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roguelov · 1 year ago

Text

Let Me Help

Summary: On a mission with Miguel to stop a variant of Doc Ock, you accidentally inhale something you shouldn’t have. You actively try to ignore these burning desires raging through you. However when Miguel notices your odd behavior, he finally confronts you. A confrontation that leads to this thing you need most: him.

Word Count: ~6.6k

Reader: Afab (no fem pronouns used)

Warnings: SMUT (sex pollen, fem!masturbation, fingering, unprotected sex, riding, oral (fem!receiving), doggy style, multiple orgasms, slight praise kink, voyeurism, cockwarming, switch!reader, switch!Miguel), smut with some feelings, unestablished relationship, mutual pining

MINORS DNI/ 18+ ONLY

The salty harbor water splashed against the algae covered docks of the warehouse district. Smog of the city filtered into the already cloudy night sky. The sea and city - cars and boat horns - clashed together in an odd cacophony. Your nose wrinkled as the sting of salt mixed with newly poured asphalt.

On top of a warehouse, you and Miguel stood side by side overlooking the massive, old and rundown, area. Another anomaly was plucked and dropped off in a universe where they shouldn’t be. The Spider-Man, Peter W. Parker, of this world was unfortunately and temporarily subdued by the anomaly, a variant of Doc Ock. Peter was completely paralyzed from his encounter and was resting back at HQ as a team tirelessly tried to work on an antidote for him.

“Be careful,” Miguel warned.

“Always am,” you smirked under your mask, before leaping off the building to search the west end of the docks.

Miguel scoffed. Yet, his eyes watched you intently as you landed on another building. You slipped inside one of the broken windows and disappeared from view.

He paused, hesitating for a second, then turned away.

Searching through your area, the anomaly wasn’t in the first building. Or the second. You hoped, sending out a small prayer to the universe he was in the last building. If not, maybe Miguel had more luck than you.

The last warehouse was filled with wrecked boats strewn up on lifts, scattered repair parts, and half broken shipping crates. Moving around, your footsteps were light, and unheard. Nothing creaked, and dust barely moved. You tried a few office doors only to find them locked, or rusted shut. Sighing, you knew of another way to enter and luckily they all lined the edge of the warehouse.

Outside once again, you carefully scaled the building approaching the first set of windows. Brown paper covered most of the dirty glass, yet one window had no covers. The paper was luckily torn back. Peering inside, it was a packed room.

A manager's office was reinvented. The desk was pushed to the far wall. Crates piled into the room, acting as other workstations. Old and battered scientific equipment, some even haphazardly thrown together, filled the desk and crates. Cracked glass - cups, beakers, and vials - were scattered about. Scraps of tarp were laid across the floor and hung from the walls as if for protection. A harsh pungent smell soon assaulted your nose. Your face scrunched up in disgust. Chemicals, any and all so it seemed, were carefully placed into rows on the floor and on top of crates. While vials lined a chipped wooden shelf, poorly screwed into the wall. Each one a different color, and labeled with a system you didn’t comprehend or care to understand.

It was crowded, an office turned into a makeshift lab.

Yet, your eyes fell back to the obvious man taking up the cramped space.

If you could call him that.

He was an experiment, a genetic splicing, gone wrong. He was a human on top while stormy blue grey tentacles were his legs. Strangely, he moved so easily. The appendages carried him with perfect posture, and also effortlessly reached for material around the homemade lab. As a tentacle slithered past your view, you quickly noted the tips had black barbs.

You carefully pushed on the window to thankfully find it unlocked. You crawled through and softly dropped in. But, he was somehow alerted to you.

He whipped around, beakers and vials with unknown liquid swayed in his hands. Massive goggles were strapped around his bulging inky black eyes. Tubes of water wrapped around the side of his neck over gills. A torn, stained lab coat hung off his bare torso. Yet, despite his somewhat menacing appearance, he cowarded at your presence. A whine, a bubbling of water, erupted from him.

You raised your hands, hoping to calm him, “Hey, hey, there’s no need to be scared. We’re just going to get you back home, okay?”

As if proving your point, he glitched. He groaned, leaning into a wooden crate. His massive eyes locked with yours. He violently shook his head. “No, I’m not going back.”

“I’m sorry, but you have to. If you don’t you’ll destroy yourself and possibly this universe.”

“No!” He immediately threw whatever vial he had in his hand.

You easily dodged it, but it splattered into the wall behind your head. A sickly sweet aroma filled your nose. You coughed, waving it away. While you were distracted, he fled. He moved with surprising agility, and squeezed through a small air vent.

“Shit.” You coughed one last time. You pressed your watch, calling Miguel. Clearing your throat, you said, “Miguel, I found him. Far west end of the docks, and he’s on the move.”

“Understood.”

You stepped forward and the world tilted. You quickly stumbled into the crates. You grunted as a dull ache rolled through you. Clenching your jaw, you shoved down the pain.

Not now. We will deal with this later.

You dove through the window to catch Doc Ock who was scrambling down an alleyway. His tentacles made a distinct ‘thwap’ as he ran away. For a moment, your vision blurred. Your grip loosened as you slid down a few inches down the brick wall. Gritting your teeth, you shook your head. Everything cleared again. Ignoring the obvious signs, you fired a web and swung down into the alley.

Miguel, however, beat you to it.

Landing in the alleyway, Miguel stood over the now unconscious Doc Ock. The red glowing webs secured around his torso and tentacles. You let out a silent thanks.

Miguel turned around, and approached you. “Are you okay?”

His voice reverberated throughout your body. Your heart leapt into your throat. You let out a shaky breath, trying to calm yourself. “Yeah, I’m good.”

His eyes trailed over you. You were breathing heavily, why? Did the two of you fight? How did this anomaly slip past you?

“Ready?” You asked, already opening up a portal.

“Yeah,” he muttered, grabbing the anomaly.

After dropping off the anomaly at HQ, you said your quickest farewells and practically ran back home to your universe, to your apartment. Your chest started to constrict horribly when Miguel was nearby. It wasn’t the giddy childhood crush you were already accustomed too, but this deep heart wrenching ache of desire.

It frightened you.

You had to get away from him.

Returning home, you found your city basking in the moonlight. Neon signs and billboards flickered in the distance. And the usual rush of cars quieted down just enough for most of the city to fall asleep. However, sleep would not come tonight for you.

You tossed and turned endlessly. Your heart raced, like a hummingbird in flight trapped in a cage. Sweat beaded over your forehead. The dull ache from before started to move farther south of your body. You groaned and arched your back.

What … what the hell is this?

You rolled over, burying your face into the pillow.

We’re fine. It’s fine. It’ll pass.

It didn’t.

The moon, with its siblings of stars, fell and the soon burning and bright sun rose over the horizon. Yet, these sensations never wavered. Dare you say, they intensified. Your sheets were kicked off the bed, pillows tossed across the floor in fits of rage, and your clothes skewed and damped with sweat.

Fuck.

Your body ached horribly.

Hot flashes surged through you in intense waves. You groaned, curling into a tight ball. However, it was the growing heat between your legs that was becoming unbearable. You unconsciously rubbed your thighs together. The minimal friction, basically nothing, caused you to moan.

“Fuck,” you whimpered.

Shower. A cold shower might help.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you shuffled into the bathroom and slammed the door behind you. You turned on the show to the coolest, and still comfortable, temperature. This should help, hopefully. Stripping out of your sweaty clothes, you hopped in. You hissed slightly. The water was a shock to your overheated, clammy skin. Pressing your palms into the shower wall, you dunked your head under the water like a poorly done baptism. You needed to cleanse yourself and your unholy thoughts.

You forced yourself to stay there. You gritted your teeth, and squeezed your eyes shut. The water pounded over you. Each drop were needles: sharp, quick, and irksome. But, standing under the water, you were still unbelievably hot, still painfully aroused.

Screw it.

One hand skimmed down your body between your legs. One swipe over your soaking folds and your knees nearly buckled. Still holding yourself up with one hand, and hunched under the running water, you slowly dipped your fingers inside yourself.

And immediately, his face appeared behind your closed eyes.

You could easily conjure up a scenario, and you happily indulged in your fantasy.

He was in the shower with you. Still bent over, his arm wrapped around your waist, holding you up. His chest pressed firmly into your back. His skin was so warm compared to the cool water. His lips brushed over the shell of your ear. His thick fingers were inside you, it was his fingers bringing you to your release.

You moaned, pumping yourself faster.

“That’s it,” his voice whispered in your ear. “Just like that.”

“Shit,” you hissed.

“Come on,” he encouraged with a light chuckle. His hand brushed up your sides to your breasts. He gently pinched and played with your nipples. “Come on, cum around my fingers.”

You curled your fingers, making your walls flatter. You whimpered. The sinfully wet sounds mixed with the water rushing over you. You were close, far closer than you expected.

His lips skimmed down your neck. “That’s it, almost there.”

You bit your lip. You quickly flipped yourself around, supporting yourself with your back to the shower wall. Your other hand played with your clit, swirling around, as your fingers worked faster. It was messy, it was desperate. A whine rumbled in the back of your throat.

“Oh, please, cum for me. You’re so close, I can feel it.” His fingers curled, beckoning you towards your end.

It built and built, then it all snapped so suddenly and forcibly. You came hard around your fingers. “Fuck,” you hissed out.

He hummed, working you through your orgasm. “There it is.”

You leaned heavily into the wall, panting and dizzy from your rapid orgasm. You closed your eyes for a second, and let the water wash everything away.

Meanwhile, a familiar looking portal opened up in your bedroom. Miguel stepped out with a tension wrought into his shoulders. His mask retracted and his crimson eyes slid over your room, your messy room. He raised an eyebrow, surveying your room. The one thing that concerned him the most was you weren’t here.

Where were you?

“Fuck.”

Miguel’s head whipped over to the closed bathroom door. He heard you so clearly. He almost moved, almost burst through the door, but he stayed rooted in place.

Why couldn’t he move? What if you were in trouble, what if -

The shower turned off. He heard you move around, and he saw your shadow flash under the door. If you were moving, then maybe nothing was wrong. Then without warning, the bathroom door swung open with a resounding bang.

Miguel flinched, startled by the sudden noise.

Water still dripped down from your hair and down your face. Hunched forward, you propped yourself up with one hand on the doorframe. Your chest heaved. You gulped down air as if you ran a marathon. You wore only a baggy shirt which clung to your still wet skin. Your eyes swiveled over, instantly clocking Miguel’s unexpected presence.

Miguel’s eyebrows furrowed. “Are you okay?”

“What are you doing here?” You asked, ignoring his initial question.

“You haven’t responded to my calls.”

You glanced over to your watch, blinking on your nightstand. “Sorry, I was busy.”

His eyes trailed over your body. Concern filled him. He repeated, “Are you okay?”

“Just dandy.”

His lips thinned. Why were you like this? So goddamn stubborn sometimes. “You don’t seem fine, especially since our mission last night.”

“I’m just tired,” you huffed. “And a little sore.”

God, even now your body was still aroused. And with Miguel being here, it was making everything so much worse. Your fantasy from only moments ago was seared heavily into your mind.

He needed to leave before you did something you regretted.

Miguel sighed, crossing his arms. “Are you sure? Did -“

“I said I’m fine.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine, whatever.” So be it. He pressed a button on his watch, opening up a portal back to HQ. He paused. He clearly wanted to say something, but didn’t. He stepped through without uttering another word.

You wanted to call him back, you wanted to shove him onto the bed, you wanted to him and happily bounce on his -

You groaned loudly, rubbing your hands over your face.

Dear god - universe, whatever - just someone save me from myself.

You reluctantly crawled back into bed. Maybe, the shower helped. Maybe, with Miguel gone you could rest. Maybe, this was all over.

Maybe, you were just delusional.

Tonight was no better than last night. In fact, it was probably worse. Fantasies of Miguel flooded your mind, and you couldn’t satisfy yourself no matter what you did.

You will find a solution tomorrow.

There had to be one.

The next morning, before the sun properly greeted the world, you pushed yourself up and out of bed. You had an idea on where to start. Not bothering with your suit, you kept your baggy shirt and pulled on an old pair of sweatpants. You slipped on your watch and opened up a portal to HQ. You marched directly towards the area where all the anomalies were being contained. Containers lined the area as their chorus of voices begged to be released. Your eyes swiveled around, trying to locate the one anomaly who had any possible explanation to your current endeavor. But, you couldn’t find him in the sea of people. Getting frustrated, you turned your attention towards the person operating the ‘Go Home’ machine.

“Spider-Byte.”

Margo, the purple holographic girl, whirled around. She smiled only for it to falter given your appearance. You were obviously and very plainly pissed. You glared icily, unable to calm yourself. Worst of all, every time you moved, pain and pleasure rolled through you.

“Whoa, are you -“

You cut her off, “The Doc Ock, the one Miguel and I brought in yesterday, is he still here?”

“Uh.” She brought up a screen and tapped on it. “Yeah, he’s still here but not for long. I’ll have him back home in a few hours.”

“I only need a few minutes. Just point me in the direction where he is.”

Margo did so without question, she gestured down a row of anomalies. Mumbling your thanks, you spun around weaving down the aisle until you finally saw him. You stomped over and pounded on the container.

“What the hell did you do to me,” you gritted your teeth.

The man blinked owlishly. “I’m sorry - oh, oh! You! Oh, this is fantastic! I’ve been hoping to see -“

You slammed your fist again. “Answer me! What the hell did I inhale!”

He shrank, and squeaked. “Oh, uh, that’s … that’s complicated.”

“How so?” You sneered.

“Well,” he fidgeted, his tentacles squirming around. “I don’t know exactly what I gave you.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I … I was experimenting with my toxin and - and I was constantly adding new compounds to it or trying to rewrite it.”

You clicked your tongue, and raised an eyebrow.

“And well, I was trying to make it stronger, more of a deadly venom than a paralyzing agent.”

“And so you don’t know what you gave me or what was in it?”

“… no … I needed more time to study it.”

“Fantastic.”

“Well, what are your symptoms? Tell me, what are you feeling? Any discomfort? Any pain? What about hallucinations?”

He was like a giddy child.

“Oh, yeah definitely some discomforts,” you sarcastically replied. You shook your head and turned away. He shouted after you, but you simply ignored him. It took all of your strength and willpower to not break through the containment and pummel him.

Taking calming breaths, you swiftly left the area. Passing by all the anomalies, each of them shouted at you as you tried to think of a way to make this suffering end. Peter W. Parker apparently was still in the medical wing dealing with his paralysis. So, time seemed to be the only reasonable solution you could think of. And it had been a day, surely it would wear off by now.

Even if you felt worse every hour.

“(Y/N).”

A hand curled around your wrist.

A fire unfurled in the pit of your stomach by such a delicate touch. You shuddered. You kept your head trained forward, and your back to the last person you wanted to see. He couldn’t see you like this.

Not now, not after yesterday.

“What’s wrong?” Miguel asked, then took in your disgruntled appearance. “You look like …”

Horrible? Like shit?

“It’s nothing, I’m fine,” you quickly answered, tugging your wrist out of his grasp.

“Clearly,” he sarcastically replied.

