surprised if God's true treasure was actually you.

But he instantly recognized that it was you who was lounging on the marble bench and basking in the warm sunlight. He shifted against the column, obscuring his silhouette from your hindsight. Your eyes were sealed, your eyelids were veiled in thick lashes, and your lips were stained with a reddish colour, curved into a small smile. He would presume that you were praying since your gloved fingers were clasped together, positioned right under your chin.

Even though Dottore has inevitably never encountered an angel in person, he was convinced that you would be a true representation of a heavenly deity, an angel in disguise that freely roams the surface of the earth.

Your physique was so brilliant and lovely that he swore he could have seen white light emanating from it, surrounding the air around you with divine power.

When Capitano's voice could be heard pleading with you to return because it was growing late, his astonishment was swiftly dispelled. It was just five minutes after eight; even a child would grumble about just how early it was, so perhaps the Captain was indeed insane. And yet, seeming unworried, you did nothing but get up from your bench and make your way to the cathedral's entrance.

Such a subservient creature.

Dottore felt a sense of resentment toward the rest of his co-workers for attaining something he wanted but had yet to achieve. Despite the fact that he had only received a brief glance of you, he was aware of how much he desired you.

No, maybe desire isn't the right choice of word.

He was merely curious, an aching curiosity to see what the color of your blood may be. Or if your body was truly constructed of internal organs like the rest of humanity, or if your insides were nothing but a hollowed shell similar to that of the Balladeer's?

His desire to comprehend your truths was being swallowed by the hunger that was gradually gnawing away at his mind. The aching to strap you down onto an examination table, and slowly unravel all of your mystery.

He was eager to know what makes you squirm.

He longed to see the Divine nature of your capabilities, wanted to know how exactly you were able to heal with some precise control.

He desire to study them all.

Your voice.

Your skin.

Your hair.

All of you.

The white dove sprawled still upon the grass, its wings frantically fluttering in a desperate attempt to breathe. One of its wings was punctured by a sharp arrow that ripped through its flesh severely enough for the arrow to be visible on the other side of the flap. Its wound erupted with blood, staining its white feather red.

You nearly acknowledged the bird was beautiful despite its torturous demeanor. It reminded you of a fallen anger that has been shot down by an archer, now lying helplessly within the field of baffle. The palms of your hands smack against each other, jolting you out of your reverie and reminding you that treating the bird is your primary concern. You can't blindly gawk at it and expect it to heal itself.

"I'm sorry about this."

You whispered before extracting the arrow from its wings, leading it to howl in anguish. You slowly extended your hands in front of you, drawing them close to the bird. You shut your ears and muttered a few silent prayers before directing the elemental power to flow through your palm, a brilliant blue light shining as the bird's wound started to mend. The bird's injured wing started to flap after you withdrew your hand from it. This time, relief overcame the agony. You carefully picked up the bird, lifted it into the air, and threw it, marveling as it soared into the air, flapping its wings with obvious excitement.

"The bird was already condemned to perish, why bother saving it?"

Startled, you spun around at the new source of voice, catching a glimpse of a rather tall man with blue hair and a large beak mask that concealed his pale face. The only visible portion of his face were his lips, pressed in a small smile as if he had been observing you for quite some time.

You've certainly never seen him before.

"All lives are precious. We must feel obligated to help those in need even if their expiry date is near."

As you spoke, you raised yourself off the ground and brushed your hands against your knees in an attempt to wipe off the dirt. Your white dress is encrusted with dirt, and you fully anticipate Capitano giving you a heavy scolding when you return sporting a dirty dress after all the effort the Sisters went through to mend together a dress.

"Though I beg to differ, that is a perspective worth considering."

As he neared, you could glimpse more of the man's mask after he had finished responding and had begun to steadily approach you. He was wearing a mask that was somewhat reminiscent of the plague doctors you may well have read about in history books. Perhaps seeing him was an omnious sign to your fate. Although within one of his palms, he held a bow, a hunting bow it seemed. Hunting was prominent within the Cathedral's grounds. You couldn't help it but wonder if the man was the sole reason for the bird's injury.

It was a rather foreboding treat to the eyes, you couldn't even peer into his eyes since they were strictly concealed.

"On top of that, it appeared as though you were having a blast peering at the bloodied bird."

Your hands shot up to your face as soon as he said those words, your fingers stroking your lips to see if you were actually grinning, but your lips were merely curved in a rather neutral stance. Were you really smiling?

"Ah, my apologies. I was simply making a bad joke."

The man laughs at your terrified expression, thoroughly enjoying the way your face briefly altered to one of terror before it was immediately covered up by that facade you always wore. It was rather fascinating to see you switch up so fast, and he even wondered if your personality had always been like that. Or if it was a result of your journey within the capital?

A calm, smiling expression.

You cough somewhat uncomfortably, trying to cover up your prior failure at self-retention. Dottore wasn't exaggerating when he stated to have seen the way your lips flickered into a faint smile as you gazed at the bird, even though it seemed to be an accidental reflex. He didn't want to utterly humiliate you at the first meeting, so he opted to remain silent. Nevertheless, given your status as a Saintess, it was a somewhat surprising attitude. It was surprising to see that a Saintess like yourself has a few loose screws within your head , although you don't seem to be aware of it.

He didn't expect you to be somewhat twisted, perhaps it's a change of characteristics due to your time spent within the capital? Or was it Capitano's torment? Was it the effect of lingering around Columbina? Perhaps even Childe?

He wouldn't be so surprised considering how humans change so fast, like a river streaming down a cliff, unconscious but still a change. He supposed that your personality had to eventually shift if your need for survival was prominent.

"What brings you here today, Doctor?"

Ah, so you can guess that he works in that field; you probably picked it up from his mask.

What an observant being.

Dottore leans into you unexpectedly as he watches you stagger back in disbelief at his sudden action. He stretched out to grasp a thread of your hair with gloved hands, fumbling with the tiny hairs as if he were attempting to feel their general texture, rather soft he must admit. Dottore kissed a small section of your hair before you had a chance to react and push his hands away. You could then see his long tongue quickly swoop through his lips and as if to taste a small portion of your hair, leaving a small stain of saliva to stick to your hair. With a smear of blossom crimson on your cheeks, you hurriedly slammed your hands into his chest and shoved him aside leading him to tumble back, but not enough to hit the ground or anything.

How endearing.

A tiny scowl formed on your lips, and you inhaled deeply as the façade you once maintained started to disappear from your face as fury started to take over. His laughter simply made you angrier, and you turned to leave when you overheard it, ready to report him to Capitano, but his voice managed to stop you.

"I apologise, my dear. Actually, I'm here to assist you with a physical examination, by the order of the Tsaritsa."

A medical examination? Given that everyone was aware of the conflicts between spiritual healing and scientific medicine, that doesn't seem like it would be very courteous of the Tsaritsa. They are both incredibly distinct from one another and very proud of their individual accomplishments. You've never thought a doctor from that sort of sanction would even step foot within the cathedral unless they absolutely had to.

The person standing in front of you, however, disproves that assertion given that he was inside the Cathedral and was conversing with a prominent figure within its walls. He had a rather careless attitude as it seems like he doesn't care much for the Cathedral's rules or the respect for one's privacy.

"I'll now give my formal introduction."

He remarked, extending his hand between the two of you, gesturing for you to take it. You hesitated accepting it because you didn't want any involvement with this strange man. Your regular schooling at the cathedral, though, compels you to take his hands and press your palm into his, before he raises them to his brow. He clasped your hands as though he were praying, and you had a feeling that it wasn't something he did on a daily basis. As if he was mocking your entire being, laughing at your pitiful soul. Although his eyes were concealed by the mask, you could practically feel them scorching through the piece of metal, burning into your skull as he peers up at you with a mischievous smile.

"To the Fatui Harbingers, I am referred to as il Dottore, the doctor. I consider it a privilege to become acquainted with you."

Jealousy is both reasonable and belongs to reasonable men, while envy is base and belongs to the base, for the one makes himself get good things by jealousy, while the other does not allow his neighbour to have them through envy (Aristotle).

