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notsocheezy · 5 months ago

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Brain Curd #341

Brain Curds are lightly edited daily writing - usually flash fiction and sometimes terrible on purpose.

The following episode of The Frank Program concerns serious topics, including SA. Though Brain Curds don’t typically include content warnings, this one does. Do not tread lightly.

Daryl arrived at the studio to find Big Mike in the host’s seat.

“Hey,” he asked. “What are you doing in my chair?”

Mike crossed his arms. “I’m hosting the show today.”

“The hell you are!” Daryl slammed his palms on the table. “I’ve been digging around in the gutter to find the worst dirt on Tangent you could imagine. I’m seeing this through.”

“No. You’re not.” Mike sighed. “I am.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m going to take him down.”

Daryl scoffed. “This is ridiculous.”

“Kid, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. And you know deep down that nothing you’ve found is gonna be enough to take away even a shred of this asshole’s power. You can’t afford to make this kind of enemy.”

“And you can?”

“No.” Mike took a deep breath. “But it’s pretty much over for me, anyway. I might as well do something good to make up for being such a huge piece of shit all my life.”

“Mike…”

“Don’t try to talk me out of it. You don’t know the things I’ve done, the people I’ve hurt. If I can save one vulnerable woman from that creep… just one…” He shook his head. “Hand me your notes.”

Daryl hesitated. But after a short moment, he pulled a folder out from his backpack and placed it in Mike’s outstretched hand.

“Whatever you do, make sure this episode goes out. I don’t care what Frank says, or what Chuck says, you upload it. Even if you have to leak it, you get it out there.”

Daryl nodded. “Of course.”

Mike pointed to the corner of the room. “I dusted off your old spot for you.”

“Hey, everybody!” Mike clapped. “Welcome back to The Frank Program! I don’t even need to introduce you to today’s guest - you all know him! The man, the myth, the legend, Chuck Tangent!”

“Thank you, thank you.” Chuck looked up at the ceiling. “That’s a lovely skylight you have there, is that new?”

“No, it’s been here since you ‘installed’ it.”

He rubbed his chin. “Oh, I get it. Funny.”

“How’s Hailey 2.0?”

“Ever since she failed to be elected President, I’ve been tweaking her programming. Unfortunately, nobody knows how her algorithm works, so -”

“The capital of Iceland is Greenland,” Hailey said through a small speaker on the desk.

Mike raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think that’s right.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s a little off.” Chuck cleared his throat. “At this point, I think we’re better off changing reality to match with the things she says rather than the other way around.”

Hailey added another fun fact. “The largest country in Africa is Europe.”

“Uh…” Mike tilted his head. “Does she just say fun facts about geography?”

“She thinks she does, yes.” Chuck patted the speaker like it was her head. “Unfortunately, a server crashed and we lost her old personality, so we’re kinda stuck with it now.”

Daryl looked at Mike with silent intensity. He could feel the kid staring at him.

“So, Chuck…” Mike gulped. “I hear you know another recent guest of ours: Alaska James.”

“Hmph,” Chuck grunted. “You could say that. She’s been a real pain in my neck, recently. I take it she talked to you about VidBo?”

“Only briefly.”

“Well, you can forget whatever she told you. She’s biased against me. I’ll fill you in on the real story. See, I purchased this fledgeling video streamer that no one had heard of and already I’ve turned it around. Everyone is there.”

“Not The Frank Program,” Daryl smirked.

Chuck turned around to look. “Not yet.”

“So,” Mike asked. “She’s a pain in your neck, how?”

“She’s leading all sorts of harassment campaigns against me and Hailey. Claiming discrimination. I’m a firm believer in free speech, but this is too much. Her sort of content just isn’t right for my platform - she and others like her have got to go.”

“How’s she harassing you?”

“Endless complaints. It’s impossible to wade through them all and get to the real problems affecting my users - which, by the way, we are working on. Some videos were auto-removed for expressing opinions, which may not have been the priority of the previous owners, but I think that’s important to fix.”

“Is porn not free speech?”

“No. Free speech is whatever dirty thing that comes out of your mouth, not the dirty things you put in it… among other holes.” He shuddered. “It’s just not appropriate.”

“Speaking of not appropriate, Chuck, I need to ask you about some of her other allegations.”

Tangent scowled. “What else did she tell you?”

“For one thing, she says you didn’t always act as the puritan paragon you present as today.”

Daryl smiled. Mike was using his words verbatim.

Mike continued. “I looked into it. Her story lines up. You and her both attended the 2014 Adult Entertainment Awards.”

“Maybe I did.” Chuck shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”

“It sure was. Miss James was just getting her start in the industry at the time. She was nineteen. According to her, she met you there. You were about forty at the time, were you not?”

“In 2014… I would have been forty or forty-one, yes. Depending on when in the year that was.”

“You were over twice her age. When you told her you could help her with her career, she trusted you. After all, you were a big fish. Even back then, you were one of the hundred most wealthy people in the world. You had more connections than anyone else at that awards show.”

“I suppose I did.”

“So what did you ask for in exchange, Chuck?”

Tangent was silent. He glared at Mike with eyes glazed over.

“I’d like to hear it from you.”

His eyes twitched.

“Alright. According to Alaska James, you invited her up to your suite on the top floor of the hotel. We’ve got eyewitness testimony to confirm this. You were married at the time, weren’t you, Chuck?”

Tangent gritted his teeth.

“So how is it that an upstanding married entrepreneur like yourself thought it was okay to get her drunk and have your way with her?”

“I did no such thing.”

“So what did you do in that hotel room together, Chuck?”

“Call me Mr. Tangent.” He straightened up in his chair. “Is it a crime to have company in a hotel room, Mike? We played board games. I’m horrified you’d think this low of me. Frank will surely be disappointed that you fell for the oldest trick in the book - a woman lying about a man’s impropriety to bring him down to her level. She’s a dirty porn star with a bone to pick. You’re a fool to trust her.”

“Maybe you’ve got a point.” Mike pulled the folder out from under the desk and dropped it on the surface with a thud. “But I don’t think you can explain the seventeen other women who have also stepped forward.”

Tangent growled. “You are making the biggest mistake of your life.”

Mike smiled. “No, I’m not. I already did. This folder is full of your mistakes, Chuck. If you can call them that. And believe me, what you did to Alaska James was sickening, but it’s nothing in comparison to -”

Chaos, total chaos erupted in an instant, all at once. There were so many sounds: door slamming open, gunshot, splatter, Mike went silent, thud, screaming. Daryl realized the screams were coming from his own mouth. Wilfred Buffman stood in the doorway with a smoking pistol, flecks of blood on his cheek. Chuck Tangent held his hands up in the air.

Mike had a bullet wound right through his head.

To be continued tomorrow. Follow to find out what happens next.

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the-upper-east · 11 days ago

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umm… what… 😃

#no one’s suprised but damn that was a quick #chuck bass #gossip girl #gossip girl book #currentlyreadingreactions #the upper east #tw sa #cw sa

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spr1ngpvrinbwunnie · 4 months ago

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In what ways can we annoy 👁️ 📺 the doctor once he's comfortable having us around?

Since he's always watching us and his minions loves us more than him, I think it's only fair that he receives our rebellious bratty affections too

For science of course ✨

Oh, absolutely. If The Doctor is going to haunt every screen, command an army of little gremlins, and act like a smug, untouchable mastermind, then it’s only fair that we annoy the hell out of him in return. After all, what’s the point of being his “favorite” if we don’t make him suffer a little?

So, for science, here are some of the best ways to mess with The Doctor once he’s comfortable having you around:

1. Name His Minions Stupid Things

The Critters? You nickname them like they're Pokémon.

“This one’s Greg. That one? Mr. Chompers. Oh, and this little guy? He's my emotional support nightmare.”

The robotic bodies? You give them absurd names based on their appearance.

“Hey, Steve! Get over here!”

The Doctor: “They are NOT named—”

“Shhh, Steve is speaking.”

Bonus: If you call one of his bodies “Blinky” because of the eye on the screen, he will stop talking to you for an hour out of pure spite.

2. Purposely Misquote Him

Any time he says something intimidating, twist his words into something embarrassing.

The Doctor: “You cannot escape my sight.”

You: “Aww, so you admit you’re obsessed with me?”

The Doctor: “THAT IS NOT—”

Bonus: Do it in front of his minions so they start believing it.

3. Stare Directly Into the Nearest Camera and Make Awkward Eye Contact

Since he’s always watching, just… stare.

Don’t blink.

The Doctor: “What are you doing?”

You: “Just making sure you’re still there, buddy.”

Extra points if you slowly inch closer to the camera like a horror movie character.

Even MORE points if you whisper:

“Can you feel me staring into your soul?”

“Boo.”

"Guess what? I unplugged that camera. You're talking to NOTHING right now."

4. Draw Silly Faces on His Screens

If there’s a dusty screen, draw a dumb face on it.

If he possesses a monitor, immediately draw a mustache on it.

The Doctor: “Remove that atrocity immediately.”

You: “Sorry, can’t hear you over how handsome you look with this curly mustache.”

5. Pretend You Can't Hear Him When He's Talking Through a Bad Speaker

If his voice glitches out or sounds weird over an old speaker, pretend you can’t understand.

The Doctor: “—ou under—tand me?”

You: “What? I think you said something about spaghetti?”

The Doctor: “No, I sa—”

You: “Did you just ask me to unplug you? Got it.”

The Doctor: “CEASE.”

6. Replace His Intimidating Dialogue With Cutesy Nicknames

The Doctor: “You are mine.”

You: “Okay, possessive much, Snugglebug?”

The Doctor: “…WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL ME?”

You: “I said, ‘Okay, Professor Cuddles, chill.’”

7. Hug His Minions Right in Front of Him

The Nightmare Critters already love you. Show them extra affection just to rub it in.

Hug one of the robotic bodies and go, “Wow, you’re so much nicer than your creator.”

The Doctor: “…Excuse me?”

You: “Shhh. Steve is my best friend now.”

Bonus: If you pet Yarnaby like a cat, it will immediately vibrate aggressively in approval.

8. Keep Saying “What’s the Magic Word?”

Any time he orders you to do something, act like a strict kindergarten teacher.

The Doctor: “Move to the next room.”

You: “What’s the magic word?”

The Doctor: “…Obey.”

You: “Nope, try again.”

Extra chaos: Make him say “please” in the most reluctant, soul-crushing tone possible.

9. Randomly Poke the Nearest Camera

Whenever you pass a camera, just boop it.

The Doctor: “…Stop that.”

Boop.

The Doctor: “I said STOP.”

Boop.

(He eventually shuts the camera off just to make you stop.)

10. Throw Something at One of His Bodies and Blame it on the Minions

You: [chucks a random item at his robot body]

The Doctor: “What was that?”

You: “Uh… Yarnaby did it.”

The Doctor: “That is the least believable lie I have ever heard.”

Yarnaby: [Vibrates aggressively, confirming guilt.]