You bit your tongue. Dear god, his voice. So smooth, so rich. “I’m tired, okay? So, I’m just going home.”

“Wait -“

“Good day, Miguel.” You pressed a button and stepped through the portal.

Miguel clenched his fists. He was about to chase after you when Lyla appeared saying others needed him. Begrudgingly, he left. But, this wasn’t the end for him. He will get a proper answer from you.

You sighed deeply, standing back in your room alone. You collapsed forward onto the bed. A muffled groan erupted from you.

I can get through this, I’ll be fine.

An hour passed.

An ice pack, barely cold anymore, laid across your forehead. Your pants and underwear were discarded. You constantly tugged on the collar of your shirt and fanned yourself. Your body ached. You wanted to claw at your skin, you wanted to rip your hair out, you wanted -

You wanted Miguel. God, you wanted him terribly. You wanted him to bend you over.

“Just like that,” you imagined he would coo as he slipped his cock inside of you.

You tried pleasuring yourself, but nothing helped. Nothing satiated you. This swelling sensation only became more and more intense.

You hissed and curled up onto your side. The ice pack slid off your forehead. You lazily picked it up, tossing it onto your nightstand. Your eyes blinked slowly. You stared blankly at the wall, trying to focus on something - anything. Anything but the dampness between your legs, anything but your spiraling perverted thoughts.

Move.

Do something.

Call for help.

You languidly pushed yourself up, and hunched forward. Your head fell into your hands. Your chest continued to heave and tighten. Your heart pounded and rang in your ears. “Fuck me,” you muttered under your breath.

“Only if you ask nicely,” Miguel chuckled.

You shivered.

Almost summoned by your thoughts, yellow and orange lights burst to life behind you. You twisted around. A portal opened up, and a familiar hulking figure walked through: Miguel. Seeing his face, your heart sank. You whipped back around, unable and unwilling to face him.

Why? Why the hell was he here?

He squinted, seeing your decrepit posture on the edge of your bed. “Still fine I see.”

You rolled your eyes. “What do you want? I’m trying to rest.”

Miguel shuffled over. “I came here to see why you’ve been acting weird.”

“It’s nothing.”

He sighed, a short disappointed sigh. He lowered himself onto your bed. A notable gap was between the two of you. Yet, you could feel the heat roll off of him. You unconsciously leaned slightly towards him, desperately seeking him out.

“Talk to me.”

I’m worried about you, he thought.

He hadn’t stopped worrying. You were constantly on the forefront of his mind. Most of all, he wondered why you were avoiding him. Why were you locking yourself away in your room? What happened?

You stayed silent.

Miguel gently rested his hand on your shoulder. “Look -“

You flinched. You leapt away and hastily took a few steps away from him. “Don’t touch me.”

One touch and your body nearly crumbled.

His hand fell. Shock evident on his typically stoic face. His fist clenched. Anger was now getting the better part of him. “I’m trying to help you.”

You hugged yourself, keeping your back to him. “I’m - I'm fine.”

“No, you’re not.” He stood up. “Tell me what’s wrong?”

“I’m fine,” you repeated harshly.

Miguel clicked his tongue. He had enough of your constant dismissal. He grabbed your shoulders and whirled you around to finally face him. You gasped. He stared intently down at you, dissecting and analyzing you. You were panting, your skin glistened with sweat, and notably your pupils were completely dilated.

“What -“

You jerked away from him. And you unconsciously rubbed your thighs together.

Oh. Oh.

Miguel’s cheeks darkened faintly. He placed his hands on his hips, and glanced away. He cleared his throat, “How … how long have you been like … like that?”

You crossed your arms, and sighed. There was no use hiding it anymore. “Since our encounter with Doc Ock.”

His eyes flickered up. “So, he did do something to you.”

“… yes.”

“Which was?”

“He … he threw some substance at me and I accidentally inhaled it.”

He rubbed the spot between his brows, a common place for his headaches to start. “And why did you tell me?”

You tsked and sneered, “Oh sorry, boss, I can’t come in today. I can’t focus or do anything because I am unbelievably and painfully horny.”

God, this is humiliating.

Miguel sighed deeply, dropped his shoulders. “Well, maybe Doc Ock can -“

“He can’t help. I already confronted him, he was just a mad scientist who didn’t know what he created.”

He shifted his weight side to side. “Well, have you … you know …”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Miguel, we are not having this conversation.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. His eyes scanned over you again. God, he couldn’t deny that you were absolutely delectable right now. His mind ran rampant with impure thoughts. It was the way your lips parted as you breathed heavily, it was the way your body squirmed, it was the way you desperately tried to bury the noises ready to jump out, it was the way you adamantly avoided his gaze, it was the way your hardened nipples poke through your shirt, it was the way how he could smell you and your arousal.

He wasn’t blind to your beauty. He was simply ignorant to his feelings and attraction. He buried it deep within him, unwilling to acknowledge any of it. But, seeing you now, seeing the discomfort you were in, seeing you in such a needy state, he wanted to help. He took a cautious step forward, “Maybe I can help.”

You snapped your head up, staring wide eyed at him. “What?”

“I said maybe I can -“

You shook your head and backed yourself away from him until your back bumped into the wall. “No, no, what needs to happen is that you need to leave.” Swallowing down such desire, you closed your eyes and muttered, “Just go.”

“I’m not leaving.”

Fucking hell.

You shouted, “Just get the hell out of here!”

Miguel didn’t respond. Cracking open your eyes, his gaze bore directly into you. It was a searing gaze. Your knees nearly buckled under the intensity. He stepped closer.

“Please,” you whispered, practically begging. “I - I … just … just not like this, not because of my dumb mistake.”

He froze, and his eyebrows knitted together.

Your gaze dropped to the ground. You couldn’t - and wouldn’t - look at him.

He slowly continued to walk towards you. You forced down a whimper. Sandwiched between the wall and him, he gently grabbed your chin. You flinched and squeezed your eyes shut. It pained you immensely to fight so fiercely against your desires and needs. He tipped your chin up. “Look at me.”

You kept your eyes closed, and your face scrunched up.

“Por favor, cariño. Please, look at me.”

Your heart flipped at his unusually sweet tone. You opened up your eyes, and was immediately greeted by his strangely, endearing, rosy crimson eyes.

“Good,” he murmured.

Oh, fuck.

Biting down on your tongue, you forced down any noises that almost dared to crawl out. You dug your nails into your palms. You wouldn’t dare touch him because if you did you wouldn’t let go.

“If I didn’t care for you in this way, I wouldn’t be here. I would be back at HQ working on a cure, on some antidote.” His other hand reached out and rested on your hip. He drew you close, flushing you to his chest. “But, am I at HQ right now?”

You didn’t trust your voice. You simply shook your head, a small twitch.

“You’re right, I’m not. I’m right here asking - begging - to let me help you.” He bent his head down, brushing his lips over yours. “Please, I want to help … I’ve … I’ve wanted this for so long.”

“Miguel.”

“Please.”

You let out a shaky breath. “I don’t … I don’t know what’ll do. I don’t know if I can control myself.”

He slowly pulled up the hem of your shirt. His hand skimmed across your lower back. He laughed once, “I can handle it. Please, let me help.”

His fingers lightly touched your skin. A groan rumbled in the back of your throat. “I don’t want you to think differently of me,” you whispered as your eyes dropped to his lips.

Your excuses were hollow now.

He moved his head, letting his lips brush over your neck. His hands snaked further up your back, and his talons gently scraped down. You moaned, arching your back into his touch. Your hands latched onto his biceps, squeezing them.

“My opinion of you won’t change,” he muttered into your neck. His leg slid between yours. Your swollen clit rubbed against his massive thigh.

“Fuck,” you hissed, clinging onto him.

“Just say yes, cariño.” He nuzzled his face into your neck. “I want to help.”

You cupped his face, looking directly into his eyes. His eyes were begging, pleading, for you. You brought him down, giving him a sweet, loving kiss. He hummed, wrapping his arms around you. However, you quickly broke the kiss before he could truly enjoy it.

Miguel didn’t understand. How would he know? He inadvertently poured gasoline over the already raging fire inside of you. Your eyes darkened. You pushed Miguel backwards until his knees hit the edge of the bed and he flopped backward. He held himself up on his forearms, stunned by your sudden change.

A smirk curled over your lips. A beast, one you had been holding back for more than a day, was finally unleashed. Locking eyes with him, you slowly stripped out of your shirt - your only article of clothing - letting it dramatically drop to the floor.

Miguel’s eyes greedily drank in your naked figure.

You crawled onto his lap, straddling him. You pushed him down so he laid flat against the bed. His hands instantly rested on your waist. You hovered over him, planting your hands on either side of his head.

He looked up at you with absolute adoration. He could not describe how thrilled he was right now.

You bent down, kissing him passionately. As you took the lead, you opened your mouth, deepening the kiss. Miguel hummed. He brought your hips down, making you grind down on him. You moaned into the kiss. Breaking apart, you muttered, “Fuck.”

You peppered kisses all over his face, and across his jaw. You desperately wanted to trail your lips all over him. It was such a ravenous feeling. You needed to mark him, to bite him, to taste him.

“Take the suit off,” you murmured, kissing the corner of his jaw.

He let out a pleased sigh. The digital suit retracted with a whirl of colors, revealing himself to you. You bit the inside of your cheek as you felt the tip of his cock brush against your inner thigh. Your lips brushed down his neck. He tilted his head, allowing you better access to do whatever you wished. Your heart soared. You slowly - teasingly so - kissed the crook of his neck. His grip on your hips tightened. Like a switch, you attacked his neck. Your teeth scraped across his sensitive skin. You nipped all along his neck needing to mark his skin. Oh, it excited you to know that these bruises would be under his suit tomorrow. Your tongue swirled over soothing any pains.

Miguel moaned.

What a beautiful sound.

Stopping your attack on his now blemished neck, your lips trailed further down his body. You kissed over his chest, occasionally biting his skin. Your eyes flickered up, seeing his head tilt back. You ran your teeth over his nipples. He groaned. You licked up his chest, tasting the saltiness of his sweat. You kissed up his jaw to his ear, and gently nibbled on his lope.

Miguel clenched his jaw. His heart flipped in his chest. He didn’t expect this, he didn’t expect to ever be here like this with you. He surely didn’t expect the control you quickly had over him.

And oh, he loved it.

Lifting yourself up, you teasingly rubbed his tip across your dripping folds. He groaned, almost whimpering.

“Fuck, Miguel,” you moaned.

At such a simple movement, you were seeing stars. You weren’t sure how long you would last. You wanted to draw this out longer, you wanted to have more fun with him, but you couldn’t.

You needed him. And you were nearly insatiable.

You slowly sank down on his cock. Miguel hissed. You placed your hands on his chest, panting. Miguel soothingly rubbed his thumbs over your hips. You moaned, feeling how he stretched and filled you. No one made you feel this full or good. As you bottomed out, you swore under your breath.

Miguel chuckled to himself.

But, his amusement was cut short when you started to move. Lust flooded back into his veins. He moaned out your name. His talons popped out and dug into your hips.

You set the pace, a nearly brutal but wondrous pace.

And Miguel thought you looked divine.

Your head tilted back to the heavens. Your lips parted as you whispered his name like a prayer. Your body arched like an angel soaring up, like a renaissance painting. Your hands traced up your hypnotic body, playing with your breasts. He wanted to draw you back down, he wanted to shower you in kisses, he wanted to flip you over and pound into you. But, this was all for you. You were the one who was affected by something strange, you were the one to take the lead. You rolled your head, glancing down at him. A soft smile tugged on your lips.

Oh, the way you looked at him, the way you bounced on his cock, the way your eyes softened with affection, he felt his heart was going to explode.

His cock twitched inside of you.

You hummed.

You rolled your hips, and he swore in Spanish. Smirking, you changed the pace. It was slow and easy - just to have your fun, no matter how short lived it might be - then flipped to hard and fast - desperate to reach your end. And your end was coming quickly.

You happily split yourself and continuously moaned out his name. “Miguel,” you moaned, dropping your hands back on his chest. “I - I won’t last much longer.”

Miguel felt your walls clench around you. He gritted his teeth, and moaned. “That’s okay, that’s okay,” he whispered.

He helped you, lifting your hips along with your movements. He slammed you back down right as he bucked his hips up, grinding you further onto him. You gasped and swore.

“Fuck, Miguel, keep doing that,” you whimpered.

He smirked, enjoying your sounds. Moving you faster, you pounded on his cock. Your nails scratched across his chest in red ribbons. The coil tightened and tightened in the pit of your stomach.

You whined.

Miguel wanted to squeeze his eyes shut and lose himself in the feeling of you. But, he also wanted to watch you come undone. So, he watched hungrily.

It was getting sloppy and erratic.

You closed your eyes. You dropped your head, tucking your chin to your chest. But, fingers gently guided your chin back up. “Eyes on me,” Miguel murmured. “Please, I want to see it.”

You melted into his touch, then he bucked his hips right as you went down. The coil snapped. Your walls clamped down around him as your orgasm crashed through you. You moaned out his name as you stared down at him with hooded eyes.

Miguel clenched his jaw. Oh, what a sight. His cock jumped.

Your movements, however, didn’t slow down. You wanted Miguel to cum, you wanted to feel it. You grabbed Miguel’s face and forced him to sit up. You kissed him heatedly as you still rode him. Miguel hummed. Your fingers threaded into his dark curls, and yanked on them.

He whined.

Your eyes sparkled. “Come on, Miguel. Cum for me.”

Miguel shivered. Your words, your body, it was so wondrous. He bucked his hips up, cumming inside of you.

Finally stopping your relentless movement, you dropped your head onto his shoulder. Both of you were gasping for air. Your eyes flickered down, seeing the mess you both created.

You shivered.

Miguel, however, surprised you. He flipped you over, landing you on your back. You gasped. Before you could do or say anything, Miguel dropped to his knees onto the floor, yanked your body down the bed, then nestled his face between your legs.

He devoured you like a starved man.

Your lips parted in a silent moan as your eyes rolled back. You arched your back, and tangled your fingers into his hair.

He wanted to taste you. God, he dreamt of this so many times. Although, he didn’t dare admit it out loud. He groaned. He lifted one of your legs, tossing it over his shoulder. His hands fiercely grabbed your thighs. His talons scraped along your inner thigh. He buried his face deeper. His nose brushed over your already sensitive clit and you cried out. He growled, the taste of you and him on his tongue was divine.

“Miguel,” you gasped.

He forcibly pulled himself away, panting. His chin and lips were covered in mixed juices. His eyes were lit with primal desires. He smirked, flashing his fangs. You scrambled up. You grabbed the back of his neck, smashing your lips to his. You easily slipped your tongue inside his mouth, swirling it around. You hummed in delight, tasting him and yourself.

You still wanted more.

Needed more.

The residual of whatever affected you still lingered.

You pulled away from him. Your combined hot breaths filled the minimal space between the two of you. With you still on the bed on your knees, you finally had some height over Miguel. You cupped his face, and tilted his chin up. His arms wrapped around your waist, pressing you into him. You smiled then brushed your thumb over his lip. Without hesitation, he parted his lips and you slipped your thumb into his mouth. His tongue ran over the pad of your thumb, and the tip of his fang grazed over it.

