#like 'peace out good luck not dying'

[boolger]

A lapdog at a farm - chapter 1

AO3 link. next chapter -> Call of duty. Explicit, 18+, minors do not interact. read the tags. wc: 4,147

Maybe support me on kofi?🥺👉👈

Farmer!John Price x Hybrid!Reader, hybrid! Kyle Gaz Garrick x hybrid! Johnny Soap MacTavish x hybrid! Simon Ghost, John Price x Nikolai.

Summary: When Price was young and left his childhood home, a farm in the middle of nowhere in England, he didn’t enter the military. Instead he moved to London, got a degree and a good career, earning good money. He got you, a human dog hybrid as a pet, after feeling lonely - and you lived your best life for years, spoiled and pampered, Price’s lapdog who got praised at every party. Loved and fucked every night. That was until Price decided to return to his roots and go back to farming - dragging you along to the middle of nowhere, away from all the wonders of the big city. Expecting you to accept this sudden change in lifestyle and pretend to be a farm dog. Bad luck however, because you fucking hated it, and became more and more unruly. In hopes of getting you to calm down and to keep his live-stock and farm safe, Price then got three working dog hybrids - and all at once, your life was even worse than before.

tags: Rape/non-con elements, dub-con, dog!hybrid!people being kept as pets, alternative universe - farm, dark, farmer!John Price, working-dogs, punishments, mating cycles/rut/heat (no omegaverse), the dove isn't dead but its dying, reader is a brat, knotting, animal tails and ears, mentions of trauma, violence, angst, hurt/comfort, collars, rough sex, breeding kink, biting, threesome, foursome, everyone is fucking your honor, enemies to lovers, chubby reader, reader has a pussy

author's note: Hi sinners <33 Just a heads up; the reader is gonna be a spoiled brat. If you want a smart and sweet reader who isn’t mean at times, well. Bad news. This ain’t it.🥰The reader is she / her and has a pussy and is chubby. I tried my best to keep the descriptions somewhat vague otherwise. Reader is a cocker spaniel hybrid. I will tell the others along the way. In this universe, hybrids have ears, tail, claws beneath nails and canine fangs. There will be heats and ruts but there is no omegaverse. They will have personality traits of their dog breed and so on. Now. I know there aren’t wild wolves in the UK… but in this fic there is, ok? mwah.

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The countryside was peaceful compared to the city; the absence of the bustling streets and constant traffic, created a quietness that was indescribable.

Out here, at the new farm, the noises only came from animals that lived in the stables and barn or the occasional rumble as a tractor turned on. The wind caressed the never ending fields of wheat and the long rows of fruit trees, under which the goats and sheep walked most days.

The stress here wasn’t the same kind as in the city. Sure , there were stressful moments and sometimes Price looked like he needed to sleep for more than just the few hours he got everyday.

But he didn’t have to worry about the morning traffic, waiting in a queue for an overpriced, questionable tea or coffee. There was no need for him to wear a suit, no noisy, overfilled train cars in the underground. No crowded dog or hybrid parks, no meetings or rules to follow - except those John Price decided for himself.

He was happy, so much was clear to you. It had been three months since the move - Johnhad gone back to his roots, buying back the farm that his parents had used to own a little while ago, using some of his endless wealth on renovating the place. There was no step on the stairs that was loose, like it used to when he was a kid - sure they still creaked, but you weren’t afraid they would disappear from beneath you.

It was modernized, but most of the old charm left. Price fit right in; the furniture he had inherited and never believed he would use was suddenly in the living room. His knowledge of the business world was abandoned in the city, for the knowledge of farming that he still had left from his youth. John got a couple of farm hands and workers, who helped him with the big place.

It was like he reclaimed his own self that had been buried beneath the suits, ties and paperwork. Now he didn’t smoke his cigars from stress, but from pleasure, clearly much content.

It was like the farm had truly made John Price happy once more; his smiles more genuine, his true self stepping forth. Returning to his childhood home and taking over the farm had been the best decision Price had made. There was no question about it.

… and you hated every bloody day at the farm.

The early morning hours in bed with him, being disturbed by the farm waking up, the rooster crowing and John leaving the bed, giving you a pat in between your ears, taking all the heat with him. The constant bugs, the muddy stables and the big animals, the helpers who always teased you for not fitting in, the lack of friends you had out here. The foxes’ screams in the night, the wolves howling, and the cows occasionally mooing sounded like creatures stepping out of nightmares.

You were not made for farm life. Literally. Simply not made for it.

Some would argue that you, as a hybrid pet, didn’t have a say in it and sure , legally you didn’t. But you were a lapdog, an elegant pet. Not a farm dog. Created to be cared for and cuddled, you were a purebred cocker spaniel hybrid; you weren’t made to run around on a farm, following John on his duties And doing work. 

Sure, you had the instincts to hunt a few things here and there, but it was mostly balls and the occasional bird or squirrel. You weren’t a guard hybrid, not really a working dog.

You had had enough trauma throughout your life - you deserved not to be forced into this! You had grown up being trained to be a lapdog, not a working-dog like you felt like John expected you to act like now.

You wanted John to be happy, you really did - you loved your Master! When he bought you a few years ago, when you were still aggressive and unruly (… more than now at least), you had thought he would tire of you like everybody else had. But with patience, rules, training, praise and punishment and a whole lot of sex later, you were a perfect hybrid pet for the city! People always praised how well you looked, laughing when Price said you were really a little troublemaker. You would follow him throughout the fancy apartment, on your daily walks, sometimes for meetings.

But why the fuck did it have to be a farm? He worked somwwhat the same time that he did before, genuinely seeming to enjoy himself. Forgetting about poor you!

Out here, there were no hybrid daycare that you would go to when he had long days, there were none of your playmates nearby, everything stank of animals and there were no places nearby for you to get your hair and fur styled and pampered! No nail technicians, no fancy cafes, no shops for John to buy you things in! No special made coffee or chef-made meals every other evening, no freshly baked croissants.

You felt like you had tried . You really had. 

But after the first week, you had your first breakdown - and as the weeks passed, they didn’t stop. At first, John was sympathetic, like the perfect owner he was.

Cooing at you, kissing your forehead, as he gently scratched your ears. Kissing away any tears, saying it was okay - that you were just overwhelmed, that it would be okay. That you would come to like it out here.

Big fucking joke.

He had tried every trick in the book, in an attempt to please you and made you less upset, but as days turned into weeks and tantrums began to appear, you knew his patience began to disappear.

He followed professional advice and then the advice of the neighbors down the street, Rodolfo and Alejandro (who had caught you running away at one point), tried some of the workers’ advice. He had given you your own room, and it was mostly designed like your own, perfect to the pale green paint on the wall, all your toys and dog beds, your CDs - everything. He had tried hauling you along every day, trying to give you a routine to follow - but after two weeks, he gave up, not having the energy to deal with a tantrum that got worse and worse each day. He went on walks with you, fucked you silly, tried his best — and you didn’t want it.

No, you wanted to go back to your old life. Not this country life that you hadn’t signed up for, with horses that neighed loudly whenever you passed them; they were definitely going to trample you at the first chance, you knew that. You could hear foxes scream in the night, warning you of the dangers. The goats and sheep were so fucking loud and no you didn’t want to go pick fresh apples off the trees - had he seen the size of the spiders crawling on them?

When you in one of your biggest tantrums took off and bolted from the farm in distress, Rodolfo and Alejandro had almost hit you when you emerged from the corn fields onto the road. 

You had cried the entire drive home, no matter what the two men had tried saying, especially as Rodolfo called Price in advance — your master was livid . The worst thing was, that it was not that kind of anger where he yelled at you before punishing you - no, this one was almost silent, a sharp grip on your collar as he dragged you along after thanking his neighbours.

He had belted you then, ignoring your crying and screaming, only stopping when you broke, sobbing and going quiet. He had explained it to you then, what could have happened, what dangers you could have ended in - and as you sobbingly apologized and tried to explain, that you wanted to go back to the city, John had sighed .

Said that he had pampered you too much since he got you, which had made you greedy and attention seeking. Which only made you cry more, as you hid your face in his neck, fingers digging into his shirt, ass cheeks burning.

“Spoiled rotten, little birdie,” he mused, though you could hear the softness in him, your tail wagging a little, hoping to get him to be less mad.

“‘M sorry,” you had whined in distress, upset with yourself as well, ears tipping down, “wanna be good but I don’t like it.”

Your rather dull escape attempt resulted in several things. An AirTag on your collar, so that he always knew where you were. A remarkable lack of treats, sex and then… the crate .

You fucking hated the dog crate. 

Sure, it hadn’t been nice of you to bite one of his pillows into a simple pulp of fabric, feathers everywhere. Or create chaos in the kitchen… or get drunk on his fancy whiskey (that one had ended worse for you, hangover was a bitch and there wasn’t much sympathy from John). And yes, you might have ripped most of the flowers surrounding the house up, until one of the workers had caught you. Maybe pissing yourself in the middle of the living room while staring him in the eyes and ignoring his warnings had been a little…excessive. 

But the dog crate? You hated that thing with a burning passion. 

Hated it when he locked you up, ignoring your whimpers and whines, your promises to behave, ignoring your little howls as he left. 

Mean. The farm had made him mean. Perhaps you had become a bit unruly too, but it was like he didn’t take your clear suffering seriously.

Mean and happy - unruly and suffering. What a pair you were. One of the workers, KAte Laswell, who was a big helper and often stayed over for dinner, suggested a fucking shock collar. You had growled, only stopped when John sent you a sharp look. 

You had even heard him talking over the phone with somebody, saying that he didn’t want to rehome you, but he didn’t know what to do.

That had made you melt a little and you had cried as you had crawled into his bed a couple of hours later, begging him to not abandon you. Fears of never getting to see John again or being loved again by him made you cling onto him as he kissed away your tears, gently fucking you.

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It was a random morning a couple of days later, that you found him still in the kitchen, reading the newspaper, humming to himself while smoking a cigar.

He looked nice like this. Despite how he sometimes muttered about being too old, he wasn’t really that old. Late thirties, and perhaps it was the peace on his face or the sun rays that kissed him, which made him look younger. But still. There was a decade between you, but days like this, you were reminded that it didn’t matter.

“Are you going to stare all day or are you going to join me, Darling?” He asked teasingly, pulling you from your thoughts. You let out a little huff and kissed him good morning, receiving a pat on the ass before you sat down on your own seat. It had been a while since the two of you had eaten together - often he was up at the crack of dawn, so his calm behavior and gentle humming was unusual to say the least.

“Why are you not working?” You asked carefully, as you ate some of the bread, trying to ignore how it wasn’t a fancy sourdough one - though you were pretty sure he had picked it up from a local bakery in the village which was a little drive away.

“Because,” he put the paper down, then tapping some ash off the cigar into his ashtray, before looking over at you, a pleased smile on his face, “you and I are going on a trip.”

“A trip?” You didn’t even bother to be embarrassed about how your voice got higher with excitement or how your tail thumped against the backrest of the chair as you wagged it, “where are we going? When? Can we go now?”

Price had laughed, a happy sound that you knew not many got to hear; it made your heart beat a little faster, made you feel butterflies in your stomach. 

“Well, we got to do a few things first to get ready, and you ,” he used the cigar to point at you, your tail wagging a little faster, “need to not freak out when I tell you where we are going.”

Despite the warning, tears streamed down your cheeks when he told you. John didn’t get mad as a part of you had expected; he knew your abandonment issues first hand, knew how you had been left behind before, from one bad owner to another. 

“You’re going to sell me and leave me with a mean owner and I’m gonna die of hunger and thirst - and - and —“

“Not gonna leave you, princess,” John crooned, covering your face in kisses as you hiccuped and sniffled, clinging to his clothes, “you know that. My favorite puppy. Pretty girl.”

Despite your tears and small sobs, your tail wagged at his words, “silly puppy,” he mused with a smile, gently scratching your lower back, “‘m not gonna sell you. Ale and Rodolfo are looking for a hybrid, I figured we could go look at the auction as well.”

“What if - what if - what if you’ll like them more?” You sniffled dramatically, sure that your life was only going to become worse than it already was. One thing was this bloody farm and the crate, another thing was having to share Price. You didn’t like the idea one bit. If that happened, you were going to show him how a proper tantrum was thrown - the crate would probably be the least of your worries.

As if to prove his love, John bent you over the table, fucking you in between the clattering dishes and cutlery, tea and coffee almost spilling over. Despite how many times your owner fucked you, it made you lose control of your mind every single time. His cock reached so deep inside you that it bordered on pain, your mouth open as you panted and moaned at each thrust; your soft stomach being pressed against the edge of the table, one hand holding onto the back of your collar, the other on your tail. The table rattled, John groaned and moaned, your fingers desperately trying to hold onto anything. 

“My princess,” he snarled darkly into your ear, “you’ll always be mine-“ a moan, a grunt, “- no matter what happens, yeah?”

“Yes ye-ah- yes, sir, I’m yours - ah ah - I’m yours!” you managed in between pants and wails of pleasure, fear of abandonment forgotten in the ocean of euphoric satisfaction. 

You came harder than you had for a while; the reminder of your worth, of how you deserved his worship, making you cream around his throbbing length, legs in spasms afterwards. He pushed deeper, filling you up with a loud roar like sound, his hands moving to grab onto the fat of your ass and hips as he came. Pain and pleasure made your toes curl and a content sigh left you, your tail wagging against Price as he chuckled.

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The auction hall was filled to the brim with humans and hybrids alike. Every owned hybrid followed their respective owners, all wearing mandatory leashes so no pets would be confused with the ones that were being sold. You wore your own pink one with pride, gem stones sparkling. A matching leash connected to the D-ring on it, that also bore your tags. You were convinced yours were the most beautiful in this entire place.

“They’re bonded,” Laswell pointed out, pointing to the papers that hung nearby, showing off general information about them, “gotta get all three.”

You dared to look at the little board with the informations about the three hybrids they were looking at.

“Ah, we don't have space for three, mi amor.”

“eso es una pena,” Rodolfo answered, while you looked over at John - who kept looking at the three hybrids. You dared to peek over at them.

All three of them were enormous .

Two of them wore muzzles, meaning they were biters. At least at the auction. You shouldn’t judge then, not really, but you did... Even though you had worn a muzzle five years ago, when Price had chosen you. You hadn’t tried biting people out of malice; you had been scared and angry at the world. Angry for being abandoned once more, over the fact that you were most likely being passed on to another abusive master. You leaned a little closer to Price, taking in his scent.

Even from the start, despite all the problems and your attitude problems, he had been sweet. Strict at times — probably not enough — but kind.

The biggest one looked like a Great Pyrenees breed, most likely. The fur on his ears and tail looked shorter, badly cut. Probably due to matting or if he refused to get it cut. His hair, a dark blonde almost brown, was in a buzz cut. He had scars, all over - unable to hide because of the lack of clothes most hybrids were given, only underwear. There was a lot in his face, though you suspected a bunch were hidden by the muzzle. He stared into nothing, his ears curled back, though they moved now and again, listening to different sounds.

“Hard to get sold,” Laswell commented and you looked over at her in synchronicity with John, “they’re ex-military.”

Like he had been called to them, a man who wore one of the seller badges appeared.

“They’re obedient once they fall into place,” he happily explained, going full seller-mode, “they’re just not too fond of the auctions - too many people.”

“Makes sense,” Price mused, clearly interested - much to your annoyance. The fact that he asked follow up questions made you frown, fingers tightening in his shirt. He was here to look. To help Alejandro and Rodolfo, who both had continued their walk. You dared to look over at the hybrids again. All three were staring at you and John. 

“How come they were discharged?”

“One of them got a hearing loss -“ he nodded towards them, “the one with the mohawk. And they’re a bonded pack.”

“So only retiring him was out of the question,” John concluded once more looking over at them.

You felt your tail go in between your legs. He couldn’t be seriously considering those three . you couldn’t help but let out a small whine. Price gave your leash a little tug.

“They’re working dogs,” the seller continued, his eyes flickering to you, making you huff, “so they’ll need something to do, not just be pets.”

“Oh I know. I have a farm. Need some work dogs - this one isn’t guarding much.”

They all laughed, your tail going even further between your legs with embarrassment.

“You can’t be serious,” you whined in a whisper to John, not caring that you sounded needy - spoiled would Laswell had said and you ignored her as she rolled her eyes.

“Hush, Princess.” John didn’t even look at you.

“You have animals there?” The seller asked, “one of them is a herding dog - the border collie.”

“I do - several. That’s why there's a need for guarding dogs as well, bloody wolves have been terrorizing us.”

You knew he was telling the truth; he had muttered about dead sheeps and goats several times - even a calf had lost its life to the wolves in the area, despite he and Laswell having shot two already. Even foxes had gotten into the coop, despite the fences.

“They’re good at that too, with their training,” the seller offered, clearly interested in selling them or at least getting John to bid on them. “The one with the mohawk, Soap , will have hearing aids with him, so you don’t need to worry about that.”

You looked over at this “Soap”, scrunching your nose. They were still staring, the biggest one bending down to listen to the third one, a beautiful black man, whisper in his ear. No doubt judging you.

“It says here they don’t do well with others,” you muttered, in a desperate attempt to sway John, pointing to the board with their papers. It did indeed say so, to which you wanted to argue that YOU should be his main focus in this whole thing - how would he even consider adding them to your household if these dogs could get a hold of you?

“It’s in the sense that they’re not really housetrained to be social family pets,” the seller swooped in, pushing your argument away, annoying you even more, “they’ve had missions all their lives. They need to have something to do.”

“I’m sure you’ll get along with them, sweetheart,” Price answered, giving you a small scratch beneath your chin as he finally looked over at you, a glint in his eyes, “some company will do you good.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. Hardly . Price’s smile told you that he thought this was a great idea however. You dared to look at the men again. Still staring, fucking bastards.

