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biteofcherry · 20 days ago

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Viper's snare

naga!Lloyd Hansen x female reader

summary: You doubted any of the people visiting Scaretale did it because of their anxiety. There was therapeutic exposition and then there was this mad stupidity to serve yourself on a platter for brutal monsters to consume.

warnings: naga!Lloyd; dark!Lloyd; monsterfucking, but no bestiality; heavy dub-con; bondage (of snake tail sorts); constriction; snake venom causing paralysis; oral (f receiving); two cocks; double penetration; cockwarming; unprotected sex; smidge of degradation; praise; symptoms of anxiety;

word count: 4.3k

Author’s Note: I thought I wouldn't write anything more hot and monstrous than Ari or Steve in the Scaretale universe, but Lloyd took me by complete surprise 😳I was not prepared for him. And you are definitely not prepared for him, either. Rip all our holes.

You paused right on the steps of the Scaretale. Breathe in. One, two, three, four. Hold it. One, two, three, four. Breathe out. One, two, three, four. Hold it. One, two, three, four.

Feeling a little bit anxious before entering a club full of various monsters was completely normal and understandable, you told yourself. You had no idea what exactly awaited, how many there would be, how big and scary.

It was a success you made it this far without cowering and running back home. But you were determined. Scared, but determined.

Or maybe you were just fed up with the constant disappointment and judgment you got from most human men. You didn’t want to generalize, your dad was good and understanding, but the guys you dated (so definitely your father didn’t count in that pool) let you down in that one, vulnerable aspect.

You would maybe get it, if you had some hardcore kinks they were too scared to fulfill. That wasn’t the case, however.

Honestly, you were pretty boring and average in that department. You liked missionary. You liked cockwarming; oh, did that count as kink? You didn’t think so. Prone bone was great, too.

Any position where the partner would crush you down.

If it was limited only to sex, maybe your exes would roll with it and never withdraw. The thing was, that need stretched beyond only sexual encounters.

Your therapist said that you had the mental brain part of anxiety reined in - you learned and used all the techniques, you bravely disconnected from using cognitive avoidance strategies, you understood your anxiety and even chilled out with the bitch. However, there was also the biochemical part of the brain responsible for that reaction.

It was that messy chemistry in your brain, which sometimes made your body shake and feel too tense. Being tightly held was the instant relief.

Which is why you loved your weighted blanket; why you slept wrapped in a duvet like a burrito; why you wanted your partners to hold you so tight they could suffocate you. That exact part appeared to be a burden worse to bear than if you asked them to slap you around. Because you didn’t just need a sweet cuddle. You wanted that hold to be really, really tight.

Despair, or maybe it was logical thinking, led you to the Scaretale. If human men couldn’t provide you what you needed, maybe a huge, muscly monster would. With the size and mass of some of them, perhaps their regular hug was the vice you needed to feel.

But it was still scary, entering the mysterious club. Would you find yourself disappointed, if only some gentle fae was interested in you? Then again, maybe they had better drugs, which would help instead of deadly cuddling.

The composition of softest sounds that greeted you upon entering, was a surprise. A combination of very hushed tones, melodic tinkling of glasses, an echo of Pan’s flute hanging in the air. It reminded you of the ambient music you often listened to.

The club was filled with dimmed, glowing light. Jewel tones on the walls, floor and ceiling felt like an expensive, cozy duvet. It would appear one of the most comforting of spaces, if not for the chill that crept beneath your skin. Usually you’d blame it on your anxiety, but there was something more to the sensation now. As if your instincts weren’t just exaggerating, instead awakening a very primal self-preservation mode.

The space felt safe, but what awaited you wasn’t.

Swallowing nervously, you wrapped your arms around yourself and looked around. A few curious gazes were taking in your form, but they weren’t the ones who tickled your survival instinct.

You’d still be wary around that charmingly smiling merman - who had his human form on, but you recognized his species by the pointy ears, a shimmer of delicate scales framing his cheekbones, and a necklace of seashells and amber. He had the looks of a handsome, sweet guy you’d meet-cute in a grocery store, or a library, but who’d sweep you into the depths of his secluded cave and devour you. Maybe even literally.

Though his gaze followed you as you stepped through the club, it wasn’t his attention that started that quivering in your fingers. To be honest, you were becoming really scared of finding out who caused that.

There was therapeutic exposition and then there was this mad stupidity to serve yourself on a platter for brutal monsters to consume.

Deciding it was the peak of your bravery, you promptly turned on your heel to run away from this place. But there was no door to exit through.

Or maybe they moved somewhere, because all you had in front of you was a round alcove lit up with drops of glowing light so unlike the rest of the lamps in the Scaretale. Not a soft yellow, but almost red. Like heating lamps.

There was no booth, or a sofa, or chairs, but pillows upon pillows upon pillows. On which rested a shimmering black coil of enormous reptilian tale.

Its very tip was easily the size of your forearm. As it stretched upwards the size of it thickened, surpassing the size of human hips. Where said hips should be, the curve of the snake’s tale gradually transformed into a male’s belly and chest. His abdominal muscles were so well defined; his biceps were thick and big, too, even as he had his arms lazily spread on the pile of pillows.

He was a naga, you realized.

While most naga were said to have green or gold coloring of their tails, this one had black. Though each scale seemed to have an iridescent effect, fascinating the gaze with a dark rainbow of colors catching light.

Your eyes slowly moved over his terrifying form. You were so damn scared of snakes!

It was that fear freezing you in place that held you captive. At least at first, before your eyes finally reached the monster’s face.

He was handsome. In a lethal kind of way. Mustache was never a feature you found attractive, but on him it looked good. Sinister, but good. Hair on the sides of his head were cropped short, but the middle part was a coif of silky dark strands.

Then there were his eyes. An opalescent kind of dark blue. With the black pupil in a reptilian vertical shape.

That pupil seemed to widen for a split of a second, before narrowing and your own gaze felt somehow caught by it. You were unable to move your gaze away. Time seemed to slow down, reality around you melted away. But it was still just a second. One that stretched into eternity as you stayed mesmerized by the naga, but which was enough for his ultra fast moves.

His tail snapped towards you, coiling around your legs and snatching you forward to him.

A scream left your lips, but no one in the club reacted.

He drew you into the alcove, weaving his thick tail around your body; including trapping your arms at your sides. You felt warmth seeping into your skin, relaxing and comforting your muscles. Was it from the heating lamps glowing above, or from his proximity, you weren’t sure.

“Please, let me go.” Your voice wavered on a hushed whisper.

“Shh.” He cooed, tightening his snare. “It’s okay, little mouse. I saw you trembling with fear and just wanted to help. Give you a reassuring hug, you see.”

His sympathy was a wicked mockery, but there was something more terrifying to it - the unexpected realization that his hold around your body was actually providing said reassurance.

You were scared of him, of how he could hurt you, but that shivering your brain tended to induce was subsiding faster than when you snuggled under your weighted blanket.

“Such a pretty thing.” He mused, tightening and releasing the muscles in his tail which gave you a sensation of it rubbing against your body. “What’s your name, Mousekin?”

You answered, looking up at him with teary eyes; pleading for him to release you. He didn’t seem to be interested in even acknowledging that issue. Holding you still in his crushing grip, he reached his hand to caress your cheek.

“Lovely. I’m Lloyd.” He introduced himself. “Seems to me like you’re a woman who enjoys a good cuddle.” As if to emphasize that, he squeezed you tighter, almost constricting your lungs for a brief moment. “Ain’t that just perfect that I enjoy it, too?”

His eyes sparked with dark mischief, his lips curving in a sinister smirk.

Your cuddling preferences and his weren’t on the same spectrum, far from it. Yet the strength with which he crushed your fragile body gave you that sense of safety and comfort, after which your body so often longed like a drug addict in withdrawal.

“I don’t-” you wanted to politely excuse yourself from the situation, because as much as your body liked the feeling of being held tightly, you knew it wasn’t safe for you to let it unfold further.

“Why don’t I help you relax more, huh?” Lloyd spoke, as if you didn’t utter a single word.

His hand, which stroked your cheek, moved to cup your chin. His grip tightened, rending your face immobile. With his thumb and forefinger he pressed on a particular spot in your jaw, forcing you to open your mouth.

With eyes widening in fear, you watched him lean closer. His lips parted and white, shiny teeth appeared. One of his teeth elongated and a drop of shiny, golden liquid gathered on its tip.

Some snakes were venomous. Was he going to kill you?

Lloyd pressed his lips to yours; not kissing you. Your mouth tingled where his touched it, but otherwise there was no sensation. Until that drop from his fang fell down onto your tongue. The substance coated your appendage with burning sweetness. That sensation spread rapidly, taking over your whole body from the inside.

He pulled back, with a grin observing as realization dawned on you. It wasn’t visible on your face alone, since all your muscles deliciously relaxed, but your beautiful, big eyes shone in fear.

His venom paralyzed you. Only the muscles which could get in his way, before he managed to break you into sweetly compliant. Some day in the future he won’t need to drug you to have you boneless and accepting of whatever he did to your body.

“There you go,” he cooed, running his hands down your limp arms. “All soft and lax. And so warm from within, ain’t you, my cute Mousekin?”

You felt that burning effect of venom melt into heat that spread through each of your limbs, filling your abdomen with tingling warmth. Your pussy fluttered, wetting slightly as the neurotoxin messed with your brain.

“Let’s help you out of those unnecessary constrictions.” Lloyd hummed so sweetly, turning his actions into more sick and twisted as he started unbuttoning your flowery dress.

You wanted to protest, but your throat was able to produce only a tiny, barely audible whimper. Your tongue laid unmoving. You couldn’t move a single part of your body, though you felt it responding to Lloyd’s ministrations.

Your nipples hardened when he exposed your breasts and a gust of air grazed them. The way his eyes were greedily mapping out every inch of your body pooled more wetness between your thighs.

He eased the grip of his tail only enough to peel your dress away. Then the scales brushed against your naked skin, evoking a completely new sensation that zapped through your pliant body; straight to your clit.

“What a stunning, sweet Mousekin I have caught.” Lloyd sighed in not-entirely-fake admiration, as he took your naked form in.

“Let me take a good look all over.” Something darker flashed in his eyes and his tail coiled around you tighter. Then your body was being lifted off the floor.

Holding you in the air, Lloyd drew your body closer to his torso. His tail shifted, more of it winding around your upper body, while leaving your bottom half exposed. Your legs were limp, they parted so easily when he used his hands to grip below your knees and spread them wide.

“Ohh,” he licked his lips hungrily, “such a moist, tasty snack.”

He brought his mouth near your center, scenting along the juncture of your thigh first. Then his tongue flicked out; longer than human and forked at the end.

A cry wanted to rip out of your lungs, but stayed buried within, when Lloyd swiped his tongue between your folds. If not for the paralysis, your entire body would violently shake in response to the surge of pleasure.

When he flicked the tip of his tongue against your clit, you felt the jolt bring tears to your eyes. Most overwhelming, happy tears. Because his forked tongue teased both sides of your swollen pearl at once, providing a stimulation nothing else ever came close to.

Slick poured out of you in a thankful gush. Which Lloyd greeted with a chuckle, then smashed your brain into a pulp slithering his tongue into your dripping hole.

It was softer than any toy, or finger, but moved with a maddening wiggle.

Your pussy spasmed. Perhaps, it was for the best that your vocal cords were switched off for the moment, because the sounds you would make from that stimulation had to be inhuman.

“Delicious.” Lloyd licked his lips lewdly as he slowly lowered your body down.

Inwardly, you felt as if your body was twitching, edged with unbearable pleasure; though you were aware not a single finger of yours moved, still under the influence of his venom.

Holding your legs wide apart, Lloyd moved your pelvis back and forth against the thickest part of his tail. Right where you’d expect…

Air stuck in your lungs, a strangled sound bubbling out of your open mouth when you felt a defined hardness slipping between your folds. You haven’t seen his cock before when you looked over his body, but the shape of it pressing into your most intimate part was unmistakable.

There was just one thing not right about it.

Because you felt the thick, veiny length spreading your folds to rub against your clit, but also felt the same shape nudged between your buttocks.

“Ah!” Lloyd tutted, caressing your cheek with the back of his hand. “You’re not familiar with naga’s anatomy, Mousekin.”

He traced the outline of your lips with his fingertips. Your tongue could now move a tiny bit, only minimally, and it responded when his fingers slid into your mouth. Just a twitch. Lloyd tugged on it gently, drawing your tongue out to rest on your bottom lip. Saliva pooled down it, slowly dripping onto your chin, then lower still: onto your chest and Lloyd’s tail.

“We-” his warm breath puffed against your open mouth- “have-” his tongue flicked against yours- “two-” he rocked you against his hardness- “cocks.”

Your pupils widened. More drool dribbled out of your mouth as garbled sounds bounced against the roof of your mouth. That’s why he was so obscenely grinding you back and forth against him, so that your slick coated two dicks.

“Exciting, right?” Lloyd chuckled; his tail increased its constricting pressure on your body.

“Two cocks for your two, tight holes.”

Slowly, he pulled you down.

The strength in his tail was beyond what you could physically fight even if you had the full mobility of your body, so it held you down easily. Lloyd’s big hands dug into the soft meat of your thighs. His own muscles constricted as he rutted up into you, forcing his cocks into your holes.

Your pussy opened easier, though it was still a stretch considering his girth. Your rim resisted, but Lloyd was merciless. A choked cry vibrated in your throat when his dick breached in.

He didn’t pause once, continuing a firm stroke. Shamelessly, Lloyd groaned out loud his pleasure as he filled you. His sounds were nearly pornographic the deeper he went and the more your walls struggled.

When he bottomed out, he moaned, tilting his head back. Veins on his neck throbbed. As did the cocks inside of you.

“So good, Mousekin.” He praised, returning his gaze to you. “You’re so hot and tight around me. Just like we both like the most.”

His tail slithered around your torso, giving you a tighter squeeze. You hated how much your body enjoyed the constriction. You were overwhelmed with being impaled, stretched and filled; being taken against your consent; but you still felt comfort and safety in the way he was holding you.

“You’re a perfect cocksleeve,” Lloyd cupped your face with both hands and leaned in.

With your tongue poking out and muscles still mostly numbed, you couldn’t respond to his obscene kiss. But you felt your lips tingling and your tongue twitching as Lloyd’s forked one swiped against it, before plunging into your mouth.

When he withdrew, more of your saliva dropped down onto your torso. Where your breasts swell with arousal, heavy roundness resting atop the snake’s tail that weaved around your ribs.

Lloyd’s fingers danced down the column of your neck and lower. He smeared around trickles of your saliva, rubbed it into your stiffened nipples, then pinched. Your walls clenched in response.

“I’m going to get addicted to the way your walls hug me.” He groaned in delight. “Will have you cockwarming me for hours, mousekin. Keep you tied to me, so that your fragile, anxious body can fully relax and focus on being filled.”

You hated how right he was. For the past long minutes not once has your mind ignited with fear of being killed, or maimed, but all the focus was on basic primal sensations. How intense, but good it was to feel him deep inside of you. How lax and lazy your usually tense body was.

“Let’s use you whole, my little cocksleeve,” Lloyd hummed and his tail brushed against your naked skin as he stretched his coil further.

His tail moved up around you, weaving around your shoulders and the back of your head. Until the very tip tapped your cheek.

Then it slid right against your open mouth.

It was too wide to force itself into your mouth, but Lloyd stroked it back and forth over your tongue that was sticking out.

At the same time, his hands slid up your thighs. With his thumbs, he brushed your parted, swollen folds. Touched you where one of his cocks speared into your cunt. Then his thumbs pressed on both sides of your clit and your insides constricted.

Garbled sounds bubbled in your throat, gaining in vibration as venom slowly lost its power. Lloyd’s tail moved vigorously, in contrast to the unmoving cocks snug deep inside you. His thumbs rolled across your clit - left, then right, then left again. When he pinched your nub, your arousal peaked and snapped.

A long, faint whine reverberated against the tail resting across your tongue. Your pussy and ass squeezed tightly, making Lloyd groan.

“ ‘Atta girl,” he praised softly, still teasing your pulsing pearl with a featherlike touch, prolonging the aftershocks.

Tip of his tail eased down, dropping across your chest where it rested between your breasts. Your mouth was wet, saliva smeared all over your cheeks and chin. But you were finally able to move your tongue, drawing it back inside your mouth. You swallowed and then let out a ragged breath, your voice croaked.

You were still unable to move, though you could curl your toes and wiggle your fingers a bit. Then again, the naga’s tail was still firmly wrapped around you, holding you in place as he filled you.

Heart pounded in your chest. Not out of fear, but from the rush of orgasm and the growing hunger for another one.

Your body, the betraying bitch, liked how Lloyd made it relax.

Through heavy eyelids, you peeked at Lloyd. He eased his upper body back, resting against the pile of soft pillows. Arms once again thrown broadly to the sides, a nonchalant prick. With a smug smirk curving beneath his mustache, he watched your body straddling him. He enjoyed every fucking detail about the display - his black tail around you, slivers of your skin peeking between the coils, your breasts shiny with your drool, your thighs spread so wide that your pussy was fully exposed and he could see his cock disappear into your tight hole.

You stayed like that for long minutes: your body still fully at his mercy, slowly regaining the ability to move and speak. There was no further stimulation as Lloyd simply stared at you and basked in the way your walls enveloped him in your heat.

Cockwarming for hours, he said. It appeared he meant that literally.

A part of you melted into the idea. There was something comforting, completely void of anxiety, to be filled and held and not caring about anything else.

There was another part, too. A primal, needy part, as overactive as your anxiety-prone brain parts. It grew a little restless, itching to be brought to that edge again and promptly tipped over.

Dam it, you wanted another orgasm.

“P-please,” your voice was still weak, but you managed to whisper.

“What do you need, mousekin?” Lloyd asked, though the way his smirk broadened into a grin, he knew damn well what your body craved.

You wanted to blurt out that you needed him to let you go, that you wanted to go home. You came to the Scaretale with some not well thought through fantasies of finding a nice monster, who would hug you tight and could become a future partner. You weren’t prepared for the evil turn of events and being ensnared by a deviant naga.

Who hugged your body better than any weighted blanket, but breached any boundary and used you for his pleasure.

“Home-” you dared to beg, hoping to hear (even if he laughed first) that you would be allowed to return home after he was satisfied with your holes warming him.

“Aww, sunshine.” Lloyd cooed, resting his hands on your knees and giving a soothing squeeze. “We’ll go home soon enough.”

You jerked in his hold as a terrifying realization dawned on you. He would never let you back to your own place. He wanted to keep you. You shook your head as much as you could, which wasn’t much.

“You’ll like it, mousekin.” He continued. “It’s so warm. In a very sunny area. A classy stone finish, so that so many surfaces gather heat and are pleasant to rest on. And I own the lands around it, so it’s quiet and void of any unnecessary stimuli.”

He let out a dark chuckle, drawing his hands higher up your thighs.

“But you’ll get all the stimulation from me, mousekin.”

His tail gripped you tighter anew, making your breath hitch in your lungs as he constricted your ribs. He pulled you up slightly; his cocks dragging along your fluttering walls. Then he pushed you back down, bottoming out again.

He grinned as you mewled.

“That’s a good cocksleeve.” He gradually increased the pace. “Sheathing my cocks so perfectly. So warm and wet and fucking tight.”

“You’ll take my cum so well, too.” Lloyd’s voice turned raspy, his own need growing urgent as he fucked you harder. “You’ll love it, mousekin. It will feel so burning hot and tingling.”

