#no the way i just realized the Move at the beginning like i'm shoving everyone away on the dashboard to show you this song about me & my bf

[feralhoneybee]

move

this is my brain when i see my boyfriend 💜🥰💖

[punkshort]

i know who you are | 2. the journal

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Your memories still remain out of reach, so you ask Joel to tell you a bit about yourself, and with the help of a journal you kept, you begin to learn more about the person you became in the past ten years, leaving you with more questions than answers.

Chapter Warnings: language, eating, alcohol use, angst, pining, sad!Joel, amnesia

WC: 6.3K

Series Masterlist

"Did'ya get any sleep?"

You glanced up at Joel as you walked side by side towards the dining hall.

"No," you admitted, looking straight ahead again.

After Joel left you in his - your - bedroom, instructing you to rest on his way out, you found you could do anything but. Your mind was spinning with all of the information you had just learned, and you weren't sure which topic consumed you more: the end of the world or the supposed love of your life.

The longer his words set in, the more you were finding it difficult to look at him. It was such a strange feeling, having this large, burly, gruff man proclaim his love for you, to say he would stop at nothing to make you feel the same way, to insist you were meant for each other. It seemed so out of character, though you hardly felt like you knew him. But even now as you walked down the street, you noticed how some of the people in town glanced at him. Moving quickly out of his way.

It wasn't just you who found him intimidating.

You were distracted as you walked, curiously peering into storefronts and repurposed buildings when a group of children playing a game of tag nearly ran into you. At the last moment, Joel tugged your arm, pulling you into his side just in time. The children seemed to realize their mistake because their laughter quickly stopped and the smiles fell from their faces as they looked up at him.

"We're sorry, Mr. Miller," a young boy no more than eight years old said.

Miller. You never even bothered to ask his last name.

Joel just grunted and they scurried away, no doubt eager to escape his glare. You chanced a look at him, studying his stern expression when you realized he was still holding you against him. He was warm. Warmer than you expected. And solid. You cleared your throat and stepped away from his grasp, muttering your thanks and glancing around the busy street to avoid the disappointed look in his eye when it became clear you weren't comfortable with him touching you.

You shoved your hands in the pockets of your jeans and continued to walk in silence down the main road. A few people shot you curious looks or did double takes as they walked by, and you had to assume if Ellie heard the news about your accident, then others had, as well.

The Tipsy Bison came into view at the corner of the street, made obvious by the large crowds of people gathered outside.

"Does everyone have to eat here or are you allowed to have food in your homes?" you asked him, and he looked down at you, surprised by the question.

"We got food. It's not like a prison or somethin'," he said with a chuckle. "Most folks like to come here to socialize, but sometimes we cook dinner at home," he stopped short when he realized he never asked you what you preferred. "Did'ya wanna stay home instead?"

"No, this is fine," you told him over your shoulder.

"You sure? Maybe it's too much right now," he replied, jogging a bit to keep up.

"I'm sure. You won't leave me, right?" you asked, looking at him nervously.

"'Course not," he said, trying to hide his grin. He liked that you wanted him around, even if it was only because you didn't know anybody else. It was a start.

When Joel swung the door open, holding it wide so you could enter first, it might have been your imagination but you thought the loud chatter simultaneously died down for a split second. Then Joel stepped in beside you and the volume rose once again.

You wanted to look around and take in the rustic atmosphere but you could feel the eyes on you as Joel led you through the crowd, the scrutiny making you feel extremely out of place, so you kept your gaze pinned straight ahead. Following dutifully behind, you watched as people automatically moved out of his way, like he was Moses parting the Red Sea, until he reached a table in a somewhat quiet corner of the dining hall. He pulled out a chair and stood behind it, his hand still resting on the back, and it took you a second to realize he was waiting for you to sit so he could push it in. You quietly thanked him then finally looked around the room.

The dining room had tables scattered around, and as far as you could see, they all appeared to be taken. People were standing in groups, drinking and laughing and eating and you wondered how in the world your table wasn't taken. You were about to turn and ask when an older man approached your table.

"Hey guys," he said, pulling out a pad of paper from his pocket. "What'll it be?"

You went wide eyed for a moment, looking around trying to figure out what your choices were when, much to your relief, Joel spoke for you both.

"Still got any of that stew left?"

"Sure do. Few guys got lucky earlier today, too. Got two deer, so we'll be havin' more soon," he replied, jotting something down on his paper. "Two whiskies?"

Joel was about to nod when you spoke up for the first time.

"Just water for me, thanks," you said, and the man nodded his head.

"Thanks, Seth," Joel said as he walked away.

You glanced at Joel quickly, awkwardly catching his eye. It felt too much like a date. Dropping your gaze to the table, you tried to think of something to say.

"Probably a good idea, skippin' alcohol," he said. "Didn't even think about it, what with your head and all."

"Yeah," you said, your hand coming up to gently touch the stitches. "Besides, I don't like whiskey, anyway," you added. Joel laughed softly as he watched you shift nervously in your chair.

"What?" you asked with a frown.

"Nothin'," he replied, still staring at you in disbelief. "Just ever since you got here you've been tossin' back whiskey better than most of the men. You must've gotten a taste for it at some point."

"There's no way," you said, scrunching your nose when Seth put down Joel's glass in front of him. He stared down at it wistfully, swirling the amber liquid in the glass, lost in thought.

"Whiskey's how we first met," he said softly, still staring at the glass. You tilted your head towards him, waiting for him to continue. "When you first arrived, you were like a caged animal. You came here lookin' to blow off steam," he said with a distant smile. "It was a slow night. Just you and me and a handful of others. You were tossin' that shit back like it was nothin'."

You watched him as he reminisced. His eyes shone brightly and a small smile played on his lips, it almost felt like you were intruding on something special.

"When me and Ellie first arrived, no one really went outta their way to talk to me. I preferred it that way. Was used to bein' on my own," he continued, looking up at you now. "But that night, you sat down next to me at the bar like you had been waitin' for me or somethin'. You asked me if I was drinkin' for fun or drinkin' to forget. Those were the very first words you said to me."

You were completely silent as he spoke. The way he told it, it felt like you could see the scene playing out right before you, the way he remembered every detail left you in awe.

"What did you say?" you asked a little breathlessly.

The corner of his mouth twitched and he looked down at the table.

"Drinkin' to forget."

You waited for him to elaborate, but when it became apparent he wasn't going to, you asked him another question.

"Then what happened?"

He raised his eyebrows and hummed, a slow smile stretching across his face before he answered.

"You told me you could help me have fun and help me forget," he said, and you could feel the heat instantly flush your cheeks.

"Oh, my god," you murmured, covering your mouth, utterly mortified. "Please tell me you're joking."

He shook his head, still smiling at the memory. You glanced around the room, trying to look anywhere but at him.

"So then, did we...?" you trailed off, gaze still fixed on a spot on the wall.

"Oh, yeah. 'Course we did. I'm no saint," he chuckled.

"Jesus Christ," you said, burying your face in your hands. "That doesn't sound like me at all."

"It's not. Well, not anymore. You had an edge to you when you first arrived. Most do. Survivin' out there does that to you," he said, taking his first sip of whiskey.

You sat in silence for another minute, contemplating asking him what he knew about your life before you met him, but ultimately deciding against it. Maybe another time.

"Where's the bathroom?" you asked him, and he pointed down a small hallway near the bar. You thanked him, his eyes trailing after you as you made your way through the crowds, only dropping his gaze once you were no longer in view. It was a strange thing, recounting stories for you like that. At first, the memories made him smile, but once he saw the lost look on your face he felt the sadness creep back up, settling deep in his chest, and he wondered if he would ever get you back.

You knew you were in the bathroom too long. You knew he would likely be worried, but you just couldn't stop staring at your reflection in the mirror after you washed your hands. Who was this person staring back at you? She looked older and weathered and tired. Your fingertip gently prodded at the bags under your eyes and then a small scar on your chin. What happened to you out there to make you the person Joel was describing? What did you have to do to survive? And did you really want to know the answer?

The door swung open, startling you as three girls around your age entered the bathroom. Their giggles stopped when they saw you and you watched them exchange glances in the mirror before a pretty girl with long, blonde hair greeted you by name. Turning around, you gave her a smile, hoping they would go about their business so you could slip out of there, but of course the pretty girl wanted to talk.

"We heard you had an accident, are you okay?" she asked, and she sounded sincere, but something about her smile made you think twice.

"Yeah, got a few stitches but it should be fine," you said, your eyes flicking to the other two girls, giving them each a smile. They looked at each other and smirked before heading towards the bathroom stalls, leaving you with just the blonde.

"So, is it true? Did you really lose your memory?" she asked, her voice low as if it were a secret, and finally you were able to pick up the vibe. You had been to high school before the outbreak. You had encounters with these types of girls before. Friendly to your face, vicious behind your back.

"Uh, yeah," you admitted, and she gasped as if she felt bad, but you saw the way her eyes lit up.

"So you don't remember, like, anything?"

"Well, I remember before everything went to hell," you told her, "but I don't remember this place, no."

"Oh, wow," she said, and you heard the toilets flush before the other two girls exited the stalls, grinning conspiratorially at the blonde. "So you don't know anybody here?"

You shook your head, feeling uncomfortable with the line of questioning at this point. What was she really getting at?

"That must mean you don't remember Joel, right?" one of the girls at the sink piped up. You looked at her briefly over your shoulder and shook your head, turning back to the blonde but not before you caught the look in her eye.

"Oh, that's too bad," she said, giving you a pout. "Does that mean you aren't together anymore, or-"

Suddenly, the door swung open and Ellie stormed in. Her hard gaze drifted around to the three girls and she gave them a look of disgust.

"Scram, vultures," she told them, and the blonde made a face at her before flipping her hair over her shoulder and heading to one of the stalls. Ellie called your name and you scurried over, allowing her to lead you back out into the dining room but not before she gave the other two girls a few choice words.

"Don't talk to them, they're nasty," she told you as you weaved your way through the crowd. Joel's eyes instantly found you once you were in view and you saw him straighten up in his chair.

"You okay?" he asked, and you could see the genuine concern in his face as you sat down. You were about to answer when Ellie plopped down on the other side of him and spoke first.

"Angie and her little sidekicks cornered her in there," she explained, rolling her eyes. "Already sniffing around for scraps."

"What do you mean?" you asked her, but just then Seth arrived with your meals and you never got an answer.

"Stew again?" Ellie asked, scrunching up her nose.

"It's good," Joel told her before taking a bite. You looked down at the bowl and you were inclined to agree with Ellie, but you swallowed the food down anyway, just grateful for something to eat after such a long day.

"Aren't you going to eat?" you asked her, noticing she hadn't ordered anything and instead was busy sketching in a journal.

"Nah, I'm going to Dina's later, I'll eat there," she explained without looking up.

"Who's Dina?"

"Oh, my girlfriend," Ellie explained, glancing up at you briefly. "Sorry. I still can't get used to this. It's so weird you don't remember."

"Don't be out too late. You got school tomorrow," Joel reminded her. Even though he wasn't Ellie's father, he seemed to have quite the knack for being a dad.

"Yes, sir," she said sarcastically, giving him a weak, two-fingered salute before hunching back over her journal. You heard some familiar giggles coming from somewhere behind you, and when you turned to look, you locked eyes with the blonde girl from the bathroom - Angie - who was holding some drink in her hand, her two friends flanking her sides as she strolled past your table. Her eyes drifted briefly to Joel before she passed by, then turned her attention to her friends, disappearing into the crowd.

"Who is that?" you asked, realizing you never really got much of an explanation. Joel and Ellie responded at the same time.

"Nobody."

"Joel's ex."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise as Joel glared at Ellie.

"What? She woulda found out eventually," Ellie protested.

"She ain't even an ex," he said, turning to you now. "Just a mistake I made one time before you even got here," he insisted. The tone in his voice made it sound like he was trying to reassure you there was nothing to worry about, but of course, the information didn't phase you.

"Okay," you replied with a shrug. He examined your blank stare for a moment, searching for a glimmer of recognition. The disappointment in his expression every time something like this happened was becoming too much to bear, so you dragged your eyes off him to glance around the crowded room once again. You found Tommy leaning against the bar and you stood up.

"Where are you goin'?"

"I need to ask Tommy something," you said. "I'll be right back."

His eyes followed you as you pushed your way towards the bar, his heart feeling like it was going to break. He wasn't exactly looking for you to have an overly jealous reaction to hearing about another woman from his past, but your casual indifference hurt more than he expected. When you first found out about Angie, you insisted you weren't jealous but the way you sneered at her going forward, combined with giving him the best sex of his life later that night told him a different story.

"You think she'll ever get her memory back?" Ellie asked, still focusing on her drawing. Joel sighed and dragged his hands down his face.

"I don't know, kid."

"What'd you need to talk to Tommy for?" Joel asked once you both arrived back to his - your - home. You had wandered into the kitchen, Joel hot on your trail.

"Oh, I just had a question about something I saw when we were out there today," you explained, and he raised an eyebrow for you to continue. "There were dead bodies when I came to. They looked all decayed and... subhuman. Now that you told me about the infection, I wanted to ask."

Joel watched you open and close cupboards until you found the glasses, then picked one out to fill with water.

"So you ran into some runners," he said, and you nodded. "Did he happen to mention how you hit your head?"

Your hand froze, your glass halfway to your lips as you considered his question.

"Actually, no, he didn't," you said, setting down the glass and looking up at him.

"Yeah, he didn't really tell me, either," he replied, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "When he told me you hit your head and you were havin' trouble remeberin' things, I just came runnin'."

Guilt washed over you yet again as you thought about Joel being told the news and how panicked he must have been. He practically ripped all the exam room doors off their hinges to find you, only to be met with a stranger when he finally did.

"Well, I can ask him tomorrow," you finally said, putting your glass in the sink to avoid looking at him.

"Yeah," he replied, trailing off a bit. He was still lost in thought, trying to remember Tommy's exact words when you walked past him towards the stairs.

"You're tired?"

"Well, it's been a long day," you told him, pausing on a stair to look back down at him.

"Right, 'course," he said, shaking his head and following you up. When you got to the doorway of his bedroom you paused, looking up at him. It seemed like he was struggling to say something, his mind working hard to find the words, but instead he just gazed down at you, brown eyes all wide and soft.

"Don't suppose anythin's comin' back to you yet?" he finally asked, and you hated seeing that look. That same hopeful look you kept seeing right before you opened your mouth and crushed him. This was hard for him, you knew that, but the way he kept looking at you was making things so much worse. The pressure you felt to become this person he was expecting you to be was overwhelming. You opted to drop your gaze to the floor and slowly shake your head.

"That's okay," he said, and you dragged your eyes back up to him. "Maybe tomorrow."

You gave him a small smile. "Yeah, maybe."

He sighed and glanced at the door to the spare room.

"You need anythin', I'm right next door," he said, hitching his thumb to the side and giving you a lopsided grin, but you could still see it in his eyes. The disappointment. The sadness. The yearning. And it was making you feel sick.

Just as he turned to head towards the spare room, you spoke. "Joel?"

And he eagerly swiveled back around.

"I'm gonna try really hard to remember," you said earnestly, looking deep into his eyes.

"I know," he replied with a sad smile. He gave you one more look before heading into the spare room and softly closing the door behind him.

Joel slept like shit.

No surprise there, really. He hadn't slept without you in years. He had hoped the whiskey would have helped, but he was wrong. His mind was racing as he tossed and turned, and by morning he had foolishly convinced himself that you would be back to normal after a good night's rest. He got up early and made coffee for the two of you, like he always did, then tended to the fire in the living room. The nights and early mornings were frigid, but the days were warm. The first sign that fall was approaching fast. He was just putting the poker back when he heard the bedroom door creak open upstairs and his heart jumped into his throat excitedly, but when you descended the stairs and locked eyes with him, he knew nothing had changed. He didn't even bother to ask. You didn't look at him the same way you used to. You used to smile and gravitate towards him, your hands always seeking out his, your eyes playful and loving, but now you looked at him like he was a complete stranger. Devoid of all affection, the only thing that remained was a forced politeness.