The black man seemed like a mix of some breeds, German shepherd and… you looked shortly at the board. Belgian malinois. Fancy. He wasn’t as tall as the big one, but broad and with scars as well. There was a more slender look to him, but his six pack proved he was strong. His curly hair wasn’t too long, probably cut not too long ago. He was looking at you curiously, making you raise your upper lip a little, as if to warn him.

The one with the hearing loss looked like some sort of border collie - covered in scars as well, some of his skin looking like it had been too close to fire. He was broad like the two others, his upper arms the size of your head. He even sent you a cheeky grin, even daring to wink at you. You just looked away, tipping your chin up a little.

“You can look closer if you want, sir?”

You were pulled back into the conversation at once and before you could argue, John had already passed on your leash to Laswell and walked towards the men with the seller. You whined, distressed that he was really, actually considering this.

“You’ll be fine,” Laswell commented calmly, with empathy in her voice for once, though she didn’t look at you, merely at John and the others.

“He is gonna lose interest in me,” you whined, perhaps a little dramatically, bottom lip wobbling a little as you could feel tears welling up in your eyes, “then he’ll leave me in the crate all day and only care about them an—“

“Calm down,” Laswell said, “you’ll work yourself into a fuss.”

“He can’t do this to me,” you argued in a sullen voice, already imagining John forgetting all about you, focusing on these three hybrids for the rest of his life, leaving you cold and lonely inside the dog crate - maybe even rehoming you, “he promised he wouldn’t get rid of me.”

“You’re being dramatic,” Laswell answered just as calmly as before, “John loves you too much, you’re just being spoiled. Hanging out with some working dogs will do you good.”

“They probably have fleas,” you said, your prejudices seeping into your words, knowing you’re being mean, judgmental against your own kind, “they’ll kill me and eat my dead body.”

Laswell laughed. “No they won’t. Worst thing they’ll do, is probably knock you up.”

A high pitched, scandalized sound left you, despite knowing you had an implant. Laswell laughed again, giving your leash a little yank and then scratching you behind your long ears.

“Settle, Princess. That won’t happen without John’s permission.”

You almost cried at the sight of John shaking the seller’s hand.

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They all met up again for the actual auction part and you sat at John’s feet, sniffling a little. Crying hadn’t helped, in fact John had just petted and kissed you, calling you sensitive. Alejandro had gotten a hybrid earlier that they didn’t need to bid on - she was for sale for a certain price. Something about being too intense without enough space to roam, having attacked others before.

Fucking great. Beasts all around you.

John won the bidding on the three working dog hybrids he had been interested in - because of course he did. He spent way too much money on them too, according to you.

One more - or well, three more fucking things to hate about this “farming life” that had been forced upon you.

Maybe John had gone mad.

next chapter ->

[lazyneonrabbitt]

The better girlfriend

Daryl Dixon x reader | SMUT🔞 [pt.1]

Having some alone time with Daryl in the woods was not as alone as you expected. But you won in the end so it was worth the drama.

It had been a good few months of being with Daryl and developing your relationship into the well oiled machine it had become these days.

Daryl had invited you to go hunting with him so you could spend some alone time away from the community, thinking the woods would be the best place to get some peace and quiet. Just the two of you in the vast greens of the forest.

There hadn't been many walkers around the area, to your luck, you thought. You had been dying to ask Daryl if he was willing to fuck you up against a tree, or at the edge of the lake when the weather allows for swimming.

"Look there." Daryl's hand found your shoulder to pull you in front of him, sandwiched between the large tree and his body. "Righ' there." His breath fanned your ear as his fingers pointed at an animal in the distance.

Or, you thought he was pointing at one, because you weren't seeing anything remotely resembling an animal in the direction of his fingers.

Were you truly that much of a sucky hunter?

"Dee, I don't see any--" The hand that pointed before dropped to your hip so he could grind against you.

"R'member ya sayin' ya watched. Was cuz ya were jealous, aint it?" His voice was low and gravely, barely above a whisper. "Lemme make this huntin' teip a lil' less boring for ya." The crossbow formerly in Daryl's hands was set on the ground, along with your bags, coats, anything but the pants pulled down to Daryl's thighs and the ones dangling from your leg.

"Tap me when yer legs don' want no more." With a swift lick of his lips he moved down to his knees and stuck his fave between your legs. His beard scraped your thighs and his tongue left a trail of heat in its wake. "Oh fuck, Daryl.."

Moving a leg for better acces Daryl now held you up with one hand on your hip and one on the back of your thigh as he lapped at you like he hadn't had a meal in weeks. "Hahh... ahh." You needed a hand up at your mouth to keep yourself from getting too loud. Daryl's wet, sloppy sounds were at least slightly muffled by the plush of your legs that you felt getting slicker by the second as they slowly started to buckle thr closer you got to your first orgasm of the day. Your hand found his hair, "Daryl.. close.." a harsh tug at the roots had Daryl tighten his grip on your hips and let out a vulgar moan against your clit, wrapping his lips back around it to finish you off. He made sure to lick you clean before pulling you down to his level and laying you down on the forest floor.

Daryl crawled over you, staring down at you like a predator ready to devour its prey. The lower half of his face still glitening with your slick and his thick cock dripping in anticipation.

"Looks like you enjoyed yourself too, dear." Your legs went to wrap around his ass and pull his down to you, feeling him press against your centre. Daryl sat up on his haunches to get a nice view of where his cock slowly pushed into your wet heat, rocking back and forth at a steady pace with his large hands on your hips and your legs wrapped around his waist.

Daryl only got a few rough thrusts in before feeling that familiar tug already, wanting to apologize for how short he'd last but the excitement of having you on his turf got the best of him. He finished without a warning, a loud, animalistic groan leaving him as he slumped forward. One hand landing right next to your head on the forest floor and his face inches from you, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath. He panted as he caught his breath, still semi hard inside of you making you want to squeeze your walls around him. Each little squeeze had him whimper, quickly falling to his elbows with his face in the crook of your neck. You could feel him getting hard fast, continuing to pant against your skin as his thrusts started to slowly pick up again. "You feel so good, Dee." Your hand found his hair and tangled your fingers into the strands, keeping his head in place as he rutted into you like an animal chasing its release.

"S'like heaven.." Daryl's entire world disappeared in that moment. There was just him and you, intertwined on a bed of leaves.

With Daryl's face buried in the crook of your neck it was your job to keep an eye on your surroundings, slowly moving your head towards the soft rustle of leaves that had you stare right into the eyes of the hag herself.

Daryl's ex stood further off between the trees with someone you barely recognised. With looking straight into the eyes of thr woman you put your hand back in Daryl's hair, tugging at the roots and earning a loud moan. Your heels dug deeper in Daryl's back, making him thrust even deeper, having you moaning out loud too. Daryl's hand moved in response, finding the closest piece of fabric to wipe his fingers on before moving his hand up to your face and stuffing two thick fingers between your lips to silence you.

All the while your eyes were still glued to hers.

Daryl had noticed nothing of the interaction by the time you returned all your attention to him, quietly whining you were close and getting a likeminded answer in return and not long after laying in each other's embrace, enjoying the afterglow and catching your breaths.

While you got wiped down and dressed you decided to give Daryl the much needed heads up. "Your lovely ex girlfriend and some douche walked by earlier."

Daryl's eyes moved to meet you as he buttoned up his shirt, lifting a brow as a dign to continue. "Yeah, so expect comments as soon as we see them back home."

An affirmative grunt was all you got in reply as you continued to get ready to move on again.

Your checkup along all of Daryl's traps became more of a repair session between cut ropes and raided traps. Not a single one was left untouched.

"No' only did they see us, they had ta break the damn traps too?" Daryl was quick to blame the two, seeing some were undone properly.

"Surprises me she actually listened for once, then. She remembered how to undo this kind." While you busied yourself setting the trap up properly again, Daryl was a few treea down entirely re-stringing one that got cut down in order to take the animal out. "Bet they're back home lyin' their asses off with stolen game."

There was venom in his tone. Daryl had only a few rules when it came to his work in the woods and normally everyone kept to those.

"Rick will know they took it, he'll call them out on their shit."

Your offer to go fishing was denied without a second thought. Daryl was done.

It hurt you to see him so defeated, and you hated how one person could dismiss the community's rules so easily for their own profit.

You came home with nothing, but the guards didn't seem surprised. Only a quick "Rick took care of it." before you moved on.

Before you went back to your house you stopped by Olivia to report the used materials for the repaired traps and swung by the pantry for something easy to eat.

You were about halfway home and couldn't avoid running into the one person you hoped not to see today. Across the street where you had to pass was her home, currently being used to house a get together of the women's clique. And all eyes were on the two of you.

Daryl tried his best to just look ahead and keep moving on, but the second you were right across her home your walk was interupted.

"You just Had to go see how good he is in the woods huh?" The shrill sounding callout was impossible to ignore and had you stop dead in your tracks, Daryl almost stumbling into you. The hand on your side that clearly meant to steer you away did nothing.

"Oh I Know Daryl's good at anything he does in the woods. Didn't need to have seen your squealing hog impressions to figure that out." You made your way across the street. "He's so good in the woods people need to steal from him and flaunt what's obviously his handywork."

"Besides," you cocked your head to the side in a thinking manner. "I could have sworn you thought he was horrible in bed. So what changed your mind?"

Daryl was silently praying for the pavement to swallow him whole at that moment, but then he wouldhave missed the stammering that was happening in front of him.

With all eyes now on her there were no words that could save her from this fuck up.

"Well?" There was a shit eating grin on your face that only added fuel to the fire that was her beet red face, full of anger but unable to form a proper response.

Daryl's side met with yours as his arm snaked around your back and he pressed a kiss to your hair. It was a small gesture, but it had enough impact to take the win as you two watched her walk off in a rage.

The others that still found themselves on her porch gave you two a shrug as they looked to where she disappeared off to. A few "sorry"'s and "I don't know either"'s came from them as you turned to make your way back home.

"Ya know wha'?" Daryl's hand squeezed your hip as you walked home side by side.

With raised brows and a soft smile you looked at him, the soft sunlight highlighting everything you found so beautiful about him.

"M'glad ya saved me from 'er." His hand slid from your body to take yours, lacing together your fingers and playfully bumping shoulders.

On the turn onto your yard Daryl stopped you with a soft tug on your arm, turning you towards him.

You watched him get in his head for a moment, but his hands found yours. The soft slide of his calloused fingertips over the skin of your arms down to the palms of your hands as he took them both in his again.

With a soft steadying breath he leaned in for a most gentle kiss. It took you off guard at first, Daryl never kissed you in public and now he was holding on to you like this for everyone to see.

You kissed him back with the same intensity he was giving, sharing maybe the most intimate moment you've had.

When you broke apart for air Daryl's breath was shaky, the nerves still clear as day in every fiber of his being.

But he was smiling.

Eyes squinted with the uncontrolable pull of the upward curve of his lips.

Your hands were still held in his when Daryl came back to earth. The blue in his eyes overflowing with everything he was feeling in this moment, but only one stood out.

"I love ya. More than anythin' else in the world. Aint no one gon' change tha'."

A/N: Thanks to a very excited sounding reply to the original fic we now have a second part!! I hope you all enjoyed it ♡♡

[pasukiyo]

THE WARMTH OF YOUR HAND

leon kennedy x f!reader word count: 1,473 warnings: angst, mentions of leon's alcohol use, not proofread synopsis: leon doesn't believe in much. but if there's one thing he knows is for certain to be true, it's that he doesn't deserve you.

 Leon doesn’t believe in much. The kind of work he does has stripped him of that ability. He stopped believing in more than just God, he stopped believing in people, in the world, in himself. Leon doesn’t believe in much but if there was one thing he could know for certain to be true, it was that he didn’t deserve her. 

 How could he?

 She sleeps in zen beside him, one arm folded beneath her pillow, the other resting on the small sliver of space on the mattress between them where he dare not touch. She must be dreaming, because Leon can see her eyes rolling beneath their lids. She must be dreaming of something good, because Leon traces the small curve of her lips, a peaceful, subconscious smile he finds himself envious of. 

 Leon cannot remember the last time he, himself, had a good dream. His ability to dream must’ve been stripped away along with his ability to believe long ago, when he learned just how short his luck had run out. Perhaps his inability to dream was why she took him so much by surprise. 

 He’d learned to accept that his life moving forward would always be far from normal long ago. Any dreams he might’ve had prior— whether it was the so-called “American Dream” of white picket fences and a golden retriever in a perfectly trimmed, green front lawn and a litter of kids that look just like him or not— he knew was far beyond his reach now.

 It was why he turned to drink in the first place. He mourned the loss of a life he would never know, mourned the death of his former self: the cop, the rookie, the young adult, the teenager, the boy. It was unlike any other pain he knew— it could not be suppressed with medicine or bandages— so all he knew to do was to make do with what he had: drink. 

 It was a time in his life he wished he could forget. Funny how it works— somehow, he’d lost any sense of the man he was before Raccoon City despite how desperately he tried to cling to the dying embers of his boyhood, whilst simultaneously unable to forget the man he’d temporarily become. Was this some force punishing him? Was this his punishment for being unbelieving? 

 Leon didn’t know, and the more he tried to make sense of his fucked-up life, the more his head would pound, the more he’d feel himself inching closer to the bottle he swore he’d never touch again when he met her. These thoughts of his, these doubts, this disbelief in himself and anything around him, was what made him feel so undeserving of this woman— this woman who was currently bundled beneath sheets and a duvet, lost in dream, so clean, so pure and entirely too good to be true. 

 Sometimes Leon thinks he must not have lost the ability to dream after all, for he cannot stop thinking that all of this is just an illusion, this woman but a mere figment of whatever small part of him that still believed, and he’d wake up to Raccoon City, or Spain, or who fucking knows what. 

 Leon’s molars sink into the inside of his cheek in hopes to dull the ache prodding against the crown of his head and blinks down at her hand, still resting in the space between them. The only source of light in her bedroom is the moonlight peeking through her curtains but it’s enough for him to make out her skin, to make out the lines etched into the tops of her fingers. 

 Her knuckles are not blue, or purple, or calloused, or terribly scarred. Her knuckles are clean and were always soft to the touch— Leon closes his eyes and can feel the phantom of her knuckles dragging along his cheek, over his scars, over the moles he couldn’t quite feel but knew were there. He inhales sharply and opens his eyes, pushing himself into an upright position, exhaling heavily as he drags a palm— a rough, calloused palm— over his face. 

 He peers around the dark, moon-lit room, at his jacket slung messily over the back of her vanity chair, one of his shoes beside her closed bedroom door, the other rolled onto its side beneath her closed wardrobe. He realizes just how out of place he feels and is— and it serves as just another reminder that he doesn’t deserve to be here, he doesn’t deserve her, he doesn’t deserve any of this. 

 He inhales shakily and drops his head, rubbing the crown of his head and his temple with the pads of his thumb and forefinger in an attempt to ease the ache festering there. The bed suddenly feels too warm and makes him feel even more out of place but he can’t bring himself to pull away from it, not when he can feel her feet brushing up against his leg as she squirms in her sleep. 

 His heart begins to pound in his chest. His mind begins to reel. 

 You do not belong here, a slick, oily voice curls around his ears and for a moment, he thinks he must be back in Spain and this is all just some sick form of joke. You are poison, and you are ruining her. You are an imposter, a wolf in sheep’s clothing. You should leave. She does not want you here. You do not deserve her. And you will never deserve her. You do not deserve her, you do not deserve her, you do not deserve her, youdonotdeserveheryoudonotdeserveheryoudonot—

 “Leon?”

 Her voice, thick with sleep but still devastatingly sweet, interrupts the voice in his head and he snaps his eyes back open, searching through the wrinkles in the duvet because he doesn’t know what to do but he knows he cannot look at her. If he looks at her, he won’t ever leave. If he looks at her, he’ll only linger and ruin her further. If he looks at her, he will be her demise. He just knows it. It’s the one thing he believes in. 

 He hears the sheets ruffle and the bed creak as she moves behind him and he suddenly feels something against his elbow. Leon startles and flinches away, and he swears he can hear a faint gasp behind him. His brows knit together and he bows his head, squeezing his lids closed. 

 “What is it?” She asks him, alert, aware something is wrong. Damn her, he thinks. She’s much too intuitive for her own good. 

 When he doesn’t reply, she asks again, daring to inch closer to his side. He can see a few locks of her hair fall into the outskirts of vision and his breath hitches in his throat. It suddenly feels like he can’t breathe and he thinks he might break out into a sweat and he feels so out of place and so undeserving that he thinks he’ll explode. His breathing begins to quicken and his mind begins to spiral and vision begins to blur and he doesn’t know what to do because he can’t move and—

 “Hey,” her voice sounds closer now and he knows she must be because he feels her palm press firm into the center of his chest and his eyes snap back open to find hers already staring back. “Head’s being loud again, hm?”

 Leon’s brow dips and his gaze softens because he knows he cannot win when she looks at him like that, when she speaks to him like that, when she knows him like that when everyone else failed to. He’s suddenly aware of just how hard he’s breathing because his gaze drops to her arm and how it rises with his chest. Her hand is warm against his chest but not so much that it is stifling, and not so less that his bones catch a chill. Her warmth is just right and Leon closes in on himself and lets his head drop to her shoulder, closing his eyes and inhaling, breathing her in. 

 “Oh Leon,” she murmurs against the top of his head, her hand slithering away from his chest to rest warmly on the back of his neck, her other weaving through his tendrils and comfortably tightening around his locks. “Why don’t we lay back down, yeah?”