11. Walk Into a Room and Say “I Know What You Did” Without Any Context

Doesn’t matter what he’s actually doing. Just say it.

The Doctor: “…”

You: “Yeah. I saw that.”

The Doctor: “…Elaborate.”

You: “You know what you did.”

Bonus: Do this while looking directly at a camera, then leave the room without another word.

12. Pretend You Found His “Secret Diary”

You: “So, I found your diary.”

The Doctor: “I do not KEEP a diary.”

You: “Really? Then who wrote ‘Dear Diary, today my minions ignored me in favor of my human and I felt deeply betrayed’?”

The Doctor: “…You INSOLENT—”

13. Leave Sticky Notes on His Screens with Passive-Aggressive Messages

“Your eye looks extra evil today. Good job!”

“Blink once if you have emotions.”

“Reminder: Stop being ominous for five minutes challenge (failed).”

“If you kill me, who will annoy you?”

14. Mess With His Voice Recordings

If he ever leaves an audio log, alter it.

Edit his voice so he sounds adorably squeaky.

The Doctor: “WHO DID THIS?!”

You: “Oh wow, your voice sounds SO CUTE. You should keep it.”

15. Summon Him Like a Ghost

Stand in a dark hallway.

Look into a broken screen.

Say “Doctor, Doctor, Doctor” like it’s Bloody Mary.

The nearest screen flickers to life.

The Doctor: “WHAT are you DOING.”

You: “Summoning you.”

The Doctor: “…I hate you.”

#harley sawyer #harley sawyer x reader #poppy playtime #poppy playtime x reader #the doctor x reader #the doctor #dr harley sawyer #╰₊✧ ﾟ⚬𓂂➢ 👁📺💉🩸#‹꒰ 🇶🇺🇾��🇳'🇸 🇼🇷🇮🇹🇮🇳🇬.꒱𖥔 ࣪~

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chlmtsdoll · 1 year ago

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SHOPPING WITH ART

౨ৎ Summary: it’s in the title ! Ballerina!reader x Art on a shopping date 🤍

౨ৎ Word count: 2k

౨ৎ Warnings: sugar baby! reader, mentions & talk of sex (duh !), semi public sexual acts, age gap (reader early 20’s) dilf age Art, fluff, needy reader, horny Art, mentions of Tashi in between, mutual pinning, petite!reader (sorry tall ppl), reader and Art are all over each other constantly

A/N: don’t know if I should classify this as a blurb or a fic but I’m gonna go with blurb since it’s short and sweet !!

“Dogs ?”

You had scrunched up your nose and shook your head terribly at Arts attempts to guess your favorite animal. He tilted his head as he looked down at you with a grin.

“Cats ?” He probed. You nodded pleased, with a giggle.

“Do I strike you as a dog person at all ?”

“No.” Art had laughed out and it sounded of wealth and pure adoration of you.

You two had been walking down Rodeo Drive in the mist of perfect weather on a bright day, Art had offered to take you shopping while Tashi took care of tennis business for the two of you. She requested some space and quietness for an hour or two — so of course you’d never pass up your expectation of basically trying on dresses for Art Donaldson as a living.

It still hadn’t hit you on the full one-eighty your life has taken from going from a lost ballerina to Art and Tashi’s young, beautiful, tennis protégé.

Or shared girlfriend. Whatever you had been.

You loved it. Especially days like this, you’d spend as much time as you could with Art when he wasn’t touring because he made you feel like it had only been the two of you on earth when you were together. You never stopped laughing, blushing, kissing… and a spawn of other things.

But when he’d been actually playing tennis, or doing things for his career like press or photoshoots. You missed him dearly. Even when he’d spend time with his daughter Lily.

It made your mood dim, and you’d find yourself dissociating from conversations or tennis to think about him or ponder when he’d be back to steal you away again. Tashi always caught you in the drift of it, but you’d snap right back to reality when you’d hear her say. “Okay. Art’s gonna take you out.” Your mood and demeanor would shift entirely.

“I feel like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.”

“Isn’t that movie controversial ?” Art questioned.

“Aren’t you much older than me ?” You replied as you glanced up at him, giving him every glitter of your wide Bambi eyes. He chucked.

“Oh. So should I walk on the other side of the sidewalk.. if that’s too much for you ?” He looked down at you as he moved from where you walked to the other side of the not so spacious side walk to prove his sarcasm.

“No!” You pleaded with a girlish laugh as you followed him anyways, bumping your shoulder into his arm on purpose not to be separated for another second.

You’d want to hold his hand so badly when you two would be out together, but with his public image being Tashi Duncan’s star husband, it wasn’t exactly the best decision when it came to the press — so even with as much as he wanted to, Tashi always told him to lay low when it came to physical contact with you in the open. Especially somewhere as public as Beverly Hills.

You’d never known where paparazzi had been hiding, lurking and waiting. And it wouldn’t be so easy for them to try and idealize it as Art Donaldson and his exceptionally younger “friend” that he takes shopping and on dates.

Tashi couldn’t control when you had been at home and essentially couldn’t keep your hands off each other entirely. Always hugging, cuddling, fucking. It didn’t matter. You were on him or vise versa, but when you’d go out Tashi would specifically insist “don’t touch each other.” before you’d leave.

But hiding didn’t transpire to you so much when you just completely couldn’t help yourself when it came to the man that made your heart flutter, you’d fought the limitations anyways.

Walking side by side you brushed your pinky against Arts much bigger hand. You saw him look down and a soft grin took upon his lips at the sight of your manicured pink tips grabbing at his hand. He could never resist you. locking pinky’s with yours, your smile had turned bashful but pleased as you’d walk together. Just praying no paps had caught the moment and you’d have to go through Tashi’s wrath later on.

♡

It was dress after dress you’d pick off of the rack, skirts, tops, and more shoes than you’d ever seen at once in person. But you absolutely adored this. Trying not to make another painfully high pitched sound when you’d find another pair that made your eyes go wide in awe.

Art was right there behind you as he chuckled at all of your darling reactions, finding it utterly too cute. You were like a doll and he’d spoil you till you’d probably pass out from exhaustion the moment you both got home from all the perks of shopping till you dropped. Literally.

“I don’t know. I love the waistline, but a deep v neck ? I just don’t see it.” You stepped out of the dressing rooms to where Art had been lounging on a chair since he wasn’t allowed in the actual dressing room area.

Art couldn’t say he didn’t know a thing or two when it came to a sense in fashion. Tennis was a sport based around the most expensive and luxury brands displaying their most fashionable and articulately put together pieces on star athletes like himself. But mainly living with the total of four ladies including the maid, had done his knowledge of the craft wonders.

“I think you look amazing in it, baby.” He implied, crystal blues tracing your perfect body cinched into the tight dress.

It made your breast sit in such a way that Art had to adjust the way he sat in his seat. You looked at yourself in the mirror while your hand ran down your curves. Your heels made you stand taller and your legs showcased eloquently.

One of the workers brought you a glass of champagne and you thanked her kindly before taking a sip, then turning to Art with a suggestive unsure look on your face.

“But do I look amazing though ?” You asked puzzled, with mostly sarcasm and art had shook his head, he chuckled as you glided back into the dressing rooms.

He even brought you things to try on as he just couldn’t pull back from his own suggestions of what he thought you looked to die for in.

“Art,” You turned to him opening up the curtain of the small space as you’d been in the mist of changing, just in your bra and panties.

“Put this on.” He passed you a dress and you were taken back by his desperation and need to see you in his choice of clothing. You stood and took it from him, but you couldn’t deny the slight pass of dominance from him turned you on a bit. You smiled at the curtain when he closed it quickly to leave so he wouldn’t get caught.

When you came out in what he had gave you, Art unfolded his leg and sat straighter in his chair as he examined the sight. And was it a sight to see.

The dress was white, a sixties kind of cut as it made your waist look otherworldly. The corset top made your torso extend and it was short enough that if you moved a little too much it would have been quite a show.

“So, what do you think of your outfit choice on me, Mr. Donaldson ?” You asked with your hands on your hips and the look on his face as his eyes graced over you had you blushing terribly.

Art had to take in a breath with an embarrassing place being lost for words, he stood up to walk towards you. His hand touched the delicate straps.

“Turn around.” he instructed.

“Okay. Bossy.” You joked, meanwhile he bit his lip to hold back nearly letting out an audible noise as he took in the way it cupped your ass just right. You were perfection in his eyes, all dolled up just for him. He licked his lips,

“You’re gorgeous, angel. Do you like it ? Because I love it, and I think you need it in your wardrobe. Well, not need, but it would be a nice touch.” He went on and you laughed at his high regard, your face heating up quite quickly now.

“I think it’s really pretty.” Your hand ran across the top that was embroidered with jewels, your smile enchanting as Art watched you.“next one coming up.”

You had walked by to go change again, but as you did you felt a smack on your ass and you turned around quickly to see Art grinning to himself when you gasped.

The responsible side of you would of protested as you remembered Tashi’s words, but you were anything but responsible when it came to your favorite blonde. You shook your head as your sly smile matched his and you went back into your dressing room.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t that long before Art had snuck in again and opened up the curtain, this time inserting himself into the room with you.

“Art!” You could hardly stop him before he had moved your hair out of the way and started attacking your neck with kisses, sucking in your sent as hands ran over your body,

“Fuck, you look good.” He breathed out as he kissed you and you’d fallen weak to his trap. Hands running to grab his hair as he groped your tits through the dress and kissed you sloppily. He towered over your dainty figure as he treated your body like clay for him to mold, you let out a whine from the back of your throat as he ran his tongue over yours.

His hands were flighting to unzip your dress while hiking it up your hips at the same time.

“Careful, it’s not mine,” you breathed out as Art peppered kisses anywhere he could.

“Oh, it will be yours. I’m buying it as soon as I’m done with you.” his tone was low and full of arousal as he pushed your front against the wall of the dressing room.

As much as you wanted him to fuck you right there, feel every inch of his need to have you take his cock while he treated you to an entire wardrobe that any girl your age would die for, was enough to make you shed your panties right then. But you had slipped from under his grasp.

“We can’t, we’re in public.” You uttered and Art had backed away from you with a groan as he ran his hands down his face and you grinned at the state you had gotten him in, uncomfortably hard and dick nearly ready to come through his fly at just the sight of you.

“Fine,” he sighed out and got ahold of himself before leaving again, you tried not to give him a mischievous smirk as you adjusted yourself and the dress. “Don’t think I don’t know how much you want it, you little minx, be ready for later because we’re not done here.”

You batted your eyelashes and acted all innocent as he shut the curtain and then you giggled to yourself. You had all the shoes and dresses you wanted ready by the time you exited again, and now with lips shimmering with gloss, you made eye contact with Art as he paid for all your new attire with pleasure. Licking his own lips every time he scanned over you, he carried all of your bags and he walked out with you happily.

Completely forgetting about the paparazzi, Art took your hand in his with ease. leading you down the walkway and you had bitten your lip under a satisfied little smile.

A/N: ugh ! I need that !

