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flwrkid14 · 2 months ago

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Everyone Knows They’re Dating… Except Tim and Danny

To literally everyone, Tim and Danny are a couple. They’re so obvious about it, it’s almost annoying. Tim goes out of his way to prioritize Danny over anyone else—he’ll cancel plans, rearrange his schedule, and bend over backward to make sure Danny’s happy. Need coffee at 3 a.m.? Tim’s already out the door. A custom gadget? It’s in Danny’s hands before he even asks.

And Danny? Danny dotes on Tim in a way that’s almost overprotective. He ensures Tim eats, sleeps, and doesn’t completely drown himself in work. He’s always there, watching out for him, ready to step in if Tim ever needs help. And god help anyone who says a single bad word about Tim because Danny will defend him with a ferocity that borders on terrifying.

They live together. They cuddle to sleep. They share a bed. They have dinners together like it’s some weekly tradition. They wear each other’s clothes so often no one can tell whose hoodie is whose anymore. Sometimes they even plan matching outfits when they go out. Their “hangouts” are way too romantic and way too specific to not count as dates.

It’s obvious to everyone that Tim and Danny are dating. Everyone… except Tim and Danny.

The breaking point happens when Danny starts spending time with a new friend. Tim doesn’t even notice at first, but slowly, irritation starts bubbling under the surface. Why does Danny even need new friends? Doesn’t he already have Tim? And then the irritation morphs into a tight knot in his chest every time Danny talks about hanging out with this friend.

At first, Tim tells himself he’s just being logical—Danny is busy enough as it is, why stretch himself thinner? But when Danny cancels one of their movie nights to go out with this new friend, Tim spirals. He’s glued to his laptop but hasn’t typed anything in over an hour, too consumed with thoughts like: Is Danny replacing me? Am I not enough for him? Does he want someone else to be his best friend now?

He’s never been good at handling emotions, so naturally, he decides the best course of action is to bottle it all up and ignore it. That is until Steph shows up and immediately clocks that something’s wrong.

“What’s with the grumpy face?” she asks, slumping onto his couch.

“I’m not grumpy,” Tim lies, glaring at his laptop like it’s offended him personally.

Steph raises an eyebrow. “Right. So why are you moping like someone kicked your dog?”

“I’m not moping,” he mutters, crossing his arms.

Steph stares at him for a long moment, her eyes narrowing as she pieces it together. She knows Danny’s out with some new friend, and now she’s looking at Tim, who’s pacing the apartment like a caged animal, glaring at his phone every few seconds. Her expression shifts—realization dawning, then sharp focus. “Oh my god, Tim. You’re jealous.”

Tim freezes. “What? No, I’m not. That’s ridiculous.”

Steph crosses her arms, her gaze locked on Tim as if he’s the most complicated puzzle she’s ever tried to solve. “Okay, let’s break this down,” she starts, her tone deliberate. “You’re upset that Danny’s out with someone else. You’re overthinking it, spiraling about whether or not you’re enough, and now you’re convinced you’ve somehow ruined everything… Does that sound like just ‘friend’ feelings to you?”

Tim freezes mid-pace, the words hitting him like a bucket of cold water. “I—what?”

Steph raises an eyebrow. “Tim. You’re jealous.”

“I’m not—” Tim begins, but then stops, the denial catching in his throat. His brain scrambles to process her words, but the sinking feeling in his chest refuses to let him dismiss it. The pieces fall into place, one by one, each memory sharper than the last: the way his heart always lifts when Danny smiles, the quiet warmth of falling asleep next to him, the ache in his chest at the thought of Danny choosing someone else.

“Oh no,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “Oh my god. I’m jealous because—because I’m—”

Steph sighs, rubbing her temples. “You’re jealous because you’re in love with Danny.”

Tim’s knees almost give out as the realization settles in. “I’m the worst friend in the world,” he blurts, his voice breaking. Tears spring to his eyes as he starts pacing again, his hands flying up in a panicked gesture. “I have no right to feel this way! He’s my best friend—he deserves someone better, someone who won’t ruin his life with… with whatever this is!”

Steph groans, dragging a hand down her face. “Tim, for the love of—you're already dating.”

He stops dead in his tracks, blinking at her like she’s just spoken another language. “What?”

“Seriously? You’re basically married,” Steph says, throwing her hands up. “He practically lives here, you do everything together, and you’re constantly rearranging your life for him. What part of that screams just friends to you?”

Tim’s mouth opens, then closes, his mind spinning as he replays every moment with Danny through a new lens. The quiet mornings when they share coffee in companionable silence. The way Danny always notices when he’s stressed and pulls him into a hug without a word. How being with Danny feels like breathing—natural, essential, like coming home.

And it all clicks.

Oh. Oh no. He’s in love with Danny.

The realization is overwhelming, a mix of panic and joy and sheer terror. But beneath all that, there’s something else—a quiet certainty. He doesn’t just love Danny; he’s in love with him, and he doesn’t want to waste another second pretending otherwise.

Tim decides, then and there, that he has to confess. Because if there’s even the slightest chance that Danny feels the same, he’s not going to let it slip through his fingers. And if he doesn’t… well, there’s always Antarctica.

When Tim finally confesses, he pours his heart out in a way that’s so painfully earnest it makes Danny laugh.

“Tim,” Danny says, tears of laughter in his eyes, “I thought we were already dating.”

Tim blinks. “What?”

Danny grins. “Yeah, I kind of assumed we were. I mean, we live together. We share a bed. We cuddle. We’ve been wearing matching outfits for months, dude.”

“Oh.” Tim feels his face heat up.

Danny laughs again, pulling Tim into a hug. “You’re adorable, you know that?”

Tim buries his face in Danny’s shoulder, equal parts mortified and relieved. But hey, at least now they’re officially dating—or, well, aware of it.

Steph hears the whole story later and immediately texts them both: “Congrats on being the last ones to figure it out. True geniuses at work.”

#tim drake #danny phantom #danny fenton #brain dead #dead tired #dc x dp #idiots in love #danny calls tim 'dude' affectionately #tim and danny would be the last ones to realize they're dating #stephanie brown #all hail steph for being the one to step up and help them work out their relationship #tim and danny happy couple brain rot

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affableramen · 2 months ago

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Bad spirits

𝜗𝜚 Kazuha, Wriothesley, Tartaglia, Neuvillette, Pantalone, Ayato, Capitano, Dottore, Alhaitham, Baizhu

𝜗𝜚 Angst+comfort; mentions of injury; Capitano & Baizhu slightly yandere-ish

Divider by @anitalenia

Kazuha

When you break his favourite vase that was a gift from Ayato Kamisato—a fine vase of violet colour, with flowers painted all over it—Kazuha becomes shocked first. You did it in the middle of an argument, but the both of you knew it was completely unintentional. When the shattered piece of decor lies still on the floor (in shambles), forgetting all your bickering you go on your knees and help Kazuha clean the floor and get rid of the dangerous sharp edged pieces that could harm either him or you.

He is still slightly mad with his eyebrows furrowed, but he allows you to help him. Though, it might take a while for Kazuha to cool down. He is usually a reserved man, but the heated argument took its toll on him.

“Are you mad at me?”

“It was a personal favourite.”

“I am so sorry, but you acted like a dick.”

Kazuha did not even rush to deny it.

“I’m definitely not a saint.”

Wriothesley

You break his favourite mug in the middle of the night when you woke up to drink some water. The sleepy you accidentally pulled on the glass a little too much and it hit the mug next to it, dragging it down. Wriothesley sleeps deeply and doesn't hear any noise but upon waking up in the morning you tell him the story as you ought to. To that Wriothesley rubs the bridge of his nose and says:

“Forget it. At least you didn't hurt yourself.”

And he must be right, you could easily get injured while the mug was falling down. Luckily, you are not hurt and Wriothesley, even being slightly upset over his favourite mug, is genuinely not so attached to material things.

“I’ll just buy another. Maybe the same one. It’s not living things, they are replaceable.”

Tartaglia

It was not exactly your fault to have broken Tartaglia’s red mask when you were crashing out. He put in the dinner table and it had to be just a little swing of your hand and the mask flew into the mirror on the wardrobe. Luckily to the both of you, the butler was near and he could deal with the mess immediately. Shocked by the butterfly effect and still devastated over the conflict you had, you bursted into tears. Tartaglia was heated too, and he was not exactly in good spirits, however he rubbed his face and rushed to soothe you.

“Let them clean the mess, we’ll go upstairs for now. You’re full, yeah?”

You were not hungry at all after the warm meal you had, and even after the bickering Tartaglia still remained the gentleman you fell in love with.

Neuvillette

Breaking his cup into halves was definitely not the wisest idea to grab his attention. It was the look of horror in Neuvillette’s face that made you realise what exactly you just did. You looked at your hand in which there was a shattered glass and a few fresh cuts on your hand, already bleeding. Should you have loosened up your grip, as the shattered cup dropped onto the floor with a loud clinging noise. Neuvillette could have gone furious for you breaking his belonging, especially the one he used to drink his dear water from, but upon seeing you get hurt by your own stupid action, he could not help but rushing to you. Monseiur gently took your hand and opened your palm gently. He looked at the palm and concluded: “Foolish woman. I’m going to get a healer.”

It was just two sentences but you felt such emotion, such care for yourself. “ I didn't mean it”, you say, “I didn't mean it, Neuvillette. I was just… upset and stressed out, and you did make it any easier with your cold attitude.”

“I’m sorry, my love. I will be more attentive next time.”

“I’m sorry I broke your cup. I guess the both of us are at fault.”

Neuvillette noded, his face twitching with worry and other intense emotion you could not comprehend. “Stay here.”

Pantalone

“That was the last straw. Are you happy now?” Hisses he after you break the intricately-done, antic lamp that was supposed to be a gift to Pantalone from one of his business partners. With your leg you mash the insides of the former desk lamp, driving them out to the corner of your bedroom.

“Can’t you see? She’s flirting with you!”

“It was just a gift, why do you have to see everything as a means to court?”

“Because it is one, look, Pantalone. There is even a letter.”

Hearing that Pantalone slowly approaches you and the broken piece of decor, his look is intrigued but disappointed at the same time. Never he had think that he’d miss something so on the nose.

“Indeed it is”, he finishes reading the letter. “Darling I didn't know. I’m so sorry.”

“One day you have to face your fangirls and just draw a line, ‘kay?”

“I should have done it long ago, I fear”, he takes your hands, intertwining them with his own and looks you right in the eyes. “Don't need no one other than you.”

Pantalone pulls you into a tight embrace, staying like that for a couple of long still seconds.

Ayato

Ayato wasn't exactly pleased when you broke his favourite fan that was a piece of decorum in the living room. You did it out of disappointment and boiling up inside you felt upon seeing some other women trying to grab Ayato’s attention. You have never been so possessive before like you are today, and for a good reason. Those girls had no right to peek for long at the man who was obviously (and officially) taken. Your emotions were bottled up because you couldn't make a scene just there, you couldn't fight or threaten those shameless bimbos.

Ayato was rather tired and simply rolled his eyes on top of his head and slumped into his chair.

“Are you done?”

“Yes I am.”

“Wonderful. I’ll ask Thoma to clean this up. Go to bed.”

He was not exactly kind, and his what usually was a request, seemed like a merciless order to you.

Capitano

“Enough, woman, you’re just going to embarrass yourself furthermore”, Capitano says as he once again catches a dish thrown at him by your hand. “I said—enough.”

You lower your hand, gently put the remaining non shattered dish on the table and leave the dining hall. Capitano spends a couple of seconds thinking if he should invade your privacy and impact you somehow, or leave the things as they are. Torn between two evils, he finally makes his way after you and catches your arm, gently though.

“We shall discuss all our misunderstandings… in private”, he looks down, as if he is too ashamed to stare into your eyes, though you don't even see his face behind the mask.

“In the civil manner”, he clears his throat, “as a proper couple.”

The tension between you two dies out for a moment and the Captain releases your hand, his strong posture faltering as a sign that he is consumed by very strong emotions right now.

“Why not”, you wipe a tear from your eye. “I might humour you this once.”

Capitano offers you his hand and you accept it. As he leads you to the bedroom, he gives you quick glares here and there.

Dottore

Dottore stares at his broken vial, his face contorted into a grimace as he stares you up and down.

“I cannot believe you’d do that. Looks like I underestimated you”, he throws the wasted vial into the bin and barks at you. “Leave. I don't want to see your face for the rest of the day. As if you don’t know how much I worked on this shit.”

That’s right. It was just one vial, but for him it was still a piece of effort. Seeing Dottore pushing his anger back as he needs to focus on his job you have a sudden change of heart. You stop behind him, watching as he works.

“Don’t breathe onto my neck, now go away”, he remains the same grumpy old man but you understand it that deep inside his heart he just doesn't want to admit how exhausted and frustrated he is.

“I will aid you.”

“I have clones enough to aid me”, he snorts.

“Dottore.”

You do not take any objections instead put your gloves on and start assisting him.

“Don't be stubborn”, he says.

“No, you don’t be.”

After a while of grunting in frustration and constantly rejecting your attention Dottore finally gives up and lets you help finish the task in the lab together.

Alhaitham

In the light of you two arguing Alhaitham certainly expected you to pull a rash action like throwing his book into the river. He sighed and pulls his hair back, trying to cool down. Was it necessary for you to throw his book away? After all—what has the poor book even done?

“You never listen to me!” You cry out. “You only follow the principles of your book, that’s it. Have you ever thought out of the box?!”

“This argument is huge nonsense. I don’t even know why I spend my time on it in the first place.”

“Really? Maybe next thing you’re gonna say is that you don’t even know why you’re staying with me?!”

At that, Alhaitham finally displays a visible sign of irritation on his face. He is a calm man usually, but you have been pressuring him for a while now.

“What do you want me to do?!”

“Listen to my damn opinion! For once!”

You step back to take a breather, and Alhaitham lets out a loud, heavy sigh.

“Good. Tell me your opinion then. I will listen to it, I promise.” His voice has gone softer and he looks at you awaiting for your response. Perhaps you two can still come to a peaceful solution.

Baizhu

“I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not”, Baizhu turns away. He sighs and groans and overall is trying to cope. His lips are already hurt from how aggressively he licks them.

“I didn't mean to tear your bracelet during our little fight. I was stressed out.”

Baizhu does not honour you with a single look and walks back to his desk. He takes a seat and continues writing his prescriptions to customers as if nothing happened. His hand works, but you can see the wrinkles forced by anger deep inside him to cripple on his face. He ignores you standing there, looking at him and waiting for any reaction that he would make, but he seems to not even acknowledge your presence.

Finally, he rises and walks to hand the prescription to the customer.

“Okay”, you say to yourself, grab your things and attempt to go home, but in the last moment Baizhu sighs, his thin body blocking your path.

“Sit on the guest couch and wait for me.”

“So bossy”, you shake your head, perplexed with his smugness and sudden assertiveness that Baizhu perhsps kept inside for a good reason. You were pretty tired yourself so there was no point in disobeying the pharmacist. Baizhu waited until you took the seated position, eyeing you with heavy stare and furrowed eyebrows. Once you stopped there, his face took a softer look and he began working on the last few prescriptions.

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alltheirdamn · 8 months ago

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Lilies | dom!joel x sub!f!reader

Song Inspo: Lilies by Ethel Cain

Summary: Joel gives you everything, but you’re beginning to crave more. Rating: 18+ Explicit MDNI Word Count: 5.5k (sorry lol) Warnings: dom/sub dynamic, a teeny tiny bit of Stockholm syndrome, lingerie!kink, reader has long enough hair to braid, brat taming, jealousy, angst, names (little flower, sir, whore, slut), degrading!kink, anal play, anal sex, orgasm denial, oral (m!receiving), throat fucking, ball-sucking/worship, rough sex, creampie, slapping, spanking, aftercare, joel is kinda a meany but also kinda sweet A/N: this just kind of tumbled out of me and yeah… here we are lol very far out of my element with this dynamic, so hopefully i did it justice. (i am very horny for dom!joel right now, please don’t perceive me)

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

The rules were simple:

You were to be at Joel’s home at exactly four pm every Friday and stay with him until Sunday evening

Your hair must be in a braid at all times

You could only wear lingerie (selected and purchased by Joel)

That was your routine.

You had been Joel’s submissive for half a year, and nothing had changed. You submitted to everything he asked without question. Yes, there were safe words in place and long conversations about wants and needs, but none of that mattered to you. All that mattered was Joel’s unwavering attention every weekend.

As time passed, though, you started wanting more. Three days weren’t enough for you. The rules weren’t enough. You wanted all of Joel. Not just his commands. Not just his cock. You wanted him to be yours in every way.

Nothing within Joel’s rules explicitly stated you could only see one another. As far as you were concerned, he only tended to one submissive at a time, and you had been with him the longest. Pride swelled inside you when you thought of that; Joel kept you because he wanted you. He enjoyed the pleasure you brought him, and in return, he cared for you deeply. But you wanted to see how deeply he cared about you and if he was as committed to you as you were to him.

That's when you devised a meticulously thought-out plan to prove Joel’s possessiveness. The desperate need to make him realize there would be no one else to make him happy.

You clicked the door open at precisely four pm and entered Joel's home. He kept it spotless, an immaculate representation of his attention to detail. Nothing went unnoticed, and everything had its place and purpose. Within his home, you had your purpose as well.

Tip-toeing through his kitchen, you brushed your hand over the marble counter, the stone cold to touch as you walked into the living room. Floor-to-ceiling bay windows compromised the room's side wall, looking out onto the brick terrace. Joel’s view of the city was the best money could buy, and you spent most Saturday mornings curled up on the patio sofa, watching the sun rise over the skyline.

The plush, gray couch in the center of the living room faced a large flat screen, one rarely used when you stayed on the weekends. Joel insisted on being present with you, whether it was fucking you into oblivion inside his bedroom or dotting over you with aftercare and affection. The lines blurred between strict rules and faltering emotions. He wasn’t a man of many words, but the feelings expressed through actions were enough to make your heart grow fonder.