#yandere #yandere genshin au #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #dottore #yandere dottore #the doctor #yandere genshin imagines #yandere genshin impact x reader #gensgin impact #yandere x reader #yandere doctor #saintess

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riniackerman · 3 years ago

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Very curvy kinda shy, fem reader, x tanjiro pick your own kinks!! I just want tanjiro to make you feel good while still being a dom 😏 thanks!! ly rini <3 -🧿

PARAMOUR - # KAMADO TANJIRO

╰ tanjiro and you having sex for the first time, that's it.

author's note. nonnie i wasn’t going to accept any requests because some of yall sent when my requests were closed :( BUT it’s been a hot minute since you sent asks and its uuuu soooo here! <3 and i lob u too!!

pairing. aged up!virgin!kamado tanjiro x virgin!fem!reader

content warnings. +18 MDNI. virgin sex, breeding, reader is called angel

word count. 1.1k

+ not beta read or edited cuz im lazy like that </3 excuse my grammar mistakes and spellings if there are

he grazed his lips down to the length of your neck as he whispered your name. there’s something addictive about him saying your name in a whispered moan over and over like a chant, like magic. tanjiro always had a thought of how lucky men he was to deserve a girl likes you and he is thanking, blessing whoever sent you to his life.

it’s that easy to have yourself embraced into tanjiro’s body, surrendering yourself to the touch you’ve been curious about, you’ve been craving for a long time. and once his fingers relaxed on the tender flesh of your core, you gasp, feeling the butterflies dancing inside your stomach as tanjiro circled your stomach with his thumb.

tanjiro could hear the huff of the air you let out as you tilted your neck, giving him more access to your skin. he slowly leans towards you, his arm enveloping your waist as he slightly bites and sucks on your flesh, leaving tender to redden marks along with it.

you swallow thickly, very aware of the way tanjiro snaked into your skirt, his rough palm brushing over your bare thighs, his lips glued to the shell of your ear, nibbling on it. “i want more of you… need it” he pleads as he teases the very inner thigh of yours with his rough finger pads.

it’s so pleasing to know that you have the whole world in your hands when you looked up at tanjiro with your big doe eyes. there was an adorable little pout on your lips as he ran his hand up your thighs. “do you think i’m pretty tanjiro?” you whisper.

tanjiro pulled your body away from him to give you the warm smile you loved and adored. he then left a small pepper kiss on your forehead. “of course angel, you’re so perfect” he replies.

you two are being tipsy while touching each other. feeling each other’s skin on the lips, lightly nibbling, leaving a small trail of marks. tanjiro’s hands are all over you, moving them weakly in place as if he’s touching a flower, while he spouts sluggish words which was the cutest thing ever. both of your faces flustered and filled with adoration.

“w-wait!” you squeal as tanjiro guides your hand to his crotch, resting your soft hands on his dick print. “feel that angel? ‘ts for you. only you” he whispers, giving you another loving kiss before you worked on his belt, slowly, taking time to cherish every bit of this moment.

you seal your eyes closed when you felt tanjiro’s warm dick developing your palm. “it’s okay, i’m not gonna hurt you” tanjiro says, even though your eyes were closed you could see his warm smile. “you ready?” he asks, cupping your cheek as he pulled you on top of his legs.

“t-tanjiro” you whimper at his warm cock touching your cold flesh. “you’re so w-wet” he adds, teasing your clit to let the slick out, giving him easier access to your tight, virgin cunt. “you can put it in…” you shyly whisper as you see a silhouette of his hand on the base of his cock, guiding to your entrance.

“h-hah [name] you feel so good-” tanjiro moans your name, too dazed out to call you angel, after all he was a virgin too. he lets soft moans and whimpers from his lips at the new sensation he is feeling.

tanjiro hugs you when he saw the stream of your tears streaming down your flushed cheeks. “shhhh angel it’s okay ‘m still here” he says, trying his best to comfort you even though this is his first time. “i… i love you tanjiro” you whimper, your nails clenching on his shoulder as you feel his cock still twitching against your walls.

“do you think you can move?” despite your walls were clenching hard around him, he never failed to comfort you and was willing to wait for you until you were relaxed, when his hips are desperate to roll and thrust. “y-yes” you answer. he lets you ride it slowly, both of your lips pressed together before he whispers into your ear.

“pleasepleaseplease” you chanted, slapping a hand over your own mouth as you can no longer hold back the high-pitched moan trying to escape from your lips. you’re shaking in his hold, trembling as you let the blinding high flood over your body, eyes rolling back, hand falling from your lips as you relaxed them on his shoulder.

tanjiro’s eyes were glued to yours as he watched the tears silently spilling from the sensation, his fingers locked on your waist as you rolled your hips on his. it’s a loud cry that hurts your throat.

tanjiro wrapped his fingers around your throat when he is about to cum, trying to stop panting too much to see your pretty face when he was inside you, only letting the pleasure wash down his body, not caring if he passed out from lack of air, which will never happen. he watched your pretty eyes tearing up as you felt close too.

one last thrust and both of you relent. “‘m cumming!” you mewl before tanjiro’s tongue found yours quickly, sharing a deep kiss while both of you finally chased the climax. i love you was repeated from tanjiro while his cum filled your inside.

you’re too drunk on your blissful release, head lolling against his shoulder. “do you think you can do it again for me, angel?” he asks you low, gently, and sweetly. your head automatically noded to the accustomed tone.

“thank you angel” he whispers again as his rough fingers found your head, slowly stroking them as tanjiro’s thrust became sloppier, both of you reaching for the high for the second time.

tanjiro slid his finger inside your wet cunt, you hiccups made it clear how overly sensitive you were, but the smile on his face relaxed the tension on your back. once he inserted one more finger, he brought his face to yours for a kiss, his hands scissoring your tight cunt. “need more” he whispers.

taglist (open) ˚ · . @tendouscheese

↻ / ♡ are appreciated !

#from; 🧿 <3 #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #tanjiro #tanjiro kamado #tanjiro smut #tanjiro kamado smut #tanjiro x reader #tanjiro kamado x reader #tanjiro x you #tanjiro kamado x you #demon slayer smut #kimetsu no yaiba smut #kny smut

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tokoyamisstuff · 2 years ago

Text

Franken Stein / Reader: lucent (adj.) - softly bright or radiant

...in which you take care of him.

Warnings: Slight Angst, Dark Thoughts, Self-Loathing -Neglect and -Harm, Mentions of Mental Illness and Past Abuse, Blood Noteable: GN! Reader, Weapon! Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Made Up Background Story Words: ~4200

"Don't tell me you've been brooding around in the darkness all day!"

What a self-explanatory question, on second thought. Same procedure as every time.

Stein's lack of response made you sigh, a loud bang echoing through the wide room as you put down several bags on the nearest table. You flipped the lightswitch, however he seemed to be buried so deeply inside of whatever he was currently obsessing over that not even the bright lamps of the laboratory could bring him down to earth again.

The man itself was mutely sitting backwards on his rolling chair, his chin resting on the backrest being the only thing keeping him from collapsing right then and there.

"Hey there, Stein..." Your voice was barely above a whisper when you approached him, reluctantly waving a hand in front of his face to get him to notice you. "I'm back from shopping. Also brought the samples you wanted."

In that state it was never a good idea to startle him, so you were always hesistant to touch the prof in any way. Even being a death scythe yourself, god knows even one sole hit of his soul wavelenghts could send you flying through the wall. You had your own fair share of pain over the years, but you'd obviously avoid it if possible.

"Oh?" Finally, Stein managed to tear his eyes away from the screen he's been glued on for hours. "Welcome home."

The word 'home' made a small smile tug on your lips which he'd immediately mirror, but you knew him better than that. For a man known to be absent of most emotions, he had perfected the art of showing off completely normal expressions. His appearance was already enough to unsettle most people interacting with him, after all.

Behind that facade, however, his feelings had just dampened down to an amount he could not express properly - so you'd always fear what silent turmoil would be going on on the inside.

His eyes gave it away, how part of him still seemed to be far away from reality, and the dark circles underlining his lids painfully showed you the extend of his exhaustion.

You highly doubted that those past hours of your absence were even remotely productive if anything. It wasn't the first time during those many, many years that you had seen him like this - staring at a vast nothingness while trapped inside his own mind.

Franken was a man whose interest, let alone joy, could only rarely be evoked by anything else than this science only he himself could make sense of. Though he was a highly intelligent man - or maybe precisely because of it - he was very well aware of his own sensitivity to madness.

