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bellaxgiornata · 3 days ago

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What Did You Expect?

Pairing: Matt Murdock x nurse!fem!Reader Word Count: 2.2k [Matt Murdock Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; mentions of sex, injured and snarky Matt, little jealousy, exes after a breakup, angst, hopeful ending

Summary: In need of medical assistance, Matt interrupts your evening–but you hadn't been alone.

Prompt: "Are you jealous?"

a/n: This is a short one shot for @mattmurdocksscars 2.5k Follower Celebration Writing Challenge event! I've never written Matt as an ex before (quite like this), so this was a lot of fun! Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

A sharp hiss of pain flew from between Matt’s lips, the noise harsh as it broke through the silence of your apartment. Eyes shifting up from the bloody, six inch gash along his left bicep, you briefly paused your stitching to glance at his face. Matt’s mouth was twisted up in discomfort, his features pinched tight in a grimace as you worked. He hated getting stitches, you’d always known that, but tonight he seemed determined to bear the pain as quietly as possible.

“You’re enjoying this far too much,” he bit out dryly.

Rolling your eyes at his comment, you returned your attention to your fingers as you resumed your work. He really did not have room to talk when he'd shown up unannounced on your fire escape asking for a favor at such an absurd hour. Especially after everything that had happened between you both only a few months ago.

“Considering it’s almost one in the morning and you interrupted my evening?” you replied tersely. “I think I’m enjoying your discomfort the proper amount, Matthew.”

A bitter huff of air fell from him, his head turning over his other shoulder as you continued to work. Out of the corner of your eye, you knew where his attention had focused right now–towards your bedroom. Again. You’d caught him repeatedly shifting his head just slightly in the direction of it as you’d been stitching him for the past few minutes. As you pulled the needle through his skin once more, you could see the way he tensed in your dining chair. Except this time you could tell the tension in his body had nothing to do with the needle.

“Yeah, well,” he added quietly, a bitter edge to his words, “it seemed like your evening had already come to its conclusion by the time I'd shown up.”

“And what a satisfying conclusion it was,” you shot back.

Matt shook his head at you, his attention shifting away from your bedroom as he focused on a spot straight in front of himself. His lips were drawn into a thin line as he sat there shirtless, still drenched in sweat and blood from his time running around the city tonight.

“Wasn't that satisfying,” he remarked.

Your hands stopped what they were doing, your gloved fingers resting against his bare and bloodied arm. Slowly, your eyes traveled from his injury upwards to his face. Matt was sitting there, the faintest hint of a pleased smirk on his mouth as if he was satisfied with himself for that jab.

“Were you listening that closely, Matthew?” you chastised. “Finding new hobbies while you're out there surfing rooftops now? Is eavesdropping on women having sex the new thing for The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen?”

Matt's smirk faltered before slipping off of his face entirely. A frown took its place instead, his hazel eyes narrowing at the blank screen of your television across the room. He'd long since discarded the black mask on your kitchen table, pulling it off after he'd stepped inside your apartment–just like he used to do when he stopped over during patrols in the past–making it impossible for him to hide his expression. It wasn't like he needed the mask around you anymore, though. You'd known all about the Devil when the pair of you had been dating.

“I wasn't intentionally listening,” he countered bitterly. “I came here looking for help. It's not that easy for me to stitch something one-handed while also blind.” His lips twitched in distaste as his voice lowered. “Not my fault you weren't alone when I stopped by.”

Pursing your lips as you worked, you felt a flash of frustration run through you. You didn't like that he'd come by tonight of all nights. You had just finally started to move forward after the breakup, trying to at least let guys into your bed even if you weren’t ready to let them into your heart. But you liked it even less that he'd overheard something so personal on top of it. Especially because it wasn't that he'd just overheard you having sex, it was that Matt’s heightened senses could invade your privacy enough to know the truth–that the guy you'd been with tonight couldn't play your body the same way Matt could.

“And it's not my fault that you did stop by. You could have gone to Claire,” you pointed out, trying to finish the last few stitches.

Matt scoffed at the comment. “Yeah, alright. Next time I'm bleeding from a deep laceration, I'll go the extra few blocks to Claire's place instead,” he shot back. “I wasn't exactly expecting you to be entertaining company quite so late, sweetheart.”

Your teeth grit together at the way he'd called you that again. It used to be spoken with such soft tenderness when you two had been together. Tonight? The condescension and anger was clear each time.

“What did you expect, Matt?” you asked, finishing the final stitch. “It's been over four months since we broke up–since you ended things and shoved me away. I'm not a damn nun.”

He huffed out a sharp breath at your nun comment, a sarcastic smile on his lips. “Hilarious.”

You turned and set your supplies back on the dining table, digging around in your medical bag for a bandage to cover his stitches with. Pulling one out, you began to open the packaging before focusing back on Matt.

“What?” you asked, arching a brow at him as he sat in front of you. “Are you jealous? Is that it, Matthew?”

A loud scoff fell out of him before he pulled an exaggerated face.“Of course I’m not jealous,” he snapped.

As you began covering his stitches with the bandage in your hands, you once again rolled your eyes. “You certainly sound jealous to me, Matt,” you argued. “You haven’t stopped focusing on my bedroom since you’ve been here. I can tell what you’re doing, I’ve known you long enough.”

“It’s not jealousy,” he countered. “I just figured you'd at least pick a guy who doesn't douse himself in cologne. Someone with a less irritating voice and who actually knew how to get you to properly finish when he’s–ahh!”

Eyes narrowed, you dropped your gloved hands away from his arm where you'd purposefully pressed a bit rougher than necessary against his wound while applying the bandage. He was far too comfortable discussing what he’d overheard considering the breakup and his four month long silence with you.

“Not everyone has the same unfair advantages you have,” you retorted. “You probably wouldn't be quite so successful at cunninglingus yourself if it wasn't for your heightened senses, Matthew.” You paused, shooting him a glare that you hoped he could at least feel the heat from. “Not that my sex life is any of your damn business, nor is it up for discussion. You should be sitting here thanking me for even helping you right now instead of intentionally irritating me.”

Matt's lips twitched again at the corners as you rose to your feet, beginning to clean up the mess you'd made trying to help him. Peeling off your gloves that were coated in his blood–not an unfamiliar sight to you in the past–you stepped into your kitchen and tossed them in the garbage.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, voice still tight.

“Don't tear those open on your way home, either,” you muttered, referring to the stitches. “I'm not staying up until three in the morning doing them over again.”

Stepping back around where he sat in your dining chair, you focused on putting the rest of your medical supplies back into your bag. Next to you, Matt leaned over towards your table with a grunt and grabbed his torn and bloodied black shirt from off of it. Out of the corner of your eye, you were aware of him pulling it carefully back on.

“I can hear your heart, you know,” he pointed out.

Your jaw tensed at the unexpected softness laced with something else. Something like satisfaction.

“And maybe you should stop listening to it,” you warned him.

A heavy silence filled your apartment as he continued to slip his shirt on over his head, slowly putting his arms through the torn sleeves. Finished putting the supplies back into your bag, you began to zip it up, but now you were far too aware of your traitorous body after his comment. Of course Matt could still hear the way you reacted around him even if you didn’t want to feel that way. It wasn’t as if you had any control over your body when it came to him.

Matt rose to his feet beside you, leaning past you to grab his mask from your kitchen table next. As he did, you caught the face he made. His nose scrunched up and his eyes narrowed, the corner of his lips curling back in disgust, just as it had done when he’d focused on your bedroom.

“What?” you asked.

With a deep frown on his face, he straightened beside you. “You smell like him. Awful cologne and…”

His voice trailed off, not finishing his sentence. You could guess what else you smelled like from the guy you’d had over to Matt’s senses. Sweat, pheromones, and the aftermath of sex. You'd have felt bad for him if it wasn't for the fact that he'd been nothing but a jerk since he showed up asking you for help in the middle of the night.

“I'm sorry I didn't have a chance to shower before I gave you free medical treatment,” you replied stiffly.

Picking up your bag, you turned and began heading down the hall towards your bathroom. But as you walked, your hand tightened around the bag in outward anger. Despite that anger, your heart ached at this painful, unexpected interaction tonight. It was the last thing you’d wanted to deal with when you’d been trying to move forward.

You’d just barely gotten halfway down the hall when Matt spoke up again. He’d spoken so quietly that you’d had to strain to be able to hear him.

“A shower wouldn't have done enough,” he murmured, pain coating his words. “The smell goes…deeper than that.”

Stopping in the doorway of your little bathroom, you glanced down the short hallway back towards him. He was pulling the black mask over his face, but you caught the expression on it before half of it was obscured by the fabric. Hurt. But not the physical kind from the knife wound you'd just helped him with, a different sort of hurt. The kind you knew he hid behind with the physical pain he endured when he went out on nights like this.

Which had been the main problem between you both. Matt often struggled to communicate his feelings with you, but he also never took care of himself. He preferred to run around the city at night instead, even after you'd just brought him back from what felt like the brink of death some nights. Sometimes it felt like he was doing it to punish himself and not the criminals of Hell’s Kitchen. While you respected what he did, you hated how he pushed himself without a care for his own well-being over and over. It had been hard to watch, eventually becoming the topic of far too many fights–until it led to Matt taking the easy route and ending things.

“I'm sorry,” he said softly.

Expression falling as you stood just outside your bathroom, you felt that ache in your chest grow. Those two words carried so much weight as they hung heavy in your apartment, the distance between you both incredibly palpable. That apology was meant for more than just his attitude tonight.

“Yeah,” you said just as quietly. “Me too.”

Matt hesitated for a moment, his focus still on you before he nodded slowly, acknowledging your words. Turning, he easily navigated his way around your living room despite the four months since he'd last been in it. Taking a step back into the hallway and away from your bathroom, you turned towards him and watched his retreating form. He looked so worn now that he wasn't throwing biting comments at you–his shoulders were slightly hunched and his head hanging.

“I'm glad you're alright,” you called after him, catching the way your voice had caused him to stop. “And I'd rather you come here for help than bleed out on the streets. Just for…future reference.”

Matt paused by your window, one gloved hand on the bottom of it. His masked head shifted over his shoulder in your direction again, and you saw the small, sad smile on his lips.

“I appreciate that, sweetheart,” he replied.

Matt turned back to your window, pushing it up and slipping back out onto your fire escape. As he closed it after himself, you noticed how he'd called you that without the condescension he'd been using most of the night. Rather, the sound of it felt like it carried a different meaning now.

One that said ‘I miss you.’

Matt Murdock One Shot/Shorts Tag List: @pazii @shouldbestudying41 @kmc1989 @ebathory997 @yeonalie @shiorimakibawrites @xxdrixx @wkndwlff @leikelle @pinkratts @lazyxsquirrel @1988-fiend @marvelcinematiquniverse @carstairswife @stilldreaming666 @kiwwia-wiwwia @willwork4dilfs @will-delete-this-later-probably @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @theetherealbloom @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @ladywholikesreading @millennial-birkin @tartbeanpuzzles @harleycao @sunflower-tia @gamingfeline @juskonutoh @kezibear @ninacotte @withyoutilltheendoftheline @justanerd1 @scriptedmoon @ardent-crow @lucienofthelakes @sarahskywalker-amidala @flowher @loves0phelia @a-half-empty-girl @zomtart @justvalkyrie @steve-chandler @valhallavalkyrie9 @let-it-go-and-live-again @thetorturedpoetcalleddez @steviebbboi

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock #matt murdock angst #daredevil

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myownwholewildworld · 3 days ago

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a man called joel (part 2)

↪ a "a man called otto" inspired fic ― jackson!joel miller x f!reader

series masterlist | AO3 summary: worried about your exchange with joel, you decide to go to tommy's house, see if there's somthing you can do to help. little do you know, it just makes things worse. author's note: hi! tyvm to everyone who has shown some love to this series so far <3 it's taken me a bit but here's part 2! i'm posting it before i change my mind haha. please heed the warnings and if you like what you read, please consider interacting with this post! love you all <3 tags/warnings: 18+, mdni. topics of death/murder and losing a child. dealing with the grief and guilt joel feels about sarah, ellie & tess. suicide attempt. tommy, maria and benji make an appearance. joel being a good uncle but a dick to everyone else. arguments. mean/cruel!joel. there's a suicide letter from joel to tommy. dual pov. reader is female, has hair. no use of y/n. joel is in his late fifties and reader in her 40s. wordcount: ~7.4k. divider by @\saradika-graphics

He was such a failure, he couldn’t even kill himself properly. What a fucking shame of a human being.

After closing the door right in your face, Joel trudged towards the couch in his living room, exhausted, mind still buzzing from the near-death experience. He sighed heavily, eyeing the noose and broken hook on the floor, pieces of plasterboard dotted around the mess where he had laid just a few minutes before.

He should have died. Death had been so close, within reach… At his fingertips. And now felt distant again, like a dream he’d woken up too early from. And despite the heartache, the vision of Sarah silently begging him not to do it, Joel needed to chase that illusion. Yearned for another peaceful moment with his daughter, longed for the moment he would see her again. Alive and young and well. Like no time had passed, like she’d been by his side for the past two decades—his personal guardian angel.

His heart was still mourning the loss, his pipedream gone. Hadn’t thought of God and Heaven in a very long while, his wavering faith lost when Sarah was taken away from him. But now, perhaps, there was a chance that Sarah was waiting for him. Somewhere, somehow—and Joel was determined to find her. Whatever it cost—even his life.

Had you not interrupted, his dream may as well have come true. But the banging on the door and window along with your incessant calls had ended up filtering into his brain. Like a motherfucking, unwanted wake-up call. You’d brought him back when he truly just wanted to die, to reunite with his baby girl. Damn you.

He’d only had to try again. Try harder next time. Because he wasn’t done. Not yet, not until he put an end to his own misery. Joel was determined to finish what he had started, and nothing nor no one could stop him.

Not even you, with your pleading doe eyes. His stomach twisted at the thought of your hand reaching up to his face. How your eyes roved over his neck, worryingly and intensely. How your nose scrunched a little and your lips fell into a pout. How your brows creased with concern for a stranger, an old man you didn’t know. Joel could only hope you hadn’t put the pieces of the picture together.

His heavy sight wandered around the room, his hand palming the wrist where Sarah’s watch rested.

Time.

“Fuck, what’s the time?” Joel mouthed, throat dry and tender, while he stood up.

In the kitchen, the clock on the wall told him he was already late. Ten minutes late to a dinner he hadn’t planned on attending. And now he’d have to go, pretend nothing had happened, because of you.

Joel walked towards the door, his back stiff like a wooden plank. His left knee cracked loudly, and a burning thunder went up his thigh. At the same time, the dull pain on the back of his head shot all the way through his skull, piercing his eyeballs. The sudden sting almost made him lose his footing, feeling dizzy and unsteady. He crouched down a little, his hand grasping the armrest of the couch as Joel fought an unexpected wave of nausea.

The fall had definitely been a bad one. Regrettably, not bad enough to have him killed. Only if he had hit his head a bit harder…

Joel pinched the bridge of his nose, pressing his eyes together while bile rose up his throat, leaving an acidic, bitter taste on his tongue. Groaning, he palmed the nape of his neck and then a bit further up, just to notice how his fingertips became wet. Frowning, Joel squinted one eye open to inspect his fingers.

Blood. Fucking great. Now he’d have to deal with that before going to Tommy’s. And of course, he blamed you. For all of it.

Thirty minutes later, Joel was at his brother’s doorstep, curls damp and nose cold. Rubbing his gloved hands together, he blew some warm air into his cupped palms to heat up his face, mind drifting back to today’s events.

“Joel?”

His eyes focused, travelling up from his boots to the frowning face in front of him. Seemed like his little brother had already spoken and was waiting on his reply.

“Are you gonna come in or are you gonna stay out there in the cold?” Tommy asked with a huff, moving aside to let him in.

“Right. Mind’s somewhere else today,” Joel mumbled an excuse while Tommy closed the door behind him.

“You’re late,” Tommy warned. “Maria ain’t happy, turkey’s going cold.”

Joel hmphed, removing his gloves and then his coat. Hung them on the hook by the door. When he turned around, he almost bumped into Tommy, who was standing too close.

“What’s that?” his brother’s eyes squinted, head tilted.

“What’s what?”

“Your neck. It’s… bruising. The heck have you been doing?” Tommy’s fingers reached up to the neckline of his shirt, pushing it down to have a better look. Just as you had tried to do.

Joel swatted his hand away, huffing dismissively. His skin crawled, the idea of being touched unbearable, even by a friendly hand.

“‘S nothing. Had an accident, that’s all,” he mumbled, sauntering towards the dining room.

“An accident? Did you accidentally put a rope around your neck or what?” Tommy laughed at his own occurrence, palming Joel’s shoulder as he walked besides him.

Internally, Joel flinched—a gesture he didn’t let break through the surface. “I have. I’m tired, brother. I want this to be over. It’s… I feel like my life is slipping away through my fingers. I’ve survived insufferable things, and it just feels wrong now. I’m drained of purpose. I’m tired, so very tired. I need’a rest—lay my head on the pillow and drift away… forever. See my babygirl, hug Tess. God, Tess…” he thought. But those words never escaped his mind, tucked away in the confines of his guilt, of his dread. Of his desperation.

Perhaps he should have spoken then—crack the shell of his feelings open, ask for help. But what had help gotten him so far besides heartache? Besides an overwhelming sense of failure? Speaking to Gail had only made things worse for him, forcing him to paint the picture of a crude reality with a clarity he’d been evading for years. Decades.