Joel was to arrive home in less than thirty minutes, giving you enough time to piece yourself together in the new lingerie he had purchased. Wandering into the bedroom, you looked over the sight of his king-sized bed, covered in a white down comforter and scattered with an array of luxury pillows. The sheets beneath the comforter were silky soft and cool to the touch, but the press of Joel’s body against yours during the night kept you wrapped in a blanket of warmth.

The master bath was beyond beautiful, with its white trimmed crowning and alabaster bathtub under the window. Two sinks were carved into a marble counter: one for Joel and one for you. Countless times before, Joel bent you over the counter, forcing you to watch him through the bathroom mirror as he ruined you from behind. You came to learn that was one of Joel’s favorite activities: making you watch him while he fucked you. You loved it, too.

You loved everything he did.

Setting your overnight bag on the counter, you laid out your lingerie piece by piece. The white lace bustier was practically see-through, with a detailed pattern that left little to the imagination. The only part of the top that wasn’t fully transparent was the fishbone wiring that traced the underside of the bust. The matching underwear was no better; your neatly trimmed sex would be fully seen under the lace that comprised the tiny bodice. In Joel’s words, he wanted you to look “angelic and ethereal.” Once again, the thrumming in your heart increased knowing he saw you as such. He worshiped you head to toe, and you were so eager to give him anything he wanted. Slipping the garment over your body, you worked on your hair, plaiting the strands into a perfect braid you had mastered over the last several months. You secured it with a silk bow—just as Joel had requested—and settled it between your shoulder blades. Admiring yourself, you smiled into the mirror. Joel would be pleased with you.

But first, you needed to do something.

Reaching into your purse for your cell phone, you adjusted the camera to capture your lace-clad body in a teasing portrait. The photo wasn’t for Joel. Scrolling through your phone, you found the contact of your latest man of interest—well, not a genuine interest, so perhaps, the latest victim? You were only using him as part of your plan, and you hoped it worked in your favor.

As your finger hovered over the send button, you heard the unmistakable sound of the front door lock sliding open. A thrill of anxiety rushed through your body; you would do this. Pressing send, you ran to the bedroom and placed your phone on the nightstand. The ringer was on, which Joel did not favor during your time with him.

His large frame shadowed the bedroom door as he stepped into the room. In all his glory, Joel Miller was yours for the next seventy-two hours. But if you had it your way, he’d be yours forever. Clad in his usual work attire, his broad shoulders and chest stretched out his business suit, the white button-down peeking out beneath the jacket. His thick thighs were covered in well-tailored trousers, and his shoes were pristine and polished as he liked. Gazing up, you drank in the neatly trimmed scruff along his jaw, the silver patches thickening as they neared his ears. The mustache over his upper lip was just as clean, the edges dipping close to the curve of his mouth—which was currently tipped up into a satisfied grin.

“Hello, little flower,” he greeted.

Little flower.

That had always been his preferred name for you. “You’re so delicate, like a little flower. I could marvel at your beauty but crush you in my hand in seconds.”

Such a sentiment shouldn’t ignite something so visceral inside you, but it sounded so sweet when it fell off his tongue in honey-drench syllables.

“Hello, sir,” you smiled, your body situated on the edge of the bed.

You watched as he shed his suit jacket, folding it carefully and draping it over the dresser. His eyes stayed trained on you, the rich brown of his irises boring into you with a softness so tender it toppled something inside your stomach. Working at the cuffs of his shirt, Joel rolled them in perfect sections until they hugged the thick muscles of his forearms just below his elbows.

“You look radiant in the new set,” he said, his eyes dragging over your body.

You preened at his compliment, a blush crawling over your chest and neck.

“Thank you, sir. I love anything you pick out for me.”

Joel cracked a wide grin, pleased with your response. He curled his pointer finger at you, beckoning you closer. You obeyed his command wordlessly, stepping into his warmth. Rough, calloused fingers trailed over your bare skin, trailing higher up your arm until his hand came to cup your cheek.

Your eyes fluttered shut as he rubbed a thumb over your cheekbone, the touch you craved when you weren’t in his presence. You craved tenderness at all hours of the day; you lay awake sometimes at night yearning for more. Always more.

You craned your neck to kiss his lips softly, gently. If you could choose how you’d die, it would always be in this moment, where the world dissolved around you, and it was just Joel’s body against yours.

The moment shattered away as your phone shrilled from the nightstand, the vibration rattling the wood. Joel broke from your lips, his eyes set ablaze and swimming in darkness. Disappointment washed over his features, the crease between his brow forming and his lips set in a thin line. Without a single word, he strode to the nightstand and stared at your phone screen, no doubt flooded with texts from the man you had sent the photos.

Your heart thudded in your ears, the sound pressurizing inside your head. On bated breath, you waited for him to say something.

“Kneel,” he ordered, his voice cold. He didn’t even glance at you as he said the word.

You did without hesitation, your knees dropping to the carpet floor without a sound. The tension in the room was palatable as Joel walked into your line of vision. He held the phone in front of your face, his fingers tight around the edges.

“Read.”

Your eyes scanned the words on the screen, a slew of text messages… each more vulgar than the last. You didn’t want to say them aloud.

“Read,” he repeated.

“I—I don’t want to, sir,” you whispered.

Joel’s body was foreboding, a shadow swallowing you whole as you sat perched on your knees before him. He could do anything he wanted to you, and the truth was that you’d let him. You’d let him do anything because you wanted it. You wanted him so desperately.

“I didn’t ask if you wanted to read it,” he said. “I am telling you to read it.”

You swallowed thickly, your voice barely above a whisper, as you began to read off the text thread.

Damn, I need to know what your pussy looks like.

Let’s meet up tomorrow.

Send another picture. I want to see your legs spread wider.

Bet you would let me cum inside you.

Line after line, word after word, you were embarrassed. Embarrassed and afraid, neither settled well inside your stomach as it churched together.

Tossing the phone to the ground, Joel crouched to meet you at eye level. It was the first time you felt terrified by the way he looked at you. Several times, he had been rough—almost always, as it was what he enjoyed—but there was always a glimmer of softness even when he hurt you.

“You did this for a reason.” Joel didn’t ask; he said it like a calculated realization.

You bowed your head, too ashamed to meet his eye. Oh, but he didn’t like that. Gripping your chin with merciless strength, Joel lifted your face to meet his. A breath apart, but so far away.

“Explain yourself, little flower. I’m growing rather impatient.”

“I wanted to see you jealous, sir,” you admonished. “I wanted to know what you would do.”

“Jealous,” he echoed, rolling his tongue over his teeth.

He ripped his hand from your face, letting your head fall between your shoulders. You started at the polished tips of his work shoes, the black leather shiny and without marks. No detail went unnoticed.

“Undo my belt,” he instructed, stretching himself back to his full height.

Straightening your spine, you reached up to his belt and began to unclasp the metal, holding it tight around his trousers. Joel continued to stare down at you unamused. You worked at pushing his pants down his thick thighs, shoving them far enough to reach his kneecaps.

“Take out my cock. Let’s see how well I’ve trained your throat.”

You hooked your thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, giving them a good tug until his thick cock sprung free. It bobbed against his stomach, the reddened tip weeping with precum. Your hand came up to grip the girthy base, but Joel tutted in protest.

“Hands behind your back, little flower.”

Clasping your hands at the base of your spine, you peered up at him with an eager expression. Joel arched a brow, waiting for you to comply and give him his request. Shuffling your knees forward, you dragged the tip of your tongue over the slit, lapping at the salty precum that dripped down. You peppered him with kitten kisses, your tongue tracing the veins on the underside of his cock. Joel rewarded you with a satisfied hum, bucking his hips forward until the head of his cock parted your lips wider.

Dropping your jaw open, you welcomed each girthy inch of his cock into your warm mouth, the faint smell of his body wash mingling with his musky scent as you took him deeper. The moment the head of his cock brushed the back of your throat, you sputtered softly and felt the tears begin to well in your eyes as you squeezed them shut.

Joel ripped himself from your mouth, his hand coming down to squish your cheeks together.

“Keep your eyes open.”

“Yes, sir,” you said sheepishly.

He released his grip on your face and adjusted himself back at your wet lips. Sucking in a deep breath, you wrapped your mouth around his cock once more. Joel jerked his hips forward, sending his cock to the back of your throat. You swallowed around him, keeping your tongue flat against the underside of his cock. Your nose brushed against the trimmed curls that framed his pubic bones, the hairs tickling your nose as he held you there.

“I’m going to count to ten, little flower. Be a good girl, and show me how well you can take it.”

You nodded, your mouth suctioning tighter around him. Joel’s eyes darkened, his lips parted as he readied himself to count.

“One,” he barked.

You blinked away the tears springing in the corner of your eyes. You could do this; you had done it before.

“Two.”

You unhinged your jaw, your senses invaded by his scent as you pressed further into his pubic hair. Somewhere between breaths, Joel counted three and four with a loud grunt, and you continued to focus on exhaling through your nose.

“Five,” he gritted.

The urge to gag around his cock grew harder to ignore, and the tears flowed freely down your cheeks. Your chin was coated in drool as you anticipated the next count, your eyes foggy as you stared up at him. Joel tilted his head, admiring how he stuffed every crevice of your mouth.

“Six.”

“Seven.”

More saliva pooled in your mouth, and you hollowed your cheeks to avoid sputtering around him. Joel’s lips curled into a devilish smirk, and he nudged his pelvis closer until your nose smashed into his skin. You coughed around his length, the corners of your mouth dripping saliva onto your neck and chest.

“Almost there, little flower. Doing so good for me,” he crooned.

Joel brushed a finger over your throat, tapping the bulge protruding against your aching flesh. Eight and nine were a blur, your eyes barely staying open. Every flutter of your lashes garnered a dissatisfied tut from Joel, his body tense and throbbing with anger.

“Ten,” he sighed.

You tore away, coughing violently as you sucked in jagged breaths. Twisting your hands behind you, you squeezed your eyes shut to push the remainder of the tears down your cheeks. Joel wrapped a large hand around the base of his cock, stroking himself slowly and lazily.

“Stick out your tongue,” he ordered.

The words he said were far and few, which terrified you. Deep within yourself, you knew you had enraged him with your little act. It garnered no affection as you hoped, but he still gave you the attention you yearned for. Good or bad, you would take it. You would take anything he gave you.

A trail of saliva, salty and thick, dripped from the point of your tongue as you did what he instructed. Joel rested the velvety skin of his balls against your mouth, the weight of them heavy on your tongue. You didn’t need his commands as you slipped one of his balls into your mouth. Above you, Joel shuddered and clenched his fists at his side. You worshiped each with equal measure, alternating between gentle caresses of your tongue and sloppy suctions of your mouth.

“That’s it, little flower. Just like that,” Joel cooed.

A desperate moan left your lips as you lapped up the salty wetness covering his silken sack, swallowing down the remnants of your drool. Joel pumped himself faster, the sound of his jagged breathing mixing with the lewd noises of your mouth. His release was nearing; you could sense it in the way his thick thighs flexed around your face.

“Please,” you whined, your words muffled into the hair around his balls.

Joel’s hand slowed around his length, his thumb brushing over the slit as more precum leaked out. Staring up at him helplessly, you waited for his release to paint your tongue. He gave you a stern look, nodding toward the bed.

“Hands and knees. Now.”

“But—,” you protested.

Joel smoothed his palm over your cheek before pulling back and delivering a sharp smack against your face. You jerked at the sting of his touch radiating through the layers of your skin. He undoubtedly left behind a reddened mark across your cheek and jaw.

“You’ve already angered me once,” he warned. “Get on the fucking bed.”

Your knees scuffed against the ground as you scrambled onto the bed, situating yourself in the position he commanded. The unmistakable sound of the leather unsheathing from his pants ignited a new wave of fear through your body. Joel discarded it beside your face before coasting a hand down the center of your spine.

“I’ll give you another chance to explain yourself,” Joel said.

The bed dipped under his weight as he pressed a knee into the comforter beside you. You glanced over your shoulder, watching through teary eyes as Joel quickly unbuttoned his shirt. Dark chest hair scattered over his broad chest, spattered lower until it tapered into a thick trail down his pelvis. A thin sheen of sweat glistened over his golden skin as he discarded his shirt carelessly onto the ground. Careless…it wasn’t something you were used to with Joel.

“I just wanted your attention,” you muttered, your head hanging between your shoulders.

Joel tugged your braid, forcing your neck to crane backward. Despite the harshness of his words, his touch, his demeanor… your body throbbed with an unavoidable need. It throbbed at the apex of your sex, the lace rubbing against the slick that pooled between your thighs. Joel paid no attention to the way your legs shifted side to side, his unwavering stare penetrating you.

“Do I not give you enough attention?” He questioned.

“You do, sir,” you nodded, the strain on your neck growing uncomfortable.

“Perhaps you don’t deserve attention at all,” he mused.

He released his grip on your hair, your head falling forward and hanging low between your shoulders. Joel moved behind your body, his thick fingers tearing apart the lace hugging your ass. You yelped at the sheer force of it, the chill of the room skating up your bare sex. Joel’s fingertips traced over the back of your thigh, lingering close to the outline of your weeping pussy. Just one touch. That’s all you wanted—just one.

His touch disappeared, leaving you whining and frustrated. Joel huffed a laugh before bringing two fingers to your mouth.

“Suck. Get them nice and wet for me.”

You obliged, rolling your tongue over the thick digits as they pressed down into your mouth. He pulled them away, a web of drool connecting from the tip of your tongue to the pads of his fingers. Joel knocked your legs open further, and you waited in anticipation for his fingers to give you what you needed. Except, he didn’t.

A gasp left your lips as he pushed the calloused skin of his fingertips against the tight ring of muscles above your slit. With one hand gripping your ass, Joel spread you wider, humming at the sight of you fully exposed.

“Maybe you don’t deserve the attention you want. You’ll take what I give you, and you’ll thank me.”

“Please,” you whined.

“No,” he growled. “Desperate little sluts don’t get what they want.”

Joel’s finger dipped into your clenching hole, prodding you open despite your whines of protest. It wasn’t the first time he used this way, but it felt different. It wasn’t kind. It wasn’t meant to be focused on your pleasure. He was determined to prove a point, and you would comply because you were so greedy for anything he could give. He pressed the second finger to your hole, stretching you wider as he pushed them to his second knuckle. Wider and wider, he stretched you, uncomfortable but not unwelcomed.

“I see how wet you are, little flower. I know how greedy this pussy can get, but you know what? You don’t deserve it. This pussy doesn’t deserve my attention at all.”

“Sir!” You cried.

“You’re going to take my cock in your ass like the pathetic whore you are,” he growled.

Joel curled his fingers inside you, slipping them deeper until they were fully seated inside you. If you felt full now, it would be nothing compared to the way his cock would split you open. The sheer thought of it sent a shockwave to your clit, the aching bud pulsating painfully. Joel laughed at the way you squirmed underneath him, rewarding your cries with a jarring smack against your ass. Fuck, it hurt.

Tearing his fingers from you, Joel disappeared from the bed and riffled through his nightstand drawer. You heard the familiar sound of the lube squirting into his hand and the rough breath of Joel as he realigned himself with your loosened hole. The initial intrusion of his cock sparred stars into your vision, the tip of his cock tearing you open. Even in his angered haze, Joel was slow—careful.

“Breathe, little flower,” he urged.

You barely managed a full gulp of air before Joel bottomed out entirely. A scream erupted from your lips as you adjusted to his size, each inch of his length stuffed inside your tightening hole. Your body flexed and tensed under Joel’s touch, one hand pressing into your lower back, the other looping a finger through the plaits in your hair. Beneath him, you were helpless, entirely at his mercy for whatever he wanted.

With a slow retraction of his hips, Joel snapped his hips forward hard enough to send your upper body into the comforter. The rugged momentum of his thrusts tore you apart; piece by piece, Joel diminished you into nothing but a hole for his use.

“Greedy fucking whore,” Joel grunted, each thrust weighted and heavy inside you. “How’s it feel, huh? You love being used like this?”

“I love it, sir,” you cried.

Joel pulled out to the tip, a heavy breath expelling from your mouth. He ripped into you again, resolving you into a heap of tears and shallow whimpers. His finger in your intertwined hair tightened, pulling your neck back until you had no choice but to connect with his piercing stare. With blown pupils and curled lips, Joel was the epitome of carnal rage. You did this. You spurred him into this embodiment of anger.

“Is this enough for you, little flower?” He demanded.

Arousal dripped between your legs, the snap of his balls against your clit radiating pleasure through your body. You writhed under his hold, a pleading cry leaving your mouth as you stared at him helplessly. Usually reserved and stoic, Joel’s emotions washed over his features, speaking louder than his words. You didn’t just anger him; you hurt him. You questioned his role as a dominant, which was an unspeakable thing to do.

“Answer me!” He raged.

“It’s enough!” You sobbed.

Joel fucked you into abandon, your asshole sore and pained with every cantation of his hips. He was tearing you apart from the inside out, unrelenting and punishing. Your safe word balanced on the tip of your tongue, yet you withheld. You knew Joel would stop the moment you said the word, but you didn’t want him to. You wanted to prove you could be everything and more. You wanted to prove yourself until he wanted no other but you.

The pulse between your legs was unbearable. You were stretched out and gaping around his cock, void of any chance of release. Joel knew how your body responded; he was aware of how your hole contracted and flexed around him. Yet, he gave you nothing. He wouldn’t.

“Taking my cock so well, little flower,” he muttered between labored breaths. “Swallowing every inch of me.”

“Please, sir. Please, I want to cum,” you babbled.

The sting of his palm against your ass was his response to your pleas, a simple gesture to shut you up. You took it, though your body buzzed with pleasure in every limb.

“I know you do,” he crooned softly. “But you don’t get what you want. Only what I give you. So fucking take it.”