“When I fuck you on our stone patio, you’ll be warmed by the sun and by my cum filling your belly.”

He laughed when your body responded with an unexpected orgasm. It was building from the friction and his dirty words, but the way it suddenly burst was a screaming surprise, which you couldn’t fight off.

One more orgasm rocked your body (which finally got to twitch and jerk in its full capacity; well, as much of it as the naga’s tail wrapped around you allowed), before Lloyd shamelessly shouted out his own release and spilled inside you.

He held you still as his cocks throbbed, pumping spurt after spurt of cum. Your gasp transformed into an almost pained moan as you felt that burning hot sensation fill your orifices. Just like he mentioned, his cum was hot and carried that tingling, almost numbing feature his venom had.

You didn’t feel any paralysis, even partial, taking over. Yet your body sagged in most pleasant comfort; like when after a long, exhausting day you got to take a hot shower and then snuggle under fresh, clean sheets.

Though this was more lewd and soiled.

Your breath was heavy. Every few seconds your lips parted on a short moan as you felt that pulsing heat flooding your belly.

The tail around you loosened its grip, slowly weaving down. He let go of you fully, resting the heavy, lower half of his body on the pillows below. Still, you didn’t move from where you were straddling his hips. You didn’t even attempt to.

Because it felt too fucking good, how completely boneless and brain-dead you were.

“Good girl, mousekin.” Lloyd praised as you braced your hands on his chest and leaned down to rest your cheek against his sternum.

You didn’t move your hips, keeping his cocks nestled in your pussy and ass.

“What a perfect, sweet cocksleeve,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around your back and simply holding your spent body to him. Tightly, just as you liked.

“Don’t worry,” he kissed the top of your head, “we’ll get rid of those anxious thoughts of your silly human life when they resurface. I’ll fuck it right out of you. Until you fully settle in your role as my heated sheath. My little cockwarmer.”

#scaretale universe #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x female reader #naga!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen smut #chris evans smut #dark!lloyd hansen #viper's snare

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futureplayboibunnie · 1 year ago

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Heartless Pt.2

Mafia Boss! Miguel O’Hara x fem! reader

You and Miguel are married to each other…and it wasn’t because of love.

I heart slowburn x

You idled on where you could go for your honeymoon. At least Miguel gave you the twisted liberty of choosing where you could go, you didn't even care enough to want to go to nice places anymore. Why was he trying to drag this out with a honeymoon? Neither of you wanted it, yet Miguel always valued whatever his Consigliere had to say, you weren't going to take one of your few chances to argue with him over something so minuscule, you were saving your rage and confusion for the things that would matter in the future. Maybe somewhere warm, maybe Italy or France or something. You wondered what Mexico would be like since Miguel is half Mexican, you wondered if a part of his family were settled there too- you had to admit, you were curious if the apple fell far from the tree. You immediately dismissed this misplaced curiosity, you didn"t know Miguel well enough yet and he would probably have your head on a spike if you even mentioned it. Miguel's brother Gabriel came into the penthouse to pick up a few things and you told him that you wanted to go to Italy, Gabriel said he'd pass that along to Miguel's pilot.

It was getting dark out and Miguel said you'd fly out tonight but he still wasn't back. You hadn't seen Miguel since breakfast, you probably ruffled his feathers just by challenging him minutely. All you did today was get ready, did up your hair, splashed on some makeup, wear one of the dresses he gave you, and sat around. You were bored out of your mind, if this was what married life would be like, you would be very irritable and uncooperative indeed. You couldn't back out now, being bored was better than being dead.

You took this eventless time to wander around this penthouse, one of his capos told you he owned many but this was one of the nicer ones, it was quiet, serene. You spent this day with one of Miguel's lackeys stationed outside of the door and Little Miss Fuck Me Eyes, AKA the maid, but you actively avoided her.

It was a nice place to live in, expensive and clean, but it felt...empty, even with people in and outs mavbe it was just the lack of Miguel that was making you feel this way. Your heels clicked around and your eyes squinted towards Miguels study.

Should you...? You'd probably get a shot to the kneecap at least for meddling with Miguel's private affairs. Your fingers wandered to the handle tentatively, your curiosity outweighed your fear. It would be a stupid mistake, yes, but if Miguel wasn't going to be here now, he definitely wouldn't be around later, so you had time to snoop and pretend you weren't there.You opened the door and your eyes shot around, he was such a neat freak, but there were bits of paper strewn on his desk. His desk was dark oak, it was almost black, his desk chair was real black leather too, and the warm ambient lights offered some sort of atmosphere where he could work. You strolled softly behind his desk to look at the loose papers. The first one was marriage papers, the official documents to your betrothal, the other one was the NDA you signed and the last one was...an entire background check on you. You sifted through the paper and there were pictures of you walking around on the streets of New York, you clutched onto it, your eyes narrowing at the words you were reading on the page.

It had your bank details.

Your clothing measurements.

Your GPA.

The earnings of your parent's company.

Every ex-boyfriend you've ever had

The shops you go to.

Your favourite food.

Quite literally everything about you.

He ran a background check on you and had someone follow you around before you got engaged. You frowned at the paper. You set it down and sighed, taking a minute to consolidate what you had just read. Raking a hand through your hair, you walked around his desk and stole a glance at the walls- you couldnt believe you missed what he hung up on the walls. You inched forward to inspect the Renaissance paintings that covered the room, he even had a real Caravaggio, Lord knows how much it cost. Then you shifted towards a picture that wasn't a painting. It was of Miguel and his brother when they were about teenagers, embracing each other for the camera after a presumably long day of playing sports or something like that- but what really stunted you was that he was smiling. You don't think you've ever seen Miguel smile at all.

What you didn’t realise was that Miguel was at home, trying to find you in the penthouse.

He knew he was an hour late but he was held up by some important consultations. His brow raised when out of the corner of his eye, he found the door to his study open which was very odd- it was always left closed, he should probably invest in a lock. His fingers opened it up sottly and there he found you, snooping around his study like a second-rate degenerate criminal, but when he found you, you were gawking at the art on his walls. You were absorbed in the paintings, in a trance akin to that of a dream, he almost didn't want to disturb you, You were wearing a slinky black strapless dress that hugged you just right, it stopped just below the knee, your skin was glowing in the ambient light, the heels on your feet making you look taller, but not as tall as him. He liked that he had the choice to power over you.

He had the sentiment he always had when he looked at you: you looked nice.

“Enjoying your prying?” A low irritated voice husked behind you, you turned around and yelped in surprise, your chest heaved at the shock of seeing him right here, in a place you had no business being in. You were dead already. You winced when your eyes met his, he seemed amused and annoyed all at once as you gaped at him at the doorway. He was so….so…clean and smart but his sleeves were rolled up and a few buttons were undone, he ditched his tie as you saw it in his hand. You swallowed thickly.

“I'm fine.”You seemed to muster up, unsure of what else to say, You had to admit, you were a little afraid but you would rather die than show that. You weren't sure what was going to fall out of his mouth, probably a verbal tongue-lashing. “Caravaggio? His paintings are rather dark.” You couldn't help but comment on it, of course, he would have refined taste, not just in anything business-related but also something as cultural as art.

“Isn't that what's fascinating about it?” Miguel grumbled, hoping you wouldn't hear him. It was a bright, keen and astute observation. You pursed your lips and stayed silent whilst crossing your arms. “I don't want you in here.” He clipped coldly as he finally made his way to approach you, he stole a look towards his desk and found that a few papers had been messed with. So you know about it now.

“I don't want you having your capos stalk me.” You bit back shrewdly with challenging eyes and Miguel raised an eyebrow a little, just enough for you to notice from the corner of your eye. Touche, dick.

“I have to know how I'm working with.” He said so emotionless, so flatly. Like everything was about business, like neither of you was actual people with feelings.

“Well, I don't know who I'm working with, so you're not fighting fair.” You inched forward to him as you let out with a strained breath. Unfortunately for him, your statement made him think.

“You won't have to and you're right, I don't fight fair.”

“I told Gabriel I want to go to Italy, by the way.” You pivoted the subject around and Miguel was internally pleased that you did.

“Portofino is nice this time of year.” He commented briskly, again, reverting back as if you were mere acquaintances discussing destination spots and the fucking weather. It still left a bitter taste in his mouth.

You packed quickly and Miguel's driver took all your bags as you were about to head out of the front door. You weren't really paying attention as Little Miss Fuck Me Eyes was all over Miguel again, talking to him about what needed to be done the time both of you came back. You didn't know why you didn't like her, it was probably because she was so obvious about it, she was practically drooling over your husband as if you weren't here.

He was your husband. Whether you liked it or not. When she glanced over at you, you raked a tuft of hair behind your ear, your wedding ring on full display as you did so, she definitely noticed it with the way her face settled into a scowl.

It didn't take long until you were both in the back seat of Miguel's lamp-black Porsche, completely silent to the drive to the airstrip that Miguel owned. You blinked out the window, watching the bright city lights blur into colors against the dark of night, well-mannered in your straight posture and crossed legs. Miguel took a second to contemplate your presence, he almost hated how well-behaved you were. A small fraction of him wanted to see you get messy, preferably under him. He shook the defiant out of his head with a scowl, staring out of his own window in response. There was this thick tension between you, this sustaining of a non-existent friendship, trying to keep the conversation simple and polite between you and the man you barely knew anything about.

He did his research but your parents did their own- they didn't let you get involved even though you were the one they were marrying off.

It felt like forever in the car, Miguel escorted you out like a...gentleman. Watching you sway so confidently up the stairs to his private jet. He had a full view of your ass in that dress he liked, he didn't know how to feel about it so he just breathed deeply instead. Miguel followed you up, stepping into the cool, crystalized plush leather of the plane. Jesus, the amount of money he spent on this is probably uncountable, just thinking about it made your head ache. Miguel watched as you were awed at the interior, he had a slight feeling of contempt at your reaction, like you didn't think your lifestyle would change into this. He makes this kind of money every minute. He was a very wealthy man. He could afford 20 of these if he wanted to. You needed to stop being so surprised and get used to shit like this.

You thought that Miguel would probably want to sit the furthest away from you, he was distant like that but a flash of confusion covered your face when you found him sitting next to you as he did up his seatbelt.

So close.

The proximity was...different. So different.

“Good evening, Mr. O'hara.” Before you knew it a soft sensual voice in front of you pierced through your absent-minded thoughts. Oh, of course. Another insanely beautiful woman worked for him. She took out a single glass and pulled out a 100-year-old Merlot. Her perfectly tailored uniform clung to her so tightly it was like glue. Of course, he had a gorgeous flight attendant. Of course. It shouldn't bother you, but for some reason it did. “How was your night...with your friend here?” She glanced to the side at you, finally realizing that it wasn't just her and Miguel in the plane, so they couldn't exactly fuck like dogs. Her face scrunched into a condescending smile, looking you up and down. It was obvious she was defeated but she concealed it behind bright eyes. Why did every single woman who worked for him want to fuck him? It was honestly galling.

“She's my wife.” Miguel said thickly, his voice held a certain gravitas, and his tone was clipped, almost like he was annoyed. The revelation seemed to get to Little Miss Fuck Me Eyes Number 2, her face dropped and it honestly made you feel better. “And yes, we had a good night, thank you. Please get another glass for us please.” It was almost like he was politely laying into her.

“Of course, Mr O'Hara.” She smiled softly as she whisked away to get another glass.

Miguel wanted to roll his eyes. Yeah, yeah baby, keep dreaming he wanted to say. He really didn't like it when people gawked at him, especially the women who worked for him. It wasn't him who employed all these objectively beautiful women, it was Gabriel and he was extremely biased. He doesn't fuck his staff. Well, he can't because he's a married man. Married to you. A beautiful woman who he just can't figure out. Even though, he had all the info he could get about you...the way you talked to him, and the way you acted around him was confusing. You were so puzzling and he wanted to uncover the secrets that you held, how messy you could actually get behind this complacent good girl agenda.

His eyes flickered to you and it was obvious you were lost in your own little world. He looked at your lap and noticed that you weren't wearing your seatbelt, before his mind could even check it, his hands reached out for your seatbelt.

You almost jumped into your seat when you realized where his hands were, he was leaning towards you, close enough where you could fully smell his deep and rich cologne. He did your seatbelt and without hesitation, tightened it harshly with one tug, you gasped softly at the unexpected action. Woah. His hands were...big.

“Make sure you don't die a day after your wedding day.” He muttered just above a whisper. You let out a gentle cough and resumed your 'respectable' position, pretending like it didn't affect you whatsoever.

Miguel wanted you to be affected by him, maybe so he could intimidate you. But after just a short few days together and many moments of where you should be intimidated by him- you weren't. It was as refreshing as it was unsettling. He could have you affected by him in another way…maybe sexual tension would do the trick in breaking this facade you had up... He contemplated the idea but then ultimately rejected it as quickly as it came.

He can't fraternize with you.

This was merely a business transaction.

He wanted this as clean as possible.

No feelings. No fucking up.

He would never get involved. He won't do it.

He’s done too much to stop now.

taglist (giggles): @deputy-videogamer @aisyakirmann

#spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara angst #miguel o’hara smut #miguel ohara #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara

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hedgehog-moss · 2 months ago

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hello & good morning/afternoon/night! feel free to ignore this ask if you don't want to or don't know how to answer. i have been following your blog for years now, i think, and i have been accompaning your life through the pictures you post. i always had similar dreams of living in a farm or just in a more "secluded" place in general - hiddem away from big cities, i mean, closest place being a small town or even village, you know - and though i have lived alone for 2 years now i have a lot of fears of living by myself in ambient where there is relatively less people (even if there are neighbors not that far away). yknow, classic fears, of being robbed, my house being broken into, etc etc. once again i know it's a different world and the probability of something like this happening is actually higher in places with a bigger populational number, but have you ever had experiences like this? have you ever felt a similar fear? i'm trying to find out if this is something i really want.

Hi ! I love that I read your message last week right after I fondly reminisced about hearing murder screams in my woods at night. I've been thinking about it and I think regardless of what statistics say, some people feel safer surrounded by people in a town while others feel safer in more secluded places—I mean there's probably a personal temperament aspect to this... I've always loved going out for walks in the middle of the night but I couldn't fully relax doing that in cities, while here I find it so relaxing. It's so dark and quiet it feels like walking at the bottom of the ocean <3 It's the closest I can get to the peaceful life of the sea cucumber. And since I'm alone in this forest and there's no one for several km around I feel like nothing bad can happen to me. But I have city friends who would never consider going for a walk with me in the woods at night.

Can't recommend having a medium-to-large dog enough! Despite his debonair manner Pandolf is a good guard dog—one time that I got to test this was when someone parked their car on the side of the road maybe 300m from my house, and stayed there for almost a week. It wasn't a camper van, just a normal car, and every time I went to see it during the day it was empty, but I saw lights in there at night. I didn't like it at all! Why park here in the middle of nowhere. Near my house. This isn't a convenient spot to fish or anything, so where are you all day...? I remember the night I noticed the light in the car from my window, and I sat in my bed like, okay, someone's over there, but even if he gets to my door I have 2 other ways to get out of the house, my nearest neighbours are like 40min away by foot through the woods, I know my woods better than this guy, I'll be fine.

It's the only time that I recall feeling a bit antsy at night—and Pandolf was very alert as a result, he could tell I was nervous and when I went to close the chicken coop in the evenings he went patrolling all over the place in a way he doesn't usually do. I have a natural talent for not doing anything about problems and hoping they'll go away on their own, but after a few days I eventually told a distant neighbour about this weird car, and he came the next evening to talk to this person—but the car left that same day. And when my neighbour came to tell me he hadn't found the car, it was already dark and he parked his car in front of my house and at first Pandolf refused to let him get out. Even though he knows this neighbour and the guy had half-opened his door and was like "Hey Pandolf it's me!", Pan just stood there growling continuously like Cujo. It was good to see that although he's a really friendly dog, if I'm freaked out he can get quite intimidating.

Other than that one weird car story I've never really felt scared being here alone at night, and I didn't worry about that before moving here either, I was impatient to go on nighttime walks in the woods, rather! But having neighbours I'm on friendly terms with that I can call for help if needed, and whose house I can reach by foot, is reassuring; so I think mostly it's a matter of finding the degree of seclusion you're comfortable with. There are all sorts of gradations between living in a big city and living like the first Desert Father :) Is there any way you could try spending some time alone in a more remote area for temporary stays, like holidays, to see if you get used to it and come to appreciate it, or if you feel safer in more populated places?

#ask

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animeredhead101 · 5 months ago

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Dad Hood DP x DC Crossover

Completed

The Devil Wore a T-Shirt by DisillusionedDanny :

After a one-night stand, Danny finds himself pregnant with Red Hood's kid. Now he finds himself as a dad to a small child with an important decision to make. Does he tell Red Hood he has a child? Or does Danny raise the kid by himself? Word Count: 24,778 Completed

Nothing But The Dead And Dying (back in my little town) by Umei_no_Mai :

Dan has just been rescued and is feeling a bit shorter than usual. Jason Todd has just been petitioned like he's a feudal warlord, which has never happened before but he could maybe get used to. They can probably make this work so long as Batman doesn't stick his nose in. Yeah, like that'll happen. Word Count: 123,925 Completed

my boy, my son by DisillusionedDanny :

In desperate need of a vacation, Danny has Clockwork turn him into a five year old so that he can have the childhood he never got. Soon, five year old Danny finds himself running wild in Gotham only to be kidnapped by some weird teenager in a costume who decides that Danny is going to be his son. What's Danny to do but accept this new weird guy as his new dad and become a super cool crime fighting vigilante with his new adopted family who have no clue he's a two thousand year old ghost king? Word Count: 18,210

Dad Hood by JaxinKH :

After a wish gone wrong, Danny has reverted to a child and sent to Gotham. Jason doesn't know how the kid ended up in his appartement, but he is now stuck looking after him. How hard could it be?

Word Count: 18,236

On-going

It's Not Sugar by ConspiracyCrows :

Ellie is destabilized and nearly killed by Vlad while trying to make another, "better", clone of Danny. In order to stabilize her she was de-aged to about 7, and now has chronic issues balancing her ecto the same way a type one diabetic has issues balancing blood sugars. In fact that's the cover story the pair use when Danny enrolls Ellie at Gotham Academy. The one favor he will allow Vlad to do for them. While Vlad seems to have finally come to his senses about Ellie, Danny won't let him anywhere near her ever again. Which is why they moved to Gotham in the first place, Vlad won't step foot there. It also helps that Lady Gotham is more than happy to have the Realms' Ambassador to the Living in her streets. They settle into Crime Alley, and Danny may or may not have forgotten to introduce himself to the Haunt owner, assuming Gotham would handle the niceties as he gets Ellie settled, and handles the pressing issues of the negotiations between the city, the realms, and those denizens of both who want or need one thing or other. Word Count: 23,052 On-going

Imprint by Hashtag_DriveBy :

He screwed his eyes shut, held his breath, desperately wished that he was back in his safehouse, alone and blissfully unaware. But the weight in his hands remained, and when he opened his eyes, it was to the bean-shaped 'fuck you' the Lazarus Pit had kindly bestowed upon him, arms and legs folded up against his front beneath off-white muslin while tiny lips smacked softly.

What the fuck.

What the hell was Jason supposed to do now?

