#now they’re aged up in this fic—but my point still stands | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

javiscigarette · 1 year ago

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Bad Fun

Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Jealous Joel takes you in the bar bathroom. (Inspired by the like five jealous Joel requests that have been sitting pretty in my inbox for weeks).

Warnings: smut, established relationship, (semi) public sex, slapping, degradation, hair pulling, pretty rough (consensual!) sex, possessive Joel <3, heavy on the dirty talk and daddy kink no use of y/n

w/c: 3.4k

A/N: Answered a request? How very unlike me. Idk why but you guys were thirsty for jealous Joel but I am not complaining! Also two fics in a week? who am I turning into?

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You can feel his eyes on you, even with your back turned to him. And you can see the way the men look over your shoulder, casting anxious glances at the man who’s now giving them an icy glare.

“Well, if you ask me, I’d say you’re far too young and pretty to be hanging around with a man like that” one of them says as he casually places a hand on your midback.

You raise an eyebrow at him, but you don’t say anything about his hand on you.

“A man like what?” you ask innocently.

Almost everyone in Jackson knew about you and Joel. The two of you were practically glued at the hip, if there was one of you, then the other wasn’t far away. Joel usually had a protective arm draped your shoulders, keeping you safely tucked away under his arm. Or a hand tucked in the back pocket of your jeans as you walk the streets of Jackson together, giggling at some inside joke like you were the only two people in the world.

And most men knew that you were off limits. Most of them were smart enough not to test Joel like that, fully aware of the repercussions that come with going after his girl. But these younger men, the one’s around your age, were still ballsy enough to push the boundaries.

The man laughs, his hand slowly sliding further down your back.

“He’s just a bit old for you, isn’t he? He’s like 50, isn’t he?”

You bite your lip to hold back a laugh. You glance over your shoulder at Joel where he’s seated at a table across the room with Tommy and a few other guys from patrol. He has his front turned to you as he leans back in chair, one hand wrapped around his glass of whiskey and the other resting casually on his crotch. His eyes are dark as he watches you carefully and a small but dangerous smirk is tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“More years of experience” you quip, turning back around and taking a sip from the cocktail that one of them bought for you.

The boys laugh, and the hand on your back slides down even lower until he’s inches away from your ass. You allow it, fully aware that Joel is still watching you.

“Maybe” he says, stepping closer towards you and closing the space “But I bet I could last longer than him.”

You supress another laugh as images of Joel fucking you into the mattress for hours flashing through your head. If only they knew.

“Buy me another drink and maybe I’ll want to find out if you’re right” you say, looking at him through your lashes trying to feign innocence.

The man smirks, entire too confident in his abilities to pull someone else’s girlfriend, much less Joel Miller’s girlfriend. You giggle as he rushes to turn around and find the bartender, flagging him down and pointing to your empty glass.

These men are cute enough, boyish faces with a youthful sparkle in their eyes. Still, they’re obviously not you’re type and you’re far from being interested in slightest.

It’s not the flirting that fun, it’s what comes after.

Joel watches you for a few more minutes, his skin growing hot with jealousy as he watches the man inch his hand further and further down your back. But he doesn’t intervene. If he didn’t know any better, those men would be on the floor before they even got the chance to touch you.

But he’s not that naïve. He’s played this game with you before and he knows exactly what you want.

He downs the rest of his whiskey and sets the glass on the table before standing up and heading towards the bathroom. He crosses your line of sight on the way but doesn’t make any effort to acknowledge you.

He knows you’re watching.

“I’ll be back, you boys have fun without me” you say quickly before finishing your drink and setting the empty glass on the bar. You don’t give them a chance to respond before you’re slipping away and heading towards the bathroom.

Your entire body is vibrating with excitement as you practically run after Joel, heady desperation mixing with the alcohol in your veins. There’s only one bathroom and you only have to knock once before Joel swings the door open and yanks you inside. You giggle with excitement as he pushes you up against the door and clicks the lock in place.

With one hand on your hip, he shoves a knee between your legs so that his thick thigh presses firmly against your core.

“Such a fuckin’ slut” Joel growls. He brings his other hand up to grip your jaw, his fingertips digging in your cheeks and squeezing so hard that your mouth pops open.

“Can’t leave you alone for two goddamn seconds without you whorin’ yourself out.”

The whiskey is heavy on his breath and his eyes are dark, his pupils blown from the liquor and lust making you clench around nothing, already hopelessly turned on. His grip on your both your hip and jaw are firm and unforgiving, serving as an indicator for what’s about to go down. You know that you probably shouldn’t push him more than you already have, but you can’t resist.

“They were saying they could fuck me better.”

Joel’s jaw tightens and his scowl deepens as he narrows his eyes at you. He’s still for a beat, and you bat your eyelashes at him innocently. Then within an instant, he manhandles you over to the sink, pinning your front against the fake marble countertop with his hips. You giggle again when you feel the bulge in his jeans pressing firmly against your ass as he holds you tight against him.

He snakes an arm up the front of your body, his forearm resting heavy and warm between your breasts as he grips your jaw once again, forcing you to look straight ahead. Your gaze meets his in the mirror and a hot wave of arousal washes over you as he slips his other hand between your legs.

“Jesus fuck” he groans quietly when he feels how wet you are.

“I know what your little plan is, sweetheart” Joel murmurs as his fingers feather over your swollen, dripping seam. “Actin’ like a fuckin’ slut to get me to bend you over and make you stupid on my cock, right angel?”

You just grin smugly and back up against him. His eyes get even darker, and you can see the muscles in his jaw flexing subtly under his skin.

You nod weakly and whine at his words, a jolt of electricity shooting down your spine as try to grind down on his fingers, desperately chasing after any sort of friction. But Joel’s not having it. He moves his hand away from your jaw briefly so he can deliver a sharp smack to your cheek. It’s not hard enough to truly hurt, but it’s definitely enough to make your eyes snap open and your skin tingle for a few seconds.

“Use your words” Joel hisses, his fingers curling around your jaw once again.

“Yes, Joel.”

Another quick slap.

“And mind your fuckin’ manners.”

You whine again before correcting yourself.

“Yes, daddy”

Joel groans and rolls his hips against your ass in approval. You whimper when his hand leaves your core, but you’re quickly rewarded when he slides his two fingers, damp with your slip past your lips. You suck on them happily, satisfied with something finally in your mouth. You languidly roll your tongue around them, licking off arousal and coating them liberally with your saliva. Joel watches you through the mirror and leans in until his mouth is inches away from your ear.

“Look at that” he whispers, his warm breath fanning over your ear and jaw. “My dirty little girl, so desperate for her daddy.”

Hi cock twitches against you as he watches your eyes roll back as drool starts to leak out of the corner of your mouth, a small drop sliding down your chin. He curses under his breath and slowly removes his fingers from your mouth. You whine at the loss, but the sound quickly melts into a loud, drawn-out moan when he shoves them inside of you. He doesn’t give you any time to adjust, just starts pumping his two fingers in and out of you at a dizzying pace. He watches you in the mirror and forces you to watch too, his grip tightening on your face.

“So fuckin’ wet for me already, angel” Joel groans. “Does actin’ like a goddamn whore turn you on, baby? S’that why your little pussy is already dripping all over my fingers?

“Daddy please” you pant, already embarrassingly close to release.

He just chuckles breathlessly as you squeeze around his fingers. Another loud moan tumbles past your lips when he adds a third finger. It burns in the best way, your sensitive walls stretching out around his thick fingers.

But he suddenly stills his fingers inside of you and the pleasure starts to quickly fade. You whimper and wiggle your hips, already missing the sensation.

“Be a good slut and fuck yourself on daddy’s fingers.”

You make a garbled sound in your throat and immediately start to grind your hips back. You try to position your body to get his fingers deep like they were before, but it’s no use. Only he knows how to get that perfect angle. With a frustrated huff and no other options, you double down on your efforts. You curl your fingers over the beveled edge of the fake marble countertop and push your hips back.

The lewd squelching sounds of his fingers working your tight cunt open bounce off the walls of the small bathroom and into your ears, sending a wave of heat down your body. He groans next to your ear when you start squeezing his fingers so hard that you’re almost forcing them out.

“Greedy fuckin’ slut” Joel whispers. “You gonna cum like this?”

He’s well aware that it’s not enough. But he loves to watch you try.

“Can’t, Joel” you whine. You yelp when Joel pulls his fingers from you and delivers a sudden smack to your ass.

“What’s my fuckin’ name?” Joel hisses, squeezing your jaw even tighter. You wouldn’t be surprised if you found bruises in the shape of his fingertips in the morning.

“Daddy” you whine, high pitched and needy.

He grunts approvingly then suddenly removes his fingers. You whimper quietly at the loss and watch through the mirror moves to unbuckle his belt. He shoves his jeans down just enough to free his cock then bunches the hem of your dress around your waist.

“Tell me something, baby” Joel sighs, using both hands to spread your cheeks and exposing your burning heat to the cool room of the air. “Do you think they could fuck you better than I can?”

“No, daddy” you reply without missing a beat.

Joel hums but doesn’t say anything as he takes a half step forward, pressing his cock against your dripping seam. You moan softly at the sensation, the smooth, warm skin of his tip rubbing against your puffy clit. He starts to rock his hips, slowly dragging his cock back and forth through your folds, lubing himself up with your slick.

“Are you this fuckin’ wet for them?” he rasps, his fingertips digging into your hips.

“No, daddy” you gasp.

“Then who’s this pussy so needy for?” Joel taunts, the fat tip of his cock notching at your entrance.

You clench around nothing and ty to push your hips back against him, but the sharp spank he lands on your ass stops you.

“You daddy! Please daddy, only for you.”

“That’s right, angel” Joel praises, bringing both hands to your hips. “You’re fuckin mine.”

With that, he pushes inside and buries himself to your hilt in one fluid movement. Your knees buckle and your head falls forward, hanging between your shoulders, but the arm he wraps around your waist keeps you upright. He holds you tight in place and snaps his hips against your ass, knocking all the air out of your lungs and getting impossibly deep with each thrust. You try to bite back the loud moans but it’s a lost cause when he finds the angle where his tip kisses your cervix with every stroke.

He starts pounding into you faster and removes his arm from your waist, his hand now trailing up your back instead. He fists his hand in your hair and pulls your head up and holds you there, forcing you to look ahead in the mirror.

“You keep your eyes on me. Since you seem to have trouble rememberin’ who fuckin’ owns you”

Your eyelids flutter, but you don’t dare close them. You stare at him through the mirror, eyebrows drawn together with your mouth hanging open, strained whines and moans slipping past your lips as he continues with his brutal pace. And he just smiles down at your almost cruelly.

Joel laughs breathlessly from behind you when you let out a loud, broken moan and your cheeks heat up at the sound, knowing that there are people less than five feet away on the other side of the wall. It’s mortifying for you, but it only fuels Joel’s fire.

“M’not gonna cover your mouth, sweetheart” Joel grunts, tightening his grasp in your hair even more. “Want you to let everyone in this bar know who’s fuckin’ you this good”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head and the sounds start to freely pour out of you. The way he’s pounding relentlessly right into your g-spot causes the heat swirling in your belly to start burning hotter. Your knees are starting to buckle and your fingers scramble on top of the countertop, searching for purchase on the smooth surface as you try to keep yourself upright.

Joel isn’t any help. He just watches you carefully in the mirror as he slams into you so harshly that you’ll probably have light purple bruises on your hips from where you keep hitting the edge of the counter. And the way his cock starts pulsating inside of you when you start clenching around him drives you both crazy.

Your whole body feels on fire now with tingles spreading from your lower abdomen and up your spine to the rest of your body. You know he won’t let you finish. You’ve gotten yourself in this exact situation more than enough times to know that. And you also know how annoyingly in tune he is with your body he is, noticing every single miniscule cue you display.