And on certain times, it was extraordinarily hard to keep in check.

"Come" you cooed, slightly rubbing circles on his back before taking ahold of his wrist. "I've already run you a bath. Gonna make us dinner in the meantime."

You just knew he hasn't spend a single second of the day worrying about his own well-being - but hey, that's what you are there for after all.

Sometimes Stein seemed like a literal zombie, at least one would question if he was actually alive when they could see him like this empty shell of a man. Wordlessly, he rose from his seat and let you drag him through the hallway, his huge silhouette following you closely.

As he watched you cheerfully tiptoe through this literal horror house, even humming a little melody, the thick haze laying heavy on his mind would finally lift.

Yes, having you around was certainly beneficial in some ways. At the beginning he would've never thought it possible, but you were able to remind him of that crucial fact time and time again.

Of course you were annoyingly naive and intrusive at times, but useful nonetheless. Helping him remember all those bothersome needs his body naturally has, for example. Stein tend to forget himself in his work more often than not, and that could become problematic for his progress.

How could one get proper research done if they for example simply forgot to sleep for several days? Certainly not useful for proper function of one's brain.

On particular bad days, he'd ignore all the signs his body was desperately showing until he'd eventually pass out - but you on the other hand were aware of every little hint his otherwise shut down physique was giving.

And even if he still thought selfcare to be a waste of time, you had the talent to make it somewhat bearable.

"You really need to stop smoking" you almost mocked, sheepishly trying to distract yourself from staring at the man that undressed himself in front of you just like that. "Your clothes smell like a damn ashtray."

"Mhh..." was all you got for an answer, but you didn't mind. It wasn't like you and Stein ever needed words to understand each other either way, so when he sank down into the bathtub you reluctantly you decided to give him some space.

Without you being close Franken would begin to zone out again, rigidly sitting in the hot water that was doing nothing to help him feel human again. His aimless eyes wandered through the room, catching shady silhouettes here and there, proof of his mind playing tricks on him.

"By the way" he heared you call out for him behind the half-opened door, and your voice was so soothing he both wanted it on tape and to cut out your vocal cords for examination. "Getting those samples wasn't particulary easy. You need to pay me better for those missions!"

"I'm not paying you at all..." It was the first full sentence that left his lips this evening, and while it's meaning may be unimportant it did not fail to make you laugh. "Yeah, well maybe that's the problem!"

Not even a real conversation later you had quickly prepared the ingredients so you could leave them cooking by itself, while checking on your troublesome partner in the meantime.

"You sure are a piece of work..." you muttered under your breath as you found him in front of a broken mirror, blood running down his knuckles. Your heart sank into your stomach at the forlorn soul in front of you, his eyes fixated in a dark corner of the ceiling. "So it's that bad again, huh?"

Stein could only do so much as nod in shame, face stoic and wiped clean from any emotion. Immediately you grabbed a towel and began rubbing the drippingly wet man, then handing him a pile of fresh clothes as if his current state wasn't the most disturbing view.

Well, you were more than used to it - and glad to help every single time.

You could've sworn to earn an apologetic look from Stein as he calmly watched you removed the splinters from his skin, finishing with a clean bandage. Not even the disinfectant would have him flinch, and you heared the doc scold you about worrying too much and that this wound was nothing.

Yeah, you knew very well that he was used to way worse.

So many times you had stopped him from losing himself completely, kept him from doing something he might regret later and defended him through everything you failed to prevent.

Many would be concerned for your safety, thought you to be a victim trapped by a manipulative mastermind. No one could possibly understand why someone as kind and righteous as you could stay with a literal monster like Franken Stein, but that was simply not how you saw him.

Having witnessed a great deal of his childhood was more than enough to see the man in a completely different light. How the things that had happened to Stein have shaped and distorted him so much that it had left that huge of an impact even in the present. It was also most likely the reason why while he exceled in many ways, other most basic things he had failed to mature in at all.

Both you and Stein were caught up together since even before both of you had developed a proper conscience, not even remembering what your old homes had been like - that's just how young the two of you had been when you were abducted from your respective homes.

Many talented children, both weapons and potential meisters had been torn out of their families back then to serve cruel research purposes...

...however asides from you and Stein none of the others had survived that year-long torment.

And you owed the fact that you were still alive and able to live a somewhat normal life to him alone: A boy just as young and innocent as you, who you had never met until a cruel fate had put you in this hell together.

And what he did for your sake you would never be able to make up for.

Most of the extraordinary cruel procedures he would volunteer for whenever possible just so you would be spared, leaving you feeling both eternally grateful and with a deep guilt.

As months had turned into years in this nightmarish facility, the agonizing pain they drilled into this young boy's mind and body slowly but steadily changed him. Stein's conscience and emotions seemed to have vanished almost completely, being replaced with an insane hostility towards everything and everyone but you.

They had tainted his innocent soul, and so you ultimatively had to endure seeing the only good thing in your terrible life being altered beyond recognition.

And when both of you were freed, his mind was already completely broken.

Some might say that this debt is what's driving you to stay at his side all this time, but there's more to it - something good and bright and hopeful, and you wanted to try and share it with him until this day and beyond.

Because despite all his past wrongdoings, you were able to see the huge progress he made over the years, that much you could proudly claim.

Franken Stein was not beyond help, that much you wholeheartedly wanted to believe.

"Can you-" Stein's voice cracked before he could finish his request, feeling as if the burden of madness constantly creeping to poison his mind was crushing him fully.

Your hand was already on his sternum as he spoke, his muscles tensing as you hovered above the place that covered the strained heart you still knew he possessed. "Yeah, of course."

A deep, relieved breath escaped his lungs as you channeled your soul's wavelenghts to match his, entering his mind and body with ease. Stein would finally relax, shoulders slacking and goosebumps raising under your tender caress.

Those soulwaves of yours felt like a warm embrace, encoating him completely as if to shield him from everything...including himself. Madness might forever be lurking somewhere in a deep, dark corner of his mind - but thanks to you, it would always be damned to be pushed back, never to break through.

Sometimes, even though part of him felt remorse for depending on you so muc, he thought like this feeling was the way it should be for him. As if you were made for him and him only. And in a certain way, it was true. Those people altering you so brutally back then had succeeded in doing so.

The perfect weapon for the most powerful master.

"Thank you" Stein spoke in an unusual cheerful tone, turning onto the large screw in his head like he always would to rearrange his thoughts. "I'm feeling way better already."

"Glad to hear that" you responded softly, your hand subconsciously finding it's way to his cheek. "How about we eat now?"

"Sorry, not hungry." Oh, you wanted to punch some rason into him for that statement, to scold him about the importance of nourishing his body and all the work you put into cooking...

...but instead you were rewarded with Stein firmly putting his arms around you.

The tall man's head rested on yours, silently indulging in the moment for a while with no intention to let you go again. "What would I do without you, Y/N?"

"Wha- you..." Flabbergasted, you found yourself unable to string words together, trying to object to no avail.

"I think I've stressed you out more than enough tonight" Stein declared gratefully before daring to peck a ghostly kiss into your hair, the spark in his eyes you had missed all night having returned - that alone was more than rewarding for you.

"You're never bothering me, Franky." You pouted at the accusation, the fact that this man never learns to accept it. "I like being with you. I like you!"

"So much you're forgetting to think of yourself sometimes." Franky snorted at the nickname, squeezing your shoulders ever so slightly. "Get some rest now. I'll clean up your mess in the kitchen, okay?"

"Talking as if you were not all helpless before" you mocked him, poking his chest. "Alright, but only if you promise to lie down afterwards as well!"

Stein rose his arms in defense, smirking cheekily though he knew better than to argue with his metaphorical caretaker. "If you insist."

Taking care of Stein was one of the more easier tasks in your opinion, might not even be real work to you. After all, you cherished spending your time with him, no matter in what way.

But damn, the man just knew how to push your buttons!

As soon as he'd feel like himself again, he always tended to become all dominant and smug, in huge contrast to his usual lost puppy self.

Almost like he had two faces, and you didn't know which one of them was the actual healthy one. Both had their concerning qualities...

...yet it was nothing compared to the few occasions you had to see the true extend of his madness, shall it devour him.

On your way to the bedroom the sensation of your heart hammering against your chest would not falter in the slightest. That brief hug had brought your blood to a boil, making you feel like your complete body was on fire.