You said good morning and headed into the kitchen and Joel wondered how long it would take for you to come around. Less than a day ago, you looked at him in fear, but now you seemed at least comfortable in his presence. That had to count for something.

He must have looked like shit because when he joined you in the kitchen, you eyed him up and down curiously.

"Have you been up for a while?"

He shook his head and picked up his mug, taking a sip and hoping the caffeine would bring him back to life.

"How's your head?" he asked.

"Not great," you admitted, pouring your own cup of coffee. "It really hurts. I think whatever meds the doctor gave me yesterday wore off."

Without even thinking, Joel quickly closed the distance between you to examine your injury. You startled a bit when he came up behind you and lifted your hair, but for his benefit, you tamped down your reaction. His touch was surprisingly gentle as he gripped the nape of your neck to angle your head downwards in order to get a better look. You closed your eyes and held your breath as you focused on his fingertips pressing tenderly into your skin. You heard him murmur to himself, the sound coming from deep within his chest, and you realized just how close he really was. Aside from pulling you out of the way so the kids playing tag wouldn't knock you down, it was the first time he had really touched you, and he was so much softer than you expected.

"Don't think it's infected but let's go see the doc, just to be sure," he said, his hand still on your neck, his other hand pushing your hair away.

"Okay," you said quietly, finally allowing yourself to take in a shaky breath as you waited for him to release you.

As if he realized what he was doing, he let your hair fall back into place and let go of your neck, his fingertips lightly trailing down your spine before falling to his side, making you shiver and step away.

"Sorry," he said. "Should've asked to look first."

"It's fine," you told him, absentmindedly rubbing the spot on your neck his fingers just touched.

As you walked side by side to the infirmary, his stony expression slid back into place. Gone was the softness you witnessed in his home. His hardened gaze drifted around the street, then to the watch towers, taking everything in. Studying. Calculating. And that was when you realized there were two Joel Millers: the one who the rest of the town viewed as gruff and callous, and the one you saw in the kitchen that morning, soft and gentle.

You wondered how many people got to see the latter version.

Nick examined you again in the same room as before, but this time, Joel was there watching his every move like a hawk. You could practically see the tension radiating off Nick's shoulders as he moved around the room. He examined your cut carefully, Joel's eyes never once leaving his hands, confirming that it was not infected before parceling out ten little white tablets of extra strength Tylenol into a small baggie and advising you to use them sparingly as inventory was low.

"That's it?" Joel asked incredulously.

"You know how it is, Joel," Nick said, but you heard his voice waver when Joel stood up from his chair. "Meds are hard to come by, we gotta be smart-"

"She hit her goddamn head so fuckin' hard she's lucky she remembers her own name and you're givin' her Tylenol?" he seethed, and you could see his neck growing flush with anger again.

"Joel, calm down, it's fine," you said, sliding off the table. Turning to Nick, you were about to voice your thanks when Joel cut you off.

"It ain't fine. What's it gotta take to get somethin' that actually works?" he huffed, taking a step forward and making Nick shift his weight nervously. "She gotta be missin' an arm? Maybe if she hit her head hard enough to forget what fuckin' planet she's on?"

"Joel, that's enough!" you snapped with a frown, and much to Nick's relief, Joel instantly backed off. He turned and paced around the small room, his hand rubbing over his mouth as he tried to calm down.

"What about my memory? Is it a bad sign I haven't remembered anything yet?" you asked Nick, and Joel paused somewhere behind you to listen to his answer.

"Well, the brain is a tricky thing," he began, his eyes darting over your shoulder briefly. "It could be weeks, could be months. Without any imaging, I wouldn't be able to tell you much more than that." You nodded and swallowed nervously before asking your next question.

"Or never, right?"

Nick took a deep breath and looked at Joel over your shoulder again before responding.

"It's possible."

You heard Joel's boots squeak against the linoleum floor and without even looking, you knew he was anxiously pacing around again.

"Alright, thank you. We'll get out of your hair now," you said, turning to corral Joel towards the door.

"Regardless, I'd like to see you again in a few days so I can take a look at those stitches," Nick said, and you agreed while pushing a muttering Joel back out into the hallway.

"I'll get you better meds," he said as you both walked out of the infirmary. "I got patrol tomorrow mornin', but I can go out after. There's a small cluster of houses we never did a full sweep on. Maybe-"

"The Tylenol is fine, don't go through the trouble. You could get hurt," you said, shoving the baggie of pills into your pocket.

"Tylenol ain't gonna do shit. I don't want you bein' in pain if there's somethin' we can do about it."

You sighed and rubbed the back of your neck, trying to temporarily relieve the ache in your head until you could get home and take one of the pills. You gave Joel a sideways glance, studying him as you walked together. He was brash and rude and aggressive, but you were learning that side of him came out when he was being protective over the ones he loved.

Or when he was trying to hide who he really was.

"So, everyone pitches in around here, right?" you asked, trying to change the subject. "You do patrol. What do I do?"

You paused at a crossroads, trying to remember which way to go, when Joel's hand on your elbow guided you in the right direction.

"You work patrol, too, but you ain't doin' that anymore," he said, letting go of your elbow after holding on for a moment too long.

"Well, obviously. I don't even know how to ride a horse," you said with a snort. "So I guess I need to find a new job, right? Who do I talk to?"

"Why don't you slow down a minute?" Joel said with a chuckle. "Let that pretty little head of yours heal up before you go lookin' for work."

You weren't going to say anything about his comment. Although it took you off guard, you realized he had habits that were going to be hard to ignore and you didn't expect that to happen overnight, but he seemed to realize what he said on his own and awkwardly cleared his throat.

"Sorry," he said softly.

"It's okay. I know this is difficult for you," you said, shooting him a sympathetic glance as you climbed his porch steps. He swung open the door and followed you inside, where you made a beeline for a glass of water so you could take one of the pills.

"We got a lotta history, you and me. It's hard to start over," he said as he watched you toss back the Tylenol with a wince. You examined his face closely and pulled out one of the stools to sit down. You leaned forward, forearms resting on the cool countertop before replying.

"Tell me a story."

He raised an eyebrow at you but couldn't stop the corners of his mouth from turning up a bit.

"What kinda story?"

"A story about us. You just said we have a lot of history together. Let's hear some of it," you replied with an encouraging smile.

"You sure? Thought you'd wanna go lay down," he said, but he eagerly pulled up a stool across from you.

"I think I can handle one little story," you told him, then watched as he stared down at his hands on top of the counter, deep in thought. When he thought of one, a slow smile spread across his face and his dark brown eyes flicked up to meet yours and you saw that softer side of him again.

"Alright," he said, settling back a bit. "So I told'ya last night how we met."

You cringed, remembering the story of a much bolder and seductive version of yourself, and nodded.

"Well, after that night we started seein' each other for a few weeks. It was just casual, nothin' serious," he said, looking down at his hands again. "I convinced you to sneak around so no one would catch on, and you grew tired of that. Rightfully so. I was bein' an asshole."

You watched him pull at a loose thread on the cuff of his flannel shirt, his eyes still cast down and you were beginning to realize it was due to shame.

"So anyway. One day you came over to, y'know..." he said, and you felt the heat in your cheeks again. "And you confronted me about it head on. Demanded to know why I wanted to keep you a secret. Thought I was ashamed of you - which I wasn't," he said quickly, his eyes finally meeting yours again. "But I had been through a lot of shit and I just didn't think I could give myself to someone like that again."

"What kind of shit?" you asked quietly, but he just lightly shook his head.

"One story at a time," he told you with a sad smile. You chewed on your lower lip as you waited for him to continue, his focus back on the loose string while he collected his thoughts.

"So I explained I had a hard time lettin' people in, that I wasn't capable of carin' 'bout anyone like that anymore, and you said to me, 'I know who you are, Joel Miller. Don't give me that bullshit, you're just scared.'"

He stared into your eyes, letting what he said land and hoping to see a flicker of the woman who spoke those words, but you just continued to look at him, waiting for him to finish the story like it was about somebody else entirely.

"Well, you were right, obviously. You always are," he continued with a smirk. "It knocked me on my ass. And I didn't know what was more difficult to believe: that you knew me better than I knew myself, or someone like you wanted anythin' to do with me in the first place."

You smiled and dropped your gaze to the counter, suddenly feeling shy.

"I'm not saying I don't believe you, but so far, these stories don't sound like me at all," you admitted.

He took a deep breath and finally stopped fidgeting with his sleeve.

"A lot's happened in ten years. Stuff that changes people. But I don't care what version of you's here, I love all of you."

You kept your eyes glued to his hands. You wished you could say it back. You knew he wanted to hear it. Maybe one day.

He tapped his finger on the counter, pulling your attention up so you were forced to look him in the eye.

"You fought for me that night, now I'm gonna fight for you, okay?" he said, eyebrows raised as he waited for you to acknowledge him. When you nodded sheepishly, his shoulders relaxed.

"So you're saying I fell in love with you because you were an asshole?" you joked, trying to lighten the mood, and it worked. Joel laughed heartily and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Nah, you didn't love me then," he said, still smiling.

"So how did I fall in love with you?" you asked, and his tongue clicked against his teeth.

"You're gonna have to wait to find out," he replied with a wink.

It wasn't his fault, but the rest of the day you could feel Joel looking at you. He was examining you, waiting to see the woman he fell in love with, and the pressure was beginning to be too much, so you made up an excuse to go lay down in his bedroom. He had mentioned he had patrol in the morning. Maybe some time away from him would help you relax.

You stared up at the white ceiling. The distant sound of children laughing outside through the closed window and then the door to the garage swinging open and shut acted as a soundtrack to your overactive thoughts. You almost had to laugh. It felt like your mind was constantly working, churning up information and digesting it only to always come up empty.

Absolutely nothing seemed familiar. Nothing about this place or these people felt like home.

You wished so badly you could remember something. Anything to make you feel like you belonged there. One little shred of hope was all you were looking for.

And then you remembered the journal.

Sitting up in bed, you tucked your legs underneath you and reached over for the black book. You fingers hesitated for a moment on the cover. It felt like an invasion of privacy, but how could that be when it was your own?

Taking a deep breath, you flipped open the journal and began at the beginning.

Right away, you could tell you wrote the entries. There was no doubt in your mind. Aside from your handwriting, your typical disorganization shone through like a beacon on every page. You occasionally remembered to notate in the margin the date, or your best guess at the date, but more often than not you were left with very little context for each small paragraph you read.

You were disappointed to realize the journal seemed to begin after you had met Joel. A big part of you was very eager to learn more about the person you were before finding Jackson, but it seemed as though you would have to depend on others to tell you stories you hopefully had relayed to them in the past.

The first page looked to be a list of items you had jotted down that didn't make much sense, but maybe when you first found the notebook, you hadn't intended to use it as a journal.

Socks, colored pencils, sunflower seeds, cards.

Flipping the page, you skimmed a short paragraph about a cabin you stumbled upon when on patrol. Again, it was more notes than anything of any substance. A description of approximately where it was in relation to Jackson along with a note to 'mention it at the next town hall meeting'.

Finally something interesting on the next page, you read a short paragraph about someone named Maria having a baby girl, and you frowned when you read the line Joel handled it better than I expected.

Continuing on, you read an entry about Christmas: Joel found me the softest sweater, it almost felt brand new. I really don't know how he managed to find it and I described the house I grew up in to Ellie and she drew it perfectly, I can't believe how talented she is.

One paragraph in particular grabbed your attention. It was about two people, and based on the context, it sounded like you were close friends. For the first time since we got here, I had the same day off as Ben and Lisa. We went fishing together and brought a lunch. It felt just like old times. As weird as it sounds, sometimes I miss being out there with them. We made a good team.

Maybe this Ben and Lisa would be able to answer some questions you had about yourself. Based on what you just read, it sounded like they knew you before Jackson.

There was a lot more to read, but the next page stopped you dead in your tracks. Your heart began to beat faster as you stared at the four words. Just one sentence, no explanation. A shiver slowly trickled down your spine as you sat there, unmoving, as your vision narrowed on the page: Joel lied to me.

Please follow @punkshort-notifs and turn on notifications for fic updates ❤️

[ghost-in-the-hall]

Distract Me (Vessel x Fem! Reader) FLUFF

Hello hello! I finally managed to finish this request, even with a name change at that, thank you so much for your patience @theriseofshin ! We have some sweet and fluffy Vessel this chapter. Our reader is a little scared of storms and Vessel can't help but do everything in his power to try and comfort her. Lots of soft touches, awkward flirting, and Ves just being big and cuddly and sweet because I'm so soft for that man. I hope you enjoy! If you'd like to be added or removed from the tag list please let me know!

WARNINGS: None

My Masterlist! ~ AO3 Link! ~ Tip Jar!

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The afternoon sun was warm on your face, the faint scent of lavender drifting through the open window as you stood at your sink finishing some dishes. The TV played softly in the living room, the pretty blonde meteorologist tracing along the edge of a massive storm cell that was rolling your way. You sighed, drying your hands as you leaned against the counter; it looked like you were in for a long night. A gentle knock on your door drew your attention away from the screen. Your bare feet padded across the dark hardwood floor, slinging your dish towel over your shoulder. You stood on your toes to peer outside, the frosted, textured glass above your door muddling your visitors' form. You can't help but smile as you recognize Vessel’s tall, broad frame. “Well, isn't this a pleasant surprise?” You greet him sweetly as you open the door; your heart begins to pound in your chest as you feel him study you.

“IV picked a bunch of fresh fruit today. I wanted to stop by and bring you some.” He holds out the large container that was practically overflowing with various berries. You accept it with a soft ‘thank you,’ your fingers brushing over his during the exchange.

“Would you like to come in?”

“I would love to.” He responds a little too quickly; you hold back a laugh as you watch him cringe slightly at his actions. “I mean, if it wouldn't be too much trouble.” He adds on with a bashful chuckle.

“No trouble at all; I was just about to make some tea.” You nod for him to follow you inside. He ducks through your doorway, shoving his hands in his pockets as he curiously looks around your house. You couldn't help but watch him from the kitchen, smiling softly as you saw him delicately pick up whatever knick-knack had caught his attention, being as careful as possible with the fragile object before setting it back perfectly in place. Ever since the two of you met, Vessel had always held a special sense of caution around you, knowing how intimidating his massive stature could come off; everything he did was settled with a particular degree of care. You're snapped from your thoughts by your kettle beginning to sing.

You sat side by side on your couch, the breeze through the open windows sending a chill through your apartment. The trees danced in the wind, welcoming in the oncoming storm with open arms as dark clouds began to roll in from the distance. Your mug of tea warmed your hands, and a bowl of freshly washed fruit was set between you as you asked Vessel how things were back at the camp. “You should come back with me; I'm sure everyone would love to see you.” He offers with a soft smile.

“I would–” you were cut off by the sound of thunder rumbling, “love… to…” You couldn't help but let your gaze trail to the window, finally noticing that the storm was moving in much quicker than you or the weather channel could have predicted. You swallow thickly before turning your attention back to Vessel, you didn't have a lot of time left. “Um, but it'll have to be some other time.”

“Love, what's wrong?” He sits up from his reclined position, moving closer to you subconsciously when he realizes your nervous state.

“It’s stupid, Ves, promise.” You chuckle, your hands squeezing into fists at another growl of thunder. A warm hand comes to rest on your cheek, your eyes meeting the slits of his mask. His thumb trails across your skin, “storms just make me a little nervous, that’s all.”

You see him start to speak, but he quickly pauses, contemplating whether or not to say whatever has crossed his mind. “If you like,” he begins slowly, “I could always stay until it passes.” He offers, and you feel your pulse begin to race.