The world was caving around you, your vision blackening at the edges. Joel wound your braid over his fist and quickened his thrusts. Your body sagged into the bed, limp and pliant. Guttural sounds fell off Joel’s lips as he fucked you into the bed. Your ears deafened to the noise, your mouth hanging open and dripping spit into the soft bedspread beneath you. The erratic drive of his cock was the only warning you had to know he was close. Jagged, deep thrusts speared into you as Joel toppled over the edge with an animalist growl as he pumped his release into your fucked out hole. You twitched under his body, your knees slipping lower as your body gave out.

Despite the haze inside your mind, your lips tipped up into a satisfied grin. He used your body just as he wanted, and you proved fealty to him—ardent, unwavering submission to the one man who wove his way into your heart.

Joel pulled himself from you, slow and gentle, until the roll of his release was falling between your slit. You clenched around nothing, the tight ring of muscles aching painfully. He reached up to undo the silk bow holding your braid together, his fingers working through the soft waves as they floated over your back.

“Little flower,” he whispered, kissing your sweat-coated spine.

You flinched at his touch, not out of fear but of shock that still radiated through your muscles. You hadn’t fully returned to your mind, and Joel took notice. Working you onto your back, he roamed a hand over your breasts; his hand pressed firmly against the thrumming pulse of your heart. You stared up at him blankly, the tears now dried against your cheeks. What had been the face of cruelty only moments ago had now morphed into the soft, longing gaze you always yearned for. Joel’s pupils had returned to normal, the flecks of amber and rich chocolate boring into you with a look of concern.

“Thank you, sir,” you whispered.

He bent over you, pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead. Your eyes fluttered close, relishing in the softness of his lips on your skin. You wanted this. You ached for it fiercely but could not form the words to beg for it.

“Stay here a moment,” he said.

You lay against the bed, your limbs twitching as you rolled onto your side. Curling into yourself, you fought off the tremors still wracking through your muscles, a steady pulse rhythmically beating within your clit. Joel denied you your orgasm, which he never did. It was your punishment for wanting too much—a miscalculated attempt at proving your worth.

The sound of running water drifted from the bathroom, followed by Joel’s heavy footsteps nearing the bed. With a quick unclasping of your bustier and a firm hand under your knees, Joel lifted you from the bed. You became weightless in his arms, cradling you to his sweaty chest. Wrapping a shaky arm around his shoulders, you rested your head inside the crook of his neck and exhaled an exhausted sigh.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said softly.

The pungent aroma of lavender and vanilla tinged your nose as Joel guided you into the bathtub. Immediately, your muscles unwound in their tension, a relieving groan expelling from your lips. The heat of the water soothed your tender flesh, the bubbles running over your bare skin in small clusters. Joel was dedicated to aftercare, especially after rougher sessions with you. This was no different. He always remained beside the bathtub, soothing you with praise as you tipped further into its warmth.

You blinked up at him, giving him a tired smile. He gave you a silent nod, then motioned for you to slide forward. He never bathed with you. It wasn’t a rule, per se, but he never granted it to you. This was different—foreign.

You slid your body as far as it could go, your knees pressed to your chest as Joel dipped into the water behind you. Hooking a strong arm around your abdomen, he pulled you flush with his body and dropped his mouth below the shell of your ear.

“You chose to anger me today,” he muttered. “I need the honest truth as to why you did it.”

You twisted your face around to meet his steady gaze, your bottom lip quivering while you debated if the truth was worth voicing.

“I wanted you to be possessive,” you admitted. “I wanted to know if you cared for me the way I care for you.”

Joel’s eyebrows raised slightly, the words shocking him.

“Of course, I care for you. Do I not show it well enough?”

“No—no, you do, sir. I just…I want to be the only one you care for.”

“You have been, little flower. There’s been no one else the entire time you’ve been with me,” he insisted.

You turned your body around, your knees bruising against the tile as you cupped his face. Never had you been so vulnerable with Joel, but you needed him to see your desperation. You needed him to see how committed you were to your role in his life.

“I want to be the only one,” you repeated. “I don’t want you to have another.”

Joel’s hands rested at the curve between your waist and hips, prodding your flesh soothingly.

“Is that what you want, little flower?” He questioned.

“It doesn’t matter what I want, sir. What matters is if it’s what you want.”

He pressed his forehead to yours, creases forming near his temple as he shut his eyes. Silence fell between you, so loud it fractured your heart. No answer was an answer. You failed in your attempts to prove yourself. You failed to make him want you more. He didn’t want you, no matter—.

“My sweet, little flower,” he sighed.

Fresh tears slipped down your cheek, and you made no effort to swat them away. It was useless when you knew you lost the one thing you wanted the most. Joel brushed his lips against yours, and you let a muffled cry escape.

“Rules can be rectified,” he started. “If this is something you wish, I’ll happily oblige.”

“Really?” You asked, pulling away.

You studied him for any sign of doubt, any stolen glance that may prove his words a lie. But he looked at you with complete devotion, irrevocable certainty.

“I want you just as badly. All you had to do was ask. There was no need for defiance or jealousy.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“I think you’ve proven yourself more than enough today, little flower. Turn around so I can care for you properly.”

You slipped back into his warm embrace, your legs widening and pressed against his. Joel smoothed a hand down your stomach, his fingers tracing the swollen lips of your sex. You bucked into his hand, chasing the orgasm that still swam within your stomach. He drew slow, tantalizing circles over your soddened clit, muttering soft words into your ear.

“Such a good girl,” he cooed. “I know what you need. I’ll take care of you.”

“Yes—yes,” you panted, arching into his touch.

The pad of his finger pressed into the throbbing bud, the surging pleasure inside you growing agonizing. Bathwater sloshed around your body is rivulets, the push and pull of the waves crashing into the space where your skin didn’t touch. Closer and closer, he drove you to the edge until a delicious rapture tore through your body. Every muscle beneath your balmy skin seized upwards, a wail of relief echoing around the empty bathroom as you caved into your climax.

“That’s it, little flower. So beautiful when you come undone for me,” Joel mumbled into your ear, his teeth nipping at the lobe.

Shockwaves trembled over you as you slumped against his solid frame, your head falling back onto his shoulder. You had what you wanted. Body and soul, Joel granted your wish. Ecstasy wasn’t a strong enough word to describe the swelling inside your chest.

“Stay with me. More than just the weekends. I’ll have your things brought here, and you can stay permanently,” Joel offered. “This house is rather lonely without you in it, anyway.”

“Okay,” you submitted, a grin stretching across your face.

He was yours.

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #dom!joel miller #sub!f!reader #dom/sub #joel miller x you #tlou fanfic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut

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evilminji · 2 years ago

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I Ponder The Humble Blob Ghost!

You think they are what happens when you ALMOST but not quite A Ghost(tm)? Like, you have the ectoplasm and the will to continue... but you didn't really have A Thing in life? No Final Crystalizing Thought that brings focus? Just "ow! Ah! I'm scared. Don't wanna die!" And theeeeen.... *poof!*

Why am I Orb? Am squish? No bones.

Like? Remove any one piece of the Critical Formula and you get Blob instead of Ghost? Different KINDS, mind you, but blobs none the less.

Like Skulker! Not enough Ectoplasm. Ended up Blob. He CLEARLY had the Will, the Obsession, the gory end and unfinished business... buuuut? No green goo to power the creation of a full body. He clearly knows what he's supposed to LOOK like? But it's not something FIXABLE? Even with his now unlimited access to Ectoplasm.

Like in utero damage that permanently stunted his growth. HE is fine. All his facilities are on-line and checking in as they should, for the level of sentience expected of a ghost of his people. He just... smol. Same strength, intelligence, and power as he would have always HAD...

He just got handed a really, REALLY crap "customize your eternal meatsuit" option screen. Like for real guys. Basicly NO options. His salt is eternal and entirely justified. He could have had his tattoos. He paid a LOT of credits for those! Sat for DAYS! Had to track down this One(1) artist on this SHITTY little trading hub, that BARELY QUALIFIED as one, to sit in on uncomfortable overturned crate... IN A GAS MASK because the AIR SUPPORT KEPT KICKING IT... for hoooours!

It was a WORK OF ART. You would have CRIED.

This is BULLSHIT.

But wait, I hear you say, staring at the Blob ghost chewing on a lamp post. The one that has wii music playing behind the eyes. No thoughts, head jello, one might say. What about THEM?

Good point! Remember that formula?

LOT of Ecto! But THAT... might be either an animal or a fungus. We'd have to check. ANYTHING can and DOES die. If it's alive? It can die and potentially leave a ghost. But! Consider the noble Ghost Rabbit! *holds up squirming rabbit that is ABSOLUTELY trying to both bite me and kick me in the face* A noble and friendly creature!

THIS is what happens when an animal: has sufficient Ectoplasm at the death site, a reason to continue living (fairly common. It's usually their offspring, escape, the instinctual drive to survive itself or other understandable base drives. Like love, loyalty, or hunger.), and that all important High Emotions End.

Miss any of these? You get Blobbertson over there! He's clearly a hungry boy! But! Not very DRIVEN is he? Just floating along, chewing on whatever seems interesting, looking for a snack. He's food motivated. But not MOTIVATED motivated.

Blobbertson over there? A peaceful death. Too much Ectoplasm too leave, too food motivated in life NOT to carry over, but? No DRIVE. To DEFINE and DEMAND the Ectoplasm in his little body become sharp and active. No highly emotional state to stir it into action.

Is Blobbertson INCAPABLE of higher emotions? No. He is every bit as capable as the Ghost Rabbit that has savaged my hands and escaped while you were reading. It was, in fact, NOT as friendly as originally assumed. I may be bleeding. Unimportant. Blobbertson is PERFECTLY capable of getting attached. Being trained.

Whatever level of intelligence Blobbertson had in life, still remains. And WITH that? Comes the ability to improve and grow in death! IF (and this is the big one) he ever finds MOTIVATION to do so.

Because you see, Blobbertson is quite happy. No thoughts, brain jello. Drifting along in a happy green ocean like a jellyfish. Only concerned about his next snack. It's comforting. His food obsession filled, his tiny motivation barely enough to move him place to place.

He would GLADLY sit in one place and eat for the rest of eternity. Head blissfully silent.

And that's OKAY! It truly, honestly, is. Not everyone has to be conquers and kings, crafters and cosmonauts. Sometimes you just want to spend the rest of time playing in the sand. Resting on a sunshine-y hill. Not EVERY soul is a loud one.

This is the INFINITE Realms.

And there are places like Amity Park out there. THICK as cold honey with Ectoplasm in the air, gently infusing all the life that grows there with greater and greater chance of Ghost-hood. Even the peaceful blinking awake after that final rest to look down and... little nubby green paws.

Congratulations on becoming a Blob, grandma! Yes, I imagine you ARE furious it is inordinately difficult to knit like this. No, I don't think complaining to the king will help, MeMa.

That said? I can not tell you if Blob Ghost all belong to the same Family or the same Order, but they are NOT the same species! The WAY in which you fuck up that ever vital Fomula results in WILDLY different Blobs! Was it an animal? A sentient species? A sentient PLANET? A complexe interlocking colony of fungi? What was the EXACT Ectoplasm concentration at the death site? Was that the historical levels or the At Death levels? Was the individual under sedation?

Yes! All of this IS in fact, VERY relevant!

And you think it ends THERE? HA! The SKIES are FILLED with Fighty Mother Fuckers! Ghosts LOVE to fight! It's built into their social dynamics and hierarchy! Good ol brawls to get the Ecto pumping!

......Local Blob Farmer would like to take this moment to say "GET OF HIS GHOST PEONIES, YOU HEATHENS."

No they would NOT like to join your 24/7 thunder dome in the sky, THANKS! Martha here is trying to compose some Atlantian Shell Poetry. Blobby Jr of Blobbington and Blobbington Incorporated is TRYING to study! You've DESTROYED THE COMMUNAL ZEN GARDEN!!

Get! GET!!! *swings broom*

And THEN you look not even a mile east? And it's the floating island of Blobs. They LIKE that rock. It's just an ever shifting, accidentally rolling off the edge, falling slightly, making an offended squeek, and floating back to the top of the pile to repeate the process, MOOSH of thousands of blobs. No one's certain if they used to be seals or some sort of cat.

Apparently THAT island is Warm(tm).

So there they sit. Making contented noises, chirping and shoving for the best spots. They never leave. You can literally just... float up and sit on them. It's amazing. You gotta be careful not to get buried, but it's So Soft and bouncy? And they are ALL making that soft happy Blob vibrate noise. It's like a giant, island sized, warm and almost fuzzy but not, water bed that massages you.

Just DON'T start anything there! Holy SHIT are they territorial. You Will Die. They SWARM.

And THATS not even getting into the Blobs that are? Literally brainless. Some people eat those. Which? I guess? They ARE basicly Ectoplasm jello. But SOME of them are NOT? Like... it's a debate. Hot button issue, ya know?

Some fungus turns into Ecto Jello with negative IQ and delicious insides. Is this food? But OTHER fungus was SENTIENT in life and become a whole RANGE of Fungus ghosts, from Blob right on up to complexe dryad like ghosts! Clearly NOT food unless you are a MONSTER. But THEY argue the FIRST group are ALSO not food?

Plant Ghosts have strong opinions and are willing to Gruesome Violence about it.

Which brings us back to the Humble Blob Ghost! Check before you pet! That might be grandma! Or planning to eat your hand! Just as Mammal tells you little to nothing about what animal you are looking at, so too does Blob and Ghost! Stay safe out there! And if anyone sees a glowing green rabbit? I want my blood back! That's supposed to be in MY body! Rude!

This has been, the daily ghost!

@hdgnj @stealingyourbones

#dpxdc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dp x dc #danny phantom #blob ghosts #blob lore #i like to PONDER the lore #get my grabby little racoon hands on the set dressings #gib me your SECRETS #gib to the racoon #minji's writing

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milkytheholy1 · 5 months ago

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Name Calling

Shadow The Hedgehog x Female Reader

A/N: I've been eating up all the Shadow content lately and it all came together into this fic. I know I try to stay in the GN category but something within me just wanted to write Female, so I am sorry to those who will be put off by that, but tbh, it doesn't really have anything to do with the fic it's just the pronouns I used, they can be inalterably changed for those who prefer.

_______________________________________________

Shadow The Hedgehog had been called a lot of things in his life, monster, villain, thug, traitor, the list goes on and on. But he supposed he deserved it, after all, he was a freak of nature; a piece of science moulded by alien goo and crazed mathematics. He was made with pure intentions but was messed with, he deviated from his chosen path whether it was his choice or not.

On some particularly bad days he was known as the hedgehog that would end the world, who would bring destruction and chaos to everything he set his hands on, a single breath of his was thought to level a city. Shadow felt forever alone. He had no family to turn to, no friend to comfort him like Maria once did, to him no one compared; they were all beneath him.

Maria was the only person who could ever understand what was going on in his confused mind, she often sought to help him, she gave him a purpose:

"W-why was I made? Why was I created into this world if I was only meant to cause destruction?"

"That's not why you're here, Shadow. You are here to help people, to help me and the other humans who live down there! You were born to protect mankind from evil."

"But, Maria, I was created with this evil inside of me. The humans would only fear me-"

"You were born from love, Shadow! My grandfather made you for me, he made me a best friend and he made someone who would spread love and kindness wherever he went. Humans only fear what they don't know, or so I've been told, but they will love you, Shadow, they have to!"

Painful images now plagued those pleasant thoughts, tainting her memory like mould on a rotting fruit. After Maria's death, Shadow became a machine, too hard to produce emotion, too cold to think about the actions he took. All he knew was humanity was to blame for Maria's death, humanity took the only person who understood him; they had to pay.

Bases were burnt down, G.U.N soldiers were hunted, and civilians became hostages. Nothing was too much for him at this stage, all he needed was to quell the anger that burned inside of him, the vengeance that fueled his very being. That's where the names started coming from, parents warning their children about the boogeyman that lurks around the corner at night, the feral beast that kills in the darkness and leaves no witnesses.

Through his rage, he forgot what Maria told him, he forgot what his purpose was: to protect, to spread kindness and to love. He only came to this realisation one night after a particularly gruesome fight. It was in a small village, somewhat far from the big towns and cities, cobbled streets and large green fields. It was here where Shadow had tracked down a retired G.U.N agent, he was there on that night and therefore he had to pay.

The struggle had led from the agent's house to the cobbled streets, a single gunshot ringing out into the silence of the night, the moonlight tracing over the man's lifeless body. As Shadow pulled back, his ears flicked, a small sound: a gasp. Quickly turning around his eyes caught another human, deep blue eyes and long blonde hair. Shadow flinched, shaking away the similarities he tried to focus.

The young woman slowly shuffled back into the alley they were hiding in, the moonlight dancing over her clothes as she moved. Shadow gripped his gun tighter, the sound of his gloves creasing was as loud as the gunshot from before.

"I'm sorry I have to do this," he mumbled, pulling the gun up and aiming it at the woman. She cowered slightly, eyes dancing between the unconscious man on the floor and the ebony hedgehog in front of her, "Then don't."

Shadow perked a brow, amused by how forward she was, "Do you know who I am?" he wasn't cockey, it was a genuine question. The lady shook her head, "You're the boogeyman."

"Then you know why I have to do this."

"Then before I die, may I ask you a question?"

Shadow thought it through, although he didn't want this to drag on any longer and daylight was soon approaching, what harm could one question do from a dying woman?

"Why do you do this? Why do you go around killing people and burning houses? I've seen newspapers talking about you, calling you a monster-"

"Because I am a monster!" He struck back, cocking the gun. "A real monster would have pulled the trigger by now, a real monster wouldn't even entertain a stare with me."

Now that was good. Shadow felt like he had been pushed away into another reality, one where all of a sudden he didn't have to kill people anymore. A reality where he didn't have to skip town and live in trees or under benches, one where we didn't have to hide and feel so angry all the time.

Snapping back into reality, Shadow adjusted his hand holding the gun, foolishly he had dropped his arm just a little, "Enough, you don't know me."