Word Count: 119,791 On-going

If you find a vigilante in the dumpster by lunamugetsu :

The plan was simple, Jazz and her now de aged brother would go lay low in Gotham, act as a mother-son duo. Wait as Danny heals up by absorbing the ambient ectoplasm leaking from the city and Vlad gives the green light that he has a safe place they could stay. Plus with the blessing from the Ghost of Gotham and knowing that even the GIW wouldn't dare to encroach on Batman's territory, it was a pretty safe plan. That was until a certain vigilante just keeps on finding himself in their dumpster. / / It was a normal night of patrol for Jason. Beating up a bunch of criminals. Shooting them with bullets (they're rubber bullets Bruce! Calm down!) Get stabbed by them. Pass out from blood loss in the place he was taking refuge in Wake up in an apartment, his wounds bandaged and all. And to a black haired blue eyed kid staring at him. "I found you in the garbage!" Word Count: 120,002 On-going

Please Don't Take My Sunshine Away by FearlessHades :

After escaping from the GIW, Danny crash lands in Gotham. He's six years old, his entire life has burned behind him, and one of the Gotham vigilantes is running around with a stifled Core. What's a kid to do?

A Jason Adopts Danny fic featuring De-aged!Danny, family feels, and Jason's Grand Master Plan going completely off the rails.

Word Count: 53,233

The (Un)Living Weapon by Anonymous :

They had only planned on raiding the facility. They hadn't expected it to be barren. Apart from a kid, chained and muzzled. With eyes of Lazarus water. Jason didn't intend on getting a kid out of the whole ordeal, but unlike Bruce, he is ready to kill to keep him safe. Word Count: 47,483

Mending a Family by Katelover98 :

Sequel to Creating a Family.

I decided to write this after getting such a good response on that fic. However, I wrote this new fic here instead of updating it in case anyone liked the open ending and didn't want more to spoil the way I left it. There won't be an overarching plot but a bunch of one-shots that show how Jason went from no family to a family that would kill and die for him.

This fic won't have a set schedule so I'll update when inspiration hits. That means one week I might update daily and other times it might take a while. It'll depend

Fair warning, I don't know much about Roy Harper, but I've done a bit of research so when he shows up, hopefully, he'll be well-written.

Word Count: 45,852

Visitant Lights by Shynnohwen for Cielle_Noire, AcesAndSpades72, foldingfacets :

After a run in with Vlad that left the entire Fenton family turned into little children and a subsequential kidnapping by what they think are ninjas the Fenton family escape to Gotham to lay low and figure out how to reverse their ages as Sam and Tucker help where they can, growing sense of dread as months goes by and they are no closer to fixing this. Danny, frustrated at lack of progress and tiny body, runs into the Red Hood while stealing his wheel to replace the one he broke. This results in Jason and the Pit Madness co-parenting, Dick mistaken for a stripper, Tucker unknowingly becoming Oracle's archnemesis, Sam believing the local coffee addict is a serial killer, Damian taking on an apprentice, various members of the Rogue Gallery becoming self-appointed uncles and aunts, Amity Park becoming a hellhole full of supernaturally powerful people trying to survive, Damian trying to get a certain Fenton adopted into his family, and Joker developing severe and crippling phasmophobia. And that's just the tip of the iceberg. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Now has a TV Tropes! https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Fanfic/VisitantLights Word Count : 82,890

#jason todd #danny phantom #ao3 fanfic #crossover fanfiction #danny fenton #dc universe #dp x dc crossover #red hood #dad hood

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aayakashii · 21 days ago

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Wait, since we were robbed of having an episode about Samhain and seeing them in a festival, let's indulge in headcanonery (?) rn

Inspired by @rottenzombrainz 's slice of life headcanons, I'm giving a huge kiss to your brain rn

What each house would prepare for a school festival – headcanons

Frostheim

Hhhmm, maybe they'd be responsible for the play! Frostheimers are the ones that are super cultured and fancy since they're all rich lol I think they'd have all the resources needed to buy beautiful costumes and props. Maybe they'd do some Shakespeare play like Hamlet, but I wouldn't put it past them to do a musical too, like The Phantom of the Opera, complete with a huge chandelier falling down :0

Vagastrom

They would be the ones responsible for the games!! All of those festival games like card flipping (menko), shooting, throwing, ball scooping, fishing yoyo, garapon (lottery machine) and other puzzles. I think Vagastrom students would have a lot of fun challenging festival-goers even if it's not a physical challenge lol. The whole place would be filled with the sounds of people having fun! Btw, Sho would probably open a little booth with snacks ofc hehe

Jabberwock

A safari exhibition, obviously. What better moment to sell tickets for a tour around the dorm than during a festival? I'm pretty sure they would go all out, though. Maybe the tour could be done at night (if the anomalies agree lol) and everything could be lit by fairylights. The caves would have ambient music, there would be wind chimes everywhere, and bubbles would be flying around to reflect the lights (courtesy of Towa). It'd be like a true fantasy experience for anyone who decided to participate!

Sinostra

They would run a cafe for sure. Romeo would NOT pass up on the opportunity to make some money. Also, it's not like Sinostra would care that much about the festival, so it'd be best to participate by doing something they're already used to. Since a lot of people would flock to Darkwick due to the festival, including kids, they wouldn't be able to sell booze nor anything of the sort, but they'd have great food, including a little bit of Italian cuisine – pizza, carbonara, lasagne, candied fruits, gelato, torrone, espresso... people would leave with the belly full and wallets empty.

Hotarubi

They would do plenty of presentations!! Odori, taiko, koto, shamisen – everything that's related to japanese traditional culture, they'd give a huuuuge show. A lot of people would flock to Hotarubi to watch Subaru give a little snippet of his abilities as a kabuki actor too, and it'd probably be one of the most visited dorms in the whole campus! I think they'd also give a few mini workshops of tea ceremony, ikebana, puppet theatre, and origami.

Obscuary

A huge, beautiful and extremely creepy haunted mansion/labyrinth!! Obscuary is literally the perfect place for a haunted attraction. The Victorian-esque visuals of the dorm would attract a lot of people who want to test their courage, especially with all the rumors about a real werewolf and a real vampire living in that place. The mansion would be eerily silent, just the sound of creaking wood and the whoosh of "ghosts" flying around to have people on their toes, so the jumpscares would be even more efficient.

Mortkranken

They would 1000000% do an interactive medical exhibition. The students could guide the visitors throughout a day in the life of a scientist/doctor! Showing them which instruments they use for surgery (even teaching how to suture wounds); which meds are useful for certain diseases; how to measure blood pressure and auscultate heart and lung sounds and so on and so forth... a little LARPing as a doctor for an afternoon hehe

#tokyo debunker #tokyo debunker headcanons #oh and btw if you're American #don't forget to vote #please remember that the US influence the entire world and those results won't affect just you #but EVERYONE in the world

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kanencrow · 1 month ago

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I love the way you write Lucy!!!!! Can I please request a fluff (with slight angst) found family platonic fic with Lucy where they meet in the wasteland and build a sibling-like bond?

Bond Over Blood - Lucy Maclean | Headcanon

Summary: What would a sibling-like relationship with Lucy Maclean look like after the two of you find each other on the surface?

Warnings: Swearing, Blood, Descriptions of Violence, Suturing Wounds, Talks of Death, Reader is Lowkey Kinda Awkward (same bro).

A/N: Awe hey, thanks Jamie! Sorry this one took so long to come out, but I hope you enjoy it! Definitely wrote this one following the original plot of the show, so spoilers incoming!

Word Count: 10000+

You met Lucy after getting into a physical altercation with a few Brotherhood of Steel soldiers, who seemed like they wanted nothing more than to lay their hands on anyone they could find. You just so happened to be one of those people, unfortunately, after you got nosy and fixed a loose wire in one of those suits of armor that they hid within for the sake of making themselves feel more powerful. You dabbled a bit in electronics, so you knew your way around anything that sparked or required some sort of technology in order for it to run, but instead of them being appreciative of what you did, they pummeled you, which left you unconscious and carrying some long-standing wounds.

Maybe you also killed one of them, and that was why they knocked you out, but that’s besides the point – you were just defending yourself. Really, the fact of the matter was that they hurt you, and you woke up in a world of pain that you had no choice but to live with until it decided to dissipate into nothing. So, your first few days of your road to recovery were spent wandering the barren wasteland that you grew up in, and by the time you were starting to develop an irreversible hatred towards the Brotherhood of Steel and everything they stood for, you simultaneously found a Super-Duper Mart in the middle of the desert.

It made you feel like you were hallucinating, almost.

Like you were seeing a mirage.

But, low and behold, the building was there, caked in sand and looking as dilapidated as every other landmark or point of interest you saw on the surface. And within that grocery store, you found Lucy, but not before stepping over – what you thought was – a dead body of a ghoul who clearly wanted to be a cowboy, considering the hat that laid beside him, and the fact that he was wearing a trench coat that had seen better days. But honestly, with the way he was wheezing and on the ground, unmoving, you thought he was turning feral, so you just stepped over him and continued forth.

Traversing through the seemingly abandoned building proved to be pretty… eventful.

The thumping of your boots against the floor added on as an ambient resonation, and the way they echoed throughout the air only seemed to signify the lack of life that resided within. You continued walking, even then, intent on finding something that you could stuff into the backpack that hung over your shoulders. All it carried inside was a box of medical supplies, a large bottle of purified water that you bought off of a merchant, a bag of Rad-Away, and five stimpacks that you – thankfully – hadn’t used yet.

Obviously, you were packed a little light.

After a while of walking, you eventually turned a corner and ambled down an aisle that consisted of freezers. Surprisingly, the lights were on, as though power still existed due to the function of a generator, and your curiosity only seemed to increase in response. At the same time, you felt a hint of trepidation hit you like a needle, and you tightened your grip on the pistol in your hands, as you lifted it up slightly, raring to shoot something if you needed to.

You had enough experience to know that anything could have been lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce when you least expected it to. There had been countless close calls that scraped by in your time of life, and so you knew better than to assume that places were completely empty of life. And, by the time you made it to the end of the hallway that was lined with the cold boxes, you were happy to have made the mental note, when you looked to your left, and abruptly slowed down to a halt, as you spotted the form of a woman in blue, who didn’t notice your presence while she tugged off a dead person's boot with a quiet grunt that managed to echo throughout the vicinity.

Well, okay, you weren’t expecting that.

Your lips faintly parted, and you made the executive decision to slowly walk towards her. You noticed the number ‘33’ on the back of her blue suit, and it wasn’t difficult to figure out that she was a vault dweller… unless she stole the outfit off of one. She rose up to her full height and clumsily shoved the boot onto her foot, and you continued to sneak towards her, as you tilted your head to the side and watched her curiously. You wondered how she had lost her original shoe in the first place, but you mainly wondered why someone from a vault would be roaming the upper world.

From what you knew, they had everything down underground, to the point where you were envious of their lifestyle. To willfully roam around the wasteland seemed like a stupid idea, but you digressed. You were far too focused on the array of dead bodies that lined the floor to truly ponder it, anyway. Ghouls and two humans, with only one standing. It was an odd sight, and one that made you intentionally clear your throat, with the intention of catching the mysterious woman’s attention.

You weren’t surprised when she jumped in reaction to the sound you made, and when she turned around, you were met with wide eyes and a face that had been kissed by the sun. You couldn’t see perfectly, with how far she was from you and how your optic nerve had been damaged from your previous incident, but from what you could gather, she seemed no worse for wear. You paused for a moment, as if to gauge what she was wanting to do in response to your presence, and you were immensely surprised, when she let out a seemingly relieved exhale at the sight of you.

“Oh, thank goodness,” she muttered, as you continued to hold your pistol tightly between your palms. You stared at her oddly, like she had two heads, but she was ignorant to your apprehension, when she stepped forward to try and lessen the distance. However, before she could get very far, you lifted your gun up and pointed it at her, which forced her to come to halt, as she raised her hands up quickly and parted her lips to yell out, “Please, don’t shoot!”

The intention you portrayed wasn’t one you were genuinely going to go through with, but only you knew that. You couldn’t have been too sure about people’s intentions, and so you slowly walked towards her, as your eyes watched her, like that of a hawk. You were silent, not feeling the need to speak, and a part of you wanted to keep it that way, just to add onto the mysterium, as you flickered your pupils across her body to scrutinize her. Her black hair was in a ponytail, with her shorter bangs framing her face – she was pretty, you couldn’t deny it, even with the remnants of crimson that dotted across her features like violent stars.

The white tank top that peeked out from the unzipped part of her blue suit had splatters of blood on it, too, and the left bicep of her outfit was torn, as if she had been cut there… or shot. Clearly, she had been through it – you weren’t an idiot. But still, you felt the need to take the precaution, before you eventually faltered in your hesitancy, and lowered your weapon to holster it back into the waistband of your pants.

At your sudden change in demeanor, the vault dweller visibly relaxed, and her arms dropped down from their raised position. In that moment, you noticed the discolored index finger that she had, and you mindlessly eyed it with curiosity, before she was speaking up, and forcing you to look back towards her again. “U-Uh, hi,” she greeted you, as though she were being interviewed, and you were the one who decided if she was going to be hired or not. “Thank you… for not shooting me.”

She slowly walked towards you when you didn’t respond immediately after her words, and you shifted in your stance uncomfortably, as her eyes studied you, instead of the other way around. Of course, her focus lingered on your face, more than anything, and your jaw clenched tightly in turn when her expression softened. You half-expected her to point it out, but she didn’t, and only shifted her subtle frown into a small smile, as she tried to portray warmth and friendliness, which felt entirely unwarranted and unfamiliar. “I’m Lucy.”

You stared at the woman named Lucy for a long, silent moment, with nothing other than your bruised features to showcase your emotions. You were certain you looked absolutely dreadful, with the way her eyes continued to flit across your face, and although you wanted to snap at her, there was a hint of genuine concern behind the action, while you gazed at her mutely. And honestly, that was all you could do, because you weren’t sure what to say, if you were being honest with yourself.

Should you have introduced yourself back? Reached a hand out for her to shake, with a smile to truly butter her up? What were formalities nowadays that didn’t consist of not shooting someone? All you were able to do in the end of your mental battle was swallow the lump of dryness in your throat, before you nodded at her gently and pressed your lips together, giving her the simplest greeting you could muster. “Hi.”

Her expression immediately shifted into one of brightness, when she grinned softly at you, showing off her teeth, which were whiter than most dwellers of the surface. They cared more about survival than basic hygiene, which wasn’t something you could have related to, ever. “Hi,” she suddenly cooed out, as if she were talking to a scared animal. It wasn’t far off from how you had been feeling the past few days, but you shockingly weren’t as fearful now, in comparison to moments earlier. Maybe it was her natural charm, or the fact that she didn’t want to beat the shit out of you.

Either way, her behavior was welcomed, and you felt the corners of your lips quirk up in reaction to her kindness, which caused her to step closer to you, the moment she spotted your comfortability. “I take it you’re not a part of this… whatever this is?” she questioned you, as she glanced away from you to look around the vicinity of the grocery mart. You shook your head in reply when her attention fell back onto you, and she relaxed even more – if that was possible – as she nodded. “Okay… good.”

When you didn’t reply, and instead moved your eyes down to the ripped hole on Lucy’s left bicep, you faintly quirked your lip, before you lifted your hand up and lazily gestured towards her arm. “You’re hurt,” you uttered, as if she herself hadn’t known of her own injury, and in response, she immediately glanced down to her arm and clicked her tongue, nodding her head in agreement to your statement. You knew it was obvious – that she probably was already aware, but you didn’t know what else to say other than that, which seemed to work more in your favor than anything else, when you shifted in your spot once more and fidgeted with your fingers. “I can help… with your arm,” you stated simply, with a quiet voice that she wouldn’t have heard, if the grocery store wasn’t so quiet.

“Oh,” Lucy hummed softly, as her lips parted in subtle shock towards your bluntness. She looked at you thoughtfully for a moment, before she glanced down at her wound again and lifted a palm up to set it over the hole in her suit, wincing faintly, “I mean – can you?” she asked, as if the question was one that was going to inconvenience you. However, you immediately nodded your head, holding back from creasing your brow, due to the painful wounds that sat across your face.

Even then, she appreciated your willingness, not caring about your micro-expressions like you did, and when she chuckled softly in relief, you stepped past her and walked towards the sofas, which caused her to immediately turn around and follow you, as she quickened her pace slightly, just to make it to your side again. “T-Thank you, by the way,” she called gently, “it’s… been a rough week.”

That was something you could relate with her on.

“You and me both,” you mumbled, as you let out a humorless scoff and shrugged off your backpack. You swung it around and tossed it onto the sofa with a lack of care, as Lucy came up beside you and slowly settled down on the cushion. It didn’t take long for her to lift her chin and stare up at you shortly after, but you were none the wiser, as you continued standing and unzipped your bag.

You sifted through the confines of the practically empty sack, which allowed you to easily find your purified water bottle, as well as the medical kit that you – luckily – hadn’t had stolen from you yet. You set the two items off to the side without much more than a simple glance, and the vault dweller continued to gaze at you with internalized curiosity, as you gripped the top strap of your carryall and dropped it on the floor, in front of the couch. It made a quiet thump in turn, but you ignored the sound entirely, while you sat down on the plush surface and pulled your supplies into your lap.

There was a particular coordination to how you moved, Lucy noticed. You were precise and careful – and quiet – and it only urged her on to try and make conversation. “So… what’s your name?” You reminded her of her brother Norm: silent and observant. Though, you didn’t really look anything like him, she thought. You carried an aura of distrust and aloofness that made her want to pick you apart – in a good way, but she had no idea on how she could have done that without making it seem as though she were interrogating you.

Especially in regards to the question that she wanted to ask, after you introduced yourself. She wasn’t ignorant to your face and the way it looked. How around your right eye was swollen and the whites of it were red due to popped blood vessels that were entirely benign. The rest of your face was just as bruised, and you carried a small gash, as well as numerous cuts on it, which only furthered her wonder on what you had been up to, before you encountered her.

Still, even with her heavy curiosity, she gave you all the time in the world to answer, as you unclipped the medical box and opened it up to expose the numerous supplies within it. “Y/n,” you eventually replied, keeping your verbiage simple and short, while you kept your eyes entirely focused on the assortment of items that sat on your thighs.

You immediately spotted what you were looking for – a needle and a thread, as well as peroxide to help disinfect the cut, and when you grabbed them, you set the white kit to the side and scooted closer to her, as you lifted your head and turned it towards her to finally meet her irises. “My name is Y/n,” you repeated quietly, assuming that she hadn’t heard you the first time, when she immediately lifted her brow and shifted her features into an expression of sudden understanding.

“Oh,” Lucy stated, “Y/n” She nodded her head, as her eyebrows furrowed in thought, and she stared at you as though you were something immensely interesting. “That’s a nice name,” she admitted, before giving you a small smile. “I like it… it suits you.” The softness in her green eyes was apparent, and you found yourself unconsciously shying away from her kindness, when you flickered your pupils down to stare at her bicep and blindly uncapped the hydrogen peroxide that you had mindlessly pulled into your lap.

She was awfully earnest, with the way you could feel her staring at you, even after you sheepishly avoided her gaze and focused on sewing up the wound on her arm. Her personality was a complete one-eighty from what you had dealt with when it came to the people you met throughout your time on the surface. You didn’t know how to react to her genuineness, and she seemed to gather that, while you poured the transparent liquid onto a cotton ball and tensed your jaw awkwardly, not knowing how to continue the conversation.

Naturally, she took the reins, as she allowed you to slip your hand underneath her arm and angle it up slightly, just so that you had a better view of her gash. Your touch was gentle – overly careful, and she couldn’t help the small smile that creeped up onto her lips, as she watched you tentatively dab away the blood that surrounded it. You treated her delicately. It was a welcomed contrast to how she had been treated for the past week, and with the way your features were bruised and battered, it wasn’t difficult to understand that you might have needed some much desired tenderness and care.