“I'd really like that, Ves.” You respond softly. You exchange a coy smile.

“I’ll keep you nice and safe, love, don't worry.” He teases with a soft chuckle, making your cheeks grow warm.

“Trust me, I didn't have any doubts in the first place.” He stands holding out his hand for you to take. He helped you shut all your windows, allowing you to collect your emergency candles and flashlights in case the power went out. You can't help but smile as you watch him organize what you had handed him neatly on your coffee table. “You’re sure you don't mind staying? This could go on all night; I wouldn't want to keep you.”

He hums, slowly striding over to you. “Let me think, go back to camp to spend the night alone in my cabin or to be curled up here with you?” He pretends to ponder over his options for a moment. “I think the latter sounds a little better, don't you?” He glances down at you with a playful smirk.

“You're sweet.” You respond shyly. Over the time you had known Vessel, the two of you had grown rather close; you were someone who he found himself slowly deconstructing the walls he had built up around himself for, and he was someone who you felt effortlessly connected to from the moment you met him. Although neither of you would admit it, through your growing friendship, something else began to grow out of it as well. After breaking through his cold, rigid exterior, you discovered that Vessel was quite sweet. It was in the little things you noticed: how he would always make sure to hold doors open for you, offering you his arm through rockier parts of trails on hikes, how he would absentmindedly comb his fingers through your hair as you lay together, reading outside. Everything about being with him just felt so right.

The two of you quietly prepared dinner together, Vessel humming along with the radio as he finished up the last few dishes. A smile spreads across his face as he catches your gaze lingering on him. You quickly dart your eyes back to the pan on the stove, your cheeks growing warm at the realization you had been caught. You jump slightly as you feel a pair of large, warm hands settle on your waist. “Smells good,” he remarks simply.

“Let's just hope it tastes good, too.” You giggle.

By the time you sat down to eat, the rain was pelting against the windows. As you look outside, you twirl your fork nervously between your fingers, the trees blowing violently in the wind. A bright flash of lightning exploded across the sky; you jumped at the sudden boom of thunder that shook the room. Vessel took your hand, his thumb soothingly running over your knuckles. “If it makes you feel any better, I'm not the biggest fan of storms myself.” You shoot him a playful, skeptical look. “I'm serious!” He exclaims with a chuckle.

“Sorry,” you respond with a giggle of your own, “I'm just surprised. I feel pretty silly about the fact I'm scared of thunderstorms-”

“You shouldn't be; it's cute.” He pauses as the compliment tumbles from his lips. You can't stop the bashful smile that immediately spreads across your features. Vessel tries to speak, but no words manage to find their way out. “I'm sorry.” He finally manages after a moment.

“Don't be.” You glance up at him, his shoulders visibly relaxing as your eyes land on the slits of his mask. You gently squeeze his hand, “I'm really happy you're here, Ves.” You admit softly. He studies you momentarily, noticing how you seemed to lean into him for comfort when the storm outside became too loud for you to ignore.

He states your name gently, tugging you closer by your hand as he straightens up from his reclined position on the couch. Your heart pounded in your chest as his lips hovered just a little too close to yours. “It's alright, I've got you, love.” He wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his chest as he shoots you a sharp smile. Your cheeks burned, and you were sure your heart was pounding loud enough he could hear it. You relaxed into his embrace, allowing your body to mold against his. Vessel’s thumb languidly rubbed over your waist, making electricity danced across your skin where your shirt had lifted up. “Did I ever tell you about the time III managed to get both of his boots stuck in the mud, so he had to walk back to camp barefoot?” You shoot him a confused look, laughter slowly bubbling up in your chest as you thought about how mad III must have been.

“No, I don't think you have.” Vessel holds you close as he does his best to distract you from the weather outside. Telling you whatever story he could think of that would make you laugh. IV dropping an entire pot of pasta on the floor, a bear making off with a basket of II’s laundry, the countless numbers of times Ves has smacked his head in a doorframe or a hanging light, anything to keep a smile on your face. “You need to be careful; you're going to end up hurting yourself one of these days.” You giggle.

“That won't be such a bad thing if I have a pretty little thing like you to nurse me back to health.” You playfully swat at his shoulder, making him chuckle. You hide your face against him, his hand gently cradling the back of your head. “I’m sorry, I can't help myself. You're absolutely adorable when you get all flustered.”

“Well, you definitely don't have any trouble accomplishing that, do you?” You glance back up at him through your lashes, a nervous yet coy smile reaching your lips. 

“What can I say?” He starts, his voice barely above a whisper. “I want to make sure you feel special.” Vessel swallows thickly, his hand brushing over your cheek as his fingers slide into your hair. You let out a small startled sound as you’re suddenly plunged into darkness. Panic immediately begins to bubble up in your throat as it becomes apparent just how bad the storm had gotten; the wind rattled the glass panels of your windows, the rain pelting against your roof made the room entirely too loud yet somehow impossibly quiet as the background humming of all your appliances had been cut. “I'm right here, lovey; I got you.” You're snapped from your thoughts by Vessel’s deep voice rumbling close to your ear.

“I'm sorry,” you apologize with a soft chuckle, your voice trembling slightly as you speak, “I feel silly–”

“There's no need to, sweetheart.” He reassures you, carefully cradling you against his chest. “It's a bad storm; there's nothing wrong with getting a little anxious.” He presses a finger below your chin, angling you to look up at him. “I guess I just need to do a better job of distracting you, hm?” His knuckle trails along your jaw, your hand fists into the soft material of his sweatshirt at another loud crack of thunder.

“Ves?” you state his name softly, you feel his lips ghost over yours.

“Yes, love?” He responds in a similar tone.

“Distract me.” He tips you back into the plush couch cushions, allowing a growl to slip past his lips. In an instant, Vessel ensnared every one of your senses; his large hands were warm as they gripped desperately at your waist, fingers skimming bare skin where your shirt had ridden up. His weight blanketed you, firm muscles pressing into the plushness of your body. The taste of sweet, herbal tea mixed with the slight bitterness of the paint that adorned his lips. You could feel the edge of his mask dig into your skin, your mind numb to the sensation as you found yourself unable to focus on anything besides the feeling of Vessel’s lips on yours. A flash of lightning lit up the room, glowing orange through your eyelids; a loud boom of thunder followed it. Vessel feels your grip on him tighten at the sound; he breaks away from you for just a moment to whisper sweet words of reassurance against your lips. “You're alright, sweetheart; I'm right here; I got you.” He keeps your focus on him, your lips buzzing as the two of you finally break apart for longer than a few seconds. Vessel chuckles, running a thumb over your tender bottom lip. “Sorry if I was too rough, I've been waiting a long time to be able to do that.”

“Same here.” You giggle bashfully. “And you weren't, I really like… I really like the way it feels when you kiss me.” You admit breathlessly. He continues to hold you close for the rest of the night, pulling your lips to his as a distraction whenever the weather picked up again. After a while, you struggled to suppress your yawns, the warmth of Vessel’s arms making your whole body melt into his touch.

“Let’s get you to bed, lovey.” He whispers, slipping an arm behind your knees to lift you from the couch effortlessly. You wrap your arms around his neck, sleepily pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you for staying with me, Ves.” He can't help but smile, turning to press a kiss to your forehead. He lays you in bed, carefully situating you under the covers. Your hand slips into his; he brushes some hair out of your face as he studies you with a gaze of pure admiration. “Do you have to go?” You ask quietly as if speaking too loud would somehow break your perfect evening.

“Not if you don't want me to.” You slide back across the mattress, gently tugging him into the bed beside you. He hesitates at first, thrown off by eagerness to have him beside you. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling your much smaller form on top of him. You tense slightly as a boom of thunder erupts from outside, the storm finally on its way out. You glance up at Vessel only to be met with a soft smile as he gently caresses your cheek. Without a word, he pulled your lips back to his, and suddenly, the storm outside didn’t seem quite as scary anymore.

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Tag List is in the comments below!

[sleepyboywrites]

@justkeepscrollingscrolling

Hey all! In case you missed my last post Tumblr updates ruined my life and asks no longer allow you to save as drafts and then update them. Since I normally don't write all in one session I have quite a few in my drafts currently that I have to get creative in actually answering so that you all still get notified when I get around to your asks. Moving forward I'll just answer in one go but for older asks (ones before I noticed/before the update) will be answered like this! Also I haven't written in a while so I apologize if it's shit.

Save a horse ride a cowboy

Masky knew you were raised on a farm. His favorite, albeit slightly teasing pet name for you was 'Cowboy' or 'Farm hand'. He's seen you carry corpses of fully grown men in one arm since joining the proxies. He had confronted you on multiple occasions how and why and you had replied. "I've hauled hay when our tractor broke and carried a newborn filly to the truck to rush to the vet after she wasn't walkin'. I can hold my own Darlin'." And he had been oh so kind to remind you who you belonged to for your lip and sweet farm boy ways. Yet he still sometimes underestimates your strength and in all honesty it's your own fault.

Play fighting and rough housing was nothing at all new. Mostly because Masky suffers from cuteness aggression and you, farm boy, are sturdy enough to handle it as well as dish it out. You two did it so often that if you didn't people assumed you were fighting fighting. On top of this you had a bad habit of letting Masky win because he's just so cute all smug on victory and everyone likes to be shoved into the couch face first by their partner sometimes cause being manhandled is just as fun as manhandling.

That is until one day, a really busy one, you didn't really have the time nor energy to let him win.

Masky had been extra annoying today. Poking and proding and shoving and basically all over you. Normally no complaints whatsoever but you had a shit ton you needed to get done. The list of cleanup tasks you were assigned today was two pages long and with your boyfriend attacking you at every turn in some form of cuteness aggression taking over and possessing him the second he saw your face, you getting fuck all done. Cleanup from the cannibals of the mansion plus the targets of the main proxies (because apparently scrubbing the remains of EJ's lunch off of the kitchen walls for three hours wasn't enough to deal with) had made for an unusually large amount of work for the sole cleanup crew member, you, and you were over it. So as Masky tried to tackle you in greeting for the fifth time today hoping to instigate you to wrestle him and to in turn win and coerce you to get a little 'closer', you just held your ground picked up the corpse in one arm, pried his arms off with a "Hold on Darlin' I have work to finish and I'm running behind. Later." And walked away.

Masky had stood there for a moment with a confused look on his face before the realization struck and he remembered his view of you and your 'softness' was heavily skewed. But once the shock disappears he became determined to genuinely tackle you. Stalking, lurking, and hunting you as you attempted to finish your work as Cleanup. He had proven himself to be quite the pain in your ass as you avoided his attacks and eventually lost him all together getting to finish the long list of tasks you had been assigned. You took a shower changed clothes and were scrolling on your phone on the couch when you finally sensed him again.

His vaguely pissed off and irked in general aura slowly approaching you from behind. You pretended not to notice that he's approaching and place your arms over his as he hugs you, clearly mopey, from behind. "Hm... So we're doing angry cuddles now, are we love?"

Masky didn't reply shoving his face into your neck, you could feel his intrusive thoughts to bite you, his hesitation to do so. Masky begins walking away from you and into the kitchen.

Without warning you chase after him and pick him up as he shouts and squirms playfully trying to escape your grasp and flip the script, "Look, I'm sorry I was avoidin' you, 'm not angry at you darlin, I was just overbooked on what needed done. Now quit your moping." You explained as you threw and pinned him to the couch. Masky going fully silent and still as you pin him down, giving you an odd territorial and excited look. "What?" You ask as he stares up at you, an eyebrow raised.

"Save a horse..." He replied looking you up and down. As it slowly processes in your head what he's referring to and you scoff and chuckle as you shake your head.

[junipers-archive]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚✧VALENTINES DAY CONFESSIONS

❥ James!potter x reader (You've had a crush on James for months now, he finally gets the nerve to ask you to be his Valentine, only to find you were on your way to ask him.) Word Count: 700

"Jus' don't know if she'll like it!" James was in the common room discussing his singular girl problem with his friends. "I mean we've been friends for a while, but I still don't even know if she likes me!"

Sirius who was languidly laying across one of the armchairs nearby rolled his eyes as he answered, "Your delusional if you don't see it."

"He's right James, she really does like you, laughs at every one of your bad jokes enough." even Remus had enough of his jabbering, most of their conversations almost always ended up with James bringing up your name.

He was blushing at even the mention of you liking him back, "What if she already has a Valentines though? What if she doesn't really like me? What if-"

"Give her the Valentine!" It was Pete, laying on the ground in a star-fished position, he'd almost drifted off into a sweet sleep before he was woken once more by James' worried voice.

He got up from the couch he'd been stationed at, quickly and quite bravely if he said so himself heading for the door. "Fine. But if I get my heart broken you will all be very sorry!"

As he left they all let out a collective sigh, they'd been attempting to convince him all week, maybe, just maybe if they could finally get you two together, they'd get some peace and quiet.

When James gets to you he's panting, having ran down several flights of moving stairs to reach you. You had come to the library to return some of the books you'd borrowed to study, he knew this since he was the one who offered to help you, just so he could spend more time with you.

"Y/n!" He tried to look casual, all the same hiding the gift behind his back as he approached your figure.

"Oh, hey Jamie!" you eyes were bright and your heart fluttered at his flushed cheeks.

"Have you got any plans for the day?" He was hoping your answer was no, so he could take you on a proper date, something you deserved.

"M'no don't think so, why?"

"W-well I was just hoping, since you're free, and its Valentines day..." your heart beat faster as he continued, you'd waited months for him to realize you liked him back.

"Well maybe you could, or rather we could, w-would you be valentine?" He swears you're the only to ever make him this nervous.

When he see's your pleased expression however he gets a surge of confidence taking out your gift and handing it to you, a beautiful bouquet of your favorite flowers accompanied by a small box of chocolates.

"Yes!" Your reply comes far too quickly, but you couldn't care less, taking out the small card and chocolate box you'd gotten him from your bag.

You shove it towards him as he gapes at you, "I-What-What is this?"

"Well, you were taking far too long, I mean I went to every one of your quidittch matches, pretended I needed help studying so you'd offer, laughed at every single joke of yours, godric I even went to your friends for help!"

"I never thought you'd like me!" He was bright red, how had he not seen it this entire time?

"Jamie I laugh at every single one of your jokes." You were exasperated, how had you fallen for such a sweet oblivious boy?

"Is that supposed to be an insult? Cause if I'm being honest it sounded-"

You stop his jabbering, placing the gifts on the table nearby and pressing your soft lips to his. Your heart melts as his hand comes to caress your cheek as if you're the most delicate flower in the world.

Because to him, you were.

When you pull back you're both grinning so hard your faces hurt.

"S'not and insult, just a fact." And it was, you would laugh at everyone of his jokes, no matter how ludicrous or ridiculous they were, you found him funny. And charming, and kind, and beautiful, and perfect, perfect for you.

"Well then, my Valentine, shall we begin our date?" He held out his arm as you smiled sheepishly at his name-calling.

"We shall."

[lizard-queen-izzy]

I'm actually not done thinking about it so here you guys get more thoughts.

Tma season 2 finale spoilers ahead.

Tim knew something was wrong when Jon apologized for everything. He knew Jon was going to do something stupid. He knew because he knew Jon meant that apology. And that meant he didn't think he was surviving whatever he was about to do. Because as desperately as Tim wanted and apology from him, he didn't want it to be the last words he heard from Jon.

He was willing to march back in to the Institute, with or without Martin to find out what Jon was going to do. He had no way of knowing what would happen when he did, and he still did it. And he brought a fucking the recorder to get it on tape. To make sure there was a record.

I've said it before, the beginning of season 2 from Tim's perspective is devastating, but having finished it now? It really only does get worse. Because Jon doesn't get better, but neither does Tim.

Their fight at the end of MAG 65 is such a parallel to their first conversation in the beginning of MAG 33! They're talking over eachother, they're muttering, they're cutting eachother off, they're yelling. They're yelling at eachother! Their calm back and forth is gone. Their patience with eachother is gone. It's all replaced with anger. At the situation, at the Institute, at eachother.