 Leon doesn’t believe in much. The one thing he knows for certain he can believe in is that he does not deserve her. He doesn’t deserve her speaking to him like this, touching him like this, caring for him like this. But as she eases him back down into the mattress and cradles his head closer to her chest, he begins to ponder something he’d never pondered before: perhaps there is a way to disprove any certain belief. 

a/n: it has been... quite awhile since i last wrote something. admittedly, i haven't even been working on my books (thank you work and college 🫠) but... a lot has happened the past few weeks. a lot of things from lots of different reasons. so i just really wanted to write some comfort :) (of course i had to throw in some angst)

just a side note: i wrote this literally twenty minutes ago so this is not proofread whatsoever 🤩

TAGLIST:

@chaoticevilbakugo

@bxbyyyjocelyn

@luckypurins

@corruptcoder

@glovesandhorror

@angelstargel

@illsksm

@echo1200

@d3adp00ls

@woahhajime

@leonkennedygvrl

@elliewilliamshotwife

@altissia-09

@danigirls-missions

@gorrykookie

@luvrgreyy

@arisksywlkr

[biolumien]

but thankfully, the wind...

notes: do not ask me how much research i did for this. the answer is that while wikipedia is a helpful source, i wonder if i am missing out on the real info, trenches deep in a 39 page article about fertility and marriage in the heian period...

also this will be multichapter. peace and love on planet earth!

samurai!soshiro hoshina x fem!reader reader throws hands. this is an arranged marriage fic word count: 1364

there was never any room for love in your life. you knew that much. your eventual arranged marriage—because it was never a choice, really, it was an inevitability—would always be for political reasons. 

your family wasn’t a particularly powerful one—you were the daughter of a dying clan with no male heir, so your father was desperate to find you a good match. to sell you off to the most desperate buyer, you’d say archly, glaring at him. at night, while you listened to the chirping of summer cicadas turn to fall crickets and then to the dull silence of winter, you wished that your father’s search for an appropriate marriage candidate would fail, that the matchmaker would find no one. 

eventually, however, your family would receive a marriage offer from the hoshina clan. 

the hoshina clan was a name that held great prestige—its sons were known for their swordsmanship, for a lineage of honorable and noble samurai. but recently, the name seemed to take on a more negative light—rumors of the eldest son, soichiro hoshina, running off to become a lawless ronin and forcing the second son, soshiro hoshina, to take on the mantle of heir. 

you’d watched as your father celebrated his good luck—his good luck at finding you a partner. the blight on the hoshina name aside, the prestige of a family of well-known and reputable samurai could be enough to pull your family out of its dying state. 

but your life, as far as you were concerned, was basically over. 

you wanted nothing to do with the prestige of anything. what did it matter, that the hoshina clan was of great renown? of course, you knew that you’d never marry for love—but even a caged bird dreams of the opportunity of getting to fly on its own, surely. you dreamed of a possibility of marrying for love—that you’d meet some nice man that would whisk you away to the countryside, where you could live out the rest of your life.

but you’d be forced to abandon that dream now. 

and so, while your family and the hoshina clan arranged meetings through the matchmaker, you mourned the end of your life. 

but for better or for worse, soshiro hoshina… was an interesting man. 

he was very quiet, or that’s what you thought for the most part, at least. he spoke softly, sharply towards his father, but would smile cautiously towards you—but in a way where you could tell it was a clear mask, all a part of the facade of the good son, the soon-to-be-wed husband following tradition. 

his hair was just long enough to be tied back into a small bun, and the kimono he wore was a stark black with the faintest hint of violet–the kind of dye saved only for royalty, the high nobility. his hakama was that same shade of violet,  a clear sign of wealth, in any case. 

when he deigned to look at you, you found his eyes were a bright scarlet. 

the first two meetings of your omiai were nothing much of note. soshiro was simply calm, watching you. even when you were given time alone with him, he never made any attempt to touch you, nor to speak. the first time he’d done it, you’d tried to fill the air with words, only for him to just watch you. your face flushed from embarrassment and something like anger, and you’d lifted up your sleeve to hide the wave of emotions crossing your face. 

you’d never asked to be married to this man. so why wouldn’t he speak to you? why did he have to look at you like he pitied you and was upset at this whole fraught affair?

the third meeting was always the one of most importance. it was an implicit agreement to marriage—and despite knowing there was no way your father would have let you say no to the third meeting, you faced it with a sort of irrational upset. it was like standing in front of a precipice that you couldn’t back away from—acknowledging the cliff but still being forced down it. 

this time, soshiro stood in front of you, his father absent. two katanas were sheathed at his side, their handles interwoven with fine black and golden cord. 

“my father suggested that the two of us take our time to be alone today,” soshiro says, looking at your father first, before turning to you. “shall we, then?”

“as if i could say no,” you say, your voice gentle and lilting. you remember your lessons—when you got married, you would be forced to hide your horns, so to speak—your shame and your anger, jealousy and desperation. the feelings that were utterly unbecoming for you—or so your father and mother would say. 

you guide soshiro through the halls of your home, guiding him towards the room your father had set aside for the omiai—it was beautiful, ornate, delicately furnished, of course, with a balcony leading out to a beautiful garden. 

as you folded your legs to sit down, soshiro remained standing.  

“i suppose it might shock you,” soshiro says. soshiro’s voice was soft. gentle. “the marriage offer, and the suddenness of it.” 

his eyes flit to the beautiful garden outside. you know the truth of it—it’s beautiful, but it’s a gilded thing, hiding the rot and abandonment underneath. your family’s legacy in a nutshell, you think bitterly. a collection of power plays and alliances in a desperate attempt to curry favor, to maintain the idea that there was still something good here. as if any of this was worth saving. 

“it doesn’t shock me at all,” you say, trying to keep the bitterness from rising in your voice. “we all have roles we must play. and mine was always destined to be this.” 

“i never wanted to be married,” soshiro says. “the role of a faithful husband and proper heir was always more emphasized for my brother.” 

you laugh archly, delicately, raising yourself to your feet. 

from within a pocket in your kimono’s sleeve, you unsheath a beautiful and ornate knife. the gift had been from the hoshina clan—when your father had opened the gift, he’d sounded extremely honored to have received it— something about the knife representing the hoshina clan’s hopes that you would bear for them a son that might become a sword prodigy as well. 

as you raise the knife to soshiro’s throat, you simply smile. you think it might be an expression unbecoming of a woman of your station—the soon-to-be bride of a samurai. soshiro’s eyes simply watch yours. he doesn’t even shake, his hands not even moving to the katana sheathed at his side. somehow, that irritates you. does he think so little of you that he wouldn’t even raise his sword against you? 

“i truly do apologize,” you murmur, venom in your voice. “it must be such an inconvenience for you, huh? to be married to the daughter of a dying clan, as the second, disgraced and unwanted son.” you press the knife further—not enough to draw blood, but the threat of it, you hoped, conveyed enough. 

“i didn’t have a say in any of this, though,” you say. “when your family’s offer came, all i was told was how honored i should be that the hoshina clan picked me. that my family could’ve picked any other clan, a worse and older samurai that would’ve wanted me for different reasons.” 

soshiro’s gaze fixates on the dagger pointed at his neck, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. 

you drop the dagger on the ground.

the blade slices into the tatami mats, embedding itself there. 

“but of course. i will sympathize with you, for solidarity’s sake. we’re both doing things we’d rather not be doing.”

you walk past him, moving for the door. 

you raise your hand, touching the corner of the folding screen. you try not to think about how it would feel to punch a hole through it.

“i’ll see you for the betrothal ceremony,” you say. you turn to him, and you think you must be the picture-perfect appearance of a vengeful, resentful spirit. “but don’t you dare ever sympathize with me again.”

[carbondioxidewater]

Make A Move (Pt. 5)

footballplayer!Sukuna x fem!reader

genre: slow-burn romance, college au, fluff, angst

warnings: none so far

word: 3.1

(-> Pt. 1) (-> Pt. 2) (-> Pt. 3) (-> Pt. 4) (-> masterlist)

On sunday morning, you woke up early, even though you hadn't been sleeping much. The events of the previous day came back to you one after the other. First, you thought about the game and Sukuna's impressive skills in it.

You reflected on the motorcycle ride with him and how he drove you to the Rainbow Bridge just so you could see the city at night. That must've been one of the most thoughtful things anyone has ever done for you. You turned over on your side in your bed, smiling.

And then you remembered how you almost kissed and how he treated you completely different later at the party than when you were alone. A feeling of embarrassment washed over you again at the thought that everyone present had noticed Sukuna not wanting to kiss you. Not that you were dying to feel his soft lips, probably salty from the sweat - no, that wasn't it. Because even if that were the case, it was more the fact of how and why he rejected you that was bothering you.

But asking him was out of the question. After all, you still had enough pride left to not give him that pleasure. After all, he wasn't obliged to kiss you. You shouldn't let anything show, otherwise he might get the wrong idea. And with that mentality, you went to your first lecture on Monday.

After the lecture, you entered the cafeteria. Today they cooked vegetarian pasta again and it always tasted delicious. You grabbed a plate, had it filled up, and walked over to the where the silverware was. As you were putting down your tray, someone spoke up directly from the side.

"I got your message, by the way."

You weren't startled this time.

"Did you know that people usually greet each other before starting a conversation?" you expressed calmly and Sukuna burst out laughing. You always managed to entertain him.

"Sorry, hi princess."

"Hi." you said quietly, a gloomy feeling at the nickname. "What message?"

"Yuji told me he should wish me 'good luck' from you."

"So?"

"Well, I certainly was lucky, after all you really came. But..." he didn't finish his sentence, obviously waiting for your reaction. Was he really trying to flirt with you again? This man was difficult.

You took your tray and moved towards one of the tables. Of course Sukuna followed you and sat down on the opposite chair. You sighed.

"But what, Sukuna? What do you want?" you asked in annoyance.

"You should give me your number. I couldn't even make sure you got home safe on Saturday." he flashed his shiny white teeth at you.

"Why do you care? I went home with my friends." you said, but not snippy, more in a neutral tone.

"I know that." he simply returned and didn't seem to have anything else to say. He just looked at you.

Seriously? He doesn't mention what happened at all? Well, if he can act like nothing happened, so can you.

"I don't like being watched while eating." you said bluntly and Sukuna couldn't help but smile.

"Why, are your table manners so terrible?" he countered. You puffed.

"Aren't you hungry?" you then asked, whereupon he told you that he had already eaten.

"I saw you and with you the opportunity."

"The opportunity for what?" you then questioned.

"Asking you for your number."

"You have my address already, that should be enough."

You would not let him get any closer to you.

He chuckled and you ate the first forkful of pasta.

"So you don't want to give it to me?" he carried on.

"Obviously not."

"Okay, I'll find a way. Oh, and enjoy your meal." he winked at you. And then he stood up and left the table.

Finally you could eat in peace.

You didn't see him for the next few days, which gave you enough time to concentrate on your studies. It was thursday evening and you had to give in your assignment for neurolinguistics, the due date was today. You quickly finished explaining how the priming effect works, when suddenly Utahime entered your room with the mail in her hand.

"Oh, are you finished for today already?" you asked, referring to her job, to which she nodded.

"But look at this!" she said, astonished, and waved a letter in front of your face.

The letter was addressed to you, but had no sender. Strange.

You opened it and the content was a single sheet of paper with a few lines written on it.

"You're right, your address is enough. If you don't want to give me your number, I'll have to try this way ;)"

Your face immediately heated up, you never thought he would go out of his way like that. But what was he doing that for? What was his ulterior motive?

Utahime saw your shocked face and read the letter. Then she laughed.

"Wow, he's really trying. Have you eaten yet? Should we order something?"

And together, you ended the evening with a juicy pizza.

But on the next day, you found a note in your locker too. You opened the folded paper and it said:

"Meet me under the bleachers"

Oh God, your heart was pounding. Just what was he thinking?

You decided to meet him at the stands to ask him to stop this whole thing. Even though you were really flattered by the attention, it still hurt your ego that he apparently thought he could win you over like that. Was it working? Maybe a little, but he didn't have to know that. And you definitely wouldn't fall for it any further.

When you finally got there, there was no sign of him. You asked the few players practicing on the field about him.

"Sukuna? No, he's not here. As far as I know he has a philosophy class right now."

Philosophy? You didn't even know that was his second subject. But that explained why he was around you so often, because philosophy and linguistics were taught in the same building. But why did he send you here then? Nothing he did made sense and you were slowly getting fed up with this chaos.

You were just on your way back into the building when all of a sudden, you bumped into someone's back on accident. He turned around and to your surprise, it was the menace himself.

"Careful." he laughed lightly. But you were a bit pissed at him right now and just walked past him. He walked after you.

"Hey, where are you going?" he yelled.

"I don't feel like playing your games. Find someone else to annoy." you said without even looking at him.

He grabbed your wrist and brought you to a stop. When you tried to escape his grip, he blocked you with his arm and caged you in.

"Calm down. What's going on with you?" Sukuna exclaimed.

"No, what's going on with you? Why do you leave those notes in my locker, arrange a meeting and then don't come?"

"That's what it is about?" He chuckled. "Now do you see how complicated it is? If I had your number, you would have known when I wrote the message."

You were flabbergasted, was that really his plan behind all this? To show you the need to exchange numbers?

"Or you can just write the time next time!" you spat out.

"Next time? So you like when I leave you letters?" he smirked and upset you with his presumptuous words.

"Don't twist my words..." you pouted and looked to the side. He let you go now, you had calmed down.

"Then what do you say: We have another game next Friday. If we win, I get your number, if we lose... well, you can choose."

"Why do you want my number so badly?" you probed.

"Because I like you. You're fun to be around."

This confession knocked you off balance, but you swallowed your speechlessness. In the end, two could play that game.

"Okay, if you lose, you'll never ask me for my number again." You smiled mischievously and he followed suit, tilting your chin upwards with his big hand before responding.

"It's settled then."

You stayed at Shoko's for the weekend, since you wanted to binge-watch the new season of your series. Utahime didn't like the show and had to work anyway, so it was just the two of you tonight.

After a few episodes, however, it turned into a deep talk session. You told Shoko everything that had happened with Sukuna so far and she reprimanded you for getting into this 'pact'.

"His team will win either way, the only ones who would have a chance against them are the UOT." she explained and you thought about her words.

UOT? Of course! They say their quarterback is on par with Sukuna. They are the biggest rivals!

"Are they gonna play against each other too?" you wondered.

"I think not until the very end of the season. That's the most important game after all."

The end of the season... So in about 8 weeks. But wait a minute...

"How do you even know that?" you stared at Shoko in amazement and she looked up at the ceiling.

"A few of my high school friends are on this team. Utahime knows them too."

"What? Why am I only finding out about this now?" you shifted in your seat, grinning at her. She shrugged.

"I never thought it was important. After all, you haven't been interested in football until now."

You nodded. Then your phone rang. You took it from the coffee table and saw that it was Utahime, but before you could even pick up, she already hung up.

"Who was it?" Shoko interrupted and you told her, but you two didn't think much of it.

You thought that maybe she called you on accident, so you sent her a message asking "are you okay?" and checked her location. She was still at the hotel. A few minutes later, she finally replied and confirmed that everything was indeed alright.

"Okay she just replied, she's fine. But next time we're all together, you two have to tell me more about your mysterious old friends." You waggled your eyebrows and Shoko laughed.

"Yeah, yeah, even if there's not really much to tell."

And then you were back in the stadium, this time, on your campus. It was a home game and the people on the stands were louder than at the last game, but this time you secured yourselves better seats. You were sitting in the front row now!

At the opening, all of the players walked onto the field and turned to the audience. Sukuna waved at the big crowd, his eyes moving from left to right, and finally rested his gaze on you, a small smirk spreading on his face. And then it was kickoff. As always, Sukuna's leading skills ensured a successful first half. It was clear that the team had been a unit for a long time, as well as they complemented each other.

After the first half, there was the usual break and you used it to quickly go use the bathroom. The line was long though, of course you weren't the only one who had to go after such a long time. But luckily, it quickly emptied and after you were done, the break was almost over. While the water was tingling on your hand, you heard a few girls coming in, chattering. You recognized the cheerleaders, one of them was the blonde girl named Manami.

"So, how are things going with Sukuna now?" asked Manami's friend.

At the mention of that name, you became very wary. You felt like you were eavesdropping, but you couldn't turn off your hearing sense after all.

"I think he likes me." Manami said the words dreamily, but you couldn't listen to their conversation any longer, because if you stayed at the sink for too long, you would attract their attention. You dried your hands and then went out the door.

What was their true relationship to each other? She thinks he likes her? What is he doing for her to think that? You had a weird gut feeling on your way back and when your friends noticed, they asked if you were okay. You lied to them and, thank goodness, that feeling disappeared as soon as the second half of the game started again.

And as Shoko predicted, your team won. The others weren't bad by any means, but Sukuna isn't feared in the world of football for nothing. He once again secured a great victory and after the game ended, his teammates all ran towards him to celebrate.

They picked him up and carried him to the front of the stands while you and the others clapped for their success. Many shouted his name, others shouted for the other players, but his grinning, smug look was only on you.

His comrades let him down and the crowd slowly started to leave the stands as Sukuna continued to keep you under his spell. He stepped on a bench in front of it, leaned his elbow on the railing of ​​the stands and pulled out a small piece of paper from his pocket. He pressed it between his fingers proudly and held it in front of his slightly tilted face, a mischievous smile on it, so that you could make out the numbers on the note.

You narrowed your eyes in an attempt to see more clearly and as the digits became visible, you recognized them as your phone number.

How did he-

You were about to ask him that, but Aoi intervened, jumping onto the bench and putting his arm over Sukuna's shoulder, happily dragging him into the locker room.