So, you try to hide it. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, trying to suppress your moans and you try to take deep breaths to calm yourself down, but it’s no use when you start to shake. Joel groans then lets out a dark chuckle from behind as you tremble and reflexively clamp down around him, letting you know that yeah, of course he fucking noticed.

He leans forward while simultaneously pulling your back by your hair until his lips are brushing the shell of your ear and whispers “Bad girls don’t get to cum”

He then pulls out and takes a step back fisting his cock.

“Get on your knees” Joel commands before you even have the chance to whine at the sudden loss.

You automatically sink to your knees, leaning heavily into the sense of submission that starts to cloud your brain. He looks down at you and smirks at the captivated look on your face as you watch him steadily stroke his cock. The thing is, you can pick up on his cues too, no matter how much he tries to hide behind the façade of his dominance. You can see it in the way his heaving chest starts to flush, the dark blush spreading up his neck and to his cheeks. His breaths get quicker, fand he has a harder time keeping the whines out of his moans.

You look up at him from your spot on the floor with wet, glassy eyes and he curses under his breath at the sight.

“Open your mouth, baby.”

You obey and part your wet lips.

“Good girl” he groans, taking a step forward until he’s inches away from your face. “Daddy’s gonna cum in your mouth, babygirl. D’ya want that?”

You nod vigorously and give him a small whimper for good measure.

“Please, daddy” you whisper, sticking your tongue out.

Joel curses again and his hand on his cock starts to move faster while his free hand moves to the back of your head. Your scalp is already sore from the grasp he had on it earlier so you’re relieved when he doesn’t pull, just gently tangles his fingers in your hair to hold your head in place.

“Knew you would. You’re just a slut for daddy’s cum, aren’t you?” he teases breathlessly.

“Please daddy!” you whine again, not at all ashamed of the desperation in your voice.

Joel grunts and his wrist faulters again as he stares at your awaiting tongue. You wait as patiently as you can, subtly trying to squeeze your thighs together searching for any bit of friction you can get.

“Fuck angel you look so good like this” he groans, his hips involuntary rolling up to meet his fist. “On your knees waiting for daddy to cum like a good fuckin’ slut.”

You glow under his praise and start to say something, but Joel’s breathing starts getting heavier and his grunts and moans are getting louder and before you can say anything, he’s thrusting his hip forward to slide his tip past your lips.

You instantly wrap your lips around him and he doesn’t push in any further, just keeps the tip in your warm, awaiting mouth, his cock pulsing as he unloads rope after rope of hot cum. You try your best to keep eye contact with him, but the feeling of his hot, salty release on your tongue has your eyelids fluttering as your head starts to go dizzy and floaty.

You also try your best to keep his cum on your tongue, knowing that there was a reason that he didn’t push in all the way and fuck your throat. But it’s so much, it’s always so fucking much that you can’t stop some of it from sliding down your throat.

“That’s my good girl, My go- ah fuck baby” Joel cuts himself off with a careless moan. You can feel your slick starting to leak out of you and down your thighs at the sound.

“My good fuckin’ girl. All fuckin’ mine.”

He hisses when you dip your tongue into his oversensitive slit and reluctantly pulls out of your mouth. You press your lips together, keeping your mouth closed and look up at him expectantly. He smiles down at you, his scowl gone and replaced by a lopsided, sated smile.

Then he brings a thumb up to your bottom lip and tugs down softly and whispers “Show me.”

You comply, opening your mouth and proudly showing him the small puddle of his cum on your tongue.

“Now swallow, baby.”

You do as your told, closing your mouth and swallowing, then opening again to show him.

“Good girl” he praises gently. “So good for your daddy.”

You beam up at him, absolutely melting under his praise. He removes his hand from your hair and reaches out to help you stand up again. He straightens out your dress, making sure to “accidentally” brush his fingers through the mess between your legs.

“Now,” he starts, tugging the straps of your dress so that they sit evenly on your shoulders. “Go out there and talk to those boys again with the taste of my cum on your tongue.”

Your skin heats up and you look at him with wide, silently pleading eyes. Those men were only feet away from the bathroom door. If they didn’t see you two go in together, they definitely heard you.

And that’s exactly what Joel intended. So, he just gives you a devilish grin then pat your bum.

“Go on, sweetheart. Be a good girl. For your daddy.”

#joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #Joel miller #the last of us #tlou #pedro pascal smut #javiscigarette

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josephquinnswhore · 11 months ago

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Red Wine & Reparation - joel miller x female reader

Summary: you and Joel became young parents, married young and divorced young.. coparenting can be hard.. especially when you still love each other.

Word Count: 7k

Content Warnings: no outbreak, awkward divorced young couple, Joel Miller being a cat guy, flirting, awkwardness, slight implication of attempted SA. Unprotected sex, oral—female receiving, praise, pet names, tongue fucking, slight submissive Joel???? Creampie, mentions of pregnancy, and breastfeeding kink ??

Note: in this fic female reader & Joel are the same age in this fic!! This is my contribution for this week lol.

You were expecting a visit from Joel in a few hours; although you’d tried to be in contact with him, it seemed he was struggling to get back to you. Texts gone unanswered, calls sent straight to voicemail. It was unusual, and as clingy as you felt, it wasn't like Joel not to be in contact, especially when it came to your daughter, Sarah.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

He calls your name from the other side of the door. “Hey, you home?”

The door swings open and Joel stands on the other side of the door, you can't ignore the subsequent look of franticness in his brown eyes. “Hey.” His second greeting is a little more relaxed, if anything a little bashful. The tips of his ears are red under his dark brown curls.

“I just got a new phone, had a little malfunction at work with the other one, mind putting your number in?” You take the new phone, something that seemed way too fancy for Joel, an Iphone 13. As if your eyebrows raise of their own accord, it doesn't go unnoticed by him.

“I never took you for a man that cared about keeping up with the trends.” Your remark earns a scoff. “I just want to be able to keep up with everything Sarah’s into these days, all the facebooking and snapping or whatever she's got.”

His social unawareness pulls a laugh from her dry throat. “I'm surprised she wants you on her snapchat, teenage girls don’t normally want their parents seeing what they’re up to.”

He grunts. “How are you anyway—both of you.. I mean.”

“Things have been okay, I've taken a step back from work to try and relax a bit more, you know?” Although Joel nods, he can't relate, he’d just gone through the ringer of starting his own business with Tommy.

But Joel knows you need a break, he notices the physical telltale signs of stress. Lines beside your eyes that didn't seem visible a few months ago, the slight strain in yout voice and even your physical stance seems off. You seem to be trying to mask it, but he notices.

“Everything at work alright? They givin’ you trouble again?”

Again. How you'd forgotten about the last time you confided about how bad work had been getting. The unpaid overtime and extensive workload. Joel seemed furious at the thought of you wearing yourself thin and had even rung your workplace, that's an incident that got you a written warning.

In an attempt to dismiss his worries you wave your hand. “Ah it's not so bad, I’ve taken some time off with what little annual leave I have.”

“That’s good. You work too hard, you do.” His voice is softer than it had been a moment ago, his gaze settling on your own. He tries his hardest to suppress the memories as he stares into your eyes, he tries to forget how easy things were back then in comparison to now.

You break eye contact as you feel your kitten rubbing herself up against your legs. The little creature lets out a small mew.

Joel’s shock is evident on his face, the fluffy white bundle of fur rubs itself along your pant leg, its tiny mews echoing in his ears. “Oh my god, what in the world..” He stammers. “Is that…?”

Your entire face heats up. “I know.. I've never been a fan of cats but.. She's cute right?”

Joel can't help the instinctual reaction to kneel down onto the floor to get a closer look at the fluffy bundle of fur. He lets the small creature sniff his hand before petting her. With every stroke of his fingers along her pointed ears, she purrs louder. “What's her name?”

“Her names angel. Sarah named her.”

“Of course she would,” Joel murmurs, still petting the kitten as he looks up at you from the floor. “How'd you end up with a kitten anyhow?”

You huff at the memory. “Found her on the side of the road, I think someone dumped her.”

“God, that’s terrible. Why would anyone do something like that? Who just dumped a living animal in the middle of the road?” He shakes his head as he grumbles angrily. He strokes the kitten in a softer manner, expressing his sympathy for the little animal.

You're stewing in your own irritation at the thought. “Some jackass.”

The conversation seems to grow quiet, with the only noise being the kitten’s contented purrs. “She's a lucky kitty is what she is, havin’ two special girls lookin’ after her.” He murmurs, leaning in to tickle the small kitten under the chin with a chuckle.

“I never took you for a cat man, hell—you're looking like such a softie right now,” you tease.

“It's the one thing you never really knew then, right?” The kitten rolls on its back, purring as it scratches itself on the soft creamy carpet. “I bet you would’ve known all my soft spots had things been different back then.”

A sombre mood falls between the two. “Maybe so..”

Joel turns away with a regretful look in his eyes, it's a painful truth, and one the pair had both seemed to accept. Despite the way the two had seemed to adapt to the co-parenting situation.. They're both reminded every single day since their split of what could have been.

“Yeah.. maybe so.” He lets out a sigh, watching as the small kitten runs off, and he's left kneeling on the floor as he watches after it. He doesn't really know what to say.. And he's not sure you do either, it’s awkward to have these quiet moments between them.

“You know.. Sarah told me you went on a date last week.” You try to sound as encouraging as possible, but even as your heart cracks, it seems to break the silence brewing between you. And honestly, you’re nosey.

His face seems to redden at your playful accusation. “Damn.. she really has no filter, does she?” An awkward chuckle follows as he lets out a small groan and his knees crack as he stands up off the floor. As his gaze meets your own again, he wonders how you'll take the news. If he’s lucky, you’ll be jealous.

“She's a smart kid.. observant.” A small moment of silence briefs the conversation before you can stop yourself from asking.. “How was it? The date I mean.”

“That she is..” Joel murmurs before adding reluctantly. “The date was just.. Not a good fit. It didn't go well.” He shrugs, but you knew it would've been a massive blow to his self esteem. “I don't know why I tried… just thought.. maybe..” He rubs the back of his head and chuckles anxiously as he trails off.

It seems his self esteem did take quite the blow.

“Don't be so hard on yourself now, you're a catch, and any good woman will see that.”

Joel’s eyes narrow into a frown. “I'm hardly a catch.. Let's be real, I work too much.” He pauses. “Maybe I'm still caught up on..” He catches himself before he admits it..

Your ears perk at this. “Who doesn't love a hardworking man.” You tease lightly.

He manages a smile at your teasing. “I’m not a catch.. this..” He gestures to himself pitifully. “Is not a catch. Truth be told I’m.. I'm still pretty caught up on you and I'm not even ashamed to say it.”

“Hell—why?” Is all you manage to ask in a stutter.

“Because..” He lets out a frustrated noise and scratches his head anxiously. “Because I should have fought for you, I should have tried harder. You were everything I wanted. Still are.. Honestly.” His tone takes a solemn tone. “That doesn't just go away, all of those feelings.”

“You're right.. They don't just go away.” Your agreement to his statement has him wondering, his eyes searching your face for any sliver of teasing.

“So.. what does that mean? If I was to say.. If I was to ask something stupid.. Would you be angry?”

You're a little confused by his sudden bashfulness. “That depends on what you're asking.”

“Hypothetically..” He starts. “If I were to ask you out on a date, for old times sake..” He trails off and doesnt look back at you, there's a pregnant silence between you both..

“You want to take me on a date?” You ask in confusion.

He clears his throat and looks up to you, his eyes shifting around the room. “Is that a stupid question?”

“Well.. how about you ask me on a real date and maybe… I’ll say yes..”

His head spins in a daze, his heart doubles in size as he realises how much he wants this. “...are you serious?”

You simply nod, waiting for him to ask you on a date properly.

He's nervous, shifting from foot to foot, as if this was the hardest thing he's ever had to ask. “Okay then..” He mumbles to himself, clearing his throat, trying to steady his voice. “Would you care to.. Join me for a dinner date.. at my place?”