What starts as Tim coming in to ask Jon where he put something so quickly dissolves into bitterness. Tim being fed up with Jon's suspicious behavior, and Jon being tired of Tim's attitude. Jon tries to brush it off, tries to shove it back under the rug but Tim's exhausted. So he blows up. He's pissed, rightfully so, because Jon is still trying to find a way to blame someone in the Archives for Gertrude. To blame him.

He's grasping at straws, trying so desperately to twist the narrative to make it someone's fault. To pin the blame on someone so he can then get justice? He's rambling, he's spiraling, and Tim can't take it so he tells him to shut up. He stops him, cuts his explanation short. And tells him, point blank, to stop talking. He's sick of it, he's sick of Jon. Sick of his former friend blaming everyone around him for things they didn't do. Sick of him blaming him for it.

And Jon tries to start again, and Tim tells him to stop, to listen for once. He tells him he was happy in the Research department, and ever since Jon brought him to the Archives with him everything has been falling apart. And no one has his back.

"Elias doesn't care, Martin just wants a tea party, and Sahsa - ugh - and you! - you're treating me like I'm somehow to blame for it all, like I didn't suffer the worst right alongside you!"

Tim suffered. He suffered what Jon did, they were the most affected by the worms together. They are both irreparably damaged by the Jane Prentiss attack, mentally and physically. And Tim knows no one but Jon will get it the way he needs to be understood. He can't talk to anyone else. And Jon has made it impossible to talk to him either. Because instead of talking about it, instead of healing and working to move past it, Jon let it consume him all over. Let it swallow him whole and make him into a paranoid mess. And he's facing zero real consequences for his actions.

Jon was stalking Tim. Spying on and taking pictures of his flat. He was going through 'Sasha's desk. He was watching Martin. And all Elias did was stage one intervention style talk and then nothing. He just got to spiral even further, keep spying, keep replaying that damn CCTV video footage on a loop. Keep staring at Tim like he's the enemy.

And then they have a moment of common ground. A moment where they're both on the same page. When they realize they can't leave. And just when Tim thinks they're making progress, Jon tells him he can't trust him. Not just that, he won't trust Tim. And all they can do is, what? Keep working? In a building that won't let them go? Where everyday there's another disaster lurking around the corner? Where any of them could all be next? That's the only option?

And it is. And so he leaves. He goes back to work. Because he has to do something, and this is the only option.

And that's why he goes back in after Jon. Because if he can't leave, he's going to do something. He's going to find answers, even if it goes horribly. Because everything is already horrible.

And no matter what. No matter how mad he is at Jon. No matter how betrayed he feels. He still cares so deeply for him, and he needs to know what he's doing. Because he can't lose anyone else.

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Valkyria Chronicles? It's been a long time since I heard of that, thanks for the nostalgia trip you sent me on.

How about the squad 7 members when their S/O gets injured?

(Valkyria Chronicles) Welkin, Alicia, Isara, and Rosie's S/O getting injured

3 other friends and I have been playing VC2, and I've been replaying 1 and got reminded of my love for the game, thus their addition here.

Though absolutely startled to hear that S/O took a hit during the skirmish, Welkin tries his best to remain calm.

Welkin approaches the medical tent S/O is staying in and takes a deep breath seeing the bandage wrapped around them.

(Welkin) "Thank goodness you're alright..."

Before sitting next to S/O, he personally attends to every soldier that was injured as well, finally taking a seat next to S/O when he's done.

His mind is put at ease knowing they'd recover, but can't help but feel responsible for the injury since he ordered S/O into the position to begin with.

(S/O) "You don't have to stress about me y'know?...Ah, why don't you tell me about some of the animals you saw on the way here?"

LAST MISTAKE.

Now, S/O has to deal with the consequences of Welkin yapping their ear off about the type of fauna generally found in this area for an hour, getting his mind off their injury and onto his borderline-obsessiveness with nature.

Much to the dismay of S/O's other squadmates in the tent.

(Welkin) "-...and the type of beetles are also quite uncommon! They generally don't make themselves known until the spring and-...S/O?"

S/O was sprawled out on the bed with a drained smile, putting one hand on his shoulder.

(S/O) "Welkin...I think you should probably go to the debriefing."

(Welkin) "Huh?...OH! R-Right, I'll catch up with you later!"

Once he promptly made his exit, one of the soldiers next to S/O on the stretcher turned their head to them.

(Soldier) "Why did you have to ask him about nature?"

(S/O) "I...w-wasn't thinking..."

Alicia is absolutely stricken with worry the moment S/O's injuries reaches her.

Flying open the tent's flaps, her eyes scan the area before finally landing on S/O and rushing to their side.

(Alicia) "S/O! Are you alright?! How bad was the shot-"

(S/O) "W-Woah! Alicia, I-I'm alright!...OW!"

Alicia had grabbed their arm, and their wincing did little to calm her down.

(Alicia) "You call this 'alright'? If you had gotten hit any closer-"

She quickly goes silent when she realizes half the room was staring at her, making Alicia clear her throat.

(Alicia) "Apologies for disrupting the quiet. As you were, everyone."

With a quick salute she sighs and sits back down next to S/O, squeezing their hand.

(Alicia) "I'll be back with something to drink at least. Promise me you won't get hurt like this again, okay?"

(S/O) "As long as you promise to as well."

With a soft giggle and a final squeeze of their hand, she nods and leaves.

The moment she helps finishes the Edelweiss's repairs, Isara quickly makes her way to the medical tent where S/O was being held.

Isara sits next to S/O and brings them a canteen full of water.

(Isara) "Sorry I couldn't be here sooner, are you holding up okay?"

(S/O) "Yeah, just stings like hell..."

Isara's quiet laughter eases S/O, until they noticed some of the soldiers glaring at Isara.

She doesn't even have to hear them speak, Isara knows already what's got S/O trying to move out the bed.

(Isara) "First of all, you shouldn't be moving.-"

With a hand to their chest shoving them back in the bed, she shakes her head.

(Isara) "And secondly, don't focus on them. Just focus on me, okay?"

(S/O) "Darcsen or not, you're still fighting alongside us! They should-"

Isara's hand moved to S/O's and just holds it tightly.

(Isara) "Believe me, if they want to say something to my face, I'll have something to say right back...But thank you. It still means a lot to me."

S/O just sighs and nods, the pain of their injury mostly subsiding from their mind now.

Rosie would have kicked the door open if the medical tent was a building, instead the flaps flew wildly as she announced her presence.

(Rosie) "S/O, you idiot!"

S/O slumps in their bed as some snickering came from the other soldiers.

Though they were quickly silenced when Rosie closed the distance, gesturing for them to mind their own damn business.

Rosie crossed her arms and stood staring at S/O.

(Rosie) "How in the hell did you manage to get hit? What, were you just not paying attention?!"

(S/O) "Ugh, y-yeah. They caught me by surprise-"

(Rosie) "Next time, focus better on your drills! I'm not dragging your ass out of the fire if there's a next time!"

S/O wryly smiled and nodded, all the while Rosie just scoffed and rolled her eyes.

(S/O) "Appreciate the concern as always, Rosie."

(Rosie) "Psh, whatever."

Rosie at the very least grabs their shoulder tenderly...Before shaking it violently and startling S/O.

(Rosie) "Wipe that smirk off too. I gotta get back to cleaning my equipment."

[mediocreanomaly]

Amen. Priest!Wolfwood x Reader (NSFW)

**GN!Reader** Authors Note: I have an issue. Yes Priest!Wolfwood sparks joy, so please enjoy 4,539 of depravity as my welcome back, small note at the end!

**Content Warning: I grew up religious so I'm using real scripture here, if you're religious or that makes you uncomfy this might be a skip for you, if you're depraved like me read on**

Being raised Catholic was a one-way street to spoon fulls of guilt being shoved down your throat. Most everyone in the church was more or less aware of that fact, whether they acknowledged it or not.

However, there’s a warning they don't bother to put on the good book. A warning about the more...complicated relationship you develop with religion once the guilt that's swelled up in your chest has nowhere else to go.

"Then God said, 'Take your son to the land of Moriah and kill your son there as a sacrifice for me. This must be Isaac, your only son, the one you love. Use him as a burnt offering on one of the mountains there. I will tell you which mountain.” Church sometimes God ask things from us, things that seem...unimaginable, unbearable, but we are not lead blindly. No, quite the opposite, God-' " Father Wolfwood emphases by pointing to the rafters of the church as if the big man himself was sitting there, watching. "He has a plan, a plan so great and magnificent that we cannot begin to comprehend. With that understanding Abraham takes his son, because he trust, church, he trust God enough to follow-"

The sermon is drowned out. To anyone around you you'd look devout. Pious even with how well you focus on Father Wolfwood, but it's not the bible that makes you show up every Sunday. It's the dark black tousled hair that trails into stubble lining his cheek. It's those big brown eyes wide and confident as he preaches to the congregation. It's those hands, large and calloused, that make you wonder what life he must have lived before this as he moves them around with his speech. It's his skin, perfectly tan and forehead beading with sweat from the insufferable heat of the church, no doubt that cassock isn't helping. It's his voice, deep and raspy with that perfect cadence that makes you wonder what it'd be like if he said your name while bending you over-

"Y/n?" The altar boy who you didn't even realize had come to your pew ask. He's holding out communion in a way that tells you he's been there for a second.

"Oh! uh-" you reach out for the wine when a hand around your wrist stops you, you blink a few times and look up to see the man you were just ogling at meeting your gaze with dark eyes.

"Why don't you pass that out to the other pews, y/n is joining me for a special communion after church, they had something they wanted to pray on with me" Father Wolfwood says easily.

"I do?" the words fall from your mouth dumbly which causes Wolfwood to raise an eyebrow at you as if you're stupid. You let yourself swallow and bow your head as if scolded, you wonder what part of being a priest blessed him with so much sass.

"ah- right! yes I had forgotten, thank you Father Wolfwood" you correct. You had not, in fact, discussed anything of the sorts with the Father, but there was clearly something you were missing here.

He gives you a curt nod before softening his eyes and turning back to the young boy.

"Go on" he insist. He does, continuing to the next pew with all the confirmation he needed and Wolfwood finally let’s go of your wrist. The warmth of his hand that lingers isn't lost on you as you wearily glance up at him.

"Special communion?" You try hoping to gather a bit more information on the situation you'll be faced with after Mass.

"mhmm, God has called me to you. Something weighs on your mind, perhaps a repentance is in order?" his face gives away nothing, although you swear his eyes darken as he watches you with a pleasant smile that stays locked on his face.

Alarm bells ring in your head. Did...did he know? You had done your best to hide your less than innocent gaze as worship. Thinking back on it perhaps you were less conspicuous about it than you thought, that or God was the worst wing man ever.

"Father Wolfwood I-"

He holds up his hand to pause the word vomit that was about to stutter out and shakes his head.

"Later. Best to confess without prying eyes, no?"

He lets you simmer on that as he makes his way back to the front of the church. When he leads the church in prayer you do take it upon yourself to pray for once. You pray you'll sink into the floor or be struck dead before the end of the sermon.

By the time the church doors are opened, and people file out you're sure your heart will burst anyways. You stay seated in the front pew, not moving an inch because if you stand it'll be to bolt out the door and... well technically nothing was keeping you from it. It's not like the god damn (sorry God) preacher would shoot you if you attempted to run. He had simply suggested you confess. Easy. He probably hears peoples fucked up sexual fantasies all the time sitting in that booth. You knew the sheriff’s wife was sleeping with the banker and you knew the sheriff was sleeping with the widow down the street so it's not like the stuff that’s pulled from the great Catholics of No Mans Land weren't anything he hadn't heard before.

That's the thought you try and let comfort you as Father Wolfwood finishes up thanking people for coming to church and shaking hands.

The church doors shut with a thud that makes you jump in your seat; you press your hands together firmly and feel your fingernails dig into the skin there. This was fine.

"You know" Father Wolfwood folds his hands politely behind his back and takes agonizingly slow steps down the aisle "People with guilty conscious are more likely to be startled by loud noises."

You keep your head bowed slightly in what must look like a mock prayer, but you aren’t praying any more, you're just doing everything possible to not throw up on the churches nice red carpet, carpet that is interrupted when two black dress shows come into view.

"y/n?"

That voice. It makes you press you lips in a firm line scared of what filth might come out of it if you speak. Instead, to show you're listening, you slowly raise your head to meet Wolfwoods eyes, the likes of which seem clouded in some strong emotion. Were priest always this intense? Well, the easy answer was yes but this was a different type of intensity, not kind that filled revering words but one that more closely resembled a predator zoning in on its prey.

"Y/n" he says it again, albeit softer this time as if coaxing forward a scared animal. "You have something on your mind, don't you? Something that plagues you?"

You feel your fingers instinctively move to fiddle with the hem of your shirt. If the heat from the church before was unbearable before then this is downright swelting.

"Don't you usually do this kind of thing in the booth?" a poor attempt of a smile graces your lips in a desperate attempt to lighten whatever mood was staring to suffocate the air.

"Usually yes. This is a special case I believe though..." he leans down and your heart slams against your chest, his breath fans against your cheek. You can smell lingering cologne and... was that smoke? Surely not, if your local priest smoked it'd be the talk of the town, although now that you think about it those plush lips would look perfect balancing a cigarette between them, and they'd look even better if he used those teeth to-

"I almost forgot! You haven't received communion" He straightens out in an instant and claps his hands together nearly scaring you out of your skin while your face heats up from pure embarrassment.

You watch as he crosses from the pew to the table behind the pulpit and grabs a small cup of wine and bread. Just as quickly he's back in front of you with the objects. You reach out to accept them when he pulls his hands back.

"ah ah ah, I said this was a special communion didn't I? I'll deliver it unto you, you just sit and do as your told."

Oh. Yeah, that definitely didn't do anything to you. Nothing like a gruff handsome man in priest wear telling you to obey in the house of God. This was for sure not bubbling up any worrying realizations about yourself. Nope. Not in the slightest.

He steps back putting a little bit of room between the two of you before his eyes flicker from you to the carpet in front of him.

"Kneel."

You go instantly and willingly, a bit too willingly. Your mind flashes with Father Wolfwoods sermons about the disciples who kissed Jesus’ feet. You wonder if this was an elaborate way to get you to read the bible more because you're beginning to understand what was going through their minds now as you sit on your knees in front of the priest.

You aren’t sure if Wolfwood expected you to be so eager. He pauses for a moment before you swear a hint of a smirk plays at his lips. He raises the glass and the bit of bread slightly.

"Listen to me closely, we wouldn't want to spill and stain the carpet now, would we?" he ask.

You shake your head no. He makes a satisfied hum and continues.

"Tilt your head back.”

You do as your told, tilting your head back until your eye level is forced to be centered on the man in front of you.

"Open your mouth.”

Your mouth begins to salivate despite the fact there’s nothing in it yet. Perhaps it's due to the fact that what he's about to put in it isn't want you’d like to have resting on your tongue.

"Good. Why don't you stick your tongue out a little bit? I don't want you to dribble."

Fuck him. Fuck him so bad. There was no way he didn't know what he was doing but if had any hint about this sadistic game he was playing with you he gave no indication, he remained at stoic as ever as if you weren't having the most unholy thoughts imagine about your fucking priest.

There’s no going back though. You follow his instructions and let your tongue loll out of your mouth. You swear something flickers in his eyes, but it's gone as soon as it arrives.

He raises the glass and bread more as if offering it to God.

"Close your eyes.”

You do. You let the light of stained-glass windows be blotted out by your own blind obedience.

“Corpus Domini Nostri Iesu Christi custodiat animam tuam in vitam aeternam....Amen."

You feel him press the small bit of bread onto your tongue, you close and eat. You don't need to be told before your opening your mouth again.