#art donaldson x female reader #art donaldson smut #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson #ballerina!reader #x reader #challengers #challengers smut #challengers movie #tashi duncan #artashi #challngers x reader #chlmtsdoll writes

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nanamineedstherapy · 5 months ago

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Ooga Booga Battle Royale

F!Reader x Pre-Historic Neanderthal JJK daddies (Gojo Satoru, Nanami Kento, Geto Suguru, Zenin Toji & Ryomen Sukuna)

Summary: Prehistoric, period-accurate Neanderthal JJK daddies fighting over you? With grunts, rocks, & zero verbal communication? Say less.

Trigger Warnings (May contain spoilers for the story): Fighting, Crack, Non-Graphic Violence, Maybe some death but not in a gruesome way-more in a comedy way.

You exist.

That is the problem.

In the grand, majestic, bacteria-infested wilderness, you—a Homo sapien woman—have committed the ultimate sin by having the audacity to be alive in the same vicinity as five of the most terrifying Neanderthal men to ever grunt their way through existence.

And worse? You smell good.

Which, in prehistoric terms, means war.

A cool wind howls through the valley. Birds scream. The grass shudders like it knows something stupid is about to happen.

Then—

THWACK!!!

A rock, massive, heavy, probably could kill a mammoth, lands near your foot. You blink. A club follows, barely missing your toe.

You look up.

Gojo.

Tall. Built. Filthy. Covered in mud, scratches, and an ego the size of a glacier. He grins, sharp teeth flashing, pointing at you. Then at himself. Then—slowly, dramatically—drags his fingers down his chest, smearing dirt as he flexes his pecs in the most unhinged display of caveman peacocking.

Translation: See muscles? Strongest. Best mate. Come cave.

You blink. Slowly shake your head.

Gojo pouts. He actually pouts.

Then—

SNAP!!!

A stick breaks.

Golden hair slicked back. Precise hunting scars like he personally invented caveman Botox. He sighs ( caveman sighs, deep, judgmental ), picks up a rock and chucks it at Gojo’s head.

Gojo barely dodges, screeching.

Nanami doesn’t even grunt. Just turns to you, lifts the biggest kill you’ve ever seen— some prehistoric beast that probably had a name —slung over his shoulder, and points to his cave, all very matter-of-factly.

Translation: I provide. You come.

Gojo throws another rock. It misses. But unfortunately—

BONK!!!

It hits a third caveman.

A low, dangerous growl.

Geto.

Emerging from the literal shadows, draped in feathers, hair long, eyes dark like he’s seen prehistoric horrors and survived. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t grunt. He stares. Tilts his head. Lifts a finger—crooks it.

Translation: Come. I put pretty thing in Cave.

Gojo screeches. Nanami physically exhales rage.

You take a step back.

Bad.

Very bad.

THUD!!!

Something—someone—drops from the trees above.

Toji.

Bigger. Meaner. Shirt? Doesn’t exist yet . Scars on scars. Wearing the fur of something that had fangs and regrets. He cracks his neck, flexes, and lets out a deep, primal, guttural noise.

Translation: Mine.

He already claims you.

The tension is lethal. One grunt away from Caveman Hunger Games.

Then, the worst thing happens.

A chuckle reverberates. Low. Menacing .

From the mountains.

Sukuna.

He doesn’t walk. He stalks . Covered in war paint, a necklace of teeth—probably human—and more muscle than necessary for survival. He doesn’t even look at the others.

Just at you.

Then he smirks.

He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t peacock.

He just cracks his knuckles.

Disarray!!!

Gojo lunges for you—Nanami intercepts, yeets him into a tree like he’s taking out the trash. Geto sweeps in, silent, precise, fingers inches from you—but Toji body-slams him into the dirt so hard the Earth quakes.

Sukuna? Laughing his ass off. Arms crossed, enjoying the primal disaster unfolding before him like it's his personal gladiator match.

You? You run.

Because no matter what happens tonight, one undeniable truth remains:

You are getting bonked and dragged into a cave.

And frankly, you haven’t decided whose cave you actually prefer.

Gojo, incapable of losing with dignity, screeches like a rabid pterodactyl and launches himself at you again, arms wide—fully committed to scooping you up like an overgrown saber-toothed tiger carrying off its prey.

But—

BLOCKED!!!

Nanami moved with the speed and efficiency of a man who did NOT wake up for this bullshit today. One massive arm swings—and Gojo goes flying Into another tree.

Gojo blinks. Sulks. Pouts. Contemplates his life choices.

Nanami does not have time for this. Adjusts the massive chunk of fresh kill slung over his shoulder—a clear and undeniable sign of superior mate potential—then looks at you.

Steps forward. Expression serious.

Message clear: Come. Cave. Now.

You consider it.

Then—

Geto.

Unlike the others, he does not fight for dominance. He does not lunge. He simply stands there.

Watching. Waiting. Silent as death.

His violet eyes flick between Nanami and Gojo before settling on you. He does not gesture. He does not speak.

Translation: You will come to me.

Unfortunately for him—Toji doesn’t do patience.

BOOM!!!

Toji body-slams Geto into the dirt. The impact is hard enough to shake the ground.

Geto grunts, visibly irritated, but Toji is already moving. He snarls at Nanami and swats a distracted Gojo aside like an irritating cave-fly, and then grabs your wrist.

Bad.

You react immediately, twisting away, but Toji’s grip is like iron. His eyes gleam with primal amusement.

He likes this. Likes that you fight. Likes that you are difficult.

Thinks he claimed the right one.

You will birth strong cubs.

Then the world grows impossibly quiet.

A deep, amused chuckle from the mountain path.

Sukuna is still not looking at the others.

Just at you.

He smirks and cracks his knuckles.

Danger. Immediate. Imminent. Inevitable.

Gojo, pulling himself up from the dirt, grunts.

Nanami exhales through his nose. Already done. Over it.

Geto, dusting himself off, glares.

Toji grins.

Gojo lunges. Arms wide, absolutely determined to be the one who drags you home like a victorious cryptid.

BLOCKED!!! AGAIN!!!

Nanami intercepts and swings his hunting club with the force of a father disappointed in all of humanity.

Gojo ducks, cackling—only for Geto to casually trip him with a well-placed foot.

Toji, sensing an opening, grabs you.

Bad move.

You bite him.

HARD .

He yelps. Actually yelps . Stares at you, deeply offended.

Sukuna, bored of watching, finally moves.

The air shifts. The others freeze. Then he snarls—a guttural, earth-rumbling sound that promises death.

They all turn on him at once.

You take the opportunity to run again. Sprinting through the thick foliage, heart pounding like a war drum.

Behind you pure, unfiltered male ego gone feral.

Gojo swings from tree to tree like a prehistoric monkey, whooping and laughing. “OOGH! OOGHAAA!” This is the best day of his life.

Nanami moves with hunter efficiency, gaze locked on you like you’re the most troublesome prey he’s ever pursued.

Geto is nowhere to be seen, which is worse because he is waiting, plotting. Probably already set a trap.

Toji’s laughing. He thinks this is a game.

And Sukuna is gaining.

You hop over a fallen tree trunk. Panting. Twisting. Dodging.

A hand grabs your ankle.

You kick it.

Hard .

Gojo yelps. “OOGH?!”

Suddenly—Geto’s arms snake around your waist. Secure. Steady. You barely have time to react before—

Toji, out of nowhere tackles him. Like a rival apex predator.

You fall —

Right into Nanami’s arms.

He sighs. Shakes his head like you’ve personally disappointed him on a spiritual level. Then, without a word, swings you over his shoulder.

“ Hmph .”

Gojo screeches. Sukuna grins. Toji growls.

The fight is not even close to be over.

Because the only thing stronger than a Neanderthal is his ego.

You are smart. You bite Nanami’s ass.

He gets startled and drops you.

You are fast. You immediately run.

You are not going down without a fight.

But the problem?

Nanami is faster.

You weave through trees. Vault over logs. Chuck random rocks behind you in a desperate attempt to slow the brute down. You dive into a bush, hoping to vanish like an endangered species.

Then—a strong hand grabs your ankle.

“OOGH.”

Translation: Bad Woman!

You shriek, kick, bite—anything to get away.

Then just swings you back over his shoulder like you’re a misbehaving sack of mammoth meat.

Not again.

“BOOGA.”

Translation: Come Cave, Baddie.

You screech. Twist like an eel. Sink your teeth into his shoulder.

Nanami does not flinch. He has suffered worse.

You grab his hair, yank —

He grunts. Approvingly .

Before you could grimace, Gojo, having recovered from his previous embarrassment, swings in from a tree like some kind of prehistoric tarzan.

Again.

“OOGA BOOGAAAH!”

Nanami side-steps.

Gojo slams face-first into a boulder.

(Instant death? Maybe. No time to check.)

Geto appears from the shadows, attempting a silent takedown.

Nanami, without looking, swings his club backward.

CRACK!!!

Geto crumples like a defeated cave possum.

Toji, the bigger problem , lunges in, all muscle and violence.

You cheer. “OHUAOFF!!”

Translation: Yes! Kill each other!

Nanami, unfazed, puts you down and ducks Toji’s first punch, sidesteps the second, then grabs his wrist and yeets him into the river.

Toji does not resurface. Natural selection.

Then, just as you think you're free—a new challenger approaches.

Sukuna’s eyes lock onto you. Hungry. Territorial.

Sukuna snarls, lunges—

Nanami does not argue; he simply knees him in the stomach mid-air.

Sukuna chokes on his own grunt, stunned—but he does not give up.

They brawl. Fists flying. Bodies colliding. Dirt flying as prehistoric dominance reaches its final showdown.

You, watching from the sidelines, are in awe.

Then—

Nanami grabs a massive rock and smashes it over Sukuna’s head.

Silence .

Sukuna drops. Unmoving.

Rocked out of existence by Nanami’s sheer caveman dominance.

One victor.

One mate.

You blink. Nanami dusts off his hands.

You take this moment to run.

Nanami sighs, like he expected this. He lets you go for a solid five seconds before simply jogging up behind you and grabbing you again. He holds you by the waist—grip unyielding, muscles flexing like they’ve been carved from stone.

“AUGHH.”

You start screaming. Flailing. Kicking, biting, pulling out all the stops. You summon every ounce of Homo sapien intellect you have left to escape this prehistoric grip.

You poke him in the eye.

Nanami grunts. Blinks once and gives you a single disappointed look.

Then, without hesitation—the club comes down.

BONK!!!

Slamming against your head like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Darkness.

You, unfortunately, have lost. To the superior Neanderthal.

You wake up in Nanami’s cave. Wrapped in Nanami’s furs. With Nanami’s large, muscled arm trapping you in place.

You blink at the fire crackling nearby.

Nanami, victorious, is already roasting meat over the fire like he didn’t just commit mass homicide for your affection.

He looks down at you.

And smirks .

“Booga.”

You groan. You have lost.

But what’s worse than losing?

The fact that Nanami smells really good.