He actually asked..

“I would be happy to join you for dinner, Joel.”

It seems as if he's having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that you actually accepted. Even though it's what he wanted, needed.. He had somehow still expected you to decline. The look in your eye contractics his anxiety, though.

“You sure?” He asked, insecurity evident in his shallow voice. “I mean, you still remember how much I work, right? I have to finish this job for a client, he's on my ass about it, keeps asking me when I'm gonna be finished, but I told him I'm on track. Gonna put in some big hours to get this done.”

How could you forget, it was the reason you split all those years ago. His work was all consuming.

Your heart aches at his attempt to push you away–to take your pending rejection on the chin. “How about you let me know when you're free and you can cook for me, hm?”

The offer was flexible, giving him a chance to relieve himself of the pressure and try to find a day that works for you both.

Joel seemed to appreciate the offer, and his face visibly relaxed. “That sounds perfect, as soon as this project is done, and this client is off my ass, then we’ll figure out our date.”

“Sounds great, just send me a text and let me know, yeah?” You smile and tuck your phone into your jean pocket.

“Count on it.” He spoke with such promise it was hard not to get excited about what was to come.. Maybe they could rekindle what they once had. “I'll talk to you later then?” He takes a step towards the front door, his phone rings loudly, you assume it's a client of his.

“Yeah, we’ll talk later..”

As you close the door, it takes a moment to process what had just happened. A stupidly big smile resides on your lips, giddy with excitement, the disbelief that this is happening. Joel doesn’t text till late, but you’re ecstatic that he did get into contact about something other than who has custody of Sarah for the weekend.

Joel Miller 😉 10:45 pm

Hey, I'm sorry it's late, I just wanted to catch up. How's this weekend sound to you? For our date..

You. 10:47 pm

No sweat. What time were you thinking?

Joel Miller 😉 10:50 pm

Hoping to see you around 7. I'll cook dinner and we can just hang out. Unless you wanted to do something else?

You. 10:52 pm

No. it sounds perfect. 7 works for me.

Joel Miller 😉 10:53 pm

Great.. See you at 7 then.. Saturday..

You. 10:53 pm

Great! See you then handsome. 😉

Joel Miller 😉 10:58 pm

See you, beautiful. ��😏😊

You can't help but laugh at the emojis Joel sent; he was such an old man that didn't understand a damn thing about technology, sure he was trying, but it seemed to get the better of him.

The week is slow and miserable, with your time off work and Sarah at school, you're not sure what to do with yourself for many hours of the days that slowly pass on by. You spend a lot of time reading your books that had sat and collected many layers of dust on the bookshelf in your living room, even taking your little kitten, angel, for walks on a small leash.

You find that as you become moderately okay with being alone, and in the company of naught but a small kitten, time seems to pass by much quicker than it did.

You'd been doting on what you'd wear all week–hell, you were still trying not to think too much about it. Choosing a simple lavender sundress, it was far too hot to wear anything that would stick to your skin. And whatever sin you’ve commited by wearing matching lavender lingerie is no one's business but your own.. Joel wouldn't know anyway.

It couldn't hurt to hope, right? It had been years since you been laid.

“God what the hell is wrong with me?” You murmur to yourself, one hand desperately clutching onto a bottle of red wine, as if you couldn't make it any more awkward. It's 6:50 pm. But you couldn't bare to sit across the damned street in your car a moment longer, your heart ager and anxiety running wild.

Knock, knock. Your hand raps on the hardwood door twice, hands shaking from being so anxious.

As the door opens, Joel grins. “Hey.. you're early.” Taking in his appearance, you can't help but swallow the saliva that had built up in the few seconds you’d spent greedily staring at him. Hell— it was only a brown cotton shirt and a pair of jeans, but he looked incredible.

“I know.. I hope that's okay.” His own eyes take a moment to appreciate your outfit, the perfectly fitting seam of lavender purple that fits snug around your breasts.

“Totally fine, I’m ready in here.. I made you something special.” The grin on his face is cheeky and he takes the bottle of wine from your trembling hands and opens the door wider for you to enter. “Come on in.”

He has absolutely outdone himself, it seemed Joel had managed to clean the entire house in the week coming up to this evening. The house is cleaner than it's ever been, his kitchen is full of colour of fruits and a wonderful aroma swirls around as you walk through the hallway. The counter is a little cluttered with spices and a half drunken can of beer.

“You've absolutely outdone yourself joel.” The compliment seemed to naturally expel from your lips, seeing how he had set the dining table up, in the middle was a simple summer salad and two wine glasses, as if he knew you'd be bringing the wine..

“I would be a terrible host if I didn't have something special in store for you..” As he trails off, the sound of a timer from the kitchen buzzes, and Joel rubs his hands together. “Here, why won't you take a seat?” He pulls the chair out, waiting for you to take the offer, of course you accept, taking a seat and he tucks your chair in.

“Be back in a moment with the food, make yourself comfortable.” The smell is absolutely incredible as Joel steps back out of the kitchen and sets a steaming pan of hot pasta right in front of you, sitting on the seat across from you.

“Jesus, how in the world? I remember all those years ago you couldn't even seem to grasp the concept of avocado toast.”

Joel laughs halfheartedly at your comment. “I wasn't much of a cook back then was I? Always relying on you to use your magic in the kitchen.” He grasps the wine and opens the bottle, pouring you a generous glass. “The fact that you remember that is pretty impressive though. That had to be what.. five or six years ago?”

You can't help but feel embarrassed to be caught out. “I guess I have a knack for remembering things, god.. Sarah would have been barely five back then..”

When you split..

Joel senses the tension in your voice, and serves himself some wine, taking a small sip. “Yeah, she was pretty young back then. It seems like only yesterday that she was a baby..” He takes a small pause as he reminisces. “I always liked when you carried her around in that sling you had for her. Never really understood why you didn't just use a pram..the sling seemed like much more work.”

You let out a small laugh. “I just liked having her close to me, and I hated those goddamn prams so much. I could never figure out how to use the stupid things.”

“Yeah, they were kinda bulky.. I never liked them much either, honestly. Still.. You'd spend like an hour just letting her nap on your chest, you would just carry her around the house.” He lifts the wine glass, his cheeks bare a resemblance to the dark red wine. “I always thought it was kinda adorable.”

The thought makes you stop and think, lifting the glass up to your lips to take a tentative sip. “Do you ever wish we could have a do over?”

He swallows the small amount of wine in his mouth, the smile that was on his face slowly fades. He never thought they would ever speak of this, of their past. He held a lot of guilt, that they fell apart because of him, he was the one who ruined a good thing. Now.. six years later, he had a chance to mend things, maybe even create something new between the two. “Every day.”

The silence hangs in the air between them for a few moments.. “Well.. either way. Sarah turned out wonderful, and that is something we both ought to be proud of.” Your hand meets his own for a brief moment.

Joel can't help but nod in agreement. Sarah was kind, intelligent, thoughtful and empathetic. He couldn't help but feel like Sarah was turning out more like you than him, and he was grateful for it. “But still, I can't help but want.. I don't want a do-over. What we had was good until I screwed it up, I just wish there was some way I could make up for that.”

“Hey—come on now.. You were working overtime back then..trying to keep our heads above water. I didn't.. I didn't understand the sacrifice you were making for our family back then.. You sacrificed a lot, joel..”

Joel looks up at you in surprise when you assure him of his goodwill. In a sense, he's grateful you're defending him, but you’ve always been too kind about the past, too forgiving, he doesn't know if he deserves it. “Yeah I was working a tonne of overtime.. I was trying to save up for a house, I wanted to take care of you both.. Guess it got out of hand.”

You can't help but feel a sense of nostalgia as you look around the house that you both raised Sarah in for the first five years of her life.. “You did it Joel, you got the house and.. Now you're starting up your own business. You've come a long way.”

“Sometimes I wonder if it was all worth it, I missed out on a lot of Sarah's younger years in the process… it's not time that I can get back.. and I know it was my own doing.”

“That was your sacrifice.. And it was so she could have a good childhood. That in itself makes you an incredible father. She knows what you did for us, for her, and she loves you.”

Joel knew that much was true, he concedes this as the truth. He couldn't deny that he had an incredible relationship with his daughter. There were many things joel regretted in his life and from the past, but he couldn't recall a single moment of regret when it came to how he chose to raise Sarah.

“I think we're well overdue for some more wine, wouldn't you say?” You grin, nodding toward the bottle, and with a small smirk, Joel complies, filling your glass half full and his own the same.

“That may be true,” he replies playfully. “But I'm still gonna need you to take it easy. I'm not prepared for what you'll be like once you're tipsy.”

“I'll be on my best behaviour.” You grin, almost too mischievously.

“I'm not believing that for a single second. I know you.. as soon as the wine hits, you’re gonna lose your inhibitions and start trying to charm me.”

Rolling your eyes is an appropriate response. “As if I need to try to charm you, Joel Miller.”

“See?” He chuckles, “even now, you're flirting with me.”

You are amused by his tone and can't help but be a smartass. “Hey—this is a date.. Isn't it?”

With genuine amusement in his tone, he laughs. “Well, I suppose it is. But you can't deny that if I keep pouring you this wine, you wont end up in my lap within the half hour?”

“Pour me another glass and find out.” You challenge, setting the now empty glass in front of him.

He raises an eyebrow, but pours you a third glass of wine, handing the glass back to you. “Here you go.” He wonders if he'll be right in his prediction.

You hold the glass up and take a sip, eyes closing momentarily as the warmth slides straight down to your stomach. Silently thanking him.

Joel leans back into his chair, after topping up his own glass that wasn't quite empty yet, watching you with a brightness in his eyes. “You know, even though we haven't been an actual couple in half a decade, it's still nice to be having one of these again.. as strange as that sounds.”

With a raised eyebrow and amusement in your tone. “I dont think its strange at all, I think it's wonderful.”

He hums in response, finally digging into the pasta that had been sitting there since he served it steaming hot off the stove, you follow in tow, deciding that your stomach has somehow made room for the deliciously smelling creamy pasta. You can't help but groan in delight as you chew the creamy pasta. “Fucking delicious.” You mutter.

As the two of you decide to eat, Joel notes that you’re out of wine… “I'll get another bottle.” You insist, seeing that he's digging into his dinner.

You know your way around the kitchen you'd spent years living in, reaching upward for the wine cupboard, it seems you can't quite reach, whispering to yourself.. “Goddamnit.” You don’t realise you’ve been staring at the cupboard for a few minutes until you hear him.

“Having some trouble?” You don't have the nerve to turn around at how husky his voice sounds. He decided to take advantage of the fact that he had disarmed you with his voice alone, and slips up behind you, his chest flush against your back. He doesn't bother to help you reach the wine, instead he wraps his arms around your waist.

You can't help but lean backwards into him, closing your eyes as you lean your head backward into his shoulder. Your heart skips at the sensation of him pulled taut against you, it had been too long since he held you like this.

His hand caresses the side of your neck, and he whispers softly into your ear. “How's the wine treating you baby? Seems like your skin is a little warm..” He teased boldly.

“Who said it's got anything to do with the wine? My handsome ex husband is holding me— I think that calls for some mandatory blushing, does it not?”

Joel chuckles and squeezes you tighter around your hips, his body pressing against yours firmly, your hips pressed against the bench. “Ex-husband… is that what I am to you now?” He asked, smirking.

You can't help but laugh breathlessly. “Legally, yes.”

“Legally, maybe,” he replies, his smirk broadening. “But in my eyes.. Who you truly belong to is not a matter of legality..” He leans in and whispers softly into your ear, his lips tickle the skin. “Just a matter of heart..”

You shudder as his warm breath warms your ears. “Joel Miller, the romantic.”