The wine follows right after, poured into your mouth and you swallow it down focusing on not letting any hit the ground with the speed at which the contents are emptied down your throat.

What realistically could not have been more than a few seconds feels as though it's lasted a lifetime. You take a deep breath once the bitter wine has settled in your stomach and before you can even think about getting up and excusing yourself from the church Wolfwood puts a hand on your shoulder, signaling for you to stay in place.

"Good. Why don't we get that confession out of the way then?"

Right. The reason he had probably pulled you aside for all of this in the first place. Had he seen through you? Seen how hungry your gaze had become? Probably. Looking back on it sitting in the front row was probably not the best idea when the entire reason for your Sunday visits was for potential fantasy fuel. There didn't seem like any reason to lie though, it's not like a priest could tell anyone about these things and outside of church Father Wolfwood was a bit of an anomaly to the town.

He didn't have any friends that you knew of, didn't gossip, or hang out at the bar, the man lived in this church which was making you feel a bit more guilty about your infatuation now that you thought of it but hey, if you weren't guilty about something then were you even a catholic?

"Forgive me Father I have sinned..."

With a grimace you realize why the damn confessions booths were so popular. Admitting this to God or a wooden wall was a little too easy. Admitting this to Wolfwood was like someone slowly peeling off your skin.

"I see, well, tell me child what is your confession?"

a swallow, then a leap.

"I have been...ah having inappropriate thoughts about someone. Someone who I go out of my way to see to add to these...fantasy's I have."

He listens closely and his hand comes up to cup the back of your head.

"I see...lust then?"

You nod in response, and he makes an affirming noise.

"And what do you imagine happening in these...fantasies of yours?"

The silence in the empty church is so loud it's deafening. Your hands scrunch and unscrunch the fabric of your pants.

"I...I imagine him pushing be down against these very pews Father. That one day as I'm standing up to leave mass, he'll shove me right back down and take me against the wood."

It's said strained but even you must admit maybe there’s something to this confession shit because you feel a bit lighter with it off your shoulders. Father Wolfwood looks less light. In fact, he looks you've just damned him to hell.

"Is that all?" he asks but it comes out breathier than he means it to.

The tone sends something to your core, oh you see it now. Lamb and shepherd your ass, you were still most certainly the lamb but the Father was no shepherd, he was the Wolf. Maybe God himself had put that divine foreshadowing into his name.

You shift on your knees and press yourself flatter trying to rub your thighs together. Wolfwoods eyes flicker down to the action then back up to your face, he opens his mouth to say something, but you beat him to it.

"No Father. Sometimes I imagine him taking me on the stand in front of the whole congregation. Still preaching while he finishes in me, holy words even in his most sinful act. But...do you know what I really want Father?"

Wolfwood swallows, his fingers trace along your face, and you fight every instinct to lean into it. He looks like this is paining him, He's all gritted teeth and square shoulders as he speaks.

"What do you want?"

Hook. Line. Sinker.

"I imagine he'd keep me here after church, that he'd have me kneel before him still while wearing his holy clothes, that collar, the rosary...and I wish he'd undo his belt to-"

"Enough."

Your mouth snaps shut scared you've pushed to far. You can feel heat bloom across your face in embarrassment now that your words are catching up to you, this was meant to be a confession not a shit porno, maybe you DID need God...

"You drive me insane you know that? Every day you come in here- the house of god mind you and stare at me like..." He clicks his tongue and motions to you.

"Well like that."

You aren't sure what to make of his tone, it's scolding and firm but hinges on needy at the end. You're starting to worry you broke the poor man before he makes an irritated noise.

"Fine. You want to repent so bad?" Wolfwoods hands go to his belt and with a soft clink of the metal it comes fastened. Your eyes flicker to look towards the door to make sure that no one was about to walk in on the scene that'd put Judas’ sin to shame when you're snapped out of your thoughts.

"Pay attention sweetheart, you were doing so good before, what happened?" The mask of a holy man cracks and gives way to something cockier, more taunting, more...Wolfwood.

"Unless you need scripture to keep your focus?" he works to undo the button and the zip of his dress pants as he tilts his head.

"Then here's something for you, 'the serpent said to the woman. “For God knows that when you eat from it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.” When Eve saw that the fruit of the tree was good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom..' "

He frees himself from the confines of his pants. You feel your mouth water and although your knees are starting to hurt from kneeling for so long you have a feeling you're about to get your real communion.

" '...and she opened her mouth, and took.' "

In beat with his preaching you let your mouth fall open. In all honesty, you get it now. You get how appealing that lush fruit must have been to Eve, you get why even after being promised paradise, she gave in to temptation. The weight that settles on your tongue as Wolfwood presses into your mouth makes your eyes roll back and an involuntary moan escape your throat. Wolfwoods breath stutters.

"God..." He groans and if your mouth wasn't currently full you might have made a witty comment about using the lords name in vain but a quick hand lacing through your hair from Wolfwood serves well enough to sever whatever thought had flitted through your mind.

You flatten your tongue and take more, allowing as much as you can to the back of your throat but when tears prick your eyes and you gag slightly on the sensation he pulls you off with a wet pop. You whine slightly at loss before Wolfwoods hand grabs your chin while he uses his thumb to wipe up the drool leaking from your lips that you hadn't realized was there.

"Patience, don’t you listen to a word I say up there?” he muses, you sheepishly look up at him through your eyelashes and it’s answer enough. He pulls you back in front of his cock, "Be good then, swallow every drop and I might forgive you"

You don't have much time to argue has his hand guides you back. You're more prepared this time, the way you sit on your knees...you’re a picture perfect saint and who's here to judge you for your sin anyways? Wolfwood? Sounded like a set up to a joke.

"Fuck, yeah baby just like that. So good-" His words break off with a grunt and his hips stutter forward, he pulls your head forward and your reach up to steady yourself with his thighs. He rocks his hips to your mouth as he face fucks you in the middle of the church. When his breathing speeds up and he mutters out a sting of gentle curses you know he’s close. You close your eyes and let him use you as he spills down your throat. You're desperate to show him you can listen, you swallow down as much as you can trying to not let a single drop of cum hit the floor.

When the rough handful of hair is released, you pull back to try and catch your breath, a worthless endeavor it would seem considering you're just as quickly being lifted up by your arm. You feel yourself being tugged up the steps towards the pulpit and make peace with the fact you're officially the worst Catholic ever...well besides the priest who's currently the instigator of this depravity.

"Not done yet sweetheart, the grace of god doesn't come with a blow job surprisingly" Wolfwood huffs amused as he presses down on your shoulder to force you to bend of the wood stand.

"Are you even a priest?" wrong question you guess because Wolfwood makes an irritated noise.

"Aren't you supposed to be repenting?" His hands grope at your thighs spreading them apart much more slowly than you'd like, as if he's savoring it...reverence you think.

"Father-"

He chuckles lowly at that.

"Father" he imitates "you let that name fall from your lips like it doesn't turn you on just to say it"

His fingers ghost over your thighs, then around the area you want him most before sliding up under your shirt to explore flesh. It's so hot in the church and when you peer out across the wooden pews you see the stain glass window casting rainbow light that sprawls out across the floor all the way up to your body.

"Focus on me" Wolfwood corrects your wandering mind by nipping along your neck and your body instinctively shudders against him. You press your hips back to feel his growing hardness pressed against your ass. His hands slide your shirt up over your head and he begins to focus on trailing kisses along your back.

"Thank you, lord," His lips move against your shoulder blade.

"For delivering this sinner unto me, so that I may show them rapture."

His fingers hook along the hem of your pants and tug them down your legs until they rest right at your knees.

"Despite that, I must confess, I have sinned."

His fingers trace along your entrance before slowly sinking in. You groan and press your head to the wood in front of you, fingers scratching against the surface.

"I have lusted for someone of my own congregation. I have imagined them kneeling for me and I worst of all I have imagined me taking them, devouring them until there is nothing left to fill them but me"

Another finger lazily joins the first and he begins a slow rhythm of pumping them in and out. You attempt to wiggle your hips back to chase the feeling, but his other hand keeps your waist flush against the stand.

"But I am only a man so with my mortal body I will show them euphoria"

You feel his fingers pull out and whine at the loss only to feel the blunt head of his own cock begin to line up with you.

"Amen"

Wolfwood doesn't give you much more warning before roughly pressing in. You moan as he sets a backbreaking pace, thankful that he at least prepped you before. He's leaned over your body; his hair tickles the back of your neck slightly as he pants in your ear. You imagine your own noises can't be much better as his left hand, the one he's apparently wrapped in a rosary, comes up to catch your chin, two fingers press into your mouth as he supports your head. His other hand stays at your hip, bringing your body back against his with every thrust.

It's so hot in the church, sweat beads along your body and you can feel your hair beginning to stick to your forehead. Your mind feels foggy and you lap absent mindedly at the fingers invading your mouth. Wolfwood groans and pushes you down further against the stand and it'd be uncomfortable if you could focus on anything other than the priest fucking your brains out. He produces an ungodly amount of precum, you can feel it making a mess between your thighs right as drool begins to leak from the corners of your mouth and bead down to the wood below.

Wolfwoods hand shifts from your hip to where a blooming warmth has begun. You nearly cry out with relief babbling nonsense around his fingers, hell maybe even a few prayers. His own mouth is becoming less of that of a reverend and more of that of a ravenous man, mouthing and biting at what he can reach. The fingers press deeper into your mouth and your feel the smooth beads of the rosary are you toy with them with your tongue. You're close, you tremble beneath Wolfwood and he catches on because both his hands pull away to once again fit along your hips. You nearly sob from the new lack of stimulation as he rocks into you.

"Beg for it" Wolfwood says so firm you'd have sworn he was once again leading congregation. Your mind is half way to mush right now so it doesn't take much convincing to do what he wants.

"Please please please let me, I’m sorry, I’ll be good, I repent" you babble out hoping you’ve said the magic words.

His hand comes down firmly on your ass as he thrust into you then finally finally reaches to touch between your thighs.

It sends you over the edge instantly, your legs trembling as you whine and moan, Wolfwoods own obscene noises match your own as he finishes inside you, letting you milk him for all he's worth.

The two of you stay like that for a moment, you become aware of the fact your priest is pressed up against your back, trying to catch his breath from fucking the ever loving daylights out of you. You whine slightly and Wolfwood responds by nuzzling his face against your neck.

"Are you okay?"

You do actually laugh at that one, letting your forehead rest against the podium.

"The priest I've been fantasizing about fucking me for a year now just has. This has been the best lay of my life and you want to ask if I'm okay?"

"You're awfully vulgar aren't you?"

You snap your head up to make several points about irony of the statement but when you turn you see a shit eating grin on his face. Your playfully hit his chest and groan.

"You've got to be the worst priest ever"

"Can't say I'd deny that claim" He leans forward and kisses you, you go into it easily but the taste of his lips remind you of something, when you pull away you raise an eyebrow

"Do you smoke?"

He shrugs and keeps his hands on your waist.

"I prefer to keep certain things in my life separated from the church"

"and me?"

"Consider yourself a special case." He smirks and takes hold of your chin between his fingers "Although I do hope this was enough to keep you coming to my sermons?" he ask

You swallow at the dark look in his eye and place your hands on his chest.

"and miss the holy word? Perish the thought"

He chuckles lowly at that as your hands begin to play with the collar of the cassock he wears.

"Although Father, I fear I may not have properly confessed."

He raises an eyebrow and eyes you "No?"

You shake your head "See I only...repented for two out of three fantasy’s I had also mentioned being taken against the pews"

Wolfwoods hands tighten around his hips and his smile widens.

"Well...let's fix that, shall we?"

Author's note: ahhhh I'm back! I've been storin this little beauty away for awhile now. This is my welcome back post because I feel like I lost the way I wanted to organize and write for a little while and this was the first piece that got me back in the flow of things. I missed you guys! We're back baby! (I'll add my spacers in later I'm missin the files rn and I don't feel like searching for them)

[captain-mj]

Muzzled Ghost prompt! Where Ghost gets caught and Soap immediately goes to find him. When he does he finds that Ghost has freed himself but still has a muzzle stuck to his face and well Soap might get a little too hot under the collar seeing his Lt angry, victorious, and annoyed about the muzzle but surely they don't need to get to the exfil right away do they?

Yes... Yes... I'm loving these asks

Soap was staring. He shouldn't be, but christ how can you blame him??

His Lt was a sight to see. Stripped down to his tactical pants, lines over his chest from where he was no doubt tightly tied down, but never secured. His blond hair spiked up and messy. He was clean, no blood or dirt on him which was shocking considering. Though, it seemed Soap had killed everyone coming in, meaning Ghost just had to free himself.

That was all... one thing. Already, Soap would be gagging for him. But now, there was the added fact that Ghost was collared and muzzled. They had used brown leather ones, obviously meant for a human with the way they curved around his jaw. The collar and muzzle had a string that kept him from moving his head properly.

"Johnny, thank fuck. It's locked. You have a lockpick right?" Ghost looked at him, pausing once they made eye contact. Soap realized he was drooling. "I know you like me shirtless but pull yourself together Sergeant." He crossed his arms over his chest like he was a blushing bride trying to protect himself from Soap's wandering eyes.

"I um... Yeah I..." Wait. He laughed awkwardly. "Actually... I don't have a lockpick... Mine broke at the beginning of this mission. Remember?"

"Jesus fucking Christ." Ghost tugged at the leather, making it press taut against his skin and Soap went weak in the fucking knees. "Help. Me." He hissed at him.

"You look so fucking good." Soap mumbled, accent thick as honey over his words.

Ghost went red, all the way down his chest. "You kinky bastard. Like seeing me in a fucking collar?"

"Collar is helping, but that's not my focus, Lt." He reached up, grabbed the muzzle and yanking him down. Without his boots, Simon was still tall, but he didn't tower over him quite as much.

"Bloody Hell." Ghost mumbled out. "I'm the one muzzled but you're the one acting like a fucking dog." He looked embarrassed. Fucking hell. His badass Lt, bashful..

Soap couldn't kiss him so he pulled him closer, starting to back him up.

"Eva-"

"Can't it wait just a minute, Simon? I think if we don't fuck, I'm going to die here." He pressed his hard cock to Ghost's legs, looking up at him desperately.

"Jesus Christ. Are you still open from before?"

"Yep! Shame I can't fuck you, but we can always get a muzzle for home."

Ghost shook his head but let Soap desperately undo Ghost's pants. He shoved him down, realizing he was probably sore and hurting from everything.

"I'll just take care of you right now okay?" Soap got on top of him.

Ghost shook his head and looked up at him. "Jo-"

"Put your hands behind your head and keep them there." Soap interrupted.

Ghost stared at him for a moment before slowly, achingly, complying. He crossed his wrists, pale skin all on display. Soap needed to appreciate this view more. Fucking hell.

"God you're gorgeous."

"Johnny." He bit it out like it was warning but he was clearly starting to enjoy himself. Soap took off his pants and settled more properly on Ghost's hips.

Ghost stayed eerily still, staring up at him. His pupils had dilated, taking up the majority of his iris. Soap swallowed thickly and wondered briefly how feral Ghost could get. Part of him wanted to push. See what he could make him do. Ghost had a knack for making Soap a pathetic needy mess, but with the way Ghost was staring into his soul like he'd devour it if his mouth wasn't covered, he wondered if that went both ways.

Soap spit on to his fingers before sliding them into himself. Ghost tensed but his hands stayed where they were supposed to. It would sting a little, but Soap hated having to wait through prep in the best of circumstances. He knew it was necessary, but Christ, he wanted the real thing.

So Soap quickly sank down on Ghost, panting softly at the feeling. "You're so big."

Ghost's hips jerked up into him and Soap quickly grabbed the collar. The tiny whimper that got from Ghost was going to be in every single one of Soap's wet dreams for the rest of his damn life.

"Don't move." Soap ground down on him and Ghost fluttered his eyelashes at him.