Like, really good. Like moss and firewood and a hint of leather that somehow makes your brain forget all the reasons you hate being in his cave in the first place.

And as Nanami effortlessly flips the meat over the fire, his muscles glistening in the warm glow, you become acutely aware of just how broad he is—and suddenly, you realize:

It’s throbbing for him.

A/N: And there we have it! You survived the cavemen chaos! 🦖💥 This came to me while I was showering for some reason. I hope you enjoyed watching these ridiculously over-the-top Neanderthals fight for your attention. If you made it this far, you're either a true JJK brainrot survivor or just really into prehistoric aggression & questionable decisions (same). 😏 Don’t forget to leave a comment if you’re still laughing at Gojo’s tree-swinging antics or if you, too, are secretly falling for Nanami's primal charm. Also, who would you pick—cave buddy-wise? I’m personally Team Nanami, but we can all dream about the chaos of having them all, right? Reverse modern day patriarchal society by Reverse Herem, anyone?? Catch you in the next wild ride—maybe with fewer rocks to the head... or not. 🤷‍♀️ Stay strong, stay ridiculous, & remember: you’re the real apex predator here. 😈🖤

Next Chapter because ya'll loved it so much - Ooga Booga Gojo tries to Court you (Tumblr/Ao3)

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darknight3904 · 1 month ago

Text

Every Breath You Take

Chapter Thirteen- Under the Same Moon

Summary: You and Joel deal with the fallout of Nathan's actions

Warnings for this part: Canon typical violence, themes, language, gore, and horror. SA mention. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

Word Count: 4.4k

Previous Part / Series Masterlist / The Last of Us Masterlist

January 2014 Boston QZ

Boston's dreary sky stares at Joel as he walks quickly along the sidewalk. He hugs his coat tighter to his body as the cold air slices through the fabric and right into his aging bones.

Joel hasn’t felt this angry in a long time. He storms off towards your place, leaving you in Tess’s capable hands. You’re not staying at your fucking place anymore. He’ll be damned if he lets some fucking rapist hunt you down and hurt you in your own home.

Nathan. Nathan. Nathan. 5 '9 blonde hair, green eyes, tan skin. Probably Fedra. The moment Joel got his fucking hands on him he was going to—shit.

Joel hadn’t expected your apartment to be so…empty. The last time he’d seen it, it’d been fully furnished, paintings on the walls and a shitty record player in the corner. Now it was empty save for a nest of blankets and what looked like half a yoga mat. Three shirts hung in the closet along with two pairs of pants. Joel stuffs your only clothes into his bag, moving to survey the rest of the bare home.

He felt guilt build in his chest. You weren’t his to take care of but fuck, it felt like he should’ve done something for you. Empty cabinets, a single sleeve of stale saltine crackers, and a can of sardines is the only food you have. He finds a small stack of ration cards and shoves them into his back pocket.

You’d been with Tommy for ten years, Joel had known you as a teen, invited you into his home to watch his kid and here you were, twenty-nine and nearly starving, trying to sell yourself to make rent so you could avoid the shitty group homes the QZ had.

Sarah wouldn’t want anything to do with you.

Tommy’s words echo in his mind as Joel curses, you’d been his daughter's friend and at some point probably would’ve ended up his sister in law if his brother hadn’t jumped ship. Fuck, you were the last thing he had that was close to family here in Boston and he’d sat around, drinking and popping pills while you sold everything including yourself to get by. Tommy was right, Sarah wouldn’t want anything to do with him, not if he sat around and let you rot away in your apartment across town.

Joel slams the door to the apartment shut. Fedra can have your blanket nest and stale crackers; you were never coming back here, not if he had a say in it.

He returns home to you asleep on the couch again, Tess across from you, a worried look on her face. Joel drops the bag at one end of the couch, you can empty it out later. He looks down at you, your chest slowly rises and falls in your sleep. You’re practically swimming in the t-shirt he’d loaned you, something right out of his own closet.

“Gave her some painkillers.” Tess says, “She’ll probably be out til’ the afternoon.”

Joel nods; he doesn’t mind that Tess has dipped into their profits. Joel thinks the pain must’ve been awful as his mind replays the way your face had been scrunched up and your arms cradling your lower half.

“Listen, we need to talk to Chuck about finding a Plan B for her or something. And when she does wake up, I need you to convince her to check herself into one of those Fedra clinics.” Tess says

“How bad is it?” Joel hesitates for a moment, unsure if he really wants to know

“Could be worse. She’s got bruises on her torso, I’m more worried about the bleeding and the internal pain.” Tess says, her eyes drifting to you, “Shit, I don’t like her much but she doesn’t deserve any of this.”

“I’ll take her when she wakes up.” He grunts, “Drag er’ there if I have to.”

When you were 15, you broke your arm roller skating. It was a warm spring day, and school had just let out for Easter break. Your dad was inside, on an important work call and he and he’d told you a thousand times before to put the protective gear on before skating around the cul-de-sac. Of course, you’d ignored him, and ended up wiping out, landing hard on your side, right at the end of your driveway.

It wasn’t the fall that scared you, but rather the image of your arm being awkwardly bent at an odd angle. You’d started crying, the pain registering as soon as your eyes made contact with your limb. Struggling to stand back up on the skates, you yelled for your dad, hoping he’d hear you inside the house. Instead, the sound of a truck’s brakes squealing had you looking up.

Joel had just gotten off work, picking Sarah up from the school’s after-hours program, and he’d had a whole night planned. Hamburger Helper with apple juice for dinner, maybe a beer for him, then a movie he’d rented from Blockbuster, and finally, he’d tuck his kid into bed at precisely 9 pm. A good night's rest was important for his little girl.

What Joel hadn’t counted on was his new neighbor's kid being flat on her ass in her driveway, forearm twisted in a weird way while she cried for her dad, bright pink skates still on her feet. He’d pulled the keys from the ignition, telling Sarah to sit down on the porch before quickly jogging over to his neighbor.

“What the hell is goin’ on here?” He asks, approaching you

You’re sniffling, face scrunched up in pain as you look up at him, “Joel! Can you help me inside? M-My dad's on a work call.”

Joel nods, crouching down to pull the evil skates off your feet, tossing them into the grass as he looks at your arm closely, careful not to touch, as your nose wrinkles.

“Gonna need to go to the hospital for that one, kid.” He says

“You think it’s broken?” You ask sadly

“There’s a lump in your arm, I’m no doctor but you definitely knocked something loose in there.” He says

You mumble a curse under your breath.

“Watch your language.” He teases

This earns him a small smile, you wipe at your eyes, trying to get them to stop watering.

“Alright, up you go.”

Joel had just planned on pulling you up, no sense in picking you up, you weren’t a little kid. Perhaps it was just instinct for what he’d do if Sarah was in your position, he found himself lifting you up, arms hooked under your legs and wrapped securely around your shoulders.

“C’mon let's go get your old man.” He says

Your father is frantic, instantly hanging his phone up when he sees Joel holding you, you cradling your arm close to your chest. Joel helps you into the car and promises to lock the front door for your dad as your little car jets down the road.

Joel watches the car disappear down the road, taking a right at the stop sign in the direction of the local hospital. Sarah stands next to him, her little hand wrapped around his as she looks up at him.

“Daddy, why’re you making that face?” She asks

“No reason.” Joel says, ruffling her hair, “Just…don’t like seein’ our neighbor in pain like that. Makes me wonder what I’d do if you were hurt like that.”

Sarah glances across the yard to your home, “Well then I won’t roller skate. Ever.”

Joel laughs, picking her up. “Sounds like a plan, babygirl.”

The walk to the clinic is a slow, agonizing one. Joel walks slowly next to you, his eyes fixed on the passersbys just in case someone who looked like Nathan happened to stumble by. If he were smart, he’d skip town before Joel was able to get his hands on him. No person deserved to call himself a man if he hurt a girl like that.

Joel waits for you in the little waiting room, plastic chair groaning if he shifts too much in it. Hopefully he doesn’t end up on his ass if this chair decides to break into a million pieces.

You’re quiet on the walk back, eyes fixed on the sidewalk as he matches your pace.

“Listen,” he says, “You’re gonna be stayin with me n’ Tess from now on.”

You open your mouth to protest, but Joel puts his hand up, cutting you off.

“Already got your stuff from your apartment. I can’t sit around and let you starve to death, my brother would tan my hide if he found out how you were livin’, sleepin’ on the floor and eating like a damn bird.”

You scoff, bitter and angry, “Tommy doesn’t give a shit about me or you. Why else do you think he ran off? He’s tired of us.”

Maybe you’re right Tommy might not give a shit anymore but Joel does. He won’t say it aloud, but he doesn’t want you living in that grim apartment, unable to make ends meet, starving as you sell yourself off to men. Maybe it's whatever is left of his fatherly instincts, but he can’t help but see you the way you used to be back in Texas. The kid of the single dad next door, maybe you and your dad were some older version of him and Sarah, a version Joel never got to see thanks to the universe’s shitty plans.

Maybe in another life, he got to see Sarah graduate from high school; she was brilliant, Joel was sure she would’ve gotten some fancy full ride to some big-time university. If he closes his eyes he can imagine moving her into her dorm, lofting the bed and sweating his ass off trying to help her organize all the shit she packed into his truck bed. Eventually, he’d watch her walk the stage at college graduation, a few more greys in his hair, eyes squinting at the program trying to find her in the M section. She’d have her degree in hand, smiling for the camera, something he’d never pursued in the interest of caring for her after her mom ran off. Of course, even if she never did any of those things, Joel would’ve been proud; he loved her no matter what she got into.

Joel coughs, itching a nonexistent itch at the back of his neck, snapping himself out of his thoughts. Too many what ifs, he’s getting stuck in delusion. Dwelling on Sarah was useless, she didn’t get to college or high school graduation, never even got out of Austin that fucking night,

“Tommy doesn’t matter right now. You’re stayin’ with me till’ you’re healed and back on your feet.” He coughs out, hoping you can’t see the tear that’s escaping the waterline of his eye.

“Fine,” You relent, “Did you at least grab all my clothes?”

“You mean all three shirts and pants?” He asks

You give him a glare, which he ignores.

“What’d the doc say?” Joel changes the subject, hoping whatever has happened isn’t too bad.

“I’ll be fine. Just need bed rest, and to take these twice a day.” You say, shaking a little bottle with blue pills inside, “She said I should eat more, too. Oh she gave me one of those birth control pills so you and Tess don’t gotta worry bout’ trading shit for one for me.”

You pause for a moment, unsure of continuing, and Joel nudges you, “Give me everything.”

“No uh, sex for six weeks, I’ll spare you the details, but it’s uh messy down there right now. Nothing life-threatening, just like some internal…tares, I guess you could say.”

Joel nods, he doesn’t need details. The moment Joel meets him, Nathan is a dead man either way.

“Let’s get you home then.” He grunts

Somewhere in the Midwest United States…

Tommy sighs deeply. Today has been a long one. Too many infected to count, not to mention a few of the others were sick with some cold that was going around. He lay in his sleeping bag, head propped up by his backpack; at least he wasn’t on patrol tonight.