When you finally came down the stairs, you decided to wait for Sukuna outside. Your friends were talking about something you didn't pay attention to.

Then the door opened and you walked towards Sukuna expectantly, but he was stopped by Manami at that moment. You saw her putting her arm around his and how she walked to the parking lot with him. That made you abandon the whole plan and you went back home with your girls.

When you got there, you got a message from an unknown number.

unknown number: not even curious how I got your number?

That was definitely Sukuna. Your mood immediately worsened. You just couldn't figure him out. You threw your phone on the bed and made yourself something to eat. Cooking should calm you down, so you put on some music and started chopping. It took half an hour before you got the motivation to text him back.

you: aren't you out with the cheerleader right now?

You sent the message and threw your phone away from you again. Why had you been so direct? You were about to take your phone to delete the message, but Sukuna had already replied.

unknown number: oh you're curious about something else I see. u stalking me? ;)

you: no, I just saw you two together after the game. hope you had fun.

unknown number: yea sure had.

you: good for you.

Somehow the message came across as more bitter than you anticipated, and Sukuna also noticed the harsh tone.

unknown number: wait, you weren't seriously thinking I was after you, were you?

you: of course not? I was being genuine.

You were not. He typed.

unknown number: well then, that's good.

And then you left him on read. Asshole.

The whole weekend was spent trying to figure Sukuna out, but as much as you tried, his motives remained unclear to you. You even started listing different possibilities together with Shoko and Utahime, but for every idea there was something in Sukuna's behaviour that didn't add up. You set up three theories:

REASON NUMBER ONE: He really just likes you platonically. But then why did he flirt with you sometimes, why did he almost kiss you, why did he put in such an effort into getting your number?

REASON NUMBER TWO: He was just trying to get into your pants. Maybe there was something going on with this girl, Manami, and he didn't want her to find out. But then why did he never make a move on you like that? Apart from the teasing, he's never been disrespectful or dirty towards you.

And, this was the most unlikely one, but,

REASON NUMBER THREE: He had a serious interest in you. But then, why wouldn't he just be straight forward? Why was this girl all over him at all times? And why didn't he do something against it? Or was he keeping the both of you as mere options?

Whatever it was, it was getting on your nerves. And you decided you wanted to make clear to him that the both of you should either be friends or nothing.

You were just taking a few things out of your locker when there was a sudden bang next to you. You took the last book out of it and then looked at the source.

"Boo." Sukuna called out, pressing his lower arm against the locker. He was wearing a simple white sweater with the sleeves rolled up, but it was so tight that it highlighted his broad, big chest. His hand was clenched into a fist, which meant that you had a perfect view of his flexing muscles as well.

You gulped and tried not to let on how attractive that was to you, because you couldn't afford to seem weak in front of him.

"Wow I'm so scared." you commented and closed your locker.

"I bet you are, now that I've got your number." he claimed. Then you faced him.

"Where did you get it from anyway?" you wondered. You still didn't have a single clue.

He smiled wickedly again.

"Why don't you ask your friend Utahime?"

Safe to say that's not what you expected coming out of his mouth.

"You're lying." you doubted.

"Why would I do that?" he replied with a foxy grin.

You took a deep breath.

"Alright, I'm gonna ask her later. But can we stop with the constant banter, it's giving me a headache."

"Oh, why's that?" he came closer, but you pushed him away again.

"It was fun in the beginning, but it's getting annoying now. Let's just be normal friends." you proposed.

"Friends?" Sukuna raised an eyebrow gently, considering your words and quirking a small smile. "You wanna befriend me?" he seemed oddly delighted about that. You didn't know if he was poking fun at you or not.

"Yeah, isn't that what you wanted?" you inquired, dumbfounded by his reaction.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course. Alright, let's be friends then." he stared down at you, a gleam in his eyes that you couldn't make out.

Yes, it would definitely be better to be friends. That way, he wouldn't constantly irritate you with his mixed signals.

And with that, your friendship with the star player began.

RAHHH he's so confusing!!! Wdym you send me LETTERS to contact me?!?!?! And then say you're not after me? ARGHHH

What do you think his intentions are? As always, reblogs and comments are so so appreciated! I wanna hear your thoughts about it so bad! <3

taglist: @miakxn @aureliaborea @nonamevenus @silkija @sad-darksoul @joh-ahae @mysteriaqueen @rebirthbunbun @inflatabledinosaurs19

[deadsetobsessions]

AU of Gotham! Tim Drake! Danny where he doesn’t know the universe he was reincarnated into.

“Robin!” Batman barked. Tim sighed, loudly. Batman twitched.

“What is it, B?”

“Drills. Again.”

Tim rolled his eyes but moved to obey. Speaking to B these days was like speaking to a rather boorish caveman. Simple grunts and single word sentences. It didn't use to be like this but B was loosing his grip on his humanity and it’s Tim’s job to bring it back.

It’s hilarious because he’s the least human of them all. It was odd, juggling his duties as Danny Gotham, his responsibilities as Tim, and his workload as Bruce’s shiny new Robin. Somehow he made it work.

Yeah, sometimes B’s hands are heavy when they’re training. Sometimes he forgets Danny’s name (or at least his human name) and calls for Jason instead. Sometimes, he smells more like booze and less like Bruce.

Danny could handle it. Even if his core quivers with grief. He wished he didn’t have to, but he could and will handle whatever he needs to for his Knight to regain himself. But fuck, that doesn’t mean taking his self destructive habits lying down. He might be Tim right now, but as far as Batman knew, Tim was here on the orders of

“B.”

“Hm.”

Oh, a neutral grunt! I see we’ve upgraded to grunts instead of arm flapping! Holy detective, Batman! Aren’t I glad I learned to speak cave man? Wow! Tim mocked, in his head.

“You’re heading to bed when I’m done with this set,” Tim said.

“This case isn’t done,” Batman growled. Ancients, it was like speaking to a large chihuahua-toddler hybrid. All the barking, all the growling, and all the petulance of a child makes the entirety of how his Knight acted on a good day these days.

“That wasn’t a suggestion,” Tim shot back, sore arms and legs and everything working through the set. Thank the ancients for his healing, or else Tim might actually be dying.

“You don’t give me orders, Robin.”

“No, but Gotham does.” He would know, considering Tim was Gotham.

The head full of greasy- ew, take a shower, B!- hair swiveled towards him.

“You have a direct line to Gotham?”

Tim settled into the final forms of the night. “Gotham sent me. I thought we went over this.”

A beat of silence.

Batman returned to clacking away at the computer. Tim finished his set in relative peace. He moved to the cool down stretches while Batman sulked in front of his computer like a five year old.

“I’m done.” He said, crossing his arms.

“Hm.”

“That means you’re done, too.”

“I’m not tired.”

Tim rolled his eyes so hard, he thinks he saw the light. Oh, wait, that’s just Bruce’s last brain cell dying.

“You’re heading to bed. Good luck finding actual crime tomorrow, if you stay up.”

Batman stilled, because he knows Gotham would back Tim up on the threat. Considering the time sensitivity of some of these cases, Gotham’s anger is not something he could risk.

Tim patted himself on the back for effectively playing the good cop and the bad cop on his own. Except ACAB for life because they’re vigilantes and the GCPD as a whole (with exceptions) sucks ass.

He watched as Batman- as Bruce- reluctantly powered down the Bat-Computer. As he stood up, Tim wrinkled his nose.

“Never mind. You take a shower first. I’ll text Alfred.”

“Not necessary.”

“Okay, then you can explain to Gotham why you’re traipsing through his city looking a starved rat and smelling like you took a joy ride in Killer Croc’s excrement. Oh, wait.” Tim snapped, just about done being patient today. Tim whipped out his phone, texting Alfred with one hand and pointing towards the staircase with the other.

“Shower above ground, you weird little mole rat. No cave water for you.”

Bruce makes a weird offended grunt.

“I literally don’t care if you have to walk up to your room to shower in your boxers, B. Most of Gotham’s people don’t have access to a shower, let alone a million dollar bathroom. Fucking use your actual bathroom instead of hosing off.”

And with that, Batman and Bruce Wayne moved to the tune of a pre-teen, who was also, unknowingly to him, the spirit of his City.

——

“Go home.”

Tim smiled sweetly. Bruce paled. The scary, Gotham loved child patted Bruce’s hand as he sat beside Bruce’s bed.

“Sleep, before I make you.”

Bruce slammed his eyelids shut, anything to not look at Tim’s malicious looking eyes, and allowed himself- nay, forced himself- to rest for the first time in weeks since Jason died.

As Bruce’s dumb self drifted off to dreamland, Tim muttered, “Wuss.”

He settled himself into the chair, napping lightly to make sure Bruce doesn’t sneak out to work when he’s gone.

Alfred snapped a quick picture.

[elsgooglyeyes]

hello everyone. long LONG time no see, but i'm back on my bullshit. here's an excerpt from a story i've been pondering over recently.

for context: joel and ellie took you in when you were 15, blah blah lots of lore. long story short, you end up in jackson with them, you and ellie are 18, almost 19, and unfortunately...you've fallen in love with her. ellie williams. your best friend. oh my god. good luck babe!

summary: you have morning coffees with joel almost every morning, and your feelings for ellie are causing quite the inner turmoil...here's you confiding in joel who has become a father to you. longing. yearning. fatherly love. sarcasm. friends to lovers. the whole shabang.

a/n: i fear this is mostly self indulgent as someone apart of the dead dad club LMFAOO

wc: 2.1k

As you step outside, the early fall air immediately wakes you up slightly as it wicks through your thin clothes. You wrap your free arm around your torso, warm coffee mug in the other as you walk through the side yard of Joel's house. Your feet crunch against the dying grass as you exhale shakily. As you turn the corner, you immediately spot Joel already sitting in his respective chair on the porch. You smile softly as you approach the steps, directing the smile towards him.

Joel looks up as you approach, a familiar warm smile gracing his lips. He tilts his head in acknowledgment, his eyes still weary from sleep.

"Mornin'," he grunts, his voice still rough from waking up. He gestures to the chair beside him, silently inviting you to join. You slowly walk up the porch steps, sleep still taking toll on your body, causing you to move groggily. The sun rises, peeking out behind some clouds, providing you with a bit of warmth from the crisp air.

"Morning," you grumble in return, sitting down on the chair beside him, bringing a knee to your chest and immediately taking a sip of your coffee. You sigh as the hot liquid falls down your throat, warming you up from the inside.

Joel chuckles softly at your grumble, well aware and used to your morning moodiness. He also takes a sip of his coffee, savoring the bitter taste before speaking, "Rough start to the day?" he asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Always," you mumble softly, taking another sip, desperate to wake up some more. A soft wind blows, causing the wind chimes to play their familiar music.

Joel grins wryly and nods, settling back into his chair. The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, the only sounds now being the wind chimes and the faint chirping of birds in the distance. This routine has become sacred to both of you, getting to sit together before the hustle and bustle of the day, just enjoying the other's presence. While the mornings are usually peaceful, your thoughts begin to cloud your mind as soon as your brain wakes up even the tiniest bit. Eventually, Joel breaks the silence, his voice gruff but gentle.

"Seems like fall's finally making its way in," he observes, glancing around, feeling the chill of the air envelope him. You nod in agreement, grimacing. "Unfortunately...it's too damn cold. I'm still not used to it being this cold this early in the year"

Joel nods, a knowing look in his eyes. "Hm," he hums, "sometimes I forget you grew up mainly in the deep south. Your body's built for the warmth, I reckon. You're in for a rude awakening, ain't nothin' quite like a northern fall–or winter, for that matter. It'll get pretty damn harsh up here."

You groan, this is your first winter in Jackson, and while you're grateful to finally have a bed to sleep in and a stable roof over your head, you can't help but feel a little upset at how cold it'll get.

"Can't wait..." you retort sarcastically and take another sip, sighing softly. Joel snorts, a dry chuckle escaping his lips, "Oh you’re just a ray of sunshine this morning, ain't ya? Even more so than usual," he teases, a glint of amusement in his eyes. You chuckle in response, shaking your head, letting out a soft groan.

"Sorry. I'm just thinkin'. Kinda too lost in thought to be the greatest of company this morning." Joel notices the change in your demeanor, your usual early morning grumbles making way for something a little deeper, and his rugged features soften.

He looks over your face, taking note of your slightly furrowed brows and frown. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"I don't know if I can even tell you these thoughts for a quarter," you attempt to joke, but it falls flat. Clearly whatever you're thinking about is taking over your entire mind. However, Joel still cracks a wry smile, appreciating the attempt and nods at you.

"Try me," he says. "Though I can't say I guarantee a quarter's worth of wisdom, but I'm listenin'."

His words bring a sort of peace to your anxious mind, yet the thoughts still linger. You sigh softly and groan, putting your face in your free hand, your other tightening its grip on your mug. Joel watches you closely, noticing your clear frustration. His expression turns more serious, sensing that whatever you're grappling with isn't something lighthearted.

"C'mon, kiddo," he coaxes, his voice gentle but firm. "Out with it." You attempt to disguise your frustration with a forced smile and a wave of your hand, but Joel just smirks at you, knowing you well enough to see through your playful facade.

"Nuh uh," he shakes his head, leaning forward slightly in his chair and takes another sip of coffee, sighing. "That ain't gonna work on me and you know it. What's bothering you?" You roll your eyes playfully, cursing his stubbornness and protectiveness. You squint your eyes slightly and look out onto the street ahead of you, listening to the wind chimes. Eventually, you take a deep breath and open your mouth to begin talking.

"I've got these..." you gesture with your free hand, attempting to find the right words for your inner turmoil, but to no avail, "feelings." You shake your head and take another sip, eyes trained on the street, "I don't know..." You shake your head.

Joel notices your struggle to find the words, his hard gaze unwavering and attentive. He also takes a sip of coffee before setting the mug down on the table between you, looking over at you.

"Feelings, huh? 'Bout what exactly?" He probes gently, his voice filled with patience for you. You close your eyes and sigh, "Who is the better question." You mumble quietly, a part of you hoping he didn't even hear you. However, he did, of course. His brow furrows momentarily, leaning back in his chair, shifting his gaze to try and catch your eye, a small smirk playing on the corner of his lips.

"Who, huh?" He echoes, his voice gravelly, "lemme take a guess..." You roll your eyes. There's not a chance in hell he knows who you're talking about, because it's absurd. You finally shift your eyes back to him, "You'll never guess," you murmur.

Joel chuckles deeply, "Oh you underestimate me, kid," he retorts, the smirk in the corners of his lips deepening. "I know you well enough to take a pretty educated guess." You draw your eyebrows together and look at him, silently challenging him to guess. He takes a moment to consider, his keen eyes studying your expression, and his eyes crinkle.

"Alright," he begins slowly, clearing his throat. "Let me throw out a name." You shrug, taking a sip, confident he'll say some girl you've talked to twice, or even a boy you've mentioned in passing. He looks out at the street, mirroring your early actions before tilting his head, his eyes locked onto yours as he prepares to make his guess. He takes a deep breath, his voice steady and sure.

"Ellie," he says firmly, his eyes unwavering as he gauges your reaction, his eye crinkling more as his smirk deepens into a smug smile. You choke on the coffee you're in the middle of swallowing, coughing as you hear her name fall from his lips, looking at him with wide eyes.

"Gotcha, didn't I?" He teases, his smile turning into a full blown grin as he looks at your shocked and confused face. "Don't look so shocked, kid. You're not exactly subtle."

Your eyebrows furrow as you look between his eyes, "What?" If Joel was able to notice, does that mean...?

He interrupts your thoughts with a husky laugh, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "You think I haven't noticed how you look at her? How you've been looking at her? For years?" He chuckles again and tilts his head at you, "It's pretty obvious, even to an old fart like me."

You groan and place your coffee down on the table, resting your elbows on your knees and burying your face in your hands. "How long have you known?" You mumble into your hands, though you're almost too afraid to know the answer. He hums thoughtfully, "How long?" He repeats, scratching his bearded chin, "hmmm, let me think..." He pretends to count the days out on his fingers, a deliberate slowness to his movements.

"Well, let's see," he says, drawing out each word with his southern drawl, "I think I've known for...oh, I dunno, about a year now.' You raise your head out of your hands and look at him in bewilderment, "Joel...you're lying."

He grins back at you, "Why would I lie about this, kiddo?" You lean back into your chair, rubbing your hand over your face, mumbling an "oh my god."

Joel laughs heartily, finding your flustered state amusing, "Oh c'mon, don't look so horrified," he teases, "it ain't as bad as you're makin' it out to be." You shoot your eyes over to him, shaking your head, "Joel, she's my best friend."

Joel nods in understanding, his expression softening as he looks at your anxious state. "Oh, I know," his voice losing some of the teasing edge from earlier, gentleness taking over, "but feelings ain't always that simple, are they? Feelings are complicated," he reassures, "and when it comes to best friends," he whistles lowly, "well, it'll complicate things even more."

You look up at the porch ceiling, moving to pick up your forgotten coffee and take a long sip, grimacing as it's turned slightly cold. You sigh and look back at him with pleading eyes.

"What am I supposed to do? I thought they'd go away a long time ago but..." you trail off, searching his eyes for his wisdom.

"I wish I had a simple answer for you, darlin'. Feelings aren't always something you can just make disappear. Believe me, I know that all too well." He squints his eyes as he looks out.

"You're no help." You grumble, taking a sip of your now cold coffee. He chuckles softly, the warm sound rumbling in his chest as he raises his hands in mock defense.

"Hey, I never said I was an expert on relationships. Just an old man trying to give his two cents." You chuckle in response and take a deep breath. You're afraid to ask this next question, but it's been gnawing in the back of your mind, "Do you think she knows?" Your voice soft, wincing a little bit as you look down at your coffee.