But he didn’t speak—wouldn’t burden his brother with his thoughts. Because it wouldn’t make a difference, Joel had made up his mind. No words would change everything he’d done, all the decisions that had led him to Death’s door.

“Benji’s been asking about his uncle the whole day. He’s got two new toys, a couple of miniature dinosaurs. Ellie gave them to him this morning,” Tommy happily chirped away, unaware of the hole he was digging in Joel’s chest. Deep and throbbing like an open, infected wound—a wound that would never heal, that would fester until his heart would rot past mending. Past salvation.

Was Ellie getting rid of everything he’d gifted her? Was she trying to erase the memory of him? Of everything they had shared up until that fateful day?

Joel had found those dinosaur toys in their visit to the Wyoming Museum of Science and History for her sixteenth birthday. Ellie had been so impressed with the life-size sculpture of the Tyrannosaurus Rex in the thick woods of the museum, Joel knew she would appreciate to have those as a memento. She’d been so elated with his gift, those two miniatures had had a special place of on her bedroom’s shelves up until she moved out to the garage.

And now she had gotten rid of them, passed them on to Benji. “At least she’s not thrown them away,” Joel weighed in his mind. Had he found those in the trash… it would have dented his rugged heart even more, that muscle condemned to the forgetfulness of death.

“Uncle!” Benji jumped off the chair, running towards him with his arms extended.

Joel’s whole demeanour shifted, a ray of sunlight slipping through the cracks of his darkness. Benji was a blessing in his life, loved him as his own. His nephew would never fill the hole of his loss but softened the edges of the gaping wound in his chest.

He knelt on the creaking wooden planks, arms outstretched to give Benji a big hug. The little Miller laughed, the sound so full of life, Joel wondered when was the last time he felt so at ease, so problem-free.

“Look! Ellie gave me these!” and then Benji shot off his embrace, skipping towards the table.

Besides an almost empty plate—Benji always had an earlier dinner than the adults and already had a dinosaur-themed pyjamas on—laid the two toys that held a special place in his heart. Benji tiptoed near the table and managed to grab them before he returned to Joel, still kneeling on the floor.

“This one’s my favourite, Uncle. Ellie said it’s a Tydono… I dunno, something-saurus! Big, big dino, he was the king of the jungle! Would eat anyone in his path. And look at this one!” Benji kept on babbling, explaining everything Ellie had told him about the figurines.

Joel listened attentively, a softness tugging at the corners of his mouth. His nephew was recounting the same stories he’d chronicled for Ellie three years ago. A part of him—the one that held to a fragile shard of hope—wanted to believe that Ellie still thought fondly of him, that perhaps she didn’t hate him as much as she’d yelled.

“Benji, it’s bedtime,” Maria chipped in, entering the dining room from the kitchen. “Hi, Joel.”

“Hey,” he greeted back with a nod, eyes going back to the Brachiosaurus toy Benji was still talking about, purposefully ignoring his mom. “I can put him to sleep, read him a bedtime story.”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind. Thanks,” Maria agreed. “But quick, I’m reheating the turkey.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Joel agreed. “Come on, big guy.”

Joel picked Benji up, his knees and lower back loudly protesting when he stood up. Helped his nephew get into bed, read a passage of his favourite children’s book and stealthily walked out of his room when Benji drifted off. He’d enjoyed this bedtime routines with Sarah—but unlike Benji, she would get too excited about the story and ramble about it endlessly. She’d talk so much, she’d tire herself out and fall asleep halfway through a sentence.

With bated breath and an aching heart again, Joel carefully closed the door behind him with a soft click. When he arrived downstairs, Tommy was carving the last of the turkey and setting it down on a plate.

Joel reached for the dish and mumbled a “thank you” before he sat down at the table with his brother and sister-in-law. For a moment, the silence was hefty and thick, like trying to breath through a wall of water.

“Tommy said you have a new neighbour. Don’t scare her away like you did with the last one,” Maria warned him, a mighty brow cocked, looking at him over the fork she held.

Joel huffed, rolling his eyes.

“Agnes was a pain in the ass. Still is. In the span of a week, she knocked my mailbox down twice, and not by mistake,” Joel shook his head in disapproval, stuffing his mouth with the turkey.

“That’s what you said. Both times I checked, your mailbox was still standing,” Tommy butted in, a glitter of joke in his eyes.

“Because I fixed it before you came round,” he hissed, eyes averted, focused on the food.

Had he been looking up, Joel would have caught the hint of worry in Maria’s eyes. How she’d thrown a sideway glance at Tommy when she saw the bruising around his neck. How Tommy had shrugged, downplaying her concern.

Solitude is a silent storm that breaks down all our dead branches.

And the silent storm was brewing with every metal clink of cutlery. A storm Joel had been avoiding, playing ignorant to how things looked on the outside.

“How’s everything with Ellie?” Maria asked out of nowhere.

Joel’s heart plummeted to the bottom of his stomach—a strangling twist contorting his entrails when the simmering anxiety took a hold of him. But he couldn’t show it—how this all affected him, how the solitude wrecked him, playing mind games with him. As if Death was mindlessly toying with him.

“We’re good,” was his automatic answer.

“We ain’t blind, brother,” Tommy intervened. “Everyone’s talking about it.”

“Fuck everyone then and their stupid gossiping. People are fucking bored in this town if that’s the only thing they can talk about. Don’t they have anything better to worry about? We are fine,” Joel barked, throwing the fork at his plate, hand shaking. “‘S just a phase.”

“Problems don’t just resolve themselves if you don’t talk about them, Joel. They don’t disappear; they just grow bigger until they are blown out of proportion. If you need us to talk to her…” Maria offered calmly, unfazed by his sudden outburst.

“I said we are fucking okay, alright?” Joel’s tone grew louder, frustrated, the legs of his chair screeching against the wooden floor when he pushed it back to stand up. “Mind your fucking business, both of ya.”

“Hey. Watch your fucking mouth!” Tommy stood up, one hand pressed on the table while the other pointed an accusatory finger at him. “You don’t come to this house to disrespect us like that.”

“Perhaps I shouldn’t come at all,” Joel gritted out, the tips of his ears hot with anger.

“Yeah, perhaps you fucking shouldn’t!”

“Both of you, calm down,” Maria spoke serenely, the only one keeping a cool demeanour. “No one is getting kicked out of our home, Tommy. You’re welcome here, Joel. We are just worried, that’s all. We don’t need to talk about it now, I’m sure you’ll come around when you’re ready.”

Just as Joel was about to reply, a gentle knock on the front door quickly dissipated the argument. Surely for the better—deep down, Joel appreciated the concern, his rage misplaced.

“I’ll get it,” Tommy muttered.

You twisted your hands resting on your lap, the loud noises of the community hall not reaching your ears at all. You were physically there, but your mind was elsewhere.

You really had tried to keep your mind busy for the rest of the day, pull out some dying weeds before running back inside to clean. But every time a task required some sort of focus, you just couldn’t do it. Your hands were too flimsy, trembling. An impending sense of doom had taken over your soul and you just couldn’t shake it off.

Joel Miller wasn’t well. So far, that was everything you knew. The whole exchange you had with him, how he became instantly defensive when you mentioned his fall… Any other person would have admitted what happened or at least downplayed if they were embarrassed. Not him, though. If your fingers had reached any closer to his neck, you were sure he would have bitten your hand off.

Perhaps he was just a grumpy old man. The type who would bark at every neighbour if they stepped on the grass or if something dropped from their back pockets, instantly accusing them of littering.

The type who would not let anyone help him, not even when he wasn’t okay. And that was what worried you the most. You had seen people falling to their demises just because they were too proud to admit they needed a hand. But his sin wasn’t pride, it was… something that was luring him into the dark. Something personal and painful. Something that was eating him alive.

A sudden noise startled you, jumping on the wooden bench, derailing your train of thought.

“Sorry!” A kid exclaimed happily, grabbing the football leaning against the leg of the bench.

You smiled at her, heart warm with memories of a life lived what seemed a century ago. A sparkle caught your eye—she was wearing a beautiful piece of jewellery around her neck, most probably a hand-me-down from a family member before the outbreak that changed everything.

“Don’t worry, it’s okay!” You replied before the girl giggled and ran away.

With a grin still curling your lips, your mind went back to the topic nagging at the back of your mind: Mister Joel Miller.

There and then, you decided you couldn’t just stand by with your arms crossed. And of course you were not about to knock on his door again, afraid he might actually kick your butt and throw you off his porch. Approaching Tommy was probably wiser, just to see if there was something you could do covertly, perhaps keeping an eye on Joel for him.

Standing up, you thanked the people around you on the table for the warm meal and waved them goodbye. A cacophony of “byes” followed suit—everyone was so nice here, it was like a blanket hugging your heart.

You stood just outside the main door, suddenly realising you didn’t know how to find Tommy. Thankfully, there was a woman smoking outside—Gail, as you found out when she introduced herself—who gave you directions to Tommy and Maria’s house when you explained to her where you wanted to go.

Wrapping yourself in your coat and securing your woolly scarf around your neck, you trudged forward through the thick blanket of fresh snow. A few minutes later you arrived at a cul-de-sac with just a handful of houses, not far from yours. Gail had said that the one you were looking for had a swing bench on the porch.

Scanning the area, you clicked your tongue when you saw it and ran towards the house—your toes were freezing in your winter boots, the cold nipping at the skin of your face. Determined with your mission, you walked up the steps and knocked on the door.

There was a rush of movement on the other side, some loud voices filtering through. Unable to make out what they were talking about, you just patiently waited for someone to open.

A minute later, Tommy appeared under the frame—a pronounced pinch on his brows, his mouth twisting angrily, as if you had inconveniently interrupted a heated argument.

Clearing your throat, you took a step back, realising this might not be the best time.

“Uh, hi, Tommy. Sorry, I didn’t mean to— I can come back lat—” you stumbled over your own words, feeling awkward and out of place.

“Hey,” Tommy greeted you by name. You were surprised he remembered, considering how many people he’d welcomed in. “Don’t worry. We were just having family dinner, you know how those go…”

You nodded with a weak smile—yes, you did. But it had been a long time since you sat around a table with your loved ones. A very long time, indeed.

“Who’s it?” A deep, husky voice inquired from the adjacent room.

You knew who it was before the booted steps betrayed his presence, your heart racing wildly in your chest as your mind tried to come up with some sort of excuse for your visit.

You gaped, a shaky sigh escaping your lips, when the source of your worries appeared behind Tommy. The reason you were here—to tell Tommy you thought Joel wasn’t okay, that he needed help. And you were doing it so behind Joel’s back.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he barked bitterly, nostrils flaring and a hand on his brother’s shoulder to push him out of his way. “Huh?!”

His unrequited rage took you aback. Stepping further back, you almost lost your footing with one of the steps but managed to grab onto the handrail before you fell backwards.

Why didn’t you think of this? That Joel might be here for dinner? What were you thinking?

You stared at Joel, then at a surprised Tommy, then back at Joel, all the while you just wanted to throw up your heart at their feet.

“I asked you a goddamn question,” Joel snapped, walking out onto the porch.

Your heart sank to your stomach. He was truly pissed off at you. Perhaps rightfully so—being sneaky like this was not a good start to any friendship.

“Whoa, whoa! Calm the fuck down, where are your fucking manners?!” Tommy quickly intervened, grabbing at his brother’s shoulder and pushing him back away from you. “What’s wrong with you today?!”

Your eardrums throbbed with the increased blood pressure, your heart pumping violently in your chest. You knew you had erred, but didn’t deserve such dreadful treatment—your intentions were pure, coming from a good place. You just wanted to help, make sure that Joel was surrounded by a loving support system.

As your mind raced and the two brothers confronted each other, Maria, Tommy’s partner, made an appearance. Her aura almost instantly put you at ease, her presence calming.

“Can the both of you keep quiet? You’re gonna wake Benji up,” she scolded them, stepping between the Millers before her eyes found yours. “What’s the matter?” she asked you with a smile, offering you a hand to walk inside with them.

You glanced at both Joel and Tommy, who were obviously locked in on each other, then back at Maria. Letting go of the handrail you were holding onto for dear life, you gestured with your hands.

“It’s nothing. Just a clogged pipe at home, nothing of importance. I can come back tomorrow so you can point me in the direction of someone who can help,” you stumbled over your own words. “I don’t want to interrupt, I’ll leave you guys be.”

“Nonsense,” Maria said, stepping aside to let you in. “Come on in, we were about to have dessert. We’ll send someone first thing tomorrow to help you out.”

“I’m going. M’not hungry,” Joel mumbled, jaw tight like a bow.

Was he leaving because he didn’t want to be in the same room as you? Did he despise you that much with so little interaction? You two had really started off on the wrong foot.

“Don’t be a child, Joel. I’ve got my hands full with Benji already. You’re having dessert too. Let’s go,” Maria reprimanded him, and you felt bad for forcing this situation onto him.

“I can go…”

“No, you’re staying. Everyone’s staying,” and with those final, indisputable words, Tommy, Joe and you followed Maria inside.

The house was warm, the smell inviting—cinnamon mixed with vanilla lingered in the air. The soft orangey shadow the lamps and ceiling lights casted was very comforting, pleasant to the eye. When you followed Maria’s lead into the dining room, you spied some toys scattered on an empty spot on the table. This wasn’t a house, it was a home. Lived in, cared for, full of life. Of hope too—Jackson was a permanent stronghold, a place where families could settle and blossom.

“Any allergies?” Maria asked you, tipping her head towards the empty chair besides Joel in invitation.

“No, none.”

You hesitated, Joel’s discomfort radiating off him, enveloping you. But considering there were no other empty chairs, you had no other option than to sit next to him.

Maria left the room, quickly followed by Tommy. You could hear them bickering in whispers because the silence between Joel and you was loud. Your hands nervously twisted on your lap, deciding whether to apologise or just put the matter to rest.

Before you could make up your mind, Maria and Tommy returned. The younger Miller was carrying a tray with some delicious cinnamon rolls, while Maria set down some porcelain mugs on the table.

“Tea? Coffee?”

“Tea, please.”

Her hospitality was touching, especially considering the state of the world outside Jackson’s palisade. You’d only encountered hatred and greed out there, a thirst for power so potent and pungent it would consume a human’s soul within seconds. Jackson and its people felt… different—neighbourly, kind, altruistic. The town seemed to run smoothly.

Maria and you did your best to fill the silence with chitchat once you’d relaxed a little. On the other hand, the brothers appeared to be in some sort of mean staring contest between themselves. Which, truth be told, made you feel a tad better—perhaps Joel wasn’t really mad at you but at Tommy, and you just happened to be in the crossfire.

“Yeah, of course I would like to help,” you said instantly when Maria mentioned that they were one person down on tomorrow’s afternoon patrol. “I’ve been out there for longer than I care to admit, I know my way around this area too.”

“Perfect. Joel’s patrol partner is in the infirmary with a fever. I was going to cancel it but if you don’t mind joining him, I’d greatly appreciate it.”

You almost choked on the last bite of cinnamon roll, which you had to force down by sipping on your tea. Being on patrol with Joel did not sound appealing at all—not because you would be uncomfortable, but because you knew he would.

“Listen—” Joel began to complain, but as soon as Maria shot a warning glance at him, he stopped right in his tracks. “Alright.”

“It’s settled then,” Maria concluded with finality, she wasn’t going to let Joel argue with her.

Fifteen minutes later, you were saying your goodbyes to the Millers and thanking them for having you. When the door closed behind you, you ventured a bashful look in Joel’s direction.

“We don’t need to walk together,” you gave him a way out of this uncomfortable situation.

“You want to walk the streets alone at night?” Joel questioned, raising a thick, silvery brow.

“Do I have something to worry about?”

“As idyllic as Jackson is, not every single one of us are saints.”

The veiled truth behind his words confirmed what you suspected—Joel didn’t see himself as one of the “good guys”, as worthy of the tranquillity this town offered. How much truth there was to that… you’d only have to unearth it yourself.

“Do… do I need to worry about being alone with you then?”

“What? No,” his reaction was instantaneous. His eyes had widened when his brain caught up with his own words. “Fuck, no. That’s not what I meant. I just— Well, you shouldn’t trust someone just because they are from Jackson.”

“It’s okay, Joel.” A little smile had softened your lips, his mortification somewhat endearing. “We can walk together. I trust you, I think.”

Joel hmphed but didn’t oppose. In silence you walked, but this time wasn’t as excruciating as you had feared. Perhaps he was a man of few words, and that was okay. You understood that when there was nothing of importance to say, it was better to remain silent.

Arriving at your street, your paths parted when it was time to hide in your respective homes. But before you disappeared through your door, you turned around.

Joel was standing in the middle of the road, watching you go up the steps of your porch—as if he was making sure you were getting home safely. When he found himself caught, Joel shoved his hands in the pockets of his furry coat and veered.

“Joel?” You waited for him to face you. “I’m sorry. I know how that looked like, but I wasn’t trying to… I just, you know—”

“It’s okay. I overreacted. Hope they can sort out the pipe for you tomorrow. Don’t be late for patrol,” and with that warning, he trudged forward through the snow and climbed up the steps of his porch.

You pouted—he’d misunderstood. You meant to apologise, “I wasn’t trying to go behind your back. I just worry unnecessarily, I’m sorry I overstepped your boundaries.” But he didn’t give you a chance.

With a heavy sigh, you pushed the door open and locked it behind your back. There had to be something in this house you could block a pipe with, so the plumber’s trip wouldn’t be in vain.