“What can I say, you bring out the best in me.” He replies softly, lips against your neck, his voice carries a seductive undertone. One hand slides up your arms and he grabs you to spin you around, his eyes boring into you as your back is pushed against the counter, you’re forced to meet his gaze as his hand grips the nape of your neck. “Do you want to know what I really think about you?”

His sudden manoeuvre has her shocked into near silence. “What do you think of me Joel?”

He hesitates, trying to find the right words. He can't mess this up, not with your large and vulnerable eyes watching him. “You're beautiful,” he praised softly. “You have the most kind-hearted soul I've ever known.. You're a wonderful mother… and you’ll be the only one I’ll ever truly want..”

Maybe the wine helped him be bold enough to be truthful in this moment, or oversharing. He felt like this might be the only chance he might have.

“Why did it take half a bottle of wine for you to tell me all this?” You mumble.

Joel goes quiet. He can't help but stare down at you, the smirk on his lips fades, you'd always been able to see through him. “I was scared,” a note of humility in his voice. “Scared that once you knew, you wouldn't want to look at me again. I always thought you were out of my league, ya know? I didn't deserve someone like you…still don't know if I do.”

His self depreciation was never something you would come to accept. “Don't talk like that, Jesus Joel. You really have no idea how much I love you, do you?”

“How can you still love me?” He asks, although he's almost afraid of the answer you'll give. “I hurt you, I let myself drift so far from what mattered..”

“Joel… you've done nothing that isn't worth forgiving,” you promise softly.

Joel can't help himself as he pulls you against him, chest to chest. He holds you tightly, as if it might be the last time…”But that's the problem,” he said softly. “Not that what I did isn’t forgivable…but that it didn't need to happen in the first place. It hurts me just thinking about how much I lost sight of things, but it can't have been worse than how much I must've hurt you…”

Your hands have a mind of their own as they cup his cheeks, making him look down at you. “Now you listen to me, okay? I love you. Things were not easy for us back then.. We were young parents and struggling to pay the bills, parenthood hit us fucking hard and we didnt make it..” You sigh, your eyes full of love and vulnerability. “Hell—I don't even remember half of it… but were here now, we have a chance to make things better than they were, we can start new.”

He nods as he rests his forehead against your own, a small smile on his lips. You easily wipe away any insecurity and self guilt he held for their split. You were right, of course. This wasn't the time to dwell on the past, on what could've been, not when the two of you were here… now, with a brand new start. “Let's try again, huh?” He asks in a low whisper.

Pulling your lip between your teeth, you nod against his own warm skin. “Let's try again…”

His hands are warm as they caress your cheeks, he pulls you into him for a kiss, lips meeting and you're flooded with emotion, all the doubt and uncertainty you both held washed away as soon as your lips connected. The bittersweet aftertaste of wine lingers on your warm lips. He struggled to pull away from you, but he looked down at your loved filled eyes, gazing softly up at him. “God, I've missed that.” He whispers softly.

He brushes a handful of strands of loose hair out of your face, looking down at you, you note his pupils are dilated. “You still take my breath away,” he laughs softly, caressing your cheek.

You flush at his praise. “Trying to get in my good books already?”

He was definitely trying. “You can't fault me for trying, I could really use some brownie points right now, ya know?”

Laughing at his sense of humour, you roll your eyes. “You're a crooked man Joel, and I love it.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult or a compliment?” An amused tone in his voice, his body pressing against your own. He leans down to kiss you again softly, his hands caressing your waist and letting his fingers trail up the side of your torso.

“Of course it's a compliment—other men have their heads on straight and they are just…weird. You're a little crooked, a little weird, and I like that..”

The way you accept his flaws leaves him more in awe of you, he can't complain at how endearing you find his oddities. “And so youre saying it's a good thing that I'm a little unhinged at times?” He chuckles, reaching up under your chin to trace small shapes on the soft skin.

You have a little mischief twinkling in your eyes.. “Oh you know—when you get all angry and protective. Definitely crooked, but so sexy.”

“You find it hot when I get territorial over you?” He couldn't help but laugh at her admission.

The wine flows through you, giving you a sense of boldness. You run a hand down his chest, manicured fingers tickling him through the brown cotton shirt. “Do you remember that time I was on a date with that jackass, I was drunk outta my mind—”

He scowls at the memory of that night, you, his ex-wife on a date with some chump named James. The man had tried to take you home, even though you were inebriated. “Yeah, I do,” he replied with a possessive tone to his voice. “You were wasted, couldn't even walk straight.. But I knew what that animal was thinking, I could see the way he looked at you.”

“All I could remember was how infuriated you were, the sexiest thing I'd ever seen..” Your eyes draw him in, batting your lashes at him.

Joel smirks, a light blush spreading from his neck up his cheeks, to his ears from your comment. “You thought it was sexy huh? I thought I'd lost my shit and went a little overboard..”

You can only shrug, unbothered by his reaction at that time. “Oh—maybe you did, I mean you did beat him to a pulp in that forsaken carpark, didn’t you baby? All for me.”

“That prick needed his ass kicked either way,” he growls. “There was no way I was letting him have you.. Drunk or not, that man crossed a line, and I’d do it all over again.”

Your heart doubles in size, and you can feel your knees weakening. “You'd do it all over again?”

He doesn't hesitate. “I'd do it a thousand times over.. At that moment.. in my mind, you were still my girl, being hit on by some creep. And I wasn't going to let him take you away from me.” He pauses, wondering if his explanation sounded too crazy. “You still meant alot to me.. Even after we split.. You always have.”

You run a finger down his cheek, the coarse hairs of his beard make a sound that sends a tingle down your spine. “What I wouldn't do to see that side of you again.”

Joel tilts his head slightly and takes a moment to ponder your comment. He was surprised to hear you admit how much you loved this dominant and possessive side of him. “That side of me.. You want to see it again, cause I can make it happen, baby girl. Just say the words.”

You couldn't help the way you trembled, sure that the only thing keeping you up right was Joel's hips pressing against your own, back digging into the bench. “Please,” you beg pathetically. His hand reaches up to your neck, holding you by the neck, forcing you to look up at him. He applies a small amount of pressure that has you whimpering.

The way you melt under his possessive gesture was enough for him to feel confident that this side of him was still within reach and you loved it. He leans closer to you and kisses you again, this time more forcefully. He lets his fingers dig into your soft flesh, squeezing firmly while knowing it's not causing you pain or discomfort.

Hearing your squeaking moans, and the way your body seems to relax into him as he takes control of you.. He takes this as motivation to move his lips against yours with a different kind of hunger. Feeding into the darker side of himself, trying to recapture that long-lost side of him that he's lost after letting you walk out of his life.

But he wouldn't let you go, no, not this time. He had his fingers digging into your flesh and his lips moving against yours with so much force, he shoves his tongue into your mouth..

His free hand wanders along your body, feeling the warmth of the wine and from the heat of his touch, your body reacting exactly how it used to, as if no time has passed at all. His hand gropes your breast roughly, squeezing and slipping past the two layers of fabric. He pulls away from your lips, eyes darkening. “Wearing a lace bra just for me, huh baby? Bet you've got a matching set on, don't you?” He growls.

“Y–Yes..” A feeble moan emits from your lips, smothered in his spit. The thought drives him wild, and slides down the straps to your dress and takes in the lavender lace bra you brought specially for tonight. “Fuck, you’re a naughty girl aren’t you?”

When you don't respond, he grabs at your breasts roughly, grasping the soft flesh between his calloused fingers, pinching your nipples harshly, making you cry out in pleasure, it was a sensitive spot for you, one that Joel remembered well.

He leans down, greedily sucking all the sweat off your warm skin, licking and nipping, his teeth biting down into the flesh of your neck, leaving an immediate mark, claiming his stake on you. You were his..

His lips messily kissed your breasts, tongue finally meeting the nipple where he suckled harshly, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. “Do you remember when you were pregnant? Let me drink your milk straight from the source, didn’t you baby? Fuck.. what I wouldn’t give to do that again,” he whimpers against your skin.

Your heart races, running your fingers through his dark hair. He spends his time at your breasts, alternating pleasuring the two, making sure they’re both equally as tended to as the other. “Tits are so fucking perfect baby.” He praises.

His greedy hands trail down your body, the fabric of your dress bunching at his fingers, as he slides them down your legs, he’s on his knees.. face to face with the matching lavender lace panty that covers your pussy. An involuntary moan leaves his lips, he can’t tear his eyes away at the large sopping wet patch in the middle of your panties. “Fucking hell, I can smell your need, you know that?”

Your legs tremble at his sudden growl, he could smell her arousal? The thought embarrassed her. The thought didn’t stay long in her head, he presses his face into your cunt with the panties still on, moaning against you. His large nose bumping your swollen clit through the material, and you let out a whine and curl your fingers through his hair. “Please Joel.. I need more.”

He ignores your pleas for more, licking and sucking you through your panties, he can taste you through them, he’s like an animal being teased through a cage, and he’s painfully hard, teasing the both of you with his devilish antics.

“Fuck Joel! Please!” You beg a little louder, crying out as she tugs on his hair.

Without another moment passing, his thick fingers tear the lace in half, exposing your mound. You didn’t shave, your pubic hair was trimmed but still bush enough for Joel to dive into. His mouth watered, he had always had a preference for hair down there, he’d seen it in pornography magazines growing up, and he fucking desired it ever since.

Women these days are all about shaving, being bare and having brazilians.

Fuck that. This is what Joel needed.

“Fucking hell baby you’re gonna kill me.” He groaned into your cunt. Diving face first, his arms wrap around your ass and pull you tight, his face buried into your cunt as far as he could go.

You stumble and lift one leg over his shoulder, trying to support yourself a little more. It feels impossible though, the way Joel’s tongue dives into your cunt, lapping at the juices you’re giving him, pushing his tongue as far into your hole as he can reach. His hawkish nose presses into your clit and you feel your legs trembling, like you’re about to topple over.

“Joel..” you warn breathlessly. You’re close, so fucking close.

“Cum for me baby. Fuck.. please.” Suddenly he was the one begging, on his knees lapping at your cunt, whining against you. Feeling him beg against you was all it took for you to come undone.. your legs buckle and you tremble above him, clutching onto his shoulder, as you cry out, your clit tingles with pleasure as Joel slowly rolls his tongue against it, trying to string out your orgasm.

He laps you up, all of you, not letting a single drop go to waste, his eyes are black with desire and his face is glistening with you, smeared all over his face, finally, he rises to his feet. “Turn around baby girl.” He orders, his voice husky from your slick.

You can do nothing but comply, he shoves you against the counter, your hips against the cold wood. You can hear him, his breaths are quick, he’s frantically unbuckling his belt, tying the brown leather around your wrists..

You feel his hard cock against your ass, and your eyes widen, forgetting how big he was, did he get bigger?

With one hand he pushes you down onto the bench so you’re lying, face down. “That’s it angel. You’re so fucking sweet, aren’t you baby?” He praises senselessly, the swollen tip of his cock meets your hole and you squeak out, he stretches you, beyond what you ever remembered. “J-Joel.” You whine and inhale sharply, face still pressed against the cold countertop, arms bound behind your back and his throbbing thick cock pushing inside of you, you’re helpless, completely at his mercy and you fucking love it.

Your cunt can testify the fact, it’s dripping, all over Joel, he pushes himself into the hilt of you and groans loudly, a loud grunt leaving his lips. One hand holds you flat against the counter, the other holds your bound arms at his chest.

He slowly starts to thrust, legs quaking with desire, he knows he won’t last long, fuck, he’s never had a pussy so perfect, not after you, all he knows is the warmth of you, your perfectly tight hole, sucking him in deeper.

Your moans are loud, but muffled by your cheeks squished against the counter, you can almost feel him in your ribs, with every thrust it feels like you’re running out of oxygen. Strangled gasps leave your lips as your pussy clenches around him, threatening to spill over a second time..

Joel can feel it, the way you grip him, he knows he won’t last, he grunts as he presses himself flush against you, your arms behind your back hinder his need to be closer to you, but this way.. he wraps his hand around your neck, bringing you upright, flush to his chest.