He ponders your question for a moment, his expression thoughtful as he genuinely tries to come up with an answer, he sighs lowly before answering, "Can't say for sure...Ellie's a smart kid, and she knows you like the back of her hand. But sometimes...feelings can be hard to pick up on, even for the smartest of us." You nod slowly, swirling your coffee in its mug.

"That's what I was afraid of...sometimes I'm scared she can see right into my soul." You chuckle dryly. He lets out a soft laugh, appreciating your lighthearted attempt to play it off, "Yeah she's got a way of seein' through people, doesn’t she? Can't hide much from her, you included."

You groan again, throwing your head back to slump into the chair. "Don't say that. You're supposed to say: 'Oh don't worry, she's completely oblivious and has absolutely no idea you're madly in love with her'" You mimic in his deep southern voice.

Joel can't help but let out a hearty laugh at your imitation of his southern voice. He grins widely, clearly amused by your mockery.

"Alright, alright," he chuckles, reaching up to scratch his beard. "Lemme try again." He clears his throat and puts on his best serious face.

"Darlin', she ain't got a clue," he says in his gravelly voice, suppressing a smirk. "Oblivious as can be."

You smile at him, appreciating his efforts to make you feel better, even if they aren't exactly true. He returns your smile and chuckles, "Hope that's of some help. Though I gotta say," He leans toward you, his voice lowering, "your impression could use some work."

You laugh, feeling put at ease by his familiar teasing, "No...I don't think it does. It's pretty spot on actually," you quip back, causing another gruff laugh to fall from his lips. "If you say so, kid."

You smirk at him and open your mouth to retort back but are cut short by the sound of the door to you and Ellie's shed creaking open, cutting through the relative silence of your surroundings.

"Speak of the Devil," he smirks at your automatic body response of slumping further down into the chair. "C'mon now, you can play it cool. You're tough."

You groan softly, "Im not the same girl you took in when I was fifteen," you whine softly, "I've lost my edge!" You slowly sit up as you hear her footsteps approaching from the side of the house, shooting him a look, "Not a word," you warn him, pointing at him. He raises his hand and pretends to zip his mouth shut as Ellie rounds the house, giving you both a sleepy nod and a grumbled, "morning." Her eyes lighting up when she sees you.

okay that's all you get. love y'all xoxo.

[thisonehere]

Hi there! With the recent release of "Deadpool and Wolverine" a few days ago I was wondering if you could do an HC Imagine of the Lin Kuei Trio x Female Reader where she's got the same regenerative powers as Deadpool but they didn't know about it until something happens where the Reader is severely injured or briefly killed right in front of them and while they're busy mourning their loved one they don't notice the Reader casually getting back up and asking why they're crying scaring them out their stupor and reveal their power to them as is dying via decapitation is no big deal to them not understanding how traumatized they are after seeing their loved one die in front of them. I can't wait to see how you do the reactions of each brother and I'm hoping it's hilarious so good luck.

Lin Kuei Bros x Deadpool(ish) reader

A/n: Kinda dark, I like it!

MK1, Request, Hc,

C/w: A little angst, mentions of blood

Bi-Han, Kuai Liang, and Tomas stared down at you in horror.

You were lying there beneath them, or...at least a piece of you were lying right there, your head. Another part of you was over there somewhere, another Tomas accidentally stepped on.

It wasn't supposed to end like this.

Things were running so smoothly, or that is at least what you all had thought. It was just supposed to be an in and out mission, but there was a problem underestimating your opponent and his power.

You were fighting some demonic sorcerer, a part of some trio called "The masters". You had no idea who or what they were, all you knew was that they were a threat that needed to be dealt with.

So you all snuck into their base, you all had made your way sneaking through the base, keeping to the shadows and silently killing every soldier you could get your hands on, until you finally found the main chamber where you target was.

They all fought furiously and prevailed over their assailants. But they hadn't noticed that you were hit during the battle. You ripped to shreds, your blood and guts were everywhere. You head laid before them with a shocked look permanently etched onto your decapitated head.

Bi-Han

No...

He is frozen for a second, all he can do is stare at you body, or whatever was left of your body.

Finally, his hands begin to clench as he begins to flinch. His eyes are basically bloodshot red as he turns and stares down the one responsible for this.

He savagely beats them to a bloody pulp. His fist crashes against their face numerous times, each strike never feeling like it's enough to calm the pain inside of him.

He...he loved you. He never told you this, but he did. And now your gone, he didn't realize how much he'd miss your joking, your smile

He closed his eyes tightly, trying to fight off the tears as he bloodies his fist.

Kuai Liang

By the Elder Gods, no...No!

He falls to his knees as stares in horror at what has happened to you.

He looks into you cold and dead eyes, once filled with joy, life, and ridiculous jokes, now reduced to grey, lifeless without the loving warmth he loved about you.

He thought of all the times he didn't tell you how much he loved you, all the times he didn't hold you close.

He bows his head as he prays over your soul, he hopes that you find peace in the afterlife.

Tomas

...

Swing you lying there, the image of his dead mother and sister flashed before his eyes.

Tomas felt numb inside, he didn't notice the tears falling down his face as he looked at you.

Of all the missions he has spent working with he, never for a second did he think a single on of them would be your last. But here you were.

You were amazing to him, he never of you ever being susceptible to defeat.

He blames himself, if only he could do something, if only he was stronger for you, then this would've never happened.

"Hey, Guys!"

At the sound of your voice, all the Lin Kuei boys jumped. Bi-Han stopped brutalizing the poor guy and Kuai stopped praying.

They stare at you with a mixture of horror and Confusion. You just stare back with a aloof grin on your face.

Tomas runs over to you, his eyes darts from this part of your body to another. "I-I don't understand, h-how.."

"How what?" You stare back, oblivious to their horror and confusion. "Your head was ripped off and your body was torn apart!" Kuai Yells, his eyes wide with conflict. He doesn't know if he should be happy or upset. You being all nonchalant and ignorant about the whole thing doesn't help.

"Oh, yeah, not one of my finest moments. But I'm back now." They continue to stare at you in disbelief.

At that second you suddenly realized why they were staring at you. "Oh, right, I forgot to tell you. I can regenerate and heal and all that fun stuff." You say with a smile, you were just brutalized and ripped to shred yet you acted like it was another Tuesday.

Kuai and Tomas just stared at you in disbelief. They couldn't find the right words, what could they say? This whole thing was just bizarre.

Bi-Han is the first to finally react. He drops his victim and anger approaches you, his fists clenched tighter.

He stares you down with fire blazing in his eyes. Then, he wraps his arms around you and holds you close, much to everyone's surprise.

"Bi-Han, I-" you try to say, him hugging you making you realize the gravity of the situation. "Do that to me again and I'll rip your head off myself." He says, yet you sense the relief in his voice.

At the sight of Bi-Han embracing you, Kuai and Tomas stop being upset, and remember how happy they are that you're alive. "These powers you have, they are...strange to say the least...but you are alive and that is all I care about." He gives you a smile

Tomas smiles at you as he wipes the tears from his eyes. "Um, Y/n...I might have some of you on my shoes."

[snivyartjpeg]

Yuma Month Day 26 - Role Swap

god i was excited for this one. it first started off as a joke, but the more i thought about it, the more interesting this swap became. so here's my massive lore dump of changes that'd happen in the story beneath the cut (spoiler warning):

i think, fundamentally, yuma and yakou are very similar characters. they're both very protective and kindhearted, with a strong sense of justice and a penchant for attracting terrible luck. because of this, some things would remain the same, such as the NDA's dynamics with their doormat chief as well amnesia!yakou's massive unpaid intern energy. i think yakou would be pretty similar to how he behaved in the light novel- a bit more optimistic and naive, like yuma. but there are two key differences between them that'd make this a different story, especially in ch 4: yuma has a forte, and yakou is very selfish. so here's some changes:

yakou's wife is his shinigami now, as you can see, while shinigami is yuma's dead wife. i think mrs furio would act cooler than shinigami. she'd still be playful, but she takes her job more seriously. also she hands yakou the solution keys normally without throwing up. they still have to do the dance and mouth sword thing tho. and the other stuff. that's just death god protocol

shinigami (or in this case the unnamed Mrs. Kokohead but i will still be calling her shinigami for convenience sake) was a scientist at amaterasu who studied forensics and thanatology instead of regenerative medicine. this also means that the pill she gives zombie yuma is not going to bring him back, but instead grant the zombie homunculi a peaceful, painless, but permanent death

speaking of zombie yuma, he's the homunculus now! yakou is 100% human and also doesnt have a forte. he's still number one, but instead of having a forte he's just that good at solving mysteries

yes this means makoto looks like yakou now. sorry makotoheads. i think he'd have really long, shaggy hair dyed to be like. idk. black or something. also he's more clean shaven bc stubble with a mask on is a sensory nightmare

yuma still cant cook. he subsists entirely on takeout, meat buns, black coffee, and beer. he's still in a lot of debt and under a lot of stress and his personality is essentially "what if canon number one just gave up"

he doesn't smoke though. he tried once and got into the worst coughing fit

imma say it right now. kurumi is not a love interest. yakou likely disguises himself as a faculty member instead (also i think one of the teachers gets a crush on fem yakou bc i just know she'd be hot)

ANYWAY what about chapter 4? im SO glad you asked! because here's where things get spicy!

so, lets start with the dead wife. shinigami catches onto huesca's inhumane research and she's just as adamant about bringing the truth to light as she always is. she blows the whistle, so he blows her up. yuma investigates, but they dont let him look any further, yada yada, yuma stews in his misery for five years

yomi sends in the evidence to motivate yuma to kill huesca, and makoto lets it happen because a dead huesca would be convenient. he even introduces the hitman, fully expecting yuma to make use of him

yuma doesnt. in fact, he wants to kill huesca with his own hands. and now that these detectives are here, he can do it and even return alive. the thing is, he doesn't want to put them in danger, so he chooses to do almost everything alone (sound familiar?)

his plan is simple:

ask desuhiko for a peacekeeper uniform. desuhiko trusts him enough to take "i want to investigate kanai ward's ultimate secret by infiltrating their ranks" as an answer. he does, however, let yakou know about this as an offhand comment before the mystery ever begins

hold fubuki's hand. it doesnt really matter how. she'll gladly allow it because she's fubuki. he stores her time powers and heads out the sub. yakou also learns this as an offhand comment played off as a joke (maybe fubuki affectionately comments about how she never expected the chief's hands to be so soft... idk. there has to be some way for yakou to have this as a future clue)

use his peacekeeper status to sneak into amaterasu HQ and demand a functioning ama-pal from that one creepy researcher

use ama-pal + fubuki's borrowed powers to bypass huesca's security. sneak the bot past the hard-of-hearing doctor and press the button to shut off security

this would probably alert huesca, but since the doctor never received a warning, yuma has enough time to rush in and stab him before he realizes what's going on

leave HQ while still in uniform, dispose of the disguise once he's safe, and return to the NDA like nothing happened. success!

soooo.... yakou, on that same day, decides to investigate amaterasu HQ with makoto

all the while, vivia has his suspicions about yuma's actions and keeps an eye on him in spectral mode. he... basically witnessed the whole thing, so he gets up off his ass and decides to follow yakou to the lab because he has a Very Bad Feeling about this

just like canon, he senses the death god and deduces that our protag has been killing off murderers, and so he wants to protect his chief as well as his peace and quiet (his dynamic with yuma would be the same as his dynamic with yakou, since it's entirely believable for yuma to treat vivia with the same kindness yakou did)

yakou tries to speak to huesca, but surprise! security is disabled and he's dead in the lab! no one else at amaterasu liked huesca enough to check on him, so yakou and makoto are the first ones at the scene of the crime. yakou, of course, decides to start investigating this murder

vivia somehow sneaks into the lab (dont ask me how) and confronts yakou, threatening him with his boxcutter and adamantly imploring him to stop pursuing this particular mystery in the same way he did yuma in canon. unfortunately, this attracts attention, and now they're in trouble (maybe even yomi's there to fetch his files). at this point, yakou has enough solution keys, so he panics and goes right into the labyrinth (and maybe others can enter for another reason that isnt coalescence idk)

so... they go in the labyrinth... vivia tries to stop him every step of the way, until the answer is right in front of them

yakou kills yuma with his own hands. there's no stab wounds or toxic gas to leave any doubt. yakou begins to question what good his justice really does. it doesnt even save them from their predicament, just like the other deaths. instead, makoto ex machina comes in to save them, and hands yakou a small black box

when they return to the agency, everyone is heartbroken over their chief, who seemingly died out of nowhere. fubuki tried rewinding time, but to no avail. halara tried everything to wake him up, knowing it's futile. desuhiko stood aside, feeling completely helpless. and yakou and vivia return looking like they just came back from hell

they barely get the chance for a funeral before the knockout gas trap activates... you know the rest

AAAAND SCENE! so that's my extremely long winded lore dump about this au. i thought about it Way Too Much but god it's so interesting to me. i love these characters and swapping them was immensely fun

[xoxochb]

— you caught my heart, lovergirl!

warnings: tooth rotting fluff see a dentist, I also just learned how to play the entirety of baseball in like 20 minutes so if I got something wrong I’m sorry 😭 and the ending is lowkey sucky as fuck because I wasn’t sure what to do for it LMAO pairing: baseball player! jason grace x fem! reader a/n: you can’t stop me from learning how to play a game just for a fic. this is literally the second time I’ve done this and be prepare for more

the cheering crowds, the smell of popcorn (and dirt but you chose to ignore that for aesthetics purposes), and your blond boyfriend flashing you his knee-weakening, winning smile. you can’t help but return it, offering a blown kiss in addition (which makes his knees weak). your heart begins to pound as the last moments of the game start up, the last inning, the last chance to win and with jason’s team practically already in the win you weren’t nervous nervous but you were freaking out. you watch as the pitcher prepares to throw, slowly turning the ball in his hands

very. slowly. or maybe you were just overreacting or maybe you were dying or maybe—

annabeth’s hand on your shoulder snaps you from your thoughts. “(name), I can practically feel your worries, please calm down”

you shake your hands to get rid of the sweat build up. you take annabeth’s hand in yours. “I’m trying!”

after what feels like forever— the pitcher throws at last. your breathing grows abnormal as you watch in what you’re sure is slow motion, the ball travels from the pitcher to the bat jason holds. one…two…three…four…you close your eyes and say a silent prayer to tyche, when you open, as if your prayers had been answered on exactly the second they were sent, he hits the ball, sending it flying through the stadium. you don’t celebrate just yet, he still has to make his rounds over the bases

first… second… third… you nearly have a heart attack when he reaches home plate. at the absolute top of your lungs (you were bound to wake up with no voice) you scream in joy, wrapping yourself into the arms of the gray eyed girl beside you. when you pull away she wipes the falling tears from your cheeks

“now go!” she demands, making your brows furrow “go get your man! what’re you waiting for?”

“yes, yes yes, going!” you squeal and run down the stand’s stairs, through the gate and onto the field. your legs burning like wildfires (you’ve never participated in this much physical activity in your life, your muscles would feel the wrath tomorrow for sure), you’re feet were sure to begin blistering any moment (pro tip: don’t wear doc martens to a baseball game even if they look cute with the outfit!), but you couldn’t find it in you to care as jason wraps his arms around your middle tightly. and you surely couldn’t care any less that he was drenched in sweat and covered in dirt or the gods know what else

you feel as his tears soak through your shirt (his jersey you were wearing had fallen off your shoulder). your breathing steadies as you feel his comforting warmth surround you. the hug lasts for what feels like hours, days, weeks, months, years even, before you pull away, not going far because you’re swift to connect your lips with his (this was motivation enough for him to win. throughout the game the remembrance of you kissing him passionately after his team won kept him going. additionally the reward he would earn later that night if he was being honest), once, and twice before you pull away fully this time. jason pulls an arm away from around your waist to show you a very dirty ball in his hand. the winning ball

“I believe this belongs to you. my good luck charm of a girlfriend”

like waterworks, you can’t help the tears that come alongside the gesture. you take the ball from his grasp and return your arms around around his neck, at last your heart settles and your breathing slows to normal, peace restored at last

[imamotherfuckingstar-lord]

fate

opla!sanji x reader, fluff

a/n: gif request by @sweetheartlizzie07

The ship rocked steadily; waves quiet as the moon lit the small ripples. Staring out to sea, you thought of all the little steppingstones that lead you to this ship. To the crew that took you in like the lonely orphan you are. Were. A smile made its way to the corner of your mouth, and you wondered if luck finally was turning its head your way. A cool breeze sent a shiver down your spine and then a warm blanket fell onto your shoulders.

“You’ll catch a cold and while the idea of healing you back to good health is enthralling…” Sanji tightened the wool blanket around your body and smiled, hands falling to his side. “I’m sure Chopper would disapproval.” “I don’t know, a week in bed sounds great.”

A charming smile graced the cook’s face, and he angled you back toward the sea, the two of you quietly staring out into the dark abyss. For minutes, a peaceful silence played between the small space left between Sanji and you. Neither of you needed to say much, quiet company had often been what you offered each other. He’d be cooking in the kitchen while you read at the counter, occasionally looking up from your book to steal a mental imagine of Sanji. Sleeves rolled up, a concentrated fiery in his eyes, a relaxed pout on his face – it was your favorite painting.

“Can I ask you something, Sanji?”

His eyes drew away from the sea to you. “Anything.”

And he meant it.

“Do you believe in fate?”

“Not really.”

Your facial expression must have looked disappointed because he began to backtrack, but you stopped him with a laugh. “You’re allowed to have your own opinion.”