Though the fact that you were more focused on her, rather than the wellbeing of yourself, said a lot. A part of her wanted to pipe up and ask you to accompany her on the journey she had set herself on, but she had a feeling that would have been too abrupt, too soon. Especially for someone like you. Someone who seemed easily dissuaded, like that of a wounded, scared wolf. Your demeanor only encouraged her to speak up, but she made an intentional effort to keep her voice soft, so as to not mess up your precise movements.

“So, what brings you around here?” Lucy asked, as she tilted her head to the side and glanced down to gaze at your fingers. They worked to dab more of the peroxide into the actual wound, and with how gentle you were being, it didn’t hurt. It made her heart swell, and all that did was put into perspective how much she missed the helpful souls that didn’t want to kidnap her or kill her... or torture her.

“Do you… live close?” Her additional question seemed to snap you out of your concentrated state, which forced you to lift your eyes away from her injury and meet her own gaze. The blood-red white of your right iris really made you look terrible, and as much as she wanted to do the same for you as you were doing for her, she resisted from reaching out and checking you over, knowing that would have been weird or unwelcome. Especially from a stranger.

“I don’t live anywhere,” you admitted quietly, keeping your eyes connected with her own for a moment longer, before you eventually shifted your focus back down to your lap, and grabbed a threaded needle to suture her gash. While you raised your hand back up and lined up the first point you were going to stick the slim metal piece into, you parted your lips slightly and added on, just to try and keep her attention away from what you were about to do. You had a feeling it wasn’t going to work as well as you hoped, but you made the effort anyway, as you pushed into her skin and spoke at the same time.

“I came from Filly after an… encounter… and just so happened to stumble across this place,” you explained, while she grunted softly and winced at your action. The pin-prick pain that seemed to bloom throughout her gash was enough to make her squirm, but she tried to stay as still as possible, while she listened to your words with genuine interest. “I didn’t expect to find anyone inside, though.”

Lucy bit her lower lips as the thin thread attached to the needle dragged through the small hole it created, slowly closing up the bottom of the wound. All the while, the memory of the man that brought her to the grocery store filled her mind, and she couldn’t help but spring onto your earlier statement, even while she winced at your tendful actions to her injury. “Did you see a… someone, before you walked in?” she questioned, wondering if that ghoul still lingered around the store, mindlessly waiting for whatever it was he requested in exchange for her.

The same feeling of bitterness filled her chest at the reminder of him, and when she turned her head to gauge your reaction, you nodded in reply to her inquiry, which forced a disgruntled scoff to slip from her mouth, while you pushed the needle back into her skin, causing her to flinch subtly. “You know, that… that creature… he brought me here,” she clarified, providing you with information that managed to allow you to mentally put two and two together. “He did not treat me very courteously.”

“Really?” you replied, attempting to flit your attention towards two things at once, as you progressed higher up the length of her gash. You glanced up momentarily to meet her eyes, and when she nodded her head, you faintly furrowed your brow and quirked your lip thoughtfully, “He was on the ground when I walked inside of the mart,” you admitted softly, before you flickered your focus back down towards your task at hand. In the back of your mind, you couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for not having done anything in that moment, but he was a ghoul, you thought.

You were never able to tell when they were shifting into a feral one or not, and you definitely didn’t want to be on the receiving end of their aggression, if the former possibility actually came true. “He was still alive… just struggling to breathe, it seemed.” Maybe it was a good thing you didn’t do anything to aid him, however, considering what you were being told by the vault dweller. You trusted her, far more than a decaying, tough-skinned, radiated human.

“He was not nice,” Lucy stated, nodding her head, as if she agreed with your decision, “when I pointed out that he wasn’t following the Golden Rule, he put a leash around my neck and he made me drink from puddle water that I’m pretty sure was just some kind of animal pee.” Your features flinched without you even realizing, and you winced when a subtle throb coursed through your nose in turn. You immediately stopped your movements on her arm, and she seemed to take notice of your action, when she looked at you and met your eyes.

You internally took a moment to let the pain you felt pass, and she eventually continued when you only portrayed that you were fully listening to what she had to say. “And I thought I was here to be a sex slave, but – turns out – this-this robot wanted to harvest my organs instead, and I-I don’t know which one is worse!” Her exclamation caused her voice to raise in pitch, still underlined with the raspiness that it naturally exuded, and as much as you didn’t want to, you found yourself growing concerned in response to all of the information she gave you.

“You drank radiated water,” you stated, as you gazed at her intently, “that’s not good.” You glanced back down towards her halfway sewn gash, and when you continued threading the needle through her skin, she let out a quiet groan, as she stared at you quizzically in response to your words. You could feel her eyes burning into your head, and without much convincing, you expounded, as you licked your lips and parted them to speak transparently. “Up in the wasteland, it’s purified water, or nothing,” you told her, as you nodded towards the large bottle of liquid that sat between the two of you.

“If you drink anything that isn’t purified, then you’ll need Rad-Away, or Rad-X, which allows you to become somewhat immune to the radiation of the surface.” You lifted the thin, curved metal pin and pushed it through her flesh again, making her hiss, while you continued. “Are you feeling okay? Usually when you drink radiated water, you start to feel lightheaded and nauseous,” you clarified, “they’re the two most common symptoms.”

Lucy stared at you as though you might have been the smartest human being she had ever met, with parted lips and a subtle look of shock that lined her features. You inevitably finished sewing her gash closed shortly after your entire rundown, and as you leaned back slightly to grab a cotton roll of thin bandaging, you lifted your eyes up to meet her hazel ones, which forced her to snap out of her surprised stupor. “Oh, um… no,” she eventually replied, before she blinked and sent you a small smile, “I… I think I’m fine. I don’t feel any of the side effects you’re telling me.”

You nodded in acknowledgement, and you ended the topic of conversation at that, as you wrapped the start of the cloth underneath her bicep, which caused your fingers to graze against her skin with a softness that made goosebumps form on her arms. You were none the wiser to the effects your touch had on her, but she was, as she swallowed the thick lump that had suddenly formed in her throat, and promptly spoke up, with the intention of ignoring whatever it was that she was feeling. “So, um… what do you have planned after all of this?”

You coiled the bandaging around Lucy’s arm without much difficulty, and as you taped the tail end of the cloth to stay wrapped around her bicep, you let go of her entirely, before you lifted your eyes up to meet her own and shrugged. “I don’t have anything planned,” you admitted, not feeling the need to lie, as you reached down and grabbed a small rag from the medical kit, as well as the bottle of purified water that pressed against your leg.

“Not when it comes to a destination, at least,” you added on, as you silently handed her the two items and gestured towards your face with the silent statement of ‘clean yourself up.’ With a thankful smile, she grabbed the supplies out of your grasp, while you watched her studiously and brought your hands back to your lap to fidget with your fingers. “What about you?” you questioned her, as you tilted your head to the side quizzically, “What’s a vault dweller like you doing out here in the wasteland?”

“Oh,” Lucy uttered, as she wetted the rag you had given her with the water, and brought it up to her face to blindly wipe away the splattered dots of blood that riddled her sun-kissed features. “I’m actually looking for my dad,” she explained, which caused a glint of surprise to shine in your eyes, as they widened slightly in confusion. “A group of raiders, well, raided our vault, you see,” she told you softly, as she dabbed at her upper lip, “this woman named Lee Moldaver kidnapped my father, and I couldn’t just stand by and let her steal my dad away from me.” She shrugged her shoulders and dropped the damp cloth down to her lap, as she turned her head to look at you, “Someone had to do something, so… here I am.”

You slowly nodded your head and pressed your lips together thoughtfully, “That’s… really admirable.” Lucy grinned at you in reply, and you felt your cheeks heat up, now that your full attention was on her. You couldn’t deny that she had a certain charm to the way she carried herself. Maybe that was natural for a vault dweller, but it was something you greatly lacked, when you shied away from her gaze again and promptly pushed yourself up to your feet.

Immediately, her curiosity grew, and she creased her brow while she watched you close your medical box and shove it back into the confines of your bag. She still held the damp – now slightly bloody – rag in her hand, and when you reached down to grab the water bottle and dropped it back into the emptiness that was your backpack, you spoke up. “Good luck to you, Lucy.” You zipped your rucksack up, as you sent her a suppressed nod, “Stay safe out there.”

When you gripped the strap and hoisted it onto your shoulder, you winced painfully, while Lucy internally panicked and shot up from her spot on the couch to stop you. “Well, wait!” She reached her hand out and grasped your left wrist, halting you from going anywhere, and with the way her fingers twined around your joint with a tightness that felt familiar, you immediately tensed in response, as you snapped your head towards her and stared at her warily, almost like you were afraid she was going to attack you.

The events of what happened not even a full week ago still weighed heavily on your conscience, and although she wasn’t aware of it, she gathered your uncomfortability immediately, and suddenly let go of you, as she parted her lips and stammered to say something. “Listen, I… I know we just met and all, but… why don’t you come with me?” she asked, looking at you hopefully, as her eyebrows rose, “I could use someone who knows their way around this wasteland and… I think you’d be good company, Y/n.”

That was the last thing you were expecting her to say, but you couldn’t ignore the way it made your stomach flutter, especially with the way she stared at you, with that same genuine softness she gave you earlier. You didn’t have anywhere you intended to go, and it wasn’t as though you had anything better to do, but nonetheless, you still hesitated to say yes, even if you wanted to deep down. You mindlessly grasped your wrist that she had grabbed, and you glanced down in thought at her proposal, while your thumb rubbed over the bone of your joint, and you bit the inside of your cheek. “I… don’t know…” you trailed off, and at your verbal uncertainty, she slowly stepped closer to you, and rested her palm on your upper arm, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Come on,” she uttered, looking at you pleadingly, “there’s no catch here.” Her own thumb rubbed the fabric that sat over your bicep, and although you weren’t sure, her physical touch still managed to somehow slightly sway you. It shouldn’t have, you thought, but it felt nice to experience a gentleness that you hadn’t felt in a long while. So, maybe you wanted to agree, just so you could gain more of the tender expressions she sent your way.

Maybe you also liked the idea of being around her, because she acted as a breath of fresh air, in comparison to all of the other companions you had journeyed with in the past. Maybe it was her eyes, too, and the way she gazed into your own with a silent promise that she wasn’t going to betray your trust, or hurt you for no reason. It was as though she were looking through a window that allowed her to see your soul for what it was. It was like she just knew what had happened with you, just from a vague explanation and the apparent bruises and wounds that sat on your face.

It was difficult, battling with your mind and attempting to decide on whether or not you should have accompanied her, but all she had done throughout the time you patched her up and spoke to her was prove to you that she was trustworthy, and didn’t have an evil bone in her body. She wasn’t a Brotherhood of Steel soldier, but a simple vault dweller, who clearly carried more morality than any of the survivors on the surface who labeled themselves a saint. And you had met a lot who did, which only managed to showcase whose brain had been consumed by radiation, and those who hadn’t.

“Okay,” you eventually muttered, as you rubbed your thumb over the bone of your wrist again, still somewhat nervous. And when her hopeful expression shifted into one of relief at your simple agreement, you felt a weight slip off of your shoulders, while the corners of your lips quirked up faintly, and you smiled small. “I’ll come with you.”

You didn’t regret your choice to follow her, that was for sure.

And sure, at first, you couldn’t lie and say that you weren’t somewhat distrusting, even if she had made herself seem like a decent individual who didn’t want to do you any harm. But you couldn’t really help it. Especially when you and her stumbled across a Brotherhood of Steel soldier named Maximus, who you did not like at all whatsoever. He was stuck in a power armor suit, and you tried your damndest to get her to leave him, but she said something about the Golden Rule to you, before ultimately helping the guy out.

You definitely didn’t appreciate that.

But you lived with it, even if you loathed the Brotherhood of Steel with every fiber of your being. At least you were with Lucy, and at least you knew she wasn’t going to hurt you. You couldn’t be so sure about Maximus, so you kept your distance as much as humanly possible, even after he mentioned that he wasn’t going to harm you. However, that only went so far. Because all your past experiences made the process of instilling your trust into new people immensely difficult, so it made total sense for you to act overly uncertain towards everyone you met.

But after traveling with Lucy for some time, you certainly started to come around.

You still weren’t so sure about Maximus, though.

Surprisingly, he kind of understood.

Lucy’s kind-hearted nature and big-sister mentality in the way she addressed you was something you found comfort in, so of course it became easy to trust her. Like in how she tended to your lingering wounds, not even a week after you first started roaming the surface with her. Or how she let you stay with her in her personally picked room when that whole… cult in a vault thing happened. That was after you all encountered a duo of Fiends who used rotting teeth as bullets, which – granted – you knew already, but you had never been shot by one, so that… that was pretty interesting.

Naturally, it forced you to stay at that vault for a day or so, before you, Lucy, and Maximus hightailed it out of there. Cults were certainly not your thing, or anyone’s for that matter. Definitely not when the person they worshipped was the same woman your newfound friend had been searching for. And by the time the three of you left the place, she told you about her secondary search for a severed head, which also didn’t really surprise you, considering you had taken a job once upon a time that consisted of transferring someone’s hand from point A to point B.

Unsurprisingly, Maximus was also looking for the head.

Either way, Lucy was shocked when you simply nodded along and agreed to tag along with her on her mission. It only made her more curious about you, wanting to know all the things you’ve gotten up to on the surface, and considering the long journey the two of you had ahead of you, you didn’t find yourself hesitating to talk. For the first time, you were the one who carried the conversation, while she listened intently and with a small, interested smile on her face. Maximus was too busy scouting ahead to listen in at the time, but honestly, you preferred it like that.

“Fought a deathclaw once…”

A sudden gasp escaped Lucy at your words, and you felt the corner of your lip curling up into an amused smirk, as you turned your head towards her and met her hazel eyes, which shined with shock and awe. “What? No way,” she disagreed, stuck in a bout of disbelief, but you could only nod, silently telling her that you were – in fact – telling the truth. It only made her let out a baffled scoff, before she creased a brow in confusion, “How are you still alive? I’ve read about deathclaws,” she stated, “and nine times out of ten, when you find one, they’re the last thing you see.”

“Guess I’m the lucky one, then,” you replied, your tone conveying a subtle smugness to it, as you shrugged your shoulders and mindlessly lifted your hand to rest it against the handle of your gun that sat in your holster. “I can thank the fragmentation mines that I had in my pack for getting me out of that situation,” you added on, chuckling quietly, “because if I didn’t have those, that thing would’ve torn me apart.”

“Uh, yeah,” Lucy replied, as if she were saying ‘duh’ with the tone she used. “When you said you had ‘many stories’ about your time on the surface, I was not expecting you to bring up a time you almost got mauled by a deathclaw.”

Your close calls with deathclaws, mirelurks, or any of the other dangerous creatures that lurked on the surface weren’t the only stories you told to Lucy, either. One night, at a fire, while Maximus slept soundly on the ground, you were stuck having to recall the time you almost died due to your own gullible nature, when you were younger. At the age of fifteen, you found yourself getting into ties with a group of bandits that lacked a moral compass, much to the vault dwellers dismay. Explaining to her that you had to kill innocent people when you were nothing but a kid was a harder feat than you thought.

“Wasn’t like I wanted to do it,” you quietly admitted, as you stared down at the purified water that sat in a beer bottle that you cut in half to act as a cup. You held it tightly in your hand, twisting your wrist slightly to force the liquid to swirl around smoothly within the clear glass. You made sure to completely avoid Lucy’s stare from across the fire, and she could easily gather that, when her features faintly scrunched up in sympathy. “I was just a kid.”

“That’s…” Lucy’s voice trailed off the moment she tried to speak, and you immediately breathed in deeply, as if to brace yourself, while you lifted your chin and looked up to finally meet her eyes from across the way, “you were a kid.” That was all she could say, in the end. And then she nodded her head, before she glanced down towards her own glass of water and creased her brow. “It’s not right, but you regret it now, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” you mumbled, only to let out a scoff, before you snapped your focus away from her face to look away, at nothing in particular, “still can’t take it back, though.” You didn’t mean for your tone to come off as sharply as it did, but you couldn’t help your own frustration. Especially because you wanted to be seen as good, or at least, somewhat moral in the eyes of the woman you’ve been traveling with. “But I thought you should know. It’s not a pretty part of my life, but at least I’m telling you something.”

“And the scar?” Lucy suddenly questioned, her tone careful.

You swallowed, before your eyes flickered down to the jagged scar that sat on the back of your left palm. Shaped like an ‘X’, and healing poorly in just how visible it was to the naked eye. “Well, I mean…” you paused to shrug your shoulders, “obviously, it got to a point where I didn’t want to kill innocent people anymore,” you uttered, “or be a part of their group, for that matter.” You flickered your attention back up to look at Lucy again. “They didn’t like that.”

Lucy’s expression shifted into one of pained shock, “So they…?” You nodded your head, the action slow and precise, and when your newfound friend caught your silent response, she felt her chest tighten, while her body started moving without a second thought. Standing up from the desert floor the two of you had found yourselves resting on, her boots scuffed against the grain, and she quickly rounded around the makeshift campfire.

“What are you–?”

You were cut off when Lucy plummeted to her knees and engulfed you in a hug that felt like an umbrella of warmth and comfort. Arms wrapped around your right shoulder, pulling your left into the middle of her chest, while her chin plopped atop the crown of your head, and she squeezed you tightly. It made you feel like you were being suffocated, but the feeling of claustrophobia and discomfort didn’t come to you, even if your face didn’t necessarily look as though you were appreciative of the sudden affection.

As the silence engulfed the two of you, you swallowed, feeling your cheeks heat up out of embarrassment at the vulnerability that seemed to take up the atmosphere, and after a few too many minutes passed, you finally cleared your throat. It was the way to convey that she could pull away, and you were thankful when she did. Although, you were expecting her to step away and walk back to where she was originally sitting, but instead, she maneuvered to linger beside you instead, as her shoulder brushed up against yours, and she nudged you lightly with her knee.

“I know you probably hated every second of that hug, but I felt like you might’ve needed one,” she mumbled, while your eyes flickered back down towards your cup of water, and you slowly lifted it up to allow yourself to take a measly sip of the fluid. “I’m sorry that happened to you, Y/n,” she added on, as you quietly listened to her, still thrown off from what had just happened, “no fifteen year old should have to go through something like that.”

It didn’t take long for you to eventually swallow down the small sip you took, and when you dropped the cup down onto your thigh, still holding it tightly, you slowly nodded your head, before you turned your face towards her and sent her a small smile. “Thanks for that,” you softly replied, “I can’t remember the last time I got a hug from someone, so… yeah.” You let out a slightly embarrassed huff, and your focus on her was swift to avert, when you set your attention onto the fire, “You’re a good person, Lucy.”

Lucy smiled at you gently, “So are you, Y/n.”

That conversation in itself was the thing that defined your relationship with Lucy. It was one full of silent understanding and loyalty that neither of you intended to lose for one another. It only made navigating your journey towards Moldaver easier, and it allowed you to open up a bit more, considering you had always been a little closed off in your affections and communication. In a way, you started to become her own personal guard dog. With knowing the surface and the things that lurked throughout it, you designated yourself as the expendable one, even if she herself hated that particular label.

So, of course, you made sure to never outwardly call yourself that.

Especially not when she was around.