It gnawed at him—how you cheerfully tried to make some small talk while the only thing he could do was grunt and huff in response. Joel wasn’t trying to be rude on purpose, he just didn’t enjoy the proximity of humanity anymore. Not that he had been a big fan of socialisation in the past anyway, but since losing almost everyone he held dear, Joel didn’t see the appeal in connecting with someone else.

And after his confrontation with Tommy, the abyss separating him from the rest of the world just cracked further apart. Everything he touched, died—not everything, but everyone. As if Death was chasing after him, patiently waiting to claim him.

Death followed him everywhere, sniffing at the cuffs of his pants, but never deciding to give him the final clutch of its claws.

Joel was tired of this waiting game. Wanted it over, to be put to rest. Besides Sarah’s grave back in their Austin home. He’d even dared to put those thoughts into words a few days ago.

As soon as the ink had dried on the parchment, Joel had regretted it—asking such a thing from Tommy was cruel, evil. Selfish. But deep down, it was his dying wish; he truly believed that his bones wouldn’t find solace sitting alone six feet under, that Sarah’s presence would sooth the ache he’d left behind in this world.

He’d also written a note to Ellie. But that one… it wrecked his soul just remembering it—how the tears had blurred his vision, some falling onto the paper, smudging his calligraphy. All the things he wished to say when the silence between them would stretch, the unspoken, broken words that would hang in the void, pestering and rotting what little was left of their bond.

Did he hide them well?

“Do you like to read?” your question caught him off guard. “I saw you with a book when I met you yesterday.”

Joel looked at you askance, riding beside him. Blinking rapidly and watching his twelve, he’d hoped you hadn’t noticed the dampness in his eyes—the only visible tale of his agony.

“Mhm, sometimes,” Joel conceded, sharpening his senses to ensure the surroundings were safe.

“Anything you’ve read lately?” you insisted, your mare coming too close to his horse, rubbing necks together, neighing softly.

His stallion didn’t appreciate the caress, pulling from the reins and swaying away. The subtlety of the animals’ exchange didn’t go unnoticed by any of you, your expression wavering for a moment—were you so hurt too when he openly rejected your hand yesterday afternoon?

“Easy, Old Beardy,” Joel whispered, leaning forward to pat the horse’s neck. When the animal calmed down, he straightened his back and gave you a stern nod. “Yeah. Been reading One Hundred Years of Solitude. Dunno if you’ve heard of it.”

“Are you kidding?” your hearty laugh piqued his interest, a frown creasing his brows. “I love Gabrial García Márquez’s writing. My favourite book is Chronicle of a Death Foretold. Have you read it?”

“‘M afraid not,” was his succinct reply.

You were insistent, he’d give you that.

“Oh, I have a copy you can borrow. It’s been with me since, well, all of this happened,” you gestured around you. “While I was working in my family’s garden center, I was also getting my degree in literature. My thesis was going to be about Gabo’s writing, actually.”

“You didn’t finish?”

“The outbreak happened in my third year. Didn’t have a chance,” your excitement died off with your words, a pout painted on your lips.

“Sorry,” he apologised, even though he wasn’t sure why.

“It’s okay. I’ve made my peace with losing the life I had before that ominous day.”

You’d made your peace. What an alien thought—one Joel couldn’t grasp. It’d take a very strong, determined person to let go of the tethers of the past. Perhaps you were braver than him, at least on the outside.

Was he the only one who crumbled to his knees whenever the memories flooded back? Had age weakened him? Broken him past mending?

“Anyways, about the book you’ve been reading! There are so many beautiful passages in there. Any favourites so far?”

You were assuming he’d only read it once, but reality was, he’d lost count.

“Yeah, uhm…” Joel cleared his throat, the words coming back to him as if he’d been mentally reciting them for weeks. “He felt himself forgotten, not with the irremediable forgetfulness of the heart, but with a different kind of forgetfulness, which was more cruel and irrevocable and which he knew very well because it was the forgetfulness of death.”

He should have thought before that quote slipped. To anyone, it’d have been a quirky answer, a dark one at that. But you, it seemed, had picked up on the sadness of his heartfelt delivery—how it spoke more about himself than he’d ever admit—because the silence that followed was telling, consuming.

“It… it is a beautiful quote,” you whispered, and Joel felt the full weight of your eyes on him. “The forgetfulness of death is what we all are condemned to if we don’t nudge a dent on the people we leave behind when we pass. Is that…?”

Joel raised a hand, signalling to halt.

A faint sound that he’d grown too familiar to—a clicking, throaty call. Subtle, but enough to make his senses flare, the hair on the back of his neck stand. As far as Joel could tell, it might only be one, but the noise the clicker emitted could summon others.

Reeling your mount closer to his, you listened in silence. And when Joel’s eyes searched for yours, you gave him an understanding nod.

“We’re too close to Jackson,” you muttered.

“Yeah, gotta take care of it before it becomes a bigger problem,” Joel dismounted Old Beardy and you followed suit, tying both horses to a rail guarding the dilapidated building you both were circumventing. “Go right, sweep the area. Make sure there’re no others. I’ll go left.”

You didn’t question his decision—the alertness in your orbs bright enough to make him understand you’d encountered hundreds of clickers. Your body language had shifted too, your stance stiffer, your shoulders squared as you unsheathed a knife from your belt.

He did the same and turned around, hunting knife on hand.

The building was a wooden structure, possibly an old shed for the farmland besides it. The wood had rotten, blackened with the passage of time. The ceiling was half collapsed, an outbuilding with barn doors attached to the side.

The clicking became clearer as Joel sauntered towards the outbuilding, fingers clutching around the hilt. Crouching a little, his free hand caressed the O-shaped rusty handle and pulled, taking a step back to put some distance between himself and the threat.

A woman laid among the mouldy straw, wriggling in pain. She was in the first stages of the infection, at the point where one could still see their humanity. She had greying brown hair, wavy and long.

It wasn’t her suffering what froze him in place, but her eyes. In the darkness of the shed, they were green as a blooming meadow. The same eyes he’d woken up to for thirteen years—Tess’s. The similarities were striking, like a dagger of the past staring right at him.

Since Tess’s death, Joel had drowned the memories of her, locked them away in a godforsaken drawer of his mind and threw away the key. Because he’d never done good by her—never said what she really meant to him, how she kept his mind cool and his path straight. And in the decade they’d spent together, Joel never dared to say the three words that would have settled their relationship. Never told her how much he cared for her either—because he was a man of acts of service, wasn’t eloquent enough with the spoken word.

And then she died, sacrificing herself for the greater good, for him and Ellie to escape unscathed. Succumbed to clickers alone, with no one by her side. Without a chance to right the wrong he’d carried in his soul, his heart.

Had she known? Joel regretted never whispering an “I love you” when she’d fallen asleep in his embrace. Never opened up to her—his feelings too messed up, entangled with a fear of loss, with a caution he’d learnt after losing Sarah. Because he’d thought that if he ever said the words out loud, Joel would lose Tess. Because everyone he touched, died.

And that wasn’t the worst part, not telling her how much she meant to him. It was how Joel had stepped back away from her when she walked towards him after becoming infected, how he’d built a wall to guard his own sanity, without considering how Tess must have felt. How she’d whispered “oops, right?” to hide her own hurt at his rejection.

“I never asked you for anything. Not to feel the way I felt—”

How his breath had hitched after muttering a breathless negative. “No, you didn’t have to ask, Tess. I do feel the same way. You mean the world to me—we’ve been together for thirteen years. How could I not?”

But instead he’d been too stunted to speak, to voice his feelings, to crack the dam he’d been hiding behind for so many years.

“Joel, save who you can save,” and with that, he’d grabbed Ellie and got the fuck out. Didn’t even hesitate, didn’t mutter a goodbye, didn’t look back—his protective instinct taking over, needing to take Ellie to safety.

It still haunted him. Wrecked him even to only think about how he’d wronged her till the very end. He was a bastard, deserving of all the bad things that had happened so far. This was the universe’s retribution for all his wrongdoing.

The woman’s head snapped around in his direction, a deep clicking sound reverberating in her chest. Slowly she got up, dragging one of her feet along the straw, head tilting sideways in an unnatural, mechanical way.

And Joel simply froze. Was this poetic justice? How he was supposed to die? Perhaps it was—the end would most definitely be fitting. It was what he deserved. For being emotionally stunt, for being selfish, for being a coward, for being a murderer. For existing in this world and feeding into its malice. For being a part of the problem.

His shallow breath caught, a flood of memories drowning him—everyone he lost, appearing in front of his eyes like a grotesque newsreel. It felt like a heavy stone was crushing his chest, his lungs constrained within his ribs, his heart pounding fiercely while sweat gathered atop of his brows. Panic bubbling, clouding his mind to a point where Joel couldn’t think straight anymore.

The clicker approached, and this time, he didn’t step back away from her—from Tess. Joel dropped the knife, the woman snarling at him, his eyes shutting close.

The prospect of dying wasn’t daunting, but strangely soothing, his heartrate slowing down. Welcomed.

“Joel? Joel!”

A commotion took him back to the present—you had decked the clicker to the floor, the hilt of your knife gruesomely protruding out of her temple.

Joel blinked—not in relief, but gutted at the lost chance. The irreversibility of such a death would have been a balsam to the open wounds of his soul.

You got up to your feet and threw yourself at him, blissfully unaware of the situation. Or so he thought. You enveloped him in a crushing hug—your warmth seeping through the thick fabric of your coat, reaching his bones.

“Oh my God, Joel. Are you okay? Are you hurt? Has it bit you?” you stumbled over your own words, frantic with a rush of adrenaline.

Your hands patted his neck, his shoulders, his arms, his chest—your eyes wild with worry, searching for any sign of an infected wound. Inspecting him from head to toe, with a concern he’d not seen in someone’s eyes ever before.

Your eyes finally focused on his face and, for whatever reason, they darkened. Your eyebrows lifted into your forehead, the sadness washing over your features was a heartbreaking sight. As if you cared about him—a complete stranger who had only been rude to you, kept you at arm’s length.

“Joel,” you whispered, your ungloved hand raising up to his face.

This time, he didn’t retreat, still coming to terms with the fact that today he wouldn’t yield to the forgetfulness of death.

Your thumb brushed his cheek, a slow, sweet motion as your lips fell into a thin line, a sorrowful pout curling your mouth.

“Joel, why are you crying? What’s the matter?” you uttered, voice tinged with an anxiety he was feeling deep down in his aching bones.

Joel hadn’t realised the sheer magnitude of his emotions until then. Until your fingertips became wet from his unwanted tears. Then it hit him—not the sadness, but the anger.

“I ain’t crying,” he barked, taking a few steps back, the warmth of your hug turning cold. Running the inside of his elbow through his face, Joel turned away from you. “‘S nothing. I’m fine.”

You looked at him doe-eyed, but with a resolution he feared. You shortened the distance he had imposed, getting dangerously close to him, open hands reaching towards him.

“I said I’m fine!” he shouted at you, losing his composure. “What’s the fucking matter with all of you?! Why doesn’t it register in your fucking brains that I want to be left alone, huh? Is it so fucking difficult to comprehend? Are you fucking stupid or are you just pretending to be? God fucking dammit.”

He snarled like the animal he was—like a scared dog cornered, barking and showing teeth, because he dreaded the gentle hand that approached him.

Dreaded falling to his knees and breaking down in front of you, of anyone.

Dreaded opening the dams of his demons and not being able to herd them back inside.

Dreaded that once he spoke the words out loud, they would only be truer.

His heart was racing again, the vein in his neck bulging, blind with a misplaced rage you didn’t deserve. Deep down, he knew you didn’t. But his fear was louder than his reasoning.

Your whole expression folded, taking a step back away from him. Had Joel been the animal he thought himself to be, he would have smelt your fear. But he didn’t need to—the light behind your eyes dimmed, like a lighthouse running out of power in the middle of a stormy night.

You managed to hide your face from him, veering around without a word to head towards the horses.

Only then Joel realised he’d fucked up. He’d mistakenly taken his fury out on you. He wasn’t mad at you―damn, he wasn’t mad at anyone except himself. You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Twice in a row.

“Hey,” Joel called out walking towards you, tone softer with remorse. You quickly glanced at him over your shoulder before your head snapped back to the horse. This time, your eyes transpired no emotion. “Look—”

“I got the message loud and clear, Joel,” you cut him off coldly, getting on your horse. “It’s getting dark. Let’s go back.”

You didn’t wait for him, trotting away before he could get on Old Beardy.

“Fuck,” he groaned under his breath, shaking the reins to catch up with you.

taglist: @wow-life-love4 @denisanoemi @wencontre @ccmoonshine @mystickittytaco @peelieblue @guelyury @marisemonteiroo @fangirlcentral1 @layaispunk @brittmb115 @mrsbilicablog @thedilfdiaries @eff4freddie @missadangel @moel-jiller @sunnytuliptime @queenofdisaster12 @lizzie-cakes @pedrofan @ladywraith @jessthebaker @readingiskeepingmegoing @aleariixx @anoverwhelmingdin @prose-before-hoes

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arisewanekosuki · 3 days ago

Note

If little helper reader had a dendro vision is she compatible at every team comp of dendro like on burgeon, aggravate, bloom, and hyper bloom?

Like for example with Kinich and Emily being burgeon, she gives them up a buff on em(or anything you want in general) making their reactions deal more dmg

Also the little headcannon about little helper reader thinking that every guy likes lumine

I wanna see it on Kinich and ororon hehe

Someone already asked what if she had vision and I answered that I can see her having dendro one! Also here I wrote how her abilites would work, based of her elemental skill she would be compatible mostly with bloom, hyper bloom and burgeon teams.

------ The first thing Ajaw did after learning that Kinich got a crush on you was to just tell you about it. He really wanted to see Kinich being embarrassed or even rejected by you, but what he didn’t predict was that you… just won’t believe him. Of course this didn’t stop him and he continued to tell you about it every time he saw you. After some time the self proclaimed Almighty Dragonlord started to get irritated by it… Your accusations that Ajaw lies or when you didn’t see that Kinich clearly is looking only at you drove him insane sometimes. So one day the pixelated Saurian shouted when you were alone with them. -"How can you not see that this guy has a crush on you?!" You were stunned, Kinich was a bit nervous. Will you finally realize? And if yes, will you accept his feelings or reject them? You sighed, suddenly looking irritated. -"Ajaw... I think you're the blind one, Kinich clearly has feelings towards Lumine!" You said making two boys silent. Both of them were stunned by your declaration. The Saurian Hunter knew what would happen soon so before Ajaw could offend you in any way he locked the little Saurian away. You pouted. -”What’s wrong with him? He spent all the time with you and didn’t realize about your crush on Lumine? Ah but don’t worry I won’t tell her so you can still surprise her!” after the last sentence you innocently smiled. Kinich couldn’t help but ask you where this idea came from. -”May I ask why you think so?” -”Hm? I mean Lumine is the Hero of Natlan and you two get along very well!” Kinich only sighed.-”I respect Lumine, but she is not the one who caught my attention.” -”Oh? So… is it Mualani?! You two have known each other for so long!” Kinich now wonders if it’s some kind of price he has to pay for loving you, but no matter the cost, he won’t give up.

Romance and romantic love is something new for Ororon. For a while he wasn't even sure about his own feelings towards you, Granny Citlali had to educate him about them. And yet after Ororon was sure that what he feels towards you crosses the line of friendship, he had doubts whether to tell you about them or not. It was his first time after all so he wasn’t sure how he should approach this matter. He would give you his best vegetables and if there is anything you needed help with, he would offer his assistance without a second thought but even he realized this is not enough. He decided to borrow some romance novels from Granny to ‘educate’ himself about flirting. The day came when he could try something from those novels. He visited your Teapot and it seems you were alone at the moment in the room. You two talked a bit, Ororon was hyping himself up to do what he planned and then. Thud! His hand slammed into the spot close to your head, he caught you between the wall and himself. He saw you being surprised, that was his chance! But he couldn’t say anything, suddenly feeling too shy. He took a step back and turned around, hiding his blushing face and murmured “I’m sorry”. -”Don’t worry!” You came and patted him on the back “But next time please warn me when you plan to practice how to woo Lumine ok?” His ears perked. -”Woo… Lumine?” he turned and looked at you with confusion written on his face. -”Yes! I will gladly help you win her heart!” You said with excitement in the eyes. -”Ah…no.. I mean… I wasn’t..” he wasn’t sure what to say, something like this never happened in novels he read. Before he could clear the misunderstanding you started to tell him many plans how he can approach the Traveler and court her. Ororon didn’t want to interrupt you, you look so cute when you get excited, but he thinks he will have to ask Granny Citlali for help in the end…

#Anon #answered #ask box #Traveler's little helper #Traveler's little helper ask box #Genshin Impact x Reader #Genshin x Reader #Traveler's little helper What If #Kinich x Reader #Ororon x Reader #Request #My stuff

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lightofraye · 2 days ago

Text

Happy Birthday, Sam Winchester

A little quick story I whipped up. Like I did for Dean, I’m doing for Sam.

Please enjoy. Likes, reblogs and comments are welcome. Please don’t post elsewhere.

—

It was his birthday.

Sam had forgotten, in the chaos of all that had happened over the years. Some years, it was a quick statement and nothing else. Some years, Dean would throw together a little treat, usually some Hostess pastries snatched from a gas station.

Once, it had been a full blown cake from the grocery store.

When they got older, it became beer and take out. And porn. Bless Dean, he honestly thought Sam would enjoy porn.

When Sam was in Stanford with Jessica, he had an actual birthday party. Cake, streamers, presents. He was so overwhelmed, he didn’t know how to react. He’d cried and Jess spent an hour trying to understand why he was so emotional. He couldn’t tell her. How could he? He had wanted to forget that life, bury it.