His mind wandered at times like this, when the day had ended and the quiet lull of nighttime fell over his companions. As usual, his mind drifted to you. He wondered what you spent your days doing. Probably still working at the orphanage. He wondered if you ever talked to Joel or Tess, you’d been so uninterested in their smuggling, the chances were low.

Tommy hoped Joel was checking in on you, making sure you were okay. Jealousy swarmed in his chest as he thought of his brother caring for you. Of course, maybe you’d moved on, entirely forgotten about the stupid Tommy Miller who ditched you for a dream.

Yeah, somehow that seemed worse than Joel hanging around you. Tommy stares up at the moon, brilliant white looks back at him. He wonders if you’re awake right now, too, staring up at the same moon, wondering what has happened to him. He runs a hand over his face, to no avail trying to swallow the sadness that wells in his chest whenever he thinks of you, fuck he misses you.

2017 Boston QZ

Life wasn’t so bad with Joel and Tess. Sure, they were both early risers, waking you up by rummaging around the apartment and talking just a bit too loud, but overall you couldn’t complain.

Nearly three years after you’d moved in, you were still here, curled up like a happy cat on your little cot Joel had found for you after claiming the couch “wasn’t a good bed”. You watched sleepily as Joel sat at the table, counting pills out into a little ziploc, Tess’s voice filling the air as she talked about what Bill and Frank needed from the QZ.

Joel’s eyes fall to you as he notices you shift under the blankets, “You ever gonna get up? Gotta be out before the sun rises.”

“Yes, sir.” You grumble, untangling the sheets from your legs, righting yourself.

Normally you were content with letting Tess and Joel handle all the deals with the actual people, you’d count shit for them and keep a little written record of who owed them what. But, today was special after Joel handed that bag off to whatever Fedra grunt wanted it, you were all headed to Bill and Frank's.

You loved leaving the QZ behind for the sleepy little town of Lincoln. Most of all though, you liked getting to see the two guys that lived there. Sure, Bill was a total hardass who regularly told you that you were in the way, but Frank made amazing conversation and even better paintings. Oh of course there was the fact that Bill’s cooking was to die for, he might be the meanest man alive but he made a damn good meal.

“Don’t forget to double up on socks this time.” Tess reminds you as you slip into the bathroom

Jesus, those two, always hovering like concerned parents.

Tess had a certain soft spot, you realized it during your first week in their home. She wasn’t the total bitch you’d imagined while you were still with Tommy. Sure, it was her way or the highway most days, but she wasn’t that bad. You suppose she also liked the extra cards you brought to the table, your payment from the orphanage had helped supply your home with shit you didn’t technically need but it made life more comfortable. For example, the watermelon-scented body wash you’d traded for was your new favorite thing.

You pull the curtain shut on your little corner of the apartment. It was a few sheets that Joel had rigged up on some rope, nothing fancy, but at least it was some privacy. You’d ask him to help you after you dropped your socks into the toilet, trying to get changed while he sat on the couch one morning. Now, your sheet covered corner was your little oasis away from the world.

You’re like 99% sure Tess and Joel are fucking. You’ve never caught them with their pants down (literally), but you’d definitely seen them emerge from the bedroom together, messy hair and heavy chests to match. They didn’t seem like they were actual romantic partners, though. They never kissed or hugged in front of you, the most you’d seen was Tess patting Joel’s back one day. Although they seemed to like to spoon a lot, you’d peered into their bedroom one early morning and seen it, who knew Joel would be the little spoon?

You snicker at the thought of big, bad, Joel Miller cuddling up to someone half a foot shorter than him.

“Quit laughing and’ get dressed.” Joel's stern voice called

The downside to your sheet oasis was that it wasn’t soundproof.

The hike to Lincoln got easier each time you did it. You learned to love the way the sun felt on your face and the way the clean air smelled as it filled your lungs. Your eyes were fixed ahead as you walked beside Joel, Tess, a few feet ahead of both of you.

“You think Frank will have that painting done for me this time?” You ask

“Maybe.” Joel grunts

God, he was a terrible conversation partner. Did Tommy inherit all the people skills or something? Joel was so fucking boring sometimes it made you want to die.

“What’s that look? Your feet hurting again? Tess told ya’ to wear two pairs of socks.” Joel scolds

“Ugh, no!” You roll your eyes, “I have the socks on I swear. Was just thinking about how your brother is better at making conversation.”

“Yeah, well, he ain’t here,” Joel grumbles

You’re tired of him talking to you like you’re the same teenager he used to be neighbors with. You were 34 now, and Joel definitely still saw you as some kid who didn’t know her left from right.

“You ever wonder what the hell Tommy’s been doin’ all this time?” You ask

“Livin’ somewhere out in Wyoming last I spoke to him.” Joel says

“Gotcha—Wait, spoke to him?” You stop him, grabbing his forearm to prevent him from taking another step, “When the hell did you talk to him? Was he back in Boston?”

“Nah, radio. Left the Fireflies bout’ a year ago too.” Joel says, pulling his arm free

“And you didn’t think to tell me this?” You ask

“Thought you’d let him go. Saw ya with that guy, what’s his name?” Joel says, “Sides’ Tommy isn’t that interesting anymore

“Wyatt? We’re just friends.” You say quickly

Joel blows a raspberry with his lips, “Better tell him that, kid.”

Joel starts walking away from you, long legs taking big strides that you have to work double time to catch up to.

“Stop calling me that.” You groan

Loud whoops of happy kids filled the halls of the orphanage. Tomorrow was Christmas, which meant no school for them. You and Ophelia were slowly working your way down a hallway, mopping the old linoleum. As you turn the corner, pushing your bucket along, a kid runs into you, the sudsy water tips over, splashing all over the peeling floor.

“Hey!” You groan, “Watch where you’re going.”

“Fuck…” The kid groans, rubbing her tailbone from her place on the ground

You right the bucket, a deep sigh leaving your lips as you stare down at all the water. Ophelia is already complaining about the mess from where she is twenty feet behind you. You glance down at the girl you ran into, her dark hair is pulled into a short ponytail, choppy bangs falling over her face as she glares up at you.

“You alright?” You ask

“Fine.” She grumbles

Great. A kid with an attitude.

You watch her walk off down the hall, converse squeaking as she walks over your hard work. You curse her out in your mind, wishing you knew her name so you could complain to whatever officer was incharge of her.

“That's the second time that kids have done shit like that.” Ophelia says, “Gonna complain about her after our shift ends.”

“How?” You snort, “We don’t even know her name.”

“It’s Ellie. Heard some other girl say it to her a few weeks ago, after she accidentally tipped over a full garbage can cuz’ she tripped over her untied shoelaces.” Ophelia reports

“Ellie.” You mumble, “Ellie, Ellie.”

Oh you were definitely reporting her clumsy ass.

The first time you talk to Tommy, it's unbearably awkward. The two of you spend three full minutes discussing the weather. He won’t tell you where in Wyoming he is, just that it’s apparently cloudy there. You don’t tell him about Nathan, he doesn’t need to know.

It’d take a few weeks for you to gather the courage to speak to him, eventually psyching yourself up to beg Joel to let you talk to him. Now you owe Boston’s grumpiest smuggler the next bag of coffee you came across.

“So uh. You seein’ anyone?” Tommy asks

“We have five minutes on the radio, and you wanna talk new partners?” You ask incredulously

“I’ll take that as a no.” Tommy says

You can practically hear his smirk through the little speakers in front of you.

“Fuck off. How do you know I’m not just workin’ on myself?” You ask

“Cuz’ I know you, you think you’re inherently perfect.” Tommy says

“Alright fine, you caught me.”

You want to ask Tommy if he’s seeing anyone, Joel said he was living with some group of people, perhaps one had caught his eye. You never do, instead you blabber about the Ellie issue you faced a week ago, an officer dragging her to apologize to you and Ophelia for interfering with your work. For a ten year old she caused a lot of problems.

Tommy found that amusing, just like you anticipated, his warm laughter crackling over the speakers and filling your heart up.

Sometimes you wondered if you’d ever really be able to move on from him. He’d been your first real boyfriend after all. Late at night you’d lay surrounded by your sheets for walls and started up at the ceiling, wondering what he was doing with his time now. Did he ever think of coming back to Boston? To his brother? To you? Perhaps he thought there was nothing left for him here.

You bury your face in the pillow, wrapping your arms around your body trying to replicate the feeling of him wrapped around you. You missed the days you used to spend in the Pennsylvania countryside. When baby cries where your only real problem in life.

A sigh slips out of your lips as you listen to Joel and Tess’s hushed mumbles from their bedroom. You wondered what they talked about late at night. It always seemed to be all about business with them. Perhaps they were gossiping about you, or maybe Tess was telling Joel to quit leaving the toilet seat up before she falls in. You really hoped it was the latter, that man had a problem, living with two women and constantly leaving the seat up.

Tess kept a careful eye on Joel and you. It’s not like she didn’t know who you were, she trusted you enough to keep your mouth shut about the whole smuggling business. She just couldn’t help it, she hated the way he looked at you.

Joel reminded her of some gruff bear while you might as well be some wounded baby deer he found out in the cold and brought into his den. It’s not like she was going to turn you out now, you were actually pretty helpful around the apartment, cleaning and cooking not to mention the once in a blue moon help you supplied for deals. Three sets of hands was always better than two.

She swore up and down it wasn’t jealousy. It couldn’t be, not when she and Joel weren’t…well she barely knew what the hell they were, but still, she wasn’t jealous.

It’s just that he was always fucking staring.

He’d filled her in on your shared past, told her all about how you used to be neighbors and shit. Tess just wished he wasn’t always hovering over you the way he did. At first she’d thought it was some paternal thing, a way to connect with that dead kid of his, the one he mumbles in his sleep about. Then, she’d caught him one day, holding a shirt of yours to his nose, chest slowly rising as he took a deep inhale, his shoulders visibly loosening as he did. That was the day she realized it wasn’t some surrogate father situation, even if Joel tried his hardest to make it that way, calling you kid and reminding you about brushing your teeth.

She was guilty of it too, telling you shit like you were some kid in need of mothering, she just couldn’t help it sometimes, you were just so damn forgetful. How you survived out on the road surprised her everytime she thought about it too hard. Tommy and Joel were some damn good body guards.

Tess watched as Joel moved slowly around the bedroom. His nightly routine was the same each night.

“So…her and that Wyatt guy, you think they’re fucking?” Tess asks, watching Joel carefully

His shoulders tighten, freezing for a moment before he goes back to unbuttoning his dark green shirt. “What makes you think that?”

“Well today while you were out at work, I stopped here, needed to piss before my shift started and the two of them were here, chatting it up in the kitchen.”

Joel looks at her for a moment, slipping a dark blue t-shirt on, his face disappearing for a second, “Doesn’t mean they’re together.”

Tess snorts, “They’re 34, they’re not celibate nuns, Joel.”