Sometimes you wondered if Stein was simply messing with you, or if you might only be imagining things. Hard to tell while being completely oblivious about the depht of your own feelings as well.

And even though you knew his affection for you to be genuine, his complicated character together with his confusing manners made his actions ambiguous most of the time.

Still, after everything he had done for you already you never doubted how far his feelings for you would reach. Stein could be sweet and caring if he wanted to, and also oddly domestic.

Analysing the composition of your relationship didn't matter, though. You were content with how things were between the two of you, right?

It was already pitch black outside when you crawled into bed, eyes clinging to the stars as the only light source. Your mind was racing with questions you had asked yourself many times already, though you knew they would lead to unfullfilling dead ends.

Sleeping was an especially hard exercise for your traumatized self to perform, for nightmares surely weren't shaken off easily even after all the time that had passed.

Sometimes you wondered how you were able to live in this laboratory where simply everything would so painfully remind you of all you've been through.

The solution to all of this was easy of course, the answer was always him.

Only Stein was able to make you overcome your fears, his presence alone banishing the memories haunting you away. To you, he was somewhat of a tragic hero, even though he had become the very thing that had tormented you all your childhood: A ruthless scientist and immorale sadist at that.

Yet he had sworn to protect you and never even once broke that oath. Gave you a home you would always gladly return to, thus alone erasing all those plaqueing fractions of your past, replacing it with memories to hold dear.

Giving up on him was no option. No matter what anyone else might think, not even Stein himself could stop you from seeing the good in him. You'd always have faith in him finding his way - and no matter what path he might choose, you would follow.

Maybe you'd have sweet dreams for a change, you thought as the last thing present in your exhausted mind was the image of Stein's thankful smile towards you, hugging the sheets as you soundly drifted into a sweet slumber.

Several hours later and in a whole other room however, the professor was still desperately unable to find any rest.

It was a fight that would never stop to continue: An eternal battle with madness about who's gonna prevail over his soul. He tossed and turned, sheets feeling like sandpaper on his skin in contrast to the remembrance of your silky touch.

Your scent, the gentle waves your soul was radiating were simply everywhere....and it was driving him crazier than madness ever could, pulling on every last of his nerve strings.

Actually, Stein knew what to do to find relief. It was so simple yet also so much more harder than anything he had ever done.

Obtaining it was impossible. An equation not meant to be solved.

Not even a sociopathic freak like himself could deny it any longer, how his heart was yearning for you - breaching whenever you were out of his reach, only to lead insanity through the cracks.

Why weren't you able to see the abomination everyone else does? Why pity a man who has drifted as far away from a victim as one could be? He was mutilated and instable, a constant burden and threat to anyone around him - especially you.

Stein was giving it his utmost to fill the emptiness of this unrequited love with his research, though not even that would be able to keep his madness in check anymore.

For your sake, he was always trying to become a better man. A dream never to come true, for he could not get out of his own skin.

Having you around was already more than enough, a privilege he stopped deserving a long time ago.

It would be selfish to demand more.

"Huh?"

As soon as he was able to focus again, Stein found himself in the middle of your room. Apparently the delusional part of him had taken advantage and rushed towards you before he even realized.

Gladly, at least you haven't woken up to notice him yet.

He cursed internally, fists clenching as he tried to leave instead of giving in to the inevitable pull he felt towards you. Fighting the urge to soothe that ache he had sucessfully suppressed for so long already.

Easier said than done, for he wasn't alone in his own head...so many voices and they were all screaming your name.

Stein was rooted on spot as his glare bored holes into you, fingernails digging deep enough into his own flesh to draw blood as he watched your chest slightly have with every breath. You looked magnificent even while sleeping, like a piece of art that wasn't meant to be tainted by touch. Your soul, he could perceive it as clearly as daylight and it was just as bright.

But as much adoration as he held for you, there were always two sides of a coin.

More often than not he felt a dark envy for being able to preserve your humanity even through everything. He believed you to be stronger than him, knew himself to be lacking something from the very start - maybe ever since he was born.

Or maybe you were possessing a unique trait, something that made you different in the way you could pull even someone as wicked as him towards the light.

Vivid scenarios began flashing in front of his inner eye, tempting him to still his curiosity by force.

Of course, that was what he had always been. Deep down he was a beast, and you knew it - that's what they had turned him into. A homicidal maniac.

The fact that you were always there for him despite the risks could only mean you wouldn't mind if he eventually fulfilled his desire like you had seen so many times before, or doesn't it?

It could only be that way. You want him to hurt you, maybe die by his hands even.

Yes, the narcotic would be quickly prepared, and then he would dissect his obsession with you away. If he could only to find out what makes you so special, then he could finally erase and overcome this weak spot for you.

Stein's eyes widened as you turned around at that moment, feeling caught in the act even though you were still soundly asleep. He was rooted on spot, eyes fixated on the huge unsighty scar on your left abdomen you had revealed as you kicked away the blanket.

In opposite to his initial plan, his insides churned at the sight. The remembrance of the scar's origin made his heart drop to his stomach, as if to be burned by black bile.

Due to his rather disturbing hobbies he was used to see massive amounts of blood without it evoking any emotional reaction, and more often than not he was being the one responsible for it in the first place....

...but the memory of your bleeding out self lying in his arms made him feel sick to the core.

You had been severly injured after a fight back when both of you had been pupils at DWMA - all because you had tried shielding him with your own body. Even in his adolescence the young man had already primed in his knowledge about the human body, so closing a wound like this was nothing to him...

...and yet he didn't.

Smart girl, he thought and though he was not one to cry easily, his eyes started to water for the first time in what felt like decades. You had hidden that scar away from him intentionally, fearing what would become out of him if he was to remember.

A faint scream echoed in his head, mixing together with his own crazy laugh - becoming louder and louder as if to taunt him for what he had done. Because instead of stitching you together as he was supposed to, the possibility of your imminent death had made him snap.

Stein had hurt you back then, he was sure of it.

"Hey, Franky..."

The man froze in shock at you being awake, but before he could rush out you took a hold of his hand and immediately led it to the scar - he was an open book to you, after all. "I know what you're brooding about...it's alright."

"Y/N, I- back then..." he gulped harshly, only able to watch in awe at how content you smiled at him. It just wasn't logical, how much you trusted him. "Did I-"

"No, you didn't."

Something in his eyes, this intense vulnerability gave it away that he would not belive you in the slightest. He reluctantly let his fingers glide over the terribly healed scar, clenching his jaw in anger. No way he had treated it.

"It's true you went berserk back then" you chuckled awkwardly, yawning sleepily as if this was no serious matter. "Kinda scared me, to be honest."

Stein retracted his hand, facing the ground with an unreadable expression. If only you could read his thoughts you wished, or maybe it was better that you can't. There was a reason his mind chose to block out certain things.

"I've never seen someone singlehandedly defeat so many enemies without their weapon." That was sugarcoating to be honest, he literally obliterated them. Usually, you rather chose not thinking about that day too much, wanting to forget ever having seen him that way. It simply hurt too much. "You didn't even stop to tear them apart even after they died, until-"

"...I heared you scream."

"Yeah." Stein looked at you in disbelief as you tugged on the collar of his labcoat, effectively bringing the man crouching in front of your bed to fall. Not that he would stuggle all that much anyway. "You took revenge and came back. All just for me."

Even in this state of madness Stein wasn't able to even lay a finger on you back then, yet sadly he was also mentally in no condition to treat your wounds nonetheless.

"Our past doesn't define us" you whispered confidently, putting the blanket over the two of you. "Neither does your madness. You don't need to be fixed, or shunned, or punished. Just be yourself, that's perfect for me."

Cupping his cheeks between your palms, you felt Stein pressing your whole body against him as if he feared you to disappear if he was to ever let go.

How could it be that you've seen him at his worst, and could still always look at him with that emotion no one else had ever directed towards him?

This was simply too good to be true. Maybe his mind was leading him on him again, showing him what he desired most just to torture him with taking it away-

"I love you, Stein."

Before he could object, that confession would be sealed with a kiss, covering his slight agape mouth with your lips...

...and eventually he allowed himself to indulge in that sensation, closing his eyes as he reciprocated your gift.

You made sure to peck another, more gentle kiss onto his lips, forehead, collarbone, before an overchallenged Stein turned you around and clung onto your back.