“Fuck, that’s it baby.” He growls, his cock pummels into you mercilessly, and now you’re free to cry out as loud as you can.

“Joel.. Joel.. I’m.. I..” you stutter, in between moans, your cunt clenching around him. You tense up as you orgasm a second time, creaming all over his throbbing cock.

He brings you totally upright, his hand tightening around your throat. “Fuck baby.. I’m gonna cum.. fill this perfect pussy up.” He whimpered into your ear, biting down on your neck.

You can feel him tensing, seconds later.. heavy and warm ropes of his cum spurt so far into your womb you whimper, knowing that he’s sure to get you knocked up.. again. He lets out the most obnoxious grunting as he pants heavily into your ears.

“Joel.. fuck I’m.. not on birth control.” You whimper. He keeps his cock inside of you, until he softens and pulls out of you, untying the belt that restrained your hands, as your hands fall limply by your sides, he kisses your shoulders, knowing there’s ought to be an ache.

“Good. Maybe we can have a do over after all, hm?” He murmurs softly, kissing the back of your neck. His hands find their way down to your stomach, caressing it softly. “Wouldn’t hurt to have just one more.. would it?”

After all, Joel Miller was a possessive man, a greedy man. You would bare as many children as he wished, because you weren’t ever going anywhere again. You were his.

“Might as well marry me again while you’re at it.” You tease breathlessly.

He hums against your skin, his forehead resting on the back of your shoulder. “Already thinkin’ bout it baby.”

Because Joel Miller wouldn’t let you get away, not this time.

#young Joel miller #hbo Joel miller #Joel miller smut #Pedro pascal #Joel miller x female reader #joel miller fic #Joel miller x you #Joel miller #the last of us

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guiltyasdave · 9 months ago

Text

sun is going down

chapter 1 • series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: An injured Joel and Ellie stumble into your home in the middle of the night. Against your better judgement, you decide to help them.

word count: ~2.2k

tags/warnings: post outbreak, slow burn, found family, age gap (sorry not sorry), able-bodied reader, angst, reader has a sad sad backstory and ptsd, hurt/comfort, fluff, eventual smut, vague description of an injury, blood, guns, i think that’s it?

a/n: i’m ridiculously nervous about sharing this story, it has been on my mind for over a year and i’ve been too intimidated to start working on it for the longest time. i really hope that someone likes it haha

follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for fic updates and find my full masterlist here :)

dividers as always by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍

The alarm goes off in the middle of the night. You shoot up, your body on high alert, your heart beating rapidly, before your mind is even fully awake.

Probably just a false one, you try telling yourself as you make your way to the office. You’ve never had a false alarm, but– one can hope, right?

The place is plunged into darkness, no windows for any moonlight to seep through. You turn on the camera feed, squinting at the grainy screen. There’s movement in the living room, two people, from what you can make out. Not infected, judging from the way they’re moving, but one of them seems to be injured. Please don’t be raiders. There isn’t much to loot in the house, but the anxiety is already settling in your chest, threatening to crawl up your throat.

You turn on the sound and a panicked girl’s voice rings through the room as if you were standing right next to her.

“Fuck, Joel, wake up. Joel, please–”

It’s eerily similar to words that you’ve said once, the memory still fresh, even now. You wonder if your voice was as thick with tears then as that girl’s is right now.

Not again. Not in this house, not while you’re watching, unable to do anything. Not again.

You still hear it, the echo in your mind clear as ever. Keep them safe. Promise me. The promise you failed to keep.

Unblinking, you stare at the screen, your mind running a mile a minute. This could be a trap. They could have been watching, could have somehow figured you out. Or, the tiny voice in the back of your head insists, or they really need help.

The girl is pleading for the man to hold on, to not fall asleep. The desperation in her tone is tearing at you, urging you into action. Fuck it, you have to do something.

You grab your gun from the wall and slowly make your way up the stairs, ignoring the anxious trembling in your hands. Maybe this is how you die.

Leaning your back against the wall, you take a deep breath, a fruitless attempt to calm yourself, and switch on the lamp outside. You can’t hear them anymore, but knowing that the living room is now bathed in light, you’re certain that they’re on high alert now. Shit shit shit. You steel yourself, undo the complicated lock and push the heavy door open.

Please don’t let it be a trap.

They’re both staring at you, a young girl standing in front of a man, lying on the ground, taking panting breaths. She’s pointing a gun straight at you, as if she’s trying to shield his larger body with hers. The weapon looks much too big in her hands.

The memory of a similar image tugs at the back of your mind, but you shove it away. Stay in the present, stay right here.

You clear your throat, raising your hands slightly. You don’t remember the last time you spoke to another living person. Your voice cracks.

“I– I don’t mean you any harm. I live here, I saw you on– on the cameras.”

The girl furrows her brow, her eyes flitting across the room.

“They’re hidden, you won’t– Listen, I just want to help, I promise.”

The sound of your voice wavers, almost unfamiliar to your own ears. The girl lowers her gun a fraction, but the distrust is written all over her face. You can’t blame her. You clear your throat again, willing your hands to stop shaking.

“Your dad, is he– has he been bitten?” Please say no, please say no, please say no.

She shakes her head quickly. An expression that you can’t place flies over her features. Thank god.

“He’s not my– no. He got– he got stabbed.”

You can tell that she tries to sound strong, brave, but you recognize the panic in her eyes. You see it often enough when you look into the mirror.

You take another steadying breath. You can do this.

“Okay. I can help with that, if– if you want. I have medicine, bandages…”

Hope flashes over her face, mixed with the obvious conflict of not trusting you.

“You can come downstairs, it’s safer there. I– I should turn the lights back off.”

You’re painfully aware of how bright the house must shine through the darkness, from how far away it’s probably visible right now. Your nerves are fluttering anxiously.

“I don’t mean to hurt you, I swear. Just– let me help you.”

She swallows, hard, and fixes you with a stare.

“It’s just you down there?”

You nod in silent confirmation, not trusting your voice on this. It’s the first time you’ve ever had to admit it to anyone but yourself.

The girl sighs, her head turning between you and the man behind her a few times, surely seeking guidance from him, but his eyes are halfway shut, his lips trembling. Your gaze falls on the dark red stain on his shirt.

Don’t look, don’t think- Just focus on this, right now, right here.

You tell her your name, promise again that it’s safe. Finally, she nods timidly.

“Okay.”

“Okay.” You nod back at her, give her a small smile that she doesn’t return. “I’ll come closer now, we’ll carry him, alright?”

The girl looks at the man again. Her body tenses when you near them, but together you manage to get him back on his feet and half walk, half carry him. You push the door open wider and heave him down the stairs.

In the back of your mind, you take note of the sound of multiple feet walking down the steps, and how long it’s been since… No. Stay in the present.

You prop him up on the couch, where the girl keeps hovering by his side while you rush up again to close and lock the door and turn off the lights. Next, you throw open the bathroom cabinet, gathering all the material that you might need.

You return and crouch down beside him, lying your things out on the table, and take a closer look, your fingers halting over him. He’s watching you through lidded eyes, a sheen of sweat on his pale face.

“What’s his name?” you ask, looking up at the girl.

“Joel,” she answers reluctantly. “I’m Ellie.”

“Hi, Ellie.” You hope your smile looks sincere, not betraying how nervous you are right now. How shaky the sight of his blood-soaked shirt makes you feel.

“Okay, Joel?” you address him directly. He only manages a tired hum in return. “I’m gonna clean this and try stitching you up. It’s gonna hurt, I have painkillers, if you–”

But he shakes his head, humming again.

“Alright,” you sigh, and get to work.

You explain what you’re doing with every step, to calm both their and your own nerves. You know how to do this, you’ve trained for this. The wound doesn’t look too deep and you pray that there’s no organ damage involved, because you don’t have the means to treat that properly, but it doesn’t look like it. There seems to be an infection spreading though, so you gather some antibiotics as well, hoping that they’ll still work the way they’re supposed to. Joel inhales sharply a few times, but seems to be out of it for most of the time, which you’re grateful for.

“How did this happen?” you ask, looking up at Ellie who’s still standing beside you, watching intently over what you’re doing.

“Raiders,” she mutters. “It was a broken baseball bat, I think.”

“Jesus,” you sigh. You wonder how they got out, your thoughts circling back to the gun in her hands, and you suppress a shudder. “Are you injured too?” you ask, deciding not to press her about the attack.

“No,” comes her quiet answer. You don’t catch the way she averts her eyes.

“Alright,” mumble eventually and straighten up. You’ve cleaned and bandaged the wound to the best of your ability and now you just have to hope that it will be enough.

“Do you want something to eat?” you ask the girl, who has taken to sit beside the couch on the ground, now that you’ve moved away from it. Her face lights up at the question and she nods eagerly.

You get two bowls of the soup that you’ve had for dinner for the both of you and she has already had a few spoonfuls before she eyes you warily.

“It’s not poisoned or something, is it?”

You huff a laugh and keep eating yours, holding her gaze with raised eyebrows. “Does it look like it?”

“Um, no…” she trails off, swallowing another spoonful and sighing at the taste. You wonder how long it’s been since they ate something. “You could have poisoned only mine though.”

“Well I didn’t,” you grin. It feels foreign, talking to another person, another child, but a warmth is slowly spreading through you that has nothing to do with the soup.

She wakes Joel and gets him to swallow a little soup as well as some water before he collapses back on the couch, his eyes closed and his breath evening out.

“Why do you… have all this?” she asks eventually, setting her bowl down on the table and looking around the room, the wood-covered walls and the multiple doors.

“My dad built it,” you reply, forcing your voice to stay neutral. “B–before.”

She hums in acknowledgement, her eyes still full of wonder.

“You’re welcome to stay,” you hear yourself say, “until he gets better, I mean.”

You don’t know if you’re being reckless, if this will be the thing that finally gets you killed, but it seems too elaborate to be a trap. And maybe, just maybe you like the idea of not being alone down here, even just for a short while, a little too much. She thanks you, her expression just as weary as you feel.

You offer that she can wash up if she wants, use the shower, that you could give her some clothes of yours. You’re still not sure if you’re doing the right thing, or if you’re just being incredibly stupid, but the sight of her worn down shirt and the way her hair is matted down with dirt makes your heart swell with the wish to care for her.

Her eyes flicker nervously between Joel and the bathroom door a few times, but eventually she agrees. While the shower runs, you settle down on the armchair across from the couch, sinking into the cushions, your knees pulled up to your chin, your eyes resting on the sleeping man. He’s huge, taking up the whole length of it, his feet dangling over the armrest, overwhelming even in his unconscious state.

You really hope that they’re good people. He could overpower you easily, there’s no doubt of that. You might not be a terrible fighter, but you don’t think that you’d be a match for him.

Your gaze lingers on his face, the strong shape of his nose, the pout of his lower lip, his brow furrowed even in his sleep. His fingers are twitching, one wrist adorned with a broken watch.

Ellie exits the bathroom again, clad in your old clothes, her damp hair dripping into the neckline of the t-shirt, like a younger version of you. It makes your heart ache.

Now that the adrenaline is rushing from your body, you realize how weird all this really is. You haven’t spoken to anybody in years and now there’s two people here, in your space. Maybe you’ve finally lost it for good.

You show her to the biggest of the four bedrooms, the only one that no one has ever slept in. It’s easier, opening this door, than the two other ones that you keep shut. You debate moving Joel from the couch to the bed, Ellie mumbling about his back, but ultimately you decide against it.

“Okay,” you hesitate, leaning against the doorframe. “I’m in the room right next to you, if you need anything… Just– please don’t murder me in my sleep, okay?”

She mirrors your wry smile. “I won’t if you won’t.”

You nod and leave the room, praying that you’re making the right call here. You’re doing something good, right? And no one would plan an ambush like this. Would they?