You shivered, causing him to smirk.

You removed your thumb. You couldn’t help yourself. You leaned down, kissing him sweetly again. It was a confession, and a thank you. He sighed into the kiss. You slowly parted, lingering for a second. It was so tender, despite the cum and saliva coating his chin and your lips. And your following words reminded Miguel how and why he got into this bizarre, surreal situation.

“I want you to fuck me from behind,” you whispered.

Miguel’s eyebrows shot up for a moment, then he chuckled. “Of course,” he purred. Whatever you wanted, he was happy to do. “Can you get on your hands and knees for me?”

You bit back a smile. Your fingers skimmed along his jaw as you backed away and got into position. Miguel watched, transfixed. His eyes trailed down. Seeing your soaking folds, he moaned softly. He can still taste you on his tongue. He licked his lips. Crawling onto the bed, he carefully grabbed your hips.

“You’re too good for me,” he confessed quietly.

You sighed under the simple praise.

He lined himself up, just teasing your entrance. You began to fist the sheets in anticipation. He leaned down. His broad chest pressed firmly into your back, and he whispered in your ear, “But now, let me be good for you.”

He easily pushed himself in.

You moaned unabashedly.

“That’s it, let me hear you,” he grunted.

This round was hot and fast. There wasn’t adoration or love this time, this was solely desires and sins. This was using each other’s bodies.

And Miguel was animalistic. God, it was utter bliss.

You grinded back, meeting his thrusts. You dropped down onto your forearms unable to support yourself fully. Your face buried into the sheets as you cried out. His cock was kissing spots you didn’t think was possible.

Miguel smiled, enjoying your muffled sounds and how you squirmed. His fingers reached around and began to play with your clit. You swore as your body shuddered. Your walls fluttered around him.

He rolled his head back at the sensation. It was as if you were made perfectly for him.

“Miguel,” you whined.

You wanted this so badly. You moved your hips feverishly in tune with his. Skin slapped together, wet noises echoed, and voices cried out. Miguel gasped. His talons buried into your hips, drawing out small specs of blood. He gritted his teeth, almost baring his fangs.

“Ay dios mío,” he grumbled.

Neither of you would last long.

You were begging under your breath. You needed it, you needed him. “Fuck, Miguel, please.”

“I know, I got you,” he groaned, pounding into you. “Let go, cum for me.”

You moaned.

With his fingers, his pace, and your already stimulated body, you came. You gushed around his cock, and slumped heavily into the bed. As your walls clamped down again, Miguel hissed as he spilled himself inside of you. He continued to gently rocked his hips as you both came back down to reality.

The air buzzed with the aftermath.

Your grip on the sheets loosened. You turned your head, glancing back at him: his chest covered in new bruises, his sweat covered forehead, and his fangs and talons were still out. You shivered at the sight. His eyes flickered over, connecting with yours. He gave you a tired smile. He bent down and kissed the spot between your shoulder blades.

You hummed softly.

Miguel rolled onto the bed. His arms wrapped around your waist as flushed your back to his chest. His now softened cock still buried inside.

“Better?” He murmured into your ear.

You nodded.

“Good,” he sighed. “Just … just stay like this with me, please.”

To be fair, you had no energy to argue or care. A day of exhaustion finally caught up to you. You relaxed into his embrace, enjoying the comfort as well as the fullness of him still inside of you. You placed a hand over top of his and intertwined your fingers with his. You squeezed his hand.

“Thank you,” you muttered.

He kissed your shoulder. “You’re welcome. Now rest, cariño, I got you.”

I always will, he thought as you drifted off in his arms completely satisfied.

#across the spiderverse #spiderverse #atsv #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x afab!reader #miguel x reader #miguel x afab!reader #afab!reader #smut

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nolovelingers · 9 months ago

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TELL ME YOU DONT FEEL IT ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ wes hicks !!

⋆ ★ wes has had a crush on you since what feels like the beginning of time and he’s finally determined on getting you to tell him whether the feelings are reciprocated or not. — short blurb !!

cw ᝰ.ᐟ sfw ,, talk of weed ,, readers high ,, fluff

dancing under the florescent night sky of the moon, a deep blue tarp with an array of stars scattered in groups like white paint on a canvas as laughter beamed from the depth of your body resided you and wes hicks.

a bittersweet feeling harmonized along with the two of you as you swayed to your own rhythm, not a single worry or doubt making itself present in your mind as you gave your thoughts away to the buzzing sensation vibrating all through you.

the 5’8 male had not been there initially to witness the intaking of a blunt rotation you shared between few friends, but he was quick to head over the second you asked.

there was worry that struck through his body at first as he picked up your call after only two rings, a small panic at seeing your name on his phone at such late hours of the night and it wasn’t until he heard you speak the protectiveness that ran through his veins settled only after a short explanation.

you had asked him to come and walk you back home, worried to do so alone and not in the sober mindset.

he rushed over as soon as he could, leading up to the present moment as you laughed away the cruelty of the world, stumbling just slightly as you skipped and danced without song.

“spin me!” you requested, and the hicks boy felt blood rush up to his face at the sudden odd request, your fingers reaching for his in a cupping motion.

complying with an awkward smile he lifted his arm, twirling you around and watching the way your clothes blew along with the direction of the wind, outlining the figure of your body that was just beautiful in his eyes. “how much did you have?” he mindlessly questioned, laughter threatening to poor from between his bubblegum pink tinted lips as he watched you with an intent gaze. his attention was solely on you and he was met with a shrug of your shoulders.

“why, did you wanna hit?” you didn’t even have to ask before you felt the pending answer, flipping your body around and walking backwards as you continued holding onto his slim fingers with your own.

“uhh, no, i don’t smoke.” he glanced at your hand that was still wrapped around his with a lingering look in his eyes that you were fast to mistake for him being uncomfortable, letting go of his hand and not noticing the slightly disappointed emotion rupturing over his features as he nervously looked at the pavement below the two of you.

you smiled, his response turning out exactly as you expected while continuing to walk the wrong way forward. wes eyes you carefully, prepared to shoot his arms out and catch you at the chance you fell. “i know. you’re a little mamas boy. it’s cute though, i really admire that.” there was nothing but genuineness in your voice as you spoke and the bleach-haired boy felt the need to turn his head away in a daze of embarrassment, the feeling of a rosy tint creeping over his fair skin.

there’s silence for a moment and he clears his throat, sticking his hands in the pockets of his grey-washed jeans and opting to try and switch the topic away from him. “how you feeling?” softly and with genuine concern in his ocean-blue eyes he met your vision with his, a light-hearted smile twitching the corners of just one side of his mouth up slightly.

“amazing,” you’re quick to answer him, finally flipping your body the right way round. “i feel like im one with the environment!” you giggle, so much intense passion evident in your voice while you announced your mindset to the boy; who’s blonde hair was breezing into patches with the wind, his dark brown roots becoming even more apparent.

wes watches you with a certain intensity of emotion in his eyes. like a mother watching her kid say their first words, or a doctor witnessing their patient start to walk again after being paralyzed for years.

he grins, keeping his head turned as he breaks his gaze away from you. you’re able to see the point of his canines clearly as he stays faced away, and suddenly you’re switching roles, finding yourself unable to look away from him.

you had never really seen him in this light before. not literally, the dark nightfall dimming his face; making his skin look smoother than it ever has, his jaw seemed to pop more, or maybe he was just clenching it, the yellow hue of lamplights coming and going as you walk down the concrete along with him and back to the neighborhood you both have been living in since you could open your eyes.

you had seen wes almost every day of your life. walking to school together, all the days you hung out, sharing classes and even carpooling with each others parent every once in a while.

but you had never really seen him like this. clearly.

and through the dim lighting, through the shadows of the night and the dark pallet of colors swarming the two of you you swore that you had really seen him. and there wasn’t a word to describe the feeling either. it was just like something was turning in your head, gears clicking after so many years.

he was enticing.

enticing you, and drawing you in without meaning.

he notices the quiet that fell between the two of you, and finally meets eye contact with you again. as soon as he does, he notices you had already been staring and an enormous blush immediately takes over him as he tries to figure out how long you had been watching him.

he brings his eyes back down, watching the floor and you notice as he carefully steps over every crack littered on the gray surface. finally you reach the street of your neighborhood, not too far from your friends house, and the boy instinctively grabs onto the cloth of your shirt as you cross the road to get to the right street.

you smile to yourself as you walk side to side next to him and he doesn’t once let go, watching both sides of the road for cars like one could come whipping through and cutting the corner any second to turn the both of you into road kill.

when you reach the next set of sidewalk, now down the path to your house, and he still hasn’t let go, you decide to direct the conversation. “are you gonna tell your mom why you had to come get me?”

he goes quiet for moment, turning to you with his brows furrowed like you had just asked him a really obvious question. “of course not.” a sound that sounds like a mix of a scoff and a giggle leaves his mouth. “even if i did it’s not like she’d arrest you.”

you roll your eyes, bumping your shoulder into him as you walk in sync together. “she’s the sheriff.” you slightly lean into him as you walk and he lets out a little sigh.

“yeah but.. it’s you.”

“what do you mean ‘it’s me’?”

clearly he wasn’t expecting you to want clarification on what he meant, his silence answers that for you. he looks at you, the crickets of the night being the only thing audible. “just.. you’re like my best friend. she wouldn’t arrest you over something like weed. to be honest, I think she smoked a few times when she was a teenager too.”

you hum, the drowsiness stage beginning to set in as you lean more into him, staggering just slightly. wes notices your irregular steps and drapes an arm around your shoulder, leaning you into him as an attempt to balance you.

you smile into his sleeve and don’t even notice the way he’s puffed his cheeks out or stopped breathing completely as he held you closer to him.

finally, you reach your house, the familiar structure waiting in front of you; dark and quiet.

“you’ll make it in okay?” he removes his arm, guiding you lightly in front of him so he can meet your eyes and you have to fight back rolling them at such a silly question but end up smiling at his worry over nothing.

“i don’t know, 15 more feet and im not sure ill have mine anymore.” you smirk at him and he rolls his eyes at you, a look of fondness adoring his features.“ughhh, i guess i should go. call it a night. thank you wes, seriously.” you smile at him, messing with his hair a little. he opens his mouth and then closes it again, like he’s debating saying something more; so you stay a moment longer.

he doesn’t say anything, and after debating with yourself internally for about 5 seconds you lean [down/up] and press a kiss to his cheek; which feels hot under your lips.

you could literally hear his breathing pick up, and when you finally break away from his skin he’s not looking anywhere near you but has rather zoned off somewhere behind you.

“goodnight wes.” you offer him a embarrassed smile before turning away, walking back to your door.

you make it a whopping 4 steps away before he’s calling out after you.

“stop.” there’s actual irritation in his voice, which isn’t normal, and you turn back to face him. he’s standing in the exact same spot with the same dazed look on his face only now he looks a little angry and confused as his forehead is creased and brows are pushed together while looking at you. “what is this? what are you doing?”

you’re confused, clasping your hands together to help gather warmth as a cold breeze runs through the air. “what do you mean?”

wes shakes his head, looking away and then back at you several times and it’s obvious he’s fighting with himself internally. “you know what i mean. this. us. what are you doing? why?”

you don’t look away from him once, confidently staying in your place as you cross your arms; embarrassed to address the situation but not nearly as much as he was. “can you clarify?” it’s kind of obvious what he’s talking about, but there’s some idiotic part of you in your mind forcing you to act stupid which only drove wes more mad.

he opens his lips and an estranged laugh leaves, like someone having a nervous breakdown and randomly starts giggling. it’s an agitated laugh.

“please, whatever you’re doing, stop. stop acting like you don’t know what i mean. you know what you’re doing, and- and what you just did. you must know what kind of effect you have over me or something because at this point it’s getting frustrating when you do these things but can’t even address it. it is like, physically hurting my heart at this point because all i can do when i try to sleep is stare at the ceiling and think about you and what you do to me and whether or not you know what you’re doing or if it’s unintentional and it’s driving me nuts. tell me you don’t feel it. tell me you don’t feel this!” despite how frantic his words come out, and how panicked and vulnerable he looks, he speaks clearly and strings the right words together to express himself. that’s always been a great trait about him. wes was great with his words and knows exactly how to describe how he’s feeling. he just struggled on having the courage to get them out.

you almost don’t know what to say, but there’s no time to find your words before he’s speaking again.

“and don’t give me any more bullshit about how you don’t know exactly what im taking about or how im not being ‘clear enough’ for you. i mean, seriously, i shouldn’t have to spell it out for you at this point because all of our friends know that i like you and even your family, which i tried so hard especially to hide it from, figured it out so fast. it’s not rocket science. besides my mom and tara you are the only girl i consider myself close with and there’s no way it’s not obvious to you when you ask me about the girl i like because it is definitely not tara, and it is definitely not my mom. i like them but not in the way i like you, not in the way you won’t leave my mind so much so it’s frustrating. i can hardly focus in class because I can’t stop thinking about us or if there even is an us or what could happen or if you feel the same way and it’s unfair because there has to be some part of you internally that knows I like you when you kiss my cheek or text me every morning and night or run your fingers through my hair when we hang out and I hate it so much because I can’t read you the same way you can read me and I can’t tell if you’re doing these things just to mess with me or because you might actually feel the same way.”

wes, now out of breath, let’s out quiet gasps and inhales of air after he finishes speaking. he stammers in place for a second, trying to catch his footing as he looks around the environment and at anywhere but you. trying to avoid your eyes. your face. it was all on the line now and he was terrified of what you might say.

“you.. like me?” you repeat to yourself, keeping your eyes trained on his face. this finally gets the hicks boys eyes to land back on you with a frustrated sigh; like you just asked the dumbest thing in the world.

“are you really gonna ask me that after I just finished my dramatic epilogue?”

a smile takes over your face from the way he says this, his breathing still uneven. so many thoughts churn through your head as you try to process what this all means. what this all could mean for you and the future of your friendship with wes.

“you’re right, sorry.” you awkwardly smile, taking one step closer to him as you begin to try to gather your mind and express what you were thinking.

“you’re not worried about this changing us? our friendship? what if we breakup?” all reasonable questions to ask, they come flying out of your mouth one by one and wes feels his heartbeat quicken in hope as he realizes you haven’t yet rejected him.

“youch, thinking about breaking up already?” the blonde feins hurt and places a hand loosely over his heart which earns an eye roll from you before he shakes his head. “do you even know how much I like you? I mean, clearly not. the last thing I would ever want is for us to breakup. if that happened, that’s on you. and our friendship? what do you mean? did you just friendzone me? (y/n).” wes lets out one last final sigh before grabbing for one of your hands with both of his, locking eyes with you nervously.