"Johnny. Please, we don't have time for you to tease me."

God Soap hated that he was right. He started moving faster, slowly moving up and down on him with a lazy grin. Fuck it felt like Ghost was tearing him apart, but he wouldn't let Ghost know that. "You so rarely give me control, sir. Forgive me for wanting to indulge." His thighs pressed against either side of Ghost's hips, clenching around him.

Ghost moaned. Soap almost drooled at the sweet sound. His mouth could be seen through the leather and he could see it was open. His soft tongue just barely visible. He was trying so hard to stay still.

"Good boy." Soap offered and Ghost groaned, head falling back. He started riding him much faster, with much more purpose. His hands reached down and grabbed the soft flesh of his pecs. Soap wanted to be greedy. Take his fill of this before the mask went on and Ghost went back to being his rough and tough Lt. He leaned down and bit his shoulder, feeling him almost shake with the desperate need to touch Soap.

Ghost looked at him, eyes hooded and desperate. Black greasepaint smearing down his face. "Fine."

"fine?" Soap echoed, a bit confused.

"I'll let you muzzle me and get fucking creative later just speed up." Ghost groaned.

Soap's brain went wild with ideas already but he couldn't deny him. He scratched down his chest as he bounced on him, twisting his hips slightly when he almost got to the base of his cock.

Ghost panted and moaned, making it hard for Soap to keep a rhythm when he sounded like that. His hips kept stuttering or thighs clenching.

"Come on, Simon. I got you." Soap ran his nails over and Ghost came inside him, going quiet as he did. He stroked himself to finish on Ghost's chest.

They silently got dressed afterward and eventually found Ghost's gear. He had his extra lockpick in and they quickly got Ghost out of the muzzle and collar. He pulled his mask back on.

Soap stashed the muzzle into one of his pockets. For later.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

The Elevator

can you imagine the sheer chaos that would happen if Thomas (and therefore, all the sides) got stuck in an elevator? – amateurmasksmith

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none!

Pairings: DLAMPR, can be platonic or romantic i don't care

Word Count: 1364

The five stages of grief, as explored through what happens when you get stuck in an elevator.

    Denial

  "No," Virgil groans, slamming his head against the wall, "there's no way we're stuck in an elevator."

"Of course not." Logan folds his hands patiently. "We heard this elevator move, it clearly had to travel to reach the floor we were on, so we are not stuck in an elevator, it is simply delayed."

"That's right!" Patton claps his hands. "All we have to do is wait for it to start moving."

They wait. And wait. And keep waiting.

"I don't know if you've noticed," Roman says after they've waited for a considerable amount of time, "but, uh, we don't really seem to be moving all that much."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Janus drawls, leaning against the wall next to Virgil and examining his fingernails, even though he's wearing gloves, "this is clearly the fastest elevator I've ever been on. Truly, I don't know how your ears haven't popped yet."

"Oh my god, will you shut up?"

"What was that, Virgil? Sorry, I can't hear you over how fast we're going."

"Guys," Logan interrupts, "enough. We just have to be patient."

          2. Anger

  "How in the hell did this elevator manage to break while we're on it?"

"This is ridiculous," Logan mutters, beginning to tap his fingers against his wrist, "do they not think people have places to be? How are we expected to make our appointments if we are stuck in this infuriatingly small metal box?"

"They really should pay more attention to them," Patton agrees, crossing his arms too, "after all, what if someone got really stuck in here? Or if it got caught between floors?"

"Not helping, Pop Star," Virgil growls, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

"Oh, sorry, kiddo."

"Well, clearly we have to recommend this place to everyone," Janus drawls, but a hint of steel undercuts the worst of the sarcasm, "for their stellar service and impeccable elevators."

Virgil grits his teeth and thunks his head back against the wall again. "I swear to god, I'm gonna punch our way out of here in a moment if this thing doesn't start fucking moving."

"You'll just hurt your hands, pry the doors open instead."

"Roman, no—"

Roman's fist slams into the wall with a thud. When he looks up, Patton makes a noise and takes step back.

"This elevator," he snarls, "better start fucking moving."

          3. Bargaining

  "What if I cut the cables?"

Patton yelps and Virgil swears as Remus drops down from the ceiling, looking far too eager and holding way too many tools. "Don't scare us like that, Remus?"

"And also don't kill us," Janus remarks, reaching out and grabbing his shoulder before he can get all the way to the control panel on the side, "we are still in the elevator."

"We can fix that!"

"For fuck's sake—no, Remus!"

"Language," Patton calls from where he's hiding behind Logan.

Virgil shoots forward to muscle Remus away from the elevator's control panel too, knocking some of the tools out of his arms and helping Janus hold him against the wall. "Stop it, Remus, you're scaring Patton."

"I should be scaring this elevator, but if the beast won't give up its guts, I'll eviscerate the monster!"

"It's an elevator, dude, calm down."

"I don't think asking Remus to calm down is going to work, Virge."

          4. Depression

  "What's the point," Roman groans, making everyone look around for him before realizing he's sitting on the floor, "what's the point in trying to ask him to calm down, what's the point of trying to get out of here? We're not going to make it in time, we're just going to be stuck in this elevator forever and we'll die of being stuck in a metal box."

"Roman," Logan says, surprisingly gently, "don't think like that, it's going to be alright."

"You said it yourself, Specs!" Roman throws his arms out. "We've already missed the bus by now, and the next one won't get us there in time. We missed it, it's over, we don't have another shot at it."

His face crumples miserably and Remus sags, letting Janus and Virgil wrestle the rest of his tools out of his grip before wriggling free of them himself. He scurries across the elevator to crouch next to Roman's side. Roman looks up with his eyes welling up with tears and Remus sits down, holding out his arms and letting his brother bury his face in the crook of his neck.

"Hey, Roro, it's gonna be okay," he murmurs, rubbing his back, "it's okay, Ro-Bro, it's okay."

"It's not," Roman sobs, "it's not okay! We worked so hard on this, Re, and now—and now—"

"Shh, shh, shh, it's okay, Roro, you're okay. I gotcha, okay? I'm right here."

The elevator fills with the soft sounds of Roman crying, even as he tries to bumble through apologies for being so emotional, or getting so upset, only for Remus to shush him and the others to follow suit.

"It's alright to be upset, Roman," Logan says softly, crouching by the two of them and reaching out to card his fingers through Roman's hair, "just give yourself a minute."

Roman sniffles and nuzzles against Remus's shoulder.

          5. Acceptance

  It takes Roman a little longer to compose himself, but Remus just holds him until he sags into his arms and bonks their heads together affectionately.

"You feeling a little better, Roro?"

"I mean," Roman sniffs, "not really, but I'm not going to cry anymore."

He looks up at the others, at their concerned faces and small smiles, and he sighs.

"Guess we're just stuck in here until someone comes to get us, right?"

Virgil slumps down in the opposite corner, an odd mish-mash of limbs and hoodie as he toys with the strings. "Yep. Guess so."

Janus sighs dramatically—which is saying something, seeing as both Creativity Brothers look at him as though they think he's being excessive—and slinks to the floor in a way that would make most animated Disney villains jealous. He props one knee up and flounces against the railing, looking every bit the inconvenienced overlord until Remus reaches out and pokes him in the ribs. Then he hisses and curls up into a more normal seated position and Remus cackles.

"Well, we might as well get comfy," Patton says, sitting down too, "who knows how long we're gonna be in here?"

"Until someone else notices the elevator is broken, I guess."

"We should play a game!"

"No," Janus groans, "no games."

"Ooh, what about Find The Organ?"

"No, Remus."

"I don't think I know that one, what's—" Patton squeaks as his hand claps itself over his mouth.

"I'm saving you from a far worse fate," Janus says gravely, with a look of utmost sincerity and honesty on his face, "trust me."

          +1. Realization

  Logan's deep sigh from the other side of the elevator draws their attention. Roman frowns as he sees Logan take off his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"Logan? You okay?"

"What's up, L," Virgil asks too when Logan doesn't respond, "is something wrong?"

Logan still doesn't say anything. After another moment of the others trying to figure out what's got him so upset, he replaces his glasses with a forced calm and reaches out.

The button glows.

The elevator rumbles and lurches into motion.

"Whoa, Logan!" Patton scrambles to his feet. "You fixed it!"

"Wait, wait, what?" Remus gets up too. "How did you do that?"

"He's Logan," Janus says, getting up as though it was his idea to sit down in the first place, which it was, but out of necessity, not choice, "are you surprised?"

Virgil narrows his eyes at Logan's back for a moment before he bursts out laughing. "Wait, did no one push the button when we got in?"

Logan's silence is telling.

"Oh my god—"

"What the fuck—"

"How the hell did no one—"

"Remus!"

"What did I do?"

The elevator carries its passengers down to the lobby, rumbling and whirring all the way.

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[milkywaydrabbles]

He who was bound in chains, set free. | II.

Trauma and past sexual abuse underneath. Can find on AO3 here

“Take your clothes off.”

“Yes, sir.”

Another bow of the head, looking forever down towards your feet, taking off your ruched bandeau of a top. He decided it was easier to simply wear that than any proper clothes, seeing as you didn’t wear them often around him. Your skirt was next, eyes blank and void of any emotion. You’ve learned to turn them off when it came to this. In the beginning it used to be...difficult. You would cry, sniffle, hiccup. You learned quickly he didn’t like that. The lashings you’d receive taught you the lesson you thought you deserved at this point. 

“I don’t have all day.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” 

You pushed back whatever thoughts you had left, removing the last of your clothes, and doing your best not to cover up. The bruises on your arms taught you that lesson, too. You didn’t need further direction, getting on your hands and knees and crawling to that demon of a man you called your master. A hand wrapped around his shaft, barely at half mast. He wanted you to get him there. He always liked seeing your hands -- and mouth -- wrapped around him in some way. You hated it more than anything in the world. Slowly you pumped him to full erection, not looking at him--you couldn’t. Tears would fall, you feared. Suddenly a hand grabbed at the roots of your hair, shoving you towards his cock. You winced, a small whimper escaped at the forcefulness. 

“This is all you’re good for, bitch. Now hurry up, I'm meeting with friends within the hour.”

You closed your eyes, tight, and wrapped your lips around the disgusting appendage. You didn’t even have time to ease into it, immediately being pushed down towards the base. You choked and spittled around him, as he continued to use you to completion. He pulled out, finishing on your face. He chuckled. 

“There, it’s the only time you look good. Now turn around.”

“Yes, sir.”

Everything went black.

--

You came to, except you were cowering in fear. Fear of being stricken any more than you have been. 

“P-please, I’m sorry! I won’t do it again, I’m sorry!”

You don’t know what you’re apologizing for. Maybe you broke something, maybe you talked back.

Maybe he was just drunk.

Another fist came down at your head, and you held back another scream as best you could. You could feel your blood trickling down near your temple, ringing in your ears. Your head hurt, so much. You wish you could just vanish. He grabbed at you again, pushing your hands that were in front of your face away and forcibly grabbed you by the chin, cheeks squeezing between his fingers. 

“You disgust me, you disgust everyone. This is why your parents sold you to me, you know. They wanted a pretty coin, they didn’t care what happened to you. I should kill you.”

You could barely hear anything after that. 

The beating continued on your arms, kicking your legs, hitting whatever he could get his hands on. You feared some of these bruises would turn permanent.

“Please, please, stop! Please!”

“Please!” You gasped out, eyes opening suddenly and jolting up in a sitting position. You choked on the air you just took in, lungs hurting more than anticipated. Your arms covered your head, knees coming up to your chest and shut your eyes tight again. You couldn’t even recognize the pain that shot through you from your injuries. You feared you were still with him. You feared you were back in Gresit, like some animal locked up. You feared, you feared you feared--

“You’re awake.”

Eyes still shut, you managed to stop trembling--you didn’t realize you started--but didn’t dare move. You didn’t...you didn’t recognize this voice. You weren’t sure you knew it.

“You’ve been asleep for four days.” He sounded cold. Distant. 

Slowly you uncurled your body, and peeking through your hair that created a curtain around you, you noticed it was the angel from earlier. Looks like he brought you inside. 

Oh.

“...”

You weren’t sure what you were expected to say. You remember falling and boots and dirt. You remember running away from the monsters. You remember seeing an angel. But you remember him looking almost angry, inconvenienced maybe. 

“I’m...I--It’s--” 

You were frustrated, unsure on what to even say to him. He beat you to it.

“Why did you come here?” Ah, there it is. The inconvenienced scowl on his brow, low timber of his voice. You looked back down.

“...I was running away from those monsters. I didn’t mean to be here.” Voice small.

“Perhaps, but you saw it through the woods, I’m sure. Which means, you were too close. Why?”

How the hell do I answer that?

“...I fell asleep in my travels. I woke up too late. I had no choice.” Well, you could have died . That’s a choice. 

A deep sigh came from his direction.  “Where did you come from?”

“Gresit.”

“Why did you leave?”

You didn’t answer.

He asked again, no difference in his voice. Thankfully. Didn’t sound angry.

“I...had to. For safety.” Not a lie. 

You thought he knew that, too. His next statement surprised you.

“You may stay here, just a few days. Recover your strength. I expect you gone within one week.”

You could have cried at that alone, you’d have a shelter, a safe shelter. In Dracula’s castle with a vampire, maybe. But a shelter nonetheless. 

“...Thank you.”

With that he left, to be alone in your silence once again. You decided to sleep some more, you were still so tired.

--

You woke a few hours later, unknowing of the time. But it was dark now, the day must be done. You looked around as best you could, trying to take in your surroundings. It was dark, though, only having the moon to illuminate the darkened room. Your closed your eyes again, cupped your hands together, and thought. Thought so hard, envisioning a small flame circling within your palms, just a small one, enough to give you a bit more light. You kept thinking about a flame, muttering to yourself throughout. Please, please just enough, please, I just want to see, please...!

The small flame appeared within your hands, you gasped, then exhaled a laugh. Slowly, and carefully, you got out of bed, and looked around the room. Honestly, it was quite barren, outside of the grandiose armoire on one wall and some scattered books on a shelf. A bit worse for wear, dusty, like no one’s been in here. And then another door, which when you inspected further led to the most magnificent bathroom you’ve ever seen in your life . You couldn’t believe your eyes! It was pristine, in better condition than the room and oh my god the massive clawed tub in the middle of it all was such a sight for sore eyes. You couldn’t remember the last time you got to bathe yourself properly, you only had rivers and ponds to keep you somewhat clean since you left Gresit. You let yourself walk closer to it, not fully understanding the contraptions that sat on top of it. You wondered if you could find some water on your own to use it...

“If you twist the knobs at the time, water will come out.”

You gasped, eyes widening and your heart leaping into your throat. Your hands clutched up to your chest, small fire instantly burning out with a spark. You were back in darkness. 

“I knew I smelled magic .” 

Oh. Oh no. And the other shoe just dropped. You were going to be beaten again for being born a witch. Your heart rate started to accelerate, eyes shifting anywhere else in the room. Palms become sweaty, clutching at nothing by your chest, Not even enough of a top to grasp at the fabric. What were you going to do if--

He walked over, silently, and you prayed once again to the gods you’ve denounced whilst you trembled. Only to have him walk past you, and twist on the knobs of the tub. One side he turned on had steaming water pouring out the spout. It’s hot water! The one next to it seemed to cool it down, down to warm temperatures but not hot enough to burn you. He turns them off, doesn’t turn to you.

“You’re a witch.” Not a question, a statement.

“...I...Am.” 

“A poor excuse of a witch.” I knew that already.

It was silent in the room.

“...I don’t know how to use magic.” That was a little more than obvious.

“What do you mean? Your coven disregards you that much?” Well-

“I don’t...Know what that is.”

That made him turn slightly, wondering what kind of witch you were that couldn’t use magic and didn’t know what a coven was. 

“..Bathe first. You smell vile.” Ouch.  He left promptly after that. 