You heave a sigh and retreat to your own bedroom, your gun clutched tightly in your grasp. You doubt that it would save you, not against that man who’s currently softly snoring on your couch. Still, it makes you feel a little better. You turn the lock on your door too, just in case.

When you sink back under the covers, eyes still wide open and staring into the darkness, a small smile creeps onto your lips despite your worries.

It’s not the way it was, it will never be that way again. But not being the only soul down here fills you with the ghost of a warmth that you had thought you’d never feel again.

thank you for reading 🤍 if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending an ask, it truly makes my day every single time!

#janas fics #fic: safe and sound #joel miller #ellie williams #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedrostories

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pjohoo-reclists · 7 months ago

Note

hi! do you have any percico fic recommendations? i’m sure you do but i couldn’t find them, lol

Actually I dont have any posted yet!! Here you go. Thanks for the request. Enjoy!!

Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo Fic Recs

A list of fics featuring the romantic relationship between Percy Jackson and Nico di Angelo.

Dog Sled Racing by robindrake93

T | 600 words | Complete

Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo

Puppies, Fluff, Short One Shot

Percy and Nico try to train Mrs. O'Leary's puppies.

To Give Yourself To Someone by cabin13 (friendlypeach)

T | 1.0k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo, Nico di Angelo & Grover Underwood, Percy Jackson & Grover Underwood

Wedding Fluff, Speeches, Married Couple

Percy laughs, watching one of his closest friends stand up, almost bringing the tablecloth with him. “You’re being ridiculous!” Nico yells as Grover runs to the centre of the room. Eyes alight, slightly shadowed by black curls, a smile pushing insistently at his lips even as he tries to tamp it down – Nico is glowing with happiness. They’ve come a long way. And there's longer to go, still. Percy grabs his husband’s hand, warmth blooming in his chest.

a well-known fact about feelings by nlieco (madin456)

G | 1.3k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo

Angst with a Happy Ending, Internalized Homophobia

The thing about being a boy and liking another boy is: it’s not supposed to happen.

A Happy Ending by HK44

G | 1.5k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo

Fluff, Happy Ending, Domesticity

People make jokes that Percy would never handle domesticity. That he attracts danger like Hazel attracts cursed metals. He laughs along because they’re not wrong.

Something Bitter by sulucandles

G | 1.9k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo

Canon Compliant, One sided, Coming Out

Percy's not as oblivious as everyone thinks he is. Or an examination into Nico and Percy's relationship through PJO and HoO

It's a Seal! by Takara_Phoenix

G | 1.9k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo

AU - No gods, Merman Percy, Selkie Percy

Nico loves the aquarium, especially the turles and one marine biologist in particular.

My College Boyfriend by Takara_Phoenix

T | 3.0k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo

Good boyfriend Percy Jackson, Fluff, Age Difference

Nico is seventeen and the best damn thing that has ever happened to him is his five years older boyfriend, Percy Jackson. Now if only Nico's friends would believe him that gloomy, anti-social Nico could land a gorgeous college student... Something always came up when Nico wanted to introduce them and at this point, Percy is known as Nico's imaginary boyfriend. Good thing Percy is awesome and knows how to change that though.

Pass the Eggs by DancingInTheSliverGlow

G | 3.1k | Complete

Percy Jackson & Nico di Angelo, Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo

Canon Compliant, Protective Percy Jackson, Gay disaster Nico di Angelo

“Yes.” Percy says. “You don’t have to befriend everyone in Camp Half Blood. I just want you to have somewhere you feel safe and welcome. Okay?” A lump forms in his throat, and Nico looks away. It’s been a long time since anyone has looked out for him, the way Percy is doing now. He nods. “Great!” Percy grins, ear to ear, and Nico thinks that it’s a bit like looking in the sun. Beautiful in small quantities, but overwhelming and blinding in too much. Percy speeds off to his room to get changed and to get his skateboards, and Nico leans back against the wall in the hallway, head in his hands. He’s so, so far in over his head. Aka. Post BotL Nico visits Percy. They talk about how Nico's powers are perceived, and about how camp half blood treats children of the big three.

Perspective by chiiyo86

T | 6.0k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo, Percy Jackson & Sally Jackson

AU - Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Outsider POV

Sally knows her son, knows that something isn't right. She just isn't sure what he could be hiding from her.

A Bat in the Hand by Takara_Phoenix

G | 8.9k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo

Fluff, AU - Supernatural Elements, Vet Percy

Percy is a hard-working student, on his way to become a vet, because he loves animals. And then a cute, little bat crash-lands on his balcony. Of course he has to take the little guy in and nurse him back to health. Nico is a dangerous and powerful vampire lord. And then he has a run-in with vampire hunters and, in his bat-form, loses conscience and crashes on a balcony.

Some of Them by betsib

M | 11k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo

Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Abuse

Percy haven't seen Nico di Angelo in five years, then he suddenly turns up in Percy's living room in the middle of the night, injured and asking for help. At first Percy thinks it's a fight gone wrong, but he soon realizes the truth is far worse than that.

you're never lost at sea by kat777

M | 20k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo

Angst with a Happy Ending, Self-Acceptance, Suicidal Thoughts

The second time he tries to kill himself, Percy doesn’t talk his ear off, just gives him an ultimatum—he can either come live with Percy and Annabeth in their apartment in New Rome, or Percy will tell Hazel what he’s done. Nico pictures the devastated look on her face, the tears welling up in her eyes, her lips trembling and pressed in a thin line. Percy says he has a choice, and it makes Nico laugh for the first time since the battle at the House of Hades, because it’s no choice at all. OR, Nico attempts suicide, Percy saves him, and years pass before either of them are even remotely all right.

Kiss a Boy in Tokyo Town by antistar_e (kaikamahine)

T | 57k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo, Percy Jackson/Annabeth Chase

Novella, Infidelity

You know what they say, Percy Jackson. If you can't stand the heat, get out of hell.

Enriched By Envy by HK44

M | 63k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo

Magic, Protectiveness, Dark Percy Jackson

Waking up at the bottom of the ocean was not on Nico's bucket list. Trying to figure out why Percy was suddenly so clingy and possessive of him wasn't on there either.

The Case of the Dying Flower by chiiyo86

E | 72k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo

Murder Mystery, Slow burn, Soul Bond

It's not that Nico has been avoiding Percy for the past two years, of course not. It's just that he doesn't like to be reminded of the stupid crush he had on him when he was younger. So when Percy seeks him out with the message that the goddess Aphrodite wants to see both of them, Nico is less than enthusiastic. Before he knows it, he finds himself forcibly bonded to Percy and they're sent on a strange quest: solving a murder that happened thousands of years ago and whose primary suspects are gods.

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vodika-vibes · 2 months ago

Note

Can you do a Monnk x reader in the mystic au, the same faced gods one? Monnk would definitely be a sea themed kind of god.

Take as much time as you need with it, I don't mind.

Siren Song

Summary: It was an accident. You didn’t know that the Empire had claimed the waters around your town as theirs. So when you take your small boat out, to check the crab traps, you run afoul of Imperial Troopers.

Pairing: Commander Monnk x F!Reader

Word Count: 2404

Prompt: Mystic AU - Same Faced Gods AU

Warnings: Reader is murdered at the beginning of the fic by drowning, Monnk first meets the reader as a toddler, but no relationship forms until Reader is well into her 20s. In fact, he doesn't interact with her at all between the ages of 2 and 22.

A/N: So this is a little different from the other fics in this AU, but I still like it.

Click HERE to be added to my taglist

Rough hands press you to your knees in front of a man dressed in an impractical white uniform. A strong hand on the back of your head forces your gaze to remain locked on the metal deck of the warship you’ve been dragged on. They’re not being gentle with you. In fact, they seem to be enjoying the pain they’re causing you.

“Admiral,” The speaker is a woman, with a scratchy voice. She sounds like your uncle, in a way. Like she’s smoked most of her life and is now paying the price. “We found this,” A pointed boot slams into your side, and you release a muffled noise of pain, “poaching from the Emperor’s ocean.”

“Brave,” You assume that this is the admiral speaking. There’s something slimy to his voice, and you aren’t able to hide your shudder of terrified revulsion.

And then the woman’s words pierce the fog of terror. Wait. The Emperor’s Ocean? This Ocean doesn’t belong to anyone.

“Tell me, girl,” The Admiral continues, his gloved hand grabbing your chin and jerking your head so that you’re looking at him.

It hurts. The way his fingers dig into your skin, the way he’s jerking your head from one side to the other. It’s like his every action is designed to bring you more pain.

Add that pain to the pain from the rough manacles binding your hands together, and your feet together for that matter, and the rough material being used to gag you—

You’re just not having a good time.

“Hm,” The admiral is an old man, with a ruddy nose and thinning white hair. He’d almost remind you of your grandfather, if it wasn’t for the cruel twist to his lips and the dangerous glimmer in his gaze, “Such a shame. Pretty girls like you should be dressed in fine gowns and put on display.”

His words are startling enough that your panic vanishes, and you stare at him in absolute bewilderment. You’re not the only one. The deck of the ship has fallen silent as men and women stare at the Admiral in various states of disbelief or disgust.

“Admiral?” The woman standing just to your left asks though she doesn’t continue. Perhaps Imperial soldiers have some kind of telepathy?

The old man stares at her for a moment and then coughs. “Yes, exactly right Captain. Poachers cannot be allowed to go free.” He stares at you in silence for a long moment, then smiles, “If you wish to poach from the Emperor so much, perhaps it’d be best if you saw the ocean close up.”

The next five minutes happen very quickly.

A cloth is wrapped around your mouth and nose, the heavy manacles around your wrists are substituted for ropes, and a massive rock is tied to your ankles.

Then, before you can even make a noise of protest, you’re tossed over the side of the ship.

You sink quickly, faster than you expect.

Trying to swim is a waste of energy, the rock is heavier than you are, and the cold water is sapping your strength.

You should be afraid. You don’t want to die.

And yet, even as you sink into the dark depths of the ocean, you’re calm. There’s no panic. No fear. Just peaceful acceptance.

Your twin always did always say that your mild personality would be the end of you.

The salt of the sea burns your eyes, so you close them to try and stop the pain. And your lungs are burning, you can’t quite bring yourself to not hold your breath.

The pressure of the ocean is beginning to get to you. There’s a pain in your sinuses and a sharp pain in your ear. You know what those are symptoms of. You’ve been diving in the ocean since you learned how to swim.

You’re descending too quickly.

Finally, the burning in your lungs becomes too painful, and the last of your oxygen bursts from your nose. It is, perhaps, a mercy that you pass out with the first rush of water to your lungs.

The last thing you’re aware of is something warm and gentle pressing against your cheek.

Much to your genuine astonishment, you wake up.

This astonishment is only made worse when you realize that you’re still underwater, and yet you’re breathing as regularly as you would if you were on land.

So far as you can tell, you’re not wearing a rebreather or an oxygen tank. In fact, aside from the surprisingly light gown you’re wearing, the only thing on your body is some kind of earmuffs.

You press your hands to the earmuffs and note that they seem strapped on your head in some way, and then you note that the ear pain from the ruptured eardrums is gone.

So…a healing device of some sort?

Then you look around at your surroundings.

Honestly, if it wasn’t for the obvious magic, you’d say that this looks like a hospital room. Which means that this light gown you’re wearing is a hospital gown.

You push the blanket off your legs, and immediately pause.

The scars around your ankles don’t surprise you, the rock used to make you sink was heavy, you’d be more surprised if you didn’t have scars.

But that isn’t what gave you pause. No. It’s the scales running up your legs that make you react this way. You fold your legs so you can get a better look, and lightly trail your fingers over the scales.

They’re smooth, like glass, and they’re real. Because you can feel your touch across the scales.

“Is this what happens to people who drown?” You ask the empty room, you’re voice strangely muffled to your own ears, as you hold your arm out and push up the sleeve, revealing identical teal scales decorating your arms. You follow the scales with a finger and notice that they go up to your shoulder and across your shoulder blades. You wouldn’t be surprised if they continue down your spine.