He relaxed and edged closer to you, shoulder against yours. Watching as he pulled out the small tin, he kept his cigarettes in, you waited patiently for him to offer one up. When he did, you took a slow inhale and gave it back, once again staring out beyond the waves. “I always felt like my life would always just be. I was stuck on this island, waiting to be married off to someone I would never love. Have children that I would try to love. Just like my mother but then, Luffy found me.”

Sanji nodded, letting out a low chuckle. “He sort of found all of us, didn’t he?”

“That he did,” you replied. Turning to face Sanji, you asked him if he thought this was his fate. “Being on this ship, with this crew? Do you really think this is where you’re supposed to be?”

“Yes,” he answered swiftly, his hand moving to find yours. When his fingertips touched the outside of your wrist, you held his stare. “We can think we don’t deserve better than what we had, but maybe the universe has a way of remedying things.”

His hand moved down to lock with yours and he crushed the cigarette into the ledge – freeing himself to grab a hold of both your hands. Sanji held them gingerly, rubbing his thumb against your skin.

“So, you do believe in fate then?”

He shrugged playfully with a grin. “If fate led both of us to this moment, on this ship, then I guess I believe in it. What do you say?”

The waves gathered some courage to make noise against the ship, rocking it ever so gently as you held your balance – hands in Sanji’s. The moon shined brightly; the smell of sea salt filled the air as you squeezed your palm against his. All your life, you had begged and pleaded for something more than you had. A life worth living for, a family worth dying for. A love worth loving…

“I say I’m all in, if you are.”

Sanji let out a sigh of relief, gathering you in his arms. He kissed your forehead, rocking you under the gathered stars and for what seemed like a wonderful lifetime – the two of you remained that way, enjoying the little moment fate had gifted you.

[immeasurablesaladagere]

A Wildcard is Active - Team Self-Sufficient

Series - A Wildcard is Active

-----

Words: 4973

Summery: By a stroke of bad luck, both Gem and Joel end up as children and are determined not to let anyone know. There are reds about, it’s not safe for them to be alone without an adult to protect them. When they run into trouble in a cave, they're forced to ask the Bamboozlers for help.

-----

On the first morning of the fourth session, Joel allowed himself to stay in bed just a bit longer and take in the snail-less peace and quiet. No more running about constantly looking over his shoulder for deadly flying mollusks, just a nice easy doze in the Charger, living the life.

Gem was already up and about, cooking breakfast by the smell of it. Somehow session three had been a breeze for her and now she was going around being all productive. Showoff. 

“Joel! Breakfast is ready!”

As much as he wanted to roll over and doze for another thirty minutes, the start of the session would wait for no man. They only had a short time before the next wildcard activated for the week and they needed to pound back as many calories as possible if they wanted to keep up with whatever craziness Grian had in store this time.

So out of bed and into their makeshift kitchen he went, rubbing the sleep crusties out of his eyes. “Quit yer yelling, what if I’d been sleepin’ still?”

“Then you needed to get up anyway. Wildcard rolls in an hour, up and ‘attem!” Gem said with the chipperness of someone who hadn’t spent the last week fearing for her life, and slid two plates of eggs, toast, and bacon onto the table.

“Yeah, yeah. Easy for you to say, you dirty snail-lover.”

“Hey! Who made you breakfast?”

“You’re right, you’re right, I’m sorry.” Joel shovelled a forkful of bacon into his mouth and groaned. “S’really good.”

Gem chuckled. “Well don’t make it weird! Maybe I shouldn’t be cooking for you.”

“No, please, I’ll be eating nothing but bread all season.” He whined. “Seriously, this is great, thanks Gem.”

“Well of course! We’re going to need the energy!” She finished her glass of milk in one go and got up to start putting her dishes away because holy moly, she ate fast. “What’s on the to-do list for today?”

There were about a million answers to that question, seeing as no one got anything done last week. Diamonds, finish the base, make traps, go to the nether; but of course what they’d like to do didn’t matter so much as what they could do once the wildcard hit. “Dunno. Some mining, maybe hit the nether if Grian hasn’t rigged it to explode or sumfing. I need redstone and gunpowder.”

“Ooo, yeah, the nether sounds good. I don’t know if they’ve found the fortress yet, so maybe there’s still some potion stuff left.” 

The moment the last piece of toast was in his mouth Gem was snatching his plate out from under him and dumping it in the sink.

“Oi!”

She stuck her tongue out at him. 

Well, might as well get started on the list. “If gonna try to finish the base while nofing’s going on, head’s up for falling deepslate in here!”

“If you get rock dust in my kitchen I’ll put you on yellow!” She called after him.

The base was coming along nicely, it just needed a few finishing touches. Trim here and there, polish the windows, sand off a few edges. He grabbed his tools from the starter base and climbed up onto the hood of the car. Maybe he could even finish before the session started.

-

“Joel! Wildcard!”

He could not. Joel sighed and set down his tools as the colourful ellipses appeared in his vision and Gem came outside. They had to be prepared for anything, and it was much safer to find out the gimmick together. They both braced for the worst. Floor is lava? Levitation? Permanent nighttime? More snails?

A Wildcard is Active.

The two of them did a hasty once-over of themselves. 

“Hearts and hunger are the same,” Gem reported.

“No effects, and you’re not dying right now so no floor-is-lava. Darn, I was hoping for that one.” He didn’t feel any different, and nothing around them seemed immediately strange. It was almost more unsetting that he couldn’t pinpoint the twist right away. 

“You were hoping I would die?”

“No, no, but you know what I mean. I was so sure that’d be one of them!” He patted himself down. “I don’t feel weird. Do I look weird?”

“More than normal? No.” She smirked.

“Wow, rude!”

He was about to accept that maybe Grian had miraculously decided to do something low-key this session. Maybe it was nether-based or mob-based and wouldn’t be nearly as big a deal as the murder snails and the hunger. Sure, it would put a mild spanner in the works but they would live. But then he felt it. His entire body suddenly felt… buzzy. Like pins and needles all over.

“Um, actually… Maybe I do feel a bit weird…” 

Gem shifted from foot to foot, rubbing a hand up and down her arms. “You feel it too? What is that?” Her eyes widened. “Oh my— Joel, you’re smoking!”

“I know that Gem, but I’m married so—“ Oh. Sure enough, his arms were giving off a faint purple mist, and now that he noticed it, so was Gem. “Woah, you’re smoking too! What on earth is this? Gah, I hate this feeling!”

In seconds the smoke went from tiny wisps to thick fog that surrounded him completely, and he could just barely make out Gem disappearing behind her own cloud as the smoke consumed him and everything went dark.

Then a moment later he was back again, lying face down on the car and tingly all over. He groaned. Was it weakness? Why did he feel like he was just tossed around by a ravager? He went to sit up and was rocked by a wave of dizziness. “Ugh, oh dear…” He mumbled, and then slowly his words caught up to his spinny brain. 

Something was wrong with his voice. It was higher, and weirder. 

“Joel!?” Came a squeaky cry from the ground, one that sounded eerily familiar. 

He shuffled forward to the edge of the base and oh, that was a long way down. Standing in a fun-size suit of armour and using a sword much too big for her to prop herself up was Gem. Tiny Gem. She looked no older than seven, maybe eight at the absolute most.

“Gem! What’s happened to you?” He called down, and yeah, his voice was definitely wrong. 

“Me? What about you? You’re teeny!”

He took a proper look at himself and his new tiny body, squishy arms, and stubby hands. Oh, this was terrible. 

“Are we all kids? Is that the twist!? That’s horrible!” How were they supposed to survive like this!?

Gem fumbled to pull out her spyglass and looked across the field to their neighbours. “No, not everyone! Tango’s still big over there, but Etho and Bdubs are little!”

“So only some of us? And we both get made into stupid toddlers? That’s not fair!” He pouted.

Their communicators were suddenly flooded with messages, mostly panicked gibberish from everyone who had been baby-fied and gushing from everyone who hadn’t. From the looks of it every group had at least one normal adult; between Scott, Cleo, Pearl, and Impulse there were three, except for them.

“This is bad, right?” Gem asked nervously, “There’s yellows and reds and if they know we don’t have someone protecting us… what if they kill us?” Joel hadn’t even thought of that. “Come down from there, we gotta find a place to hide!”

He went to climb down, but stopped when he saw the steep drop down the windshield to the ground. Suddenly his stomach was twisting into knots and he couldn’t bring himself to slide down. “Uh…”

“What’s wrong?” Gem asked with a look of growing worry, “Are you… scared?”

Joel’s ears burned. “N-no! Just, um…” So it was messing with their heads as well.

Gem seemed to understand, and careful to stay out of sight from their nosy neighbours, she crept around to the front of the car and built up a few blocks. When she got close enough, she held out her arms for him to slide into. “I’ll catch you.”

Absolutely not. He would rather die right then and there. “I don’t need your help!” 

Gem rolled her eyes. “Sure you don’t, now come on! Before someone sees us!” She hissed.

Without much of a choice, Joel took a deep breath and pushed himself down the hood of the car with a squeak and landed safely in Gem’s arms. Once he was safely back on solid ground, she immediately began to manhandle him.

“C’mon, c’mon!” She dragged him by the hand to their starter base and to his dismay, she was indeed much taller than he was, and she was able to pull him like he was a bundle of feathers. “Grab as much food and stuff as you can.” She said, and began rifling through their chests.

“Wha— okay, where’re we going?” The chests were so hugehe almost couldn’t reach into the bottom and he had to stand on his tip-toes to reach a pile of bread.

“We’re gonna hide underground. No one’s gonna wanna come look for us down there.” Gem said, like she’d thought the whole thing through already. She dropped a stack of torches and loose coal into her inventory.

“For all week? That’s a long time.” He pointed out.

“Yeah, I know, that’s why we’re getting all this stuff. We can come back up for food if we really gotta, but we can’t let anyone know that we’re both kids. That’d be super bad.”

Joel snickered. “You’re talkin’ funny.”

She scoffed, offended. “Am not! And don’t be mean to your elders!”

“You are not my elder! Look at you!”

“Uh-huh, and what does that make you? Look how small you are compared to me! You’re just a baby!” She teased, ruffling his hair.

“Oi, you—“

“—Gem? Joel? Are you here?”

They froze. Bdubs. And where there was Bdubs, there was Tango, and Tango was red. Gem hurried them to the wall and dug into it, boxing them in. They both held their breaths as multiple sets of feet walked around their base.

“Awe, they’re not here.” Bdubs.

“Do you think they’re kids, too?” Etho.

“Oh, I wanna see kid-Joel so bad! I bet he’d be real tiny.”

“C’mon Dubs, let’s go find the others.”

The footsteps walked away, and they both let out a sigh of relief.

“Let’s dig down.” Gem whispered. She lit a torch and the little box they were crammed in filled with light, which he liked a lot more than the dark. Joel tried his best to stay out of her way as she began to dig a tunnel down, and he was put on torch-duty, keeping it lit all the way down.

After what felt like forever, they finally hit a cave. It was really dark, which was both good and bad. Good because it meant no one had been there yet, and bad because Joel was very quickly learning his little kid brain didn’t like the dark very much.

“I don’t hear any monsters.” Gem said, peering into the hole, “Gimme the torches.” She took one more look around, then scooted down from their safe ledge into the cave. The torch in her hand lit up the walls around them just enough for him to see just how much further the cave went. It was already huge, but it seemed even huger because they were so small. The empty void made his stomach feel fluttery. He took out his sword and gripped it tight.

“Put the torches down, Gem! So the mobs don’t spawn!” He said urgently. Gem turned around and raised an eyebrow at him.

“You’re really jumpy, huh?” She smiled.

“I-I’m not! We just have to be careful. What— w-what if mobs do more damage ‘cause we’re tiny? Didjya ever think of that, Ms. Not— uh, Afraid?”

It was meant to be a jab but she just started giggling. “This is adorable. You look so pouty!” 

She was so busy laughing at his expense she didn’t notice the creeper emerging from the darkness and scuttling towards her.

“Gem, watch out!” 

She whirled around just in time to pull up her shield before the creeper blew up in her face and sent her staggering back into the wall. 

“Are you okay!?” He called, timidly crouching over the ledge. 

Gem chuckled nervously, brushing off some of the stone bits that got on her clothes and hair. “Yep, all good! Maybe the torches are a good idea…”

As Gem placed down torches he cautiously climbed down into the cave, keeping a sweaty hold on the handle of his shield. He hated just how blummin’ nervous he felt. He shouldn’t have cared if it was dark or if there might be monsters lurking around the corner, but suddenly the thought of leaving the light and Gem’s side was the worst thing ever. Stupid kid brain, stupid kid body. 

“Okay! We’re okay, we’re fine.” She chirped, “We’ve got torches, an’ our swords and shields, we’ll be fine.” It sounded like she was trying to tell herself that just as much as she was telling him, which strangely did make him feel better. At least we wasn’t the only scaredy-cat, even if Gem was better at hiding it than him. “Let’s go find some iron. We might even be deep enough to find diamonds!”

Right. Diamonds, iron, focus on that. “We’re gonna be so rich, Gem. All those silly fools up there are gonna be freakin’ out about being stupid babies and we’re gonna have full diamond!”

“There, that’s the spirit. Do you— um...” She offered her hand to him with a small smile. “You can be our shield, and I’ll protect us with the sword. How’s that sound?”

Joel scowled at her hand and reluctantly, to the death of his pride, took it. This was the worst day. He was going to have a talk with Grian when this was all over. The jerk was probably an adult as well, knowing him and the stupid universe. “Fine. But only for teamwork.”

“Teamwork.” Gem agreed, and they descended into the darkness.

-

“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Gem asked, throwing a few more loose pieces of wood into their little campfire.

It wasn’t. Sure, the dark still wasn’t very nice and they hadn’t had much luck with diamonds, but their trek through the cave got them a lot of iron, nearly a stack between them. “I wasn’t worried. I knew we were gonna be fine the whole time.” 

“Uh-huh. And when you screamed like a girl ‘cause you saw a spider you were totally gonna take it down, right?”

He nodded, dumping as much raw iron as he could fit into the furnace. “Yep, you just got their first. Silly Gem, stealin’ my kills.”

Even though he’d been trying not to think about it, he appreciated what Gem was doing. Both of their minds were being affected by the wildcard, but it was embarrassingly obvious that he had it worse, probably because he seemed to be the ‘younger’ of the two of them. And all the while dealing with her own nervousness and keeping them safe, she was talking to him like a normal person and keeping him steady. The good-natured ribbing kept everything feeling light when the scary cave sounds started to get to him, and she wasn’t being overbearing or babying him. It was almost like session one again; a normal day, just ever so slightly shorter than two blocks tall.

“Here, pork chop’s ready.” Gem passed him a stick with a cut of cooked pork chop skewered on it. Even without any seasonings, it smelled delicious.

“Fanks, Gem.” He devoured the whole thing in a few large bites, much to Gem’s disgust. One of the few upsides to being so small was that they were going through much less food than usual, and one pork chop was all he needed to feel properly full again. 

“So,” He burped, “We’re really gonna stay down here all week?”

Gem nodded and started making something on the crafting table. “Thas’ the plan.”

“Aw, but that’s a bit boring, isn’t it? I wanna have some fun too…” He kicked a little stone away and the clacking echoed off the walls.

“Do you wanna have fun, or do you wanna stay alive?”

How could she be so tiny and still act like such a mum? “Stay alive, I guess.” He pouted.

She turned around and laid a thin wool sleeping bag on the floor with the tiniest pillow Joel had ever seen. “That’s what I thought. I’ll take first watch. I didn’t bring enough wool, so sorry it’s not very good...” 

There was no way he could be upset about the sleeping bag, not when she was making that face. If they were on the surface Joel was sure Gem could get them whatever they wanted just by giving someone puppy eyes. “No, no, it’s fine! It looks super comfy. In fact,” He crawled over to it and nestled inside to show her. Stones dug into his back. “See? I could fall asleep right now.” He made an exaggerated yawn.

Gem chuckled. “I ‘precicate it, but you don’t hav’ta lie. Your pudgy little face doesn’t hide anything.”

“Going to sleep now!” He yelled, turning over and pressing his face into the pillow. “Honk-shoo, honk-shoo, see? Sleeping.”

“Have a good sleep, Joel.”

-

“Joel, get up, get up, come on!”

Joel barely had time to remember where he was before he was on his feet and they were running. His half-asleep legs stumbled to catch up and Gem was half-dragging him, and between his bleary eyes and the unlit cave he could barely see where they were going.

“Gem, what on earth— what’s going on!? What are we runni—“ Two arrows whizzed past his head much too close for comfort, and that woke him up.

“There were so many, I—I couldn’t kill them all!” Gem exclaimed. They took a hard left at a fork and two more zombies joined the chase from the right. There were at least six mobs behind them, probably more. There was no time to pull out their shields, they’d surely be overwhelmed instantly, which meant they’d just have to find a place to hide.

“Gem this is bad, this is so bad!”

Gem cried out as an arrow lodged itself in her shoulder, and then another. “I-I know, I know, keep running!”

They rounded another corner and skidded to a halt. Dead end. Joel raised his shield to catch another arrow but the mobs were getting close fast. They were dead. 

He yelped as Gem grabbed him by the scruff and pushed him into a corner. “Ow! Gem, what—?” She began haphazardly surrounding him in cobblestone, and Joel’s stomach sank. “Wait, G-Gem, what are you— what are you doing?”

“I’m low, my shield’s almost gone,” She panted, and her splitting shield took another hit, this time from the zombie at the head of the pack gnawing viciously at the wood. “Stay in here, I’ll come back for you, okay?”

“Gem, no!” His heart was pounding. He could only see a sliver of Gem’s scared but resigned expression through the gap now. More zombies caught up, groaning and forcing her back. “Gem—!”

The last block slid into place and he was plunged into darkness just as the message rang out.