"It's okay. You don't have to say anything."

Franken's face was buried in your neck, heavy breaths evening out against your skin. "I think I'll accept the teaching job at the DMWA."

"Really?" That sure was a sudden change of topic, but this way probably came more natural to him than to actually talk about what he was feeling. "That sounds nice. You actually seem to have taken a liking to those kids, huh?"

"They kinda remind me of us back then." You snickered at the thought. "God, I sure hope not. We were awful teenagers."

"Just the two of us against the rest of the world..." Stein mumbled against your skin, his soft snore already entering your ear as you added "That never changed."

Tonight, the two of you had found peace within each other.

#soul eater #dr. stein #dr. franken stein #dr. stein / reader #franken stein / reader #dr. franken stein / reader #self insert

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prince-les · 2 years ago

Text

I'm processing Season of Shattering oh my god this is a whole rollercoaster to go through so here we go.

Warning!! Spoiler for Season of Shattering first quest:

The whole experience was devastating, exciting, terrifying and lovely right from the top:

THESE TWO???? Absolutely stunning and terrifying. At first when entering the game, it took me and my friends a good.. 30 minutes, trying to find where the quest is happening. I guess the instructions weren't clear.

We kinda went back and forth from Prairie to Wasteland trying to look for the fallen star. We managed to find it later though after doing some online research. But first, this seasonal quest area;

It's absolutely breathtaking?? It's unfortunate that we don't seem to be getting any new emotes or spirit this season but my God those statues? Those are beautiful and terrifying. And the fact that there are 'light' and 'dark' makes it so much more cooler.

With the light statue you can tell that it's made out of mantas and jellyfish, but with the dark one it's kinda.. I'm still trying to figure it out rn. It's obviously a krill but I can't really tell what's the black sticks that are sticking out from the ground next to it. It could be another krill but, I'm not sure yet.

——

MOVING ON IS THE SEASONAL QUEST THEMSELVES!!! BY GOD THAT WAS INTENSE!!!

Okay so we finally found where the quest took place. We were there a bit early so we were just kinda vibing around.

What tip me off guard at first is the music. The God damn music. You know that whole time the beat was getting faster by each second is like that one feeling of "Why is there a boss music?" BUT IT GETS LOUDER and it makes you just go anxious as to what to come.

Now unfortunately I didn't take any pictures of the meteor.. Falling star, thing. Mainly because I was caught off guard, yet again, I was kinda distracted by the music tbh but that's no excuse.

My friend told me that we wait for the star to fall and just when I ask "Fall? We're waiting for the thing to FALL?" the entire map just shook and the star just fell.

Now we okay footage of all three of us dying to a trash can sized crabs for 10 minutes trying to figure out what the hell is going on and why do we keep dying to cRABS. The red rocks are too god damn op I swear.

Also that added detail where there's blue rocks on you when you're out of light? The revive beacon when there's someone down in your area (this works even with stranger, and I believe this will work outside of quest? I think it's neat if you were able to tell when someone is in need of help nearby even if it's stranger).

And lastly the ending. So this one is going to lean more on me trying to decipher what that whole thing was:

So after you finished recollecting the memories in the last part, there's a silhouette of light crab in the middle of where the 'main' red rock was, I have a believe that the crab spirit was trapped in there in Eden, which are getting spat out and thrown to Forgotten Ark.

I also believe that because this 'main' red rock contain memories of the crab, which are corrupted, is why all the crab in the area were EXTREMELY aggressive with red rocks on their shell.

So the timeline here is that there are corrupted Leader Crab inside the main red rock, trapped, with its pack (that are also corrupted) circling the area.

After we free them by melting away the darkness (like we always do), the Leader Crab memory was returned and all the aggressive crab poofed, and we then asked whether we want to relieve the memory or not.

So while we're not relieving any spirit memory, we're kinda relieving the creatures memory. Which shows this.. Absolutely silent, breathtaking yet grim memory.

Now I don't know why it's jellyfish. We relieved the memory of a crab, right? So why are we seeing husks of jellyfishes in the memory?

Well this is the Crab's afterlife.

The only other place where jellyfish are 'mandatory' in is when you're flying towards Orbit. What if in the game, jellyfish is a representation of.. I don't know, the protector or guardian who guides you to the afterlife?

Now I don't really know because most of these are word vomit from my excitement but I'm currently absolutely scared.

Because if the memory we relieved was a Crab's, and it was guarded by packs of crabs in the size of a truck that can beat your ass in seconds,

What if we were to relieve the memory of a krill?

——

Credit to @almostoriginalartisan for some of the screenshot here and also for @lyra-ame for carrying us throughout the quest while us two were dying uwu

#prince does ramble #prince does game #season of shattering #season of shattering spoiler #sky cotl #sky: cotl #sky children of the light #sky children of light #crying sobbing #the music though #that intense bass #that was so good my heart is still racing

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jiminrings · 3 years ago

Note

umm can we like do one where he touches y/n? Like he's all nervous but wants to make her feel good and she directs him through the whole thing?! Idk just sexy times hehehhe

cold senior!y/n x stem major!koo masterlist :D

jungkook sees you wearing a button-up blouse and all his inhibitions are ruined; alternatively, stem koo touches you for the first time

Jungkook’s shy — shy to the degree that he can’t find his voice when you quietly compliment him on his hair, but not shy enough to try and hold your hand whenever the two of you pass Hyeji or any desperate (yet unfortunate) classmate of his.

Jungkook is shy, but that doesn’t mean he’s subtle.

He’s not subtle with the way he looks at you from top to bottom with his eyes wide and his breathing shallow. He could swear up and down that he's quiet and have in fact given Jimin the spook of his lifetime at 2 in the morning when he creeped up on him, when all his poor friend wanted to do was drink water. Jungkook swears he's not obvious, but he's oblivious to the way you could hear his breathing.

He's not subtle with the way his eyes follow your movement and his speech is interrupted, unknowingly putting an end to your discourse on how every other beverage in the world, besides coffee, is considered decaf.

He actually forgets to breathe for a second and he feels every single thought vanish from his mind all at once, his focus only zeroing on you.

“Is that a new shirt?”

You're just about to present your argument to him when you suddenly feel the lack of noises of disbelief from your boyfriend, turning to him in the exact moment that he springs you an unrelated but very important question. "This shirt?"

Jungkook sees you point to yourself and he can't be subtle with how eagerly he nods. He decides then and there that maybe having no shame wouldn't be so bad after all, because seeing you chuckle at what seems to be an innocent question (and you still assume that it is) eases his embarrassment.

"Mhmm, it's new. You noticed?"

All the inhibitions loitering around his mind fly out the door the moment you respond to him, a happy yet surprised smirk on your face after seeing his interest. Jungkook's face, however, turns even more flushed because then does it click that what you're wearing isn't a part of a plan.

What you're wearing — as in the pale pink and silky button-up blouse, with the short sleeves, the relaxed lapel collar, and the low dip; as in the same blouse his eyes are fixated on, with the fitting and cut on you making it seem like it's only made for only you — is not a grand rouse to tease him.

The shirt you're wearing that gives you the loveliest silhouette and the sheer two handfuls of cleavage that Jungkook wants to volunteer to hold up, isn't a plan.

There is no plan for Jungkook.

There is no plan at all.

“Yoongs and Jin want to go to this bazaar later," your voice breaks up the static in Jungkook's mind which makes him gulp, "Jin’s just fixing up in the office and Yoongi’s picking up something from the post office.”

He's confused when you don't comment on your shirt further and you just go straight to telling your boyfriend about your own plans with your friends for the day, his mouth hanging open.

There's no intention nor malice behind your shirt that's meant for him or anyone else in that matter. He knows you're fond of giving him a nudge every now and then, but you never act on the same thing twice.

He knows that you wait for him, you respect his decisions, and love him so-dearly even if he's always caught in the middle of sexual innuendos that just fly over his head and you have to chuckle and shake your head throughout all of them.

Not only does Jungkook know, but he's dead sure that he wants nothing more in life right now than to hold your shirt open and suck on your boobs.

“I like this shirt.”

He comments all of a sudden and it sounds more like a confession than it is a statement, the straightforward and deeper tone of his voice making you peer your head at him.