Joel sighs, like the weight of the world is on his shoulders, climbing into bed beside her. Tess can tell she’s gotten under his skin. Yeah, it’s definitely not platonic, at least not on his side. She had no idea what ran through your head,

“She can do whatever she wants. I ain’t her dad.”

No, you’re not.

That’s what she wants to say, call him out for ogling his brother's ex, they’d taken out of the goodness of whatever was left of their hearts. Instead, Tess agrees, switching the lamp on her nightstand off, plunging the room into darkness.

Next Part

Season Finale tonight, then we gotta wait 2+ years for more...

Fyi, I'm writing Nathan's death scene right now. It's quite fun.

Comment to be added to the tag list. This tag list is not chapter by chapter; I carry the tags over to each part.

@freythecrazyfae @rae-gar-targaryen @keseqna @eniepascal @jakecockley @aphroditesblunt @soberbabes @daisyhams

@h0neylemon @womenlover0 @ghostofseattle @endurexxsurvive

@ashhlsstuff

#joel miller #tommy miller #joel miller x reader #tommy miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #joel miller x female reader #fanfic #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x you #jackson joel x reader #pedro pascal #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller slow burn #gabriel luna #joel miller angst #tommy miller angst

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reds-skull · 9 months ago

Text

Fanfic Recommendation: Multi-Chapter (Completed)

The comic I'm working on is taking... a long time (understatement of the year, been working on it since July 31st...) so I wanted to make another post like this

Like last time, there's no shared theme between these beside having multiple chapters and being completed (both SFW and NSFW)

As always please check the tags for CWs, and if a link doesn't work you're welcome to reach out!

Every Morning by sauceboss_yahoo - Ghost is back on base with the rest of the 141, ready to fall into his usual routine. Someone else, however, is itching to be a part of it and wants to peel back the curtain concealing him more than he already has, whether Ghost likes it or not.

Mask of my own face by Avidcatperson - Ghost takes great offence to the implication that he’s going to eat his cell mate, who is clearly sentient, with his bare hands. Soap is fairly sure he’s about to die. Chucked into a cell with a human? Pretty much a death sentence…hopefully Gaz can get out at least. [Space AU, multiple works in this series!]

bare my skin by Cristinuke - A study of moments as Ghost learns to trust Soap's touch.

Anomalous by Brigadier - Ghost, a SCP-056, finds a certain human worthy of his love, trust and adoration.

let these hills absolve me by flowersferns - When the news of three weeks’ forced leave reaches Ghost, he’s resigned himself to loneliness in an empty base. That is, until a certain Sergeant offers him an invitation he just can’t seem to refuse. Or: the sheep farming fic nobody asked for [this one hurts so bad but comforts so well]

Punch Drunk by Drolly - If you told Soap the second time he’d see Ghost’s face was in a shitty bar on a shittier block of Chicago… Well, he might have asked for a little more pomp and circumstance. At least then he’d have an excuse for the way he could hear his blood pumping faster in his ears and why he could feel it, hot and burning behind his eyes.

Simon's Gateway by wayfaredsoldier - When things get too rough on retired soldier Simon, his friends help him out and unknowingly provide him a gateway to something, or someone, beautiful. [veteran support hotline operator Soap]

A Bit Too Much by cod_dump - Soap always acts confidently, brave. Almost always has a smile on his face. But the fact is… He’s a bit too much. [locked for non-AO3 users]

Until The Nightfall by Mikhail - Upon realizing their friendship had grown into something deeper and more serious, Ghost is left torn between duty and longing. With each mission, Ghost is reminded of all the things he can't control, and it's becoming clear that this - whatever it is - he has with Soap, just might be one of them.

Philematology by ErlKönig (Herm_own_ninny) - Ghost kisses Soap while begrudgingly playing spin the bottle, and tries to repeat it with other party games.

stick up by amongthebooks - While off base, the 141 are unexpectedly caught up in a robbery. The raiders clock Soap, Gaz and Price as SAS operatives…but without his usual gear, Ghost was seen as just another guy. His team is rounded up, whilst he's treated as a civilian. Can Ghost take down the attackers and rescue his team without exposing his identity?

I Will by lemonwrap - After going missing on a mission, Soap has been gone for an entire year. Ghost finally rescues him, but he’s not quite the same.

The Worthy Vessel by MildLimerence - To take the edge off his maddening attraction to his aloof and inscrutable Lieutenant, Soap decides to try his luck with the local barflies off base. To prevent Soap from fucking anyone else but him, Ghost offers himself up under the guise of mutual stress relief. Soap thinks he’s just taking one for the team, but Ghost has just had everything he’s ever wanted fall right into his lap.

Damaged Goods by Red_Clegane - After an encounter at a club, Soap needs to know if he's actually into men… like into men. In a fit of desperation and homoerotic panic, he arranges a one night stand with a prostitute. It was just supposed to be a one off arrangement. But when Ghost shows up, it sets a series of events into motion that neither men could have predicted. [locked for non-AO3 users]

They Blame it on the Times by WildFlowerSolitude - "We were never anything. You need to get that through your head." Soap laughs hollowly into the empty corridor. I can live with that OR Ghost says some fucked up shit and Soap crumbles.

home is where the heart is by Anonymous - Soap vanishes from base one day. The Captain says its nothing to be concerned about. Ghost disagreed. [literally so so good]

Personal Affairs by sannikovs_bastard_son - Ghost got injured on a mission in Spain and was forced to take a temporary leave, leading to some buried feelings being brought to light, and Soap doesn't make his inner turmoil any easier by being the casual flirt he is.

Tug A Little Harder by puffyfish2006 - Ghost really really really likes Soap's long hair.

Burned and Broken, but Not Beaten by sick_of_sleep - Ghost ends up burning his hand pretty badly and Soap help his lieutenant while it heals. But Soap ends up helping Ghost in more ways than one.

Lofticries by Arodana - The mafia had always escaped John "Soap" MacTavish. No matter what evidence he found, it would disappear. For lack of words, it pissed him off. On top of that, he has to find a serial killer that has been evading the police and any efforts they've made for months. Soap finds himself stuck between his sense of justice when he is offered an opportunity to work with the one man that had been making his police career a living hell. Soap might just get what he wants.

Freely Given by Tatzelwurm - After the stress and danger of Los Almas and Chicago, Soap is finding it near impossible to let go and relax. He can’t sleep, jumping at shadows. Ghost wants to help him, dutiful lieutenant that he is. But Soap can’t bear to take any more from Ghost than he already has. At least, not without feeling exceedingly guilty about it.

Hold my hair up, Darlin (Ice packs on my neck) by JackiboysHorrorHouse - a fic where Soap's wisdom teeth end up having to be removed when he's in the 141, and ghost is the one who takes care of him during recovery!

Misplaced Jealousy by dyn42ty - Soap hinted that he had been crushing on someone within the base to Gaz. Overhearing the conversation, Ghost wonders who has Soap captivated. Not to mention it wasn't him? The more he thought about it, the more angry he had gotten.

lotus flower by exavibus - a new flower shop opens across the street from 141 Tattoo, in london's shoreditch district. one of the florists already seems to have something against him. the feeling's mutual.

Cry by kcisbroken - Ghost always leaves. After an intimate night together, Ghost picks up his things and doesn't look back, leaving Soap to sit in silence and ponder on whether or not it's worth breaking his heart over and over again.

i'm a fire and i'll keep your brittle heart warm by marviless - Soap spends three and a half days in Ghost's house after getting injured on a mission.

used to hide behind a mask by kj_crwn - What a pitiful thought; the scary hound of 141 force turned into a pliant mess by one simple man. “’Bout your scary mug,” Johnny clarifies, as expected. He leans down again and settles against Ghost’s chest, his head resting just beneath Ghost’s chin. “Yer a bloody gorgeous lad, Simon.” Except that Johnny is anything but simple.

We Are Ghost by Murmeloni - Instead of having to crawl out of his own grave, Simon escapes Roba's clutches with the help of Ghost. A klyntar stranded on earth who decided to make Simon his new home. The two of them were content with each other. Until they met Johnny.

Emergency Contact by soapsbeloved - John MacTavish is about as unlucky in love as you could get, never finding someone that would give him enough of a chance for a second date, resorting to sleeping around when he gets stood up. Simon, his best friend, seems to be the only person in the world willing to give Soap a chance, but the dumbass can’t see past the fact that Ghost isn’t very good at talking about things, and is completely and utterly oblivious to how Ghost feels about him.

dicentra by crown_twist - There's someone new joining the 141 and everyone is happy about it. So happy, in fact, that they don't seem to realize one of them is slowly slipping away. Johnny's only all too aware. [I reread this one so many times it's the ultimate hurt Soap fic]

and i wish i could change by SoftKing - Which meant he also noticed when Ghost frowned heavily and murmured, “Not really my thing.” “Oh,” Gaz said with his brows raised. “So you haven’t got one then.” He slapped Price on the shoulder and grinned. “I do.” Ghost interrupted, taking another long sip from his nearly empty glass. “Just think they’re rubbish.” [soulmates AU]

Night Has Always Pushed Up Day by Sillililli - Simon "Ghost" Riley is stuck in a shared hospital room, which has been fine up until then. He'd been alone, alone to fight the shame of having his face uncovered and having failed his team. But they bring someone into his space, a younger soldier, temporarily blind.

Domestic by Sillililli - Simon and John are coworkers. Both ex military, they relate in ways others can't. Soap is facing hard times at home and finds a safe place with Simon.

So Call Me Maybe? by cripplingchips - Ghost is trying to focus on the mission at hand when Soap starts getting a little… strange.

A Kiss For Luck by iamtheidiot - Soap and Ghost start playing gay chicken.

Mission: Cardsharp by nyxite - Soap (accidentally) gets a love reading from a fortune teller.

death is in the air (wish i could be brave) by aetherealmoss - Ghost gets injured severely and is sad and upset about it, until Soap appears at his doorstep and makes it better.

My frozen heart (would melt just for you) by Red_Clegane - After a mission goes wrong in Russia, Soap has to patch Ghost up... and keep him from freezing. Huddled together in a tiny cabin in the middle of the frozen tundra, something warm blossoms. [locked for non-AO3 users]

demolitions threat by amongthebooks - Home on leave, Soap has to instruct Ghost on how to disarm a bomb over the phone. The pair make a good team - but not every mission can end well. Ghost has dug himself out of his grave once already. Can he do it again?

i'm something else when i see you by oh_ellie - The first time Ghost had enough courage to plant his lips against Soap’s they’d both been drinking. They're fairly heavily intoxicated.

In the Middle of the Night by JDigital - “Go!” Came his Sergeant’s gruff exclamation as he threw his elbow into the Shadow’s face, an alarming amount of blood still soaking through his clothes. “Get out of here, go!” A few Shadows stopped their assault on Ghost’s cover to subdue their captive, and he was forced to watch as Soap was brought to his knees by a cruel strike of the stock of one of their rifles. “Ghost, move! Get out of here!”