Geminitay was slain by a zombie

-

This wildcard is a nightmare.

Jimmy watched, exhausted, as Lizzie tried to coach Scar up a tree for the third time. While a good “parent” might have stopped it by now, falling out of a tree was about the safest thing they had been up to over the last twenty-four hours. If all he had to do was pass out snacks for regen every time Scar fell, that was fine by him.

He truly believed Grian’s games simply hated him personally. Why else would he be the only adult in his team? The yellow life, the canary, the one who attracted death, keeping two children safe. What was the universe thinking? And of course in all the nonsense he hardly had any time to think about how he was going to get his next kill. Lizzie had been trying to help, but most of her ideas ended up drifting in a fantastical or hypothetical Jimmy-is-suddenly-amazing-at-pvp scenario and hadn’t come to fruition. 

“Jimmy, look! I made it!” 

Sure enough, Scar had finally managed to clamber up next to Lizzie on the branch, smiling proudly down at him.

“Wow, look at that! Don’t fall please, I’m running out of bread!”

“I won’t, I’m being very careful.” Scar waved him off, then wobbled and caught himself. “See? Careful.”

“Mm-hm.”

Bzz-bzzt.

Oh? What’s gone on now? He pulled out his communicator.

Geminitay was slain by a zombie

<Smajor1995: ???>

<Grian: red/yellow kill??>

<BDoubleO100: gem’s baby I kno it>

Huh. Gem and Joel had been missing for the entire session so far, and for her to die to a zombie of all things, she must have been seriously caught off-guard. Or small, came the thought, but even then Joel probably would have been looking after her, what with his whole “family” bit. Was he seriously being a better parent than Joel right now? He smiled to himself. What an idea.

And so, continuing his streak of great parenting, he went back to supervising. 

“Wo-OAH!”

And down Scar went, taking Lizzie with him and hitting the ground with a thump. 

“Owwww, Scaaar! That hurt!” Lizzie whined.

“Sorry, sorry! I was tryin’a get higher!”

Jimmy just sighed and fished two more loaves of bread from his inventory. “Come on now, no arguing, just take your bread.”

Thankfully even though Lizzie and Scar had proven themselves to be quite the tiny squabblers so far, the snacks seemed to settle them enough to just sticking their tongues out at one another and throwing crumbs. It was in the middle of their picnic when he heard someone yelling his name, and he turned to see Gem running towards him. Sure enough, she was a kid maybe the same age as Lizzie, and she looked all out of sorts.

“Gem! Where’ve you been, eh? What’s going on?”

“Y-You gotta— you—“ She gasped, out of breath and stumbling over her words, “You— we need help!”

Jimmy raised an eyebrow. “What? Slow down, who’s ‘we’? You and Joel?”

Gem nodded quickly. “We— we were in a cave and I was s’posed to protect him b-but I couldn’t an’ there w-were so many mobs an’—!“

“Hey, hey, woah, easy.” He knelt down in front of her and put his hands on her small shoulders. This was still so weird. “Deep breaths, ready? In…” She took a harsh breath in. “Out.” She released it. “Now, tell me what’s happened.”

Gem swallowed hard and Jimmy swore he could see the faintest hint of tears forming in her eyes. “Me and Joel are b-both kids, a-and I said we should hide ‘cause we had no adult to protect us so we went into a cave. I-It was my idea an’ I was s’posed to keep him safe, b-but there were so many mobs and—and I di-died and now Joel’s trapped down there and it’s all my fault!” She blurted, and a few stray tears fell down her cheeks.

Oh boy. “Well, that is a lot, isn’t it?” He said stupidly, and then rushed to correct himself when Gem’s face scrunched up like she was about to start bawling, “B-But don’t worry, we’ll get this all sorted, yeah? Where is he? I’ll help you rescue him.”

“In a cave under our base. I gotta show you, w-we dug it ourselves.” She sniffled, collecting herself. Thank admins.

“Alright, well…” He looked over to Lizzie and Scar, who were watching with wide eyes. “Lizzie, I put you in charge. Go back home with Scar and play some board games or something until I get back. Or go play with the neighbours, whatever, just something safe, alright?”

Lizzie got a look of genuine seriousness about her and nodded, and the two of them ran off towards the mountain.

Jimmy offered his hand to Gem. “Alright, lead the way.”

-

The staircase down into their cave was a tight squeeze, but once they were in the mouth of the cave opened up considerably. For an undiscovered cave it was very large and, other than a few of Gem’s stray torches, very dark.

“Jimmyyy!” Gem urged, “Hurry, this way!”

“Right, right, hurrying!”

He heard the mobs before he saw them, and there were a lot. At least two skeletons, a handful of zombies, and a spider. No wonder they’d been overwhelmed, even he was going to need to be careful about this. He motioned for Gem to stay back and brought up his shield, steeling himself with a breath for courage. Why Gem came to him with this was beyond him, but there was no turning back now. Joel needed him. Heck, Gem needed him. He peered around the corner where the pack was clustered around a cobblestone box and noticed a single creeper mixed into the bunch. Bingo. 

“Hey, big stupid mobs! Come and get me!” He shouted, and the entire group turned to come towards him. The creeper scuttled faster, pushing its way to the front, exactly what he was hoping for. He hid behind his shield as they all clustered together and the creeper hissed to life.

BOOM

The only surviving skeleton was easy to cut down with his sword, and he let out a huff of relief as the bones clattered to the floor. He did it. Holy moly he did it.

“Joel!” Gem rushed past him to the cobblestone box.

He helped her break away the stone, and inside the box with not so much as a torch sat Joel, who was maybe even younger than Scar, curled in on himself and shaking like a cold strider. A tiny part of Jimmy, the tiniest, ugliest part, whispered in his ear how easy it would be to get a dark green kill right now. How simple.

No. Not like this.

“I-I don’ l-like this wildcard…” Joel whined, before bursting into tears.

“Oh Joel, buddy, it’s alright…” Jimmy tried to comfort. His hands hovered uncertainly. A quick glance at Gem told him she wasn’t doing much better and was just barely keeping it together. He needed to come up with something quickly. 

Without stopping to consider the possible awkward consequences, he did the first thing he could think of. He reached down and scooped Joel into his arms.

“Hey, shhh, you’re alright, you’re okay… shhh. Uncle Tim’s gotcha now, everything’s gonna be A-OK.” He hushed, letting every soothing phrase he could think of tumble out of his mouth like alphabet soup. He threw in a little gentle rocking, pet Joel’s hair, anything he could think of until finally the shaking and crying began to settle. The shoulder of his jacket was soaked through with snot and tears by the time Joel properly came back around, but that was fine. He would just have to dunk it in the river or something later.

Joel sniffled and sat up slightly, using one hand to scrub at his face while the other stayed firmly clutched in his shirt. “Ugh… sorry about that, Jim. This whole kid ‘fing sucks…”

“…Joel? Are you okay?” Gem mumbled, face flushed and eyes puffy.

Joel thought for a second, then nodded slowly. “Yeah. Just got a bit scary there, y’know? Stupid baby brain didn’ like the dark.”

“M’so sorry…” She warbled, sounding on the edge of tears again, and Jimmy had to put a stop to that right away.

“Nope, no more crying!” He announced, maybe a bit too loudly, “Everything’s alright now. You did the best you could, Gem. See? Joel’s still on six lives because of you.”

“But I—“

“No buts! You did a good job protecting Joel, and Joel was very brave for staying safe down here by himself. Can we all agree?”

“Haha, butts.” He heard Joel mutter against his shirt. Jimmy counted that as a win.

“Perfect. Now we’re all going to get out of this cave, and you two can spend the night with the Bamboozlers, how does that sound?”

“Like a sleepover?” Gem tilted her head like a puppy, and now that they weren’t in a crisis, man, these guys were cute. 

“Yeah, like a sleepover. C’mon now, I’ve got to get back to Lizzie and Scar before they destroy the server.” He went to set Joel down, only for him to cling tighter and wrap his legs around his torso like a koala. Jimmy was happy to keep carrying him; if he was being honest he expect Joel to start thrashing to be let go the moment he came back to himself, but if he still needed it then Jimmy certainly wasn’t going to judge. Plus, one day it was going to be an amazing story to hold over his head. Maybe not today, but someday.

“So,” Joel said, a cheeky smile on his face as they started up to the surface, “‘Uncle Tim’, huh?”

Jimmy wordlessly reached up and pushed Joel’s head back against his shoulder. “Hush.”

[lilbitdepressed27]

Tara Carpenter/Fem!Reader The Hunger Games AU

Warnings: angst kinda, torture

WC: 4.6k

Author’s note: to the anon who requested it hope you like it and again sorry for the wait. Sorry for any mistakes:)

The quietness of distract 4 was peaceful. You had been in your house. The house you had gotten after winning the 73rd annual game. You had won the game due to luck. It had always been luck when it came down to you in those games. The person you had become in that arena was someone you feared. Someone you hated.

But you had lived. By some miracle. You survived. You won.

"Have you seen the victory tour the winners of last years are doing." Your best friends voice echoed through your art room.

"Not really. But from what I have seen. Their love seems kinda forced." You set down your paint brushes turning around to see your best friend, Anika standing there. She had been your rock in the games. She was the one of the only reasons, you had to fight. She was the only family you had. Apart of your mentor. Who was a lovely elderly woman. Anika was more of sister to you. As soon as you came back home. You had her move in with you.

"Well even if it is. It's what saved their asses. But that's not what I came for. Here." Anika had a smirk on her face as she handed you a letter.

You couldn't fight the smile that formed on your lips as you took the letter. The envelope had one letter.

T

You already knew who it was from. It had been a week since you last heard from her. With Anika making herself busy. You opened the envelope taking out the letter.

You said in your last letter that what we have is something one wishes for. You are such a sap for that and I love it. I miss you like crazy. It's unfortunate we can't see each other as much as we want. But I always look forward to every single moment we do. S says something is changing. And she's not sure if it's good. But I want you to be careful. I need you safe. I love you.

The letters were always written in a way no one could find suspicious if they were to be found. You had met Tara Carpenter during your own victory tour. You were in distract 3 it had been after you addressed the Daniel of the fallen tributes. It was then when you saw her. She was from distract three and a previous victor. She had caught your eye, it had felt like love at first sight. Something you never believed in until you met her. Ever since then you both had been sending each other letters. On rare occasions seeing each other secretly.

"How is she?"

"She's good. I think the rebellion is a lot more serious than we thought." Folding the letter and putting it back into the envelope. Getting up to lock it in your safe where you kept all her letters.

"Well from what's been shown, especially in district 11. I wouldn't be surprised. Ever since that poor little girl was killed it was like something shifted."

"Yea she's one of many unfortunate kids that had been killed in these stupid games. The way Katniss was in the games has moved the people of the district's. The care and protectiveness she showed for Rue. It was something never been seen in the games." You had remembered seeing the little girl get killed. It had been a heart wrenching moment. She had been too pure for those stupid games.

Anika remembered everything when she watched your games. The 73rd annual games had been different from all the others. Having been set in a snowy environment. Some of the tributes dying from the cold brutal weather. She remembered seeing you scared, you had almost been killed by someone from district 7. She remembers crying wanting to look away from the sight but she couldn't look away. The man from district 7 and you were that last two. She had watched how you fought with everything you had. How you struggled to get him off you. How the knife dug into your shoulder. The scream that ripped from your lips. It was a sound she had never heard before. A sound she would never forget. You were her sister. It was something she would never forget.

A part of her, the selfish part, was glad you no longer had to put your name in the games.

*

You were sat in your living room with Anika. Watching as the yearly announcement began. Watching as Snow looked at his note cards before looking at camera.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is the 75th year of the hunger games. And it was written in the charter of the games, that every 25 years, there would be a quarter quell to keep fresh for each new generation, the memory of those who died. In the uprising against the capitol. Each quarter Quell is distinguished by games of a special significance. And now on this the 75th anniversary of our defeat of the rebellion, we celebrate the 3rd quarter Quell. As a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the capitol. On this, the 3rd Quarter Quell Games, the male and Female Tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of Victors in each district."

You felt like the air had been punched out from your lungs. You couldn't believe what you had just heard. It couldn't be. It wasn't fair. You fought so hard the first time, with the promise that if you won, you would never have to step foot in an arena again.

"No. No! You were supposed to be done. It's not fair!"

All you could do was try to comfort your best friend. Knowing that the reaping was what followed.

*

Standing between Mags and Annie. Previous winners from past games. On the other side of Effie Trinket. Stood Finnick Odir and Dwight Riley. Mags Flanagan was the eldest Victor from district 4. She had been your mentor during your games. A part of you did not want her to go back to those games. You knew deep down that she wouldn't survive. And you knew Annie couldn't. She wouldn't.

A part of you hoped, prayed that Tara's name wasn't called. But you knew better. Not only was Tara's name in a similar bowl. But so was her sisters. Sam's name had been drawn when Tara was too young to volunteer in her sisters place. District 3 was the only district to have two victors be female siblings. If Sam's name was called and Tara would volunteer, there was nothing Sam could do.

"Welcome, welcome as we celebrate, the 75th anniversary and third quarter quill of the hunger games. As always ladies first."

"Mags Flanagan."

You heard Annie's breath hitch. Before she could even do anything, you weren't sure what was going through her mind. You were quicker. Stepping up and looking straight at Effie.

"I volunteer as tribute."

Ignoring the pleading looks from Anika and now Mags.

*

"Thank you for volunteering for Mags."

You were brought out of your thoughts. Finnick had sat next to you. You knew Finnick cared deeply about Mags. You also knew that the older victor cared about Mags. Mags was a treasure to distract 4. No one wanted her back in games. You sure as hell didn't. You didn't know who else was going to be at the games until you reached the capitol. Part of you hoped. Prayed you didn't see Tara. But then if you didn't see Tara. You'd see her sister. Sam.

"You would have done the same if you could. Have they aired who's going to be in the games?"

"No, you both won't find out until we get to the capital. Now we have to talk it's about what's gonna happen in that arena." Dewey, a victor from district 4 said as he walked into the room. His face showing nothing but determination.

*

You weren't sure how this was going to happen. You didn't know if this plan was even going to work. But it had to. These games couldn't continue. Seeing how far Snow was going to get rid of Katniss Everdeen it was a show of how much power this man really had. You were in the dressing room with Finnick, the stylist was doing his job with Finnick. You had already been finished. It wouldn't be long before you would have to make your way to the carriages, this tribute parade felt completely different from the first time you were in the games.

While Finnick was getting ready you stepped out of the room. The halls were as could be expected. Busy. Even though the halls were busy the people didn't even give you glimpse which you were thankful for. You need to find the people of district 3. You needed to find either Tara or Sam.

Making your way down the hall, seeing some of the other tributes. Most of them you knew on a more friendly way. Like the female victor from distract 7, Amber Freeman. She was a feisty, but yet brutal.

You were pulled out of your thoughts, quite literally, when someone gripped your wrist and pulled you into a dimly lit room.

"What the hell are you doing here!?" A whisper filled with anger and concern. But it was a voice you missed. A voice a part of you wished you didn't hear. Cause now she was in danger. Even with that plan that had been set. You couldn't help but to pull her in. Taking the short woman into your arms. Missing the warmth she had always gave you. You felt the moment she basically melted in your arms. Her arms wrapping around your bare waist

"I'm still angry you're here. You were supposed to be sa-I'd rather be here with you." You cupped Tara's cheeks. Looking into the dark brown eyes that quickly became your favorite. If Tara was here it meant that she had volunteered for Sam.

"Gosh you're such a sap. But I love you for it." Tara had fallen for you the first time she had met you. From the beginning she had shared a bond with you. Something she had never felt, as happy as she was to be in your arms again. The worry that you will also be in the games had grown. She had to have you by her side. She didn't care about no one else in that arena. Just you. And if she had to kill everyone else so be it. You. You had to live.

*

The air was tense. You could feel it. The training room was filled with all the tributes. You had separated from Finnick. Remembering the plan. To make allies. All you knew was, for a fact to have Tara by your side. You had to keep her safe. You knew she was capable of taking care of herself, she had been the victor to win the games the quickest. Killing the last tribute by stabbing the tribute from district 9 in his mouth with a knife.

Tara was a force to be reckoned with.

"That's a good fishing hook."

You looked away from your work, seeing the girl on fire. Seeing her in person was a whole lot different from seeing her on the projector. She looked like any other teenager. In times like these you kinda of forgot how young Katniss and Peeta really were. At the end you were basically the same age.

"Thank you Katniss."

"It was a noble thing to do for Mags."

"She's like a mother to me. I wasn't going to let her go through this again." You finished the hook and offered a small smile towards the brunette. "You wanna learn? It looks hard but it's pretty easy." Sparing a look at Tara who was busy talking to Peeta. Remembering that these victors from district 12 had no idea of the plan that had been set in play.

"Yea." She said with a small smile. Accepting the help from the other victor.

*

Even with everyone trying their best to stop the games. There was no sopping the inevitable. Which was why you found yourself at the edge of the arena with Katniss, Peeta, Finnick. Tara had been separated with her partner from the start. Which had killed you. Every time that cannon went it brought fear, dread. You were supposed to be with Tara. Make sure to watch her back like you're supposed to. But she had promised, swore that she'd be okay.

"I promise, I'll be okay." Tara had looked up at you as she wrapped her arms around your neck. Playing with your hair at the back of your neck. Her eyes filled with nothing but love. Her smile gracing her face as she looked at you. Her dimples on display for you to lightly kiss. You absolutely loved her dimples. From the moments you shared together, there was never a moment you didn't take the opportunity to kiss her dimples.

From the sight of the blush on her cheeks, you knew she liked the light kisses as well. "I worry. I'm scared if I'm honest." Your own arms wrapped around her waist pulling her closer. "I can't lose you Tara."