Eventually, your journey with Lucy came to an end when the two of you finally managed to intercept Lee. After jumping through hoops to get a weird head from a Brotherhood of Steel soldier that had turned into a ghoul – much to your appreciation, considering your dislike towards the entire group, you and her continued on, but not before Maximus parted ways with the two of you to try and confuse his faction, considering they had been called in. It was admirable, in a way. To see him take on the responsibility of diverting his groups course for the sake of helping you and the vault dweller in completing your quest.

It made you start to hate him a little less.

Only a little, though.

Inevitably, you and Lucy found a decently fortified community, after you retreated from Maximus and the ghoul soldier who was internally freaking out about his predicament. Two old, clearly non-working cars lined the sheet-metal doors that led into Moldaver’s home, and with the catwalk sitting above the entrance, you weren’t ignorant to the people carrying weapons, waiting to strike at any given moment.

It was obvious that the head Lucy carried was the thing that kept you and her from getting a bullet to the skull. Surprisingly enough, they didn’t decide to take your weapons when they let you through the doors and escorted you and the vault dweller through a path lined by crops and towards a large, rundown building. And while you both progressed closer and closer to the point of interest, you saw children laughing and jogging around the vicinity, supposedly happy in their element, which only confused you further.

You heard things about Lee Moldaver. How everyone was terrified of her, and that she was feared. So to say you were confused when you and Lucy finally made it into the building she resided in, and found her having breakfast with a feral ghoul across a long table, would have been a major understatement.

But then you saw Lucy’s dad stuck in a cage, looking like he’d been sitting out in the sun for far too long, and it brought you back to the reality of the situation.

You were on a mission to help get him back.

But everything ended up falling through, like ice breaking off from a wall and falling into water, when Lee outed the man as one of the reasons why the world is the way that it is. One of the big figures behind Vault-Tec, striving to change things but in a fucked up, non-moralistic way. And although you didn’t know the man personally, that first impression certainly didn’t encourage you to like him, and even Lucy found herself questioning things, too. Like her childhood, that she had told you all about, and who her mother was, because Moldaver had been deeply interconnected, unbeknownst to her.

And you.

But of course you didn’t know.

“He never told you where he’s really from,” Lee stated, standing up from the seat that she had been sitting in, and taking the vial she had previously pulled out of the doctors’ head with her, “when he’s from.” She emphasized the first word to her ending explanation, and as Lucy stepped forward to slightly follow the woman, you lingered back and watched on, as you folded your arms over your chest and creased your brow curiously. “He never told your mother, either.”

“What do you know about my mother?” Lucy questioned suddenly.

Moldaver stepped up to a whirring bench of electronics and – in your eyes – confusion. Though, you did see her set the vial into some sort of square-like container, as it emitted a blue hue onto her skin and whatever else the light could touch. “She was like you,” the woman inevitably stated, “she was kind, loving.” She paused, “Curious.” She suddenly shook her head, before she turned around to look at Lucy, “Isn’t that why you came to the surface really?” she asked, “Partly to rescue your father, but… to know why I took him?”

Your confusion only intensified, and you found your arms slowly dropping back to your sides, just so you could settle your fingers onto the handle of the pistol nestled into your holster. “Rose was so clever. Like you,” Lee continued, all the while, as you stepped up beside Lucy and watched the older woman carefully, “Lucy, your mother discovered that something was siphoning the vault’s water away. From that one clue…” she raised a hand up to pinch her fingers together, as if to signify just how small it was, “she deduced that, maybe… civilization had returned to the surface.”

You could already tell where the story was going, and you found yourself swallowing the thick lump that formed in your throat, before you turned your focus over to Lucy, gauging her reaction. All the while, Lee stepped away from the console she had been fiddling with, and while the vault dweller’s expression shifted into a subtle look of disconcerted understanding, Moldaver continued. “When she told her husband, he said it was a ridiculous idea, and that she should tell no one.”

“Lucy, let’s go,” Lucy’s father suddenly started, gripping the bars of the cage, as he shook his head dismissively and glanced between both you and his daughter. “Let’s–”

But Lee cut him off before he could try and finish convincing Lucy, who seemed far too stunned to even listen to his reason, anyway. “And that’s when she realized that her husband, the Overseer, was hiding things.”

“Lucy, let’s go,” the supposed Overseer started up once again, and that was when Lucy’s eyes shifted away from Moldaver’s to look at him instead, “let’s get out of here.”

“So she ran away.” It felt like whiplash, having to hear the two older individuals fighting to take control of the conversation. Lee Moldaver had spoken up again, and you found yourself breathing in deeply, as your grip tightened on your gun, and you glanced at Lucy once more. “Like you did, Lucy.” When the woman spoke again, though, you forced yourself to take your attention away from the vault dweller, settling your pupils onto the older woman once more. “And took her children. And she found this wonderful city that was everything the vaults had promised to be.”

“She is lying!”

All three of you found yourselves ignoring the man’s words. He tried to maintain a steadiness in his tone, and although he succeeded well enough, with a simple glance towards him, you could see the internalized panic shining in his eyes. “But then, her husband came after her.” Moldaver only continued on, recalling the memory, “And when she decided not to return home, he took the children…” her voice trailed, and while you stared at her intently, you could see the way her lips shook, as an emotion of what you could only assume was pain overtook her weathered features, “and he burned that city to the ground.”

“Shady Sands,” you mumbled suddenly, your voice almost a whisper. However, Lee heard you, and as your lips parted faintly to showcase your shocked recollection, she nodded her head, while you consciously thought back onto the giant crater you and Lucy had come across, just before entering Vault 4.

“She’s lying, Lucy,” the Overseer suddenly said, ignoring your realization, as his eyes focused entirely on his daughter. But Lucy kept her gaze away from the man, unshed tears shining in her eyes, as she mindlessly shuffled closer to you and swallowed thickly.

“That’s how Vault-Tec deals with competition,” Lee stated, “just like they did two-hundred years ago.” Her fleeting words were enough to send you into a bout of shock, too. You felt your breath quietly hitch, and unconsciously, your fingers tightened around the handle of your pistol, as your eyes shot towards the ground, glaring a hole into the floor below you. The silence that overcame the four of you was enough to suffocate the atmosphere, and only after a minute, did Moldaver eventually speak up, but she was entirely focused on the vault dweller beside you.

“Lucy?” she called, which successfully gathered Lucy’s attention, when she snapped out of her internal thoughts and blankly lifted her hazel eyes up to meet Lee’s. “What you and your friend brought me is cold fusion,” she explained, “it’s limitless energy.” The Overseer shook his head and parted his lips to call his daughter’s name.

“Lucy…”

“And we can build–”

“She’s a murderer.”

“Our own world.”

The Overseer’s grip on the bars he held tightened. “Lucy, look at me.”

“It could be a better world.” Moldaver ignored him, though, while you lifted your head to look at Lucy, who blankly stared down at her boots, “it has clean water and medicine and power–”

The Overseer interrupted. “She invaded our home!”

“But for everyone!”

“Lucy!”

“Because when Vault-Tec bought my research…”

“She killed our people…”

“They made it proprietary, so only a trusted Vault-Tec minion can activate cold fusion.”

“Do not listen to her.”

You slowly reached up to graze your fingers over her bicep, and your touch was hesitant. You could tell she was slowly but surely pulling herself out of her stupor, but with the continual back and forth between Lee Moldaver and her father, you were almost positive they weren’t helping her. Not with the way her brow was creased, showcasing bafflement and discontent throughout her face. You found yourself eventually biting the bullet and reaching further out to fully wrap your hand around her arm, and when you gave it a squeeze, it seemed to jolt her out of her bout of thought.

“All I need… is for him to give me the code.”

Lucy’s eyes flickered to look at you, all while she turned her head in the slightest. She acted like a robot, still shocked and coming to terms with everything she heard. And it only seemed to make her dad impatient, when you heard him let out a deep groan, before he yelled.

“Lucy, look at me!”

The sound of a metal stool being thrown against the bars of the cage he was in was enough to fully snap Lucy out of her daze, when she flinched at the sudden action and snapped her head up to look at the Overseer. There was a sudden desire of protection that came over you the moment her father reacted, and when you yourself darted your focus to him, you held her arm tighter, as if to keep her rooted in her spot, away from the man.

“Look at me.” You could see the look of desperation in her dad’s eyes, as he gripped the bars of his enclosure and panted quietly, “Lucy,” he called her name once again, but nothing else came out of his mouth. He didn’t bother trying to explain himself. Nor did he refute Moldaver’s statements. He just… stared, and it was enough to lessen Lucy’s attention span when it came to gazing at him, when she fluttered her eyes away from him to address Lee instead.

“My mother,” she said shakily, “what happened to her?”

Lee stared at Lucy somberly, “I think you know.”

There was a moment of contemplation, and you slowly let go of Lucy’s arm, before you dropped your hand back onto the handle of your weapon. Unfortunately, you and the vault dweller were quick to put two and two together, and while your eyes widened in realization, she found herself turning around slowly, and settling her gaze onto the feral ghoul that sat at the table filled with food.

It was her mom.

The entire situation in that dilapidated building sent you in for a loop. From finding out that Lucy’s father was one of the men who worked for Vault-Tec, which was the organization that turned the world the way that it was, to realizing that Lee Moldaver wasn’t as bad as either of you thought. She was a part of the New California Republic, and although you’ve only ever heard stories about them, you didn’t hate them nearly as much as you did the Brotherhood of Steel. That faction of which only ended up attacking the community you found yourselves in, shortly after the Overseer was pressured into giving the code for the cold fusion vial.

All the while, Lucy’s dad attempted to convince her to let him out, manipulating her into believing that he was right for doing what he did, but you found yourself shaking your head and muttering for her to go. And she herself was far too frozen to listen to you, or her father for that matter. So, you found yourself in a predicament. Hearing explosions and gunshots outside, which only got closer and closer to where you and her were, made you start to panic, not entirely knowing what to do.

But then Maximus came back into the fold, with a headless phantom suit of power armor leading the way into the room, while he himself held up a gun. Unfortunately, one thing led to another in the process. With Lucy’s dad urging the soldier to let him out, he did so without a second thought, which only ended in shit going awry. Because when Lucy finally snapped into reality and told the Brotherhood of Steel knight to not trust the man, you attempted to tug your weapon out of your holster to hold her father at bay, which only ended in you getting knocked out when he snuck inside of the contraption of BOS gear and whacked you in the face with his metal fist.

You eventually woke up to a dog licking your face, though.

“You know, for a supposed ‘wasteland-born dweller,’ you do not know how to take a hit, kid.”

Your features scrunched up in reaction to the wet feeling of a dog lapping at your cheek, and with a lazy raise of your hand, you gently swatted the animal away, which earned a soft whine from it in turn. Nonetheless, the pup trotted away, and with the sun having disappeared from the sky to allow the moon to reign down on the world, you didn’t have to squint much when you fluttered your eyes open and pushed yourself up into a sitting position.

Your jaw was undeniably sore, and you found yourself rolling it around, as you reached a hand up to rub at it. “What the hell are you talking about?” you tiredly questioned, scrunching your eyebrows in confusion, while you eventually lifted your chin up to look at the figure that stood in front of the fire, the cowboy hat he wore shadowing his weathered features, as he gripped the leather of his belt. “Who are you?”

“The guy you didn’t help.”

There was a short moment of silence as you recollected everything that had happened within the past two months. And only after a minute or two, did you remember the grocery store and meeting Lucy, as well as the ghoul you had stepped over and passed by, because you thought he was going to turn feral. Naturally, your expression shifted into a look of realization, and when the man turned his head slightly to gaze down at you, you slowly nodded your head, only to completely change the subject. “Where’s Lucy?”

Looking around, you were in the woods, probably closer to Hollywood than the desert you knew far too well. More importantly, you couldn’t find Lucy, and you felt your heart leap to your throat, as you snapped your focus back up to the man, who let out a scoff and turned his head away from you to stare at the fire again. “She’s just takin’ a bathroom break. Relax.”

You wanted to flip him off for being so crass, but you lacked the energy to respond, when you simply glanced down in thought and swallowed down the dryness in your throat. It wasn’t long before you pressed your palm against the floor of the forest and pushed yourself up to your feet, and as your boots crunched the leaves below you, you raised to your full height and stretched your back, which caused your muscles to pop and crack from the forced movement.

The longer you kept your eyes open, the more awake you became, which allowed you to simultaneously take in even more of your surroundings. Particularly the Belgian Malinois that sat on her hind legs and stared up at you with her deep brown eyes. It had been a while since you’d seen a dog that didn’t look mutated, and you couldn’t help the way the corners of your lips curled up into a faint smile at the sight, before you moved your attention away from the animal and scanned the rest of the forest around the three of you.

In that same moment, your eyes found themselves settling onto Lucy, when twigs and leaves crunched beneath her own boots, as she walked back towards the fire you and the ghoul man were at. “Lucy?” you suddenly called, your voice cracking, due to its lack of use. You cleared your throat immediately after, and as you stepped away from the fire to walk towards her, she snapped her head up and immediately met your gaze.

You didn’t give her the chance to speak. Nor did you gauge her reaction, as you quickened your pace and suddenly pulled her into a tight hug, the moment you were close enough. The quiet gasp she let out was expected, but you focused more on cocooning her in an embrace full of warmth and comfort, just like she did to you all those weeks ago.

It didn’t take long for Lucy to slowly wrap her arms around you, too, reciprocating the hug, as she buried her face into your shoulder and gripped the fabric of your shirt. “This feels familiar,” she mumbled, her voice muffled, which caused you to let out a quiet huff of amusement, as you rubbed at her back. “Thanks for this, Y/n,” she added on, and you immediately nodded your head, as you squeezed her tighter.

“Of course,” you replied quietly, “it seemed like you needed a hug.”

Lucy sighed heavily into your shoulder, and you could tell she was still bearing the weight of what had happened back at Moldaver’s community. “I do,” she murmured, “I really do.”

And because of that, you decided to hold her for a little longer in turn.

#lucy maclean x reader #fallout x reader #lucy maclean

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hervey-gervey-chip · 3 months ago

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DIY AGE-OF-SAIL INSPIRED FOULIES

part IV: the test

y’all i fucking did it!i’m making an update! first off, let’s go through the weather of the day. it was cloudy with a light but consistent drizzle, slightly chilly, and it had rained enough by the time i was climbing around that the rig was thoroughly wet. (said rig is pictured below with the day’s conditions)

initial reaction when putting them on:

relatively stiff! very similar level of stiffness to my other pair of bibs that I have from 2020; they are just the most basic west marine ones you can buy.

it was sprinkling a bit outside already, and water was beading nicely on the cloth

the ass reinforcement i did began slightly lower than i would have liked, but i guess that’s what you get when you don’t measure anything on your actual physical form before you start sewing lol

i wore them over top of my denim work pants and i didn’t feel congested in there at all

sail prep:

the harness cinched over them just fine and they were super easy to climb in!

we reefed tops’ls and i went out to the yardarm to do the earring lashing, and therefore had full body contact with a wet yard and sail for the duration of the lashing (diagram below), and then stood on the footropes regular-style for a bit to finish up reef nettles. i got back to deck and was not a bit damper than i was before i went aloft. *though everything i was wearing was just ~ambiently damp~ just because that’s how humidity works. if you’ve ever put on an item of clothing that’s been living in under-bunk storage for a month, that’s what the vibe was.

water was no longer beading, but rather a thin film of wet on the top layer of fibers.

sail time!

plenty of time on a knee or sitting on wet hatches i think is what did it. i was still fairly dry; however, by the end of the day i felt a little wetness seeping through at the knees, and more on the butt. that said, the reinforcement was /just/ high enough to cover the part that made contact when sitting.

overall, they fared about as well as those westmarine bibs do currently: definitely works, but not the ideal for a downpour or long watches in the rain.

what i learned:

i’m definitely doing this again and maybe my shipmates and i will have a oilskin-making party, though next time i will be changing the recipe

when i got back to the shop that monday, i found my sample piece of fabric that i put raw tung oil on to see how it cured by itself. it was surprisingly malleable and didn’t crack when i bent it around a bit. i had been pondering using just a quarter of the wax in the next mix just to keep it a bit more flexible so the paint and oil won’t crack as the bibs are exposed to the elements. now that i know what i do, i may even reduce the wax to a few heaping tablespoons just so that whatever wax i use to maintain them will stick better to the cloth. i think the issue here that caused the present pair to wet out was penetration (i’m so sorry i couldn’t think of a better word).

i also waxed the reinforcements after they were attached, and next time i’ll definitely oil the fabric separate from the bibs themselves for an extra layer of protection.

conclusion:

i’m honestly not disappointed and am, in fact, slightly impressed that my amateur soup-soaked overalls are comparable to the state of a (used) pair of mass-manufactured foul weather bibs.

#oilskins #tall ship #sailor #historic sailing #age of sail #sewing #foulies #lady washington #tincloth #rain gear

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random-introverted-blog · 11 months ago

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No More [Selunite!Shadowheart x F!Reader/Tav]

NOTE: THIS IS A CONTINUATION OF FLICKERS OF LOSS. Yes, I did it, thank AO3 you cowards.

Honestly, I planned more but like where it ended too much to drag it out [sandcastles next time?]

Continuation/Part 3 - Shadows of Shar

Intended Audience: Mature [it gets a teeny bit questionable but that's why the teens will ignore this rating anyway]

Who be smoochin?: Shadowheart x F!Reader/Tav (I got tired of y/n, broke my writing immersion)

The Bit: It's been a month since Selunite!Shadowheart and you escaped DarkJusticiar!Shadowheart. You haven't been sleeping well, and are struggling to adjust. It doesn't help that the wound she left on your hand, binding you to her, still torments you. Or the nightmares you have nearly every time you lay down. Or that you have few memories of your prior life with Selunite!Shadowheart to guide you.

Warnings/Advisories: Fluffy hurt comfort. You're going through it, lingering Stockholm Syndrome is making your thoughts questionable at times, one of your nightmares gets pretty spooky, you're still pretty damn brainwashed and your girlfriend is mega supportive. Mildly graphic detail of a relived memory, a distinct lack of sandcastles (sorry guys it was mostly written by the time it was suggested BUT... maybe next time? NO PROMISES)

Words, all the word (count): 2,583, baebeeeee

Link to the AO3 page if you prefer reading there

MINIMAL EDITING - WE FORGET AND DIE LIKE SHARRANS (AGAIN)

Providing a continuation I didn't think I'd actually write I'm 3...2...1...

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈--ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈--ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈-

Absentmindedly, your fingertips brushed over the wounds on your hand, staring into the darkness of the night surrounding the cottage. The rough texture of the log you've perched yourself on helped keep your mind from wandering too far while the chirping of crickets and hooting owls provided a beautiful, calming melody.

Dawn would break in two or so hours. You think. It was still odd, having to relearn things that came so simply to others. There was no need to memorize the lights in the sky when you seldom found yourself beneath them.

Twinkling and bright, they soothed something in you. Sure, the moon was beautiful, and you'd always be eternally grateful for everything Selûne has done. After all, it was her amulet around your neck that provided enduring guardianship over you. But sometimes... you just wanted the sparkling freckles scattered along the dark canvas of the night sky.

But your mind always wandered back to where it shouldn't. Or maybe it should. It was still so hard to tell. Even as you trace the shapes scarred into your flesh, something inside you... ached. Was that man hurting her? Does he make sure she has her black velvet tea stuff in the morning? Does she miss you?

Like you miss her...

Gods, how pathetic can you be?

A searing, throbbing burst of pain surges across your nerves from your hand, spreading up your arm and finally subsiding at your elbow. The scars-turned-sigils flickering a brief violet, while you wince and hiss. You were getting better at tolerating the pain...