You looked at the shelves around the bath against the walls, littered with different smelling soaps and lotions. You could have died and gone to heaven. A luxury you have never been able to afford. He must really be an angel . You grabbed a handful of things that smelled nicest to you, and brought them over to the edge of the tub. You looked around again, making sure no one was there (who else would be? The man left). You felt wildly uncomfortable taking your clothes off. You turned again towards the door. It was closed. You tiptoed over and locked it for good measure. You’re sure whoever that vampire was could rip it open if he wanted to. But you felt safer, regardless. You stripped down to nothing, quickly jumping into the still very warm water, and felt every bone in your body creak, muscles relaxing for the first time in years . You audibly moaned, and immediately went on high alert. You shut your mouth, and looked at the window, and then the door. Tensed body relaxed again, just a little, and got to scrubbing your skin raw.

You stayed in the water until it grew cold, scrubbed every inch of your body, no matter how much it hurt. And it hurt , saying you still had the injury from apparently four days ago . Some of the lacerations around your arms and legs always burned anyways, so the newfound marks were nothing new to you. It must have been at least a half hour in the tub, maybe more. You found a small plug at the bottom and pulled, hoping it drained the water magically. And it did , though you still have no idea how it works. Thankfully you found a towel, next to the rest of the soaps, and dried your best off, trying your best not to rip open any of the wounds. You wouldn’t want to get beaten for getting your blood on the towel. Or worse, bring him into a feeding frenzy and just take the arm clean off. 

(He’d already smelled your blood when you showed at his doorstep, but you weren’t thinking). 

You wanted to put lotion on your skin, to smell nice , but you didn’t think any of the fragranced oils would do you any good with your battered skin. You still felt much better. Reclothing yourself, you carefully unlocked the door, and stepped as silently as you could back into the original room. You always tended to tread lightly, out of habit, out of fear maybe, out of protection. You didn’t know if you were supposed to wait, or...

“Follow me, and don’t touch anything .” 

You gasped again, looking at the doorway that led to the hallway. You barely caught a glimpse of him as you silently ran to catch up to him and followed. You looked to the ground, as you always did. Just step after step, foot in front of the other. Not wanting to draw attention, not wanting to look around in fear of retaliation. Just following, the way a pet would. You saw him stop, so you stopped. And looked up, only a little.

He was staring at you, face blank of any expression. 

“Go sit.”

When you looked into the room he led you to it was a study, Filled to the brim with books, and journals, and scrolls. Filled to the brim with knowledge . Of everything you didn’t know, of everything you wished you knew. Fiction maybe, or maybe history? Endless possibilities in the room alone.

You realized you’d been staring around at virtually nothing for too long, and scurried to a chair near the hearth. The warmth felt so comforting. 

“Now what is this about you not knowing what a coven is?” He sounded accusatory. You’re a liar.

How do you answer that?

“I..don’t know? I’m not sure what you mean?”

He let out an exasperated sigh. 

“Coven. Of witches? A group of familial witches who live together?” He acts as if it’s such common knowledge to you.

“..I didn’t have that. I just lived in a regular village, before Gresit.”

“What village?”

“I don’t remember.”

He didn’t believe you.

“And how do you not remember where you were born?”

“I don’t know...my parents sold me to a man in Gresit when I was young. I don’t remember.” 

Your voice was as leveled as you could keep it, though you were starting to feel on edge with all the questioning.

“Sold? To whom?”

“I’m...well, I’m not sure who he was. Not really.” You kept your eyes down at your hands. You started picking at the skin around your nails, ripping them raw. “I just knew him as my master.”

Silence filled the void between you. You didn’t know if you were meant to continue.

“Why did you run away?” Don’t call it running away, it was for safety!

“I wanted to be safe.”

“Safe from what?”

“He hurt me.”

You said it with such conviction, and although you didn’t look up it was spoken as plain as day. The sky is blue, and he hurt you . You tried to continue anyways.

“I don’t...know how to use magic. Not really. I just want to be safe. I’m sorry. I’m feeling better, I’ll be out by tomorrow, honest, I’m sorry, I’m--”

“Please.”

You stopped your nonsensical words, and dared to take a peak at him.

This is the softest he’s looked, face just a bit more relaxed, minus the tinge of a furrowed brow. 

“..I said you have a week.” A pause. “Let me look at your wound.”

Your exposed arm and shoulder throbbed at the mere mention of it, and you clutched it. 

“It’s alright.”

“I’m not asking.”

You paused, and sighed, and turned your body to expose more of the injury, the man walking up to you and leaned down to take a closer look.

Turns out, it had ripped open and blood was oozing from your flesh. He exhaled through his nose.

“You’ll need to be bandaged. It’s not deep, but it’s not a clean cut either. It’ll take time.”

He walked away for a moment, going to the other side of the study you had not been able to see. He came back with some supplies to patch you up. Seems he already had this planned out. He dabbed away the blood, wiping away the excess and pressing alcohol to your wounds to disinfect. You hissed, clawing at your skirt. Then came the ointment, which was quite soothing even if you didn’t know exactly what it was. Soon enough it was wrapped up tight in a bandage. 

“...Thank you.” If it weren’t for his vampiric senses he actually would have missed that you spoke at all. He simply hummed, and made notion for you to follow him again. 

He brought you back to the original room you had woken up in.

“Sleep. We’ll speak more in the morning.” Distant again. And he was gone.

What on God’s green Earth happened to you?

Alucard can suspect abuse, obviously . But the gravity of how worn down you are is honestly...unfathomable. He notices the scarring that littered your body, he’s not blind. He had half a mind of commenting on them, but thank God he didn’t, questioning you was a nightmare on its own. Looking at how you reacted to him, how you wouldn’t look him in the eye, hell you woke up screaming after four days of slumber. Alucard thought you had died with how quiet you had been during that period. He wonders...he wonders if you wish you had. He shudders at the thought. 

He knows he’s been quite...off-putting. But no one would blame him if they knew the horrors he’d also been through mere weeks ago. 

By that combination, he can understand why his father thought the human species a stain on this planet. Difficult to argue against it. They were wretched, putrid things. They killed each other out of greed and a want of power. And you were a perfect example of how much irrevocable damage that could cause to someone. 

But Alucard is far from perfect.

If he was being honest with himself, he nearly left you outside to rot away. Let the night monsters take you away while you slipped into unconsciousness. At least you wouldn’t feel it. But he couldn’t--what would his mother think of that? At the end of the day, Alucard was still a man with a heart. A cold, broken heart. But a beating heart. And his human side always reached out to try and care for others, loyal and kind to a fault. 

He tried to sleep after the final interaction with you. He couldn’t. Your dead eyes were haunting him. How you spoke tormented him.

He hurt me .

That’s all he could hear in his head, in your small voice. Someone owned you and abused you, and unlike the twins who couldn’t trust a single soul after that--even one that trusted them with everything he had--you were so fragile and scared to ever disappoint. He supposed it was ingrained in you, for better or worse he wasn’t sure yet. Alucard had tossed and turned for what felt like hours, before he got up. 

He wandered over to your room, and listened for steady breathing. Were you asleep? Would you sleep restfully? Would nightmares come?

He took the chance and cracked open the door, just a touch, to peer in. 

He saw you asleep, finally, covers kicked off yourself. You were in a fetal position, arms wrapped around yourself and legs scrunched up as high as they could go. You were shaking.

Alucard winced, how sad . 

Silently he walked in and gently covered you with the duvet, and left just as quietly as he entered.

He’s not sure how he’s going to talk to you at all in the morning.

[ashwhowrites]

Hi was wondering if you could do something with reader and eddie where in the beginning reader was shy quiet and bullied but as she got older she got bolder and tougher no one noticed her before except for eddie something really sweet and cute where eddie brings out her softer side and she's super cute with him and he can do no wrong

This is so cute. I hope you don't mind I do a headcanon :)

~~

Y/N used to be walked all over

She took every hit people gave her

But then she got older

She realized she didn't have to take anything from anyone

When she was bullied people barely knew her

Just shoving her aside

And now she still wasn't noticed by anyone

But she was fine with that

She only needed herself

She didn't need anyone or want anyone

Except Eddie Munson

She had the biggest crush on him for years

Not that he would know her

Eddie Munson noticed her though

He noticed her before she changed

When she was quiet and nice

Now she's tough and a bitch

And he for some reason really liked it

The way she went from shy to bitching anyone out

It kinda turned him on

He took the leap

He asked her out

Both shocked that she said yes

She squealed the second she got home

Eddie Munson asked her out

And now they've been together for a year

Hellfire was terrified to meet her

And they had a reason to be

She glared at them

Never spoke a word

Rolled her eyes constantly

But the second Eddie said one word

She giggled

Big smiles as she batted her eyelashes

She turned into this soft girl whenever he was near

She could be in the middle of a fight with anyone

But the second she sees him

She's skipping into his arms

She was only nice to him

And him only

She'd do anything he asked

And only if he asked

"um sorry to talk to you, but could you move over?" Mike asked, shaking in his shoes

"no" she snapped

"baby, can you move over just an inch?" Eddie asked softly

"absolutely!" She piped up, moving over easily as Mike sat down

Smiling at Eddie

Another thing?

Eddie could do no wrong in her eyes

He could crash her car

And she'd kiss his tears away

He could ruin her favorite pair of shoes

She wouldn't care

Mike wasn't watching where he was going

Biking into her car mirror

"FUCK" he panicked

He raced into hellfire

"Eddie Eddie! I need you to help me" he panicked

"what's up Mike?" Eddie asked as he set up Hellfire, but this time at his house

"I hit Y/N's car"

"YOU WHAT!" Eddie screamed

"I hit it with my bike and her mirror is ruined!"

"oh God okay don't panic" Eddie started

"she's in the shower. We'll just say..."

Y/N walked in fuming

"WHO HIT MY CAR? I CAN SEE IT THROUGH THE WINDOW!"

Everyone froze

Everyone looking at Mike

Her eyes snatched to him

"MIKE I WILL KILL YOU!"

"baby I did" Eddie said quick

Stepping in front of Mike

Her angry eyes calming in seconds

Her voice soft

"oh baby. You have to be careful. Are you okay?" She asked

Touching his body to see if he flinches

"yes I'm fine. I'm sorry" he apologized

"no it's okay" she said kissing his lips

Eddie Munson was the only person she was soft for

And the only person who could do no wrong

[aikoiya]

LoZ: TotK - My Thoughts on the Napsack Koroks

I get the feeling that the reason the Napsack Koroks give you 2 seeds to begin with is because this is not a test or an intentional puzzle on their parts. They legitimately need help &, if you notice, they don't even ask you for it.

They are not hidden. They are completely out in the open & simply say, "I got seperated from my friend, but I'm exhausted & can't move."

That means that, as far as how the game is likely supposed to work, Link elects to help them of his own accord. Then, when he does help them, they seem legitimately apologetic when they give him the seeds. "This is all I have."

In this way, I get the feeling that the Napsack Koroks aren't really a part of whatever shenanigans Hestu's up to with his buddies. (Which I just realized makes him sound like a delinquent dealing pouch upgrades like a flasher dealing "Rolexs.")

Which is sad because everyone seems to take out their revenge from last game's pain on these possibly unaffiliated Koroks who were just out on a hike!

Like, imagine if you were a little old lady who had trouble walking & some youngin walked up beside you, struck up a conversation, then when you said something like "I'm having trouble getting around these days, I'm not sure if I'll be able to be quick enough to get across the street without annoying the drivers," then the little shit just shoves you into oncoming traffic or when the cross indicator flashes, he grabs you by the hair & starts running across the street, dragging you along behind him. It just seems out of left field & unnecessarily cruel especially when you didn't even ask for help.

Then they make the excuse that you annoyed them by even mentioning it & that they did it due to previous bad experiences with other old ladies!

LoZ Wild Masterlist

[love-anddeepression]

HI ECHO!!!

I’m in love with you so I’m sending in a request

Could be spicy could not be

Joel with a reader who loves using her camcorder, recording Joel making his guitars, building, christmases, parties, dinners, you name it, she loves capturing their moments together

They’re driving together in the country, on a run outside of Jackson, and she has her camera and he looks to her and just “you ever thought about using that for somethin’ a little more… intimate, peach?”

Smut. Smut in the backseat of his truck. He’s just recording how you take him, and it’s so intimate and sweet.

GOOBER HI<33

so i actually don't write smut much so i decided to make this extra fluffy to compensate<33 i hope you like the ending :DD please tell me how you like it!

Three times Joel is in front of the camera and two times he's behind.

The first time he sees the camcorder recording him, he playfully shoves it out of his face and raises an exasperated eyebrow at his girl, who just smiles sweetly at him.

The second time, he finishing up with a guitar and he groans as he sees the blasted thing in his peripheral vision.

" Come on, Joel! Smile for me!" she says, laughing a little at his expression and much to his horror, he finds himself smiling widely at the camera before looking away. The sounds of delight that come from her make his lips twist again as he looks at her features that are bathed in golden sunlight.

"What?" she asks, the camera still in her hand.

He says nothing, only walks over and kisses her softly, rendering her speechless. He takes the opportunity and quickly snatched the camcorder and bolts out the door.

Later, they both laugh at the recording of his cheeky high pitched chuckle as her banshee screams echo in the background.

The third time, he's trying to make something for Ellie. And surprise, he's spectacularly failing at baking a cake.

---

His adorable huffs of annoyance make you giggle to yourself as you set the camcorder down on the counter, still recording, as you slowly approach him, caressing his shoulder first so you don't startle him, and hug him from behind as he whisks three eggs and adds them to the flour before anything else.

It's only when the camera starts beeping when she realizes she forgot is was there. By then, the two of them have made the cake and made out against the counter as well.

--

He's never been much of a dancer, before the outbreak, Tommy was the charmer, the one who loved taking girls dancing and bringing them back to his place.

Joel preferred watching. He'd always been the silent, observant older brother. Looking at every detail and aspect of everything around him. It was part of his job description as a construction worker.

That observant part of him slipped in as he shamlessly watched her dance with everyone during christmas celebrations. It's snowing, and cold, and he would be feeling miserable if it weren't for her. His darling, who found it fun to catch him off guard and record him, or who'd kiss him silly whenever she felt like it, his girl who was dancing with the girl who had become his daughter and lip syncing to whatever song was playing.

"I'm finally crazy" he thinks to himself as he goes inside the house and gets out the camcorder. But he can't help himself, he wants this moment to be preserved, so he can look at it again and remind himself why he bothered to go on.

He switches it on and begins to record.

---

This man has faced clickers, he's seen the worst humanity can offer. He's commited atrocious crimes and done much worse.

So he absolutely should not feel like getting out of the moving car and running back all the way to Jackson.

"Hon, you okay?" she asks him as he stops the vehicle near a field.

He only nods, kissing her forehead and breathing deeply as he fished into his bag to fish out her camcorder. When he finally find it, he switches it to records and sets it on the front panel so the both of them are in view.

"Joel?" she looks between him and the camera, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed.

He breathes out.

"Baby-

"What, Joel?" she asks him again, holding his left hand.

"You know I love you right? I'v found you when I thought i might never find it again. Meeting you was how I met Ellie and now we're all a family. An unofficial family." he clears his throat, " I love you so much, darling. And I have to ask you-" he pulls someting out of his pocket. A velvet box.

"Baby, will you make our family official and marry me?"

The last thing the camcorder sees is the loud exclaim of "Yes!" and laughter before it is unceremoniously knocked from it's spot as she lunges for him and kisses him hard.

But it recorded all the sound as well. It's safe to say Ellie won't be getting that camcorder anytime soon.

[covermeindinsbeskar]

Reflected Stars

Rating:eventually will be 18+ (some swearing, canon violence)

Word Count: 1,885

Summary: your are a bounty hunter. Your new to the guild, hoping to gain recognition. While hunting for your target you end up working along side one of the most feared bounty hunters in the galaxy.