“please, i just need to know how you feel. if you don’t feel the same way, it’s fi-“

the feeling of his lips on yours is as soft as you could have ever imagined. they were plump and tasted of strawberry chapstick. a far too prolonged kiss was shared, and you cupped one side of his face with your hand while bringing the other behind his neck.

wes felt his knees buckle underneath him, feeling like he was in a dream. he had dreamed of this moment for so long and was now having a hard time believing it was real. the kiss almost felt too perfect.

after a few delayed seconds he gently placed both hands on your waist, holding you down in place as he moves his lips against yours as if to stop you from ever leaving.

you pull away, face burning a bright red and heart pounding an unnatural rate before you finally open your mouth to speak.

“i feel it.”

` ੈ˚ ★ a / n : i deadass started ts 7 months ago but it’s been rotting in my drafts since school started back and nasa wanted to recruit me as a potential subject in their spacial exposure severer super undercover mission

started 08.06.23.

finished 03.29.24.

( scream masterlist )

©️ nolovelingers 2024

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invinciblerodent · 6 months ago

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These days I kind of can't stop thinking about how much I enjoyed the possibility of being from Orzammar in Origins, specifically because just being who you are put so much of the early game in a wholly different context.

Like, a dwarf from Orzammar has, by definition, lived literally under a rock their whole lives!! They've never left the underground, and yes, while that also makes their ignorance of surface squabbles (the mage issue, the Ferelden/Orlais conflict, everything with the city elves and the Dalish, etc.) make a lot of sense, it also comes with so many interesting new angles that I'm honestly so surprised still that I've never really seen it mentioned very often, if at all. (Even though we even get an explicit moment to reflect on it, when leaving with Oghren.)

In Origins, the moment a dwarf first steps out through the gates of Orzammar and begins the game, is a profoundly life-altering experience. Dare I say, even more so than it is for an elf or a human. Because stepping out, for the first time, they are entering an entirely new world, and for the first time, in front of them is a vast expanse of nothing but air.

The end of the prologue, it's not just a fundamental personal change that awaits you, it's also a displacement so complete, that it's absolutely dizzying to even think about.

That first time a dwarf feels the sun on their skin, they are made sun-touched, a surfacer: stripped not only from caste and kin, of identity, but also faith and memory, any favor their ancestors may have still held for them, and any possibility of ever returning, as far as they know. (Aeducan may even have a bitter little chuckle over the irony of how they could very well have just one day before shrugged off the concerns of their surface brethren completely, only to be made one of them now.)

Their whole lives, they had always been able to see the opposite wall of the cave, or at least to know for sure that it's there, along with the miles and miles of unchanging, crystal-littered rock stretching protectively over their heads-- now all of that is gone. There's nothing between them, and the infinite and ever-changing blue, grey, orange, black of the open sky they've never seen, and in the distance, there's no wall-- just glorious, humongous mounds and spires of rock jutting up into the belly of the sky, the likes of which they've only ever seen from the inside.

Orzammar, despite no sunlight ever penetrating that far, is always lit bright, and it's heated by the lava streams and pools below. A dwarf has never known anything colder or warmer, brighter or darker, never seen seasons change... the biting winds and the frequent rains in Ferelden are completely new to them, not to mention the terrifying cracks of thunder that sound like the very Stone over them cracking in two, the bright flashes of lightning illuminating the night for but a moment, or waking in the middle of the night to what sounds like countless fingers pat-pat-patting the tarp of their tent, or the fact that animals -which are varied and plentiful and wholly alien- sometimes just randomly fall into the sky, like the rumors say! They might know academically that with birds, that just sort of tends to happen, but they've never seen one take off!!

Hell, all of surface flora and fauna are completely new to them-- it's likely they've only ever seen a tree or a dog in a picture book. Flowers, they've likely only ever seen as an expensive and frivolous luxury few can afford to have for a while, and even then, they are by necessity brought in removed from their roots, dead, wilting, taken from their natural place... while here, blooms just spring up underfoot willy-nilly, not entirely unlike mushrooms at the home which is not theirs anymore.

And... there must be something organic, something comfortingly animal to the scent of hundreds of warm bodies crammed into a sealed hole in the ground-- which is just gone now. The air is fresh, clean... empty, cold, lonely. No smell of spilled ale, piss, and vomit, no thick scent of the combined breaths and bodies of all their people... no scent of belonging, the air that moves their lungs now is no longer that which has moved those of all they've ever known, and every breath washes more, and more, and more of who they once were from inside their very body.

Being on the surface, it's like being thrust into an alien world, with which all just expects you to be intimately familiar. What do you mean the grass, the bugs, the birds, the leaves are strange? What do you mean you've never eaten leaves from this plant, fruit from this tree, the flesh of this creature you've only ever heard about? They laugh when you avert your eyes from the sky and try not to think about falling into it, or when you startle at the feeling of falling water suddenly hitting your skin, as if that was somehow funny, charming.

The night, which you've never before seen fall, is a comfort from all that endless, boundless seeing- but after the Joining, not even that is a relief.

Because if you're a dwarven Warden, all the dreams you've had in your life have been nightmares.

So you cope. You learn, and adapt, and endure.

Strong and immutable, like the Stone from which you were rent.

#dragon age #dragon are: origins #warden aeducan #warden brosca #uuuhhhh what else #no wonder Bartrand and Oghren struggle #Oghren specifically is such a tragic figure and he was done such a tremendous disservice in being made a comic relief character #i kinda climbed into this just a little bit with my #oc: arie aeducan #and made this kind of some of the basis of her relating to leliana #how they both are displaced from their homes and healing from the fatal betrayal of a loved one #uuuhhhhhh #maybe tagging this as #squirrel writes #just to keep it there because this is a bit closer to my creative writing type thingies than just straight up meta #CAN YOU TELL I'VE BEEN REPLAYING ORIGINS BOY I SURE CAN'T

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itsonlybaby · 7 months ago

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𐙚ᣟ݂﹒𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 - 𝐣. 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐡𝐲﹒

◜♡﹒﹒𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭﹒𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹒𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

wasnt sure if you wanted smut so if you do just send another req and ill gladly make a pt 2, tysm for the request!

John Murphy - Dropship

꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ ⸝⸝ Murphy was always protective of you, so when he thought Jasper sparked an interest in you- he was quick to shut it down. ﹒ 　 ⊹ 　⤷ cw: sfw, kissing

Being an engineer meant I had to be around Monty and Jasper whether I liked it or not- and I did like it, they were my first two friends on the ground. Other than Murphy.

Murphy and I had been friends on the Ark before we got incriminated, he was my best friend. We always did everything together. Stealing, pranking, once even blasting music through the intercoms. I always smiled at the memories, they were the only good ones I made on the Ark.

I'd like to think Murphy was still my friend, but most of his old self had been glossed over with the new ego of being Bellamy's 'second in command' as they called it. I think Bellamy knows more than half of these people trust Murphy, or well they did. Bellamy could've been easily taken over without the title, now that people were more afraid of Murphy given his recent history.

What happened to 'whatever the hell we want'?

With Murphy playing leader, I was left with Monty and Jasper. I enjoyed their company greatly- as weird as they were. Out of the two, Jasper and I had been the closest, though, I knew nobody could take the 'best friend' title away from Monty. Not that I was shooting for it, anyway. I had my own things to worry about, things most people in this camp couldn't care less about; Murphy.

I was sitting by the campfire next to Jasper and Monty, it was a cold day, the sun was resting behind grey clouds and only peeking through every now and then. Jasper must've noticed how my nose turned color because he unraveled himself from the jacket that was previously hiding his lanky body and wrapped it around my shoulders.

I smiled at his gesture, not knowing a certain someone was looking, "Thanks, Jasp."

Jasper gave me a warm smile in return, "You need it more than me," While the gesture was sweet, he in fact needed it more. The fire didn't look like it was helping anybody.

"Have you guys seen Murphy?" I muttered. I had been meaning to talk with him and catch up on how he's been. I missed our small talks. With him playing leader he's been too 'busy'.

Monty's eyes began trailing something behind me, "Walking into the dropship, why?"

It took me a few seconds to get what he said, the coldness from before melting away as I hurriedly handed Jasper his jacket back and left- leaving them questioning.

My demeanor appeared nervous, I wasn't sure how he viewed me anymore with his new act. We hadn't sat down and talked since we landed, I was sure he had already forgotten about me. But you don't know until you try, right?

Moving past the red tarp we used as a door I saw no sight of Murphy, I was about to give up when I heard a loud slam from the level above. It had to of been Murphy.

I swiftly made my way up the ladder and pushed open the hatch with a loud grunt.

"Murphy?" I asked as I stood up and dusted my hands off.

"Look who it is." A voice came from behind me, his tone was full of annoyance. I wasn't sure if the annoyance was towards me.

"This was a bad idea." I said, heading towards the hatch.

Murphy sighed and threw his head back, "Bored of flirting with Jasper?"

His sentence made me stop in my tracks, no way he thought that, right? He couldn't possibly think me and Jasper were more than friends, no offense Jasper. I felt anger bubbling in my chest as my face conformed to one of confusion as I tried to think of how he could've possibly came to that conclusion.

He took my silence as a sign to explain, "Where's his jacket?" The dots seemed to finally connect, he was jealous of Jasper.

Murphy was jealous of Jasper?!

No offense Jasper.

A wave of relief hit my body as I let out an exaggerated exhale, which only seemed to annoy Murphy further. I was relieved that's the only thing he was frustrated with, I'd never expected to see Murphy jealous over somebody interacting with me. I knew he was protective but I didn't think he was that protective.

"Me and Jasper are just friends, Murph," I said, my shivering hands going unnoticed by me.

"Friends don't sit that close, I see you guys talking like all the time," Murphy expressed, his brows furrowing as his voice grew more stern. He started walking closer to me and I took a few steps back, my back hitting the cold metal wall which sent shivers down my body.

"What're you doing?" I ask, my voice wavering.

"What I should've done a long time ago," Murphy's hands reached for my cheeks, the warmth of his palms engulfing them as his lips met mine.

I was shocked but I wasn't planning on moving away, I swore Murphy could've heard how fast my heart was beating. After a few seconds, my eyes fluttered shut and I leaned into the kiss, bringing my arms up around his neck only pushing him in more.

His body was flat against mine, the closeness brought a nice warmth to my body. His lips felt rough against mine and his nose fit cozy next to my nose.

I didn't have any thoughts, my mind went blank, and the only thing I was thinking about was how good Murphy tasted. My hands ran through his hair and his fingers ran across my jawline. Murphy was the first to pull away, leaving me feeling a sense of loss and emptiness- already missing the way his lips felt.

Murphy smirked almost like he sensed how I felt, he leaned into my neck and began sucking, leaving traces of him all over my neck. I gasped out at the feeling, but I didn't complain, I wanted people to know I was Murphy's.

After a while, Murphy finally felt satisfied with the amount of markings he made, not that I could see.

"Now everyone will know who you belong to," He gave me his classic shit-eating grin, clearly feeling full of himself as he admired the hickeys he left.

"Shut up," I said with a smile.

"Make me," He said, shrugging off his jacket and placing it into my hands, "Next time, just ask."

His fingers trailed along my jawline again, stopping at my chin and swiftly pulling me into another quick kiss, causing me to form a blush on my cheeks.

I was his.

◜♡﹒﹒𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭﹒𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹒𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

˖ㅤㅤ۫ㅤ ˚ ۪˓ @ taglist. ৎ ᐟ ۫

@yokolesbianism @itzdarling

#♱）john murphy ﹒୨୧ #the 100 #the 100 fanfic #x reader #the 100 x reader #john murphy #john murphy x reader #john murphy fluff #john murphy the 100 #murphy x reader #bellamy blake #the 100 fanfiction #john murphy fanfiction #t100 #the 100 s1 #jasper jordan #monty green

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witchpassing · 2 months ago

Text

The technician’s workstation washes the windowless room in sleep-deprived blue. On one monitor, an editing program grinds through the encoding process; on the other, a gaming stream, the volume turned down low. A bright cartoon figure undulates in the corner of the screen, jellyfish-like.

In the center of the basement is a plastic sheet. A camcorder here, two-thirds of a lighting setup there, a set of tools laid out on tarp. Pliers, drill, nailgun. Hammer, sledgehammer, bat. A clothing rack is pushed against the wall, mass-produced bodies hung in vacuum sacs, pale toes grazing the concrete. Somewhere in the dark, a server tower blinks and hums.

“Did good today,” the technician says. The back of her beat-up swivel chair creaks as she puts her weight on it. “The begging. I mean. People like that stuff. Could, y’know. Get you something? For playing nice?”

Something moves between the body rack and the servers, a silhouette folded into a dog crate, contours of a body traced through the bars in barcode-pattern light. A trailing mess of cables twists between the slats of the crate and into the back of a human-enough neck, shifting, dragging as the head rises. Two glass eyes catch the square highlight of the technician’s workstation.

The android opens its mouth. No sound comes out.

“Oh. Right.” The tech digs an universal remote from among the cans on her desk, a wedge of cheap grey plastic with the buttons taped over, and angles it into the cage. The doll’s vocal speaker flicks on with a muted little vbt.

“Don’t understand,” it says.

“Y’know,” the encoding process throws an error. The woman hisses to herself, fuck, and the doll presses itself into the back wall of its cage, as if the fetal curve of its spine can possibly get smaller, more placatory. Clicks. Keystrokes. The jellyfish pulses, swishing physics-simulated tendrils of ribbon and hair, diaphanous about a fuckable bell.

“A reward,” the technician says, once she’s coaxed the process back into line.

“Oh.” The android is silent for a moment. “Could I have. A pillow? Please. Or, or. A blanket.”

“But you’re not cold. That body doesn’t even, like. Have temperature sensors.”

“Sorry. S-sorry. It’s fine, I don’t want anything, I’m sorry–”

“Fuckin’, sure, whatever. I’ll find you some bedding.” The technician shunts her chair back, yawns, rubs at salt-crusted eyes. Her glasses settle crooked. “Be a really good girl for the next shoot, and I’ll… I don’t know. I’ll get you a stuffie or something.”

“You mean it?”

The technician glances over, finds the android staring back at her, lawn-deer eyes big and wide.

“Sure. I mean it.”

#this one's writing #it's been way too long. bluh

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sourlemonsprout · 10 months ago

Note

just imagine Alphonse and Seth’s individual reactions to finding out Sugarboo snorts when they laugh. Like you know they’re holding back for a bit when Seth first started staying with them but then Al was like “hey y’know they’ve got a snort laugh right?” and Seth demands proof (he believes it he just wants to see it for himself)

Alphonse x Seth x Boo (gn!reader)

Thank you so much for all the love and requests!!

Word Count: 862

──────༺♡༻──────

The sun had just begun to set, casting a warm golden glow across the living room where you sat comfortably snuggled into your boyfriend's side in one of your wide chairs in the living room.

"Are you sure you're okay sleeping down here on the couch, Seth?" you asked. "If you need a break, you can always take the bed. Or I can look for a sleeping bag somewhere around here." You turned your head away, trying to remember if you even had a sleeping bag anymore.

"No, no, it's alright. I'm fine Sugar, really," he assured you.

"I truly appreciate you lettin' me crash here," he said rubbing the back of his neck.

"It's no problem, really!" you assure him.

"I think he actually prefers camping to a warm bed. If you gave him a sleeping bag, you might have to go searching for him in the woods." Al said, drawing a light giggle from you, to which you brought a fist up to cover your lips.