"No, I don't. I don't know you, the papers sure seem to think they do, but no one just goes around doing what you do for fun. I'm not trying to help you, but don't you think you should step back a little and think about what you're doing? Is this really what you want?"

"Of course it is! This is all I've ever known and it's all I'll ever be!" he cursed out, anger swelling deep within his mind; this was just meant to be a simple job and now you'd gone and made it confusing.

"Is that really what you want?" The one simple question had broken Shadow, he dropped the gun to the floor, staring hopelessly into the ground. He had failed Maria, looking at you had reminded him of her, the promise he made to her, the purpose he was supposed to have.

He was meant to protect mankind, to help them and instead, he led them to an earlier grave. Another sound rang out, snapping the pair's attention from each other onto a random doorway. An elderly man emerged from the house, looking up and down the street until his eyes landed on you both and then on the body.

"The boogeyman! The boogeyman's here! And he's got an accomplish!" he screamed out, suddenly more and more lights started flashing on, the whole village was nearly illuminated in bright yellow light. Shadow saw the panic on the young girl's face, he recognised that look all too well: Fear.

Her life as she knew it was crashing down all because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and it was all his fault. Taking what Maria said to heart, Shadow saw this as his second chance at life, his second chance to protect humanity and it all started with her. Swooping the lady into his arms, Shadow ran as fast as he could, he had to go somewhere where they'd both be safe.

The past few years after that had been a blur, things have changed since the old days, Shadow gets called friend, bud, hero and most importantly, he gets to be called the love of your life. Perhaps it was one of his best ideas to save you on that day, even if it was his fault. After that night, Shadow never left your side, perhaps it's because he felt guilty or that you reminded him of Maria; who knows?

But what you do know is that he's free now, free from all the negative thoughts, free from the names, and free from his past life.

#shadow the hedgehog #shadow the ultimate lifeform #shadow the hedgehog x reader #shadow the hedgehog idw #fandom #fan #fanfiction #fanfic #oneshot #reader #shadow x reader #sonic the hedgehog

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delicatebarness · 7 months ago

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cry baby | chapter twenty nine

Summary: Adrenaline courses through Cry Baby as she takes on some deep and needed conversation.

Warning: None, I don't think? Other than it being a Bucky-free chapter.

Word Count: 1266

Spotify Playlist | Support: Ko-FI

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A/N: I have nothing to say with this one, except MY GIRL HAS A BACKBONE. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as mine. - B

Your feelings were a mixture of emotions when you woke you the morning after the art exhibition. Bucky’s absence and your revelation of your feelings for him weighed heavily despite the success of your show. You began getting ready to leave for the gallery again, hoping the familiar surroundings and schedule would bring some distractions. However, more than anything, you wanted to talk to your brother.

You took a deep breath, picked up your phone, and sent him a message: “Can you meet me at the gallery? I need my brother.”

His response was quick, he agreed to meet you there. The gallery was quiet, a stark contrast to the lively celebration from the night before, as you arrived first. The art pieces stood silently, every pen stroke a testament to your hard work and passion.

A few minutes later, Steve walked in with a concerned expression. “Hey,” he said softly. “What’s going on?”

Emotions swirled within you as you turned to face him. “I’m not over what you did,” you began, the turmoil inside you betraying your voice causing it to tremble. “But, I really need my brother right now.”

Stepping closer, Steve’s eyes softened. “I’m here for you,” he assured, reaching out and gently squeezing your shoulder with a small smile. “Tell me what’s going on.”

You hesitated, taking a deep breath as you tried to find the right words. “I’m in love with Bucky.” Your words hung in the air, undeniable and heavy.

Steve’s jaw clenched, as his face tightened with anger. “What did you just say?”

“I love Bucky,” you repeated, your voice was firm.

“Do you know how many times I’ve had to stop him?” he mumbled, anger flaring visibly. “How many times he crossed the line?”

You stared at him, confusion etched in your face. “What are you talking about?”

His face could barely contain his fury, his fists clenched at his sides. “Every time I thought he was getting too close, I made sure he knew his place. I did it to protect you.”

The realization of his words hit you like a freight train. Memories of all those times Bucky would turn up at your apartment with new cuts, new bruises. “You… you were the one beating him all these years?”

Steve’s eyes widened, and shock filled them as he realized his slip-up. “I was trying to keep you safe,” he said, his voice softening, trembling with anger and regret. “He’s not right for you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, anger and frustration consuming you. “You don’t get to decide that for me, Steve! You don’t get to control my life like that!”

“I was trying to protect you!” Steve’s voice raised, his voice straining with emotion. “He’s my best friend, if anyone knows he’s not good for you, it’s me! I’ve seen what he’s capable of.”

“You’ve seen what he’s capable of because you pushed him to it!” you snapped back at him. “You beat him up every time you thought he was getting close to me? And, do you think that’s okay? You think that’s protecting me?”

The realization of his actions dawned on him, you had never seen Steve look so taken back. “I… I didn’t mean to…”

“But you did,” you interrupted, your voice beginning to break. “It’s not your decision to make. I love you, Stevie, but if you want to be a part of my life, you need to stop trying to fucking control it. I’m in love with Bucky, and that is my choice.”

The silence between you grew heavy, filled with the weight of your words hanging in the air. Steve looked at you, regret and stubbornness warred on his expression. It seemed for a moment like he might argue back, but then he simply nodded.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “For everything. I’ll try to let it go. I just… I’ve always just wanted to protect you.”

Stepping forward, you wrapped your arms around your brother tightly. “I know. But, you have to trust me to make my own choices. That’s what we do, we trust each other.”

Steve hugged you back, his grip strong and desperate. “I’ll try. I promise.”

A weight lifted off your shoulders as you pulled away. The gap between you was far from resolved, but it was a start. And for now, that was enough.

You were left feeling both empowered and vulnerable as the adrenaline from your conversation with Steve coursed through you. You knew what you had to do next, you needed to act on your promises, and you couldn’t keep Peter in the dark any longer.

As you walked into the cafe you arranged to meet him at, your mind began to race. On the way, you rehearsed what you were going to say, and how you were going to explain your feelings. The adrenaline pushes you forward, giving you the strength you need.

Just as before, Peter was already seated at the corner table. There was a knowing look in his eyes, making your heart ache, as his expression stayed calm.

“Peter,” you began, your vice trembling slightly as you sat with him. “I need to talk to you about something.”

His gaze was gentle and understanding as he looked at you. “I know,” his soft voice cut you off before you could continue.

Confusion washed over you. “What do you mean?”

He sighed, a small sad smile playing on his lips. “I know you’re not in love with me. And I know you’ve tried to be, but… I’m not him. I’m not Bucky.”

His words sank in, tears welling in your eyes. “Peter, I’m so sorry. I truly never wanted to hurt you.”

Reaching across the table, he rested his hand on yours reassuringly. “I know you didn’t. I’ve seen it for a while now, the way you look at him. Your eyes light up when you talk about him… It’s always been him, hasn’t it?”

The tears spilled down your cheeks as you nodded. “It has. But, I didn’t realize until last night.”

Squeezing your hand gently, Peter continued to speak softly. “I want you to be happy, and I can’t be the one to make you happy if your heart belongs to someone else.”

You nodded again. “I’m so sorry, Peter,” you whispered, your voice choking with emotion.

Another reassuring smile was sent your way. “It’s okay. I’ll always care about you, and even if it’s not with me, I want you to be happy.”

Pulling your hand back, you wiped away your tears. “You deserve to be with someone who is truly in love with you. You’re a good man, Peter, and you’ve been such an important part of my life.”

“And you mine,” he replied softly. “We’ll always have that.”

You both stood up to leave, Peter pulled you into a tight hug. “Take care of yourself,” he murmured.

“You too,” you replied, tightening your hold on him for a moment longer before finally letting go.

Walking toward the cafe door, you felt a strange mixture of sadness and relief. The adrenaline still lingered, causing you to turn back to Peter.

“Peter?” you called out, causing him to look up from his coffee cup. “I like Michelle.” His eyes flickered with surprise, a smile forming on his lips after a beat.

With a final nod toward him, you turned and walked out of the cafe. The sense of closure settles in your heart. As you stepped onto the bustling city sidewalk, you knew you had made the right decision for both you and Peter.

---

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snailsgoingdowntown · 2 months ago

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Help, I Reincarnated as the Female Lead’s Sister-in-Law!

1 2 3 4 5 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16

Chapter 6

‘Slight’ Yandere! Dion Agriche x Fem! Reader

Arranged marriage AU

Warnings: implied possessive and obsessive themes/actions/behaviors/thoughts, reader is one second away from having a panic attack, indirect mention of death, mention of murder, implied toxic family/child abuse, very, very light choking, mention/possible stalking, Toxic marriage/relationship, Reader is so done mentally despite only living in the Argece mansion for one (1) day, Reader becomes sassy, jealousy, everyone ooc

NSFW warnings: Very suggestive, throw back to their first time, implied dacryphilia

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT CONDONE ANY OF THE HARMFUL AND/OR DANGEROUS ACTIONS AND/OR BEHAVIORS THAT MAY TAKE PLACE IN THIS PIECE OF FICTION. THESE ACTIONS/BEHAVIORS SHOULD NOT BE NORMALIZED NOR ROMANTICIZED AS THEY ARE THEY ARE BOTH ARE EXTREMELY TOXIC AND DANGEROUS

MINORS/BLANK BLOGS/BLOGS THAT DON’T INTERACT/REBLOG WITH FANDOM STUFF DNI AND PLEASE DO NOT SPAM LIKE MY POSTS

= = =

“You never once referred to Dion as your husband.”

“P-pardon?”

That caught you off guard. Frankly speaking, calling the man your husband aloud is stomach-turning. Not that you would admit that, or rather not that you could. The punishment you would receive from Lant if it were to ever reach his ears…

“Well, we haven’t been married for even a week.” Carefully explaining yourself, you scan behind her to check if anyone was there. “So, I am still a bit shy about it.” You smile shyly. Blood rushes through your veins and you can hear the thundering pumping and feel it.

Your blood becomes ice and skin slime as Roxana observes your behavior and reaction before making a move. Fresh coral lips tug into a soft smile as Roxana sees past your lie and stares into your soul. Her eyes remind you of your husband’s; glowing scarlet that curtains their true emotions and thoughts.

Sinister or otherwise, you’re afraid to drown in them.

“I see. That’s adorable.” She reminds you of a venus fly trap; inviting only to trap you. Even so, her ‘affection’ towards you nearly has you tripping on your feet. No. This is how she gets people.

“Lady Roxana, I had a fun time speaking with you.” You halfheartedly bid her farewell, bowing. You plan on walking the moment you raise your head. What you don’t plan on doing, however, is returning to your chambers immediately.

Ah, but… where would you even go?

“Oh, right. Do you remember the way?” she blinks at you while you blink back. Your mind is a void - absolutely nothing in it. Next, she laughs.

It sounds like bells on Christmas, a chorus in the church, that exciting and relieved feeling you get once you hear ‘shift’s over,’ from the managers. Head full of cotton, you allow yourself to simply enjoy this moment. Once the blissful laughter has ended, she offers to guide you.

Personally.

“O-oh, it’s fine - “ you just got mind fucked - Roxana willingly go anywhere near Dion’s room? Something’s not right. You take a step back.

“I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.” You give her a faux smile, worried.

Worried for what? Your safety? The possible argument that could break out between the two half-siblings? Seeing something you’re not supposed to? Or having to awkwardly stand to the side as Dion acts weirdly and creepy towards his sister?

“It’s fine; I’d like to get to know you more. We’re family now, so it’s natural.”

We’re family now.

“...I’ll accept then. Thank you for taking care of me.” The scream that wishes to burst from your chest, the saliva drowning your gums and mouth, the quiver that threatens to take over your body - you hold it back. You have to.

“It’s not a problem.”

Fear prevents you from asking about Hana.

You follow once she starts to walk, the sound of heels hitting the floor echoing. Even her back is elegant - perfect form, back straight and head up. Carrying an air of sophistication and confidence, Roxana Agriche deserves the female lead role. Her blond waves lightly bounce with each step.

She is the definition of beauty.

And as a dedicated fan - also driven by fear and mental stress - you will stay steps behind her. It’s for the best, it’s for your safety. Walk in her shadow but not at her side. Let the spotlight shine on her so you won’t be noticed, left alone by anyone and everyone. That is one plan for survival.

“Oh? Sorry, I didn’t realize that you were behind me.” The fifteen-year-old girl waits for you to join her side after stopping, refusing to walk another inch until you do so. And your eighteen-year-old self hesitates - not because you feel inferior to her. God no, but because her mind is a puzzle you can’t solve.

You don’t have the power to read her thoughts. You are only able to guess.

This isn’t fiction anymore.

“It’s fine. I was also lost in thought.” Busy with admiring her rather. You pick up your pace a bit if only to please her. She resumes guiding you once you’re right by her. Nothing falls into place despite observing her from the corner of your eye. You don’t sense anything.

No hostility nor mischief. There wasn’t a hint of pity on her face. Mockery was also absent, genuine joy nonexistent.

“If I may say, you’re more lovely than I heard.” She compliments you, offering another one of those sweet smiles. And like the fool you are, you trip over both your feet and words.

“A-ah, you’re too kind. If anything, the saying goes towards you.” Your neck feels hot and your mind is turning to mush. “Truly, you are indeed an interesting person.”

She stops again, taken aback. But she quickly recovers before returning back to the conversation. “Interesting? You’re the first person to describe me as such.”

“That’s a surprise. I thought many would have.” You think about it. What was the first thing everyone notices about Roxana? Her beauty, of course.

But, as a reader, how could you ignore and forget her personality?

…then again, this entire time you were mentally obsessing over her appearance and voice. You were no better than everyone else.

You take a turn in the ridiculously long hallway. Just for a moment, tranquility replaces the harshness of reality. Funny.

One moment you’re afraid of her and the next she brings you peace. She’s a bit easier to deal with than Dion. Softer, gentler, and outwards she is humane. The most sane family member in this hell.

“We’re in the main hallway.” Roxana informs, and the staircase looks familiar. When you had made your way with Hana to the dining room, you were disorienting so hard you didn’t even realize your feet were moving.

“Up these stairs and we’ll be closer to your room.” Roxana tells you, a hint of disgust in her voice. Aha. So she doesn’t want to go near him. Then why guide you?

“Oh,” you say, “how nice.” How wonderful indeed, seeing the husband who left after your first night, who’s acting weird, who’s brutal personality is hidden beneath a layer of indifference, who probably stalked you while -

Oh.

Oh God.

“? Are you okay? You look pale.”

Roxana’s question brings you back to reality. Blinking, you try to calm yourself before your breathing gets heavier. Your heart won’t stop rattling. Your blood won’t stop rushing. Your ears are ringing.

Never once did you think of the possibility that Dion Agriche had stalked you during the duration of your engagement. The shampoo, the sheets, that horrifying look in his eyes -

“Oh. Oh, yes, of course. I’m just a bit… nervous.” Did he stalk you? If so, why? To drill even more fear into you, to show you that he could easily cause you harm? To silently threaten the safety of your family if you were to ever act out?

“But yes, I’m fine. Just need a minute to gather myself.”

Either out of curiosity or obligation, or even consideration, Roxana lets you do just that.

- - -

You got to the door sooner than wanted. Way too soon.

Despite the show your sister-in-law displays, she can’t hide the disgust and hatred in her eyes as she stares at the heavy double doors. You don’t blame her. Even if he acted out on orders, your husband still killed her brother. Their brother.

He also attempts to harm her mother. Just to see her cry.

…would he do the same to you?

“Well,” turning to her, you show a smile. It doesn’t reach your eyes. You’re too tired to even try. “Thank you for showing me the way.”

You open the door before she could even get a word out. Shut it behind you before every single ounce of bravery evaporates, leaving you a slimy mess. Monster or not, Dion Agriche is still your husband. And, as you were raised, you have to play the role of his wife.

His pretty, little, obedient wife.

Only to see that no-one is in the room.

“...haha…wow…hahaha!” like a mad woman you giggle, falling to the floor as your legs give out. Was it from stress? Relief? Does it matter?

You’re happy - you don’t have to see his face for a bit longer. Even if it’s only for a minute, you don’t have to be in his presence. But with happiness comes realization - Dion will eventually show up. He told you such.

“...I… I just want to sleep.” Your shoulders slump as you become boneless - so much happened within the span of a few hours. Odd behavior, old memories, confusing feelings - you’re not meant for this environment. Forget about being murdered or tortured - your mind would dismantle before anything could happen.

The floor is uncomfortable but all of your strength is gone. Were you always this weak? This hopeless? So much that you couldn’t even last a single day. Pathetic.

“...” ahead of you is the bed. The same bed you lost your virginity on. The same bed you will have to share with your arranged husband. It was comfortable, but the fact you laid with Dion on it makes you sick.

You’d rather sleep on the floor.

Moonlight fills the room from the glassdoors closing off the terrace. Jeremy said you should escape. Is it worth it? Was jumping off the terrace to attempt an escape worth it? Would you survive it?

Get caught?

Die?

Your mind is becoming muddy. You haven’t even met with Lant yet. The worst of the worst. Yet here you are, already thinking foolishly. Of course you would be caught. Dying wasn’t something you wanted to do, though. Neither was being punished for attempting an escape.

Your ears perk at the sound of the door opening behind you.

“Do you find the floor more comfortable than the bed?” Voice low and deep, Dion doesn’t even properly greet you. Well, not like you want to either.

You want to tell him to try it in spite. But you’re too tired to even turn around and face him, much less stand. His footsteps get closer until he’s right behind you. Your eyes shut close.

“Wife.” He calls once, and you don’t respond. You don’t want to.

You want him to stop calling you that. You want him to stop talking to you. You want him to stop existing.

His footsteps echo in the room before he kneels in front of you. Finally, you look at him. What type of expression are you making?

His hand is cold as he brings it up to cup your cheek. Scarlet that glows in the moonlight that looks at you in such a strange way. Do you know what was swirling in his eyes? Do you want to?