Then Yellow-Eyes came back and fucked it all up.

In the years that followed, it had been beer and… well, whatever take out they could get. Sam hadn’t expected much, and that was okay. They’d been on the road and couldn’t keep much by way of presents.

As long as he had Dean, Sam was okay. He had his brother.

Life in the bunker created a bit of permanence they hadn’t had before. Oh, sure, they had the Impala, but even Baby had limits in terms of space. But the bunker….

Suddenly, Sam had a smorgasbord of space, of books that he could lose himself in. Dean never stopped calling him a ‘nerd’—despite the fact that Dean knew more about pop culture than he did.

But in everything that happened—Jack, Billie, The Empty, and hell, Chuck—he’d forgotten. He’d lost track of time. He’d forgotten it was his birthday.

So imagine his surprise when he walked into the kitchen, saw Dean awake—before him, no less!—and there was the scent of something baking.

“Dean…?” He rubbed at his eyes. “You’re up early.”

Dean flashed him an awkward smile. “Uh, more like I’m up late.”

Sam blinked, padded into the kitchen, heading to the coffee pot. “Uh, okay. Why are you up this late?”

“Baking.”

Sam froze in shock. “You? You’re baking. You?”

“Well, yeah. I cook!” Dean looked so offended, San had to smile. “I mean, come on. I eat.”

“Obviously. But… why are you cooking?” Sam took a sip of the coffee, the beverage warming his throat.

Dean furrowed his brow at Sam, then smiled. “You forgot.”

“Forgot what?” Sam blinked at his older brother, baffled.

Dean shook his head, a tiny smile dancing across his face. “It’s your birthday, man.”

Sam felt the words land like a hammer. “…oh….”

“You really forgot, didn’t you?” Dean was sympathetic. Jack had just become the new God, and things were still kind of settling into the new norm.

“Uh, yeah.” Sam let out a breath, ran his fingers through his hair. “With everything going on… I didn’t expect you to remember either.”

“Come on, Sammy,” Dean said sincerely, clapping his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “You being born was one of the best days of my life. I’m never gonna forget.”

“Are you really baking me a cake?”

Dean grinned. “Tryin’ to anyway. Oven keeps glitchin’ out on me. Might have to settle for store bought.”

“Dean…” Sam felt his eyes glisten with unshed tears, deeply moved by his brother’s gesture.

“Hey. No chick flick moments.” Dean gripped the back of his brother’s neck, then pulled Sam into a bear hug. “Happy birthday, Sammy.”

Sam embraced him in return, blinked back the tears. This, here, right now, was the best birthday he ever had.

“Thanks, Dean.”

#supernatural #spn #supernatural fanfiction #happy birthday sammy #happy birthday Sam Winchester #sam winchester

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indigosunsetao3 · 2 days ago

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Chapter 8

Repairing old wounds and making new ones.

AO3 (Full list of tags/warnings. Please check them.) Masterlist 7.8k Words

Chapters 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

When Celeste’s phone dinged with a notification, she dug it out of her purse and glanced at it. A new message from Johnny was waiting for her, and she shifted the shopping trolley she was pushing to unlock the screen to see what he had to say. After everything that had happened with her den, John had been insistent that she have their numbers should anything else crop up. But also allow them to keep in contact and let her know when they would be working in her house.

Celeste had resisted their continued help. Tried to fend them off saying she would just call someone to do come out and do the work. She didn’t want to feel like she owed them more than she already did and felt it was crossing the line to have your neighbors do work for you. What if it went poorly? Maybe they charged her more than she could manage or did something she didn’t like and there was a falling out. She was already warring with Mrs. Nettles about trash bins, which she had put solar spotlights on just to poke the angry bear, she didn’t want a fight with these men. She had a feeling they would be much better at making her life miserable than a nosey old lady. And Celeste sure as hell would not be leaving this house, it was the last piece of her husband she really had.

John is out for the day so I’m going to work on the floors. They’re the one thing he trusts me to do without him hovering. I won’t be disrupting anything will I? No, all good. I’ll be there in a bit. Stopped in town for a few things. Do I need to pick up anything for the house? Simon’s at the hardware store getting what we need.

Stuffing her phone back in her purse Celeste went back to shopping, taking her time to wander down the aisles. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to go home, but it was still a bit awkward around the men in her house. Feeling as if she were just lurking in their presence as they came in and out, hauling moldy carpet, climbing on the roof, yelling at one another when things weren’t going as planned, and laughing behind a closed door as they ribbed one another when they were. She had tried to stay out of the way, reading on the couch or wandering outside but that felt odd too, just watching them work on her place without helping. But every time she asked if there was anything she could do, they would tell her no, to relax or take care of anything else she needed.

After wandering the grocery aisles for a third time, Celeste gave up wasting time and finished shopping. She had a few frozen things to get home with, and the days were getting warmer, so they wouldn’t keep as long in the car. The ride home took a little longer than usual, not drastically, but enough for her to take notice that the early tourists were starting to arrive. It wouldn’t be long before the spring festival to kick off the season was there, which meant more chaos at work.

“Hey you,” Celeste said with a grin as she shouldered open the front door to find Samson sitting on the small table that housed her bowl of keys and the rest of her junk that didn’t have a home.

Diligently, Celeste set her keyring in the bowl so as not to misplace them, her eyes lingering on the shiny new key in her favorite shade of blue. How Simon had figured out blue was her favorite color, she wasn’t sure, but when she came home one day to both doors rekeyed, he silently handed her the master key to put somewhere safe and her key. He also let her know that the guys would be keeping a spare at their place if she was comfortable with it. Just so they could get in and out while working on the place, and for emergencies. Celeste agreed, if only for convenience, and the fact he had thrown away the fake rock where she kept the spare key. He didn’t even look mildly ashamed to admit it either as she huffed at him.

“I’m surprised you aren’t outside, it’s a pretty day,” Celeste continued talking to Samson as she scratched his ears and kicked the door shut, which also no longer stuck on the uneven tile. Simon must have adjusted it when he set about redoing the locks.

“He was,” Johnny called from the top of the stairs, his voice a little breathless from stacking support beams. “Until he decided chasing my bootlaces while I hauled in wood was more interesting.”

“He’ll do that,” Celeste said with a small laugh as she lugged her overstuffed bags of groceries into the kitchen.

Ever since the embarrassment of not having cat food, Celeste had been vigilant in actually going to the store. It had only been a few weeks, but she wasn’t about to have another incident of having to ask the guys for anything else. Having them around had forced her to assess her current situation besides the giant hole in her den ceiling. To actually take a good look at how she was living, and not just in a figurative sense. Her place was a stale tomb. Alice had said it a few times, but Celeste ignored it until strangers came into her house and she really saw what it looked like. It was as if she were a ghost living in her own place. It didn’t look lived in, with dust collecting on everything, nothing on the walls, and barren shelves.

Being forced to reckon with the den meant ripping off the band aid of all the things she had tried to pack away. Which would force her to speedily decorate and clean. Between the men working on the structural damage, she had spent her evenings actively going through all the boxes she had been ignoring. Shifting things out of the room so it wasn’t in the way and taking items to the rooms she wanted them in.

The work had started out exhausting, mentally and physically, having to keep working hours after her actual job and dealing with the emotional whiplash. But it had lit a bit of fire in her once she started seeing all the memories she had packed away months ago. Each night, she felt it become a little less draining. Even when her framed handwritten wedding vows had sent her into a sobbing fit that ended with John quietly handing her a cup of tea and scaring the shit out of her because she didn’t realize he was there.

“Simon is going to bring a receipt for these things he’s picking up, right?” Celeste asked from the doorway a few minutes later as she looked into the den where Johnny was.

“I told him to,” Johnny answered as he looked up from where he was lying on his stomach with his hands in the hole in the floor. “Doesn’t always listen to me though.”

The roof had been a repair that was out of everyone’s hands. The cottage didn’t have standard shingles, they were wood and required specialty ordering and installation. Celeste’s insurance luckily covered a good portion of it, but there was still a huge amount she had to pay out of pocket, which hurt her wallet. She had a bit of savings built up from her husband’s life insurance and other assets, but with her current job and being on a single income, putting money back into that savings was a bit harder when she had to withdraw from it.

And while Celeste couldn’t prove it, the guys were being a bit dodgy when it came to the rest of the purchases for repairs. She didn’t want to feel like she owed anyone favors, let alone money, so when the guys showed up with materials, she was always ready to shove money into their hands. But there was always an excuse. They lost the receipt, this was just left over from their own house so it didn’t cost them anything, or her favorite from Kyle ‘found it on the side of the road.’ The one time she managed to get Johnny to take the bills, they had mysteriously appeared back in her wallet two days later.

“None of you listen,” Celeste sighed as she walked over to a box she had started on the night before, smiling just a bit to herself at the vase of flowers in one of the windows.

“We listen,” Johnny answered as he grunted, tugging at something, “but that doesn’t mean we are going to do it.”

“How bad is the floor?” Celeste dared to ask as she flopped down and crossed her legs to get to work on her own project. This box at least looked like mostly her junk, so there were no risks of jump scares of emotions.

“It’s,” Johnny hesitated, “not great.” He grinned a bit as he looked over at Celeste, who rolled her head back to look up at the ceiling with a loud sigh. “But we can fix it. Just going to shore up the structure before we lay down the rest of the subfloor.”

“Would I have gone through it if I stood on it?”

“Maybe not you, but John for sure,” Johnny stated before waving a hand to gesture for her to come over. “Want me to show you?”

“I’m not sure I want to see, but why not,” Celeste answered before shifting to her hands and knees to shuffle over so she was knelt next to him.

The area Johnny was working on looked bleak and, if she were honest, a bit scary.

She knew it was going to be bad when they had ripped the carpeting out of the whole room, deeming it unsalvageable, even where it hadn’t been wet. Every section they pulled they kept finding more and more mold until they got to the walls. The subfloor was okay the further away it was from the direct damage, the carpet and padding took most of the brunt of the spores that had spread. The area that had been dripped on for weeks they had ripped up the plywood which crumbled in their hands. The insulation underneath was soaked and unusable, and there were burn marks in some of it because of the old wiring.

Now that the supports were fully visible, Celeste could see years of different damage. Spots had been eaten by termites, evidence of mice, and plain rotted out spots. John thought that they could seal the sheetrock that doubled as her kitchen ceiling to kill any other mold that hadn’t sprouted, but he was insistent Celeste keep an eye on the ceiling downstairs. They had rewired any exposed wiring, leaving Celeste in the dark literally overnight a few days ago. Kyle had tried to convince her to stay at their house with the power being cut, but Celeste had insisted on staying home. Even if that meant moving around the house with a flashlight and banging her shins more than once.

“The supports are still in working order in most spots,” Johnny explained as he pointed the beam of his torch for Celeste’s eyes to follow. “But we have a few we need to add some reinforcement,” he pointed to a piece that had cracked in the middle. “I’ll run boards from the good spots to take the load off the bad ones.” He continued before turning his head to look up at Celeste who was leaned over, hands on her knees to peer inside.

“What’s to say the rest of the house doesn’t have these issues?” Celeste asked as she eyed a suspicious looking stain on one of the beams.

“Unless you have other leaks,” Johnny answered as he groped to his side to grab a precut piece of wood, “you should be fine. May have to renovate them at some point just for the age,” he continued as he maneuvered the wood into place. “But it’s a good thing we’ll be here to help,” he winked.

“Well, I don’t ever plan on leaving, so I guess I’ll keep it in the back of my mind,” Celeste answered as she watched Johnny hold the wood in one broad hand before grabbing the nail gun.

“Are you busy with anything?” Johnny asked as he pulled the wire to give himself more slack.

“Ah,” Celeste glanced back at her box of junk before back to Johnny, “not really. Is there something I can help with?”

“Nail this board in for me. Be easier for me to just hold it in place,” Johnny said. When he saw Celeste’s eyes get big and she was about to back out he tacked on, “you just need to press the gun to the board and pull the trigger. Doesn’t matter where, as long as it’s not my hand…or yours.”

“I’ve never,” Celeste started as he held the contraption out to her. It was heavy and she had to grip it with both hands as she looked at it before back to him.

“Right there,” Johnny pointed with one of his fingers as he supported the board. “Just press the gun down as hard as you can and pull the trigger.”

She was still completely unsure, but Celeste nodded once before leaning over to press the nail gun to the board. If she could help in any way to put her place back together, she was going to. It would help ease the guilt and the feeling that she was taking advantage of them. The angle was awkward, and she pressed her hand on the back of the gun to hold it in place before darting her eyes up to Johnny, who was watching her face.

“Good?” She asked, and when he nodded, she gave him a disbelieving look before pulling the trigger.

The blowback of the air pushed the hair out of her face, and the loud pop made her shriek in surprise, to which Johnny laughed. That was why he was looking at her, to see her freak out, because he knew it would happen. She scowled and pulled the gun back, only to find the nail hadn’t gone in all the way, it was still sticking out halfway.

“Damn,” Celeste muttered as she looked at it. She tried to pry it out with her hands, but it was just far enough that she couldn’t. She gave up trying before Johnny plucked it out of the wood without barely straining and tossed it over his shoulder.

“Not a problem. You just weren’t holding it tight enough against the board,” he explained as he gestured for her to try again. “The compression of the air pushed the gun off the wood. Go again now that you know what to expect,” he nodded his head for her to try again.

This time, as Celeste lined the gun up and pressed against the back of the gun, he put one of his hands over hers and pressed down as well. His grip was strong and warm, completely engulfing her hand with his as he held the gun steady and in place. When Celeste pulled the trigger this time, the blowback was just as strong, but it didn’t kick back as hard because she felt Johnny press down even harder to hold the gun in place.

“There you go,” Johnny said approvingly as they lifted the gun away. The nail was in the wood, sunken in a bit from the pressure. “Few more to go,” he stated.

Celeste adjusted to get on her stomach like him, and together, they worked on nailing the boards. Her hands were sore and ached by the time they finished. She had still messed up a few when she attempted to do it herself, but it was satisfying when they finished and looked down at the fresh wood that replaced or reinforced all the old pieces.

“Food’s ready,” came a voice that made Celeste jump, but Johnny merely grinned.

“For someone so large, you are so quiet!” Celeste admonished as she looked up at Simon from her stomach as he loomed in the doorway.

“You get used to it,” Johnny answered as he pushed himself up in a push up position before getting on his knees and standing, offering his hand to Celeste to help her up. “John will want to inspect before we lay down the plywood,” he explained as Simon walked over to look at their work. “So, we can call it a night.”

“Enjoy dinner,” Celeste replied with a grin as Johnny took a step closer to Simon, he always seemed to gravitate toward him no matter the situation.

“I didn’t get food just for him,” Simon replied as he raised an eyebrow, “I know I’m rude, but I’m not that rude.”

“Oh, I,” Celeste felt herself growing hot. “You didn’t have to,” she started, “I actually bought myself groceries today for once.”

“Good, you can feed yourself tomorrow. Now before it gets cold or Samson gets into it, let’s eat. I set the table.” He stepped aside to let Johnny and Celeste out of the room, shutting the door behind him to prevent the curious orange cat from exploring.

----------------------------

Cleared.

The one word Kyle had been itching to hear for weeks. He hated being put on the sidelines, waiting around while the rest of them worked. It felt like a deadweight to the team, and while he knew none of them felt that way, it still bothered him. And being cleared meant he could get back out in the field and not be stuck at home all the time with his thoughts. At least when they were working, Kyle knew exactly where he stood in everyone’s eyes. There was no question as to what he brought to the table and that John valued him. At home, it was a whole different story.

John had gone with Kyle for his official appointment to get back to active work. All the other appointments had been check ins and physical therapy closer to home, but this was all the way in London. It was a long drive, almost six hours, from their place so he had booked a hotel to stay overnight. When Simon gave him an eyebrow raise when he told him he was going, he had used the excuse he needed to meet with a few contacts on the Russian issue. Simon let it drop, but John knew that he could see right through him.

“Picked up some food from the bar,” John stated as he walked into the hotel room to find Kyle already lounged on his queen-sized bed on the far side of the room. “Figured you had a tiring day.”

“Going to need another week to recover,” Kyle joked as he extended and flexed his arm.

He was sore, they had put him through some rough paces. Running, lifting, prolonged extension and raises. They had poked and prodded him, and while he bit his cheek to not let it show, some of the spots were still sensitive to touch. But after a few hours, bloodwork, x-rays and the requested re-test on shooting, at John’s discretion, they said he was fit for duty. Kyle knew if he was going keep up with the rest of the team he was going to have to work quickly to get back into the shape they were.

“You take all the time you need, we’re doing alright,” John answered as he sat down hard on his bed, which squeaked loudly. While running a three man team was less than ideal, just the thought of Kyle being out in the field again made him anxious. He blamed it on what he had to do to keep him alive, ignoring the other glaring reason.

“No, I’m good,” Kyle answered quickly as he sat up and reached his hand out for the take away box. “I’m climbing the walls at home while you’re gone.”

John glanced up at Kyle at that while handing him his food; burger cooked just like he liked, extra mayo, no pickles, and vinegar for his chips. He knew what he meant, knew that he would also climb the walls if he was stuck at home when his men were at work. Though, that small spark he worked on stuffing down lit up at the implication that Kyle missed him while he was gone. That he wanted John around, was worried about him when he was away and couldn’t wait for him to be home or be around him. But then he went and squashed it away, hurting his own feelings with the next question.