Familiar footfalls crunched the leaves and twigs leading to your log. The first time, you jumped and darted into the woods. Found only when your wound flared so intensely, you screamed. The times after that, you jumped.

You've started to relearn the feeling of her presence, like a warm embrace that lingers in your memory. Differentiate it from what you were trained to know.

She took a seat beside you, positioning herself on your right. Close enough, you could feel her, distant enough to avoid suffocating you. The soft rustle of her clothing barely registered amidst the ambient songs of the evening. Silence enveloped her but was not unexpected, as she occasionally left you to your own musings. Just by being there, she effortlessly offered endless support. Provide soothing reassurance, an attentive ear or a warm shoulder - Whatever you needed, she would make sure you had it. It was one of the first things she taught you.

Though... recovery was still difficult. Part of you wanted to hear her. Scoot closer until you could feel her warmth. All you had to do was ask. Reach out for her. You weren't sure how to do much of that yet, but you wanted to try... you wanted to so badly. "I... don't want to sleep anymore." The words escape your lips in a hushed murmur, echoing the reason behind your presence in this place, reminding you why you're out here in the first place. And you fought desperately to shut it out.

"I know." She whispers, tone brimming with empathy. As you glance sideways, you can see her eyes locked on you, watching your every move. "But you need to. Running from it won't heal you, my love." Her hand moves closer to you, silently asking for permission.

All you do is return your hand to your side on the log, and Shadowheart does the rest. Her fingers delicately traced the contours of your hand as she slid hers over yours. You hesitantly meet her eyes, feeling a surge of nervous anticipation. All the warmth and happiness you wanted so badly was now laid bare and raw before you. Ready for you to come to your senses, get over yourself and...

Again, but worse this time. Your arm throbbed intensely, the pain spreading from your hand and into your shoulder, igniting a blazing fire pulsating through your entire body. It felt as though invisible knives were mercilessly carving your skin, prompting an involuntary cry of agony for just a fleeting moment before you quickly stifled it by clenching your teeth, your eyes screwed tightly shut.

You're barely aware of Shadowheart's hands clasped around yours, closer to you now, her soft-spoken words of affection and comfort. "Shh," she coos warmly, trying to soothe you. "It'll pass... just breathe. Shh... I'm right here, listen to me and breathe, love..." As your hand relaxes between hers and your breathing finds a steady rhythm, she can't help but smile. "There... See? Already passed." Shadowheart adds, placing a delicate peck to your temple, sending a warm tingle down your spine.

"Mine is bound to..."

"I know..." She cuts you off gently, rubbing soft circles on your hand. "This is the most she can do to you now. And the more you reclaim of yourself, the less this will matter. I promise."

Giving your hand a gentle squeeze before rising to her feet and gently pulling you with her. You don't fight her.

Leading you back inside, she playfully shoos away a dog lingering at the door, giggling quietly as it scampers off. A frown briefly creases your lips, wishing you could recognize the animals as much as they recognized you.

As she led you up the stairs to your bedroom, she made sure to keep your hand in hers, providing a constant sense of comfort until you reached the bed. She lifts a cat from your side of the bed and settles it on the floor before reaching for you to help you in. But she reads the look on your face, smiles almost apologetically and settles for just holding your hand until you sit on the edge of the bed.

Once you appear to relax, she gracefully rounds the bed and climbs in on her side, the mattress sinking slightly beneath her weight. Her eyes burning into your back as you sit there, hesitating. "Love, please..."

Her fingers lightly graze your exposed shoulder, causing you to flinch involuntarily. Shadowheart pauses, and you cringe at the hurt you sense radiating from her now still hand. But she tries, so slowly and timidly. "I'll be right here, sweetheart. Whatever comes, you won't face it alone this time. I swear..."

The tenderness in her voice is so different from the harsh commands you've come to expect. It's like a balm to your wary mind and you carefully ease yourself down to rest your head on the pillow.

For a split second, you're staring at the dark ceiling of that place and your core twitches in anticipation, ready to give everything and anything she wants of you.

A warm hand settles over yours, its touch so gentle that you don't notice your own trembling until she holds them steady. "You're safe here." Shadowheart reassures, voice barely above a whisper beside you. Nights have been difficult for the entire month you've been here, beset by restless sleep and haunting dreams. Surely it was wearing on her, this constant need to comfort and ground you... But here she was, just as patient and present as she was the first night. Not so much as implying a single complaint, passive or otherwise. "Can I hold you?" She asks, voice deliberate and measured, like the very words would startle you into the woods.

You offer a subtle nod, the faint sound of your affirmation barely audible in the room. As you do, you notice her cautious shuffle, the soft rustling of her moving across the bed. The moonlight through the window behind the bed casts a gentle glow, illuminating her hands, which she purposefully positions within your line of sight. You can sense her deliberate awareness, her conscious effort to ensure her actions remain visible. Gradually, she encircles you with her arms, her touch conveying a tender and guarded embrace. The scent of her envelops you - lavender and night orchids - adding a touch of familiarity.

She would never have... your body was hers to suit her whims...

"You're safe here..." Shadowheart whispers into your ear, returning you to the cottage. The present. Her nose gently presses into the crook of your neck, the warmth of her breath a soft caress you fixate on as your eyelids drift closed.

The initial darkness is hushed and welcoming, like a gentle whisper in the night... until it's not.

Until it's frigid and gripping at your limbs so tight, you almost lose feeling in them... Until they're pulling at the seams of you, tearing at you and boils your blood hot enough you swear your skin is melting off your bones like wax off a wick. You would scream if your mouth were allowed to open. "You've strayed, pet..." the icy voice scolds, her tone low. From the depths of the darkness, a faint silhouette emerges, steadily approaching you. "And we both know deep down that's not your honest desire."

Closing the distance between you, She emerges and looms above, her presence dominating. You realize now you're on your knees, with a sense of vulnerability washing over you.. Wearing her black robe you could still vividly envision even without seeing it. "Recall your prayer of contrition, when you first came to the Nightsingers' embrace."

You do, and the sharp pang of unmitigated anguish shoots through you. "When you wavered at the altar, when you turned away from her and hesitated to send Nyxara to her endless dark." It's as if a floodgate opens, and the memory of your first friend in the cloister rushes in. And your first act of wickedness to earn your place in it.

How She had to take your hand and drive the blade into her chest. The ghostly touch of tears streaming down your face lingers, as if they were shed just moments ago. You could almost still feel her heart beating its last into your palm through the dagger, as if you were still holding it. Could nearly feel the warmth of her life ebbing away in your hand.

You were permitted a pass only because She needed you initiated as soon as possible. But you had to pray for hours, the soft murmurs of your pleas mingling with the soft rustle of her robe as She circled you. Watched over you. Ensured your prayers were offered with utmost deference and reverence. Punishing you with your wound if you slipped in fervor.

Before you were called again to sacrifice Umbric, your only other friend. Your last one. Both a second chance to do it properly, and to repent of your failure... No more attachments. Only Shar. Only Her.

You knew better than to make friends after that.

Her slow crouch brought her eyes, icy green and intense, to meet yours, leaving you feeling completely powerless, entranced and held captive by her gaze. "Recite it. Recite it and repent for forswearing your faith to Lady Shar." The demand feels impossible to ignore, your mouth returning to you and an expectant glare follows.

"Mistress Shar, in the shadow of loss, I beseech your forgiveness. Forgive my faltering..."

"Tav!"

Your body lurches forward, drawing in a deep breath that fills your starving lungs. You feel your entire body trembling until warm, comforting arms encircle you. Offering a sense of security and safety. "I've got you, you're okay..."

"F-forgive my faltering faith, Mistress Shar—"

"Tav, no," Shadowheart says firmly, "come back to me, my love, I know you're stronger than her..." the stifled tremor is enough to clear the fog in your mind. "You're more than a puppet for her amusement. You always have been..." pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head before nestling her nose in your hair. Drawing you deeper into her arms.

Recite it.

"I... don't want to..." Finally you break, the intensity of your training and your hunger for this new way of life conflicting so fiercely it overwhelms you.

Without further clarification, she amazingly understands. "No, my love, you don't have to. Not anymore... Never again." Shadowheart mutters into your hair. Holding you tighter when she feels the wet warmth you're bathing her shirt in. "Gods, I'm so sorry," she mutters, her voice filled with a self-reproach. "I should have done more, planned better, gotten to you sooner..."

You don't think, not really. You just act. Like you know already. The motions are a blur, but you know you pull back just enough... then your lips are on hers. She takes a moment to gather herself, but eventually eases into the moment and reciprocates. And it's unbelievably amazing.

The way she kisses you is sweet and tender, as if she wants to savor every moment with you. How she touched you, looked at you, now kissing you, like you were the most cherished and adored person in the world. Her lips against yours is so soft and electrifying that it sends wonderful shivers down your spine, and your body tingles in bliss.

There's no teeth, no pain, no blood. Only the warmth of her mouth moving slowly with yours like a delicate caress. Her hands are soft on your back, maintaining the security her arms provide you. It's everything beautiful that your stunted memory can recall of her kisses, and more... and you never want her to stop, craving for more. How have you gone this long without realizing how indescribably incredible she is?

But surely she does, if ever slightly. Neither of you seems ready to fully disconnect from each other. Your eyes remaining closed. "No more..." you whisper quietly.

"No more..." Shadowheart echoes just as quietly. Her lips twitching slightly, one hand brushing away a few lingering tears from your cheek. "Not anymore." Pressing a small kiss to your lips. "Never again." And another before her smile spreads wider.

Shadowheart gracefully maneuvers you both again to lie down in bed. This time you're practically on top of her, your face nuzzled into her shoulder. You gently weave your fingers through her smooth, flowing white hair, which partially cascades over her other shoulder, eliciting both a smile and a small sigh of appreciation from her. Mesmerized by her beauty, you can't help gawk in awe. Bathed in the ethereal glow of the moonlight streaming through the window, she looks absolutely radiant.

Her hand, still playing with the hair behind your head, guides you to rest on her shoulder. Securing you against her with her arm.

The memory crosses your mind and though you tense a moment; it doesn't... hurt as much as you've come to expect. Shadowheart gently tightens her arms in silent reassurance, and you respond by wiggling impossibly closer to her. The last thing you want is for her to think you feel or appreciate nothing she's done.

Instead, you gently drape your arm over her waist, feeling a sense of belonging and protection, as your mind wanders to Shadowheart... Your Shadowheart, savoring how your body melds so perfectly with hers. The adventures you must have shared. Wondering if there's a way to get those memories back.

Shadowheart fills all the dark corners of your thoughts, leaving no room for her to overrun your peace of mind. Before long, the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest, her steady breathing, has created a soothing lullaby that lulls you back to sleep.

This time, you're welcomed by a soft radiance and a soothing warmth.

In your fragmented memory, you can't recall a time when you've slept as soundly as you do now, peacefully drifting into a deep slumber.

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈--ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈--ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈-

A/N: Wowowow okay hi. I didn't honestly expect to write anything beyond where it ended. Nothing public anyways. But AO3 asked very nicely (thanks!) for a continuation. I honestly intended this to be a beefy one but really liked the vibe and way it ended. Ya get what ya get. Quality over quantity, yeah?

Thanks again to everyone who likes, reblogs, replies, supports this little project in anyway you deem worth your time! And with that... Unpopular writer, awayyyy...

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate #bg3 #shadowheart #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate shadowheart #baldurs gate fanfiction #shadowheart x tav #bg3 shadowheart #dark justiciar shadowheart #dark justiciar shadow heart #dark justiciar #ao3 baldurs gate #baldurs gate #baldurs gate romance #baldurs gate tav #baldur's gate romance #i will let the rot consume me #i am the goddess queen of rot

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bearsbeetsbeskar · 1 year ago

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Somebody to Heal, Somebody to Hold

(Joel Miller x dispensary! reader)

Chapter 3: Blue Dream

Chapter 1 here || Chapter 2 here || Main masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x dispensary! reader, AU (no outbreak) Word count: 4.7K Rating: 18+ MDNI, will be changed to explicit in future chapters (slow burn, eventual smut), swearing, discussions of drug use, discussions of disordered eating, age gap (reader is early 20s and Joel is late 40s) Summary: Joel can't rely on pills anymore for his back pain, so his doctor prescribes him medicinal marijuana. But he's not happy about it.

A/N: It's here y'all! Peepaw got high, and now he has the munchies. For food, as well as for the reader 🌚. This chapter was so fun to write, I loved fleshing out their progressing relationship. PEEPAW gets teased endlessly for being old (I couldn't resist), and he gains a smoking buddy 🥹. As always, thank you to my main hype woman, my ride or RIDE, @iamasaddie for beta'ing. Your excitement and support means the world to me!

Please comment and reblog if you liked it and want to see more of this series! I'm so in awe and appreciative of all the lovely comments and support I've received so far, you guys keep this story going!

❤️ 🌹 - N

In the midst of smoking with Joel, you had forgotten how long it had been since you last ate. The rumbles coming from his stomach reminded you pretty quickly though. You hum and chew the inside of your cheek as you think of possible food options to satisfy the munchies.

Although pretty much anything tastes better when you’re high, thanks to the way that THC heightens your senses, especially taste, you want to get something he will like. You’re not sure why you care so much but you want him to enjoy it, as part of his first smoking experience.

Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you start to scroll through UberEats to see what’s in the area.

“Feel like eating anything in particular?”

Joel purses his lips together and hums. “Not really, I ain’t picky.”

You’re inclined to believe him but you still wanna mess with him, just a little bit.

“Ouh, there’s this really good vegan place in town that has good reviews and lot’s of options!” You look at him sideways and raise your eyebrows.

“Uh,” He grimaces slightly before he can school his expression, “sure that sounds-”

“I’m just fucking with you Joel” You lean in to shove him again as giggles start bubbling up from your chest. “I’d never eat that shit either, I love real food and meat too much to give it up”

“Thank fucking God,” he breathes out and runs a hand over his face. “I can’t stand it, everything is vegan this, vegan that. What happened to normal real food?”

You snort in response, still scrolling. And then something catches your eye.

“Oh shit! Apparently there’s a food truck festival happening at Bellwoods Park, just a couple minutes from here. There’s lots of different vendors, and it’s probably a lot cheaper than ordering take out. We’ll have to walk over but it’s not too far”

“Yeah, I’m up for that.” He perks up a bit and smiles at you.

No less than 20 minutes later you and Joel arrive at the food truck festival. You’re immediately surprised by how cozy and ambient it is. There’s numerous picnic benches in the middle of the grassy area and a few carnival games on the far end of the field for the kids. Twinkle lights are strung like a canopy over the entirety of the park, casting a molten amber glow over the festivities, complementing the warm hues of paper bunting strung from vendor truck to truck. People flock to the vendor trucks flanking the outside of the park perimeter. The smell of various fried foods and grills being fired up has your mouth watering and stomach growling again.

“Huh.” Joel whistled lowly, taking in the surroundings. “Been here for almost 20 years and I didn’t know this existed.”

“It looks like a seasonal thing that the city puts on every year, maybe there’s just more hype around it this year.” You surmise, following his gaze and looking around. “That or you just live under a rock.” A smirk sprawls across your face as you look back at him.

He huffs out an exhale. “Wouldn’t be the first time I heard that.”

“Well, now’s your chance to explore,” gesturing to the lineup of trucks. The various vendors sell everything from shaved ice to burritos, to Korean bbq and Philly cheesesteak sandwiches. The options are endless. You’re about to suggest something to him when one truck in particular catches your eyes.

“Oh my god, Smashburgers!” You make a beeline for the food truck, not even waiting to see if Joel follows you. The smell of charbroiled meat and greasy french fries fill your nostrils, creating another twinge of hunger in your stomach. It’s been ages since you had a good burger, and Rick’s Smashburgers was the best in town, you weren’t about to pass it up now. Sensing Joel’s broad presence approach your right side before you can turn around, you nod your head towards the menu plastered on the chalkboard against the side of the truck.

“Ricks has the best burgers in town by far. Trust me.”

“Smashburgers? How are they any different from regular hamburgers?”

“They’re just better in general” you answer him as if it was obvious. He raises an eyebrow at you. “The patties are basically flattened or smashed and it makes them crispier and just better overall. Trust me.” Giving him your most pleading look, he sighs and looks at the menu, and then at the plates of burgers lined up at the window to be given to customers.

“They do look pretty damn good. Only-” he shifts his jaw and hesitates, “my doctor told me to stay away from red meat, and eat more veggies,” he grumbles defeatedly, staring at the menu like he wanted to burn a hole in it.

You frown for a split second but it slowly morphs into a smile. Joel Miller is cute when he is grumpy. And for whatever reason, it actually warms your heart that he’s trying to be compliant with his doctor's orders. Still, you nod.

“Okay, well, we could always get something else. Althoughhhh” you pause for dramatic effect, “technically the burgers are thinner than regular burgers so there is less meat, and there’s lettuce and tomatoes on the burger.” You look sideways at him but he’s already shaking his head, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Who woulda thought I’d experience more peer pressure for eatin’ a burger than smokin’ weed. Jesus, I’m losin’ it.” The smile turns into a grin and there’s a glimmer in his eyes.

“Sure darlin’, a smashburger sounds good.”

—---------------------------------------------------------

If anyone had told Joel that in his lifetime he would eventually find himself at a festival surrounded by throngs of people, after smoking weed for the first time, with a woman he had just met, he would have told them to fuck right off.

All because of his back pain. His godforsaken back pain.

Admittedly, he had no idea what to expect when you said you would come over to show him how to smoke, but he definitely said a silent prayer when you offered, seeming to understand that the whole situation was embarrassing for him. You were so nice and personable. Just like you had been the day before when he came into the dispensary like a lost puppy.

The irrational part of him wanted to believe that you were just pitying him. Pitying a helpless middle aged man who’s geriatric aches and pains were running him into the ground. But your patience with him and calm reassurance about his concerns dismantled that theory. That, and the fact that you offered to come over after you got off work, during your free time. It didn’t seem like you were getting commission from going above and beyond with your customer service skills at the dispensary. What business would you have hanging out with a man who was at least two decades older than you?

Joel wasn’t stupid, and he certainly wasn’t blind to your beauty. Despite the playful banter you shared with him, and your wandering gaze that he caught dipping down to his lips and his body, he knew that he wouldn’t have a shot in hell with you. Regardless, he was buzzing with nervous energy when you knocked on his door.

Surprisingly, the actual smoking wasn’t as bad as he anticipated. Marijuana smoke tasted somewhat better than cigarette smoke. Weird, but better. The tang of the herb settled on his taste buds more easily than nicotine did during that one time he tried it all those years ago.

It was actually enjoyable if he was being honest with himself. Although, he’s not sure if that’s because of your added presence or the weed actually doing its job. The monotony of inhaling and pulling from the joint, holding his breath for a few seconds and then exhaling slowly became muscle memory. The THC settled into his bloodstream as he felt the mellow warm buzz permeate his body and seep into his bones. The once aching flare of pain that was his constant companion no longer reared its ugly head, as he stretched beside you on the couch. He genuinely couldn't believe it.

He anticipated he would cough up a lung at one point or another, which he did. And he anticipated the back pain would be subdued, which it was. You also warned him of dry eyes and cotton mouth once the marijuana took effect in his system. Nevertheless, he’s caught off guard when his mouth goes bone dry and his eyes glaze over as he watches you do that trick.

The french inhale.