“...Dion. Welcome back.” acknowledging him, you peel his hand away from your cheek. He already touched you the night before. That’s enough.

Instead of leaving, he grasps your wrist. Firm enough to where you couldn’t tug your hand away. You eye it before giving up. Just for now.

“I’m sorry, but i’m too sore from last night,” you say, assuming that sex is on his mind. Obligation, lust, routine. Either one could be the reason.

“I’m not here for that. Nor do I want it.”

Your head tilts to the side before he continues. “Father expects us to dine with him tomorrow.”

“I see. Is that all?”

“You look dead,” free hand cupping your face - again - Dion gently swipes his thumb under your eye. “Worse than when you showed up for dinner.” Hah. Is he enjoying himself?

“I’m just tired,” lying your eyes travel to your lap. “I’ll… if that’s all, then I’ll retire to bed.” You want him to leave you alone. You want to go home.

On shaky legs you force yourself up and your husband lets go of your wrist. Your knees buck as you walk towards the bed. It’s fine. It’s going to be fine. All you need to do is make it to bed. Changing clothes isn’t even on your mind - you just want to lay down.

“You’re not going to change?” Your husband inquiries. What was wrong with this man? He barely spoke a word to you before the wedding. He left after cumming and leaving you alone, in pain and shivering like a fucking newborn foal. He didn’t spare a fucking glance at you during dinner until his siblings showed up.

“Where is Hana?” You ignore his question, focusing on the one person who doesn’t feel like a death trap.

“She retired for the night. On Roxana’s orders.”

“What? Why?” you almost get whiplash from how hard and fast you turn your head to look at Dion. Your husband has been looking at you this entire time.

“She didn’t think I’d show up here.”

I wish you didn’t. I wish you would have stayed indifferent as you were until today.

“Oh. Then, I’ll just sleep like this.” Flopping onto the bed, you kick your heels off. The corset is still tight, and it makes it harder to breathe. But you refuse to ask him for help.

Thankfully, your husband makes no move to. Instead you hear him walk and the sound of the closet opening. Ruffling of the clothes before it stops. From what you heard, nothing dropped to the floor, rather, heavy boots walk towards the bed until they stop right behind you.

Amazing how being so mentally and physically worn makes a person forget their survival instincts. How it makes fear turn into annoyance and gulps become huffs.

But annoyance becomes confusion when something soft and loose lands on your back. Did he just… throw something on you?

Why can’t your husband just pick a side? Decide to ignore you. To be nice to you. Not go back and forth like it’s a fucking swing boat.

“Wife,” there he goes again with that dreadful title, does he not remember your godforsaken name? “You won’t fall asleep with it on. You’re unable to.” You’re one second away from tearing your hair out. One second away from strangling him.

You can regret everything tomorrow.

“... Will you leave me alone if I change?” Supporting yourself on your shoulders you crane your neck to look over your shoulder. Your husband only nods, not explaining why he’s so insistent on having you change.

You’re so done that you don’t even realize he’s enjoying this side of you. Your frustration, your annoyance, all spent and directed towards him. Tomorrow, when you’re of clear mind you’ll freak out, kicking and yelling at yourself for risking making him mad, only to question why he didn’t say anything in the first place.

“I can’t reach behind my back,” you communicate to him, waiting for his reaction. A reply that may never come.

“Just lay face down. I’ll untie it and won’t touch you further.” You wish he would leave and maybe fall down the stairs and break something. Ah, but maybe Lant should go through that instead. Break his neck and lay there, lifeless. How would the scene play out after that?

“Alright,” you give in, preparing for a war that doesn’t exist. Dion removes whatever he threw onto your back before nimble fingers quickly and carefully undo the strings on your dress. Once he’s done with that, he works on the corset, completely gentle.

Wait, something wasn’t right.

“Wait, how do you know how to undo the strings so quickly?” Waiting for his answer, you don’t make an effort to watch his reaction. You’d rather not look at the man who’s walking on thin ice right now. Yes, you are going to consider chucking yourself into the nearest river tomorrow. If you could find one.

“... I was taught.”

“By?”

“A teacher.”

He leaves it at that, choosing to leave out the details. It makes you suspicious. …was he also taught those techniques by a so-called teacher too?

Considering the amount of wives Lant has, STDs most likely don’t exist in this world. Regardless, the mere thought of your husband sleeping with someone before you irritates you. Not because you were jealous or anything of that sort, no; but because it was hypercritical. You were expected to stay ‘pure,’ a virgin while -

“You are the only person I’ve touched, much less slept with.” Was he a mind reader? Or were you just that obvious?

“As your wife, I think I should meet and thank your ‘teacher.’” Exhaustion does wonders to a person. The brain doesn’t work as it should and fright is no longer a thing. Instead it’s replaced by reckless behavior and a clouded mind.

“Although, I do wish they also taught you aftercare.”

“That person,” Dion begins, “is someone you know but are unable to see.” Sure Dion Agriche, sure. “As for afterwards… Father called for me.”

“Mhm. For what?” Cold fingertips barely graze your spine as he looks at your skin. By now everything was untied yet the male doesn’t move. With lidded eyes he considers biting it. But he’s already breaking his promise by granting himself the pleasure to graze it.

And you’re giving him a pass, perhaps with a blurred mind. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be having this conversation, much less show something other than fear in his presence.

“To discuss further action regarding our marriage.”

“You know,” you yawn out, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, “most people in arranged marriages would refer to the marriage as ‘this,’ not ‘ours.’” The call of sleep is tempting you.

“I’m not most people.”

“I know. If you were then you…”

“Then what?”

Then you wouldn’t be a product of two insane and mental people. You wouldn’t be so jaded nor affection starved to the point you consider hatred as it. You wouldn’t have killed your own siblings or live solely to make one cry. You wouldn’t wander around the earth until your sister decides to kill you.

You change the subject. “You could have let me finish at least once. It was my first time - you’re supposed to make it a positive experience.” Why you brought this up, you’re not sure. You doubt he feels guilty about it.

“...Should I make you now?” He traces your spine, the cold sensation making you shiver. Odd. His touch doesn’t feel as gross as earlier. You must be going mad.

Even more so since you’re hallucinating the hint of hunger in his voice.

“No. I hated the entire thing. Just jerk off and I’ll shove it in, or something.” The idea of his cum going anywhere near you repulses you, but you understand your role as a wife. His wife.

“You also found my crying cute. I don’t like that, I actually hate it.” Was communication always this easy when your body is boneless and mind worn? Was he so talkative because he’s tired as well?

“I can’t help it, “ Dion rubs circles between your shoulder blades and it makes you melt. For a split second, you forgot who you’re talking to. Where you were, who your husband was, your in-laws forgotten. For a moment, everything was ordinary and domestic.

“I enjoy seeing you cry.” His fingers travel higher until they are at the sides of your neck, feeling your pulse. He wants to squeeze it, see you squirm. The urge to make you cry over and over again from overstimulation gets harder to resist. You’re allowing him to touch you, to see the skin of your back, to see you so vulnerable - surely, you could offer him a taste too, right?

“...You’re not supposed to be this way.” A light chuckle comes from your chest. “You’re supposed to be brutal, selfish, unredeemable - well, you probably still are, but still. You’re not supposed to be married nor basically asking your wife to fuck.”

You go on.

“You’re not supposed to be this way. You’re driving me crazy, acting so different from what I know.” You’re supposed to be the character that was written in the series. Not… whatever this is.

Maybe you misunderstood his character. But you never did finish the novel and the webtoon was put on hiatus because of the shit the artist went through… you hope she’s doing better now. Way better.

“Even Jeremy and Roxana are behaving weirdly.” You leave it at that, becoming silent. Dion doesn’t say anything.

You decide to ask him a question that’s been nagging you ever since he mentioned his ‘teacher.’

“Oh, by the way… how would you react if I also had a ‘teacher’?” An undertone of teasing laced your voice - of course, you didn’t mean it. Unless it was a lover, you wouldn’t sleep with anyone outside of marriage. Although, you never did enter a relationship once prior to your engagement.

The atmosphere becomes stiff. You suddenly remember who you’re dealing with - an Agriche. Dion Agriche, to be exact.

Horror spreads throughout your body once you realize just what you asked him. Your breath catches in your throat as you feel him lean over you, fingers putting slight pressure on your neck, a silent threat to choke you. He’s like a heavy cover, you can barely breathe.

When he talks it’s lower and deeper, sinister and possessive, his breath hitting your ear as he answers.

“Easy. I would kill them.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #dion x reader #dion agriche #dion argece #dion agriche x reader #dion agrece x reader #yandere dion x reader #yandere dion agrece x reader #yandere dion agriche x reader #twtptflob #the way to protect the female lead's older brother #yandere twtptfob #twtptflob x reader #roxana

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melolord14 · 6 months ago

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For All Eternity - part 2

Here is the second part of For All Eternity. If you haven't read part one, you can find the link here. Masterlist

Part 1

Warning : angst

Alcina woke up with a massive hangover, a sensation she never thought she could experience. The pounding in her head was relentless, and she groaned as she tried to piece together the events of the previous night. She turned to the side of the bed where you usually slept, but it was cold and empty. Panic set in. Did you not come back home? Did you stay over at Donna's?

Slowly, Alcina got out of bed and looked down at herself. She was naked, and as fragments of memories started to resurface, her heart sank. No, she couldn't have. Did you know?

She glanced again at your side of the bed, picturing your small body cuddled up against her larger frame. The absence was palpable, a void that filled her with dread. Shaking her head, she knew she had to get ready for the day. She sat at her vanity mirror, staring at her reflection. Her eyes widened as she noticed the love bites scattered across her skin. How had she done that to you?

"What have I done?" she whispered to herself, her voice trembling with disgust and regret. She had hurt you. Did you know?

With a heavy heart, Alcina made her way down for breakfast. The moment she entered the dining room, the lively chatter of her daughters ceased, replaced by an uncomfortable silence.

"Good morning, daughters," she greeted them, trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy. Her eyes scanned the room, searching for you, but your chair was empty.

Daniela was the first to break the silence. "Mother, how could you do that to Mama?" she demanded, her voice laced with accusation. Alcina's heart sank further, her confusion evident.

"Mother, why did you do that? Mama loves you so much, you broke her heart," Cassandra added, her voice quiet and filled with sorrow. Bela watched her younger sisters, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. The room was heavy with emotion, and Alcina felt the weight of her actions crushing her.

She opened her mouth to speak, to explain, but the words wouldn't come. The realization of what she had done, how deeply she had hurt you, was overwhelming. She had to find you, to make things right, but the fear of facing you, of seeing the pain in your eyes, was almost too much to bear.

Bela pulled out the letter and the ring. As soon as Alcina saw it, she knew you had heard it, you were here last night. "Here. This is from Mama. You better make it up to her," Bela said as she handed her the letter. Everyone grew quiet.

"Thank you, daughters. You are excused; you may have fun with the maids from last night... the one I was with," she said sadly. The daughters swarmed out of the room. They went off to find the maid who had hurt their mama.

Alcina went upstairs into her room. She sat at her vanity, her hands shaking. She was afraid. She opened your letter and began to read.

---

My little bugs,

I love you all so dearly. I am sorry for the way things turned out. I would've loved to marry your mother, but it seems that she doesn't want me. I know that you will give this to your mother, but it's alright. Bela, remember not to push yourself too much.

Cassandra, please know that I'll be here for you—all of you—but when I'm not, go to your sisters or mother for help when you need it. Daniela, my dear, don't get into too much trouble. Don't give your mother a hard time, my dear. I'll be watching all of you for a long time, but know that I am still with you in my heart and that I love you for eternity. Nothing will keep me from loving you.

Forever, your Mama

---

Alcina,

I know you are reading this. I gave you back my ring. I hope you find someone who will love you like I did. I wish you nothing but the best, my love. I wish that I could've called you my wife. Maybe there is still a little hope left for us—just maybe... or not.

Y/N

---

Alcina screamed as she held your letter. "Why does everything always end like this?" she cried out, her voice echoing through the empty room. Could she get you back? Maybe you were already gone. No, she could not think like this. She would fix this.

"I'm sorry, draga mea. I will fix this, I promise," she said aloud, her fist tightly around your ring. Tears streamed down her face as she stared at the letter, her heart aching with a mixture of hope and despair. She knew she had to fight for you, to make things right. With a deep breath, she resolved to do whatever it took to mend the broken pieces of her heart and win you back.

It has been a week since the incident, and the lingering sense of solitude still clings to you. As you gaze down at your empty finger, once adorned with a ring, you let out a heavy sigh and allow your thoughts to drift. How could she have betrayed you like this? Why did this have to happen to you?

"Y/N, are you up? I have breakfast for you," Miranda said as she opened the door and walked in. She put the tray of food down on your nightstand, her eyes filled with concern.

"Mother, I've been thinking..." you start, your voice trembling slightly. You want the parasite. Taking the coda would mean you would live forever and you could be by Miranda's side, never having to part from her.

"I want to take the... Caduo. I want to be by your side," you finally said, your eyes pleading with her to understand.

"No," she said sternly, her tone leaving no room for argument.

"But why-"

"Because it can be dangerous, I do not know the outcome of this. I will not rush losing you," she said to you with a soft but yet stern voice, her eyes softening as she looked at you.

"But I can survive, I know I can, Mother, please," you pleaded, desperation creeping into your voice.

"No, that's the end of this," she said, her voice firm. You crossed your arms and pouted at her, hoping to sway her decision.

"That'll not work on me, little one. Now get ready and eat. We have a meeting to go to," she said as she left the room, her words echoing in your mind. You started getting ready for the day, feeling a mix of frustration and determination.

After the shower, you put on the dress that was laid out on your bed before you got up. You ate breakfast quickly, the food tasting bland compared to the turmoil in your heart. Then, you took the dirty dishes and the tray downstairs to wash them, trying to keep your mind off the conversation.

"Mother, I'm ready when you are," you shouted, your voice carrying through the house.

"Good, let's get going then," Miranda replied, her voice echoing back. You followed her, still feeling a bit frustrated but knowing that she had your best interests at heart. As you walked beside her, you couldn't help but think about the future and what it might hold for both of you.

As you and Miranda approached the imposing structure of the church, its ancient stone façade loomed above you, casting long shadows in the fading light of the evening. The air was thick with anticipation, a palpable tension that seemed to vibrate through the very ground beneath your feet. You could hear the distant echo of footsteps and hushed whispers as other attendees began to gather for the meeting. The atmosphere was charged with an unspoken urgency, as if everyone presents understood that this gathering held significant weight.

Miranda, ever vigilant and protective, turned to you with a serious expression etched across her features. “Now little one,” she said softly yet firmly, “I want you to sit next to me, alright? And stay close to me.” Her voice was laced with an intensity that made it clear she would not tolerate any deviation from her directive. You nodded in agreement, feeling a mixture of comfort and anxiety wash over you. The warmth of her presence provided a sense of security amidst the uncertainty that lay ahead.

As more people began to arrive, you could feel your heart rate quicken. Each new face brought with it a wave of curiosity and apprehension. Among them were figures cloaked in mystery and authority—the four lords who were expected to preside over this meeting. Yet, despite their absence at that moment, your attention was drawn elsewhere.

Suddenly, the heavy wooden doors creaked open, and Alcina stepped into view. She had always possessed an aura of elegance and power that commanded attention; today was no different. With her striking features framed by cascading dark hair and an outfit that accentuated her commanding presence, she entered like a queen surveying her court. It was impossible not to notice her—she had an uncanny ability to draw eyes toward her.

As Alcina scanned the room, her gaze landed on you. In that instant, time seemed to slow down; your heart raced uncontrollably as emotions surged within you—a tumultuous blend of longing and fear. Memories flooded your mind: moments shared in laughter and joy juxtaposed against those filled with pain and heartbreak. You felt an overwhelming urge to run up to her, to bridge the distance between you two with a warm embrace that would erase all doubts and fears.

But Miranda’s watchful eyes remained fixed on Alcina as well; there was no mistaking the protective stance she took beside you. She would not allow Alcina’s past transgressions against your heart to repeat themselves—not while she had any say in the matter. Miranda’s grip tightened slightly on your arm as if sensing your internal struggle.

As more figures began filtering into the church—each one adding layers of complexity to this already intricate web—you could feel a collective energy building within the space. Conversations hummed quietly around you like bees buzzing in a garden full of vibrant flowers; each word exchanged carried weight and significance.

You shifted slightly in your seat next to Miranda, trying desperately to maintain focus on what lay ahead rather than getting lost in thoughts about Alcina’s piercing gaze or what it might mean for both of you moving forward.

With every passing moment leading up to this meeting—the anticipation thickening like fog rolling over hills—you knew deep down that whatever transpired here tonight would alter everything forever.

The atmosphere in the room was thick with tension as the meeting finally reached its conclusion. Hours had passed, filled with discussions that ranged from strategic planning to emotional revelations. The air was heavy with anticipation, and everyone present could sense that a pivotal moment was about to unfold.

Mother Miranda stood at the forefront, her presence commanding respect and attention. Her voice broke through the murmurs as she addressed everyone gathered. “We will no longer be needing a vessel,” she declared, her tone resolute yet softened by an unexpected warmth. “I have come to realize that I can be happy with you all… and you, Y/N, you are like a daughter to me. No, you are my daughter; know that.” A small smile graced her lips, a rare display of affection that seemed to lighten the mood in the room.

With those words hanging in the air, a wave of relief washed over many of those present. The meeting had been fraught with uncertainty regarding their future roles and relationships within this complex web they had woven together. But now, it seemed there was a new beginning on the horizon—a chance for connection beyond mere obligation.

However, as people began to rise from their seats and exit the room, one figure remained still—Alcina Dimitrescu. Her towering presence loomed over the others as she approached you with purpose. Yet before she could reach you, Mother Miranda stepped forward protectively.

“Mother Miranda,” Alcina said firmly but respectfully, “may I have a word with Y/N?”