“Celeste not keeping you busy?” John asked with a small, forced grin and eyebrow raise. “The flowers were a nice touch.”

“Her den is dismal, she needed something,” Kyle reasoned as he dipped a chip in the small plastic container that held his vinegar. “And her garden is overgrown, killed two birds with one stone.” If John was going to be obtuse then fine. He would let him.

“I think you made Johnny jealous you did it first,” John joked as he toed off his shoes and shifted to lean back on the headboard of his bed to eat. This was easier, talking about Kyle and Celeste, push him toward that pursuit even if it hurt in more ways than one.

“Johnny can get Simon flowers if he needs the attention,” Kyle answered as he mirrored John and leaned back against his own headboard. “He’s got his own tricks up his sleeve anyway. Simon, too, in his own quiet way.”

“Poor girl has no idea what she’s gotten herself into,” John answered with a small chuckle.

He knew his men better than anyone else. He could see how they sat up a little straighter, looked just a bit more interested, and always brought the conversation back around to her. They all said it was out of concern, being friendly, but there was more to it. More to the way Simon silently hovered when she insisted on moving the heavy boxes herself. How Johnny stooped a bit to get down to her level to be able to look her in the eye better. When Kyle would grin just a fraction wider, the one dimple in his cheek popping, as she talked to him.

“Don’t act like you also aren’t interested,” Kyle prodded as he flipped the channel to the football game. “I see how you get flustered,” he joked, pretending he didn’t ache that John didn’t act that way around him. “Not used to someone telling you no, are you?”

“I’m not used to someone being so determined to do everything the hard way,” John countered. “I can deal with stubborn and bullheaded,” he looked pointedly at Kyle, “but she just flat out won’t listen.”

John had told Celeste over and over that he and the guys would take care of the issue in her den. He’d make the arrangements for contractors if they needed it, he knew plenty, and they’d fix what they could themselves. Money they could figure out later, that she needn’t worry about that at the moment. John knew she was on a fixed income compared to the four of them who made money for every contract they took. Not to mention their pensions. But she wouldn’t have it. Just the other day she had called a plumber to fix her leaking sinks and John had to run the guy off when he arrived, slipping him a twenty pound note for his troubles.

“You aren’t her Captain. She doesn’t have to listen,” Kyle reasoned, pausing for mid bite to watch the goalie save the ball. “Damn,” he muttered as he took a bite of his burger.

John let the conversation drop as they both focused on the game, picking up on the fact Kyle wasn’t interested in talking about Celeste any longer. The tension between them was thick these days, but one thing that was still easy for them was football. It had been the thing that bonded them in the beginning, Simon and Johnny not nearly as big of fans, and made things feel normal. Even out in the field, when tensions were high for other reasons, they could fall into sports talk.

When the game wrapped, Chelsea having their arse absolutely handed to them, Kyle cleaned up dinner while John showered. It almost felt that John didn’t want to be alone with Kyle, not without distraction, and he all but bolted from the bed. The easiest solution would have been to book two rooms, but John insisted on just sharing one. For a brief second, Kyle felt his stomach squirm with anticipation when John stood fast on that point, leveling him with a look when he tried to argue. It wasn’t unusual, the four of them would pile into a closet to sleep if needed, but John had an option this time, and he still picked to be with Kyle.

“Liverpool and Burnley play here in a moment,” Kyle said vaguely when John walked out of the bathroom.

“Not much of a game,” John noted as he toweled off his hair, throwing the linen onto one of the stiff backed chairs. “But may as well.”

Settling under the sheets, hiding the grimace on his face from the burn in his shoulder as he pulled off his shirt, Kyle turned his attention to the game. Ignoring the desire to just look at John as he lounged on top of the sheets in nothing but a pair of shorts, hand tucked behind his head as he stared at the screen. Kyle didn’t know if he did it on purpose or not, but it was getting harder and harder to just not scream his frustration. To ask John if he knew what he was doing. If he enjoyed torturing Kyle like this. Booking a single room, walking around barely clothed, making him jealous with the mention of Celeste even if Kyle also had an attraction to her. Being figuratively and literally, just out of reach no matter how close Kyle was to him.

“Fuck, that’s a red card. Don’t know why he’s waiting,” John muttered after a bit as he watched a player get in the ref's face. He looked over to Kyle to see if he agreed, but he had nodded off. Still half sitting up with his head drooped to the side, breathing softly.

Quietly, John grabbed the remote and turned the volume down a few notches before setting it back on the nightstand. His eyes roved over Kyle, taking in the way his eyes fluttered from a dream and the slow way his chest rose and fell. He always looked so much softer, younger, when he slept. The stress of life smoothed away to reveal the gentle person underneath. The one that wasn’t hardened, wasn’t angry or on edge. The person Kyle may have been if John hadn’t intervened that day in Picadilly and recruited him to his task force. He could have served his time, retired with honor, and been a civilian with an easier life, a life with someone like Celeste. Grow old, and be safe from all of this.

But John had been selfish.

He had seen Kyle’s potential and sucked him in, and was leading him right down the same path he took. Of his three men, Kyle was the one that could survive without the job, could have made something else of his life. Johnny and Simon lived and breathed for the military; they needed it like they needed air, just like him. But Kyle was better than them, he could do so much more. But he still chose to stay around, to follow all of them into the next fight. Always ready to charge head first despite the risks. And never one to back down even when certain death was waiting on them, which is what almost made John lose him last time. Why the right side of his chest was peppered with fresh scars and a mangled bullet hole in his shoulder.

John finished the game, glancing at Kyle as he barely woke from his sleep to shift further under the sheets and roll over. It wasn’t too late, but they had been up early to make it for Kyle’s appointment, so when John glanced at the clock reflecting almost ten, he opted to just cut off the television and go to sleep himself. If they wanted to get back tomorrow at a decent time, they’d need to be on the road just after dawn. John was hoping to get the floor in solid at Celeste’s so they could start working on the ceiling.

Kyle rolled over in his sleep, wincing a bit at the noise as it pulled him from his doze. The hotel beds were horrible, they squeaked and groaned, and it seemed to linger, echoing, once he stopped moving. Shifting a bit, thinking that perhaps he had rolled onto a spring that was coiled under him making all the racket, Kyle waited for it to cease. In his half-asleep daze, he reached out with a fisted hand to hit the bed to make it stop, as it just continued on. He was about to sit up and grab his phone to see if he could find the source of the noise when he heard the gasp. That roused him fully, shaking the sleep from his brain as he listened to his surroundings as he gained his bearings. It wasn’t his bed, and it wasn’t his gasp. It was John.

Throwing back the blankets, Kyle sat up and reached for the bedside lamp, squinting at the dim light from the nearly burnt out bulb as it came on. John was on his back, his face contorted as he thrashed in his sleep, arms tangled in the sheets as he fought some invisible enemy. There was sweat on his face, and the way his chest heaved, Kyle knew he had been at this for a while, but it hadn’t woken him up.

Nightmares weren’t new for any of them. There had been times Kyle had been jolted awake from Simon yelling in his sleep or Johnny groaning in pain. He had woken himself up plenty of times and had been shaken awake by John as he fell from the helicopter for the hundredth time. But John somehow always managed to keep his nightmares quiet, away from them. It was rare that he needed someone to pull him from them, and it was always Simon who would step in. Waking someone up from a flashback nightmare was a risk in its own, the brain not always able to differentiate reality from sleep. But Kyle wasn’t going to let John suffer, he was clearly panicked and perhaps even crying with the way he was gasping for air.

“John,” Kyle said, his voice still thick from sleep. “John, wake up,” he tried as he rose up from his bed and crossed the small gap between them. “Hey,” he reached out and tried to grab at his arm, but it flailed under the comforter and out of his reach. Moving to grab his shoulder, Kyle could feel the heat come off of him and the slick sweat that coated his bare skin. “John, wake up,” Kyle said firmly as he shook him a bit harder. It wasn’t working.

Wherever John was, he was deep and lost in it.

He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Everything was happening too fast for him to be able to do anything. There was blood all around, on the streets, on his pants, his shirt, his hands. And the screaming. The screams were circling him but also right at his feet. Simon was yelling at him to do something, but John couldn’t move, couldn’t get past the weight that was pinning his feet to the sidewalk as he watched. Watched Kyle shiver with pain on the ground as blood oozed seemingly from everywhere, leaking onto the concrete to mix with other’s blood and flesh.

The painful gasps that Kyle took to try and breathe as he fruitlessly ripped at his kit to try and get it off felt like a thousand knives to John’s ears. He needed to help him, to do something, but he was going too slow. He couldn’t get his limbs to work right, and as he fumbled with the Velcro on Kyle’s vest, the man screamed out and tried to pull away from the pain. The panic in his eyes was evident. He knew this wasn’t a wound you walked away from; it was one that he may not live past five minutes from. And his terrified eyes locked on John’s as he grabbed for him, his fingers grasping at his arms sliding in the thick blood that coated them.

“Kyle,” John groaned out.

“I’m here, John,” Kyle tried, thinking he was finally getting him awake. “Just a nightmare, come on,” he tried as he ripped at the sheets to get them away from his neck to free him a bit from the restraint.

He needed to get the bullet out. He was bleeding too badly, and they couldn’t pack it with the bullet lodged in there. Simon was fighting against Kyle as he thrashed in his hysteria of pain to try and make it stop, shaking fingers trying to rip at the gaping wound in his shoulder. Johnny was laying down cover fire as John knelt by Kyle’s side, trying to assess the damage.

He looked at the bulletproof vest that had been obliterated by the bomb shrapnel. His skin was twisted along his stomach, peppered with sharp pieces of metal between the holes in his shirt. No. No. No. He couldn’t lose Kyle. Not like this. Kyle was screaming in pain, his voice growing hoarse from the overuse and exhaustion. He needed to do something.

With a grunt, Simon placed a blood-soaked glove on Kyle’s cheek. He shoved his face to the side, the screams reaching a new octave as the wound in Kyle's shoulder was stretched. Simon didn’t hesitate as he knelt on Kyle’s good arm while the other hand held down his shredded right arm. It was now or never to get that bullet out.

“Do it,” Simon yelled as John plunged his fingers into the jagged wound.

“John!” Kyle snapped as John made a shuddering gasp and then held his breath as if he had just jumped into water. He stopped moving, stopped everything except for his eyes, which were flicking back and forth rapidly behind his eyelids. “Wake up,” Kyle insisted as he bodily lifted his shoulders off the bed a few inches and shoved him back down hard, hoping the sensation of falling would wake him.

It worked.

John inhaled a breath like a drowning man and snapped his eyes open. He didn’t know where he was, but he knew Kyle was there. He could hear him, see him in the light of the room, wherever it was. Then the panic set in. He hadn’t saved him. He failed. Kyle was gone, and this was some fucked up vision of him, an embodiment of his guilt for it. For everything. He could still feel the sticky blood on his arms, but he was too scared to look, afraid if he took his eyes off Kyle, he’d disappear.

“Hey,” Kyle said softly as he saw the wild look in John’s eyes. He was awake, but he wasn’t back. Not fully. “You’re safe,” he continued, using the words his therapist had drilled in him for when he had nightmares of his own. “You’re safe, in bed. No threats.”

“You’re here,” John said, his voice a husky whisper as he looked at Kyle. “I’m sorry for everything,” he breathed, feeling the tears. “I’m sorry I couldn’t,” he swallowed, though his mouth felt like sandpaper. “It’s my fault.”

“John, I’m okay,” Kyle said, trying to put the pieces together as to what his nightmare had been. “Look, see?” Kyle offered as he gestured to his arm. “All in one piece, a banged up piece, but a piece,” he suggested gently as John continued to look at him wide eyed, his pupils a bit blown.

“I watched you bleed,” John continued, his eyes roving over Kyle. His eyes were adjusting to the light and he could see him a bit better, not just a hazy glow. “All over the street, me,” he looked down at himself, fully expecting to see blood, but only saw the crisp white sheets and his own bare chest. “I felt you go limp in my arms,” he took a sharp breath as if trying to keep himself together and not fully break down.

“But I’m okay,” Kyle reasoned as he watched John struggle. It was so rare to see him vulnerable, it was almost enough for Kyle to fall apart. To see the fear, the dread. Despite being a fully grown man Kyle could only see a small child, one that needed someone else to be the strong person for once. “You got me out, we all got out,” he pulled the sheets back a bit more to reveal John’s chest and stomach to help him cool off, his hair gleaming with sweat. “Try sitting up, let me get you water,” he offered.

“No,” John said instantly, still afraid if Kyle moved, if he stopped looking at him, he’d disappear. “Just, stay, don’t leave.”

“I’m just going to get you water,” Kyle started, but when John reached for his arm, he held still. His hands were shaking, and Kyle scooted a bit closer. “See? I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. You kept me alive, John. It was just a nightmare.”

“It was too real,” John murmured as he held Kyle’s forearm, fingers feeling a few of the jagged scars from the shrapnel.

“But it wasn’t real. I’m here, alive, breathing,” Kyle said as he locked into John’s eyes to keep him from frantically looking around. It wasn’t sinking in. The look in John’s eyes didn’t fade. If anything he looked more worried, as if Kyle were going to evaporate.

Softly, Kyle peeled John’s fingers off his forearm and dared to put them to his chest. To let him feel his heartbeat, his breathing. It was perhaps a bit intimate to be this close, but it was all Kyle could think of to let John truly see he was alive and okay. He felt the hesitation in John’s hand, but when his sweaty palm connected with Kyle’s skin and he felt the steady beat, John seemed to relax a bit, sinking down into the bed.

“It’s my fault you even got hurt if I had just-“ John tried to reason as he flexed his fingers on his chest as if to hold on.

“John,” Kyle said firmly. “It’s part of the job. You can’t save me from everything, just like I can’t save you or Simon or Johnny. We know what we signed up for,” Kyle answered. “I live with the fear every day, every minute.”

“If I had been quicker,” John tried.

“Then we both would have taken that hit from the bomb, and I probably would have been dead,” Kyle answered and felt a twinge of regret at the flinch that crossed John’s face. “But I’m not. And you’re not.”

“I’m sorry,” John said after a beat of silence, “don’t,” he added as Kyle opened his mouth to continue arguing. To try and absolve him from the guilt that was eating him alive. "Just let me be sorry and…stay with me.”

“I’m not going anywhere, my bed is right there,” Kyle reasoned quietly, gesturing toward his bed, as John’s breathing finally started to even out and his eyes looked less haunted. Yet he didn’t remove his hand from his chest, if anything he tightened his grip.

“That’s too far,” John stated in almost a whisper. He knew he’d regret this in the morning, giving in to what he had been fighting for so long. But he needed something. Need to feel Kyle alive, there with him. Watching him die in his sleep every night was its own torture.

“I,” Kyle started before looking at John’s desperate face. “Okay,” he breathed.

This was hardly the way Kyle was hoping this would go, but he needed to put his feelings aside. His Captain, and fellow soldier, needed him. He was going to help him even if it just rubbed salt in his own wound and broke his heart tomorrow. How many times had he just laid with Johnny to be his ground when he was so wrapped in his head that he couldn’t determine what was real and what was a memory. He could do this for John, especially since he was asking for help this time instead of suffering alone.

John shifted a bit in the bed, doing his best to keep out of his head, when Kyle leaned over and flipped off the light. The dark helped with the awkward feeling, and he told himself that this was no different than when they piled in for a catnap before evac. Except it was just the two of them instead of all four. And Kyle was only in his boxers instead of a full kit as he slipped under the sheets.

“Thank you,” John said after long minutes of lying side by side, barely touching as they stared at the dark ceiling.

“You’d do it for me,” Kyle replied as he fought the urge to fidget with how nervous he was feeling. With Johnny it was easy. He curled up against him and held him tight as he fought through whatever it was he was facing. Then, when Johnny calmed himself enough, they’d talk about it. But John felt like that bomb that had nearly killed him. Any wrong move would set it off and ruin everything.

“I would,” John agreed, “but you have Johnny and Simon.” He ventured, noting that Kyle seemingly avoided going to him these days.

“You have Johnny and Simon, too,” Kyle answered as he turned his head to look at John, even if he couldn’t see him. “And me. If you’d let us.”

“I’m trying,” John breathed out, the darkness making it a bit easier to let his guard down. “It’s different, with me being Captain. I can’t,” he fought for the words but Kyle stopped him.

“Talking has nothing to do with your rank,” Kyle said. “Tell me what you were dreaming about. It gets easier the more you talk.”

“I see it,” John finally said into the dark, pointedly keeping his eyes on the ceiling despite knowing Kyle had turned over to face him, tucking one of his hands under his head to get more comfortable.

“Almost every night. That street, watching us get overrun, you doubling back for the civilians,” he paused. “I see the way you jerk to the side and fall to your knees as the bullet hits home, but you still,” he paused to take a few breaths, seeing everything as he talked. “You still got up to get them out, get them to safety even as you couldn’t even hold up your gun. Arm useless,” he was losing the fight to keep it together. “Then when the bomb,” he gasped, just like he did in his dreams to keep the sob back. “I thought you were gone in that instant. I thought I just watched you die in the flash.”

“But I didn’t,” Kyle reassured as he barely made out John’s profile, his eyes growing accustomed to the dark again. “I was awake that whole time,” he added, never having told John his side of it. “The shot, the explosion, hitting the ground,” he winced at that memory. “I watched you drop everything to run for me, not caring about yourself. How you dragged me behind the barrier, and Simon came over to help. It hurt, I thought I was dying,” he wasn’t going to lie. “But I fought it. Though when you dug that bullet out, I couldn’t fend off passing out,” he smiled, hoping it would translate in his tone. “I thought that was the end until I woke up in hospital. With you in the same spot next to me, in the same clothes you were in on the street. Still dirty and bloodstained. Simon said you hadn’t left.”