"You laugh but it's true!" Seth nodded.

"To each their own I suppose, I'd gladly take a cozy bed any day over a tarp and sleeping bag." Al shrugged.

"Speaking of cozy, I'm gonna go change into some comfier clothes," you pat Al's leg before hopping up. Seth's gaze follows your figure as you hop up the stairs and disappear out of sight.

"You good?" Al asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Huh, oh, yeah." Seth shook his head slightly, a little flustered that he'd been caught staring.

"Uh huh, your face was lookin' a little pink there for a second." Al pried.

"Well, ya' know, they've got a nice laugh," he admitted quietly.

"It's uh, been a while since I heard a laugh like that," he said with his mouth drawn in a faint smile, the edges of his deep brown eyes grew soft.

"Oh yeayea," Al nodded.

The boys sat in comfortable silence, taking in the moment and appreciating the calmness around them. It had been a long time since they had felt so at ease in each other's presence. There wasn't the slightest hint of tension, regret, or anger between them. They had finally found a moment of respite, and it was all thanks to the sunshine that you had brought into their lives.

"You know they snort when they laugh hard enough?" Alphonse broke the silence. Seth spun his head to face Al, his eyebrows furrowed slightly with disbelief.

"Really?"

"Mmm, it's true." Al nodded. A flicker of light danced across his eyes as he leaned back in his chair, "I remember bein' a little shocked the first time I heard it. But I gotta admit, everything's just so much funnier with a laugh like that," he recounted, a warm smile spreading across his face. The more Seth thought about it, he could totally picture you snorting while you laughed, and oh he longed to hear it.

"Well, I just have to believe it when I hear it for myself," he stated matter-of-factly.

"I know they've been hiding it, but I'll see if I can break them," Alphonse said with a smirk.

It wasn't long before you entered the living room, wrapped in fresh pajamas and holding a blanket, there was a spring in your step as you walked.

"Here, I brought down this extra blanket for you," you said, chucking the soft grey blanket that you were holding onto his lap before collapsing on a chair.

"It's startin' to feel like a slumber party up in here," Al said, bumping his hands up with a silent 'whoop-whoop'.

"You guys wanna watch a movie?" you ask, eyes angling for the remote before the boys were nodding their heads.

"Alriiiight!" you say with a huff as you slap both needs and bend forward to get up.

"Jesus, you stand up like a Midwestern dad," Al laughs as he mimics your actions dramatically, leaving you two giggling at one another like children. As Alphonse continues to mock you for 'being an old man', your giggles turn into full-blown laughs until a small snort escapes your mouth, which has you doubling over, grabbing onto Al's arm for support as you cover your mouth with your other hand. Just as Seth thought he couldn't adore you anymore, you reveal a laugh like that. He loved how your face glowed with euphoria as you clutched at your sides, trying to regain oxygen in your lungs. Your infectious laughter filled the room, causing Seth to chuckle, unable to resist the joyful atmosphere that surrounded them. The more you snort, the harder y'all laugh.

Once you were able to breathe properly and stand upright, you gave Al a little kiss on the side of his cheek and snatched the TV remote off the coffee table.

"Alright you two, what're we watchin'?" Seth asked, still unable to wipe the grin off his face.

"Nothin' scary, I'm lookin' at you Boo," Al opined, shooting you a side-eye.

"Maybe a comedy?" Seth suggested. The corner of your mouth curled into a smile as you squinted at him.

"You're just trying to get me to snort again, aren't you?" you chirp.

"…maybe"

──────༺♡༻──────

The End <3

#yuurivoice #yuurivoice fandom #yuurivoice stuff #yuurivoice fanfic #fanfic #yuurivoice seth #yuurivoice alphonse #yv fanfic #seth yuurivoice #alphonse yuurivoice #yuurivoice boo #writting #fluff #req #gn reader #sourlemonsprout

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knivestothroats · 1 day ago

Text

Last minute Christmas special for The Professionals

I originally wrote an excuse for why this is going out at like 9pm on christmas but we dont have to explain ourselves. Enjoy. cowritten with @victimeyez as always

Tommy woke up late.

The pale light of day was already filtering through the gray winter sky.

Tommy leapt up and threw some clothes on quickly, hopping as his feet touched the cold wood floor. He dashed to the bathroom and brushed his teeth, running his fingers through his hair the best he could.

Two of the trainees were already up and about, engaged in a heated game of slap jack.

“Hey, uh, sorry, have you guys seen Fletcher?” Tommy asked, flinching as Caldera’s hand hit the table.

“I saw them dragging a carcass out of the forest earlier,” Barlowe said as they flipped a card. “So they’re probably out there on all fours eating it like a wild animal.”

“They’re processing a deer in the shed,” Caldera clarified.

“Okay, thank you.”

Tommy slipped on boots and a coat and ventured outside, the cold air scraping at his face. He pulled open the door to the shed, and was immediately hit with the metallic tang of blood and raw meat.

Fletcher was standing beside the body of a stag that was hanging from its hind legs, stomach torn open, blood dripping onto a tarp beneath. Their coat was smeared red, and there was a knife in their hand. A small speaker was playing music for them to work to, and they had to raise their voice over it.

“What’s up?”

“I just wanted to check in, um…” Tommy pulled his eyes away from the animal. “...About what you wanted me to do today?”

“Isn’t it your day off?”

“Oh, uh…” Tommy had a hard time keeping track of the days here sometimes, but if Fletcher said it was his day off, he wasn’t about to argue. “I suppose it is.”

“Unless you want to help me skin a deer.”

“Um,” Tommy swallowed. “Is it optional?”

“This time, yes,” Fletcher said. “I like to have my alone time with the blood and guts. It’s like meditation.”

The next day, everyone loaded up into the truck.

“You’re riding shotgun, Thunderbird,” Fletcher informed Tommy, clapping a heavy hand on his shoulder.

“Aw, come on,” Williams complained. “So the three of us have to squeeze into the back together?”

“Three people have to squeeze in the back either way,” Fletcher said. “So suck it up.”

Tommy shrank into his designated spot as the trainees piled into the bench seat, their bags stashed in the bed of the truck.

The trees had blocked much of the snow accumulation, and the roads were plowed, so they had no problem getting to the airport. All the trainees were going home for the holidays, meaning Fletcher and Tommy would have the lodge to themselves.

“Alright, I’m not getting out of the car because I don’t want to be on camera,” Fletcher said as they pulled up to the drop off zone. “Have a nice holiday, tell your families and bosses I said hi, don’t get nabbed by airport security.”

Tommy watched through the window as they disappeared inside the building. It was somewhat daunting to be alone with Fletcher while the rest were gone, but it wasn’t like the trainees provided any sort of comfort or safety for him. If anything, it was less people to worry about.

“We’re going out to the rez before we go home,” Fletcher said as they drove away. “I have to offload this deer hide. Maybe one day I’ll teach myself to tan but… ehh. It’s enough effort as is.”

It was a while before Fletcher pulled up outside of a house and put the truck in park. They got out without a word and went around to the back. Tommy fiddled with his seatbelt, but since Fletcher hadn’t told him to come along, he opted to remain.

He watched Fletcher heft a duffle bag over their shoulder and knock on the door. A man with greying braids answered, and Fletcher handed off the bag. He waved Fletcher inside, but Fletcher said something and jutted their chin in the direction of the truck. The man looked at Tommy, gave a wave, and disappeared into his house. He returned a moment later and handed Fletcher a much smaller bag. Fletcher dug around the contents. They pulled out a pair of yellow gloves and felt the material between their fingers.

They said their goodbyes and Fletcher returned to the truck, tossing the bag in the backseat.

It began to snow as they drove home, small flakes dancing down from the sky.

Fletcher opened the door to the lodge and let Tommy inside. They stood outside the threshold and fiddled with their keys for a moment.

“I’m gonna be doing some stuff outside for a bit. So. Behave.”

Before Tommy could ask if they needed help, Fletcher shut the door.

Two days off in a row seemed odd, so Tommy tried to find something to do. There were a few dishes in the sink from breakfast that he washed and put away, before starting to wipe down the counter and clean the stove.

The back door opened and Fletcher walked in, carrying a sapling fir tree in a large pot. They locked eyes with Tommy, paused a moment, and set the pot down before and walking back outside, closing the door behind them.

Fletcher reappeared a couple minutes later through the front door. They kicked off their boots and walked back to retrieve the tree.

“Follow me,” they ordered.

Tommy put down the sponge and quickly wiped off his hands before following Fletcher into the living room. They placed the tree a comfortable distance from the fireplace, then picked up the bag they had gotten earlier. After pulling out the gloves and a spool of sinew, they placed the bag under the tree.

Fletcher gestured to the little setup they had created and said, “Merry Christmas.”

Tommy just stared at them.

“That’s yours,” they nodded to the bag.

“I… I didn’t-”

“Yeah, obviously you didn’t get me anything,” Fletcher cut him off. “I don’t usually do anything for Christmas. I don’t want to make a big deal out of this. It’s just like a nice little thing to do, since it’s just us here together. So open your gift.”

Tommy picked up the bag. Inside was another pair of gloves, made of soft deerskin leather. Beneath that…

Tommy pulled it up slowly. A hoop wrapped in suede with a web of cord stretched across the middle, feathers hanging down from the bottom.

“Don’t worry, you can still sleep in my room sometimes,” Fletcher assured him. “I just thought it’d be nice if you had your own dreamcatcher.”

Tommy held it up to look at it in full. It was beautiful, woven with care. He touched the webbing, feeling the very slight tackiness of real sinew, no cheap plastic or dyed feathers. He stroked them gently, smoothing them into sharp points.

“Fletcher…it’s really beautiful. This is…this is very thoughtful of you.”

“Well, you know,” Fletcher shrugged. “I have a trade worked out where I give him my skins and he gives me some of the stuff he makes and I usually don’t need much, so I just asked for a couple extra things this time. No big deal. Let’s watch a movie or something. I can make hot chocolate.”

Fletcher walked off to busy themself in the kitchen.

Tommy dashed off to his room, his hands a little sweaty. He dug through his sketchbook, flipping through the poorly bound pages until he found what he was looking for.

When he got back, he found them finishing off the hot chocolates.

“I, um - I actually do have a little something for you. I might clean it up a little bit more, but…here.” He held out the page of his sketchbook.

Fletcher wiped a hand on their pants and took it, tilting it to the light. The page was filled with a pencil drawing of the lodge, a slightly stiff Fletcher standing in front.

A genuine smile grew on Fletcher’s face.

“Huh.”

Fletcher plucked a magnet off the fridge and hung up the drawing. They picked the mugs and handed one to Tommy.

“You can pick a movie off the shelf,” they said, giving his hair a ruffle as they walked back into the living room.

Tommy figured that was about the best it was going to get. He looked at his drawing on the fridge, and felt a sense of pride he hadn’t felt in a long time. It wasn’t just cleaning, it wasn’t just being used, it wasn’t pretending to be anything he wasn’t. It was a drawing he did because he wanted to, a drawing no one else would have done quite the same way. Maybe not the greatest, but…it was his. Totally his. And that felt really good.

He offered a few choices he liked to Fletcher, and they settled on a fun action one. The hot chocolate was rich and warm. Tommy held his new dreamcatcher in his lap while they watched, fiddling and petting it. He was excited to have something that was his, as “his” as something could be, here in the lodge. Fletcher gave him a look for it, but didn’t say anything.

When the movie was over, Tommy was still awake, and a little restless. It was getting late, but… maybe it was the holiday, but he felt like there was something he was supposed to do. Some kind of ceremony that would make it all real.

Tommy slowly made some tea, being methodical and slow as if the meditative practice would bring him a sense of closure to the day. As he was pulling out his tea bag, Fletcher found him.

“Wanna see something?”

Tommy did. Probably. He followed Fletcher out the front door and onto the porch, looking out on the grounds. Snow was falling softly, dampening sound for an almost eerily quiet night. It was peaceful, the low light cast from the lodge illuminating enough that they could see out almost to the forest edge.

They watched in companionable silence, and Fletcher even accepted a sip of his tea. Tommy wasn’t sure what he had been hoping for, but this did it. This would do.

“Merry Christmas, Fletcher. Or…you know. Atleast, a nice night.”

“Merry Christmas or at least a nice night to you too, buddy.”

@suspicious-whumping-egg @whumpyourdamnpears @generic-whumperz @lonesome--hunter

@whumplr-reader @theelvishcowgirl @sunshiline-writes @dont-be-gentle-please @galesgallery

@2in1whump @sparrowsage @apokolyps @whumpinggrounds

@morning-star-whump @leviiio @alexmundaythrufriday

@defire @jumpywhumpywriter @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees

@light-me-on-pyre @slightlydisturbedbeans @dislexiher @paperprinxe @desert-dyke

@just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @burtlederp @whatwasmyprevioususername @cursedandtired

@whump-only @misspelledwitch @redstainedsocks @thehopelessopus @im-just-here-for-the-whump

@thatsthewhump @utopian819 @pretty-face-breaker @thesuffererrrr

#the professionals #writings

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millersamour · 4 months ago

Text

different devils (series prologue) - joel miller x f!reader

“We’re all in the same game; just different levels. Dealing with the same hell; just different devils.”

Word Count: 3.2k

Pairing: joel miller x f!reader

Series Summary: You're one of Jackson's longest, and most reclusive inhabitants. You're Tommy's patrol partner. You raised an adopted son. Now spending every day doing what you can to keep the devil at bay. Until Joel Miller shows up, with a fourteen year old, and the same kind of demons.

(collage made on pinterest)

Series Warnings: set during outbreak, violence, descriptions of body mutilation, use of weapons, reader is 21 in prologue but 34 in main story, age gap (joel is 56), eventual smut (will tag accordingly), darkish! joel, reader is also a violent survivalist, reader has a similar joel/ellie dynamic with an oc!, raider/cult subplot, typical disturbing stuff in media about zombies/apocalypse situations

Prologue Summary: After nine years of surviving the apocalypse you meet some people who offer you the chance to start over.

A/N: straight up no joel in this :/ sorry lol, this is just character plot because i love angst and slow burn!!!! we support traumatized morally grey fmcs in this house <3

Prologue

March 2011

You had been tracking a doe for about an hour when you heard the sounds. Deep gurgling and clicking echoing from somewhere you couldn’t see.

Fuck.

The deer seemed like a lost cause if there were any more than a single one of those unforgiving creatures lurking nearby.

With one last glance to the deer, its light brown fur shining in the morning sun, you tucked the bow underneath the thick leather strap of the quiver at your back and made quick work of climbing a thick tree.

You watched the creature below from about twenty feet in the air. The deformed body weaving between the trees, dragging its feet through the wet vegetation. Growths emerging from its skull covered any trace of its former humanity. Bright fungi absorbing the very idea that this thing had ever bore resemblance to a person. The bow in your grasp followed its movements as it veered left, and thankfully, away from your campsite.

Not wasting any arrows today.

With a sigh of relief, which sounded more like a huff of annoyance, you surveyed the area a final time before deciding to make your way back to Leon. You dismounted the tree, landing the last few feet with a thud and took off back into the thicket.