Miranda’s expression hardened slightly at Alcina’s request. “No Alcina,” she replied sternly. “After what you did to her, I simply cannot allow that.”

You felt a pang of conflict at Miranda’s words; Alcina had indeed caused you pain in the past, yet there was something about her demeanor now that intrigued you—a hint of vulnerability perhaps? You took a step forward and spoke up softly but assertively “Mother, please. Let her say what she has to.”

Miranda regarded you for a moment before relenting with an impatient sigh. “Fine,” she conceded reluctantly. “Go ahead Alcina.”

But Alcina wasn’t finished yet; her gaze shifted back to Miranda as she added earnestly, “Alone. In private. Could you please leave Mother Miranda?”

The request hung heavily in the air as both women stared each other down—two powerful figures caught in an unspoken battle of wills. You could feel your heart racing as your newfound mother glanced back at you over her shoulder for confirmation of your desire.

With a nod from you affirming your choice to speak privately with Alcina, Mother Miranda’s expression softened just slightly before she stepped aside reluctantly but resolutely.

Once alone with Alcina, an electric tension filled the space between you two—an amalgamation of past grievances and unspoken feelings swirling around like ghosts haunting an empty hall.

Alcina took a deep breath before speaking again; her voice was lower now, almost vulnerable compared to how it had been moments ago when addressing Miranda. “Y/N,” she began slowly, “I know things have been… complicated between us.” She paused for effect as if searching for the right words amidst a sea of emotions.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” Alcina continued earnestly. “What happened… What I did was wrong. I hurt you. The women I love. I don’t know what came over me.im truly sorry my love” Her eyes searched yours for understanding or perhaps forgiveness—a flicker of hope igniting within them.

You felt torn; memories flooded back—the fear and pain intertwined with moments where Alcina showed glimpses of care beneath her fierce exterior. “Why did it happen then?” You asked cautiously but firmly.

Alcina sighed deeply, the weight of years and regrets pressing heavily on her shoulders. Her eyes, usually so fierce and commanding, now seemed clouded with uncertainty and sorrow. She struggled to find the right words, fearing that anything she said might only make things worse.

"I was lost," she admitted finally, her voice barely above a whisper. Vulnerability etched itself across her features, like delicate cracks in porcelain, threatening to shatter completely under the pressure of her emotions. "I thought power would fill this void inside me," Alcina continued, her gaze shifting away momentarily as if she were ashamed or reflecting on the choices that had brought them both to this painful moment. "I'm sorry, my love."

You stared at her, your heart aching with a mixture of anger and sorrow. "Sometimes a sorry doesn't work, Lady Dimitrescu," you replied, your voice calm but laced with a deep hurt. "You have hurt me in more than one way. I thought you loved me, Alcina. Did I do something wrong for you to fuck that maid? Did I not love you enough?"

Alcina's eyes filled with tears, her usually unshakeable demeanor crumbling before your eyes. "No, you did nothing wrong," she whispered, her voice trembling. "It was my own weakness, my own insecurities that led me astray. I thought that by exerting power, I could fill the emptiness inside me. But I was wrong, and I hurt the one person who means the most to me."

You shook your head, feeling the sting of betrayal all over again. "I think you should leave, Alcina," you said, turning on your heels and starting to walk away from her, each step feeling like a small victory over the pain she had caused.

"Please, Y/N," Alcina's voice broke through your resolve, stopping you in your tracks. "Come home. I'll do anything for your forgiveness. For your trust. For your love. I'll do anything, please come back home and give me this chance to make things right."

Her desperate plea made you pause, your heart torn between the love you once felt and the pain of her betrayal. You turned to face her, seeing the sincerity and desperation in her eyes. "I'll do anything," she whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions.

You stared at her for a long moment, the silence between you heavy with unspoken words and lingering hurt. Finally, you let out a sigh, feeling the exhaustion of your inner turmoil. "Fine," you agreed reluctantly, deciding to go back to the castle with her. "Don't make me regret this," you warned, your voice tinged with a mix of caution and vulnerability.

As you walked away to find Miranda, your mind raced with conflicting emotions, unsure of what the future held for you and Alcina. The path ahead was uncertain, but for now, you had chosen to give her one last chance.

"Mother, there's something important I need to tell you," you say as you nervously stand in front of her.

"What is it, Y/N?" she asks, giving you a curious look and glancing toward Alcina.

You take a deep breath, knowing that she might not react well to what you're about to say. "I've made a decision. I'm going back to the castle," you finally admit, watching as confusion crosses her face.

"No," she responds firmly.

"I'm sure about this, please," you plead with her, hoping she'll understand.

"Are you sure about this, little one?" she asked, her voice filled with a mixture of concern and hesitation. Her eyes darted from you to Alcina, lingering on the imposing figure behind you. The tension in the air was palpable, a heavy cloak of uncertainty and unresolved emotions.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of your decision pressing down on you. "Yes, Mother," you replied, your voice steady but tinged with underlying doubt. "I know it's not going to be easy, and I know there are risks. But I need to give her one more chance. I need to see if there's still something worth saving."

Your mother's gaze softened, her expression shifting from worry to a reluctant understanding. "I see," she said quietly, her eyes reflecting a depth of emotion that words couldn't fully capture. "Just promise me you'll be careful. I don't want to see you get hurt again."

"I promise," you said, trying to reassure her as much as yourself. You turned to Alcina, who was watching the exchange with a mixture of hope and apprehension. "Let's go," you said to her, your voice firm but gentle.

As you walked away with Alcina, you felt a complex swirl of emotions—hope, fear, and cautious optimism. The path ahead was uncertain, but you were determined to face it, one step at a time.

You walked alongside Alcina as she led the way back to her carriage. She kindly offered to help you into the carriage, but you declined her assistance. She let out a heavy sigh as she closed the door after you, and the carriage began its journey to Castle Dimitrescu.

As the carriage rolled along, Alcina couldn't help but yearn to hold you close. She knew it was her fault that she had lost you. Not being able to embrace you, caress you, or even kiss you was her self-imposed punishment.

Sensing her intense gaze on you, you met her eyes with a curious expression. Upon closer observation, you noticed the weariness in her eyes and the fatigue evident in her appearance. Her restless hand fidgeted with her dress, seemingly struggling to contain the desire to touch you.

Upon arriving at the castle, you marveled at its magnificence. Though the castle had always been breathtaking, Alcina's presence surpassed its beauty, resembling a true goddess. A smile touched your lips at the mere thought.

As you stepped into the castle, the delightful sound of buzzing filled the air. Within moments, you found yourself enveloped in the warm embrace of the awaiting residents, eager to welcome you back.

"Mama, you're back!" the three of them exclaimed in unison, their voices filled with joy and relief.

"I'm back, my little bugs," you said, smiling warmly at them. "Now please, let go of me. I can't breathe!" You chuckled as their tight embrace loosened, allowing you to take a deep breath.

The girls reluctantly stepped back, their eyes still shining with happiness. "We missed you so much, Mama," one of them said, her voice tinged with emotion.

"I missed you too, my darlings," you replied, brushing a gentle hand over each of their heads. "But I'm here now, and we have plenty of time to catch up."

Just then, Alcina stepped forward, her tall figure casting a shadow over the room. "Y/N, I... can we talk?" she asked, her voice conveying urgency.

You nodded, understanding the gravity of the moment. "Off you go, girls," you told them gently. "We'll spend time together later. Right now, I need to have a conversation with your mother."

The girls pouted but obeyed, each planting a quick kiss on your cheeks before scampering off. "We'll be waiting, Mama!" they called out as they disappeared down the hallway.

You turned to Alcina, your expression serious but open. "What is it, Alcina?" you asked, your voice steady. "What do we need to talk about?"

Alcina took a deep breath, her eyes meeting yours with a mixture of determination and vulnerability. "It's about us, Y/N. About everything that's happened and what comes next."

You nodded, feeling the weight of the conversation ahead. "Alright," you said softly. "Let's talk."

Sorry y’all. I’m leaving you on a cliffhanger.

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spookymystery67 · 3 months ago

Text

I Wish I Could Walk in Heels

AN: Alright, finally got this one done! It's a longer chapter than what I've been putting out recently so I hope you all enjoy it. Take it as an apology to make up for my slacking. I had planned to get it done in October, but then I got really hyperfixated on the live action and anime One Piece (still am to be honest). About 109 episodes in on the anime and have A LOT more to go lol. Anyways, enjoy!

Ps, this chapter is a little angsty. Little bit. At least I think it is. Also has gun violence and typical RE stuff. I noticed I gave up on the TW so hope none of you got traumatized. I don't think I write anything too crazy. We should all know what we've signed up for by now, right?

Chapter 23:

“My, you are a popular one, Luis.”

Ada's comment rang very true. Your eyes struggled to see through the harsh rain from the storm that seemed to appear so suddenly. Even so, you could still see the torches and hear the angry chanting of the villagers surrounding the house you and Ada were supposed to meet Luis at. If you had to guess, nearly every infected citizen of Los Iluminados was in attendance of your little get together.

“I don't remember inviting them to the party.” You half-heartedly joked as you ran along Ada's side, falling slightly behind her once you reached a rickety old, wood and rope bridge that groaned and creaked too much for comfort. “You?”

Your love huffed a weak smile, but could not respond when a sudden and harsh shake of the ground shook the fragile bridge and sent you both scrambling for something stable to balance and hold on to, so as to not fall to your doom.

Another shake.

You both glanced behind you.

Another.

This time closer. Something big is coming.

Ada tightly grabbed hold of you for what seemed like the millionth time in one night, grappling you both to the closest and safest roof top and off the bridge. This, somehow, gathered the attention of some of the villagers.

You stared in disbelief at the snarling giant that walked into the, already chaotic, scene.

“What in the actual fuck is that?” Even with all your prior experience with what should be impossible creatures, you are still somehow always shocked and horrified by something new.

At least you were never bored.

The giant took notice of you and Ada, before charging in your direction. Ada took action and zipped the two of you off of the roof of the now destroyed house, landing you both safely on the ground. The giant yelled angrily at missing, and turned around to face you once more.

“You deal with the villagers while I handle this?” Ada muttered to you, grappling hook in hand and ready to swing on the houses to avoid the creature while simultaneously weakening it.

Noting your inability to deal with such a huge foe, you nodded in agreement. “Be safe.”

She squeezed your hip in acknowledgment before fully pulling away. “You as well, dear.”

With that, she turned to face the giant head on. “Sorry big guy. Can't let you go that way.”

And off she went to fight and distract the giant from getting to the house. While she did that, you ran to a safe distance away from the crushing footsteps and the crumbling houses, picking off the infected stragglers that roamed the area as swiftly and quietly as possible.

You didn't want Ada to have more on her plate than she already has.

Quiet wasn't an issue. If anything managed to hear you over the chanting villagers, roaring giant, and the howling wind and rain, you'd be genuinely surprised. And maybe even a little impressed.

Eventually, the giant fell on top of the two remaining villagers you didn't get to, dead. All was silent at last, with the exception of the pouring rain that was turning into more of a light drizzle, showing some sign of slowing down for at least a little while.

You saw Ada from afar walking towards the giant corpse. A pang of worry went through you when you saw how angry she visibly was. This wasn't normal Ada behavior. She usually managed to keep her emotions in check during missions.

The closer you walked, you noticed a wiggling creature on the giant's back, a parasite if you had to guess. It moved like it wanted to get away from its dead host. Away from Ada.

Ada stomped her heeled boot onto the creature to lessen its writhing. She took out her pistol and aimed it at the creature. “Now stay down.”

One. Two. Three gunshots rang out into the stormy night air. The parasite went limp and Ada gave one final kick of annoyance to the felled creature, tucking her gun away before she faced you fully.

“You alright?” You asked her, doing your best to mask your concern so as to not anger her further. She was clearly in a sort of fragile state at the moment. And you knew the infection had part of, if not everything, to do with it. She took a deep breath before nodding a yes.

“I was getting a little annoyed, but now I'm good. Let's go.” She beckoned, leading you away from the giant. “Sweet dreams.” She snarked to the corpse as you left.

More than a little annoyed. That much was clear as day. Every plan and action took during this mission has led to one problem after another. And everything with Wesker and whatever the dangerous virus was coursing through her veins did not help.

You weren't sure how much time she had left before the virus took full control of her. Ada appeared to become more and more anxious about it too, as time went on and it seemed no progress was really made in retrieving the Amber.

Still, you kept quiet. You didn't want to further irritate her. And if she didn't want to talk, then you weren't going to force her.

Your thoughts were put on hold when you saw Luis safely strolling down the path just below the rock formation you and Ada were waiting on. He noticed you both and with a look of relief he sped walked toward you.

“Luis! Glad to see you made it out of that mess safe.” You called out with a grin. He smiled back at your genuine enthusiasm.

“Oh, that? That was nothing, Sénorita.” He gestured behind himself with a careless wave, as if he didn't just get away from a swarm of probably one hundred infected people looking for blood. As if he's dealt with bigger, worse things at some point and this was just a walk in the park. He smirked at your look of disbelief. “Got a smoke?”

“I do. The kind you like.” Ada remarked, though she made no move to hand over the pack of cigarettes he earlier abandoned with radio numbers written down to get into contact again.

“Now, where is the Amber?” Ada questioned, done with the pleasantries and wanting to finish the business at hand.

“Unfortunately, it's not on me at the moment.” He sighed as he walked forward and began to attempt a climb up the rocks to get to you both, grunting with the effort. “And you really should be telling me what-” He paused, huffing from the exertion, before continuing.

“What a good job I did. Busted my ass and managed to hide it right before I got caught. Which,” He stumbled during the climb, but saved himself from slipping. “Is why I'm still alive!”

His triumphant tone made the corners of your mouth tug upward in amusement, but it quickly turned into a frown once you glanced to your left and saw how his words affected the already on edge Ada. Hopefully she won't do anything extreme.

He had nearly made the climb, but still reached his hand out for additional assistance from one of you. You went to help, but Ada stopped you with a gentle hand on your arm before crouching down with a sigh to be more leveled with Luis.

“The deal was we get you out of here when you deliver the Amber. No Amber, no 'protection’, Luis.” She reminded him. There was no room for nonsense in her entire demeanor. No more time to waste.

He gave a forced and slightly annoyed laugh. Likely in irritation from the long day he's had and Ada showing no appreciation for the fact that he was trying. Though in her mind, he wasn't trying hard enough. He was just wasting both of your precious time.

“Such a stickler for details, huh Ada?” Her deadpan expression didn't waver. He glanced at you with a look you couldn't quite decipher, and you shrugged unhelpfully. He let out another sigh before grumbling. “Alright. I'll go get it now, how about that?”

He reached out a hand for help once more, waiting a long moment. You nudged her and Ada finally gave in and helped him up the small, yet hard to climb, cliff.

Once he was up, he patted himself clear of dirt and looked back to the house the villagers bombarded with a tired sigh. “And I do have something else I need to get too.”

Your girlfriend and you shared a look. You gave a huff and shook your head muttering, “This ought to be good.”

—

The castle. Luis had led you both back to the castle. The place where your mission had officially started and where everything had gone to shit pretty much instantaneously. You'd hoped once you left it the first time that you wouldn't have to be back.

And yet, here you are.

Luis had climbed halfway up the side of the castle he had led you all to enter from before Ada had decided to just grapple you both up the tower, not even bothering to attempt the climb or help the struggling Luis up the rest of the way. He huffed and finished the challenging climb by himself, muttering to himself all the while.

You and Ada remained silent as you waited for him. Ada, not only because she was pissed, but also because she was stuck in her own head, running through the statistics of how many more distractions and side quests she had in her before the virus took over and she lost total control of herself. You just let her be, not having much to say that would soothe her concerns due to you feeling the exact same way.

You wish you could continue to tell her it would be alright, but the longer this mission takes, the more you see her condition beginning to take its toll. Not just in her behavior. Now it is visible in her physical appearance as well.

Her eyes had changed. The infection took form in black, vein-like, lines within her eyes. You had noticed prior to finding Luis, when Ada had been manipulated by the bug creature, that similar veins had covered her face while she clutched her head in pain. A clear sign of the virus and its power over her. So to see it remain permanently in her eyes with the monster not in sight…

It was clear that time was running out.

“You probably didn't plan on coming back here, eh?” Luis questioned as he finally crawled through the hole in the wall you've entered from.

“I had hoped not.” You admitted. You noticed Ada's calculated silence became more of a simmering, angry, silence. She was not happy with the man. Not one bit.

“Well, plans do change, no?” Luis said, trying to catch his breath from the climb.

Ada's silence gave him pause. Noting her mood, he turned to you hesitantly before voicing a question you all already knew the answer to. “Are you angry?”

Her silence spoke volumes, causing you both to grimace. “You're angry.” He concluded. He paused again, debating his next words. You shook your head, knowing by his hesitance that what he has to say won't be good.

He ignored your silent advice, quickly spilling out his next sentence. “There is this one thing I must do before I can recover the Amber.”

You winced, glancing at Ada who went from a silent simmer to boiling over in about three seconds flat. This won't be good.

Ada was giving Luis a look that could kill, and in return he held his hands up in a placant gesture.

“Before?” She questioned, voice deceptively calm. And before you could stop her, she had her pistol drawn and pointed right at the man's head.

“Ada!” Your startled call went ignored by her.

Heels clicked angrily against the hard floor as she took threatening steps toward Luis, who had raised his hands even higher in an attempt to convince her not to shoot. “This is not a negotiation, Luis. So choose your next words carefully.”

“Oh, woah…” Luis fumbled, taking a shaky breath before taking a slow step to the side. Then another. And another. Ada's gun remained pointed at his head as she turned with him, finger on the trigger and ready to shoot if he gave her an answer she didn't like.

“Ada-”

“Stay out of this, Y/n.” Ada told you. Her cold tone gave you pause. While you know it wasn't you she was angry at, you still didn't want to test her when she's like this.

Especially not with Luis's life on the line.