Racing hearts season by Nuria123 - The F1 COD AU no one asked for SoapGhost style.

Through His Eyes by WhisperedWords12 - Ghost accidentally finds Soap’s sketchbook, is taken aback when he sees a familiar face looking back at him.

Peeping John. by A_BitOfStrange - When he considers it properly, the only person that would be either brave or stupid enough to go into Ghost's room while he’s away would be Johnny. The little fucking shit.

Surviving You by WhisperedWords12 - Ghost forced himself not to feel frustrated, had to admit to himself that Soap might be the most challenging sub he had ever had assigned into one of his units.

Yours Sincerely by LeoDoesGames - Johnny "Soap" MacTavish has been medically discharged following a mission gone wrong, which left him with severe agoraphobia and PTSD. He joins a programme which connects both active service members and veterans through the act of writing letters. Although things get off to a bad start, the connection he forms with his letter mate slowly becomes unbreakable. That is until he gets too close and strikes a nerve. [one of those fics that will not leave your brain for weeks]

Doing Time by MildLimerence - Soulmate AU: On leave from the 141, Soap lands himself in Strangeways prison, home to some of the worst criminals in the UK. When his soulmark activates on the inside, Soap must contend with Ghost, an infamous soulmate-hating killer who seems intent on haunting his every move.

Spiorad agus Corp by Oud_smoker420 - A bet is made between the notoriously reckless Soap and Alejandro to try and get their respective crushes and the most stoic and traumatized men of the 141 in their beds. It definitely has the potential to go so bad.

Smooth Sailing on Choppy Water by coderaven - Soap and Ghost are sent on a mission to the middle of American suburbia to protect a Russian journalist targeted by Makarov. Their cover is that they're newlyweds. And very much in love.

Bathe in Sunlight, Take Deep Breaths by coderaven - Ghost gets honorably discharged after taking a bullet to his shoulder that completely obliterates his rotator cuff and leaves him with nerve damage. He joins a gym to help with his recovery. He meets Soap, ray of sunshine personified, a trainer at the gym. He falls pathetically in love.

Learning Experience by AvaLoren - Soap is forced into a simulated interrogation with his Lieutenant and the information he learns about him isn't what he expected.

If tomorrow you don't open your eyes by Swiftwater_Prawn - Ghost loves Soap but is bad at feelings and gets stuck in a time loop. [multiple works in this series!]

Collecting Strays by WhisperedWords12 - Ghost didn't trust Soap, couldn't know for certain what a year and a half of forced fighting in the pits did to something as volatile as a Wolf. But Price insisted that the man may have valuable intel, might be enough to finally bring down the Fighting Ring where they'd found him.

Driving Myself Home by Aether_Ghoul - Gaz insisted that he was just the thing for Soap. Soap insisted that everyone had a "but" and for the life of him, Gaz wouldn't tell him what this Simon guys "but" was.

all that's said in the low light by headlocket - After a near-fatal injury, John MacTavish finds himself back in his hometown in Scotland. Fresh off an untimely discharge, he's forced to cope with disability, his dysfunctional family, and the lingering knowledge that there are some things he's just not ready to leave behind… [literally if you haven't read this yet what are you doing with your life]

Lay back and think of England by Aether_Ghoul - From the outside, Ghost is well adjusted. He seems like everything recruits and rookies could ever wish to be. Inwardly, he is falling apart. It is when Soap asks him to spend their leaves together, that he makes a decision that will haunt him. Do everything Johnny wants, needs or dreams of because if Ghost is useful, maybe Johnny will finally love him. [this is another one I keep going back to T_T]

Our Time Is Right Now by ChaoticEmeline - A serial killer is making their mark on the newly installed crime factions in London. Smart, savvy, and undetectable in a city covered in CCTV. The man operates…like a ghost. Captain John Price and his team aren't afraid to get their hands dirty and do a little ghost hunting. But what happens when the ghost starts hunting them back?

Spectre-Unit by Zosch - The Spectre-Unit was a task force shrouded in mystery, not much was known about them and it was a rare occasion to witness one of their members in action. Until the Task Force 141 gained a new addition; S-U: 25, John "Soap" MacTavish.

Velocity Of Envy by leathfaic - Soap has a friend with benefits back home in Glasgow and Ghost, Ghost doesn't have a problem with it of course. After all, Johnny is his sergeant and anything else would be unprofessional, wouldn't it?

Crystalline by Sillililli - Soap and Ghost end up captured at the same time and as much as they'd like to save each other, they can't let their captors know they could be used against each other. Easily. Simon concocts a plan to save them that he can't let Johnny in on, hoping the lie won't shatter what little is left of them when it's over.

#call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #fic recs #not art #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #page 110 #<<ignore that I need this for next time lmao #60 fics like last time #not even halfway through the list rip #when I tell you its long af...#welp back to the comic it is

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tkomptgoedluv · 7 months ago

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a burning hill.

icantbelieveiletyougetaway pt.2

pt.1 here | pt.2 | pt.3 here | pt.4 here

joost klein x f! reader

tags: f! reader, non-famous! reader, reader still really needs to see a therapist, established friendship, joost has always been down bad and no one is surprised, quite angsty, lots of comfort, all characters are dutch and speak in dutch but dialogue is written in english for obvious reasons.

word count: 2,495.

warnings: references to SA, detailed mentions of non-specific mental illness, rpf.

notes: pt. 2 is finally here! i’m sorry it’s taken so long and thank you all for waiting <3 — i really can’t tell if i hate this part or not. it feels both dragged out and rushed, but i wanted to add more backstory to their relationship and leave a half-open ending incase anyone wants a pt.3. i apologise if it’s awful. enjoy! 💋

── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ──

you hated hospitals.

you weren’t quite sure why, it wasn’t like you’d ever spent enough time in one to actually form your own opinion until now.

but you did. you really, really did. they were too cold and the lights were too harsh, you couldn’t stand all the bare white walls, and seeing so many sick people all together made you feel nauseous. especially the older ones — if it wasn’t for the steady beats of their heart monitors, you would’ve assumed that they were already dead.

you weren’t like them; you weren’t sick. if it wasn’t for joost and his promise of buying you a pack of your favourite cigs, you never would’ve come here. you were the type to take a few ibuprofens and carry on as if nothing was wrong, as if simply taking a couple steps around your living room wasn’t enough to make you cry.

as it turns out though, that actually would’ve made things a whole lot worse for you.

apparently you needed a lot of different stitches in a lot of different places from how badly he had torn you up. the doctor even praised you for coming in when you did, saying that you could’ve died from several different infections had you left it all untreated. you tried not to let yourself think about that for too long.

the good news however, was that it was all an easy fix somehow. the stitching, whilst absolutely horrible, didn’t take longer than an hour or so and you were given just enough painkillers to last until all the bruising goes away. really, not a lot of time had passed before you were being discharged with a stack of leaflets all advertising local therapists. you chucked them into the very first bin that you saw.

you fucking hated hospitals.

it was snowing again by the time you made it out of the main doors, small specks of white collecting in your hair and wetting your eyelashes. you loved the cold and especially the snow, but it was something that you really could’ve gone without right now. the cold that consumed you only worsened each ache and pain that you felt, from the tops of your shoulders all the way down to your knees.

you were already shivering by the time you reached joost. he had perched himself on a nearby bench, a cigarette in one hand and what looked like a paper bag of pastries in the other. it brought a toothless smile to your face, the kind that could actually reach your eyes, when you realised that he still remembered.

it had been three years ago that you had first met joost and the rest of the group; two and half since that day. you hadn’t seen it coming, not when you had been doing so much better than you ever had before. you were going out more and socialising, eating better, and staying on top of the little things like the dishes and laundry. for once you actually felt human and not like just some basket case.

you weren’t ready to wake up that one morning, a fine layer of frost dusted across your bedroom window, and feel like you couldn’t move. you laid there and watched the sun fight to be seen until it dipped below the skyline, leaving you to wallow in the dark, alone. you’d ignored every buzz of your phone until they eventually stopped, and still cried when they did. you cried until your eyes grew heavy, having worn yourself out beyond the point of staying awake.

when a quick knock at the door had woken you up from your sleep, you ignored it like everything else. you curled up further in on yourself and prayed that whoever it was would just give up and leave you be, that they would walk away and let you rot in the sanctity of your own bed. it was there that you listened to their knocks slowly turn desperate until they stopped, only to be followed by the sound of your spare key turning in the lock.

as light flooded in from the hallway, the open door engulfing your small studio in shades of orange and yellow, you heard your own name break the silence.

“psst, hey it’s me, it’s joost. are you home?”

you cried again, right then and there at the sound of his voice.

with your whole entire heart you adored all of your friends but with joost it was just…different. it was on the very first day of that music festival you’d bumped into him, oblivious to who he was and how he was one of the names on the lineup. he still wishes that you could’ve seen the look on your face when he took you backstage, letting you watch his show from the wings. after that, the two of you had more or less been glued at the hip.

for seventy-two hours straight, you had spent every minute with him and the rest of his friends. they all welcomed you in with open arms, and for whatever reason seemed to love you almost as much as he did. stuntje was already referring to you as his ‘little sister’ by the third day, and nathan was set on making you a permanent fixture in the group.

but you were still you, though. the more everyone pushed to get to know you, the more of an effort you made to keep them all at an arm’s length — for both your sake and theirs. except you never really could with joost, and now he was there, fumbling around in your living room as he tried to make a beeline for you in the dark.

no one had heard from you in two days.

what had felt like mere hours, a single afternoon at most, had been two days. that was why he was there with you, sat on the edge of your bed with a hand rubbing your back, begging for you to talk to him. when you wouldn’t, he offered you the compromise of at least joining him for breakfast and revealed a small bag of pastries before you could say no.

“i had a feeling you’d be hungry; call it a mother’s intuition.”

through all of the tears and snot, he’d made you laugh. it was weak and hoarse, and made the very back of your throat burn, but it was still a laugh. joost had taken it as a yes and helped you sit up, fully committing to the bit and ‘mothering’ you in every way that he knew how, like slipping his own hoodie over your head the very second he saw you shiver.

it was like that you had sat and ate each and every single one of the pastries with him, and later forgave him for all of the crumbs you were still finding in your bed a week later.

and now here he was, almost three years later, clutching yet another bag of those pastries in his hand. you became thankful for the snow when your eyes began to turn red and water, your bottom lip starting to tremble ever so slightly. you could blame it on the cold then, blame it on something rational like a snowflake getting in your eye instead of admitting that you were crying over croissants.

“hey! how was -” joost almost slipped on a patch of ice when you near-enough tackled him, burying your face in his chest as you wrapped your arms around his middle. the sheer force of it knocked the cigarette from his other hand; he seemed not to notice. “hey…you good?”

a cold hand cradled the back of your head, his fingers gently scratching the back of your scalp.