Seemingly mesmerized by the way the smoke pours out of your lips like viscous liquid, and the way you inhale it through your nose again, he all but loses it when you show him how to do the smoke rings. The way your plush lips pout, forming an O shape as you push the smoke out of your mouth, your cheeks slightly hollowed. You’re so close beside him that he can faintly smell the tropical notes of your shampoo and see the glassiness in your doe eyes when you smile at him.

It’s the cruelest form of torture, he surmises. You're the sweetest siren, making the simplest gesture look sexy as hell.

Caveman brain bouncing off the walls as he flexes his thighs, his left hand remains in his lap over his crotch while he curls his right hand into a fist. The sting of his nails digging into his palms keeps him tethered to reality, while he tries to ignore how tight the crotch of his pants are.

But fuck, it’s a challenge when you keep looking at him like that, with a Cheshire cat grin plastered across your face.

His lust is interrupted soon enough when he feels his stomach let out the loudest rumble. And to his surprise your smile only gets wider in response.

It’s almost the same smile he’s witnessing in this moment, as he watches you take another big bite out of your burger and moan, almost pornographically.

You both get burgers and decide to split some french fries for good measure. Nevermind the fact that you asserted, "a good burger isn't complete without a side of fries."

Trusting your judgment, Joel orders the same as you; a smashburger with crispy onions, lettuce, tomato, cheese and their special house BBQ sauce. Only no pickles for him, and extra bacon, cause why the fuck not?

Technically he’s following the doctor's orders. He’s already smoked the weed. The low cholesterol diet can start tomorrow.

The burger is delicious. Like ridiculously delicious.

“Damn” He says in between the first couple bites, “this is fucking good. Best burger I’ve had in a while actually.” Humming in agreement, you pop a couple fries in your mouth.

“I know right? I told you. Better than regular burgers.”

They’re messy as hell but it’s worth it the minute the flavor of charred meat hits his tongue, the crispiness of the onions, coupled with the special sauce creating a mouthwatering combo.

You finish your burger at an alarming pace. Popping the last bite into your mouth, you grab a handful more of fries, dunking them into some ketchup.

Christ, he thought he was hungry. You must have been starving considering it had been well over 5 hours since your lunch break. Before you can shove the fries in your mouth, you pause and raise your eyebrows at his ogling.

“What?”

“Nothing.” When you look at him expectantly he shakes his head. That small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Just surprised you have a big appetite, s’all.”

Somewhat bemused by his words, you tilt your head.

“Most women I know, they just eat salads and healthy crap. Always watching their weight and being picky with their food.” He smirks, nodding his chin towards your plate. “It’s just nice to see a woman who can actually throw down.”

Shaking your head, you snort. “Please, life is too fucking short to deprive yourself and worry about the shit you eat. I’d rather die with a full belly of food that I enjoy than eat like a rabbit.”

At that he lets out a loud guffaw. Not only do you have a decent appetite but you also got quite the potty mouth on you. He shouldn’t find that so attractive but he does.

“Also,” you flippantly wave a fry around in your hand, gesturing to the near empty tray of food sitting on the table between you two, “who wouldn’t want to eat when the food is this fucking good?”

Clicking his tongue against his teeth, he rolls his shoulders back and reclines in his seat with a wink. “Can’t argue with that logic darlin’.”

Over the next hour or so, you get to know bits and pieces about each other while picking at the remainder of fries. Bouncing between topics, from food to work, to each other’s personal histories. Joel learns that your favorite food is pasta, grinning at you while you go off on a tangent about how pasta should be included as one of the main food groups. Doesn’t matter what kind of pasta, just pasta.

His favorite meal is anything home cooked and southern. Of course, nothing beats a good old sirloin steak with roasted potatoes. He’s a sucker for cornbread too. Sweet desserts are his weakness he reveals, but he never usually gets them for himself, only bringing home treats when he knows his daughter Sarah will be in town. When Sarah isn’t home he’s usually at the mercy of fast food joints due to his work hours, “hence the high cholesterol,” he grumbles.

That leads him to tell you about Sarah, how long he’s been in Austin, his job as a contractor. In return you tell him about going back to school and getting the dispensary job through Stef, just to have some money on the side.

“I needed to throw myself into something after my ex and I broke up.” You sigh defeatedly and cross your arms, elbows resting on the table as you look down. “Naturally, I figured going back to school and getting a job would be the solution, only now it feels like I’m barely keeping my head above water.”

At that confession, Joel raises his eyebrows in disbelief. Guilt and shame wash over your features. It makes him frown, his eyebrows pinching together. Sadness isn’t a good look on you, and even though he’s known you for less than a day, he doesn’t like seeing that look cloud your face.

“Fuck him,” he quips, “his loss.”

Huffing out an exhale, you fiddle with a crumpled napkin on your side of the tray. Ripping up small bits of the crinkled paper and rolling them between your fingers. “You don’t know the whole story.”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Doesn’t matter, still sounds like he lost out.”

When you don’t look up at him, just continuing to rip up the napkin, biting the inside of your cheek, his voice softens.

“Sorry. It’s none of my business,” he backtracks, “you don’t have to tell me.”

At that you finally look up at him, “no, it’s okay Joel. Really. It’s been a while since we split.”

He nods slowly, waiting for you to continue.

“In the end we both wanted different things. He was ready to settle down, get married, buy a house, and start popping out kids. It took me a while to realize that that was far from what I wanted.” You stare off to the side, watching the kids at the far end of the field run throughout the maze of festival games.

“I guess you could say we split amicably, but we were together for a long time," you continue on. "When it was over he didn’t hesitate to tell me that I would never find someone like him, that I’ll never find someone who would love me as much as he did, and how he did so much for me, blah blah blah. That kinda bullshit” You chuckle hollowly, folding your arms across your chest.

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes again, silently cursing at the asshole who managed to convince you that you wouldn’t find someone better.

Wishful thinking claws at his chest as he swallows. He knows he probably wouldn’t be that much better for you either. You’re warm, caring, funny, gorgeous with a sharp wit that he finds painfully endearing. Who wouldn’t want you?

He swallows before he speaks up again. “It happens that sometimes people grow apart, realize they have different values and want different things. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that. It hurts but better you figure it out now rather than later. I learned that the hard way,” he says with a regretful smile.

You shake your head, giving him an out before he says anything else. “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me.”

“Nah, it was a while ago. A long time ago. My ex and I, we had Sarah when we were real young.” He chuckles without any mirth. “Young and dumb. We had no idea what we were doing, but we both knew deep down it wouldn’t work. I was working ridiculous hours to make ends meet for us and she wasn't happy about that. We realized how different we truly were and figured it was for the best that we split.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” There’s concern in your eyes but you give him an empathetic smile. “But in the end, you got Sarah, right?”

Exhaling deeply, he nods and smiles softly. “Yeah. Thank God. She’s my whole life honestly. Gives me a reason to get up in the morning. She’s crazy smart, sometimes too smart for own good, but she has a heart of gold. Always wanting to help out others.”

He stares off into space, recalling his daughter's bright eyes, halo of curls, and her wide grin. God he missed her. It’s only as he’s telling you this does Joel realize that he doesn’t really have a life outside of Sarah. She’s not at the age anymore where she needs constant care, she’s independent and living away from home. The only people he really sees regularly are Tommy, when he deigns to drop by the house, or when they work jobs together, and the guys on his team. But outside of work? He doesn’t really do much of anything or see much of anyone. It dawns on him that he leads quite the obstinate life.

“You mentioned she’s away at college?” Your question pulling him out of his placating thoughts.

“Yeah, she started last semester. She comes home when she has breaks and during holidays. It’s quiet without her around.” He isn't aware of the somber look that washes over his face, but you quickly pick up on it.

“I’m sure she misses you just as much.” You look at him earnestly and give him a small smile.

He scoffs, “yeah right,” leaning back into his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. “She’s living that freshman life. Classes, studying, partying,” he adds the last part hesitantly, with a bit of a bite. “She ain’t thinking about her old man too much.”

Clicking your tongue, you give him a reprimanding look. “You keep saying you're old Joel but that’s a fat lie.”

He goes to interrupt you but you hold your hand up in front him. “I saw your driver's license back at the dispensary Joel. You’re not old. Just because you’re over 40, doesn’t mean you’re a fucking fossil. C’mon.”

Seemingly accepting that he won’t be able to win this argument with you, he huffs and smirks, his arms still crossed over his chest.

“Whatever you say darlin’”

At that, you bite your lip and look down. The small terms of endearment fluster you. He likes seeing you flustered.

You pull your phone out of your pocket to check the time, and he feels himself deflate at the notion that you would have to go and that this night would come to a close. He hopes that you won’t tell him that you have to go. Already anticipating that disappointment he clears his throat and starts to stack the garbage on top of your tray.

“I’m pretty stuffed after the burger. Wanna walk around for a bit? See what else is around here.” You bite your lip, gauging his response.

Trying not to sound overly eager and excited, he smiles. “Yeah alright.”

No less than 30 minutes later, he finds himself strolling beside you around the perimeter of the festival lawn, a cup of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream in his left hand, while you both take turns scooping spoonfuls.

The tips of his fingers prickle from holding the frigid paper cup as he hums around another spoonful. “Chocolate chip cookie dough is okay, but I still think maple pecan is better,” he grumbles.

You groan. “Ugh, I’m not getting into this again Joel,” glaring at him out of the corner of your eye as you lick the back of your spoon. “I was trying to give you the benefit of the doubt with the whole old man thing but maple pecan is an old man flavor. Sorry not sorry. You might as well suck on a Werther’s candy”

“Jesus,” he scoffs. “A Werther’s original? Why don’t I just put on some suspenders, get some bifocals, and sit in the park with the paper every morning.”

“Mmm, you never know. I think bifocals would really suit you,” Your tongue pokes the inside of your cheek. Giggles bubbling up in your chest, while Joel shakes his head.

“I’m just saying, even plain vanilla would have been a better choice. A redeemable choice. Maple pecan is almost as bad as..” you wrinkle your nose while thinking of a comparison, “rum and raisin.”

Just as you go to scoop another spoonful out of the cup, Joel stretches his left arm up and back behind him, holding the cup out of your reach. You don’t bother to jump up to reach the cup as He shamelessly enjoys the sight of how he dwarfs over your tiny frame.

“Hey! Joel-”

He says your name in return solemnly, but the corners of his mouth curl upwards ever so slightly. “You take that back right now. That’s a classic.”

“It has raisins in it! You can’t be serious! Dried up grapes have no business being in ice cream man, it’s criminal.” You huff out a breath and look up at him in exasperation.

“Didn’t know you were so passionate about ice cream.” He has a shit eating grin on his face at this point. Completely enamored by how cute you are when you’re annoyed. He can’t help but tease you a bit more.

“You know I was havin’ a real good time tonight darlin’ but that’s my last straw.”

Rolling your eyes, you smirk. “Just like that huh? You’re stone cold Joel Miller. Alright then, but good luck finding another smoking buddy who can teach you really cool tricks”

At that, he relents. Dropping his arm back down to his side.

“Smoking buddy?”

You’d want to smoke with him again?

The term you coined has his mind melting into mush, and his stomach doing flips at the possibility of seeing you again.

“You’d wanna do this again? I mean- you'd want to smoke together?” He asks pensively, his amber eyes rounded as he looks down at you.

“Yeah,” you peek up at him through your lashes. “Why not? I’m always down to smoke. Plus I still gotta teach you how to roll your own joints, and maybe how to do some tricks as well.”

Winking at him you add on, “save you some money so that you don’t have to keep coming to the dispensary for your pre rolls.”

He presses his lips into a thin line before he can spit out the Pavlovian response on the tip of his tongue. Joel knows he would have come to the dispensary anyway to see you, regardless of if he was going to buy anymore weed. Hell, he would use any excuse he could to see you again. But he decides against telling you that.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, and licking his lips, his mouth opens slightly as his gaze dances across your face. From your eyes, down to your lips, and back up again. You’re so close. So close he could reach out, curl a finger into one of your belt loops, pulling you closer until your bodies are flush.

“I’d really like that darlin’”

You tilt your head and gaze up at him. “Good.” You glance briefly at your phone and frown. “I do have to go now though. I’m opening at the dispensary tomorrow so I should get some sleep. As should you,” you give him another playful shove, “old man.”

He grumbles in response.

You exchange numbers before heading your separate ways, sending him off with a warm smile. The same smile you greeted him with when he first stepped into the dispensary and nearly had a panic attack. “This was fun Joel. Text me next time you wanna smoke.”

Pausing for sec and squinting your eyes in mock concern, you ask him “Wait, you do know how to text right?”

You attempt to bite back a laugh with no success as he swats at you like a fly, and you jump backwards, dodging the swipe of his big hands. “Yes little miss, I know how to fuckin' text.” He makes a noise of disapproval and narrows his eyes at you. "Cheeky."

You’ve only known him for less than 24 hours and you already know how to push his buttons.

Though he's not really annoyed in the slightest. He allows it. What's more is that he actually likes it. Really likes it. The playful banter and flirting that you throw his way, he’s more than happy to return it.

Your chuckles die down. “Alright alright, just checking, relax.”

You send him a quick text with your name, and his phone pinging right away.

“I’ll see you around Joel.”

“See ya around darlin’” He drawls with a grin as he watches you turn to leave.

There’s a pep in Joel’s step as he walks back home. Contentment mixed with anxious excitement. The effects of the high have faded quite a bit, and his head clears as he continues down the sidewalk to his house. He’s pretty happy. Unreasonably happy for someone who just spent the evening with a woman he barely knows. But he felt like he got a deeper glimpse into who you are. What’s more surprising is that he wants to know more. He wants to know more about you. Wants to do more things with you.

Do more things to you.

But again, he keeps that to himself for fear of ruining whatever is slowly building between you two.

Trudging up the porch stairs, he glances at his watch.

10:02 p.m.

He considers texting you to see if you got home safe.

No. He didn’t need you thinking he was a desperate creep. As he crosses the threshold and closes the door behind him, he leans back against it, his head thudding against the wood.

Just then, he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket, the familiar ping sound resounding through the empty front hallway of his house.

[You]: “Hey! Just wanted to make sure you got in okay, seeing as it’s much past your bedtime 👴🏼”

Huffing out a chuckle, he rolls his eyes and tries to ignore the flutter in his chest that you texted him first. His fingers fumble as he squints at the screen to type out a response.

[Joel]: “Could say the same for you. What happened to getting sleep because you work early tomorrow?”

He could leave it there and just see what you say. But the excitement from the evening as well as simmering current of lust running through his body has him feeling bold. He wants to push a little bit more.

[Joel]: “Naughty girl.” He bites his lip before hitting send.

The three little dots appear and reappear a handful of times as you start to type and then stop.

Shit. Was that too far? Did he just fuck up any chance he had at seeing you again because he has no self control? Probably. It was so hard to restrain any sort of control when you made it so easy to tease back. Your playfulness and doe eyes are a wicked force to be reckoned with, and it only made Joel want you more.

Waiting for you to text him back and tell him to fuck off, or politely shut it down, his mouth gapes open when you do finally respond.

[You]: “Never said I was a good girl 👀”

He exhales harshly. “Fucking hell.” His fingers tapping furiously as he sends the next message.

[Joel]: “That so? I don’t believe that. You’ll have to prove me wrong next time darlin.”

Your response comes lightning fast. Nothing else aside from a series of suggestive emoji's.

[You]: Goodnight Joel 😈 🍃 🔥 💨

Joel clenches his jaw and exhales deeply. He shoves his phone back in his coat pocket, and rubs his hand over his face.

What has he gotten himself into?

#weedpaw #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us hbo

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dejasenti99 · 6 months ago

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hi hi, could you maybe show us how to render skin in Blender or make it look a bit realistic? When i import my Sim into Blender it doesn't look like it should, it's texture isn't really good. Or do you know any good tutorial? Hope you can help me out<3

hey babes! :3 this got kinda long bc i ended up writing a tutorial so i put it under a readmore lol as usual anyone can dm me if they need more help

so first off if u dont have this setting enabled on simsripper, definitely turn it on

it makes a huuuuge difference.

i render in eevee nowadays so i also make sure to check ambient occulsion on so i have sexc shadows

and these are my node usual settings for that look of pores/gloss my sims faces/bodies have it is MAGIC

to do this you have to separate the eyes from the head/the body parts from the top and bottom meshes, which can be done in the UV editing tab

this is what it looks like when u go into the uv editor after selecting the head mesh

click those little arrow guys so it looks like this and u can select the eyes part of the head

hover over the other window (the viewport thingy where u can see ur actual sim) and hit the P key, then hit selection and itll separate the two! this is suuuuper useful its how i add varying texture/shine to clothes n shit and u can even delete parts of meshes u dont like if the texture cooperates

i feel like there may be a better way to do this?? but back over in the layout tab ur gonna go to the materials section

and hit that little minus so that the material thing goes away. it doesnt matter which part u do this on(the head mesh or ur new eye mesh) it just unlinks the textures so u can edit them separately

hit new

and then i usually go to another mesh that i havent messed w the nodes in and copy + paste them into this ~ new ~ material thingy u get it LAWL. so now it should turn from white to the normal texture and u can edit it at will! repeat one million times for everything u wanna change kjhkljhk

this is usually how my eyes nodes look

and again this is my head/body nodes like we saw before! the bump map is what gives it that look of pores its soooo sexy. u can get those by hitting shift + a and searching for color ramp + bump. obviously i mess w these settings depending on the vibe/lighting but yeah thats how i set up my skins for Realism!! :-)

ngl it was actually kurt tricoufamily that taught me this a whillleeee ago so thank him not me im just a thief

#anon #ask #wcif #maybe i should make a tutorials tab?#tutorialz

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sasster · 11 months ago

Text

Walking on Glass

And I do solemnly swear that this is the last set of new trolls I make for a long while.

So what’s the Colmea guy’s deal, anyway? [doc]

-- “Now you’ve really done it.” The child, and she can’t be more than five sweeps old, smiles around a juicebox from her perch. “He’s not going to be happy about this one little bit.” Her warning fills you with just enough dread that it roots you in place.

The he in question is, for the short time that you’ve known each other, very particular of the fungal colonies that throng throughout the lab like a great big web. Some of them in larger terrariums cobbled together and the others in their much smaller quarantines. He was more protective of these small quarantined batches than he was of anything else, even the aquarium that sits nearly ceiling to floor and across the back wall of the lab, housing a handful of species of jellyfish, with the largest, and need for such ample volume, being his overgrown lusus. Nemopilema nomurai, he once whispered into your ear when he caught you staring at her.

She is quite the daunting thing, with what must be a ten or fifteen-foot diameter and countless feet of long sprawling tentacles, tendrils, and tangles of some sort of marine fungus weaving around and within them. He never offered a scientific name or approximate for it, and to be fair, you never asked.

Conversations with the man always centered around his research, his precious colonies, that you’d been helping him with. The science he always mumbled, mostly to himself, was difficult to parse on a good day, on a bad day he stopped pretending to try altogether.

Your role, as far as he was concerned, as far as you understood, was only a very small part.

A collective consciousness. The only colony that survived the interaction with your mutation to the point that you started to become one. Once again, the science of it all was lost on you, something about parasitic symbiosis or some other, but the piece of it he’d gotten into you somehow took root and you’d found yourself actually talking to it.

Making decisions with it.

It was only natural you’d want to get a closer and better look at it, right?

“It was a mistake.” Is all you can manage, staring at the ground that almost glitters with the way the ambient lights of the tanks shine off of the glass of one of the smaller, now shattered, terrariums that litters the floor. Many of the stray shards lance through the colony in places that look fatal even to the untrained eye.