Notes: it’s been a hot minute since I wrote a fic. This is a slow burn fic, but will get spicy ;) hope everyone enjoys! chapter 2

Chapter 1

You’ve come to this almost barren ice planet in search of your bounty. Your skills aren't as good as you would like them to be, but you're a damn good shot. You are hoping to get better recognized by the Hunters guild, Bounties rarely come your way. Work has been dry. This is the first real assignment the guild has given you. it should be simple; collect the target, bring him to the local guild outpost, Collect your payment, then back to Nevarro for the next job. You pull out your tracking fob which directs you into a cantina. Warmth! You silently cry. At least you’ll be able to have food and a beverage before taking the bounty down. scanning the room, you spot your target surrounded by a group of people. You take a seat at a booth and order a drink, without breaking your gaze from the target. Easing into the seat, you pull your hair into a ponytail. Your concentration is broken by an unknown voice behind you.

“Now what’s a pretty girl like you doing here?” slightly annoyed, you finish your drink in one swig, ignoring him.

“I'm talking to you girl!” that’s it. Anger flows through your body. Just as you are about to knock the shit out of this guy the cantina doors open. This startles one of the patrons who was with the target making him spill his drink. An armored man stands tall in the entrance. He walks to the bar, everyone's attention drawn to him, and the room falls silent.

"You spilled my drink," the patron yells in an alien language. He is being ignored. Although you cannot understand the sudden commotion, you can visibly see the patron's anger.

"I said... you spilled my drink!" The patron repeats.

"He said you spilled his drink; Don't worry about it. I will get you a new one on the house," the bartender says to the armored man before turning to make a new one.

The patron walks up behind the armored man with his group following him. You quickly notice the target is now alone. You turn your head to notice the armored man being surrounded by the group. One of the men shoves him from behind yelling in an alien language. Another goes in from behind to throw a punch which is quickly slipped by the armored man followed by a throw to the ground. The others quickly close in on him and in a flash, he shoots a cable from his wrist at the legs of one of the assailants binding them together. He falls smashing his head on a nearby booth. You look back to the target who is frantically gathering all his possessions off the table. He is going to make a run for it. You should follow him out while the whole cantina is distracted by the violence, you think. The group now realizes that they are dealing with a trained combatant rather than some bar rat, they reach for their blasters and begin to fire. The target runs out the door and you jump from the table after him. Your last glimpse before fleeing the cantina is the armored man firing back at the group.

You start to run with the target in sight. His figure flashing in and out through the swirling snow. The air feels like blades against your skin. Should’ve worn warmer gear. You grab your blaster and push yourself faster. Got you now! you lurch forward tackling him to the ground. You pin him down on his back and put your blaster to his forehead.

"Don't move." In terror, he throws his hands in the air.

"I'll pay you twice what I'm worth!" He pleads while you bind his hands together. You get off him with the blaster still pointed at him.

“Get up!” You demand. He complies in defeat. You push him in front of you making him trip on his own feet.

“Move it!” You yell,

“Ok! you know I-”

“I don’t want to hear it” you interrupt.

“Nothing you say will convi-” you stop mid-sentence feeling your feet come together so tightly you feel they may break. You fall to the ground, your blaster falling out of your hands in front you.

You raise your gaze to the target, his face twisted with fear. You seize your blaster and flip over onto your back. You are now face to face with the armored man from the cantina. Your legs bound and heart racing, time seems to stop. There is only silence as you peer into the T of the helmet, looking for any signs of life.

"Release me!" You protest. He stands tall with his blaster pointed between your eyes, saying nothing.

"Are you going to kill me?" Your voice stutters in fear. Who is this assassin in front of you? While you examine his body language, the target begins to bolt away from the two of you. The man behind you draws his blaster and strikes the target squarely on the shoulder.

You turn around to see the target hit the ground. You shuffle backwards, squirming away from the target. Only to look up at the man towering over you as your back collides with the shooter's legs. The sun shines in your eyes as he tilts his head down to look at you. Fear and curiosity wash over you. You peer through the visor for his eyes. This fails. Your investigation is interrupted by the sounds groaning from the target rolling around on the ground.

"What in the world was that for?" he exclaims. The shooter pulls a bounty puck from his pocket, revealing your target's face. The shooter quickly steps over you and towards the target. Shit. should have known he was a bounty hunter.

"I can bring you in warm... or I can bring you in cold..." he says finally.

“Hey! That’s my bounty!” You scream.

“Not anymore” the bounty hunter replies. You reach for the rope around your ankles and attempt to gain freedom.

“I got him first! It's only fair I finish the deal” you declare. The hunter tilts his helmet to the side. Is he even listening to me?

“Now, now you two... no need to fight over me!” the target speaks up.

“Shut up!” You yell back at him.

You look back to the bounty hunter “please... I really need this one.”

“there's always other jobs” he says back and begins to walk off with your target in his possession. The truth is this bounty was your ticket back to Nevarro for more work. You barely have enough credits to cover your board and food right now. You sigh and reach into your boot for your knife and begin cutting through the rope. finally feeling relief on your ankles, you stand up holstering your weapon and staring ahead as the two figures walk ahead of you into the distance.

“Wait!” You scream, running to catch up with them.

The hunter comes to a halt, his back turned toward you. His armor is battered from previous battles, but he wears it proudly.

"Let's bring him together," you say.

His helmet turns to his shoulder, "And why should we do that?" he wonders.

"As I said, I desperately need this. Without him, I won't be able to leave this planet," will he even care about this? This man clearly has no reason to help you. “I just need enough credits to get off this planet. The rest is yours." You finally confess. He ponders for a second.

“Listen lady, a Mandalorian would never share his bounty with some random person” the target blurts out.

He’s a Mandalorian? You observe. You’ve only ever heard stories, never saw one with your own eyes. He tenses up in response to the target's words.

“He wants credits, either way he’ll get them” you state. The Mandalorian lowers his shoulders and turns to face you.

“Fine. We'll take him in together,” you smile at his conclusion, clapping your hands together in celebration. He walks over and towers over you, “but I'm keeping all the credits. I'm going to Nevarro anyway, we can part ways there.”

you nod, “understood.” He turns on his heels, taking the bounty’s arm and walking on ahead.

You practically skip over to catch up, a smile on your lips as you walk alongside him. "Do you have a ship?" You inquire.

"Yes."

Man of few words.

You finally arrive at his ship after a long walk.

"A razor crest!" You exclaim, "pre-empire?" he only responds with a simple nod. The three of you walk up the ramp and into the cockpit. You stand at the entrance, taking in your surroundings. It definitely needs some repairs but, it’s organized and lived in. It feels comforting and warm.

"Nice ship," you say honestly.

The target shifts to the sole passenger seat about to claim it. The Mandalorian quickly pulls him away from it.

"You can stand," he insists

"That's very nice of you," says the target, rolling his eyes.

You stand sheepishly beside the target. Am I supposed to stand here too? The Mandalorian adjusts his seat comfortably in preparation for takeoff.

He turns his head to you, “sit” he orders.

“oh! Right, thanks..” you shuffle over to the empty seat, jumping onto it.

We were a few hours into our quiet departure. The only words being spoken are those of the targets who occasionally bargains for freedom. You glance at the Mandalorian, your gaze drawn to the galaxy reflected in his helmet. His helmet twinkles with every bit of light hitting it.

"Do you ever remove your helmet? must be uncomfortable" When you inquire, you are ignored.

"Do you have a name?" You sigh.

"No," he says as his helmet tilts to the side.

“No, you don’t have a name. Or no you don’t take off your helmet?” You pry.

"No to both," he spits. You sigh and look out the window at his response. you lean back into the chair, arms crossed. Who knows how long it’ll take to get to Nevarro, at least you’re trying to make conversation. Seems like it’ll be a quiet ride back.

You give him your name, hoping he’ll open up to more questions.

"I'll call you Mando from now on," you resolve. His upper body shifts towards you as if he is about to speak again.

"I'm sorry to interrupt this introduction, but can I use the Vacc Tube?" We both ignore him. "Trust me, if you've never seen a Fledgling Mythrol evacuate their florax, you're lucky!” he says again as he shuffles closer to the door. Mando fiddles with some controls while ignoring him even more.

"Um... I'll go look for that Vacc Tube," he decides as he walks out the door.

"Found it!" he exclaims from the bottom of the ship. You shift in your seat, suddenly nervous at the prospect of being alone with the Mandalorian.

"Are you going to let him get away?" You question.

"It might take me a minute!” The target exclaims.

"Gross," you mutter. Mando lets out a soft sigh, his modulator cracking.

He gets up and walks towards the door.

"What's your plan?" You ask, hoping you can help in some way.

"To deal with him." he sighs. Leaving you alone with nothing but the stars.

[sirens-sanctuary]

Deception

. Miguel Ohara x fem!reader

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. FWC (final word count): 5619

. TW: Attempted suicide, violence, a small bit of angst, hating your parents?

. (this is gonna have multiple parts :3, and this is very much a slow build story sorrrry)

. authors note, masterlist, rules, and taglist below ;3

There you were. Standing on the ledge of HQ, staring down at the ground below you.

The wind was blowing calmly through your hair, a soothing feeling.

You stood there, eyes shut just thinking. You breathed in calmly, and out shaking.

You want to feel something. Anything at all.

You heard him call out your name. Thats when you leaned forward and allowed yourself to fall, letting go of your worries, and the tinge of betrayal you felt.

You let yourself fall, not shooting out a web to catch yourself. You opened your eyes, seeing the ground get closer and closer to you, almost. As the wind rushed between your fingers, you began to think.

'Why am I here?'

You shut your eyes again, the ground so close, as if you could caress the pavement. Images surging through your mind, taking you back. Way back.

~~~~~~~~~~

[1 month prior]

"What do you mean I can't draw anymore money out? It's my money- is it not?" You asked the bank teller, annoyed that she won't help you.

"I'm sorry sweetie, but without you having some kind of steady income I can't draw out more money for you. I know this was left to you by your parents but the businesses that they had open aren't functioning anymore. I'm sorry I really am." The bank teller tells you regrettably, placing her hand on top of yours.

You flicked her hand off yours and looked down in your lap, "Okay, so you're saying if I get a job I can get more money out?"

"Yes-" You stood up before she could say anything else blurting out a 'thanks' and storming out of the bank.

You thought about how your parents screwed you up. You hated them with every part of your being.

They tested on you as a kid, shoving test tubes in and out of you, pricking you with needles, feeding you disgusting liquids and serums, hooking you up to machines and moniters.

They tested on you with spider venom and blood. Exposing you to dangerous amounts of radiation and gamma rays. As much as you tried not to think about the torture you went through as a kid, wishing you could only remember small bits and pieces. But unfortunately, you remember everything.

The testing they did on you gave you spider-like abilities. You could climb walls, shoot out webs from your wrist, made you extra sensitive to sounds, you could feel the vibrations of everyone walking and other things alike. Just something your parents cursed you with.

Your parents died. They were killed, probably pissed someone off. 'Deserved' You thought to yourself. After they died you had to live with your uncle Micheal and his shitty girlfriend Beth. Uncle Mike died too, you were more than upset. He was your rock and *poof* he was gone. His girlfriend moved on and wanted nothing to do with you, you were cool with that.

Dragging yourself from your thoughts you opened up the door to a diner. The sweet smell of buttercream pancakes and syrup flood your nose, the smell so strong you could almost taste the bacon.

You sat down at a booth and waited for a waitres to come up to you.

After about 5 minutes, a short blonde woman with a round face came up to you with a pen and pad.

"What can I getcha darling?" She had a sweet southern accent, surprising since you're in the north. Her name tag said, 'Donna' in pretty cursive writing.

"I'm uh- I'm actually wondering if I could get a job here?"

Her eyes widen slightly, but smiles softly.

"Yes of course sugar~ I'll be right back!"

You smile back at her and watches as she trails to the back of the diner.

As people begin to place their tips down and leave you realize how small and empty the place is.

The lady comes back with an equally as short and stubby man. A tall and lanky man comes out from the kitchen as well with a broom, he gives you a toothy grin.

'I'm gonna like it here.'

[2 weeks later]

You were wiping down tables and brushing crumbs on the floor. The lanky man you first met 2 weeks ago hands you a bottle of vinegar.

"Thanks Randy." You give Randall, or Randy as you like to call- him a smile when you grab the bottle from him. You spray small spurts on the table and wipe them down.

John; the stubby man from before, walks out from the kitchen and grabs a remote. He points the remote towards the small box tv in the corner of the diner and places his hands on his hips, flicking between channels before stopping on the news.

"Oh my god..." Donna says as she drops the broom on the floor and brings her hands to cover her mouth.

You flick your eyes up to the box tv, hearing everyone's cries coming from it. The sound of the news reporter being drowned out as you look at the villain on tv.

She's nothing you've ever seen before. She's different than the other villains you usually fight.

She was a tall, 7-8 feet. She was semi-reptile with dark green hair and piercing yellow eyes.She was scaling the side of the empire state...

It looked like she didn't belong here...

You snapped out of your trance and began to speak up.

"I uh I have to um go- I have to uh... i have a doctors appointment."

You began to rush towards your bag, the bag that has your spider suit in it.

"Johnny we should just tell her we know.." Donna says in a hushed voice.

You freeze in your tracks.

'They know? How do they know?'  You weren't going to lie to them anymore. After these long two weeks Randy, Donna and John have become your...third family.

"H-how?" You say walking into the bathroom with your stuff. You slipped out of your work uniform quickly and put on your spider suit. You walk out the bathroom with your mask in hand looking at their faces.

"You leave at odd hours, or whenever someone is attacking the city," Randy speaks up giving you a somber look.

"I'm the one that brought up the bruises to everyone, wanted to make sure I wasn't the only one that saw them." John says chuckling a little to lighten the mood.

'I could've hidden those better' You think to yourself as you pull your mask on.

"Well. Guess it's out then. I'll be back, I always am."

You ran out of the diner, but looked back and waved before you slung out a web and pulled yourself away.

You swing from rooftop to rooftop, getting as close as you can to Empire state. You didn't even think as you swung yourself onto the building, scaling up the building faster than you ever have. The sounds of people screaming and glass breaking flooding your senses, your muscles screaming at you to stop climbing.

"HEY." You scream as you ram your foot into the reptiles face, barreling her inside the building.

"Who the fuck are you- what are you?"

"Fia."  She growls her name at you as she lunges forward, gripping you in between her large hands.

You two are falling through the air, getting closer and closer to the ground.

You punch at Fia but she doesn't let go.

You begin to tear up, thinking this may be your last time alive. You claw and scratch at Fia but she doesn't let up, she smiles devilishly at you.

You shut your eyes.

You feel a strange warmth and light engulf you.

You hit the ground hard causing you to scream out.

You cough and roll over to your side, you peel your mask off and open your eyes taking in your surroundings.

'Where the hell am I..?'

You hear Fia yell, saying something along the lines of let me out. You turn over and see her stuck inside a red-like net and other...Spider-people? around her.

"Are you ok?"

You whip your head back around as you hear a husky voice beside you.

It's a man with sharp features and tan skin, hair slightly below his ears, he's..cute.

"What the fuck~" You slur and say with a confused look before falling back and passing out, everything fading to black...

๑۞๑,¸¸,ø¤º°°๑۩ ร𝓲ᖇᵉŇ. ๑۩ ,¸¸,ø¤º°°๑۞๑๑۞๑,¸¸,ø¤º°°๑۩ ร𝓲ᖇᵉŇ. ๑۩ ,¸¸,ø¤º°°๑۞๑

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. A/N: AAHHHHHH OMG OMG I finally typed this out I was having a bit of trouble trying to figure out how this was going to work but I figured it out! i hope anyone that reads this enjoys. also, feel free to leave a request! I'll also be making a taglist soon, and pleasse leave feedback for me to improve or change thanks! <3

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