“It's fine, Sénorita.” Luis said, before giving his full attention to Ada. You listened and backed off. “Listen, there is someone who needs my help… You know me – always the good Samaritan!”

“Let me guess. Leon?” Ada smirked slightly as Luis looked surprised that she knew about Leon. Though her grip on the gun didn't falter.

“Yes! Exactly! Leon and that young woman…” Luis began to slowly back away. Young women? The president's daughter? “They are both infected. They need this medicine. It slows the infection. And I know it works. I used it on myself. So I-”

“And why does this matter to me?” Ada interrupted, quickly closing the distance Luis had managed to make between the two of them. You could think of a few reasons why it matters.

Luis paused, and as if hearing your own thoughts, stated matter of factly, “Because you too are infected.”

Ada and you shared a look. You were surprised he noticed, given how most of this mission has been spent away from Luis with you and Ada chasing after him.

Luis shook his head, exasperated. “It's what I researched for all these years. And I see the symptoms already showing in your eyes, Ada.”

For the first time since Ada drew the gun, Luis turned his back on her and walked further away with a little more confidence. Even when he was at risk of being shot in the back.

“You must already feel the effects, eh?” He slowly crouched over a trap door, still somewhat mindful of the woman holding the gun on him. “The medicine will stop them for a time. Just, trust me. You have a lot to gain, and nothing to lose!”

Ada seemed to agree with that statement. “Okay. But this is your last chance. We do this first, and then the Amber.” She placed her gun back into the holster with a final stern look, before turning to search around the room for anything useful to be brought with her.

“I'll let Leon know!” Luis exclaimed, happy he convinced her to help.

You were relieved. And so, so glad Ada agreed. This might be her only chance. Granted, it's not a cure. But it would give you both more time to find the Amber and find an actual cure.

You stood awkwardly in your current place as Luis reached for his radio and made a call. “Hola. Luis here. You guys still around?” He questioned.

A very familiar voice snarked through the speaker of the radio. “Well I wanted to go home, but Ashley just had to see this castle first.”

Ashley. The president's daughter.

Luis grinned. “Perfect, because I have a present I want to give you. Medicine that will help to suppress the progress of your… problem.”

“Where do we go?” Leon asked.

“Let's see… Come to the courtyard inside the castle. We can meet up there.” Luis decided. “¡Ciao!”

With that, he hung up the call and turned to speak to the two women patiently and impatiently waiting for him.

He stood up and set to opening the trap door leading out of the room. “Sorry to keep you both waiting. Shall we?”

You glanced back at Ada and saw she was ready to go. You nodded as Luis opened the hatch on the floor. “We shall.”

He grinned as he led you both out of the room and down a stairwell. “There's a hidden laboratory downstairs. My stuff should be there.” He explained, jumping down the remaining gap in the stairs to the floor. Likely destroyed due to lack of maintenance in this area of the castle. You jumped down right after him with Ada right behind you.

“Along with the suppressant?” Ada questioned.

“Right,” Luis nodded. “Though first we have to get past this locked gate.” He said, gesturing to the barred area that was preventing you all from going further.

“Leave it to me.” Ada abruptly ran off before you could offer assistance. You shrugged it off, not much you could do given this requires the grappling hook. Which you have yet to get the hang of using and probably never will.

As you and Luis waited, he decided to start up a conversation with you. “So…”

You raised a brow at his hesitance. As if he is trying to figure out if what he is about to say is crossing a boundary. “So?”

He paused, muttering a quick “fuck it”, then proceeded to ask his intended question.

“Trouble in paradise?” He asked, noting the growing tension between the two of you that you had since excused and ignored.

Not expecting that question, you stuttered and spat out an, “Excuse me?” Wincing slightly at how it came out a little harsh. Not intending to hurt the man in front of you, just taken off guard by the personal question.

Luis scoffed. “Oh please! You two went from the ultimate dream team to practically walking on eggshells around each other.”

“We still work well together.” You answered, slightly confused by where he was going with this.

“Yes you do, Sénorita.” Luis amended before continuing, “Though I can't help but notice the growing tension between you. What happened?”

You were curious, “Why do you want to know?”

“Well…” Luis shrugged nonchalantly, leaning against the wall behind him with a grin. “I like to think that, despite our short time knowing each other, we are friends. You did save my life after all. And I think I'm allowed to be a little concerned about my friend.”

Your growing defensive demeanor softened slightly, sensing no lie coming from the man in front of you.

“Does that mean Ada is your friend too?” You wondered. He exaggeratedly pondered for a moment.

“Eh, I'm still not so sure about that one. A little testy, no?” He jested, grin widening when the joke resulted in a laugh from you. “But in all seriousness, is everything alright between you two. What with the, uh, virus.”

Your smile dropped with a sigh. “I'm just worried about her. She hasn't been fully herself. Not the usual Ada I've come to know and love. I just don't know what to do. I- I don't want to make it worse.” You quietly admitted.

“Has she tried to hurt you?” He asked with concern.

“No. But I can see that she grows increasingly more worried that it will happen at some point. She's been slowly distancing herself from me. Not in the physical sense, but mentally. Like she's preparing for the worst case scenario.”

Luis hummed, “I see. Well don't worry too much, Sénorita. We will get her the help she needs before the worst can happen. Okay?”

He grinned with a comforting pat to your shoulder. You weakly returned it. Grateful for his considerate words, but also not entirely convinced it would be so easy.

After all, nothing on this entire mission has been easy yet.

#ada wong #ada wong x reader #resident evil #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy #luis sera resident evil #luis serra #albert wesker #los iluminados #ashley graham #i wish i could walk in heels

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strawhbrrries · 2 years ago

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Three gifts and a kiss

pairing: reader x softish!joel miller

summary: three gifts and a kiss is all it took for you to break the walls around Joel Miller’s heart.

warnings: implied age gap (never mentioned), use of pet names (darlin’), straight fluff, no use of Y/N *please let me know if i forgot anything*

author’s note: this is my first real writing piece, outside of fanfic i wrote on wattpad when i was twelve, so please be kind with criticism! as much as i love smut i was too nervous to write it for my first post so i hope the fluff does justice. i really do hope you enjoy it! *not proofread*

word count: 2145 words

“Shh. Stop your fussing. I am just braiding your hair.” You teased, separating the three strands of hair you were overlapping into more organized strands to work with.

“It hurts!” Ellie whined, laying her head back in your lap to emphasize her point, bringing one her hands up to rub the side of her head to soothe the pain she swore up and down was the worst thing she ever felt.

Ellie was sat on the floor in between your legs reading whatever she had picked up off the end table when she came barging in your house demanding for her hair to be branded, something about how she had never learned and needed to be taught. Which was a big load of bullshit, as proved by the fact you were just braiding her hair and she wasn’t learning shit, well only half a load of bullshit as she truly had never learned.

Jackson wasn’t necessarily a boring place for you before Ellie and Joel showed up, but it wasn’t the most entertaining either. Bartending has its perks but outside of it, all the days blended together and were a never ending boring hell. The foul mouthed child made your days way more interesting, finding every excuse under the sun to find her way into your home. Not that you minded, but a knock would be nice every now and then. You enjoyed her company more than you expected when Tommy informed you that the empty house next door would be filled. You had actual friends your age, but most had adult responsibilities that started earlier in the day than yours did, besides Ellie being over occasionally meant Joel visiting to bring her home. Those were your favorite days.

The first time you ever met the infamous Joel Miller, is forever ingrained in your mind. His footsteps rattling through the house and the deepness of his voice as he called out for Ellie, you mentally noted that he was the reason she never knocked.

“In here Joel!” Ellie called out from your bedroom just up the stairs, giving you a look that expressed all her frustration of him just showing up.

“C’mon, dinners ready.” His voice carried through the house, not once had he really raised his voice since he showed up. His footsteps on the stairs sent her into a flurry to grab her things and go.

The two finger knock on the door captured your attention, never in your twenty years of living had you seen a man so attractive and he became so much more attractive the second he nodded his head in your direction. You knew it had been a long time when such a simple action made warmth flood your body.

“I’ll see you later, Ellie, hopefully the garden will be a bit more grown in soon so we can mess around in it !” You smiled, smoothing out the shirt you were wearing to try and make yourself more presentable for your unexpected handsome visitor. “It’s Joel, right?”

“Yeah, sorry it took so long to meet.” He spoke back, no emotion present. You added to your, short, mental notes about the man that he seemed almost robotic.

“‘s okay. Ellie said you’ve been pretty busy, I enjoy having her around. It was nice to meet you!” You spoke enthusiastically to try and elicit a response from him but all he did was nod his head out the door and left with Ellie trailing behind him. A frown and disappointment soon took over the warmth he had originally brought.

Joel never went out of his way to acknowledge you, sure he nodded his head every time you served him at the bar but unlike your other regulars he had no interest in your stories and new recipes. However, you always went out of your way to acknowledge him in subtle ways; always sending some leftovers home with Ellie, leaving a brand new guitar on his porch after Ellie told you he had broken his other one (admittedly, not your most subtle move), and a record of Linda Ronstadt with the words “I don’t need this back :)” scribbled on a piece of paper taped to it.

The leftovers he appreciated, not that he ever expressed his gratitude to you about it. They were nice after a long shift on patrol, especially so because he didn’t have to cook nor did he have to interact with people at the mess hall. He spoke more to you, kinder to you, after you started sending leftovers home with Ellie. You found him, much like Ellie, barging in more often and on one occasion found him in your garden inspecting the produce you had planted for the season.

“You’ve got weeds.” He’d mumble, as if he was genius of the year for that observation. “Prolly some bugs too.” Joel placed a hand on his knee and got up off the ground, standing awkwardly as he had previously planned to have been gone before you caught him here.

“By all means, if you can find insecticide that won’t cost me a fortune I would be forever indebted to you.” A chuckle slipped out at the thought that THE Joel Miller was in your garden going on about weeds. Life was weird sometimes. Your words earned you the first smile you’ve seen from the man, you thought about it every night from then on out. Joel, unbeknownst to you, thought of your giggle and the pretty blue sundress you had been wearing when you stumbled upon him every night.

The guitar, that one stirred up some trouble in the imaginary relationship you thought was going on with you and Mr. Miller. Ellie had come to help you cook and also gossip about Joel, you didn’t mind either, when he came storming in the house. You and Ellie exchanged a knowing look, but neither could’ve predicted the storm that was going to brew.

“Ellie. Go home.” His voice was low and his face mean. Everyone knew Joel Miller was a mean man but to be the person it was directed at, even worse.

“Wha- I’m just helping!” Ellie tried to plead her case, motioning to the half cut vegetables she was cutting.

“Go.”

Ellie, reluctantly, left which left you with the seething older man standing in your kitchen. Instead of speaking, you simply turned around to the vegetables Ellie just left and started chopping in hopes that maybe he would leave and you didn’t have to be the brunt of whatever anger he had about something you didn’t even know about!

“What did you trade.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement and he expected an answer about point five seconds ago.

“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.” Also not a question, also a statement, most certainly a lie. You knew exactly what he was asking about, it was an act of kindness and you didn’t want to be scolded for caring about him.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, leaned over the kitchen table that sat in between the two of you and let out a sigh. “Let's cut to the chase, darlin’. What the fuck did you trade. Don’t fuck with me either ‘cus I know you’re smarter than that.”

“What I did or did not trade for the guitar is not your business, I was being nice, Joel. Hard for you to get used to, I know.” Your words came out a bit harsher than intended, you weren’t trying to be rude all you had intended to do was give him a new guitar after his had broken.

Instead of a rebuttal all you heard was his boots hitting the floor and the slam of your front door. You were too angry to cry, all you had tried to do was be kind. Had he been embarrassed? Embarrassed about what, that someone cares for him? You were too angry to chop, the fear of accidentally cutting off a finger was a bit too real at the moment, so you settled for half the usual vegetables.

You still put leftovers on his porch. No amount of anger, and sadness for what occurred, would stop you from caring about him.

He didn’t speak to you for eight days. Never showed up to coax Ellie home. Stopped playing his, new, guitar on the porch. For eight days he gave you the cold shoulder, it sucked. He only caved on the eighth day when he overheard your boss mention you had called out of work three days in a row, he couldn’t figure out why he cared but he did. He knocked on your door four times before you opened it.

“You look like shit.” His words robotic as ever.

“If you came to be rude, leave.” Your response was weak and quiet, your skin pale and visibly clammy. You had stressed yourself sick.

“What happened?” He brought his hand to your forehead and immediately felt the heat, surprised you hadn’t melted yet.

For the first time in over twenty years, Joel had taken care of someone. He slept in the uncomfortable chair that sat in the corner of your bedroom, refusing the bed or the couch. He reheated meals and even made some of his own to make sure you were fed, and hydrated. For the first time since you met, you felt that he truly cared. He even let his guard down enough to, begrudgingly almost so much he could’ve convinced someone he was forced to do it, lay with you when the blankets weren’t enough to fight off the shivers. Ellie teased him in the privacy of their home that he was developing a crush, and he was.

The Linda Ronstadt record was your most genius idea. When you had first met Ellie, she mentioned a cassette her and Joel listened to when they were first driving out here. You asked for the artist and her exact words were “I don't know. Linda blah blah blah.” The guitar incident was long forgotten so you figured gifts were pretty safe now. A coworker had mentioned trading a few records for some home cooked meals, and the stars aligned so perfectly that one of them happened to be the exact record Ellie had spoken about (or so you hoped).

Joel frequented your place more often, he found your company more appealing than his own, and you enjoyed it more than you let on. You had Ellie leave the record somewhere in his room to find after his patrol shift.

The now familiar sound of Joel’s boots hitting the floor as he took them off filled your living room. However, he was supposed to be on patrol and definitely not here in your house holding a Linda Ronstadt record.

“Darlin’ what’s with the gift?” He asked softly, or as soft as he possibly could. His body finding comfort next to yours on the couch, plucking the note you wrote off the record and tucking it away into the pocket of his flannel.

“Ellie said you liked her, someone at work was gettin’ rid of it. Figured you might like it.” A smile making itself home on your face, he thought it was the prettiest smile he’d ever seen. He’d gone soft.

“I don’t own a record player sweet girl.”

“You’ll have to visit more then. Or! Let me give you one!”

“I’ll just let you have it, hopefully the lyrics haven’t left my brain just yet and I can teach ‘em to ya.” He placed the record on the end table next to him and placed a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Can’t believe I was such a hard ass on you, sweetest thing to ever grace my life.”

“I knew you’d come around eventually.” Looking up at him softly and caressing his cheek before placing the gentlest of kisses to his lips. “Thought you were supposed to be on patrol anyway.”

“Got someone to switch with me after I saw the record, had to come see my girl.” Joel responded, placing a kiss on your lips before trailing his thumb along your bottom lip.

Three gifts and a kiss is all it took for you to break the walls around Joel Miller’s heart. The leftovers no longer found their way onto his porch, as eventually it became your porch and the leftovers found themselves in a new fridge. The guitar was played and used to teach Ellie how to play, you often spent evenings on the porch listening to someone strum it. The record was always on repeat when Joel was home, until he accidentally dropped it on the floor consequently covering it in scratches unable to be played. As for the kisses, they never stopped and each one filled your body with butterflies that could burst out at any moment.

#joel miller #the last of us #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo #joel miller fluff #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #pedro x reader #pedropascal #maddies fics

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absolutebl · 1 year ago

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I Cannot Reach You - Kimi ni wa Todokanai REVIEWED

This image perfectly captures how I feel about this show. You ready? I wasn't.

I Cannot Reach You

AKA I Can't Reach You AKA Kimi ni wa Todokanai

Japan 2023 - 8 eps 20 ea approx 2.5 hours

Themes, main tropes & archetypes: friends to lovers, tsundere/sunshine, self acceptance, self worth, high school BL, live action yaoi, soft romance, kindness

Rating? 10/10

Yeah, it happened again in 2023.

Adapted from a manga.

The moment I finished binging this show I was thinking about writing about it and re-watching it. This is a sure sign that I adored a piece of media.

This is a wonderful BL.

Truly well executed, with smooth filming and lovely acting, both of a simplistic style that felt slightly more Korean than it did Japanese. It reminded me a little bit of Seven Days and a little bit of Takara and Amagi, and since these are my two favorite high school JBLs obviously I was bound to adore ICRY.

But what it reminded me of more than anything was Cherry Blossoms After Winter.

Odd for JBL and KBL to be so closely linked.

Like CBAW show, ICRY is classic live action yaoi.

Like the MOST classic of CLASSIC.

All the JBL tropes. I mean look at that image above? It's rooftop assignation, kabedon, and a handhold ALL AT ONCE.

There was also multiple runnings of the gays, surprise kisses (one on a bridge), and shoulder leans.

There is even a “seme looses control to desire” scene which leads to dub con. There is an abject apology after but still - you’ve been warned.

The premise is: smart sporty hot (and hella gay) Yamato has a long standing crush on his silly sunshine sweetheart bestie, Kakeru. Yamato is also stiff, self isolated, shy, and has only ever really managed to get along with Kakeru. I love this kind of pining seme so damn much, it probably biased me.

Unlike most uke, Kakeru starts to slowly figure out that his best friend is in love with him by ep 2 (let the chaos bisexual identity crisis commence).

So do some of the friends around them.

The story thus revolves around Yamato trying to unsuccessfully suppress his desire, and Kakeru trying to figure out if he can return Yamato‘s affection.

This biggest barrier is actually Kakeru's feelings of inadequacy and unworthiness (when compared to Yamato). But this is tempered by his genuine kindness which forces him into act with integrity around his dear friend's love and strive to fix everything (even himself) to prove worthy of it - whether he can ultimately return it or not.

Kakeru's struggles are pitted against Yamato‘s repressed need that keeps bubbling over and figuratively (sometimes literally) attacking Kakeru with romantic, emotional, and physical intensity.