“It was a mistake.” She mimics, not quite getting the cadence right, but the road work is there, so there’s maybe a future in ventriloquism for the kid. “I think he’s gonna feed you to Big Mama.” She indicates the tank with the massive jellyfish in it, punctuating the thought with the insufferable sound a straw makes when it reaches the end of a drink.

Colmea couldn’t be that unreasonable, could he?

As if summoned, and you don’t think she sent for him, the door opens as soon as the fear creeps up on you.

There is a severe way that the doctor has about carrying himself, a stern expression attached to whatever it is he lets his gaze fall on. Right now that is solidly on you. The gravity of the situation and the weight of the girl’s words leave you incapable of removing yourself from the scene of the crime, after all. You’d only reached a harmless hand in to touch it, how could you predict this outcome?

“It was a mistake.” You whisper desperately as he fully enters the room, the picture of serenity, taking in the scene before him. He does not regard you or what you’ve had to say for yourself.

Even if the colony was not sliced through as it was, the abrupt displacement from its aquatic habitat would have done enough on its own to paint a grim scene, splattered across the floor like an abstract painting. He surveys the damage quietly, a ponderous god, visage poisoned by the blue and pink glow of the lights within neighboring tanks. Now his gaze flits about from shard of glass to shard of glass, as though looking for answers in the mosaic they make up on the floor.

Everything in the lab has become remarkably still, even the girl in the corner has ceased vacuuming the bottom of the juice box in favor of savoring the silence that smothers the room, deafening even over the bubbling of the surrounding tanks.

Colmea does not rush in, ready to collapse to the floor and mourn the loss of his experiment, instead he is carried further into the room by slow and deliberate steps, each one a soft tap against linoleum that crushes the glass beneath it. The answers to questions that he does not bother voicing slotting into his mind as he advances, and if those answers change any part of his expression, which you suspect it doesn’t, it goes unnoticed when his contemplative steps take him into the shadow of his colossal lusus.

Far too long passes before he is standing directly in front of you. Very briefly, a crack in his veneer provides a view into the ever-feared high blood rage bubbling beneath the surface.

“Myriad,” he addresses the girl, still up on her perch by the edge of the jellyfish enclosure. “The colony?”

Myriad makes a face like she is seriously concentrating, an expression you’ve come to understand means she is reaching into her mind to find her natural connection to the fungal colonies that surround her. Not as a member of the collective, but as an eavesdropper. Her game goes on for too long and it is clear that she is only playing up the dramatics, reveling in your dread, when the pensive god clears his throat.

“Dead as a doornail!” She reports, cheery as she was when she delivered her taunts moments before his arrival. It should hurt, but you already knew. You felt it, a part of you, die the second the tank hit the floor. “No survivors, wiped out!”

The ghost of something horrific crosses behind his eyes.

He nods.

His demeanor does not betray him and there is no warning when he strikes, just the stinging feeling left behind by a backhand that causes you to lose your balance. With a hideous crunch, your knees fall into the ruin below, the salty remnants from the enclosure mingles with the fresh wounds and sends a significant shock through your system. So significant in fact, that you make neither a move nor a sound.

Colmea shakes his hand loose, the anger that boils just beneath but never quite breaking the surface places a dangerous dose of malice behind his eyes.

“Myriad, find me a broom.” He commands, and as soon as it leaves his mouth, her feet hit the ground right behind you with a crunch that makes you wince. A stifled giggle followed by her plodding along tells you it was an intentional assault on her part.

His hand is wrapped up in your hair before the door closes behind her and he lifts you up to meet his eye line, all the while winding more and more of it up until he finds scalp, as though he is handling something that weighs about the same as a stuffed animal.

There is no growling, no deep orange eyes signaling danger, just a furrowed brow and a deep sigh. “I had such high hopes for you.”

“I,” you start to plead your case, tears welling at the corners of your eyes at the realization that your mutation did not make you special enough, but he does not give you the opportunity to continue. Instead, your face is acquainted with the glass of the aquarium with such force that it rattles the base of the enclosure and causes some of the smaller species of jellies inside to send off bright sparks of light, in hopes of startling whatever predator they assume has invaded.

All they really succeed in is disorienting you all the more, your face making contact a second and third time before stars start to decorate your vision and the edges begin to blur. Something cracks, and it is not the glass.

Still, the angered god does not growl or snarl. Nor does his reflection, warped by a myriad of things between the forming concussion and the glass of the aquarium, broadcast anything beyond his mild indifference.

Your face hits the glass a few more times before the girl returns from her quest and he finally relents, dropping you to the floor with a sigh. In the same moment, the stars in your vision become angry black splotches, eagerly rushing out to meet those blurred edges.

#colmea #myriad #long post #coko writes sometimes

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fisheito · 2 months ago

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fisheito sama one of the things i love about your art is the way you simplify forms and designs — something i struggle a lot to do so i try to learn with your art to focus more in the full picture than the tiny details that make me go nowhere because i get so lost ar the middle- anyways- if you were a youkai master i would love to be your pupil. your yakumo art makes me see sparkles. youre so cool. i will work hard to be as cool as you are. i would be more than happy to call you my master. my master in the art of making nu carnival art. thank you master 🙇‍♂️

who the heck in my inbox callin me -sama?!?!!?? maybe i am -senpai on my strongest most radiant day. MAYBE.

but yes i feel your sentiment and am very pleased to see you having fun with *gestures vaguely* whatever it is i'm doing here

reading this reminds me of my own struggle with drawing details... long thoughts ahead😦💭💭

every time i draw that angy dissatisfied voice From Within is shaaaaaaaming me going, "this is nuca. you know the art, RIGHT? you've seen the intricacies of the designs. part of its beauty is in its details. if you don't honour that, then how can you REALLY stay true to its spirit????"

and yes the art is HELLA cool and i really like it and it's got insane details that make things even more fun for the analysts in the crowd

even more impressive is the FANART because whOO seeing all these artists matching the skill of the source material?! hobbyists or whatevs drawin these fantastical gayboys in elaborate outfits and poses and everything you could dream of and more?? the anatomy! the colours! the careful attention to EVERYTHING! the hair strands and?? ALL FOR FREE? they are letting me see this for FREE ?????

so i can't help but feel a little inadequacy when i try to pull off the same thing

occasionally i'll try to draw.. idk. something similar to those magneefeecent elaborate fanarts,, or just as detailed as the original game art. ya know, the anime aesthetic really baked in there, but mixed with technical prowess!

i'll draw a pose. i'll try to draw several sections of hair according to actual gravity rules. i'll really focus on what they're wearing, and try to add the details of the shirt and-- oops, i forgot the 12-pointed necklace thing-- just put that in.. oh, shieb,it's connecte d to some sort of cascading sash -=um-- how is that fabric supposed to fold again? better look it up;; WAIT it's not actually fabric? it's ... A BUNCH OF TINY BEADS? what material are they. are they translucent? HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO REP{LIICATE THAT. p..pointillism? but then i...

[SEVERAL HOURS LATER. FAR MORE HOURS THAN I WOULD USUALLY SPEND] > me, not even finished the torso, slumped on the floor in defeat because every gem on the necklace looks too flat and i've forgotten the original intent of the drawing

sometimes, days later, i'll compare these attempts with my other drawings done in less time (the ones where i don't think too hard and don't bother with the details). and i'll find that i enjoy the simpler result anyway. ya think with all the EFFORT i put into the detailed one... wouldn't i jump thru mental hoops to justify my invested time? shouldn't i think, "oh yeah, i REALLY worked on this. it's not the best but i'm still happy with it. the time was worth it."

.NO???! I end up thinking, "that time was NOT worth it. i feel more fulfillment and joy from the simpler drawing. if i can accomplish that with less effort, why would i bother with the extra stuff?"

i'm no workaholic. lower-effort doesn't necessarily mean bad,..... right? just.. incorporating all those jingly bits and WOWEE TEXTURE WITH THE BEAUTIFUL AMBIENT LIGHTING AND COLOURSs takes a LOT outta me. then, am i willing to put in the extra effort to really improve those areas and make em as nice as those top tier taiwanese artists on THAT section of birdsite?!?! ...... not realy.... it's not... worth it. for me at least.. i'd rather focus on facial expressions . and silly interactions.

(yes of course there are ppl who can do the silly AND the technical moodlighting extreme magnifico detailtastic everything else. MAD RESPECT!!! TO THEM!! FOR WORKING UP TO THAT!!!! but my goal is not so ambitious. i am but here for a laugh...)

so maybe i'm not the best knight for the job, if the job is Dick Fight Island-tier anatomy and environments (seriously if you haven't read that manga , you should. it is wild and truly respectable)!

but for MOI? wittle floppy ME? if i don't draw what i like, i won't have the energy to complete anything. You want me to put that extreme improvement-journey-effort into every drawing?

.Do y'all want aborted torso sketches with 62% of a necklace??? cuz that's how u get aborted torso sketches with 61% of a necklace.

anyway, if i helped you realise that maaaaaaybe you don't wanna focus on certain things in yo art ? and you'd rather put ur energy into an aspect u care about more? sounds good! i hope it leads u to increased-enjoy Creating 😎

#feesh answer #then i'll meet someone who's all #'i HATE drawing faces . i love architectural structures and the contours of different materials on surfaces. you're kinda wild to me ngl'#so. everybody got their preferences 😄#what would my yokaisona even look like? not as elegant as umi that's for sure...#wait is a yokaisona just a fursona?#is a fursona a fursona if there's no fur?#how does fursona differ from avatar... animal avatar... what if your familiar is just a smaller form of You...#are they your fursona familiar? just a familiar? a clone? a freudian section of your consciousness?#i lost my train of thought

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rottedleechboy · 1 year ago

Text

Miguel o'hara x Reader : Beg for me

Warnings: noncon, angry man, he's being a meanie and you broke his heart. Possessive borderline abusive?? 💀 The belt! whipping, blood. Cum eating Idk man yeah. Lol porn without a plot? Degrading, Gender neutral but leaning more fem (not edited)

You and miguel broke up, it was a messy. After all the fighting and screaming you were left voiceless as he stormed out of your appartment. Just like that it was silent. You didn't reach out and he didn't reach out. You didn't turn up to work anymore, opting to to find a new job away from the massive building crawling with spider people.

Although the breakup was tough you were getting through it day by day.

A new job definitely took your mind off it as well as some well deserved self care.

It was maybe two months later, you had just finished taking a shower, all cleaned up and feeling better.

All the skincare and self are treatments made you feel alot better after your less than ideal day of work. Lavender room diffuser on, favourite songs playing softly in your room. Comfortable fresh pyjamas? Check. Ambient soft lighting? Absolutely.

Heading towards the kitchen to make yourself a nice up of tea before settling in with a book for the night. As you make your way to the kitchen, the light flicks on only enough to illuminate the bench top. Sitting on a barstool was a silhouette all to familiar. You jump a bit not extecting to see him before composing yourself again. There he sat arms crossed, sitting in the shadows facing you.

"What the fuck do you want?" asking tiredly with a hint of frustration in your voice. The distain still as clear as day with emphasis on every word.

He just sits there silently "A hello would be nice", he's voice deep and threatening.

"what hello? You practically broke in my appartment" throwing your hands up in frustration. "what do you want?" glaring expectantly.

He doesn't speak as he stands up walking closer to you, backing you into the cold edge of the dining table. Not letting up, he presses his body up against you, his heavy body effectively pinning you against the table. Hands planted firmly against his chest pushing back doing almost nothing. Suddenly a rough grip lands on your chin, clamping harshly onto you jawline. "look at me", he demands coldly as he forces you to look up at him. He was always a bit of a arrogant dick. Reluctantly, your eyes trail up his chest untill you meet his eyes. "what do you want?" asking through gritted teeth.

Leaning in closer he whisper into your ear "I am going to make you beg for me back" his words sharp as you feel your heart thump a little but harder. Despite all his rudeness and stubbornness, it was hard denying the effects this absolute jackass had on you.

"fuck you o'hara ", the poison In your words dripping. The grip he has on your jaw tightens as he glares at you silently. The air is still and tense as a short glaring contest begins. After a few seconds of silence "alright, the hard way it is" he says with a threatening grin. Letting go he backs off ever so slightly. Confused you straighten yourself back up looking at him. Then in a split second he flips you around slamming you into the wooden dining table, pinning you down agressively. Almost feeling the bruises form as your pelvic region gets roughly shoved against the corner of the table. Struggling to no avail, he forcefully holds both of your hands behind your back as you lay on the table bent over. "miguel stop it" "stop" "what the hell let go" your protest falling on deaf ears. The rope like webs pinch your skin as they tighten. His knees forcing your legs to spread open unwillingly. "miguel what are you doing?" trying again to get an answer, only resulting in a harsher shove into the table. Moments later the unmistakable sound of the undoing of the belt reaches your ears and you look back as much as you can with your face against the table. "miguel please no, not like this, I don't want it" a tinge of fear taints your pleas as you try to get him to stop.

He responds with a slight chuckle "that's not going to work" he sings out tauntingly. His eyes dark with anger as he slides he's belt out griping it his other hand. Moving the hand on your neck down your torso holding you down on the table as he stands slightly off to the side, the belt up in the air ready to strike down. "I want to see your pretty little face cry, okay honey?" he says almost soothingly.

Roughly ripping your pajama bottoms off along with your underwear with his claws. A cool breeze hits your lower region. Before a sharp pain shoots through your body along with a harsh smack. Letting out a muffled yelp as tears already trying to force their way out of your eyes. "nothing?" he questions as he lands another sharp sting on your ass. Your breathing becomes heavier as you hold your tears back, thighs closing up out of instinct. "no no no, legs. Open" he cooes as he uses the belt to softly tap the inside of your thighs. When you keep them closed he lands another harsh whip which makes you immediately snap your legs back open as you bite down on your lip. "that's what I though" miguel spat out as he landed a few more harsh slaps. "do u want me to stop?" he asks softly. "fuck you miguel" you grit out as your voice cracks, the tears silently dripping onto the table. "suit your self" he says dismissively as he lands slaps harder and faster, not letting time for you to brace yourself again. Each sting shoot through you leaving heat eminating from your bum.

It's angry and harsh as each stroke illicits a small grunt as he exerts energy. All you can do is hold in your muffled whimpers as you take it refusing to beg. "oh what soft skin you have" he purred out as he sees your skin break from the impact. His hot tounge glides along the split skin sending shivers up your spine as he lick up the blood. At this point your legs are shaking in pain, body trembling. It's getting harder to breath as you choke on your own tears.

His whips are sudden and cruel, the speed leaves whooshing sounds in the air. Finally caving in "baby stop please" you cry out, "hmm? What's that?" he teases darkly as he lands more on your ass. "baby please no more it hurts", "honey stop it", "babe, babe I can't I don't want this" you cry out. All the endearments in your arsenal getting desperately thrown out. Your please only met with "beg like you mean it whore". The blood is dripping down your legs as more skin breaks from the blows, you hate to admit this but you are also dripping from excitement, a part of you liked this despite the other half of you protesting. He let's go from pressing your torso to the table opting to swap hands with the whipping using his full force. It's a bloody mess and he's enjoying seeing you writhe in pain. Screaming and pleading for mercy.

He roughly yanks the back of your t-shirt letting you fall on the floor with a thump, unable to balance yourself with trembling legs. Roughly gripping the back of your head with a fit full of hair, he lifts you up onto your knees, back arched, bloody and bruised ass up as he shoves your tear stained face to the floor. Staying there in that position as he let's go, being too tired and exhausted from screaming, crying and begging. "lick and beg for me back" he spits out. As he told you beg and plead "please I'm a stupid slut, I'm nothing without you" you beg as you kiss and lick his boots inbetween pleas. Desperately like a dog eager to please their master.

The sharp and distinct sound which indicates the camera is recoding rings through the air as miguel stands there with he's phone recording, a smug smirk on his face "keep begging" he demands like he's oblivious as to why you stopped.

The blood, drool, wetness and tears mix on the wooden floors. "come on you can do better than that" he taunts as he taps the belt against your cheek, finally landing a harsh strike across your face. More tears spill from the shock as he lands another on the other side of your stunned face. You are angry, tired, throbbing unfortunately despite wanting to hate him. Wiggling up on your knees pressing your face into his thigh you grind on his wet boot mouth open as if you were sucking invisible cock. Begging for his as you drool and cry, making incorehent strings of pleas mixed with almost porn like moans and whimpers. Your previously innocent look in your eyes replaced with submission and needyness. He just stands there filming, ocassionaly rubbing his boot against you making you whimper a bit more. "you don't deserve my cock, you know? Your not worth it" The sloppier you are the more he knows you are close. Untill finally your eyes roll back in extacy as you choke on your own pleasure. Your fluids mixing with the mess that's already on the floor.

He just wordlessly shoves you off his legs as you lay slumped on the floor. He just films you and your mess, your tear stained face.

He picks you up roughly by the shirt like a animal getting carried by their parent as you dangle. Moving you to the couch, bent over, he aggressively opens your legs, filming your holes, spreading you open for the camera to see. He tears your t-shirt off leaving a burn mark around where your collar sat as he snatches it off quickly. Chucking it to the side. "look at this worthless slut" reaching around roughly shoving his fingers in your mouth covering them in spit before going back, shoving his fingers in you, opening you up, pumping his digits in and out as you let out soft tired moans.

The exhaustion is overwhelming as you lay bent over the couch body limp. "I'm going to use you like the fucking fleshlight you are" he growls as the shuts off the camera chucking his phone on the opposite side of the couch.

Before you register anything he's already roughly shoved his fat cock inside you, not giving you time to adjust as he slams against you. The pain making you scream out for him to stop as his hips smash into your tender ass. He ignores you, lifting you up choking you in his biceps as he gropes your chest. It's fast, as he pounds into you mercilessly, his breathing heavy.

All you can manage to do is to cry out for him, it feels like you are getting ripped in half as the pain shoots through your torso.

He keeps going even though he's shot his thick warm cum into you multiple times, feeling it slug down your thighs over the now crusted up blood.

It becomes sloppier as you feel him become tired, his choke hold still firmly around your neck.

You feel him slip out after his final load and a few more pumps. The throbbing is warm as cum leaks out of you as it drips onto the floor with muted impact. Miguel gets up his breathing heavy as he smacks your ass on more time. He sticks two fingers in your cum filled holes, curling them a bit like a scoop till there was a decent puddle of cum sitting on his digits. Then holding them to your face. "eat it" he says sternly with a twinkle of amusement as he watches. Opening our mouth up obediently you lick and suck the cum on his fingers up swallowing every last drop like you were starving. Wiping on his drool covered fingers in the fabric of the couch.

Freely walking into your bathroom to clean himself up as he leaves you naked and tied up over the arms of the couch. The pulsating heat downstairs slows down agonisingly gradual, before the emptyness of not having him sets in.

He walks back out a few mins later it's silent as he makes his way over to the couch in a leasurly stroll picking up his phone and playing back the recording of you for a bit before shutting it off with a satisfactory nod. The sounds of yourself make you want to cry more, the tightness in your chest welling up as you try to recollect the events of the past hour or four.

He just sits down on the couch, you are too tired to move, arms till tied up behind your back. Placing a warm hand on your cheek before softly stroking your hair softly. A stark contrast from before. It feels nice but the circumstances stop you from letting yourself melt into his affection completely. "If you try to leave again, you know the concequences. Okay honey?" his voice chillingly normal as he uses a thumb to wipe the hushed tears away.

A/N: uhhh yeah lol idk but hope some of y'all enjoyed. I need him so fuck NG bad 😵‍💫

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