Rope and sticks had been used to hold up what had once been a tarp, now just a small sheet of plastic, to create a makeshift tent. It was completely useless against the cold but it had kept you dry from the torrential downpour that had plagued your travel the last few days. The first signs of spring were always welcome after months of cold and snow, but you couldn’t deny the pang of guilt you felt after surviving another winter.

Leon was awake now, nursing a small fire. He grinned as he watched your form emerge from the treeline. The early morning gave you a respite, where it could just be you and Leon. Not what you had become part of.

“Anything good?” He asked, eyes trailing from your face to glance at your empty hands.

“No” You shook your head. “Damn clicker came outta nowhere and spooked the deer I spent an hour tracking” You huffed, slumping beside him.

Grimacing, he handed you a thermos and you sipped. Warm water flooded your mouth and sternum as it landed in your empty stomach. You hummed, savouring the temporary warmth and handed it back to him. He pulled a small bunch of cloth from his backpack and you grimaced at the only remnants of food you had left.

It had been almost six months since you and Leon had been on your own and almost a full two years since you’d left the QZ.

You had only been twelve on outbreak day. But you could recall those memories like it had been yesterday. Stepping off the school bus, doing homework, and eating dinner with your parents, before heading off to bed. You remembered the soft pink of your bedroom. The quilt at the foot of your bed. The toy rabbit you’d slept with since you were born.

But the sounds of alarms and glass shattering and screams had woken you. 1:02 AM flashing bright green on your alarm clock. You had crept downstairs. The noises outside drowned out by the fear of what would be waiting for you.

Standing at the bottom of the stairs, you saw the pool of blood first. Crimson leaking into the cracks of blue kitchen tiles, staining the grout. You had hesitated before entering, not knowing what you would see once you turned the corner and passed the door frame.

Her hair was splayed on the floor like a halo. Strands matted with blood. Her body, stiff in death, looked like she had been knocked back, like someone had shoved her. Peeking around the corner, you saw a huddled form leaning against the fridge; its white exterior marked with streaks of red, fingerprints smeared across family photos and a drawing you had made for your father’s birthday.

Quietly you had called out.

“Dad?”

The hunched form had looked up at the sound, neck craning in an unnatural way. Strained breathing, like someone was trying to speak with lungs full of water, and growling sounds punched passed his lips. Sounds you had only ever heard in nature documentaries, sounds of pained and hungry animals who relied on teeth and claws and blood to survive.

Suddenly everything was happening to someone else. Like you were watching your life unravel from someone else’s eyes.

It wasn’t you when your dad slowly rose to his full height, his hands and mouth covered in your mother’s blood. It wasn’t you when he lunged forward, hands reaching for your small form. It wasn’t you who ran away, taking the stairs two at a time while he slipped in what was left of your mother; still warm. It wasn’t you who had thrown open your parent’s bedroom door, slamming it behind you. Who had searched in the dark, for salvation, for safety, for something that could keep the monster at bay.

The banging on the door was only getting louder, and you had hoped this was all some kind of nightmare. The kind where you woke up crying and your mother would be there to stroke your hair and sing until you drifted back into a peaceful slumber.

But it was real and you had found the bat that your dad had kept stuffed in the closet.

Your small fingers clenched around the handle and you struggled to keep yourself upright. The image of your mother, her soft skin and dimpled smile flashed against the images of her broken body, of her abdomen peeled open. You could still hear the strangled breathing of the creature outside the door.

No longer your father, only wearing his face.

You pushed your back against the wall, feeling the reverberations through the wall as he slammed his body against wood. It was cracking and wouldn’t hold for long.

It wasn’t you who had watched the door splinter. Who watched him shove his mangled form through. Left shoulder broken. Arm dangling loosely at his side. It wasn’t you who struggled to slow your breathing as his unseeing eyes stared into the darkness, streetlights peeking through the blinds to illuminate his grisly appearance. But it had been you. It had been you who had clenched her jaw, teeth grinding against teeth. Tightening your grip and stepping behind him as he wandered into the center of the room. It was you who heard the floorboard creak and had raised the bat before he even turned around. It was you who had swung and swung and swung. Until what had been your father no longer was.

Just a bloodied heap on the ground.

You had been found a few days later, hiding in your closet. Bat sticky with dried blood, still clenched in your hands. They had taken you, kicking and screaming, to what would become the Phoenix QZ, and your home for the next eight years.

Movement startled you from the memories you pondered often, trying to conjure images of birthday parties and the photographs that lined your childhood home. But, all you were left with was the weight of two corpses and the shame of survival.

Andy came through the tree line. His blonde hair stuck to his forehead and his smile bordered on feral. You had to stand to see what he was holding in his hand.

Rabbits.

“Little early for your ass to be up, isn’t it?” You chuckled, walking over to examine his prize.

“Early bird gets the worm” He grinned, holding the rabbits higher up. “Just taking a page from your book”

He wasn’t wrong. In the last six months, you had been almost solely providing food for the four of you. Feeding Leon had been no problem, it was something you’d been doing for the last five years. But, Andy and his brother, Warren, hadn’t been pulling their weight. And you often had to remind them that they begged for your help and you had offered it to them, if they helped keep Leon alive.

The commotion must have alerted Warren, because the older brother emerged from his own makeshift shelter.

It had been a while since you’d caught anything substantial. Relying mostly on birds, fish, and other small wildlife to feed yourselves. But with spring slowly making its appearance, you knew there would be animals everywhere in the coming weeks.

But rabbits, especially three of them, were enough to excite the four of you. Grinning at each other for the first time in weeks.

Andy and Warren were whopping, hollering expletives in excitement. You moved to grab Andy’s arm, needing to shut them both up. But movement to your left had you throwing yourself out of the way.

The clicker.

Fuck.

You should’ve killed that stupid fucking thing when you had the chance. It was on Andy before you even had the opportunity to scream. It grabbed at his chest, seeking grip wherever it could find, and sank its teeth into the skin of his throat. They fell forwards together, limbs tangling together, wrestling for purchase.

Warren came from behind, the branch in his hands colliding with the side of the monster’s head, sending it flying off of Andy. He slammed the wood into its skull, watching as it twitched and went limp against the wet ground.

Andy lay on the ground, clutching his chest and reaching towards his neck. His eyes locked with yours. Panic stricken, wild. You knew that he was dead. They all were. As soon as one of those things got a decent grip, it was over. But that didn’t mean it was okay. It had been almost nine years, and everyone still fought like hell against the inevitable.

Warren was crouched beside his brother, trying to stop the bleeding. He pulled off his own shirt and you winced, seeing the scars that littered his back. The same ones on both Leon and yourself.

With a hand on your bow, you pulled an arrow from your back and gently nudged Warren’s foot with your own before taking a step back.

“Warren” You warned, your voice low.

He jolted, eyes leaving his brother to meet yours, glancing between your face and the weapon in your hands. His hands pushing wet, bloody fabric into his brother’s wounds.

“I..I can’t… what?”

“We have to do it and leave” You glanced over your shoulder at Leon, who had stepped further back, watching with a frantic gaze. “We can’t stay here. Warren, none of this is fucking easy, but Andy’s gone.”

The older man, only twenty-three himself, looked back towards his brother. Andy’s breathing was shallow, ragged. He had already lost so much blood.

It never took long.

Warren’s body shook as he sobbed, as he understood what you meant. You had to put Andy down, and you had to do it quickly. But his shoulders slumped and he shook his head.

“Warren..” You warned again. “You need to step away from him..”

He huffed, breathy and wet, and crawled away from the fading remnant of his younger brother. You didn’t have to look to know that Leon was gone, probably behind a tree, hands over his ears. It was the plan. When shit hits the fan, get low and stay low. Until you call it clear.

You sighed, stringing the bow. You aimed, closed your eyes, released a quiet breath and let go.

Andy lay limp on the ground and you hoped that wherever he ended up, it was better than this.

Shaking your head, you whistled your signal to Leon and set your bow against a stump. The teenager came peeking out and your heart clenched at the tear tracks carving through the dirt on his face.

“Look out!” He screamed suddenly, eyes flicking behind you.

Before you could even register, the side of your body made contact with the ground. Looking up you saw Warren, huffing, eyes red rimmed. He held the branch again. You threw up your arms, ready to deflect the fatal blow, but it never came.

The deep cut of a shotgun rang out through the air. And you caught the way Warren’s eyes widened and then rolled to the back of his head before he slumped to the ground beside you. Scrambling, you sprang to your feet and launched yourself towards Leon.

“Easy there little lady” an unknown voice spoke up, shotgun in hand. “I’m not gonna hurt’cha, I just need you to put your hands up”

The sound stopped you in your tracks. You could see Leon with his arms already in the air.

Another rule: do everything you can to not get shot. Smart kid.

You twirled back towards the man with a smirk.

“You just killed my buddy there, not sure if I should trust you”

The man with the gun tilted his head slightly, confused, but kept his gun trained on your form. He was older, probably mid fifties, with dark skin and dark hair that was peppered with greys.

“He was going to kill you” It came out unsure. He was right, but why?

“Occupational hazard?” You quipped back.

He sighed and looked over his shoulder. Fuck. You were hoping you could distract him long enough to either get the gun, or at least to get Leon out of here. But if anyone else showed up, you were screwed.

“Maria!” He called out. “Over here!”

A woman came from behind him, presumably Maria. Her eyes widened at the sight. The clicker, Andy and Warren, Leon and yourself. You were almost twenty-one, but the hunger made you look closer to Leon’s age, only fourteen himself.

Maria tapped the man on the shoulder and jerked her head, needing to speak to him. He nodded and refocused his gaze on you.

“Don’t. Fucking. Move.” He grunted.

You nodded, looking back at Leon and offering a small smile. They didn’t seem like raiders, or slavers. They looked clean and well fed. They didn’t look FEDRA either, but you weren’t about to test the limits of their mercy. Either way, they would either kill you or they wouldn’t. For Leon’s sake, you hoped whatever happened, if it came to it, it would be quick.

They spoke a few feet away, glancing back towards the two of you every couple seconds. The man struggled to force his gaze away, turning back to the woman and grimacing at the words coming out of her mouth.

“Maria-” He went to grab her arm but she slinked away and came to stand before you.

She offered her hand. You hesitantly accepted, coating her fingers in dirt and blood. She barely spared it a glance before rubbing it into the denim of her thigh.

She smiled gently. “I’m Maria, that’s Elton” She said, motioning to the larger man behind her. She seemed tough. You felt more comfortable under her gaze, more than anyone who had looked at you in the last two years.

You offered your name and turned towards the younger boy. “That’s Leon” You motioned for him to come over.

He took a few hesitant steps before lacing his fingers through yours and reaching his other hand towards Maria. She took his hand, shaking it. Anyone else could have missed it, but a flicker of something, maybe longing, passed over her face when she locked eyes with Leon.

“Are you related?” Came from Elton.

Leon’s hair was lighter than yours and his features were still coated in a thin layer of baby fat. So, most people believed that he was your brother, half at least, and you never corrected them. But, something in Maria’s eyes and the way she watched you, made you want to be honest. You shook your head.

“Known him since he was eight, been taking care of him ever since” You didn’t often talk about Leon’s biological family. They were FEDRA officials, but when rations started dwindling a few years after the outbreak, they didn’t hesitate to drop the youngest of their children off on the steps of the QZ’s orphanage. Where you had been for the last three years.

“How old are you?” Maria asked, glancing between the two of you.

“I’m fourteen” Leon blurted, looking up at you with wide eyes. You squeezed his hand twice. A signal you had first used in the orphanage, after you’d been beaten for stealing or for lying. Leon would sit beside you and read, occasionally squeezing your hand. You’d squeeze back twice if you wanted him to keep reading, three times if something was wrong.

“I’m twenty-one” You speak, not meeting Maria’s eyes.

“What are you doing out here?” Elton’s voice came over Maria’s shoulders again, kinder. You realized that the two of them had to be related. Father and daughter maybe?

“It’s a really long story” You try, unsure of how to explain the last decade of your lives.

“Give us the short version” Maria tries, placing her hand on your shoulder.

“We..um..we escaped raiders before the winter…” You fumble. Yes you had been with raiders, not exactly prisoners, but these two didn’t need to know that. Not yet. Maria’s eyes softened and she looked back at Elton, who’s face betrayed him at that moment. You could tell he was confused. Not many people survived the winter the way you had done.

“You’ve been living out here?” He asked, glancing between the makeshift shelters and your bow, the only real weapon you had.

You nodded. “Here and there, I tried not to stay in one place too long…”

They both nodded, movement was essential. Unless you had the means to defend yourself and your camp, it was better to stay out of the way. You’d learned that when the Phoenix QZ tore itself down.

“Where are you from?” The question came from Leon. You know that he noticed their clothing, their guns, the way they seemed sated and well-fed. Leon always noticed details, things that a lot of other kids deemed unnecessary.

“We come from a community”

“A QZ?”

Elton laughed at that. “Jackson’s not like a QZ. Sure we got walls and jobs, but ain’t nothin like one of those prisons”

“Jackson?” It was your turn to ask a question.

Maria nodded. “We’re a community that helps each other out and keeps each other alive. As long as you earn your keep and stay out of trouble. You could come back with us.”

“And we should trust you? Why?” You had reason to be defensive, to be unsure of what these strangers were promising.

“You’ll just have to find out.” Maria smiled, looking back towards Elton.

For the first time in a while, you felt something like hope. That you had survived the last year for a reason. That Leon could finally have a real home.

“Take us there”

You felt Leon’s grip tighten. You squeezed back twice.

Thanks for reading!! Please like/reblog if you enjoyed <3

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel x reader #joel tlou #joel miller tlou #fanfiction #joel miller everyday #i love that old man‼️

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buytarpaulinuk · 2 years ago

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x-reader-theater · 1 year ago

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Help

summary: Ghost knocks on your door at 3 am asking for help with something.

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Gender Neutral!Reader

word count: 1420 (nice)

warnings: mentions of anti-suicide chairs but nothing explicit is talked about.

a/n: i started this last night and finished it today while my head was hurting both times so sorry if this sucks. my requests are open and you can find my request rules here.

The clock turns over to 3 am, and you’re finally getting ready for bed when you hear a knock at your door. Now, if you were any other soldier, 3 am would be a terrible wakeup call, with only 3 hours left of sleep and probably having been in the middle of their REM cycle. But your insomnia just wanted to be different.

You get about three hours of sleep a night, four if you’re lucky, but tonight seems to be an unlucky, two hours of sleep at most for you. It’s fine, maybe some extra aches and pains in the morning or nausea that you can't get rid of, but you’ve been living your whole life like this. You’ve got used to it.

The knock sounds again on the door, and you shout out, “Yeah, yeah, I’m comin’, I’m comin’.” You throw open the door and, standing in front of you, is Ghost, just his simple skull balaclava on, hands behind his back. “Oh! Ghost! What can I do you for?” you quip with an inviting smile.

“I need your help,” he says, series, causing your smile to drop for a moment. It’s only a moment though, as when he pulls his hands from behind his back, your smile returns, though this time it's a relieved smile.