Your head snaps up when the door on the other side of the room slides open and a man steps in.

He looks surprised to see you awake, though it pales in comparison to your surprise. He’s tall, with dark skin, and is covered in Kraken tattoos. Or, wait, that’s not right.

It looks like he has one Kraken tattoo, that covers the majority of his body.

Like you, he has scales on his arms and legs, though his appear to be gold in color, rather than your teal.

He smiles at you, warm and welcoming, and you get the strangest feeling that you know him. “You’re awake.” His voice is pleasantly deep, “You scared me, my pretty anemone.”

“Sorry.” You reply automatically, and then you frown. Why are you apologizing, you didn’t do anything wrong.

“It’s alright, it’s not actually your fault after all.” He crosses the room and lightly sits on the edge of the bed, his dark eyes sliding across the teal scales, before lightly tapping the earmuffs, “Does this seem to be helping?”

“There’s no more pain,” You confirm, “Well, not as much pain. My face and teeth still ache.”

He looks surprised for a moment, and then his face clears, “Right, sinuses. Hold on.” He takes your face between his hands and gently, so gently, trails his finger under your left eye, and then your right.

There’s a slight burning sensation, like after you sneezed too many times in a row, but when the uncomfortable feeling fades the pain is gone.

“There, how’s that?”

You blink at him in surprise, the feeling of familiarity too strong to ignore, “Have we…met before?” You ask, slowly as you scan his face.

A bright grin crosses his face, “We have.” His thumb glides across your lower lip, “You were so young when you woke me up, just a little girl. Too young, for the duty laid on your shoulders.”

You shake your head, “I don’t remember.”

He laughs softly, “You wouldn’t stay away. You kept sneaking out of the house and jumping into the ocean, and you could barely swim. For your safety, I locked the memories away. Until you were old enough for the duty you agreed to.”

Slowly, he leans in and presses his forehead against yours, “My name,” He speaks slowly, as if casting a spell, “is Monnk.”

There’s a spark, and quickly, like a burst dam, memories flood your brain.

You’re two years old, and Mama left you on the beach. She told you to stay put, to be a good girl, and wait for her to come back while she takes care of your brother. But there’s a pretty shell only a little bit away, and Mama won’t be too angry if you go a little bit away, right?

Only as soon as you pick up the pretty shell, there’s another even prettier shell. And then another. And another.

And before you know it, you have lots of shells piled around you. And you’ve found yourself in a weird stone room. But there are shelves and Mama says that we have to pick up our toys.

So, slowly, you set each shell on a stone shelf, carefully making sure each shell is carefully arranged to look the prettiest. It’s important.

You don’t know why it’s important, but you know that it is.

And then he appears. Tall and strong, and you immediately run over to him and silently demand that he pick you up.

Monnk, the god of the Seas, laughs as he scoops you into his arms, “You’re quite little aren’t you, my adorable little priestess?”

You giggle as you hug him.

“Too little, perhaps, to be a proper priestess.” Monnk murmurs, “Time for you to return home, my little one.”

There’s a flash of light, and you’re back on the beach, with a pretty shell necklace draped around your neck.

And then you remember a second memory.

You’re two and a half now, and you’re determined to get to the ocean. It’s where you’re supposed to be.

You make a break for it every chance you get, but tonight, you get away. You make it to the big rocks that Papa says you’re too little to climb, and you immediately jump into the water.

You’re not afraid, Monnk will protect you.

You don’t even hit the water, as strong arms catch you and then set you back on the sand. Monnk kneels in front of you, a wry smile on his face.

“You are as stubborn as a crab, my little one.”

You scramble to your feet and reach out for him to hold you, but he doesn’t waver, his hand gentle on the top of your head, “You have to stop doing this, it’s not safe.” Your lower lip wobbles when he won’t hug you, and Monnk sighs, “Don’t hate me too much for this, little one. I’ll see you when you’re older. I promise.”

And then he touches your forehead, and everything goes blank.

Mama finds you sleeping on the sand the next morning, though you have no memory of how you got there.

You snap out of your memories, and shoot Monnk a pained look, “You went away.”

“I took the memories, so you wouldn’t get hurt, but I was never far.” Monnk replies, “You were going to get yourself killed, my little priestess. My job is to protect you, even from yourself if I have to.”

“It seems unnecessary,” You huff as you press your hands over his.

“You jumped off a boulder. When you were two. And couldn’t swim. It was so necessary you don’t even know.” Monnk counters, and then he shrugs, “I wasn’t watching you all of the time, I did make sure that your family would never go hungry, though. If I had been paying more attention, you wouldn’t have died.”

“...I died?”

“Uh…yeah. Sorry.” He does look apologetic, “You drowned, and I had to take measures to bring you back. Congrats on becoming a Siren!”

“Are you allowed to do that?”

“I,” Monnk sniffs, “am the, a, god of the sea. I’m well within my rights to bring you back. As a siren, or a mermaid. But I decided that you would probably be more comfortable with legs than a tail.”

“You’re not wrong,” You mutter.

“Great!” Monnk pulls his hands from your face and claps them together, “Would you like to see the kingdom I prepared for you?”

“...I beg your fucking pardon?”

He beams, unrepentant, “Your kingdom. For the Eldest Priestess of the Sea god.” Monnk pauses, “Well, only priestess. I’m a bit territorial and don’t want any more Priests or Priestesses.”

“What kingdom?”

Monnk takes your hand and pulls you off the bed, “My beloved little one, I’ve had twenty years to waste. So of course I made a merkingdom for you. I can’t wait to introduce you to Kit. He’s hilarious, you’ll love him.”

“Oh…okay then.” You allow him to lead you out of the hospital, and you find yourself overlooking a stunning city decorated with coral and shells. “You made all of this?”

“Yup. It was a long 20 years.” Monnk leans against a low wall next to you, “See that white building over there? That’s where you, we, live. It’s the Priestess’ Temple.” He pauses, and then he grins, “Also, the people who murdered you? They’re super dead.”

“You killed them?”

There’s a glimmer of something dangerous in his gaze, “You are mine. My priestess. And they hurt you.” The dangerous look fades as quickly as it appeared, “Anyway, my brothers are planning on marching to war as soon as some of the other Commanders find Priestesses. This Empire has wronged a lot of people like you.”

“That’s a lot for someone who used to make a living as a fisherperson,” You mutter.

Monnk kisses your temple and then trails his lips down the side of your face to catch your lips with his, and he seems to become more as your lips touch his, “You won’t be alone,” He promises, “I’ll be right there with you the whole time.”

Your hand rests on his bare chest, and you absently trace his tattoo, “Well, then I have nothing to worry about, do I?”

He grins at you, and offers you his hand, “You want a tour, ad’ika?”

You place your hand in his, “I’d love one.”

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#star wars #tcw #star wars au #commander monnk x reader #monnk x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks #mystic au

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bachissidehoe · 1 year ago

Text

it's only just begun - isagi y.

chapter 1 of 7 of the blue lock band series. chapter 2. chapter 3. chapter 4. chapter 5. chapter 6. chapter 7.

synopsis: y/n was the number one fan of the underground alternative rock band known as "Blue Lock", who after earning a well-deserved following through a viral single, left her wondering if they'd even remember her if they saw her- if he'd remember her. and why would he? y/n's no longer the only Blue Lock fan to have an unrequited crush on their lead singer.

warnings: smut; fingering; penetration; overstimulation; degradation; unprotected sex; dominant isagi; fem reader; minors DNI

disclaimer: all songs referenced are credited to THE DEEP END

note: my first fic on tumblr! pls show some love and i'll be posting more content here from now on :)

w.c. 4.3k

And just like that, Blue Lock was no longer her secret little band that she felt like she had all to herself. It was fun while it lasted, but when their single “It’s Only Just Begun” took off almost a year ago, y/n slowly fizzled out of Isagi Yoichi’s life into the category of just another fan of his.

She can’t help but feel a little upset at times, she really enjoyed talking to Blue Lock’s front man nearly every day. It felt like she was part of it. She remembers when they were writing their hit song and Isagi would run some lyrics by her- after all- it only makes sense that Isagi would take his #1 fan’s professional opinion into consideration.

As for the other band members- it’s likely they knew of her. They followed her on Twitter and occasionally replied to some of her comments. But it was nothing like her closeness with the lead singer.

Regardless, she still follows every single one of them on all social media and keeps up with their new releases. She even follows their manager and their stage director. And she’s proud of them, too. They’re a good band, they deserve this. They’ve always deserved to become as famous as they are now. So when their tour dates were released, y/n was the first in the queue, purchasing a single ticket.

And now she stands among the large crowd, the large crowd they deserve, listening to the beautiful sound of Isagi Yoichi’s voice followed by cheers and screams from his thousands of adoring fans. She can’t even bring herself to sing along, not even with the harmonies of the other band members, she doesn’t want to drown out any of his hypnotic, captivating voice. The way his mouth moves against the microphone, his vocal fry when he hits a high note, how he tosses his hair to the side to shake the sweat away, his smiles to the crowd- she wonders if he remembers her.

Alright, fine. Maybe y/n had a crush on Isagi Yoichi: the lead singer of Blue Lock, the man of many talents who not only sings like an angel, but plays guitar, keys, and even the saxophone. Maybe y/n still does have a crush on Isagi Yoichi.

She probably wouldn’t be waiting with a crowd of much younger teenage girls by the backstage exit in hopes she’d get to catch a glimpse of him on the way out of the venue if she didn’t have just a slight crush. She probably wouldn’t be telling herself “I’ll wait all night if I have to” if she didn’t have just a little crush on-

“Excuse me?”

Y/n turns around, catching the eyes of a woman about her age, dressed in the venue’s work uniform. She points to herself, mouthing “me?” to the woman.

The woman nods.

“Yes, what’s up?” She asks, stepping away from the crowd so she can hear her.

“I just have a quick question, do you mind stepping off to the side?” The woman asks politely, professionally. She works here, obviously, so maybe it’s important. Maybe they found something of hers she dropped somewhere.

Y/n shrugs, looking back at the crowd for a moment. She’ll surely lose her spot, maybe even lose her chance to catch the eyes of Isagi Yoichi on his way back to his hotel. But it’s probably dumb anyway. She seems to think seeing him will make him want to talk to her again, maybe even fall in love with her, maybe even-

“Sure.” She says, ditching her childish chances to date the band member of her dreams.

“I’m sorry to pull you away.” The woman says. “I just didn’t want to say anything too loud over there.”

“What do you mean?” Y/n tilts her head to the side.

“Are you l/n y/n?”

“Yes.”

“Great! I was told to look for the girl dressed in the blue skater skirt and fishnets, but there’s quite a few of those around.” She chuckles.

“What is this about?” Y/n asks again.

“Oh, my bad. One of the band members said he knows you. So he was hoping you’d wanna come back and say hi.”

Y/n’s heart flip flops in her stomach, and she instinctively squeezes her legs together to prevent the inevitable moment where said heart drops out of her body entirely. He remembers her- or at least one of them does. Enough to notice her in the crowd and ask to see her. She could scream. She wants to run back over to those teenage girls and tell them they lost.

“Are you fucking with me?” Y/n asks, a look of shock plastered across her face.

The woman laughs. “No, no. I’m serious.”

“I- I-” She stutters, trying to collect herself. It shouldn’t be like this. They’re just old friends, she doesn’t need to act like a deer caught in the headlights. She takes a breath. “I’d love to say hi.”

Suddenly she’s being snuck around to the back of the venue, through a door, and down a long hallway. She considers the possibility of this being a joke and her being robbed and murdered, but she’d honestly rather that than miss the chance to see Isagi Yoichi.

“You found her!” An ever familiar voice, a gorgeous one. It reaches her ears and penetrates the deepest reserves of her brain that she’s set aside for content relating specifically to him.