“Two days,” John replied. “The nurses were tired of me, tried to get me to change, but I was afraid if I left…I’d come back, and you’d be gone.”

“When I woke up, you left,” Kyle pushed, perhaps using the vulnerability to his advantage to get some sort of answer. “Why?”

“I couldn’t face you,” John answered as he finally turned his head to face Kyle. “Face what I had let happen. Face the disappointment, anger. They didn’t know if you’d recover, if you’d be able to use your arm properly again. It would have been my fault. Digging that bullet out could have done worse damage, mixed with the shrapnel.”

“Digging that bullet out kept me alive, John. I’d rather be alive with you than dead with a bullet,” Kyle answered firmly and finally dared to reach his arm out to wrap around John to pull him closer. He pressed his chest against John’s arm and ran his thumb reassuringly on John’s bicep when he didn’t pull away. “Stop beating yourself up for doing what you needed to do. I’m alive, I’m here, because of you.”

John didn’t answer, the words echoing in his mind as Kyle inched closer to curl against him, shifting enough to rest his head on his shoulder. It felt beyond comforting to feel each sharp angle and soft curve of Kyle pressed to him. To be able to wrap his own arm behind his back to firmly keep him against his side as Kyle adjusted to get more comfortable, sliding his leg over his.

They didn’t say anything more as they lay in the dark, wrapped up in one another. Letting their breathing and subtle shifts of their bodies fill the silence as they eased back into rest. John laid awake for a long while, long after Kyle had dozed, and did his best to memorize the feel of him. To take in what he had been denying himself for so long. And when he was sure Kyle was completely asleep, John pressed his lips to his forehead while he waged a war in his mind on what to do when the sun rose.

#poly tf141 #poly 141 #polyamory #call of duty #cod #call of duty fanfic #codfanfic #my fic #original female character #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #john price #captain john price #Lifeline

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the-grey-hunt · 9 months ago

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(---> has been struck down for the second time) literally just emailed my doctor with the subject line "covid :("

#alatar speaks #argh im supposed to be attending a funeral next weekend #could things please stop happening to me for a little bit

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termagax · 9 months ago

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re: "good girl" i think they say it once randomly as a joke and its just one of those things that gets him wayyy more than they expected it would. so now its their secret weapon and they use it very sparingly and every single time he gets super embarrassed about it but it works ill tell you what.

#HES MY PRINCESS IDEK.#i dont think it happens naturally all that much because theyre usually in the business of calling each other names and being mean #so i think this would just be a random night where theyre on top and just think it would be really funny. to yank on his leash and call him #a good girl after bullying him into doing something. and well i just think it would get him is all i dont knowwwwwwwwwwwwww #i havr a lot of thoughts on the matter but i will stop for now #but the tldr is that with each other they tend to switch frequently and are always fighting #so i think itd take someone else being in the picture for hog to even realize how much he likes being a good boy :3 #and i also dont think fish would be good at straightforward domming in the way he would want and they both know that #so its something he keeps between him and rat mostly. please dont ask me questions abt jrs sex life i have too many opinions on it #anyways. i think even tho fish knows theyd be bad at that they still feel left out so sometimes they go watch. they dont get anything out of #doing that theyre just sort of taking mental notes #all of this circles back to i think fish has always been the more sexually experienced of the two. and romantically.#i dont rlly think hog is a guy who dates i dont think hes ever been that and i dont think he made much time for hookups #(i think its cute if hes a virgin when they meet but 🤷 im not solid on it)#but i think for him hes just only ever fucked this one person and they do a LOT of stuff and it gets the job done so hes just never really #tried anything else. but. and again i have too many opinions on this but i think rat wouldnt be into their usual shteeze #i think hes a bit of a freak in his own way but the blood and weird anger issues is just not doing it for him most of the time #but i do think if given the opportunity he would LOVE to be The Boss for a little bit so i think he and hog can explore that together and it #will work out beautifully for them. this is great because i am not into strict d/s dynamics like that but i know in my heart that hoggy #would be. and i cant do that for him #again i think fish would be butthurt about this. mostly in a 'why didnt u tell me so we could try this :(' and he would go #'because you would suck at it and wouldnt like it' and they go oh. right. well im still mad #ANYWAYS. circling back. i think the good girl thing would be something fish knows that rat doesnt. and idk if theyd tell him or not #because i do think if they tell him he is using that for evil hog is going to be a good girl forever and ever. rat doesnt have the patience #to space it out the way fish does. which idk maybe thatd be good for hog he could work through some stuff...#but on the other hand i think its fun if they DONT tell him and just bust it out sometime when all 3 of them are doing the deed. or whatever #because again they mostly like how embarrassed he gets about it and i think he would be reallyyyy flustered by it #^ this is essentially part of my fantasy about spitroasting my beautiful wife until he cries just so everyone knows #idk i just think when he lets go of himself hed be a very cute and kind of needy subby bottom and i think hed be really easy to fluster #about it and i want it so bad

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shadesofmauve · 4 months ago

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I want to step away from the art-vs-artist side of the Gaiman issue for a bit, and talk about, well, the rest of it. Because those emotions you're feeling would be the same without the art; the art just adds another layer.

Source: I worked with a guy who turned out to be heavily involved in an international, multi-state sex-slavery/trafficking ring.

He was really nice.

Yeah.

It hits like a dumptruck of shit. You don't feel stable in your world anymore. How could someone you interacted with, liked, also be a truly horrible person? How could your judgement be that bad? How can real people, not stylized cartoon bogeymen, be actually doing this shit?

You have to sit with the fact that you couldn't, or probably couldn't, have known. You should have no guilt as part of this horror — but guilt is almost certainly part of that mess you're feeling, because our brains do this associative thing, and somehow "I liked [the version of] the guy [that I knew]", or his creations, becomes "I made a horrible mistake and should feel guilty."

You didn't, loves, you didn't.

We're human, and we can only go by the information we have. And the information we have is only the smallest glimpse into someone else's life.

I didn't work closely with the guy I knew at work, but we chatted. He wasn't just nice; he was one of the only people outside my tiny department who seemed genuinely nice in a workplace that was rapidly becoming incredibly toxic. He loaned me a bike trainer. Occasionally he'd see me at the bus stop and give me a lift home.

Yup. I was a young woman in my twenties and rode in this guy's car. More than once.

When I tell this story that part usually makes people gasp. "You must feel so scared about what could have happened to you!" "You're so lucky nothing happened!"

No, that's not how it worked. I was never in danger. This guy targeted Korean women with little-to-no English who were coerced and powerless. A white, fluent, US citizen coworker wasn't a potential victim. I got to be a person, not prey.

Y'know that little warning bell that goes off, when you're around someone who might be a danger to you? That animal sense that says "Something is off here, watch out"?

Yeah, that doesn't ping if the preferred prey isn't around.

That's what rattled me the most about this. I liked to think of myself as willing to stand up for people with less power than me. I worked with Japanese exchange students in college and put myself bodily between them and creeps, and I sure as hell got that little alarm when some asian-schoolgirl fetishist schmoozed on them. But we were all there.

I had to learn that the alarm won't go off when the hunter isn't hunting. That it's not the solid indicator I might've thought it was. That sometimes this is what the privilege of not being prey does; it completely masks your ability to detect the horrors that are going on.

A lot of people point out that 'people like that' have amazing charisma and ability to lie and manipulate, and that's true. Anyone who's gotten away with this shit for decades is going to be way smoother than the pathetic little hangers-on I dealt with in university. But it's not just that. I seriously, deeply believe that he saw me as a person, and he did not extend personhood to his victims. We didn't have a fake coworker relationship. We had a real one. And just like I don't know the ins-and-outs of most of my coworkers lives, I had no idea that what he did on his down time was perpetrate horrors.

I know this is getting off the topic, but it's so very important. Especially as a message to cis guys: please understand that you won't recognize a creep the way you might think you will. If you're not the preferred prey, the hind-brain alarm won't go off. You have to listen to victims, not your gut feeling that the person seems perfectly nice and normal. It doesn't mean there's never a false accusation, but face the fact that it's usually real, and you don't have enough information to say otherwise.

So, yeah. It fucking sucks. Writing about this twists my insides into tense knots, and it was almost a decade ago. I was never in danger. No one I knew was hurt!

Just countless, powerless women, horrifically abused by someone who was nice to me.

You don't trust your own judgement quite the same way, after. And as utterly shitty as it is, as twisted up and unstead-in-the-world as I felt the day I found out — I don't actually think that's a bad thing.

I think we all need to question our own judgement. It makes us better people.

I don't see villains around every corner just because I knew one, once. But I do own the fact that I can't know, really know, about anyone except those closest to me. They have their own full lives. They'll go from the pinnacles of kindness to the depths of depravity — and I won't know.

It's not a failing. It's just being human. Something to remember before you slap labels on people, before you condemn them or idolize them. Think about how much you can't know, and how flawed our judgement always is.

Grieve for victims, and the feeling of betrayal. But maybe let yourself off the hook, and be a bit slower to skewer others on it.

#listen to old auntie Shades #serious #fuck I don't know how to tag this #I should probably read-more this but I'm not sure where #and now I need to go take a walk for my stupid mental health #you never stop processing #you do it over and over and over and over #and hope it gets a bit easier each time #Someone might get upset by using prey #but 'preferred prey' is an important concept from the predator's view #it doesn't mean the people are inherently prey #you feel me?#it's the best word I can find for the concept #neil gaiman #adjacent

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artemisdesari-blog · 7 months ago

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A writer friend told me something that broke my heart a little bit today; they're going to quit publishing their fanfic.

My instant thought was that they had been trolled or attacked or that something terrible had happened in their life because this person is so passionate about their writing. It wasn't any of that. Engagement with their works has been going down, as it has for many of us. Comments are like gold dust a lot of the time, and just looking through the historical comment counts on old fics on ao3 demonstrates this trend very clearly. It was not simply the comments dropping off which caused them to decide to stop posting, however.

My friend came across a discord server for their fandom (I should point out here that their fandom interest and mine diverged a couple of years ago, we stay in touch but don't currently read each other's posts because I'm not into their fandom and they would rather gouge their eyes out with a wooden spoon than read anything Star Wars) and specifically to share fic in that fandom. They joined, because we all love a good fic rec, only to discover that their latest multichapter fic, which has almost no comments and very few kudos, is being hotly discussed in this server as one of the best stories ever. Not one of these people has bothered to say this to them on the fic. When they asked, none of participants could see the point in telling the author of the fic they apparently loved so much that they love it.

This discovery has absolutely destroyed my friend's love of sharing fic. They share because they love seeing other people's enjoyment, and fic writers do that through comments and kudos/reblogs/likes because we don't get paid. There is no literary critic writing a blog post/article about how amazing the story is for us to copy and keep/frame. There is no money from royalties. All we have are the words of the people reading our works.

Those people on that server could have taken five minutes of the time they spent gushing about how amazing my friend's story was to other people and used it to tell the one person guaranteed to want to hear that praise how much they loved it. They could have taken a moment to express their opinion to the person who spent hours upon hours plotting, writing, editing, and posting those chapters. Instead, they deprived my friend of thing that keeps them sharing their writing, and in the process have killed their love of it. My friend now feels used and unmotivated.

I won't be sharing a link to their fic, they said I could share their experience but not their identity. I know they plan to post one final chapter. I know they intend to express their hurt at being excluded from the praise for the thing they created, and I know they intend to announce that as a consequence they will not be posting for a long while, if at all.

So please, I beg you, don't hide your love of a story from the writer. It's just about the only thing we have.

#fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #writing is hard #fanfic writing #writer stuff #archive of our own #ao3 #this isn’t about me #my stuff still has great interaction from readers #although I would never say no to more #but please please please don't hide your enjoyment from us #they feed the gremlins in our heads which give us the stories

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kenmaspuddinghair · 2 months ago

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Honorably discharged partially disabled Simon, who swears he is perfectly fine and capable of doing everything himself. But it doesn’t really matter what he thinks says because Price sees differently. He sees the way Simon’s hands shake and how he’s started fidgeting when he’s never done that in the past, he can see Simon’s right side, the side that was crushed under rubble during an attack, he sees it shake and almost falter every time Simon puts even a little bit to much weight on it, but what worry’s Price the most is when Simon zones out and stops paying attention to his surroundings or whatever he’s doing. Not to mention now Simon has to go back and live in civilization, when all he’s known is military life since he was still a teen.

So although Simon claims he’s fine, Price gets him live-in-help, you. You’ve been with him the past week and although he rarely talks you’ve learned a few things. The blinds always need to be fully open unless he’s sleeping, he needs to be able to see what’s happening but it’ll keep him up when he’s trying to sleep, so they close at night. He gets very tense when he can’t see your hands, it hurts you a little to know he doesn’t trust you but you understand. He can't cook at all, unless you prepare food for him he’ll only eat a prepackaged dinner nothing else, of course that isn't healthy so you've started fixing him both breakfast and lunch which he accepts with a grunt but he doesn’t eat till you’ve started. He never takes off his mask around you unless he's eating and even still only up to his nose. Lastly you've noticed something always sparked in his eyes when you called him Simon, you haven't been able to figure out what it is so instead of risking offending him or something, you've stuck to calling him Ghost.

Price chose you for two reasons, you were quite, something he thought Simon would like, he was very wrong. It’s probably the oddest thing about him, he doesn’t like when you're super quiet you've learned it cause he doesn’t know where you are or what you’re planning the other reason is Price hired you is because you were a military nurse for quite a bit so you would always be there for Simon. This was something Simon actually did like it meant he didn’t have to leave his flat just to see a doctor, what he didn’t think about though was the cut and bruise on his face that he would have to remove his balaclava for.

“Okay Ghost” you paused not sure how he would react to having to take his mask off “I-i need you to remove your mask for me please” almost immediately he grunted out a why “because you have a cut and bruise on your face and I need to make sure it’s healing properly” Simon stilled completely for a few seconds before he slowly pulled the balaclava completely off. You took a second looking over his entire face before you brought your hand up inspecting the area “your bruise is completely gone” you whispered slightly surprised it had only been a week, you went to write it down but the moment your hand left his face he spoke up “it’s still ere, jus can’t see it” carefully your brought you hand back to his face to carefully push on his check “does that hurt” “bit” was all he grunted out, you hummed to yourself as you removed your hand and started writing, but had you been looking at him you would have seen the almost pout gracing his face.

Once you finally looked back up, placing your hand on his face ��okay let’s finish this quickly” you say looking over his scar “I know I’m not that pretty but you ain’t gotta rush” he said in the quietest voice. You looked up into his eyes quickly only to find them looking back at you with what you could only describe as curiosity mixed with need “Gh-Simon that’s not what I meant, your very beautiful I just thought you wouldn't want me touching or looking at your face any more since you always hide it behind that mask” he never replied to you, just kept staring with that look in his eyes. Finally you peeled your eyes away, finished writing whatever you needed to in your book then you got up and walked away “I’m gonna fix us some lunch, okay Simon?” you called from in the kitchen already, and that’s when Simon managed to place the feeling he had been having every time he saw you. He liked you, he had a crush, a crush! “Simon?” You called again “yeah okay” he called back, he wasn’t gonna fuck this up, not when he thinks he might have found a new purpose in life.

pt 2 here

#simon x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #medic!reader

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salemwasnteverhere · 9 months ago

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How the Hashira men react to your neighbor asking you to be quiet

Characters: Tengen, Sanemi, Rengoku, Obanai, Gyomei, Giyuu,

Additional shit: Swearing, Sanemi fighting said neighbor, Rengoku being blunt, mentions of sex, ooc mot likely :p

Tengen

He couldn't care less

His whole thing is being flashy and loud so he wants you to be loud

Like it's not his fault that dick is magical

After he shoos your neighbor away he makes sure to be as loud as possible that night

He's pounding into your cunt and you swear your gonna break when he whispers "okay now scream exactly how big my dick is. Don't forget the tip color-"

He gets cut off by you hitting him with the pillow

Way to ruin the mood

But that doesn't stop him and instead he goes harder, making sure the bed creaks loud ASF for your neighbor

"Not my fault he doesn't know how to please a woman." Is his main reason for doing so

He really wants you to scream his name so it's imbedded in your neighbors head

"Morning N/N!" Him to your neighbor from the balcony while your trying to get out of bed and failing

"Actually die." Both you and your neighbor to Tengen

Sanemi

Cares alot

Why the fuck is that limp dick biscuit talking to you and him? Who does he think he is?

You were the one who broke the news to him thankfully cause if Sanemi was the one who opened the door then you'd have to see your husband through glass in a prison

Just kidding. The Slayer corp would get him out of trouble if he didn't do it himself.

Anyways

Sanemi made it his goal to piss your neighbor off as much as possible

Your under him, practically creaming on his cock, and he's slamming the wall yelling "This loud enough yet?! Huh!?"

Not kidding I can see him doing that

He quite literally had you against a window where your neighbors could see him destroying you just to make them mad or uncomfortable, hopefully both.

But then he'd get pissed someone else would see you all naked and fucked out so he settled for the wall next to the window

One day your neighbor, finally having enough, bangs on your door yelling and guess who opens it...Sanemi!!