You were initially supposed to go into the bathroom to change into your pants because your silk top doesn't exactly go with pajama shorts that have tiny hearts on them and have been worn on several occasions by Jin when all his clothes are in the laundry, but Jungkook shoots you a look that you can't deny.

He's sitting at the edge of your bed with his hand outstretched, the usual pout on his face is gone and surprisingly replaced with a clench on his jaw that you can't quite decipher yet.

“Thanks. I like it too," you giggle when he pulls you by your hips, making you tower over him while he's sat down. The look on his face looks happy, relaxed even, but there's still the clench on his jaw that you pay extra attention to.

Jungkook's hair is a little longer now and therefore much more noticeable when he combs it back with his hands, the lines that his fingers leave from weaving through them being indented. It shouldn't really be your main concern but you can't help but think that his jaw looks sharper this way, symmetrical to how his strong brows are visible with his hair out of the way.

You snap out of it when you realize that there's no furrow to Jungkook's eyebrows and that means he isn't angry or anything of the sort. There's no unease bothering him that you could think of, but it worries you even more when he looks even more stern now.

"Are you-"

You physically can't find the words because Jungkook takes it upon himself to grab you by your hips and make you hold onto his shoulders as the only way to make yourself stable, his mouth immediately diving into yours that makes you meld to him out of instinct.

There's something in the way he's kissing you because you could swear that it feels a little more desperate and needy, not that Jungkook's kisses never felt that way because they always do, but you could just feel it deeper in all senses.

You grunt the moment he accidentally bites on your bottom lip with his teeth, giving him a second to catch his breath but he feels absolutely helpless with the way he's now eye-level with your cleavage.

"Wasn't supposed to do this today."

He mutters to your mouth as soon as he desperately dives in back for a kiss, this time pulling you towards his body to make the both of you fall back to your bed, the sudden movement so unlike him that your squeak resonates but gets swallowed by his tongue anyways.

"Do what today?" you ask with only half a mind because to put it bluntly, Jungkook feels different today that his sudden barrage of deep and desperate kisses pulled the breath out of you.

Jungkook shifts beneath you and only then does it register in your mind that you're lying on top of him, gathering yourself to sit closely beside him instead and it's the moment you feel the bulge in his sweatpants graze the inside of your thigh.

“Jungkook?” you ask half-entertained and half-curious as to what made him this hard in a matter of minutes, oblivious to the gravity of your blouse and what's beneath it that drives him near the edge. “You need help?”

“No.”

He answers quickly yet he enunciates it as clear as he could, his voice heavy on the tip of his tongue with finality.

His answer leaves no room for discussion and the roughness in his voice makes you squint, tilting your head at him when he next spoke.

“I wanna help you.”

Jungkook pulls himself up from his lying position and kisses you languidly this time, easily making you somehow bored because it's tame compared to when he kissed you minutes ago, but you never get the chance to deepen it because he's trailing his lips to the shell of your ear, biting on it softly.

“Help me how?”

It's a loaded exhale that leaves your boyfriend as you basically just asked him to elaborate on how he wants nothing to do but to bury his face on your tits and change his place of residency to the valley between your chest.

Jungkook kisses down to your throat and he lets his tongue linger there, sucking so lightly that it makes you imagine if he's even doing so, but you can't tell because he's making your head tilt back on purpose.

“I can touch you, right?" he asks politely as he drags the tip of his tongue to your clavicle, his eyes looking up just as kindly for confirmation. "Can I?”

"Of course you could," you shiver when Jungkook places his thumbs underneath your arms and right to where the band of your bra extends from the cups, the goosebumps on your skin not going unnoticed because your boyfriend chuckles right to your ear.

“I was actually planning on asking you if I could try and touch you next week because I was too nervous,” he admits just as sure but not as forward this time, licking his lips as he lowers his head to meet your tits that are pushed together, only seeing the limited skin that your blouse allowed. “B-but you just looked too pretty today.”

You've come to realize in situations such as these, Jungkook says the first thing that comes to his mind. There's no filter and no barrier because he says what he needs to say the moment his mind throws in the words together. Could be a little incoherent at times, but his boyish charm is just something that proves to you how genuine he really is.

“Cute.”

Jungkook hears you mutter under your breath as you peer up at him, your roles being reversed as you're now the one who's sitting on the bed and he's the one towering over you, the sight of you being laid-back with your hands supporting you making the gears in his head turn.

He lurches at you again before you know it, just one more chaste kiss to replenish your taste on his tongue before he starts to unbutton your blouse.

“Calm down,” you chuckle when you see his fingers trembling but you make no move in helping him, in fact, you become even more relaxed as you look at him fiddle with the buttons.

“Sorry. I just really, really can’t wait to see you," he only apologizes half-heartedly, barely undoing the second button because he's so jittery and excited that he can't contain himself.

“Oh! Right,” you snort and it makes him wonder if you've suddenly had you eureka moment that's totally unrelated to the situation right now. “I forgot you’ve never seen neither my pussy nor my boobs.”

The harmless jab you make at him gets him to deadpan at you, scoffing with his whole chest at your teasing, magically curing his trembling fingers.

“Heh. I’m getting there, miss,” Jungkook rolls his eyes sarcastically and makes sure to stress on the last word to try and get into your nerves as much as you do with him.

He beats you in getting the last word because his hands get to the button that holds the peak fullness and weight of your tits, seeing with his own two eyes on how your boobs are full and almost spilling within your bra.

Jungkook gulps and he'd pay to see the replay of your tits that went from a tight cleavage to expanding fully after being released from the confines of your blouse, the unmistakable bounce of them spilling out from your top forever engraved in his mind.

“Oh my god.”

His hands work on autopilot to peel off your shirt, leaving you in your bra and shorts alone. Jungkook leans in from the side to look at your back so he could undo the clasp of your bra by himself, a heavy sigh leaving him when he feels the peak of your tits from underneath your bra press right to his chest when he undoes the clasp.

He tilts his head back to see his handiwork, his pupils dilating even more at the sight of your bra completely removed and your tits out for him to see.

Jungkook literally pauses right in front of you and for a second you're scared because you think you've broken him, a breathless giggle leaving your when you bring your thumb up to wipe the corner of his lips.

“You’re drooling, handsome.”

You're not sure whether it's because you pointed it out or it's the term of endearment, but atleast any of the two or perhaps everything you've done for the matter is what sets him off.

Jungkook wastes no time and lets his large hands squeeze your boobs tightly, moaning when he feels the soft yet firm flesh in his palms.

"That's it," you whimper when he squeezes them again, feeling the pressure out of your boobs being rubbed right off with how he rolls them in his hands, "just like that."

Jungkook's moan gets stuck in his throat when he rolls your nipples between his fingers and he gets a whine out of you, but he's positive that a chill ran up his spine and resided there the moment he squished your tits together.

The visual alone of your tits pushed together and cupped by his hands makes his cock twitch, a needy whine shamelessly tumbling out of his lips before he can even hold himself back.

"Fuck," he mutters as he licks his lips at the sight, turning his gaze to look at you. “Have I ever told you that I dreamed about your tits once?”

Jungkook's out of the blue statement makes you choke on your moan, willing your eyes open to look at him.

“What happened then?”

You ask as casually as you could to reflect your boyfriend who looks like he's just now remembered this tidbit at the heat of the moment, all while still rolling your tit between his hand while he plays with your nipple using the other.

“You let me suck on them,” he hums, giving you one of the sweetest smiles you've ever seen, suddenly stopping his ministrations so he can grip you by the shoulders while he speaks into the crook of your neck. “You let me suck on your tits for so long that I fell asleep with them in my mouth.”

The bluntness of his words shoot straight into your core, his hazy eyes smiling at you when you try to bounce back. It's admirable, really — looking at you looking at him like you could eat him up, all the while your hands are unconsciously holding his wrists, trying to put them back to your tits where they belong.

“You want that?” you coo to him when you feel him kiss the corner of your mouth. “I do have to leave in less than an hour though.”

Jungkook laughs and he knows you're serious, but he takes his chances anyway, knowing deep-down that he can't pry you away from your friends with a crowbar even if he wanted to.

“Do you really?” he play-whines to your neck as he kisses down the center of your chest, “can I tag along? I won’t talk the whole time.”