Quick pitch:

This classic friends-to-lovers BL is everything Japan does best. Angsty. Emo. Aching. Driven by real thirst. Yamato is deeply in love with his childhood bestie, Kakeru, and has been for ages, unable to hide his ungainly damaging high school need. He wants Kakeru in every way possible and it oozes off of the screen. Kakeru is silly and a little simple, but not frenetic or overly camp about it. He is earnest, and genuinely wants to keep Yamato in his life which means giving a romance (and gayness) a fair chance. We watch him realize his affection and what form it can take in a truly authentic way. This show was impossibly kind to both of its lead characters and I felt almost honored that I got to watch something so lovely and rare play out on my screen.

I’m not gonna lie, I dithered over whether to give this a 10/10 and nearly didn’t. But there is nothing wrong with it AS A BL.

And it's so GOOD to ALL of its characters and they are so good to each other. It's quiet, and because of that and its goodness, it will get overlooked, but I LOVED IT.

It's not one of those that BL outsiders will get and you must like Japan's style to enjoy it. But I'm in it. It's for me.

What am I hung up over? Even the kisses are good.

10/10

I CAN'T RECOMMEND IT HIGHLY ENOUGH

Welcome to a very elite club. I gotta change all my best of lists now.

I am sorry to tell you how difficult this show is to get hold of. It deserves a much wider distribution. As of Nov 2023 I do not know where to legally find it internationally with eng subs. Please check the comments for updates.

It's on Netflix in some countries!

Try to find it, you won't regret it.

(source)

#my favorite JBL of 2023 #best of the year?#Japanese BL #I Cannot Reach You #Kimi ni wa Todokanai #JBL #Japanese bl #live action yaoi #adapted from a manga #this is what i want from japan #it's just so good and so good to it's characters and they are so good to each other

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callmelola111 · 2 years ago

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color me purple ♡ part two

✄ - - - - part 1 , part 2 , part 3 - - - - soundtrack - - - - ♡

synopsis: it’s summer and you’re back at camp stillwater. as a counselor you mean serious business and you’ll do whatever it takes for your cabin to come out on top. the only thing in the way of that; ellie williams and her crazy antics.

| 𓆣 | pairing & wc: ellie williams x reader. wc: 3.3k

| ❀ | cw (by part): 18+ themes (MDNI), modern au, fem reader, some fluff but mostly angsty, HEAVY sexual themes on the verge of smut, swearing, slight mention of marijuana, ellie is kinda a perv, ellie calls foot fetishes weird so if u have one i'm sorry lol not trying to kink shame its just for the plot !!

a/n: happy wednesday y'all!! i was literally kicking my feet while writing this hehe. i love being a delulu lesbian on paper. also i've never played poker before so if i worded something wrong i am so sorry lolz. sending hugs and kisses 2 you all ♡~ lola

Mrs. Campbell seemed taller this evening as she stood waiting to confront you with your fate. The moon shone brightly casting her long, mangled shadow across the dirt. As she spoke, your gaze remained locked to it, avoiding the disappointed look you knew was written all over her face.

“What do you two think you’re doing?!?” she yelled. You struggled to form any words with the large lump consuming your throat. Your stomach would’ve dropped too but you were pretty sure you had lost it during your barefoot dash through the woods. Ellie stood next to you just as silent until your devastated face clued her into your current state. She quickly tried to rationalize, speaking for the both of you.

“Mrs. Campbell, we're so, so sorry. Seriously, it was all my fault, please don’t blame Y/n!” You softened hearing Ellie so quickly take the fall. Feeling compelled to finally join this tense confrontation, you looked up from the ground. Your eye’s met with the wardens but they were filled with concern rather than fury as you had expected. Your injuries had alluded to a situation that she felt needed a bit more context.

“I’m just trying to figure out how you two ended up here bloody, wet, and 2 hours past curfew!” she said. With the guidance of Ellie you calmly explained the situation. Of course, it wasn’t the full truth. You took extra care to leave out the part about your little smoke sesh. And after what felt like hours of questioning and nagging, you and Ellie were given the benefit of the doubt, remaining counselors for the summer.

Mrs. Campbell gave her final say, “You girls better count your blessings. I’m feeling nice tonight. But, I can’t let your behavior go unpunished. Neither of you will be participating in tomorrow's first round of games. I'll take your campers under my wing while you two think about your behavior back at the cabins. Alone.” Tears welled in your eyes as you came to terms with the consequences of your actions. Ellie shifted her gaze to your heartbroken expression and the corners of her mouth turned down. Sure it was just one day of sitting out, but she knew how much the competition meant to you and felt like a total piece of shit for making you miss out. Even if it wasn’t completely her fault.

“That’s final. Now both of you please go wash up and stop making me worry!” Mrs. Campbell concluded.

You and Ellie made the 5 minute walk to the showers in silence, still shaken up from the recent events. Despite the water’s icy temperatures, it felt nice to wash off the evidence of your night living on the wild side. However, Ellie showered one space over with little emotional relief, too consumed by you. She just stood idle as the sharp drops of H2O hit her back. Questioning how you felt about her, if you were mad, and what you were thinking but wouldn’t say.

She couldn’t take it anymore and quickly switched off the water, drying off with a rough gray towel. You followed in suit, stepping out wrapped in your pink towel. The textured fabric wrapped tightly over your breasts hoisting the mounds up to peak over the linen. They sat pretty like a Victorian woman in a tight corset. Ellie, now in a fresh pair of clothes, kept her head forward but eyed you from her peripherals before finally speaking.

“I’m so sorry… I don’t even know what to say. I never wanted to get you in trouble.” She looked absolutely miserable, so convinced you hated her. You’d never seen this side of Ellie before. A side that was real and vulnerable. You had always pinned her as this impenetrable tough guy, never seeming bothered by anything. And now here you were, bothering her. What was so special about you, why did she care?

“Ellie, I’m not mad at you, just a little sad. This was my choice as much as it was yours.”

Ellie turned to you, voice breaking, “Wait… really?” Part of her felt like an idiot for bringing it up now, considering it was all in her head, but you didn’t think twice about giving her the reassurance she seeked.

“Yes, really.” Ellie gave a timid smile slanting to one side and breathed a sigh of relief knowing that her assumptions were just a product of overthinking.

“Now please, stop being so melodramatic and help me patch up all these stupid cuts.” You took a seat on the long bench placed in the tiled bathroom and Ellie followed like a humble servant. She got down on her knees like she owed it to you. Taking a wet cloth in her right hand and carefully cleaning your cuts one by one. Her touch was gentle, almost too much, but she didn't want to hurt you. You took pleasure in Ellie’s tender care and couldn’t help but wonder if she’s like this with all her friends. Even more, you questioned if it’s something you should be enjoying as much as you did. Ellie took her sweet time rinsing out the dirt from your wounds that you had acquired as an unwanted souvenir. Tending to your injuries gave her more time to study all of your nooks and crannies. Something she had only dreamed of. Ellie enjoyed every second until she reached your thighs, your gorgeous plush thighs. She observed as your pink towel bunched at the abdomen before splitting down the sides of your legs in a triangle-like formation. Mind hazy with desire, she couldn’t help but yearn for the other body parts under that towel that she wished to tend to. Ellie internally slapped herself for the heat that followed her nasty thoughts and her tour of your body was cut short. Following the clean, she took some Neosporin to smooth across the bigger gashes that covered your knees and elbow. You winced at the friction.

“It really got you good huh,” she teased, “maybe you can lie and say you got attacked by a bear or something.”

“No, not a bear,” your eyes rolling, “just Ellie Willaims and her antics.”

“Oh shut up, you had fun.” You didn’t say anything back, just gave a smile, because you knew Ellie was right. As much as you wanted to be upset about how everything went down and how you were so easily influenced by her, you just couldn’t. Maybe because you knew she had no ill intent, or maybe you were beginning to realize that breaking rules wasn’t so bad- perhaps, it was even a little fun.

You woke up early the next day with everyone else, despite your impromptu grounding. Although you yearned for sleep, the sun shone too bright and the girls chatter, too loud. You pulled the scratchy covers of your twin bed up, making it semi-nice for your next sleep. A sleep you looked forward to, as it signaled the end of this awful day. But, with the cabin overcome by girlish excitement it was hard to remain in such a sour mood. You ventured to the top of an empty but rickety bunk bed to observe the members of team red from above. It was like watching a village of little ants running around prepping for the day ahead. Some flew out the screen door to shower, a few braided each other's hair, and all of them finished dressed up in color coordinating outfits.

As 9:30 am approached, you wrapped up your finishing touches to the last few stragglers with silky hair ribbons and red face paint. By 9:40, the once bustling room was empty and the silence was loud. In an attempt to occupy your wandering mind you cracked open a Nancy Drew book, the 3rd in its series. The crisp pages slid between your fingers as the mystery consumed you, but it wasn't long before your peace was interrupted.

A peculiar knocking sound tore you from the novel opened in your hands. Setting it down on your green and pink bedding, you ventured to your dirty window to scope out the inexplicable noise. On the other side of the glass stood Ellie, like a kid, throwing rocks at your window. You stared out the gray panes that divided her in four, rolling your eyes at the audacity of it all. She continued her little performance pulling out a janky sign written in dried out blue marker. It read I'm bored… You pretend to be distraught at the news, playing into her little game. Ellie then flipped the sign over to show you the back where she had scribbled the words Do U wanna hangout? and then some idiotic smiley face to complete the message. Ellie’s own face mimicked the emoticon as she displayed all her teeth like a child on picture day. It was stupid and cheesy and it was kinda working.

The sign continued to waver in the wind as you consulted the imaginary angel and devil that lurked on your shoulders. You finally answered Ellie (whose arms were getting tired) through the window with a simple middle finger and yanked the curtains closed knowing you weren’t supposed to be leaving your living quarters that day. And although you maintained a tough exterior for the sake of the bit, you felt just a little bit giddy being invited over by Ellie. That same giddiness nagged at your morals until finally you sided with the devil. Besides, everyone will be gone and too busy to catch you guys slacking off.

You rushed to the sink to brush your teeth aggressively and then changed into a red cropped shirt with a wide neck and black biker shorts that sculpted your ass perfectly. You weren’t sure why, but you had this sudden need to impress her. Her opinion now carried a weight that was foreign to you. That weight then influenced a smear of the same cherry flavored lip gloss from the night before, remembering Ellie’s thoughts on it. You slipped the tube into your bra just in case and then skipped over like the girl next door.

Ellie opened up with a smirk. Her hair was messy and despite waking up hours ago her lounge wear remained on. You didn’t mind though. Something about her toned body in a black wifebeater tank and gray sweats made you excited.

“Well hello there.” She gestured for you to come inside. You sat in the middle of the room on an old, sage green rug. Anticipating Ellie’s next move, you pulled your scuffed up knees to your chest. She plopped down next to you and began to poke.

“I was starting to think you weren’t gonna show up.”

You scoffed, “I mean, I hate you Ellie, but not that much.” You straightened out your right knee and gave her a little kick in the shin.

“Shut up dude. I know you love me.” Ellie nudged your shoulder and you gave a simple chuckle in response, but inside you were questioning the past feelings of distaste you once harbored for her and the new ones that replaced them. You needed a distraction.

“Sooo.. how are you gonna entertain me??” Your question sent Ellie’s mind to all kinds of places, some dirty most dirty.

“Oh? So you wanna be entertained? How about a little game of poker?”

“Poker?” you said, becoming suspicious of Ellie's seemingly normal answer but the tone of her voice was a dead giveaway to the mischievous plans.

“Well… not just any poker. I play a little differently.” You urged her to continue.

“Like different how?”

“Ever heard of strip poker?” she questioned, scrunching her freckled nose in anticipation of your response. She wouldn’t think twice about indulging in this game with other friends but it was something about you and the unspoken homoerotic nature of your relationship that made the request much more daunting.

“Oh my god Ellie,” you gave a long sigh, “Do you really wanna see me naked that bad?” Usually her face would go bright red at a comment like this but today she was prepared for your little quips, having taken the leap to propose such a game in the first place.

“No. I wanna watch you lose.” she stated bluntly. And with her words, a jolt of that familiar cutthroat attitude surged through your body along with a little arousal that you ignored, pretending it was just adrenaline.

“Oh you’re on.” you spat. What had Ellie Williams done to you? Just days ago you would have opposed such a scenario like sneaking over to play strip poker but her dangerously seeming presence was exhilarating to you. She was a drug you just couldn’t quit. And before you could even think twice, that drug was pulling out her playing cards and popping a mixtape ← into her old cassette player.

You grew quiet and the music grew loud as you anxiously waited for Ellie to shuffle the deck. She had a classic one with the red patterned backings. The cards slotted into each other as Ellie thumbed the split stack from bottom to top. It made a satisfying noise that repeated a few more times before she dealt them out between the two of you.

The rules were simple, each chip signified an article of clothing, whoever had the worst hand lost a chip and a little bit of dignity along with it. A stack of 4 old poker chips sat in front of you balancing on the ridges of the rug. 1 for your shirt, 1 for your shorts, and 2 for each sock. Ellie had the same. You could practically feel the sweat gathering on your brow as the game began. The first round was close, Ellie with a straight and you with 3 of a kind.

She quickly snatched up one of your chips before saying, “You lose!!”

“This is just the first round, don’t get used to it.” you replied, peeling off your left sock. Quickly you placed your other foot on top of the now bare one, hiding it from Ellie like it was something to be embarrassed of. She took note of your behavior and clarified her intentions.

“You know, I don’t have a weirdo foot fetish if that's what you’re thinking.”

“Oh my god. Shut. Up. I don’t think that, I just don’t want you looking at my feet.” You turned your face away from her, putting your hand up theatrically. Your embarrassment amused Ellie.

“Just wait till you have to take your top off.”

“That won’t be necessary.” You tried seeming confident in your reply but your face felt hot and your hands were clammy. You didn’t want to imagine being so exposed in front of Ellie. What if she doesn’t like it? Why did it matter if she did?

“Right, we’ll see how that goes…” Ellie’s voice trailed off, letting go of your stubborn ramblings. The game continued as so; round 2: you won, round 3: you won again, round 4: Ellie won. At this point there were no more socks to take off. Your stomach twisted and turned thinking of the next possibilities. Part of you wanted to give up and take off but the other part of you wanted to stay around and see what Ellie looked like without a shirt. This confused you.

During round 5 you could hardly focus, but luck was on your side when all Ellie could present was a pair against your straight, leaving you a winner. Without a second thought she crossed her arms grabbing at the hem of her tank. Her biceps flexed with motion as she pulled it over her head revealing a black sports bra. You stared unintentionally, mouth agape.

“Like what ya see?” Ellie remarked. Your cheeks flushed red and your head shot down into your lap like a reflex.

“Relax, we’re just friends having fun. You can look.” she continued. Right… friends. You took a deep breath in trying to calm yourself. There was still more of the game to play and a craving for victory that lingered.

The next round was brutal leaving you with a measly high card, the worst hand you could get. Before Ellie even revealed her hand, your mind was at war deciding if you should remove your pants or shirt first. This felt like so much more than a simple game of cards with a friend. I mean here you were in front of half-naked Ellie, questioning if she was more of an ass girl or if she liked tits better. After your losing cards were revealed you took a pause, twirling a stray thread around your finger that you had pulled off the rug. Just as you were settling on pants Ellie interrupted.

“If- If you dont wanna, you don’t have to. I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.” Ellie was starting to feel guilty for roping you into her games. For her, this wasn’t about winning, it was about pleasure and that's what made her feel so bad. You were here to play poker and Ellie was just waiting to see what panties you wore that day. Such a perv.

“NO,” your voice raised, halting Ellie’s skewed thoughts like your life depended on it. “I want to.” You stood up slowly trying to steady your shaky hands. Gently, your long fingers rimmed around the waistband of the shorts. Ellie sat criss-cross looking up at you like a god. The black spandex peeled off your wide hips and down your thighs at an agonizingly slow pace for Ellie. Finally reaching your knees they fell the rest of the way down, pooling at your ankles. The cool air tickled your pantie-clad privates, sending you back down to the warm spot you left on the floor.

Ellie couldn’t even speak. It was like a wet dream seeing you dressed in nothing but a crop top and some lacey, pink underwear. The heat between her legs was almost unbearable and she could feel as her slick seeped straight through the plaid boxers hidden under her sweats. Too busy with her downstairs, she failed to give you any sort of sign that would hint to the pleasure your body was giving her. You felt stupid for even wanting that from her and flipped to lay on your stomach trying to hide your nakedness. Without Ellie’s approval or encouragement you felt ashamed.

Wanting this moment of awkwardness to pass, you reached for more cards to continue to the next round. Ellie grabbed the deck before you could even reach it.

“Actually uh- we should just stop.” she said, not even able to make eye contact from how overwhelmed she was with lust. Of course, you didn’t know this and a downward spiral of thoughts began. Have you done something? Said something? What happened?

You stuttered out a “Wha- why?” Ellie continued staring down at her crotch. Her stupid crotch- that was the reason why. She knew that if she lost the next round, her sweatpants that shielded her from embarrassment would have to be removed. The large and growing wet spot of your doing was something Ellie refused to let you see. She assumed that if you were to ever discover the amount of arousal a friendly game of poker caused, you’d be disgusted and never speak to her again.

“I just- I think you need to leave.” You blinked hard and fast, trying to swallow back any tears being provoked by Ellie’s response.

“So… I’m that ugly, huh?” you said, voice now shaking. You felt humiliated.

“No, no!! It’s not th-”

“Save it Ellie,” you yelled, tears beginning to run down your cheeks. “This is the last time I let you make me out to be some loser idiot who falls for all your tricks! I am not ending up like all those stupid girls who you’ve fucked over!” You kicked open the swinging door taking one look back at Ellie. Her face was dumbfounded, confused, hurt. What were you saying? What was all that supposed to mean? She thought of chasing after you but knew it would be no use. You were too stubborn and upset to be talked to by Ellie, and it was quite clear that neither of you had realized what this game had meant to the other.

✄ - - - - part 1 , part 2 , part 3 - - - - masterlist - - - - ♡

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