Good Lord was he waiting for this

It took one punch and the guy was out

Kinda what happens when you put a normal dude against a guy who kills demons for a living

Rengoku

He's a good neutral between caring and not caring

Like he doesn't wanna make your neighbors mad but he also loves hearing your screams

So he tries to keep you quiet during sex but fails since he gets to into it to give a fuck

The next days his loud ass voice wakes you up

"IM SORRY FOR MAKING INCREDIBLE LOVE TO MY WIFE!" He's not being sarcastic thats his genuine apology

Your facepalming and you want to die when you see your neighbor and she can't look at you

"PERHAPS SHES MAD BECAUSE HER HUSBAND CANNOT PLEASE HER!" Rengoku says casually and you know she can hear you from outside in her garden

"Inside voices!" You place your hands over his mouth to try and shut him up.

It works for a bit before he's yelling again

You love your husband but holy shit you wish he would speak normally sometimes

He's actually quiet in bed though

So your the problem (real)

Obanai

I'm not an Obanai fan so forgive me for how bad his section will be

Obanai is a quiet mf, and you're not even that loud

It's your neighbor who was the problem

A little old man whose hearing aids apparently had the power of 67 suns

You and Obanai found this out when he was outside training and your neighbor came over

He was so sweet and polite and even chuckled at Obanai's redness

Obanai cared at first but got over it

You? You make sure to not make a PEEP in bed

Okay that pisses Obanai off but he understands your reasons

At least make a gasp or sum cause he's over here like "Wait does this feel good? Can she feel it? Did I forget where the clit is?"

Brother is STRESSING

Then you cum and he's like "ah"

Then he's like "Did you take it?"

You have to keep yourself from murdering him cause how tf would you fake squirting

Gyomei

Babe I'm not gonna lie, you're a screamer

Gyomei is built like a house and your telling me your just gonna whine and whimper?

Your over here crying and screaming into his chest, neck, the pillow, anything.

And Gyomei loves it!

He can't see your reactions so hearing and feeling them let's him know he's doing good

Gyomei isn't loud but he's not quiet

He'll grunt and moan and praise you, but he's not gonna cry out.

Well he'll cry but you can never tell from what

When the pussy so good you start crying 😭🙏

When your neighbor politely asked you to be a tad bit quieter Gyomei actually laughed

Not in a 'nah we'll keep being loud' way but more of a 'sorry we'll be quiet' way. He also found it hilarious how you actually died of embarrassment.

Don't worry he thinks its endearing

Yet it was kinda hard for him since he enjoyed hearing you

But your touches and now quieter moans made that better

And then there's also you literally drawing blood from his back you were scratching so hard

Giyuu

Holy shit you have never seen him so embarrassed

Like you could shade match his Haori to him and get the exact same color

He was the one your neighbor told and he stopped working when 'loud' and 'moaning' left their lips

If a demon doesn't kill him then his own actions will

Giyuu isn't loud, and he loves that he can make you feel so good that your loud for him.

But he didn't want your neighbor back over at your house so he tried to keep you quiet

You were super confused when he held his hand over your mouth in bed and he just pointed to your neighbors house. Then you got it.

So you nod and try to keep quiet.

You know in school when the teacher tells you and a friend to shut up but they look at you funny and you break?

Yeah that was you

You were riding Giyuu one night and you were loud so he was like "holy shit I love you but please- I can't look our neighbor in the eyes anymore."

And you couldn't help but laugh

Like howling

You calmed down obviously but sex was very giggle filled after that

You've never seen Giyuu so panicked

But give him a week and he'll stop caring

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primofate · 1 year ago

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Drop the towel wrapped around you and appear naked in front of your Genshin husband

In a nutshell: That old tiktok challenge/prank. In your private, shared home of course.

Warnings: My perpetual warning as a writing mother is that I am sleep deprived. Very VERY sleep deprived. SUGGESTIVE: BORDERING ON NOT SAFE FOR WORK, written on a 10 minute timer please be gentle

Characters: Aether, Albedo, Alhaitham, Ayato, Baizhu, Cyno, Diluc, Itto, Kaeya, Kaveh, Kazuha, Neuvillette, Scaramouche, Tartaglia, Tighnari, Wriothesley, Xiao, Zhongli, implied fem!reader

Personal Favourites: Tighnari

Aether

chokes on nothing

"Y-Y-Y/N?! What're you doing?"

Comes up to you and tries to cover you up with the towel again, as if it was a sin to look at you naked in broad daylight.

Full on blush on his face and respectfully tries to look away.

"Don't surprise me like that!"

Seems not to like it but actually likes it too much to the point of getting embarrassed for himself.

Yes he's your husband but is still a precious respectful man

Albedo

Blinks a couple of times but appreciates your beauty and gives your body a slow once over. Chuckles in amusement afterwards.

"Is there a reason for this?"

Just to get his reaction, you admit.

"Well..." starts walking towards you. "I do have higher self-control than most others... but let it be known that I'm far from immune to my..."

Stops in front of you and yet again seems to eat you up with his eyes. "...needs," ends with a suspiciously sweet smile.

Alhaitham

Can't help but be a bit surprised and you can see it by the way his eyebrows go up as soon as the towel hits the floor.

Opens his mouth to say something but closes it again, as if hesitating, which is really strange for someone like him.

"...Is this the part where I sweep you off your feet and carry you to our room?" there's a bit of amusement in his tone. Stands to walk over to you.

Places a hand on your waist.

"Cause I can guarantee you that we DON'T need to be in our bedroom for things to happen...but you knew that already, right?"

Ayato

Quirks his eyebrows up, amused smile appearing on his face.

"I must say, this is a lovely surprise,"

Traces your figure with his eyes. Then approaches you to hold your waist and dip in to kiss your neck softly.

"How could I ever resist, my love, when you're standing in front of me in all your magnificence?"

Takes the longest time just admiring and basking in your beauty, tracing every little part of your skin.

Baizhu

Lets pretend the snake ain't here okay?

Does a double take.

"Y/N, first off, you'll get a cold,"

Pushes his spectacles up and gives you a once over.

"Second, you'll give me a heart attack,"

Beckons you over gently with his hand. "Come over, I suppose it's been a while since...I've done a full body check,"

Hides a grin.

Cyno

Blankly looks at you and is still processing what is happening

"Y/N? Is this... Did I do something?"

Is so suspicious that this was some kind of trap.

You tell him its simply to get a reaction out of him.

Immediately shoots out of his seat and catches your wrist.

"Then...Is it my turn to get one out of you? There's several ways to do that...and I know your favourite ones,"

Diluc

Eyes follow the towel down to the floor and head snaps back up to blink at the sight in front of him. Recovers quickly.

Chuckles as he stands and walks over. Picks up the towel and drapes it around your shoulders. "Only because it's quite chilly tonight,"

but still ends up inching the towel off your shoulder, tracing your collarbone. "Although, as your husband, I suppose it IS my job to keep you warm... So how would you like it today, love?"

Itto

"WHOA!" by instinct covers his eyes with his hands but his fingers are actually splayed apart so he can totally see through the gaps

Feels himself getting aroused

I mean the guy gets turned on even just at the sight of your neck

Suddenly stands and walks over to you, easily hoists you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and makes a beeline to your shared room.

"You're asking for it Y/N!"

Kaeya

"Oho?"

Sits back and relaxes, he doesn't really know what he was expecting. Some type of show maybe. "What's this? Finally giving me that lap dance you owe me, snowflake?"

Laughs but you're incredibly flustered at the suggestion.

Beckons you over and grabs you by the waist to sit on his lap.

"Feel that?" he whispers in your ear.

Oh you feel it alright, pressing at your upper thigh.

"Now whose fault is that? You'll have to do something about it now, love,"

Kaveh

"Archons!"

Looks away with a blush on his cheeks.

"Put something on!"

Yes he's seen you naked before, you're married, but the guy's always flustered in unexpected events.

You provoke him further by coming over, sitting sideways on his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Y/N!" He looks down at you and can't help but look at your nakedness in full and close view.

Gulps but starts to feel his body heat up, his hands suddenly, assertively planting themselves on your waist as he meets your eyes. "I don't care what you say about yourself, but know that you're the only one who takes me from 0 to a 100 in a second,"

Kazuha

"Y/N?" Chuckles nervously and takes in the sight of your body.

Smiles at you and takes your hand to kiss the back of it.

"I've seen you countless of times... Each time, I'm reminded by how fortunate I am that you chose me to take care of you,"

Caresses your cheek all the way down to your jawline. "You're beautiful, Y/N,"

He has the most tender and gentle look on his face, but its mixed with a passion that you've never seen on anyone before. "Let me show you how much I love you, dear,"

Neuvillette

Eyebrows twitches upwards in surprise. Has no clue what to do in this new situation.

He doesn't say anything but is most definitely enjoying the view of your body. You see his jaw tense up, as if he's clenching his teeth.

"Ahem," he starts. Then seems to have the most trouble prying his eyes away to meet your gaze. "Is this...perhaps another way to tell me... that you would like some attention?"

You say not really and just wanted to see how he would react.

"Ah," he lets out, as if understanding and as if the conversation has ended.

A moment of silence passes and you're starting to wonder if that was all he was going to do. But he then stands and places a gentle hand on your bare waist. "...So you're simply doing it, as people would say, 'for fun'?"

He asks, and you say yes innocently. He smiles a bit and has another hand cupping your face and thumbing your lips. "I see," breathes out slowly.

"Unfortunately, for your actions, the Iudex feels that a punishment is in order,"

Scaramouche

Raises one eyebrow as if he's bored. Then smirks.

"If you wanted it, all you had to do was ask," pulls you by the waist and makes you straddle him "But this is good too,"

Hands actually start to grope you up and down. Will fondle and squeeze in private places immediately.

"What? Startin' to feel good? S'what you get when you play games with me,"

will smack your butt the first chance he gets

Tartaglia

Immediately jumps up and in an automatic daze, eyes glued to his favourite parts, trudges towards you and attempts to bury himself in softness.

You quickly stop him and in turn HE quickly stops you. Hands easily bunching your wrists up together and angling them upwards above your head.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," he grins down at you. "Someone's being naughty,"

You complain that he reacts too fast.

Laughs, but his hand starts to unbuckle his pants and there's a dark look in his eyes. "Oh, I'm just being naughty back. When you want something, Y/N, believe it when I say I'll GIVE it to you,"

Tighnari

ear twitches. Tail swishes back and forth. Does not show any expression except slight curiosity.

"What's the occasion?"

You tell him that you just wanted to see his reaction.

He hums and nods slowly, like processing some type of complicated information.

"Wait here, I'll be back in a minute,"

You ask him where he's going and you're a bit upset at the lack of response from him.

He chuckles and returns to you, tail angling upwards in an attempt to wrap and brush against your waist. Takes your hand, presses your wrist against his lips and seems to take a slow breath in.

"I'm merely clearing off my schedule for today. Now, be patient, I'll be back,"

Wriothesley

Almost spits out his drink but gulps it all down instead.

Eyes widen a fraction at the sudden act but his hand is already loosening his tie.

"Wait right there precious," chuckles while he says this, tie already falling to the ground, now unbuttoning his vest. At the same time walks over to you urgently as if you're going to disappear but laughs nervously while he's at it.

"I swear you'll be the death of me,"

Looks like he's going to pounce on you but when he reaches you he only gives you a chaste kiss, as if asking for permission first.

You suddenly remind him that he has a LOT of things to do today, appointments and all.

Actually barks out a quick laugh. "You're not really expecting me to walk out now? As far as I'm concerned," pulls you flush against him and kisses your jaw "The only thing I need to do today is you,"

Xiao

"Wh-Wh-What do you think you're doing?!"

caught unprepared. Crosses his arms and looks away. Pretends he's uninterested but his eyes still dart back to look at you.

You ask him if he likes what he sees.

He now completely looks away from you. A few seconds pass and when he turns his head back to look at you there's now a carnal look in his eyes.

He walks towards you slowly and captures your chin to tilt it up. Looks down at you as if he hasn't eaten a meal in days.

"...When I'm done with you tonight you'll get your answer,"

Zhongli

Chuckles. Amused.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, dear?"

You shrug and even do a turn for him. He watches you carefully and takes in the image in front of him.

Smiles and strides over towards you. "Truly a magnificent sight," brushes his fingers against your neck

His eyes trail downwards and isn't shy about looking at your body. "Might I remind you my dear, my stamina surpasses that of a normal human," he smiles at you sincerely.

You tell him that you're well aware. He just chuckles again.

"Then you know well what'll come next,"

End

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Here's the masterlist:

Masterlist

#genshin fluff #zhongli x reader #genshin impact #headcanons #ayato x reader #scaramouche x reader #neuvillette x reader #wriothesley x reader #cyno x reader #diluc x reader #childe x reader #tighnari x reader #alhaitham x reader #kaeya x reader #kaveh x reader

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producedbysohyun · 4 months ago

Text

A Not So Secret Secret

Kang Dae-ho x pregnant! Reader

Summary: You and Dae-ho join the game to settle your debts, unaware at first that the other is also playing. However, there’s something Dae-ho is also unaware about.

Warnings: Reader is replacing number 222 but has no correlation with 333, Reader is pregnant, mentions of killing and stuff like that. might be slightly inaccurate I’ve only watched the show once. Not proofread.

wc: 3.2k

a/n: I’ve had this idea for awhile but wasn’t sure if anyone would read it so I’m just gonna put it out there!

Pt.2 masterlist

You had just finished the first round in the squid games ,red light green light, and you were terrified as you sat in your bed. Why were people being shot? How are you gonna get out? What is happening? A thousand thoughts raced through your mind at once until you felt a hand on your shoulder.

You turn around and your met with the face of a worried old woman. It was Geum-Ja, the sweet woman you met during the first game.

“Are you ok?” She asked.

You nod, not exactly in the mood for talking.

Her eyes flickered down to your stomach before looking at you again. She smiled “if you need anything please let me know..”

You nod again, trying to hint at her you wanna be alone before you hear a man yelling, saying something about a vote.

The guards reply a bit after saying that there would be a vote after each game, and a vote soon commences.

“389…please cast your vote….. 388.. please cast your vote” The voice of the guard said.

You were so deep in thought that you didn’t even notice who was currently walking down the aisle to place there vote until the buzzer went off.

“Another person voted to stay…” you thought in your mind… Wait what??

You couldn’t see that well from where you were standing but you caught a glimpse of his face.

It was Dae-ho.

“No… there’s no way… why would he vote to stay.. it can’t be h-“ Your thoughts were soon cut off by the guards voice again.

“222.. please cast your vote”

Jeez how long were you thinking for… whatever it doesn’t matter… you walk down the aisle shyly, feeling everyone’s eyes on you as you press the red button with the X on it. You don’t dare to look behind you, knowing who’s face you’d immediately see.

The votes for O only kept going up and by the end of the vote, O had won.

You feel the anxiety really getting to you and retreat to your bed, trying to run away from your worries. When you get there you feel a hand grab your wrist.

“Y/n…” Dae-ho says, a slight bit of panic in his voice.

You don’t want to turn around but you force yourself to, looking up at him.

“What are you doing here???” He asks in a not so soft tone .

“I could ask you the same thing…” you reply with an attitude, still upset about him voting O.

“I came to settle our debt-“ He tries to explain.

You cut him off. “And you didn’t think of telling me??”

He sighs trying to reason with you. “Listen.. y/n… they said not to tell anyone… I couldn’t risk losing the opportunity at the time… And you can’t get upset at me when you’re literally here as well…”

You rub your face in frustration. “I’m not upset at you for being here I’m upset you didn’t tell me and even more upset you chose to stay!”

“I didn’t know you were here.. if I had known that I would’ve voted X in a heart beat… We need the money baby….” He reply’s, his tone softening.

“This money is not worth dying for…” you say as you start to walk away.

“Y/n stop….” He grabs your arm softly.

“What….” You reply.

“We aren’t done talking…” he says, pulling you back towards him.

You sigh. “What else is there to talk about”

“Why are you here..” He asks. He thinks he knows the answer but he just wants to hear it from you.

“For the same reason you are…” You half lie. Yes you are here to try and settle your debt but also to get a little extra money for the baby.

He sighs, not knowing what to say.

You just turn around and start walking away before he grabs you once again but this time pulling you into his arms.

You’re surprised but you hug him back, not realizing how much you needed it.

While hugging you, Dae-ho couldn’t help but realize that it felt different, the way your body’s pressed together wasn’t quite as comfortable as your stomach was blocking him from getting to close.

He pulled away looking down at you.

“Y/n..?”

You looked away, realizing he probably noticed.

Five months before you joined the squid game you found out you were pregnant. You hid it from Dae-ho, wearing sweaters when your bump started to get a little noticeable and just saying you were cold despite it being summer, he didn’t think much of it. It was quite easy to hide because he was rarely home as he was looking for jobs.

You didn’t want to hide this from him. But you did, in fear that something would happen with your relationship as you wanted to keep the baby. You didn’t have a plan, you didn’t know when you were gonna tell him, all you knew was that you were gonna hide it for as long as possible.

Dae-ho’s hand on your arm snapped you back into reality. You look up at his worried face and just start crying, the hormones getting to you.

“Hey…. What’s going on…” He asks softly.

“I- I’m sorry-“ You stutter.

“Talk to me baby…” He puts a hand on your waist.

You back up, not wanting to be reminded that he knows now.

He keeps his distance but it kills him to see you like this.

“I’m- I’m pregnant-…” you say softly as you continue crying.

“W-“ He struggles to find his words “For how long??-…”

“Five months….” You admit.

“Why didn’t you tell me baby??” He says, still in shock.

“I’m sorry…” you continue crying into your hands.

He walks over to you and hugs you tightly.