He's holding a set of clippers in one hand, and a set of hair cutting scissors in the other.

You open the door wider in a silent invitation to come in. While Ghost sets the clippers and scissors on your dresser, you walk to the closet and pull out the tarp you stole from one of the many storehouses on base. No one made any mention of it being gone, so they either didn't notice, or Ghost may have pulled some strings.

You hear Ghost taking off his mask on the other side of the room and keep your head tilted down as you lay the tarp on the once light grey, short carpeted floor of your room. You grab the desk chair that rocks back and forth when you set it on the tarp. An anti-suicide chair that probably doesn’t work very well.

When you look back up at Ghost, you’re expecting him to have a black paper mask over his mouth and nose like he always does. But his face is bare.

Your eyes glance over his scarred face, tracing the scar that you knew ran from his eyebrow down to his chin, but now you can see the whole thing unobstructed. It bisects his lips, creating a permanent frown on one side of his face. His nose is crooked from being broken over and over again, and there’s what looks like a burn wound in his cheek, like he was poked with a hot poker.

When your eyes meet his deep brown ones, you can see genuine fear reflected back at you. You smile at him, and watch as a light blush blossoms on his face.

“Have a seat,” you say, breaking eye contact to collect the shears.

When Ghost sits down, you walk behind him, running your hands through his hair, scratching at his scalp with your nails. His eyes close slowly, and you smile as he relaxes into the chair.

The sound of the clippers fills the room as you cut his hair exactly how he likes it. It hasn't been that long since his last cut, but you know he hates the feeling of too much hair underneath his mask.

You shear down the sides and back and switch off the clippers, setting them aside before taking the scissors to the top of Ghost’s head.

His hair is blonde and curly, and when cut too short makes him look like a Roman in one of those movies, or like Cupid. You like to keep the top just a little longer to combat that, even if Ghost doesn’t get it.

“Where did you learn to cut hair?” Ghost asks quietly, and your heart pounds as you hear his voice unobstructed by a mask for the first time ever.

Ghost asks you this question every time you cut his hair. You think it’s because he thinks other people don’t like silence like he does. You don't mind. You’d do anything to make him comfortable.

“My mother was a hairdresser. She would bring me to work when I didn’t have school,” you say, continue to shape Ghost’s hair. “She would teach me how to cut hair as she worked on clients. She didn't make enough money to support herself as she got older, and it got harder for her to take on more clients.” You tilt Simon’s head back, so he’s looking into your eyes. “It’s why I joined the military. Any money I make goes directly to her.”

Ghost closes his eyes, and you continue to work, but they open again when you pause, just looking into Simon’s face. Your free hand is carding through his hair, nails scratching at his scalp. Your eyes are looking at his soft looking lips, and he bites his bottom lip for a moment before releasing it. You let out a small gasp as he does so, hand tightening in his hair ever so slightly.

The flush darkens on the apples of his cheeks, and you feel yourself leaning down slowly. Your head is pounding, and your heart is stuttering in time with your breathing. You’re moving slowly, giving Ghost time to move or push you away, but he doesn’t. He continues to stare up at you as you lean over.

Your eyes slip shut, and your lips meet his. His lips are just as soft as you thought they would be, and they part slightly in a gasp. After a moment, you pull away.

“I’m sorry,” you say, feeling your face heat up.

Ghost’s eyes flutter open, and he reaches up, grabbing at your wrist that’s connected to the hand still in his hair. You let go of his blond locks, and he pulls your hand down to his face and kisses the inside of your wrist. “It’s okay,” he says with a small smile, and your heart thuds in your chest at seeing Ghost smile for the first time.

You feel your face turn even hotter, and you just stare at him, wide-eyed. When he finally lets go of your wrist, you place it back in his hair again, coming through it as you cut it once more.

You can't keep the smile off your face as you shape the rest of his hair.

Finally, you put the scissors down next to the clippers and run both your hands through his hair, shaking it out to get as much cut hair out of it as possible. When you think it’s good enough, you take a step back.

“Do you want to look at it?” you ask, knowing what he's going to say anyway. It’s part of the routine.

“No, thank you,” he says, like always.

You nod and smile, waiting for him to stand up and get off the tarp to let you clean up. While he puts on his mask again and grabs his clippers and scissors, you move your chair back to its desk and fold up the tarp, so none of the hair gets out, before carting it into the bathroom to throw out the hair.

When you’re finally done with that, you walk back out into your room, and startle when you see Ghost is still standing there, waiting. You fold up the tarp and place it in your closet before walking over to him.

He’s wearing his mask once more, but the bottom is pulled up to his nose, exposing his mouth.

“Do you need anything else?” You ask. This is routine. Then again, neither was the kiss.

He shakes his head. “Just wanted to say goodnight.”

“Oh!” you exclaim. “Good-”

He cuts you off, leaning in and kissing you again. This time, he kisses back, placing a hand on the nape of your neck as you grab at the T-shirt that’s right across his shoulders. You lean into the kiss, trying to press your body to his, but eventually you need to swim up for air.

You pull away, panting, and your eyes flutter open as Ghost says, “Goodnight,” before kissing you quickly one last time and turning on his heel, walking out your door.

The door closes, and you stand there, watching it, and bring your fingers up to your lips, trying to

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vanossfan10 · 11 months ago

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RWBY: Jaune Arc Mandalorian AU: Jaune’s Starfighter

**During the last Two Years at Beacon, Jaune and his friends all got along he managed to have a very loving relationship with Yang and the two Teams became power houses after their first year, but on one night they played Truth or Dare Jaune Revealed in a Truth he has a Starfighter to help him go earn some cash from bounties in space given to him by his Bounty Hunter Mentor; Boba Fett.**

(Night of the ToD game night)

Ruby: BULLSHIT! I call BULL!! SHIT!!

Yang: Ruby! Language! I’m sure Jaune is just joking

Jaune: who said I was?

Yang:…huh?!….

Teams RWBY & (J)NPR: ………EEEEHHHH!?!?!……

They all yelled in shock and saw that he wasn’t joking at all.

**The very next morning he took Team RWBY and his own team down to Ozpin private landing bay for Beacon where bullhead ships were kept, they all soon saw a ship that was covered in a large grey tarp and once they walked over to it Jaune grabbed the tarp and revealed his Starfighter.**

Ruby:…oh wow…(eyes shine and she begins to drool)…

Weiss: mhm this is quite a spectacle~

Blake: I mean I’ve read these in science fiction books but never thought I’d see one in person

Yang: that’s fucking hot babe~💕

Pyrrha: Jaune you always continue to surprise us

Nora: I WANNA RIDE IT! I WANNA RIDE IT! I WANNA RIDE IT! AND I WANNA BLOW STUFF UP WITH IT!!!

Ren: Nora No! (He said trying to hold her back)

Nora: NORA YES!!

Jaune: I’ll think about it Nora, anyway this is my Eta-2 Actis-class light interceptor, years ago it was originally made for a old warrior race of people known as Jedi but they all went extinct and are only a few left in the Galaxy, as from what my mentor told me when he got this for me

Blake: your mentor got you this?

Jaune: yeah it was a gift after I completed my training, but despite it all I wear his family crest on it to show my thanks to him and to honor my mentor

**Suddenly Weiss interrupted**

Weiss: if that’s so, what’s this art piece supposed to indicate mhm~

**she said in a teasing tone as they all looked at the side of Jaune’s Starfighter wing and saw a pin up spray paint art piece of Yang**

youtube

**everyone looked at the pin up with blushes, some covered their mouths and some looked at Jaune with a cheeky smirk, but Yang mostly was looking at it in embarrassment but also a little bit happy on the inside seeing Jaune still thinking of her when he’s away**

Yang: J-Jaune WHAT THE HELL IS THIS!?!

Jaune: now Yang come on I can explain

Nora: so fearless leader got a sexy mascot to show off to the galaxy huh

Jaune: NORA!

Pyrrha: my goodness Jaune I didn’t think you’d do that and by yangs reaction you didn’t even get her permission, how deviant of you

Jaune: Pyrrha it’s not what y-

Yang: how could you Jaune! (She said blushing harder)

Jaune: Yang please it is just a pi

Yang: how could you get my Signature Wrong!!

RWB(Y) & JNPR:…….Huh???

**they all said in confusion**

Yang: if you wanted me to be your pin up you should have had me sign it!

Jaune:…..umm…ok I’m sorry?….I guess?

Yang: good but I’ll forgive you under one condition

Jaune: what?

Yang: if you take me for a ride in it first before everyone else

**she said tapping her fingers together and making a pouty face along while doing it**

Jaune: (Giggles) sure thing babe

**he said as he pulls her in for a kiss and her soon accepted his apology from the kiss and his promise**

Nora: can I blow up a Cabbage Stand with it now!

Ren: why a Cabbage Stand?!

Blake: you really wanna ask her that question Ren?

Nora: Well my beautiful Ren Ren, it’s because in every universe there is a Cabbage man who yells “No! My Cabbages!!” It’s a universal thing Ren Ren~💕

Ren: What?

Nora: I WANNA BLOW SHIT UP!!

Ruby: ME TOO!! I WANNA BLOW SHIT UP!!

Ren: NORA NO!!!

Yang: RUBY LANGUAGE!!

Fin

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hiskillingjar · 3 months ago

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‘Cages' (Lawrence)

day 5: cages first person, lawrence’s pov. character study, but cw for dead animals

The first step to creating truly great art is gathering your materials.

Okay, maybe that’s not the first step. The first step is probably having the idea or, at the very least, knowing what you want to say.

What do I want to say? Do I want to say anything at all?

Materials always felt like the logical first step for me. How was I going to know what I wanted to say when I didn’t know how I was going to say it?

Normally, when I found the bones that I thought would look good in an art piece, draped on a canvas and fused together with wire, expanding foam, and sticky cement (hardware store art supplies), they were still inside the animal that owned them.

Gathering was the easy part.

All it took was finding the right snack (leafy greens for rabbits, spinach or salad mixes, and raw meat for foxes and the occasional dog or cat) and setting up a halfway decent trap, and they were yours.

It was harder to prep the bones, though.

If a specimen (that's what my resource blogs liked to call them, not animals, not living beings, but the abject specimen) has lots of soft tissue remaining (which they usually did, I rarely found an animal without it), there are a few ways to remove it.

The first method is by soaking the bones in water for several weeks (or months, if the animal was especially big, like a deer or a lost family labrador named ‘Skippy’).

Over time, the water, microbes and the tiny bacteria locked inside will eat away at the tissue and cause the body to melt down.

This is a very effective, if time-consuming way of removing tissue without damaging the bones, and it was how I prepped all of my materials.

I stored them in tall, plastic cages, barrels with screw-on lids (another art supply provided by the hardware store for ten bucks a piece) that most people would walk past when they saw them in the forest.

That’s where I was tonight.

In the forest, after clocking off my shift at two in the morning, covering for that douchebag who never showed up on time and always found a reason to leave early.

Night had fallen hours and hours ago, plunging the world into darkness, but that was fine.

I felt safe in the dark.

Safe from the rest of the world seeing me for what I really was when I took off the mask and revealed myself, completely

I was unscrewing the top of one of my cages to fish out a rabbit I had caught three weeks ago.

My cock was hard in my sweatpants, but that wasn’t because of the rabbit.

I wasn’t so removed from reality that I was turned on by dead animals. I don’t think even the most demented of serial killers and quasi-autistics could be turned on by that.

The rabbit was almost finished, brown bones glistening with wetness. There was just a little mangled flesh left, pink and grey skin oozing between crevices, holes in the skull, and gaps in the tiny ribcage.

One cage could house up to three animals at a time, sometimes even four if I really shoved them in there, and didn’t worry about the small space being cramped.

It was a nice idea.

All that flesh melting off bones and clumping together in the water, in an entanglement of skin, muscle, sinew, hair, and becoming one.

I often wished my cages were real cages, not plastic but metal and hollow, so I could peer inside and watch every step of the process for myself.

My body ached just thinking about it and I could feel my cock twitch as I clutched the rabbit tighter, nails digging into bone and flesh.

That diabolical togetherness.

I might not have left the forest, if that was possible.

I would have just slept on plastic tarps, my eyes fixed on my cages so I could always be surrounded by bodies merging and melting together.

Maybe part of me wanted the same for myself. Maybe that was the reason I got turned on, sometimes, when I fished out my materials.

To be locked inside one of my cages with another body, roughly the same size and shape as mine, and to melt down and clump together in an inseparable unity.

No longer two bodies, but one.

I've never wanted anyone, not in the traditional sense, but I wanted that, or any close approximation of that.

For someone to see me, without my mask, and to want me badly enough for us to be fused together, inseparable, two halves of a whole again.

Maybe that was what I wanted to say, with all of my art pieces, all along.

Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it was all just retarded drivel, coming from someone half mad from their own loneliness, that they were seeking humanity in barrels of dead animals.

I'm not making any sense.

It wasn't often that I did, though.

All I really knew was that it was a dark night.

And I was using the dripping flesh of a dead rabbit to lube my fist as I masturbated.

Maybe the flesh-eating bacteria would cling on me, and devour me too.

#lawrence oleander #lawrence btd #headcanons #kinktober 2024 #i watched the substance yesterday. in case it's not glaringly obvious

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infernalodie · 2 years ago

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Tara Carpenter X Male!Reader

So I had an idea. Basically R and Tara are dating and R has 2 personality's, one personality is the sweet caring and gentle boyfriend/brother/son/Friend. The other personality is the dark, twisted and psychotic man that no one knows about, not even himself( maybe one of his personalities is one of the past killers). Well he sort of has an idea that the killer is him, he realises something is wrong when he hears about a single killer walking around in a mask murdering people- when one day he wakes up with blood covering him.

He goes to the party with Tara, everyone's there. Halfway through he disappears and Tara notices, ghost face pops out and no one knows it's R having an episode. Everyone gangs up on ghost face and they are shocked to see R. But after saying his name, he doesn't respond, and says his name is (whoever you want). They knock him out because they realise something's wrong but they don't take him to the police they tie him up in the basement and sit around waiting for him to wake up. When he does it's R again but he keeps slipping between personalities, R is crying but the other personality is finding joy in the situation- R keeps apologising and the all try and calm him down. R slowly starts to understand what's going on and is just sobbing/begging for help. You can decide how it ends.

𝐒𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐞 || 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫

"𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦? 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘓𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯"

Inspo: XXXTENTACION - Save Me NF - DRIFTING

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Male!reader

Summary: A constant plea for a savour in a world as dark as you saw it...

Warnings: Split personality disorder, murder, angst, character death, and heavily described suicide.

Words: 3453

DNI IF YOU'RE YOUNGER THAN 18!

One breath.

It was sharp. Abrupt. Sudden. It made you shoot up and stumble back where your body met a door. Eyes flickering all around you and only finding the oddity of your surroundings being unfamiliar to you. The blue ceramic tiled walls, the rotting sink top, the cracked glass, and the toilet that was foul to your nose.

The longer you took in your surroundings, the more you became apparent of the blackout of memory you’d experienced. And the more you looked, the more fucked up you became by your set of circumstances.