“you remembered the pastries.”

even as the words were still coming out, they felt silly; you felt silly. nobody with their head screwed on straight would be getting all teary-eyed and weepy over their friend picking up some breakfast. besides, there was still the chance that for joost, that was all it was — a sweet but small thing that he could do for you on a day guaranteed to be awful.

but joost just wasn’t one to do things small. there was always intent and meaning in everything that he did. you knew there had to be something else behind it, something worthy of all these tears in your eyes.

“well yeah, i’ve got that motherly instinct, remember?”

you laughed as you pulled away from him, wiping your sore eyes with the palms of your hands. there was no point in trying to blame it on the cold or the snow anymore, you knew that just from the big doe-eyed look that joost gave you. he’d caught a glimpse of your wet cheeks and the penny had finally dropped.

it almost hurt him knowing that for even a moment, you had honestly thought he wouldn’t have remembered the pastries.

that day — two years, six months, and thirteen days ago, was burned into his memory whether he wanted it to be or not. he hadn’t known much about you back then, but knew enough to know that you hadn’t gone M-I-A for two days simply because you were caught up with work or family. he also knew that showing up to your place unannounced and uninvited was a bold move on his part; you hadn’t known a great deal about him, either.

joost wasn’t very good at losing people. when you meant something to him, you were like family, and joost couldn’t quite cope with losing family.

honestly, he already really liked you and liked having you around, and that only made it worse for him when all of a sudden you weren’t anymore. you’d been at every one of his shows, every group-meet at whatever bar was deemed most convenient for the night, and every video shoot that was in desperate need of another extra. in his defence, he had tried calling first. infact, he’d called you around six times before turning up on your doorstep that morning.

joost pulled you back into him, resting his chin on the top of your head. it wasn’t your doubt in him that stung like the cold that nipped at his fingertips, but how you could never find it in yourself to believe that someone would want to do something for you. especially him, because surely you knew by now that he would do absolutely anything for you, right?

the words were on the very tip of his tongue. with you in his hold, the both of you together in the snow, he really wanted to say it. wanted to promise that he’d buy you those pastries every day for the rest of his life if you asked him to. wanted to squeeze you and shake you and tell you that of course he would, because you could ask him to jump and he’d only say ‘how high?’

instead, joost simply smiled when he finally let you go. he had to trust that it said everything he wanted to say for him, because you wouldn’t ever let him actually say it, would you? but now also wasn’t the right time, either, because the snow was falling harder and he could feel the tremor in your hands as he held them.

“cmon, you’re coming back to mine.”

you didn’t argue, nor did you resist when he started to lead you in the direction of his house. it made the most sense; it was a lot closer and despite all of the pain medication you were on, you still didn’t feel like walking. plus, you really liked joost’s place. it was bigger than yours, and nicer, and felt a lot more like home than your own flat did sometimes.

he was still holding onto your hand as the pair of you headed back down the highstreet, slipping past the few others that were brave enough to face the weather. with your head kept down low, you never saw how joost keep looking back at you every couple of steps, searching for any signs of hurt or pain.

“you know, you still haven’t told me how it went in there. everything okay?”

“yeah, everything’s fine.” you hesitated saying anything further and only continued once you felt a small squeeze of your hand, a quiet way of coaxing you to keep going. “they had to stitch me up a bit — said i have to take it easy and that i’m going to be on these pain meds for a while, but yeah. i’m gonna be okay.”

“i should’ve broken a lot more than his nose.”

immediately you shook your head, a few strands of hair falling in front of your eyes as you did so.

“no, you shouldn’t have. you shouldn’t have even done that.” it was hard to miss the scoff that immediately followed, as well as the few swear words that joost then muttered underneath his breath. “i should’ve broken his legs, actually.”

you pulled on his arm hard enough to get him to stop, and to turn and face you. there was nothing left of that sweet smile he once had, only a hardened jaw and a look that seemed to worsen the bruising around his eye.

“you and i both know that you’re not that guy, joost. you don’t do things like that.”

“i would for you.”

the way he said it, so obviously as though he shouldn’t have even had to say it at all, took you back. joost was a lot of things, a lot of kind, wonderful, stubborn things, but he wasn’t violent. last night was the first time you’d ever seen him behave like that; it had scared you then, and to hear him say that he’d do worse if he could, scared you now.

he wasn’t like you, he actually had something to lose. if those videos from last night got out, the ones of him throwing punches against three different guys, that could cost him everything. festivals could drop him from their line ups, brands could double back on their partnerships, other artists could pull out on their collabs. you couldn’t make sense of why none of that seemed to matter to him, why his whole career seemed to be an afterthought compared to you.

you couldn’t be worth all that trouble.

“why? why for me?”

joost really did have the worst luck, didn’t he?

had it been any other day, any other place, joost would’ve been screaming from the rooftops by now. he’d let not just you but the whole of amsterdam know just how much he was stupidly head over fucking heels for you. here you were, asking him to speak those very same words that he’s been swallowing down, because finally you were ready to hear them.

how bittersweet it was, that it just wasn’t the right time.

“i’ll tell you later, schatje. promise.”

#joost klein x reader #joost klein x f!reader #luvvergirlwrites

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plutoenjoyer · 4 months ago

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jooyeon — a love like this

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

genre: fluff 𓇬 wc: 1.2k

tags: gender neutral reader, mentions of joo being taller, fluff, comfort, reader sad, joo loves you like crazy, drabble, not beta read

warnings: none

summary: jooyeon comes home to you crying and needs you to know how much he loves you.

notes: only wrote this cuz i was sad🤡 still have major writers-block but i just needed something to make me feel better ... if youre having a bad day too, i hope this can help 💗 take care my lovely reader, things will be okay

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

its not often jooyeon comes home to a quiet apartment.

when he visits your apartment after a long day, there's usually the faint sizzle of food being cooked, the sound of you humming your favorite song, or the gentle buzz of some generic reality show playing on the TV. it feels comforting and warm—today, there is silence.

"hey, y/n? are you home?" his voice reverberates through the cold apartment, just a little louder than he usually is, surprisingly remembering you have neighbors next door.

when he hears a slight shuffle and the sound of a creaky door opening, his heart stops pounding and he breaths a small sigh of relief and loosens his grip on the heavy metal water bottle he carries—he was worried for nothing. you'd usually tell him if you weren't home. anything like this is out of the ordinary.

he's about to greet you but stops in his tracks when he sees you. you don't feel the need to tidy yourself up when he's around, you're comfortable being you, and he much prefers it that way. however, when you leave your bedroom you look like a wreck. your hair is uncombed and a bit tangled, eyes sunken with dark circles. a swollen red tinge lingers on your features as you give him a little wave from where you can see him, trying to muster a small smile.

"hey, joo," you're voice comes out like a croak and you're a little embarrassed about it. your watery eyes betray your weak smile, "sorry, i lost track of time. i haven't made dinner yet ..."

his eyes soften. he wishes you knew how his heart broke into a million pieces upon seeing you look so pained.

"oh, baby, don't worry about that—what's wrong? come here." he tells you to go to him but his legs are already moving, dropping his bag and hastily chucking his shoes off to the side.

you don't even have time to explain before he's wrapping his arms around you, his large frame enveloping your whole body. the pressure against your skin feels so ... comforting. it's a weird feeling. it occurs to you this is the first time he's really seen you cry since you started dating—and it occurs to you this is the first time you've really been held like this. it only makes your eyes well up with more tears.

"damn it, i thought i was done crying," you sniffle and give him a pitiful laugh to try and de-escalate your heightened emotions, but it's not long before you break down into another sob, pressing your cheek into his chest in a gross mix of snot and tears. you feel a wave of shame wash over you at the thought, but he doesn't care, never has. "sorry—" you basically choke out the words, "i-i don't know. i don't know what's wrong with me," your hands come up to weakly grasp at his hoodie, anything—you selfishly want him closer, as close as you can get, as much as the world would let you savor this moment of comfort. it's unlike anything you've experienced, to be held so gently, to simply be cared for.

you can't see his face, but his brow furrows in a display of deep concern. god, if anyone hurt you, even thought about it, he'd—

"'m okay," you assure him, savoring the last bit of his embrace before you pull a way just a bit to look him in the eye, "i'm just having a rough day is all."

he looks at you so softly. no amount of snot or saliva crusting at your lips or tears drying at the corners of your eyes or hair stuck haphazardly to your cheeks could ever stop him from loving you. the look on his face almost makes you believe he's sharing your same grief and disdain.

you want to cry again, "come on, don't look at me like that. don't be sad. i'm okay," you need him to be his usual self right now. you're not sure if you can handle it if he shows you how concerned he is—this side of him is so rare and so earnest it makes you melt inside. you can't stand the thought of being the one who causes him to frown.

"y/n," he takes his hand and brushes away some of the hair, tucks it gently behind your ears. he's taller than you and has to lean down a little to look at you straight. "i'm here for you, y'know. you can tell me anything—and i really mean that. you don't have to reassure me, it's okay if you don't feel okay."

his eyes are so warm. here he is professing how deeply he cares for you and all you can do is scrunch up your face to try not to lose composure again. you nod, give him a mhm hm and start wiping the tears off your face. "i know," you reply weakly. it's the truth. you know he loves you to hell and back, but sometimes your mind seems to forget. how silly.

"thanks, joo," your mouth is so mucky with the type of thick saliva you get from crying, but his presence has calmed you down enough to speak real sentences. and suddenly, you can't help yourself. you latch back onto him and pull him into a hug of your own. he feels so nice. what did you ever do to deserve him? "really, i think i cried everything out earlier. it's just—sometimes i think about things too hard and it gets to me, y'know?"

he hums in acknowledgement. you feel it against your chest. "yeah, i know," his voice is laced with kindness and understanding, a softness you know only you'll ever get to experience. when he says he understands, you know he means it given all that he does. "i know, baby. it gets hard sometimes." he pats your head as he cradles you in his arms.

after a beat, he pulls away again and gives you a signature cheeky grin, one that signals to you he's trying to cheer you up, "how about this—you go put on a movie on the couch, i'll order takeout, and i'll tell you about how practice went. you won't believe what jiseok did today ... and if you're feeling up to it, you tell me about what's going on."

it doesn't solve all the torment in your heart, but for a brief moment amidst your pain you feel warm and safe. with him, you know you're loved—you can't help but break into a small, silly grin as well. "okay, whatever that means," a laugh escapes your mouth and he can only smile wider knowing that you're hanging in there, with the return of your familiar sarcasm.

you're about to follow orders, but before you can really leave his vicinity, he pulls you in and presses a kiss to your forehead. "i love you, don't forget that, okay?"

it makes your heart feel full, and your chest feels heavy with a mix of endearment and thankfulness. you take his hand, pressing his palm up to your cheek and leaning into his warmth. "i love you, too."

his toothy smile never fails to make you happy.

"alright, then. what should we order?”

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

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thank you for reading<3

#— plutoenjoyer 𓇬 #xdh imagines #xdinary heroes x reader #xdh x reader #xdinary heroes imagines #jooyeon x reader #i just did something so embarassing between writing this and posting it so i dont even feel sad anymore LMFAO #my life is a joke

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