Her hands moved to your cheeks. Gently caressing your cheeks.

"And you won't. We will see each other again." She had sounded so confident, so sure that nothing could separate each other.

And Tara had been sure. When she reunited with you on the beach, she had never felt so happy and relieved. The sound of the canons going off had truly been frightening to hear, not knowing if you were okay. You had clearly not cared that she was covered in blood when you hugged her. Ignoring the confused looks from everyone else. She had hugged you just as tight.

Letting you help her wash off all the blood she had on herself. "Hey, you okay?" Drawing your attention away from her hair as she tilted her head back slightly to look up at you. Watching as you looked away towards the others and then back to her.

"Yea, just-Tara, Y/n come on we have a plan."

Tara should have pushed for you to answer, with chaos that followed she had been so certain that everything would go according to plan. Maybe with some bumps, but adamant that you would okay. The explosion had been loud, hot, she had felt her body flying through the air from the force of it all. Losing you in the middle of all the chaos, her back hitting something solid before her would went dark.

**

The sound of voices yelling had been what startled her awake. The immense pain coming from her leg had her crying out.

"Tara, hey it's okay, you're okay."

Her eyes squeezed shut from the pain. Trying to regularize her erratic breathing. Opening her eyes, she noticed, that she was now on a hovercraft. Looking towards where she heard the sound of a familiar voice.

"Sam?"

Offering a small smile, the older Carpenter was stood right next to where her sister was laid. Preparing herself what she had to do. "Hey sis, you did good out there."

The smile Tara had was short lived when she realized you were missing. You would have been right next to her, should have been tight next to her the moment she woke up. But your presence was absent. Unless you were hurt.

"Where's Y/n? Is she hurt?" Seeing the way Sam was avoiding her eyes she knew it couldn't be anything good. You were probably really hurt. Really hurt if you weren't in the room with her. Tara's mind was running all types of scenarios. All of them causing her heart to race in a type of panic.

"Tara, Y/n's tracker was still in her arm when the explosion happened. Amber was able to take Katniss's out but Y/n was fighting with the victors from district 2 Jill Roberts and Charlie Walker." Sam wasn't sure how to tell her sister. That the girl her little sister was madly in love with was-

"Sam! Where's Y/n?" The question was repeated but this time with more aggression that was deeply laced with fear, a clear sign of Tara wanting to know where you be located. She sat up the pain of her broken leg that shooting up her spine

"Tara." The hands on her shoulders were firm. "Y/n didn't make it out of the arena, she was taken to the capitol along with Peeta."

*

"Tell us where they took Katniss Everdeen and the rest of the victors."

Your head hang loosely, your wrist were red and sore from bulling on your restraints. The torture you were enduring was too intense for your body. But you would not crack. You'd never say anything. You heard them doing the same thing to Peeta.

"I don't know." You mumbled. Your hair was roughly pulled back, a groan escaping your lips.

"Lies!"

"I don't know." You said through gritted teeth. The hold this guard had on your hair was getting more painful as the seconds passed by.

"You won't talk, we will make you talk."

**

Tara had been restless the moment they had landed at District 13. She was angry, worried, she couldn't imagine what the capitol was doing to you. The torture you were for sure being inflicted upon. Just the thought of you being in pain was causing her eyes to fill with tears.

"I have to get her back." Tara sat up on her bed and got out. Getting her crutches to find the people in charge. She didn't care that her leg was broken and that it would take up to three to six months.

Leaving the room only to see Katniss Everdeen talking to Finnick. Seeing Finnick, Tara wanted nothing more than to punch him. He was the one that was supposed to cut out your tracker. With that in mind her blood shot red eyes narrowed as she made her way to the taller boy.

"We will get them back. I promise you that." Katniss had seen the fire in the shorter girls eyes. Knowing that Tara was about to take her anger out on Finncik. Just like she had done. She could relate to the anger, to worry that Tara was feeling. She had seen the embrace Tara had shared with you back on that beach. The way they looked at each other. It was a way no friends did. Let alone victors that were in game that was kill or be killed.

Tara looked away from the blonde man. Looking at the tall girl, "How? They're in the capital Katniss. Who knows what that asshole is putting them through."

Placing a hand on the short girls shoulder. "We will get them back."

*

You have never felt so hungry. So sore, you were sure you had a few broken bones. The guards had just finished one of their daily beatings. Your body covered in bruises, cuts and welts. Your back burned like crazy, preventing you from laying on your back. You had no tears left to cry, but yet you still felt so scared.

They asked you about Katniss, the rebellion, Peeta, the games, the plan. Tara. They kept on asking about Tara. That's what scared you. You didn't know where Tara was at. Or if she was even alive. You weren't even sure what day it was. Or how longs it's been since you saw Tara.

You barely registered that Peeta's screams had stopped. He had been suffering his own type of torture.

You knew they had forced Peeta to speak to Ceasar.

"Peeta?"

His sobbing stopped, the sounds of his whizzing breath was all that was heard. "...I warned Katnisss."

You didn't even know what was happening out there. But you knew from the way the guards were acting it was bad. The sound of footsteps had you mentally preparing you for what's to come. Waiting for what horrors of the day awaited you

Seeing the men in masks barging into the room. Seeing the cart filled with the tools they were going to use. The fear growing in your stomach at the sight of the different syringes. You tried to fight. You always did, never making it easy for them. It always lead to you being brutally beaten. You once had succeeded in hitting one guard in his private area. Being able to take his weapon, beating him and the other guard in with the baton. You had tried to retrieve the keycard, but you hadn't gotten far. Only making it to the front of Peeta's cell, ignoring Peeta's pleas to leave him before more guards arrived.

The punishment you received the days that followed had been horrible. The pain that you were put in those days had almost killed you.

All you wanted now was to see Tara again. All you wanted was Tara.

*

Sam, Amber, Chad, Ethan and Gale had all been in the hovercraft. Sam had promised her sister that she'd bring you back to her. Although a part of her was afraid on what they were going to find. The small window that was open while the Capitols defenses were down. They were using said window to recuse you and Peeta.

Amber had demanded to go as well. She had felt guilty, it had been her job to take out your tracker. If Finnick was unable to do so. Tara had wanted to go as well. But she was not allowed. Not when her leg that was still broken.

The silence had been chilling. No one single guard was in sight as they stormed the halls. Clearing, searching every room they passed. The dread that filled her heart every single second that passed. She had to locate you.

"Holy shit, Sam I found her." Amber's voice brought her out of her head. She hurried towards Amber, only to see her next to someone that didn't even look like you. What scared her was that it looked like you weren't breathing.

"Sam is she breathing?"

She had forgotten that Tara was able to see from the live feed that her helmet was recording. Before she could answer the lights in the once dark was now bright. The night vision goggles that she had on became almost blinding. The static coming from her ear was enough for her to know that the connection back home was lost.

*

Tara paced, the best she could with a broken leg. It has been two hours since they lost connection with the Sam and the others. She didn't have a chance to see you. Amber's camera had cut off before she could see you.

"Tara, they've arrived. They rushed Peeta, Annie and Y/n to the hospital wing." Sidney said from her position at the desk that overlooked everything.

Tara didn't wait, moving as quickly as she possibly could. Passing Katniss who was also quick to find Peeta. She didn't care about anyone, just you. Before she reach the doors that hopefully lead to you she was stopped.

"No, Sam. Move. Get out of my way." She tried to get around her but the firm hands on her shoulders had stopped her.

"She's in surgery right now Tara. You can't go in." Seeing the way her sisters eyes were filled with tears. The clear desperation of wanting to get to you. "I know you want to see her but we have to let the doctors work."

The next five hours dragged on. With no updates on you was making Tara feel like she was going crazy. Until the doctor finally came out. She was out of her seat in no time.

"She's stable, she suffered a lot from the hands of the capitol. She has three fractured ribs, a broken wrist, she severely malnourished, her back is filled with lacerations, some barely healed and others, if not most fresh. She's in room four, go on ahead."

**

The pain felt like it was all over your body. Your back felt like it was burning. The emptiness in your stomach felt so painful. Your arm, your ribs, the pain was everywhere. It was almost too much. The burning sensation of your irises at the bright lights that shinned down on you.

You couldn't remember what happened. The last thing that you did remember was the guards storming into your cell. That had been the last thing you remembered.

A warm hand taking yours was what brought you out of your head. The pain momentarily easing as you opened your eyes once again. The room was now dimly lit. Your eyes looking down at your hand, the one that was being held. But you had been through this so many times. The relief that always flooded your body at the sight of your beautiful brunette. Only to have it ripped from you. They only used tracker jackers venom on you a few times. But it had been enough for you to break.

"Hey baby." Her voice was just like before. Expect this time, she had some faded bruises. Not like other times when her face was clear of any harm.

You squeezed your eyes shut. Refusing to give into the venom. Yet there was nothing you could do when it came to tracker jacker venom. The hallucinations always seemed so real. Like how Tara always appeared in your hallucinations, but to blame you for leaving her behind. Always appearing to be de-, she would blame you. But this time it was different. This hallucinations was even holding your hand.

"Y/n?"

"You're not real."

Her heart broke, as tears filled her eyes at the sound of your voice. The strain of your voice, the denial that filled it. The way your voice cracked. Your eyes refused to open. The doctor had told her that you had traces of tracker jacker venom in your blood. "Y/n I'm real. I'm here. Open your eyes for me."

You squeezed your eyes tighter, until you felt the familiar warm sensation of her palms. You fought against your fears and opened your eyes. In your hallucinations Tara never touched you. But here she was. "T-Tara?"

The soft sob that escaped her lips, "Yea it's me baby. It's really me."

Seeing the familiar brown eyes, the safety that they brought had you bursting into tears. All the pain, the torture (physical and mental) it all came at you at once. Overwhelming you in a way you never imagined you'd feel.

Tara climbed on to the bed, the best she could without hurting you. Or her leg. Taking you into her arms, you didn't complain about any pain but she was still careful. You leaned closer into her arms. Her arms wrapping around you

"You're safe now. You're safe."

*

You were still struggling. Your bones felt weak, you felt drained with no energy. The doctors said that it was normal, seeing that it had only been two weeks since you were rescued. The fall of the capitol had happened a few days ago. Snow was dead, Finnick was dead as well. That had been hard to hear.

"Tara?"

Tara hadn't left your side at all. Helping you whenever she could. "Yea? Do you need anything? Water? Are you hun-I love you." The worry settled as it was replaced with the pure love she has for you. The love in your eyes was something she never got over.

"I love you to."

The games were permanently over. Life without the games was going to be different but she knew it was going a good type of different. A safer life with you was all she ever wanted.

And now she had it.

:)

[microwaving-tesilid-argente]

@orathearsonman

crawls back up from the depths i have been called.... i will stay strong....!!!!!

every single chapter we get where tesilid hestio and ephael are in the same room and don't interact at all i die a little on the inside

[disturbedbeautywrites]

Bullet wounds and love letters - Joel Miller Imagine

Synopsis: when you’re investigating a weird noise in your base for the night, Joel finds himself being brought back to the night he lost Sarah.

Warnings: cursing, mentions of slight gore, injury, and I think that’s it

Click.

You heard the gun cock before anything else. Joel and Ellie were both asleep when you heard someone moving around in the building you guys were staying in for the night. You of course had your gun on you, but the two raiders had you outnumbered.

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat as they demanded you give them all the food that you had. You slowly took off your pack and slid them all the food that was in there, your movements slow. You knew that you couldn’t beat both of them, so you were just trying to keep the peace right now.

They greedily took the food and then looked you over, a sick smile on their lips. “Please don’t…” Your words were a small whimper as they shared wicked gazes, the gun now pointing at your abdomen. “Good luck, princess.” That’s when the gun went off and you felt pain shoot through your abdomen, falling to your knees as you put your hand over the wound. It was bleeding profusely, a strangled sob leaving your lips.

The raiders had decided to walk off, convinced they would wake any infected that was around. “Y/N? I heard a - Fuck.” Ellie’s voice could be heard as you tried to hold the blood in, giving her a slightly scared smile. “Ellie, I need you to go get our first aid kit, okay?” Your words were shaky as she nodded and took off running, yelling for Joel. Tears kept slipping down your cheeks as you slowly fell down to the floor, the pain coursing through every single inch of your body now. It was making you feel extremely weak. Your breaths felt more and more shallow as the seconds passed, your hands covering the wound as your head laid back against the floor. Leave it to you to survive the worst of the apocalypse but be killed by raiders. It was just your luck.

“Baby…” Joel’s voice felt like it was a hundred miles away as he ran over to you and immediately dropped to his knees as Ellie ran up behind him and she dropped the kit at your side. He started to give Ellie instructions, pulling out a small bottle of tequila you kept for wound purposes as well as a needle and some fishing line. Joel was shaking and nervous, your hand covering his as you tried to soothe him with all the energy you had left. He took the tequila bottle and put it up to your lips, lifting your head so you could take a gulp of it. “This is going to hurt sweetheart, and I’m so sorry.” His voice sounded smaller than you had ever heard it, his hands moving to pour the alcohol into your wound.

You let out a hiss of air between your teeth, your body instinctively reacting and convulsing to get away from the painful sensation. You kept your eyes locked on his, his look far away and you knew exactly what was going through his head. He had told you about Sarah in passing when you two were getting to know each other, and now you were laid here on the ground with the same exact wound she died from. He wasn’t going to let that happen again, that he was sure of. He tried to keep his breathing steady and not let the panic attack take hold. He tried to forget the feeling of holding his dying daughter in his arms. He was trying. He was trying so damn hard. You wouldn’t turn out the same. You couldn’t. He needed you. He couldn’t lose this battle again. He just couldn’t. He wasn’t strong enough anymore.

You had Joel on one side of your body, his fingers slowly working the needle and the fishing line through the wound. The bullet was already out and the wound didn’t look fatal, that was evident from the way you were still alive. But, he was still nervous. He wasn’t going to lose two girls to the same damn fate. He had his lip pulled between his teeth as he worked, Ellie squeezing your hand from the other side of you.

As he kept working, the pain kept getting worse and worse. The tattered edges of your skin were more and more painful with each pass of the needle and your whimpers were getting louder. “Hey, look at me.” Ellie’s voice called out to you as you felt on the edge of blacking out from the immense pain, your vision going blurry and black around the edges. Your gaze slowly moved over to the girl beside you who had become like a daughter to you. You had never had kids, but she was the equivalent of one to you now and as she sat there, pulling her joke book out to distract you, you felt your heart grow 3 sizes. She was trying to make you feel better in the one way she knew how; trying to make you laugh. As she was sitting there telling you jokes, you could feel more and more tears slipping down your cheeks.

You couldn’t die, not now. You finally found a family. You found someone who cared about you more than he cared about hisself and you found a little girl who needed you just as much as she needed you. You finally belonged somewhere. “Okay, babe I need to move you. You’re all stitched up but we need to get you somewhere safe.” You heard Joel’s voice in your ear as he went to move you, a loud noise of pain leaving your lips as you laid across his arms bridal style. “I know, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” His voice was hushed as he tried to shake off the memory of Sarah in his arms just like this, tears slipping down his cheeks as he carefully carried you back to where the three of you were camping.

The journey didn’t take long, but along the way you had let the exhaustion overcome you. Your eyes slid closed in a way that you didn’t know if you would wake up from, but it was a welcome distraction from the pain. Your dreams were one of your favorite places to be, outside of being with Joel and Ellie. You could plan your life and how it would go once the outbreak was over, if that would ever happen. You could see yourself living a normal life with the two of them, having a pretty house and a yard. You weren’t fighting to survive every single day. It was peaceful. It was something you wish you could have.

“Babe, dinners ready. I also managed to find some of our old pills in my bag for the pain.” Joel’s soft voice stirred you from your slumber as he sat beside you on your sleeping bag, his lips pressing to your forehead. His eyes were still teary and you could see the fear on his face as he pressed his lips to yours softly, pausing to whisper he loved you.

Once the words were returned he looked at you as if you were the most fragile thing he had ever laid eyes on, his fingers timidly running over your skin. “I thought I lost you. You scared me.” His words were soft as he met your gaze, a small smile taking over your lips. You allowed your fingers to brush over his cheeks, your thumb brushing away stray tears. “You’re going to have to try real hard to get rid of me, Miller.” The teasing in your voice just made him smile even bigger, his lips pressing to yours again before he carefully helped you maneuver to take the medicine and eat some of the food that was prepared.

Was this a perfect scenario? No, it was far from it. But, you had your little family and that’s all that mattered.

[petitesmafia]

saw a take that claimed “Dazai wouldn’t sit at Chuuya’s grave” and i disagree. not even in a ship type of way, but i think Dazai definitely would— he would sit there for hours to talk shit like “day 1 living in a slug-less paradise! i ran into the most vicious small dog today. i see your spirit lives on.” 

“day 30 in this blissful, Chuuya-free utopia: hey slug, did you know? The national average for height in young men increased after you kicked the bucket. like significantly.”

"day 67 of beautiful peace and harmony bc you’re not here to ruin my day: remember that shop that sold those atrocious hats you always bought? they came out with a new design today and i almost shed tears of gratefulness knowing i would never have to see you wearing it. truly thankful."

"day 365. happy one year anniversary of becoming dirt! i slept great last night. came here just to say: remember when you laughed at me for going to prison? saying 'good luck getting out of that box'? well good luck getting out of yours! who's laughing now!"

skk's need to annoy each other runs DEEP. i'm telling you Dazai would show up to Chuuya's grave OFTEN bc "you really think you can escape me by dying? you think i'll let you rest peacefully? not a chance. in fact i hope you’re rolling in there. i will see to it personally"