The laugh gets stuck in your throat the moment you feel Jungkook's mouth attach to your nipple, his tongue swirling boldly at the bud and the accompanying moan he has out of sheer enjoyment in sucking your boob render you helpless.

“It’s okay,” he hums with his mouth full of your boob, looking right at you when he suckles more harshly this time. “You’d let me do that next time, right?”

“R-right.”

It's only rare that Jungkook makes you speechless and your lack of words is something that shoots straight into his ego, feeling a lot more confident with the way your moans are amplified in his ear.

“I loved my dream that night,” he almost moans just by thinking about it, “remember when I said I couldn’t come over because Jimin needed my help with his thesis?”

You don't answer but Jungkook doesn't seem to like that, grazing his teeth on your nipple while he twists the other that it makes you jolt and actually think before your brain turns into mush the second after, vaguely recalling the time that he was talking about.

He's satisfied with the way you nod eagerly, a sweet smile that fills you up from the inside-out.

“I lied.”

“You lied?" you ask in disbelief but there's no real anger behind it. In fact, it even sounded like you were thoroughly amused. "You know how to lie?”

Jungkook breathlessly laughs to your jab, audibly 'ooh'-ing at your reply which makes you giggle even louder.

It's nice, actually, but there's another version of nice that you can't quite explain when Jungkook slaps your tit from the side and it makes your giggles cease, replaced with a moan that racks through you and makes your boyfriend tremble by the knees.

“I jerked off to the dream version of your tits,” he says with no shame while he furiously rubs your nipple in small circles, “and I cummed so, so hard in my hand that I felt too ashamed to see you that night.”

The dots only connect in your mind later on, realizing that Jungkook's voice did sound too hoarse and rushed for him to be only irritated at Jimin's thesis which he could eat for breakfast.

“Oh baby,” he hears you moan and it only makes him desperate to make you feel even better, his hand on the groove of your spine when you arch your back in pleasure, “you’re so good at this.”

“I am?”

His usual shy demeanor, especially from being praised, is something you highly treasure and is currently being showcased at the moment, keening from the warmth of your words.

"You are."

“I’m not gonna lie,” Jungkook chuckles to himself and the deepness of it makes you look for his warm touch even further, “it’s gonna take me like, four business days to not be nervous and finally eat you out.”

There's something about Jungkook that is unshakeable all the way down to your bones, seeing to it that he's in the middle of sucking and grasping at your tits, but he's also telling you how nervous he actually is and is making you laugh with his candidness.

“Don’t have to be nervous, Koo. You make me feel good anyway,” you pinch at his cheeks and he melts at your touch for a second, but tries to worm out of it as it hits him that he shouldn't be the one who's taken care of today. “But okay. I’ll wait for four business days to have you eat me out.”

Jungkook laughs with his whole body when you go along with him and his specific timeframe when it comes to psyching himself out, taking the time to see you laugh and the way your face turns into his favorite view before his hand goes elsewhere.

You're perfect, actually.

"You're wet."

Jungkook trails his finger on the center lining of your pajama shorts, and it reminds you of the fact that you haven't cummed yet and it seems that your boyfriend's not quite done with you yet.

“And whose doing is that, hm?”

Jungkook toothily grins, kissing you sweetly on the lips that you feel him smiling throughout. "Me."

He lowers himself down for him to be eye-level with your clothed core, his nose brushing against the lining of your shorts that it makes you writhe briefly, your shuffling coming to a halt when he holds you in place by holding your hands.

Jungkook's eyes are easily fixated on the shape of you that's curved into the fabric of your shorts, the wet spot that's growing the more he takes his time staring right back at him.

You clearly didn't expect it, which is why you obscenely moan to look down and see Jungkook diving in and inhaling you directly, his nose brushing against your clothed clit in the process.

“You smell so sweet.”

His lips press ever so gently to your mound that it makes you shudder with how soft he does it, looking down to see Jungkook closing his eyes who looks up at you with hooded eyes at the same time.

Jungkook winks before he closes his eyes and wastes no time in kissing your core as how he'd kiss your mouth, his pressure just as rough when he's desperate.

"Fuck, Jungkook!" you whine needily because as much as he's giving you, he's not giving you all because you realize that there's still a barrier between you and his tongue. “Y-you sure? Four business days? Can’t I have a rush order here?”

He finds it amusing that you're trying to banter with him in order to level yourself, and it's cute actually, but Jungkook knows better.

“Nah. I'm imploding on the inside from trying to psych myself out, y’know.”

He carelessly replies and before you can even add into the conversation, your eyes train on your boyfriend who's suddenly stopped, a plead growing in the back of your throat.

Jungkook closes his fist but only juts out his middle finger that’s in a closed knuckle, looking as if he's knocking.

"W-what are you doing?" all the words die down at the tip of your tongue when you feel his knuckle trail up at the seam of your shorts, stopping at the spot where you shudder and let out the faintest of whines.

"Don't you mean who?"

Jungkook drives his knuckle into your clothed clit and the shrill moan he gets makes his skin light up on fire, taking pleasure in seeing you writhing underneath him and moaning his name.

“Am I doing good?” he asks as he drills in his knuckle, hiking up your leg on his shoulder as he uses the extra space from beside you to his advantage

“You’re doing great, baby,” you almost feel like crying with how good you feel, willing your eyes open to see Jungkook who's just as lost in pleasure as you are, “so, so great.”

“Are you s-seriously,” you ask in between moans, feeling the familiar knot in your stomach intensify in waves, “gonna make me cum in my shorts?”

Jungkook works even more diligently now that you mention it, the sweat from his forehead dripping all the way down to his neck as you make the happy mistake in observing on how fucked out he looks while making you feel good.

“I can clean you up. Suck your cum out as much as I can.”

Jungkook hits the nail in the head because you find yourself gushing before it could even register in your mind that's consumed in a high.

And true to his word, Jungkook does suck up the proof of his doing so eagerly that you have to pull him up by his hair gently. “S-sensitive."

Your boyfriend lets you regain your breath as he proudly lies down beside you, wiping the sweat from your forehead with the back of his hand as he looks fondly at you.

Jungkook looks so proud of himself and you make sure to tell and make him feel just as much, a sincere kiss pressed on his temple.

“Not gonna help me out of my shorts?”

“Four business days.”

You change to your actual bottoms in the bathroom and you have to grip at the edge of the sink because your knees keep trembling, actually chuckling to yourself with how this situation fills you up with pride.

You come out to find Jungkook sitting on the edge of your bed in a prim and proper situation, having changed into your jersey that he takes the liberty of stealing and wearing every time he comes over.

He's holding your bag in his hands, flashing your phone and the notification that Jin's coming home in ten minutes and Yoongi's arriving not far off.

Jungkook has a blush on his cheeks and he's back to his sheepish state, nuzzling your neck in comfort while you smother his face in kisses.

“Did I do good?”

“You did perfect, Koo.”

as always, lmk what you think!! i love answering asks :D what do you want to see from the lunchbox lovers next? send them here <3

#stem koo #stem koo misc.#jungkook smut #jungkook imagine #jungkook oneshot #jungkook oneshots #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #jungkook au #jungkook writing #jungkook fic recs

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drwcn · 4 years ago

Note

I loved your fem lwj take on things. How would thibgs go if WWX was the lady? Other than ppl assuming she stood up for the Wens bcs she jad feelings for WN ( and that Yuan was hers)

Heyyy friend, I think I’ve seen a couple of girl!wwx fics floating around in ao3 so i certainly won’t be the first :P.

Also I completely misread your ask initially, I thought you were asking me what I think would happen if A-Yuan was WWX’s kid, and I was like oh?? But then I realize wait... I can make it worse.

Today, I decided that my mortal soul doesn’t matter, so here we go. Let’s see how accursed I can make this idea:

[1]

It started with Jiang Cheng. Jiang Wanyin had set out for the Burial Mount with the explicit goal of throttling speaking with Wei Wuxian, but what greeted him at the entrance of the “Demon Subduing Palace” — more of a cave than anything really — was not his martial sister, but Wen Ning. Well, what had once been Wen Ning.

Black veins ran across his pale, ashen face, down his equally ashen neck , and into the major veins beneath his clavicles covered by the collars of his black threadbare robes. Lifeless eyes, white as his skin, stared into a void the living could not see. There were talismans littering his body, and Jiang Cheng knew that when he spoke to this fierce corpse, he was not speaking to the young Wen boy, but to his mistress who controlled him with her demonic cultivation.