Your eyes looked into the cracked reflection of yourself and found a crimson figure. It was you, covered in blood. Finally looking down at yourself, you choked on your breath. Blood covered you from the top of your head to the bottom of your shoes. The only saving grace was the leather gloves snuggly slipped over your hands. Your grey shirt was stained, denim jeans were splashed and smeared with the blood of someone or something that didn’t belong to you.

“On tonight’s breaking news, landowners, Marie Goldwin and her wife, Kassidy Limberg, were found murdered in their front yard tonight.” That announcement that came from the TV outside of the bathroom made you freeze. “So far, police haven’t been able to give a statement to the community.”

Opening the door, you stepped out into what seemed to be a motel at first glance. It was like every small, run-down motel that no one would go to. But the further you looked across the room, the more you quickly saw the large white tarp that was stapled to the walls and floor, and the thick plastic wrap covering the bed. Then you were able to spot the splash of blood that stuck out like a sore thumb.

“The police have set a curfew for the town until they can figure out what has happened and where to take the next step,” the news anchor added. “So, please, everyone, stay safe.”

“Ahhh, what the fuck?” You muttered, eye twitching as you quickly ran to the front door and locked it. Backing away as you run your hands through your hair. “I was in my car. I was driving to Tara’s and then I…” The ramblings falling from your lips faded as you looked back at the TV and shook your head. “No, I couldn’t have…”

It was dark out, so you might’ve just gotten here. In some weird faded memory that you had no knowledge of, maybe you went out of your way and murdered those two women. Maybe you had something to drink or took something that didn’t kick in until then. What fucking happened between 7 PM to now?

You took the time to have a shower and wash off every droplet of blood from your skin. The drain swept the crimson away and into the pipes that would hide away the first step of your contribution to a murder. But you wouldn’t accept this because you weren’t capable of this. This wasn’t you and everyone would know that. Yet, you couldn’t take any chances. You’ve watched YOU, and you know the steps that need to be taken. So, thank god there were cleaning chemicals under the sink and your vehicle parked out front.

So, doing what you could, you carefully folded up the tarp, placing your shirt in the center before quickly rushing it out and placing it in the bed of your truck. Hiding it behind the toolbox and spare tire before going back inside and taking bleach to everything. There was no way to be sure what you could’ve touched before you came to, so you took it to the carpet, bathroom, tv, the remote, door handles- everything! You couldn’t be too safe.

And it hurt you in a way to be doing this. The fact that you just wanted to run, but were covering your tracks. You felt more like the perpetrator than the innocent. So, in a way, you were helping in a murder that you didn’t commit. Unless you did, but you couldn’t have. Never in your life did you ever want to hurt someone in the way that those two landowners suffered. It must be a frame job and be placed on you, someone who was trying to get through school and love his girlfriend wholeheartedly.

Yet, here you were, rushing out of the motel with the room keys tight in your grasp as you slid into the driver's seat. Starting up the vehicle just as your eyes were drawn to four garbage bags in the passenger seat. Your jaw clenched, swallowing the lump in your throat as you hesitantly pulled the hem back to be greeted by two lifeless eyes and the foul stench of blood and rotting flesh. You gagged, pushing your truck door open and vomiting.

You could already tell this would be a long night.

“You okay?”

You lift your gaze from the streets that were slowly becoming the same the longer you drove. They flicker to Tara who sat in the passenger seat of your car, accommodating you to the party Amber was hosting.

“Yeah,” you dismiss forcefully.

Tara purses her lips, looking down at her hands. Dragging her nails gently across the back of her hand. “Are you sure?” She prods further, seeing if there is an opening that she might be able to expose.

“If you want to say something Tara, then do it,” you say softly as possible.

She lets out an exhale flow through her nose, shaking her head. “You just have seemed… off,” she mutters. “Is it anything you want to talk about?”

It took almost all your willpower to not make it apparent that there was something very clearly bothering you. Ever since the death of the landowners and you waking up in that Motel, things in Woodsboro had been growing tenser and unpredictable. Killings were now happening every few weeks and the bodies were continuing to add up to a small hill. Police were doing patrols around town and there were rumours of FBI agents starting to catch word of the massacre going on in the small town.

So, to say you were bothered would be an understatement. And with how frequent these blackouts had started becoming, you were beginning to suspect the worse of yourself.

“Nothing that you need to worry about.” You smiled, reaching over and grasping one of her hands, squeezing tenderly. It gave you the chance to see Tara smile, seemingly dropping the conversation and allowing her to soak up the warmth of your calloused hand.

The party was going strong by the time you and Tara arrived. Each step out away from the safety of your vehicle made the sound of music and the flashing lights of the windows grow brighter. And when you stepped inside, you instantly regretted leaving your house.

A harsh wave of heat hit your face. Music blasting at full max blinds your senses and the flashing lights discombobulate your vision. You couldn’t help yourself when you harshly rubbed your eyes, hoping that the dark lighting and sudden flashes would be something you became adjusted to.

Tara’s hand met your forearm, shaking you from the daze of the party you didn’t even want to attend. Her lips barely grazed the shell of your ear as she asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, smiling. Pulling the back hem of your pants and sighing as you leaned down to her ear. “I just need the bathroom really quick.”

She nodded, pressing a kiss to your cheek, her touch lingering for a moment before she parted from your side when seeing Chad and Amber. You exhaled heavily, forcing yourself up the steps and toward the upstairs bathroom. Feeling that all too familiar flicker of your vision deviating. The strength in your body is slowly being extracted just as you reach the top of the stairs. And once you reach that bathroom door, stumbling inside with the darkness being your only friend, you were consumed by it.

“Has Y/n seemed…off to you?” Tara asked aloud to the group, who were all gathered around the table. Each holding a drink in their hands with their face seeming to share the same unbeknownst look that Tara couldn’t relate to. “He hasn’t been himself for months. Texts have been less and calls are as frequent as they were.”

“Maybe he is messing around with a new chick.” Chad’s drunken comment earned a firm slap upside the head from his sister. Mindy sent him a look that made him purse his lips, exhaling heavily. “I mean, nothing has seemed out of the ordinary for me, at least. Still shows up to school. Still works at the music store. What is it that you think is wrong with him?”

“Well, for starters. He said he would be back after going to the bathroom, but that’s been an hour ago.” Her words were sharp and pierced each of them with realization.

None of them had been aware that it had been that long. Maybe they’d been so caught up in talking and ushering all the kids out of the house, and cleaning that they forgot you had even been here. But Tara trusted in you saying you were fine. Then again, maybe you just needed to head home and rest.

“Are you sure he didn’t text you telling you he was heading home or anything?” Amber inquired, seeming uninterested in her friend's relationship troubles.

“Or maybe he’s still in the bathroom?” Liv said with a scowl, shrugging.

But then there was a painful grinding of metal against metal. The screech made the others cringe as they looked in the direction of where the sound came from. And within the shadows they found a lingering dark figure. Yet, they all could see the glint of light bouncing off of a blade.

And before anyone could get a word out, the figure came running at them, revealing Ghost face. They went charging at Chad, sending him flying into the counter. A yell fell from the boy’s lips, quickly grabbing the killer's wrists as they tried to plunge the knife into him.

The others were quick to grab weapons and hit the killer. It was enough to knock the killer to the ground with a groan after Amber hit them over the head with a chair. Knocking the mask and making everyone freeze in their steps.

“Y/n?” Liv muttered, brows scrunching together in confusion.

But instead of guilt or fear, you smiled. “Name’s Samael, sweetheart.”

Chad took it upon himself to kick you in the face, knocking you out. Silence fell over the room, everyone staring at your unconscious body. Tara wanted to scramble over and hold you. Question where you had been and if this was some sick type of joke. But the unsettling feeling that had been in her stomach for months was apparent. And this might be the cause of it.

“We can’t keep him here or take him home,” Tara explained. “Check his car keys. He keeps a key to the music store. Maybe he take him there.”

Mindy quickly reached into your pockets and pulled out your keys. Everyone quickly made a way to grab you and get you to someone's vehicle. But the entire time Tara tried to figure out what was going on with you. Why did you say your name was Samael? Why were you killing people? How long had you been doing this until you stopped caring?

“Oh, what the fuck is this?” Chad muttered, staring at the cage that was built in the center of the basement. Lights above giving

“What does it matter? We have to get him in there before he wakes up,” Mindy told her brother, helping Amber and Liv carry your unconscious body down the steps and toward the cage. Finding a key stuck in the lock, they pulled the door open and placed your body inside. Ushering out before locking it behind them.

Tara ran her hands through her hair. “Ok, what do we do now?” She asked frantically. “Do we call the police? Do we wait until he wakes up?”

“What the fuck do you mean, Tara?” Amber exclaimed. “The better question; what the fuck is wrong with Y/n and building some Saw level cage in the basement of the music store? And is he the killer?”

“There’s no doubt about it,” Chad commented, glancing at the others. “I mean, he was wearing the Ghost face outfit, Tara. He tried to kill me! The blood on the fucking ground! And he called himself “Samael”? We have no choice but to call the police-”

Hearing the sound of groan sound through the basement made them all spin toward the cage. You stirred, running a hand over your face, hissing with your head shooting up abruptly. “Fuck. My head…”

As your eyes flickered open, you caught sight of your friends. Fear spilled from the brims of their eyes. It caused you to slowly sit up and finally take in the surroundings. A cage. Something so familiar and identical to YOU. “What the fuck?” Shooting up to your feet, you looked around before your eyes found Tara. “Baby, what the fuck is going on?”

“Shut the fuck up, man!” Chad exclaimed. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Is this some sort of joke? Were you really trying to kill me back there?”

But hearing your friend's questions made you frown. Unable to remember what had led you to be locked in a cage. Then there was the feeling back from when you hid that body. The knowledge that something else stirred inside of you that you had no way of knowing if it was real or not.

“I’m scared, guys,” you admitted, walking toward the glass. Tears beginning to bubble over the brims of your eyes. “I don’t know what I did. Guys, I don’t know what is wrong with me. Did I hurt anyone?”

“Why did you kill them, Y/n?” Tara wept, sitting on her knees. Your warm eyes were spilling over with tears of your own as you shook your head. But just like before, you tensed up, eyes rolling back with your head rolling back slightly with Samael coming to the surface.

“I don’t thrive on the killing, Tara,” he said, a gentle hum in his throat, rising from the spot Y/n had found in front of the glass. Beginning to pace back in forth where the others watched from behind Tara. All of them were disturbed by this new discovery of what sat beneath your smiles and soft words. “I fucking live for it. I mean, the first time I killed, it was wrong. I know that. But, fuck, did it feel fucking amazing to shut that stupid bitch up.”

Seeing Tara physically shiver in either fear or disgust satisfied Samael. It buoyed him. Allowed him to feel some sort of power in this situation when he and you were both at risk of what these teenagers might be willing to keep Woodsboro safe.

Tara pursed her lips, nose twitching as she bowed her head, eyes flickering shut. “Samael, can you please let me talk to Y/n?”

“Oh, but this is a question for me, isn’t it?” He asked, lips quirking into a grin. “Y/n isn’t capable of killing. We both know that.” He pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, shaking his head with a laugh. “But he’s becoming desensitized by it, Tara. It’s only a matter of time before he and I become one.”

“Just leave him be, Sam!” Tara pleaded. “He doesn’t deserve the shit you’re putting him through. You’re just a fucking infection that’s going to get him killed.”

Samael pouts mockingly, crouching in front of the glass opposite Tara. “And here I thought that after everything Y/n’s done to stay with you, you would love the both of us the same,” he said, hands resting against the glass as he draws his face closer toward the divider.” I mean, that little shit helped me hide a body that I cut up into tiny bits just so he could make it to your place on time. Hell, maybe we could be a fucked up murdering trio with due time.”

Tara shook her head in denial. “He’s not going to end up like you,” she spat. “We’re going to block you out somehow. I won’t allow him to be a monster like you.”

Again, that familiar tenseness in your body appeared. The once stoic, boisterous nature that Sameal held disappeared with your trembling. “Samael, just please.” You leaned back on your knees, staring up at the ceiling of the cage. “Stop. I can’t do this.”

“Y/n, it’s my time!” Samael yelled, rising to the surface. “You’ve had your chance at the wheel. I let you deliver what you could, but it wasn’t enough. You had a great ride, but it’s my turn to give the people of Woodsboro something to remember.”

“This is my life-!”

Your words and presence were ripped away once again with Samael unable to contain the mocking laugh that fell from his lips. “Oh, my God! Do you even hear yourself, man?” He questioned. “For 18 years, you have been dragging your feet telling everyone that you’ll be fine. Promising progress, but where is it at now, Y/n? Where are the wonders of the Adderall pills you had been promised? Because all they’ve shown is that I’ve become more involved since!”

Beneath the surface, you were trembling, fighting and hoping to reach some sort of precipice that might enlighten you of a way to stave off Samael. But the longer you sat in this dark void, oblivious to what is happening beyond through the windows that Samael continued to take claim of, you realized how far hope really was. It was intangible.

So, as the needles of revelation stabbed into your veins, injecting the gravity of the situation, you pushed yourself to the surface. The ringing in your ears, the adrenaline, clouded everything outside of your thoughts. Blocking out the voices that might pull you toward a hopeless state.

And Tara watched as you scrambled toward the small box that Samael used for his victims. A one-way compartment that you guessed was used to give food or drinks. The edge was sharp and blunt. But not too blunt that a direct impact would do the damage you needed.

“Y/n, what the fuck are you doing?” Samael called out.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you stared at the edge before exhaling slowly. “Stopping you.”

There wasn’t a warning for anyone when you swung your head down upon the edge. The sickening crack and wet sound filled the air, making everyone gasp in shock. Tara’s lips were parted with the bubbling of nausea forming when you lifted your face, revealing your forehead split open, blood sliding down your forehead. Slipping down the curve of your eye socket and invading your vision. A quiet hiss falls from your lips. But it didn’t amount to painstakingly harsh pound echoing in each and every part of your skull.

“Stop!” Samael screamed. “You don’t want to do this, Y/n! This won’t just kill me, you’ll kill yourself. Think about Tara! I’ll stop, man. Just don’t do this!”

With your mind forming a heavy haze and eyes becoming blinded by your blood, you managed one final glance toward Tara. Seeing the fear and desperation to do something, but didn’t have the strength to move. Caught within her own mind and the shock of you standing there, on the brink of death to end this torment you’d been unaware of until tonight.

And came with a heavy heart to stare at her anymore. Hoping that even if no words were spoken, you wouldn’t blame her for anything she couldn’t have done. Because even if she’d liked to save you, the damage was already done.

“Fuck it.”

Tara saw you roll your head back and she felt her eyes widen. Finally being grounded and screaming, “No-!” But it was too late, your head saved in on the edge of the surface and you hit the ground with a loud thud. A whimper fell from Tara’s lips as she saw your lifeless eyes stare back at her. Your forehead caved in and your face became unrecognizable by the blood that seeped from the wound.

One of the most important parts of her life was now covered in blood from her lack of assistance that she had no way of helping you through.

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