You cry into his chest. “I thought- you would be mad..”

“Mad? Why would I be mad at you….” He asks softly.

“I don’t know….” You say, starting to calm down a little.

He continues to hold you and comfort you, silently cursing at himself for voting O, now realizing how much harder this is gonna be.

Later that evening you and Dae-ho join a group of three other boys, Gi-hun, Young-il, and Jung-bae.

You sit with the boys, your arms resting around your stomach out of habit and Jung-bae can’t help but notice.

“I’m gonna go take a quick nap..” You say to the group, your exhaustion getting the best of you.

You distinctively hear Gi-hun say something about dinner soon but just brush it off, too tired to even listen.

“I’ll be fine..” you say as you walk to your nearby bed and collapse on it.

Once Jung-bae notices you’re gone he looks at Dae-ho. “Is she um.. yk..” He asks nosily.

Dae-ho just sighs and nods and the group looks a little shocked, Feeling a newfound protectiveness for you, their new group mate.

After the group gets over the initial shock of the situation they start making a plan on what to do for the next games and how they are gonna survive as a group.

The sound of a voice saying to line up for dinner interrupts their conversation and Dae-ho goes to wake you up. You groan, not wanting to get up and slowly get out of bed before following him into the line. (He lets you go first cause he’s a gentleman 😘)

You guys get your food and go back to the spot where you were previously sitting. Right when you sat down a wave of nausea hit you and you just didn’t want to eat at all.

Dae-ho notices this. “Hey are you ok?”

You whimper slightly. “I can’t eat…”

The group looks at you concerned and Dae-ho speaks up again. “Why what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know I just feel sick…” You reply, leaning on him.

He rubs your arm softly before young-il speaks up. “You should really try to eat… the next meal won’t be till tomorrow morning… that’s probably not safe considering-“

Dae-ho cuts him off, not wanting to have you be reminded of it and get more stressed right now. “He’s right… try to eat just a little hm?”

You pout at him. “fine..”

You take small bites of your food, it’s not terrible but it’s definitely not making your nausea any better. Nonetheless you push through, knowing that you need to eat for the baby.

Dae-ho looks at you happily, glad you decided to eat.

You try to eat as much as you can before you just set the food down and lean on Dae-ho again, his presence comforting you through your sickness.

You end up falling asleep on him as the group just talks and continues their plan.

Once again, the voice on the speaker starts talking saying it’s time for bed or something. You don’t really know as you’re half asleep.

You feel Dae-ho softly guiding you off of where you were sitting and the next thing you know you’re in your bed, Dae-ho softly putting the covers over you before kissing your forehead.

“Goodnight N/N, I love you..” He says softly.

You smile sleepily at the nickname and reply. “Goodnight Dae.. I love you too..”

The rest is a blur until you finally fall asleep.

The next morning starts the same as the first. Everyone lines up to get breakfast.

You get your food, actually hungry this time and open the tin container, immediately eating everything while sitting in your bed. Dae-ho is with the group but if you’re being honest you’re not in the mood to socialize this morning so he decided to give you some space. That is until the old woman, Geum-ja, came up to you again.

“How are you feeling?” She asked sweetly.

“Better…” You reply shortly.

She holds her tin of food in her hands as she looks down at your empty one before handing you hers.

“Oh- no no it’s fine really-“ you try to reason with her, not wanting to take food from her.

“Oh don’t be silly it’s ok… You need to eat more..” she smiles as she hands you her food.

You bow, very thankful because you’re really hungry. “Thank you- you really didn’t have too..”

“Don’t mention it” she gives you a smile before her son comes over telling her to not scare him like that.

You sit there awkwardly as they talk before the old woman waves goodbye to you and smiles. You wave back at her before eating the food she gave you.

Shortly after eating the speaker says that it’s time for the first game and to follow the guards. You remember what Gi-hun told your group last night, pick the triangle. Knowing what to do for this next game, you feel pretty confident but are still nervous.

You rejoin with your group as you guys walk towards the doors into the colorful room with stairs.

You all walk in silence before Dae-ho speaks up. “You feeling better?”

You nod and reply. “Ya… I was actually able to eat so I feel alot better”

Dae-ho smiles and keeps walking up the stairs.

Everyone gets to the door and when it opens, confusion fills the room.

“This is the dalgona game.. right?” you ask Gi-hun, really confused.

He sighs and looks at you. “I don’t know what this is..”

The familiar feeling of anxiety crept back up your body but you tried to keep it at shore as everyone walked into the room.

Everyone stayed by their group as the rules for the game came over the speaker. “This game is the six-legged pentathlon. A group of five will be connected by their ankles in the order of who is gonna play the first mini game to who is gonna play the last. The Mini games consist of the following: Dakji, flying stone, gonggi, spinning tops, and Jegi. The group will complete the five mini games within the time limit and cross the finish line or they will be eliminated.”

After the announcement everyone immediately started scrambling, trying to find groups but the five of you just stayed with each other, discussing who was gonna do what.

Since your the only girl in the group everyone excepted you to know how to play gonggi but you surprisingly didn’t. Luckily for you guys Dae-ho would play it with his sisters and he get really good at it. So that was settled. Now everyone else just had to figure out what they were gonna do.

“I can do Dakji…” you said softly, not really knowing what else to do.

Everyone agreed on it and the rest of the line up was decided. You do Dakji, Jung-bae does flying stone, Dae-ho does gonggi, Young-il does spinning tops, and Gi-hun does Jegi.

Your groups discussion was soon interrupted by the first two groups going up, who soon later both lost.

As the games went on the waiting players became more immersed in watching the other players play and started cheering them on, acting as an audience.

A group finally won and everyone started cheering and jumping but you felt a hand on your shoulder. “Don’t jump don’t jump” Dae-ho said softly, not wanting you to use your energy or stress your body out.

You listened to him but kept cheering along with everyone else. For a second, you forgot this was a game where you could die and you’re not here to have fun. That was until gun shots from the other side of the room interrupted everyone’s cheering and brought them back to the harsh reality.

After many games it was your teams turn. You were the second to last team to play therefore you had no audience which your group was sad about. You on the other hand had no room to be sad as you were internally freaking out.

Your group lined up and your ankles got chained together. Then. The game started.

Your group walks in sync to the first mini game, Dakji.

You grab square piece of paper and throw it as hard as possible at the one on the floor, and to your surprise, it flips over. The group cheered as the walked to the next mini game. Jung-bae grabbed the stone and threw it at the other one, hitting it perfectly. The group cheered again and continued walking to the next one. They all sat on the floor in-front of a small table as Dae-ho skillfully handled the gonggi. Everyone watches in amazement as they pass right away.

They get up and walk to the next mini game, spinning tops. Everything was going good until Young-il messed up. Over and over and over. At this point it just seemed like he was doing it on purpose cause how can you possibly throw it behind you?? (Bro was totally doing it on purpose 😭)

After some focusing and stressing he finally got it. But you guys had no time to spare. Everyone quickly made their way over to the next mini game. Gi-hun quickly kicked the Jegi four times before kicking it way in-front of him.

Your heart stopped. “This is it” you thought to yourself before you were yanked forward towards the finish line. Young-il had helped Gi-hun kick it last second.

You guys passed the finish line, all relieved until you saw the other team in-front of you get shot. Despite winning, this made your heart heavy, remembering the situation you’re still in.

After getting your ankles unchained all of you walked back into the room, getting stares from everyone and heating groans from people that wished more people would die.

You stayed silent the rest of the evening until the vote. Your group had collectively decided to vote for X this time. You were sure you were gonna make it out. Until you weren’t.

By the end of the vote, O won again. And even worse, Jung-bae voted for O. Your own team member!

After realizing you were gonna be stuck in this hell hole for another game you definitely didn’t feel like eating, you got up and went into the bathroom, getting sick thinking about what you saw today and just because of your pregnancy in general.

*knock knock* “are you ok y/n?” The old woman says from outside the stall door.

“Ya-“ you wipe your mouth off with toilet paper before flushing the toilet and coming out.

“Remember if you need anything don’t be afraid to ask me…” She says reassuringly.

“Thank you..” you give her a soft smile before going to wash your hands.

When you come out of the bathroom you go back over to your group and see Jung-bae sitting with them again. Dae-ho must’ve brought him back.

You sigh and sit with them.

Dae-ho looks at you concerned. “Are you ok did you eat”

“I can’t Dae…” you reply tiredly and lean on him once again.

“Cmon baby just a little…” he nudges you.

You force yourself to remember that you can’t be skipping meals now due to your baby, Before sighing. “Ok…”

You eat some of the food, the nausea surprisingly going away.

“Drink some water too..” Dae-ho reminds you.

You nod and drink your water, immediately feeling alot better, still leaning on him.

Your eyes become heavy and you distinctively hear the group talking about something to do with a fight but you don’t pay much attention and fall asleep on Dae-ho’s shoulder.

*time skip to night*

You wake up on a mattress on the floor, super confused, and look to your right and see Dae-ho sleeping under a bed on the mattress? 😭

You look to your left and see young-il and Jung-bae also under the beds on a mattress.

Confused, you sit up and see Gi-hun awake, just sitting there. You get up and walk over to him.

“I need to use the bathroom” you say quietly to him.

Gi-hun looks at you. “It’s too dangerous to go alone-“

“I’ll go with her” the old woman says from the bed above you.

You and the old woman go over to the bathroom, only to be refused entry by the guards. So the old woman being the baddie she is puts on a pretty convincing sob story before the guards finally let you guys in, another girl showing up behind you guys and asking if she should come too.

“Don’t worry she’s a woman” the old woman says and the other girl follows you guys into the bathroom.

You quickly go into a stall and just cry. You’re so scared and you just wanna go home. You wanna lay in your bed again. You don’t even care if you’re in debt you just wanna go home.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the old woman opening the door.

“Are you ok? Is your baby coming? Is it your stomach?” The old woman questions you worriedly.

“I’m so scared” you say crying more before she hugs you tightly.

“It’s ok..” she comforts you.

That’s the last thing that things feel like right now. “Ok”.

You calm down after a bit and she leads you back over to your bed.

You step in between Gi-hun and Jung-bae, who is now up, to get to your bed.

You notice the Dae-ho is literally half way on your bed so you just decide to use his arm as a pillow. He gets a little startled but immediately falls asleep after. You hold onto his arm in your sleep, him being the only way to comfort you in this hell. After a bit of thinking you slowly drift off to sleep, feeling a little better that you’re not alone in this.

a/n: thank you for reading this took absolutely forever! I want to make a part two so let me know if you guys would be interested!!

#daeho x reader #dae ho x reader #kang daeho #daeho #squid game x reader #x reader #squid game #kang daeho x reader #kang dae ho #kang dae ho x reader #dae-ho x reader #dae ho

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lyvhie · 17 days ago

Text

★ ˙ ̟ ─── . “get you there”.

To be honest, you had no idea how long you'd been there, lost in it.

It started off silly. Just a casual comment about your now very inactive sex life, shared with your friend, Haechan.

A small get-together had happened at your place earlier that night, but somehow, Haechan ended up staying way longer than planned. The conversation had drifted into the late hours, soft voices under dim lights, both of you relaxed in that quiet, familiar way that only years of friendship could create.

You talked about past relationships, about the weird things people did in bed, the good, the bad, the awkward. The air between you was even more comfortable than usual. Maybe that’s why things slipped out so easily. Things you never thought you’d admit. Things like the fact that you’ve never actually had an orgasm.

That—that caught his attention.

He looked at you a little differently after that, a spark lighting in his eyes as he leaned in just a bit and said, “I can make you get there, if you let me.”

Stupid man with stupid words. And you were just as stupid, because you really said yes.

Which brings you to the present—legs spread wide, back arching, and Haechan’s mouth glued to your cunt, his tongue working your soaked hole with shameless dedication.

How long had you been like this? You weren’t sure anymore.

Your legs were starting to ache from the position, trembling from the strain and the overstimulation. You’d long lost count of how many times he’d made you cum, even though he’d told you to keep track.

Your fingers were buried in his messy hair, tugging hard, not sure if you wanted to pull him closer or push him away. But he wasn’t giving you a choice, his tongue was relentless, thrusting into you with obscene precision, his mouth noisy, wet, ravenous.

His arms were hooked beneath your thighs, hands gripping them tightly as he anchored you in place, pulling you down even harder against his mouth.

He was devouring you, absolutely shameless, his nose brushing against your sensitive little bundle of nerves with every eager thrust of his tongue.

The room was filled with the slick, lewd sounds of wet sucking, your broken moans spilling freely, mixing with the soft, desperate hums coming from his throat, he was enjoying this. And you could feel it.

Not just in the way he moaned into you, but in the subtle grind of his hips against the mattress beneath him, chasing relief he was clearly denying himself in favor of feasting on you.

That familiar pressure began to build in your core once again, your body wound so tight it barely took anything now. And before you could even brace for it, you were cumming. Again.

Haechan groaned into you, loud and guttural, as his tongue welcomed your release like he’d been starving for it. He drank every last drop, licking you clean with long, purposeful strokes, your soft mewls only making his smile grow against your soaked, trembling cunt.

Honestly, you could’ve come again just from the sight of it.

He slowly hovered over you, capturing your lips in a messy, fevered kiss, his tongue coated with the taste of you, of both of you. It made your head spin.

You were so dazed, so far gone, that you didn’t even register the sound of his pants being pushed down, or the way he settled smoothly between your legs, hands caressing your thighs like they were something sacred.

Not until you felt him.

His cock, heavy and flushed, dragging through your folds, the tip brushing against your clit with maddening precision.

You gasped, overwhelmed, your hands flying to his arms as if to keep yourself ground, or stop him.

“Hyuck,” you whimpered, breathless and spent. “Gimme a break… please.”

He dragged his tongue slowly along your neck, warm and wet, just as his cock slid up and down your slick folds teasingly. The tip circled your entrance, barely pushing in, just enough to make your walls flutter around nothing.

“A break?” he murmured against your skin, lips curving into a smirk as he nibbled at your pulse. “After everything I gave you?” He pulled back just enough to look you in the eye, his cock still resting right at your entrance, heat pulsing between you. “You’re so selfish, you know that?”

His hips rolled forward just enough for the head of his cock to catch on your entrance again, making you twitch. He didn’t push in, of course he didn’t. He just stayed there, smirking.

“All those pretty sounds you made,” he whispered, trailing his hand up your thigh, spreading you wider. “All those orgasms I handed to you…”

He nipped at your jaw, gentle but firm.

“And now you want to rest?” He chuckled, the sound vibrating through your skin. “After laying there, whining, taking everything like a needy little pillow princess?”

His fingers found your clit again, drawing slow, torturous circles, just light enough to make your whole body jolt, overstimulated and aching.

“You should say thank you, pretty,” he murmured, brushing his lips over yours. “And let me take care of you, hm?”

You whimpered, eyes fluttering shut as your hips gave a weak jerk toward his fingers, your body betraying any protest your lips might’ve formed. You were exhausted, wrecked, even, but the way he touched you, spoke to you, looked at you… there was no way you could say no.

Your fingers curled tightly around his biceps, bracing yourself. “T… Thank you,” you whispered, the words barely audible, thick with embarrassment.

He chuckled, a low, condescending sound that sent a fresh wave of heat through you. “I didn’t know you were obedient like that,” he teased, voice dripping with mockery.

And before you could even fire back, before you could think, he drove into you with a sharp, hard thrust. Your breath caught in your throat, a startled gasp slipping out as your body clenched around him instantly, your walls molding to every inch, the sudden stretch stealing whatever witty comeback you had.

His moan was downright pornographic and it had you clenching around him nonstop. The way he throbbed inside you, thick and heavy, made it obvious he was in heaven, or at least somewhere damn close.

He started to move, slow at first, rolling his hips in a steady rhythm that let you feel every single inch of him. And fuck, he was savoring it. Savoring the way your slick, gummy walls pulled him in greedily, clenching and fluttering like your body didn’t want to let him go.

But his slow, gentle thrusts didn’t last long, his hands clamped down on your hips, fingers digging in with an almost bruising grip as he picked up the pace. His thrusts turned rough, relentless, his hips slamming into yours with enough force to rock your body up the bed with each movement, as he pounded your already sensitive, abused pussy.

Slick, wet slaps echoed through the room, the sound of your cunt squelching obscene as he drove in deeper, harder, hitting that perfect spot again and again like he knew it by heart.

“Fuck,” he moaned, voice ragged, breath catching as you clenched down on him tight. “Gimme one—fuck, baby, gimme one more.”

It wasn’t like he even needed to ask. At this point, you had no control over your body, especially not with the way he was pounding into you while his fingers pinched your clit, only to soothe it with a teasing, gentle rub right after.

Your entire body responded to him like a live wire, tension building faster than you could process. Then, without warning, a gush of wetness burst from you, soaking his lower abdomen and the sheets below as your body trembled violently, nerves on fire from the overwhelming pleasure.

“Fuck—look at that,” he moaned, eyes wide in surprise, a slightly disbelieving smile curling on his lips. “So messy for me. So fucking good.”

You spasmed beneath him, body jerking as every muscle finally gave out, going limp all at once. He was so turned on by how completely he’d unraveled you, it took him a few seconds to even register it, until he stilled inside you, balls deep, as he spilled hot ropes of cum into your waiting cunt.

“Shit,” he hissed, breath ragged, brushing damp hair from your face and noticing how your eyes fluttered, your body still twitching softly. “You passed out?” he asked with a soft laugh as he leaned down to kiss your forehead. “Yeah… I’ll take that as a thank you.”

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