Wei Wuxian refused to face him. Refused him explanation. Refused him closure.

“Er-jie!” Jiang Cheng screamed into the stony expressionless face of Wen Qionglin. “If you continue to protect them, then I can’t protect you!!”

There was no response.

Suddenly, just as Jiang Cheng was about to kick and fight his way into the cave, Wen Ning thrusted out his right fist, and in his grasp was a piece of purple silk. Jiang Cheng unfolded the silk, vaguely recognizing that it had been cut from someone’s robe, and saw what was wrapped within was a slip of parchment.

割袍断义*, the paper read. Tell the world that I, Wei Wuxian, first disciple of Yunmeng Jiang has forever defected (Note: 割袍断义- to rip one's robe as a sign of repudiating a sworn brotherhood (idiom)).

With this, there was nothing left to say. Hurt and furious, Jiang Wanyin threw the piece of parchment onto the dirt ground, grinded his heel down on it, and left the Burial Mount without ever having drawn Sandu.

Inside the cave, Wen Qing held Wei Wuxian’s hand. “Why won’t you just tell him? He’s your brother; he can help you, you can —”

Wei Wuxian’s mile long stare seemed to be gazing at something — someone — very far away. Slowly, she placed her other palm over her belly, which horrifically was already starting to round out. “Nobody can help me now, Qing-jie.”

“I can,” said Wen Qing, blunt as ever. “I can make it go away, if you want.”

“No.” A droplet of tear escaped pass long lashes. “No.”

[2]

It continued with Jiang Cheng.

On a snowy night, the first winter after Wei Wuxian escaped with the Wen remnants to the Burial Mount, Jiang Cheng was rudely awakened from his slumber by a less-than-stealthy intruder breaking and entering into his bed chamber.

Zidian whipped through the air, lighting the room with her eerie violet glow, before the intruder could think to take one more step. It was a man, judging from his silhouette colliding against the wall and the pained groan he made in response. The very next second, the tail of Zidian coiled tightly around his neck and dragged him across the floor towards beneath Jiang Cheng’s waiting foot.

The Sect Master of Yunmeng Jiang summoned Sandu, ready to deliver the final strike, but just as his blade sailed towards the intruder’s chest, a pale arm jutted upwards, blocking Sandu’s descent and revealing a pale hand holding a … a...

Even in the dark, Jiang Cheng immediately recognized the mahogany comb.

“Jiang — ! Zongzhu —!” The man croaked out urgently, throat still stomped on by Jiang Cheng’s foot. It was - it was Wen Ning?!

Jiang Cheng looked him over. He was pale, yes, but his eyes appeared human. His hair was brushed and haphazardly done up in a farmer’s top knot. He was wearing farmer’s clothing too, probably more inconspicuous for travel than his Ghost General getup.

“Jiang-zongzhu! P—please!!”

No, impossible.

“Wei — Wei-guniang—”

Jiang Cheng lifted his foot and dragged Wen Ning up in a split second. “What’s wrong with Wei Wuxian?!” Wen Ning coughed and shook his head desperately. “No time to explain. My sister asked me to fetch you. Please, you have to come! Wei-guniang’s life is in danger! If you won’t come, I’ll...I’ll have to go to Gusu, and I don’t know if - if -”

Jiang Cheng followed Wen Ning.

For speed, they travelled by sword, but even so, dawn was breaking by the time they arrived. The crowd of Burial Mount’s villagers huddling anxiously outside of the Demon Subduing Palace parted for them upon their arrival. Jiang Cheng took a moment to gather himself and square his shoulders. Whatever it was; he was ready.

He was wrong. None of the dozens of scenario he had agonized over on the flight here could have prepared him for what awaited him inside.

Wen Qing, pale and drenched in sweat, was near complete spiritual collapse, and without Wen Qing’s spiritual energy sustaining her, the single tenuous thread by which Wei Wuxian’s life hung on would have undoubtedly snapped under the toil and devastation her body had been put through.

There was so much blood, so, so much blood everywhere, and amidst the blood, there was a baby.

Fuck.

Jiang Cheng transfused his sister half of his total spiritual reserve over the course of a day, while an exhausted but unrelenting Wen Qing worked diligently under blood-soaked sheets.

Then at dusk, when the storm finally passed, Jiang Cheng sat at the mouth of the cave with a tiny, perfect little human — a girl, a niece! — in his arms and cursed Lan Wangji’s name.

Wen Qing was extremely clear with them: 孩子要是留在这里，养不活。

If the newborn was left to be raised at the Burial Mount, she would not live. And so, because parting was inevitable from the start, Wei Wuxian adamantly refused to hold or nurse the child. Her child.

I can’t. If I do, I won’t be able to let her go. Those dark eyes burned with more than just the delirium of her childbed fever. For once, Jiang Cheng could not find it in himself to argue.

Thus, he took his niece home and named her Jiang Yan 江曕. The name was not his doing. His foolish, misguided, stubborn sister had stroked her daughter’s soft, baby cheek and whispered it to her as a farewell gift.

Yan - to be bathed in daylight. In the end, when given a choice, Wei Wuxian still opted for her child to walk on broad sunny road.

It made Jiang Cheng wonder why, then, she would choose the dark twisted path for herself instead.

[3]

It ended with Jiang Cheng.

The truth was simple: Jiang Wanyin killed his shijie Wei Wuxian. He did. He meant to.

He killed her. But that did not mean he wanted her dead.

In one day, he had lost both of his sisters, leaving two orphans in their wake. Jiang Cheng could not ignore the cruel irony of their fate: one’s father murdered by his aunt, and other’s mother murdered by her uncle.

This was the kind of tragedy fairytales were made of, and if there were anything left in him to shed tears over it, he would. Standing amongst Nevernight’s carnage, he could not dredge up even a single drop of tear.

Jiang Cheng didn’t know how he could return home to Lotus Pier to face that cherub face, always so happy, so sweet, so utterly untainted by the world. She had her mother’s smile. Yan'er was starting to learn how to speak. Her first words were da-da.

Da-da. Die-die. Father.

He was standing beside her father now.

Lan Wangji. Devastated. Destroyed. …Deceived.

Jiang Cheng hated him so much, so fucking much that for one insane second, he thought about telling Lan Wangji the truth just to see what would happen. Maybe he would run Jiang Cheng through with his Bichen - that would be a relief now, wouldn’t it? - or maybe he would jump after Wei Wuxian.

Truly, if he knew, he would. Jump, that is. Jiang Cheng was almost entirely sure. Oh the utter melodrama that would inspire indeed!

But then...

Wei Ying birthed you a daughter, a lovely, perfect, blessed little girl, and she carried that secret to her grave. I may be damned by my actions, but you, who have done nothing for her and taken everything, why should you deserve something as sacred as the truth?

Jiang Cheng turned away.

He was acutely aware that one day Jiang Yan may very well be the literal death of him. After all — 杀母之仇不共戴天 — one cannot tolerate living under the same sky as the murderer of one’s mother.

Be that as it may, he would raise Jiang Yan well, just as he promised. Unlike his sister, he would not break his word. Jiang Yan was of Lotus Pier, of Yunmeng, like her mother and grandfather before her. That for him, was enough.

Jiang Cheng clutched Sandu and gripped Zidian. Whatever his fate, he already made peace with it, and the rest was inconsequential.

One day, he may die, but today he lives, and so as long as he lives, Jiang Yan and all of Yunmeng Jiang will be protected . So as long as he lives, they will flourish.

[...and in between]

On the streets of Yiling, Lan Wangji tilted his head inquisitively at Wei Wuxian and the little boy at her side and asked, “This child, he...”

In response, Wei Wuxian patted her chest in a self-declarative kind of way and announced, “Oh this child, I birthed him!”

He stared at her in shell-shocked silence, his mind racing with panicked thoughts of but that’s impossible — that was just once — even if — the boy is too old to be —

“怎么，蓝湛，不要我们娘儿俩了？” What, Lan Zhan, you don’t want the child and I?

“Wei— Wei Ying—”

Then of course, she had laughed, and Lan Wangji thought no more of it.

Just a joke. A silly joke.

In time, he would come to realize his mistake.

~~~

[A/N]: I’m not even a little bit sorry.

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