And he’s there, sitting on a plush beanbag clutching his guitar, his hair sweaty and stuck to his forehead.

“Isagi.” Y/n breathes out, smiling, her heart racing. It feels like it’s going a mile a minute. It didn’t actually fall out of her chest before, but it very well might now.

And Isagi, he’s beaming. He’s cheerful as ever, likely hyped from the amazing show they just put on.

“Y/n!” His expression changes to a light, playful smirk. “Thought I told you to call me Yoichi.”

“I- um-” She stutters, wishing she’d just be able to play it cool. “You’re right. I guess it’s been a while.” She scratches behind her head, becoming increasingly aware of the many eyes on her standing at the door of their backstage common area.

“I missed you!” He stands up, leaving his guitar strewn on his beanbag chair as he walks over to her, wrapping his comforting arms around her shaky body.

He missed her.

“I- missed you- too.” She manages. “You’re amazing.”

“Oh stop.” He shrugs off her compliment with a kind smile. “Guys, remember y/n? She was one of our OG’s.” He turns toward his band mates, one of his arms lazily strung over y/n’s shoulders. It might actually send her into a psychotic spiral.

“How could I forget the one who helped us decide on “always be the anchor in the back of my mind” for that verse?” The gorgeous lead guitarist flashes her a flirty smile.

And y/n’s attention is suddenly directed toward someone besides the lead singer- the other six people in the room besides a few workers- the members of Blue Lock, the up and coming alternative rock band.

Isagi Yoichi: Lead singer, keys & guitar Chigiri Hyoma: Lead guitar, vocals Nagi Seishiro: Backup guitar, vocals Itoshi Rin: Bass guitar, vocals Itoshi Sae: Drums Mikage Reo: Band manager Bachira Meguru: Stage director

“Chigiri, yeah. I did help out with that one, huh.” She giggles. “Great to see you again, and um, great to meet you.” She directs her attention to the manager and stage director, who were relatively recently brought into the scene. By the time Mikage and Bachira were hired, the band had already gotten fairly famous, and y/n had already basically lost touch with the original five members.

“It’s an absolute pleasure.” Bachira smiles.

“Great to meet you, Blue Lock’s number one OG fan.” Mikage greets her.

Of course, in obsessively keeping up with Blue Lock’s endeavors even after Isagi stopped talking to her personally, she’s well aware of the story behind Bachira and Mikage’s addition. Bachira is Isagi’s high school best friend, and Mikage is Nagi’s high school best friend. When she found out the two of them were brought on, she honestly was a little jealous. But they’re just as gorgeous as the band members, and meeting them in person is sending her body into overdrive. Plus, with Isagi’s arm still over her shoulders, she may as well be dripping down her leg.

“C’mere, we have so much to catch up on.” Isagi leads y/n over to the couch, sitting her next to Nagi as he sits back in the beanbag chair across from her.

“Are you catching up on the bus ride? Because we’re leaving for the hotel.” The unbothered drummer speaks up. “Or you can stay here and fuck her on the couch for all I care.”

Y/n can almost feel her skin melting off at Itoshi Sae’s comment.

“Hah! Well we’re not playing here again, so who cares?” Chigiri chimes in with a laugh, slapping the older Itoshi’s back.

“May as well go back to her place.” Nagi shifts his body slightly, bringing his left thigh flush against y/n’s on the couch. It looks like he’s hardly noticed, but y/n definitely has. It makes her want to press harder into him, maybe even lay on top of him- the irresistible snowy-haired fan favorite. “I’ll come too.”

“No you won’t.” Isagi playfully rolls his eyes. “And nobody’s going back to anyone’s place! I just wanted to say hi and talk to her!”

“Unfortunately, Isagi, Sae’s right and we do have to be heading out.” The manager chimes in, holding his phone to his ear as he talks to who y/n can only assume is the tour bus driver.

“Gonna have to talk to your lukewarm girlfriend another time.” The younger Itoshi slings his bass over his shoulders.

Itoshi Rin was definitely insulting y/n just now, but she still feels an electric pulse rocket through her body when his emerald eyes meet hers. He could insult her any time. Plus, he called her Isagi’s girlfriend.

“That’s all good, um, I’m glad I got to say hi-”

“No! Sae’s right, just come back to the hotel and hang for a bit.” Isagi suggests. “I feel bad, I haven’t talked to you in forever, I missed ya.”

Y/n feels like she could combust, knowing that everyone else in the room is considering Isagi’s potential ulterior motives. She only wishes that were the case. She could only dream of him wanting her in that way. Even in all their time talking, he never made a move on her. They only met in person a single time and he was nothing besides friendly, so it never made sense for her to be forward with him about her little crush.

“On- on your bus? To- the hotel?” She gulps.

“Unless you have something to do. Don’t worry, none of the fans or paps will see you or anything if that’s what you’re worried about. Reo will handle all that.”

Right. They probably do this all the time with girls. Obviously they’d have a protocol when bringing a girl back to their hotel. Even so, that’s not what she’s worried about at all.

“I don’t have anything to do! I’ll come with you!”

“Y/n, do you have a car here?” Mikage asks, already thinking ahead with making arrangements.

“No, um, I took the train-”

“Great!” He turns around, typing feverishly into his phone.

“When you’re done with her, send her over to me.” Chigiri winks. He was always the shamelessly flirtatious type, frequently jumping into frame when Isagi was facetiming her just to make a quick flirty comment.

“No way dude.” Isagi jokes.

And with that, she finds herself shuffled away and snuck onto the tour bus, snuck off the tour bus, and snuck into Isagi Yoichi’s hotel room.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry, you know, for like stopping talking to you.” Isagi walks around the room, a singular white towel around his shoulders, his hair still wet from the shower he must have taken while waiting for y/n to be gracefully snuck inside.

“Oh, um, I-” Y/n struggles to focus, given that Isagi Yoichi is standing shirtless in a pair of gray sweatpants in her direct line of vision. And his body is fucking incredible. “It’s fine, um, I dunno, you got popular, uh-”

“Yeah I got popular, but it all went right to my head. I cut out so many people and I’m just glad you’re not upset with me. I know I’m touring now and stuff but I felt like seeing you at the concert was a good opportunity to apologize-” He trails off, noticing y/n’s dazed expression as she looks at him.

“T’s all good.” She says, sounding like she’s from another world.

“Uh, you okay?” He chuckles nervously. “You tired? Sorry for bringing you here I know it’s late-”

“No! No I’m not! I want to see you, don’t apologize I understand I just, um, I miss being close with you and all, but you’re famous now! And you deserve it so-”

“I know, it feels pretty good. But you didn’t deserve to just be unadded and unfollowed one day. It wasn’t fair, you were always so good to me and the boys.”

“I- I was sad for a bit but I get it!”

“You were sad? Fuck, man.” Isagi sighs. “I know I hurt you, we were friends and I just threw it away because the fame got to my head.”

“No, no, I was barely sad- uh-” She panics, trying not to make him think he treated her anything besides perfectly. The last thing she wants is for him to remember her as that one salty fan he ditched. She’d rather him remember her positively, like someone who’s sweet, kind, an old friend. “I just missed you, it’s so good to see you! I never stopped listening to your music and supporting you, and when I saw you were coming here on tour I just had to go! I really am surprised you remembered me at all.” She chuckles nervously, her palms clammy and her eyes shaky.

He’s really just standing here, trying to apologize to her, with his shirt off. How can she possibly focus on a serious conversation?

“You’re surprised I remembered you?” He tilts his head to the side.

“Uh- well- I just felt like since you didn’t like me like I liked you I just thought you probably had other girls you were talking to or you know getting famous you’d want to like have girls and not really want me talking to you all the time-” It’s like her words are spilling from her lips before she can stop them, her eyes darting everywhere in the room besides Isagi. It’s like the things she’s been wanting to say to him can’t be stopped.

“Hold on.” He stops her. “You didn’t think I liked you?”

“Um, um at least not like that uh, you know-” She panics, her heart beating out of her chest and a layer of tears forming over her eyes.

“Y/n, I wanted to apologize to you because I did like you, and I didn’t want to tell you that because if I was going on tour, I wouldn’t be able to see you. And I just cut you out instead.” He sighs.

The words don’t even fully sink in at first. “Oh, okay.”

“I liked you, like, the whole time. So I just wanted to apologize.”

It finally starts to make sense. “It’s- it’s okay. It’s okay. I- you-”

Isagi chuckles. “Maybe I can’t date you, but-” He leans down, placing a finger under her chin, forcing her nervous gaze into his deep blue eyes. “I could make it up to you, if you like.”

His gaze is hypnotic, just like his voice. “I wanna, um, I- you- your-” She takes a breath. “Sorry.” She squeaks.

“Tell me what you want.” His voice is softer, slower, closer than before. She hasn’t heard this version of his voice before. It’s beautiful.

“I want, I want-” She takes another breath, a deeper one, one that lets her fully realize what she’s about to do. “I want you, Yoichi.”

“Hm.” He breathes out. “I was hoping you’d say that.” He closes the gap, bringing their lips together, his finger still under her chin as he leans over her.

Her hands grip the sheets, her legs shaking as she sits upright on the bed. Suddenly she feels like this is her first kiss ever, like she has no idea what she’s doing.

His kiss starts out soft, but quickly devolves into something dangerous, something ravenous. His hand traces from her chin to her shoulder, his fingers pressing into her skin to push her backward.

And she lets him. How could she not? His fingers feel like they’re leaving permanent marks on her skin, like she’ll never forget where he touched her chin, her neck, her shoulders. She finds herself looking up at him, reaching for the towel around his neck to bring his lips back into hers.

In no time he’s on top of her, hungrily making out with her like he wants to devour her, his strong arms holding his body above hers as if he’d crush her if he were to let his weight crash down. She wouldn’t mind though, she’d be totally okay with him crushing her.

“Always wanted this.” He breathes out, leaving a slight space between their lips only briefly before reconnecting them. His tongue slides effortlessly against hers, his saliva dripping from his tongue to hers. It’s so wet, and it tastes so damn good.

She can only whine in response, reveling in his taste. She doesn’t have the space to talk anyway, not with his lips drinking up every single one of her noises.

“Love those pretty sounds, fuck I’ve been missin’ out.” He shifts his weight to one side, tracing his other hand down her body to the hem of her shirt. “Want this off, baby.”

Y/n licks her lips, completely dazed. “Off, baby?” She repeats, as if she’s shocked he would even say it.

“Want it off, so fucking bad.” His voice is so lustful, filled with such a different tone than his normal, upbeat, kind attitude. He’s horny.

“Mhm, please-” She lets him grab her collar, forcefully pulling her up so he can swiftly lift her shirt over her head.

“Ahhhh-” He groans. “And I’ve been missin’ out on that?” His movements are rough, his hands forceful, needy. Within seconds her bra is discarded on the opposite side of the room, his tongue cascading over her nipples like he’s painting them with his saliva.

She can’t stop herself from whining, moaning, it’s the only thing her brain can do while he sucks her tits like he’s trying to drink from them. He’s so different right now, he’s so dominant with her. She wants to sign her body over to him, she feels like her body should belong to him.

His other hand slides to her untouched breast, his fingers moving to pinch her other nipple, kneading it as if he’s trying to bruise her. His hand trails further, traveling smoothly under her skirt to rest on her plush thigh.

“G’na need these off too~” He slips his finger under the waistband of her panties, popping his mouth off her nipple to get through his sentence.

“Mhm~” Y/n nods, her hands resting her hands behind her head as she lets his expert movements own her body.

She’s dripping, she knows she is. The thin fabric of her panties wasn’t doing a great job of protecting her from her own arousal, but he slides them down her legs anyway, the soaked fabric leaving a trail of wetness down her thighs.

“Hm~” Isagi chuckles, his lips wrapping back around her nipple like it belongs there, dipping his middle finger into her soaked cunt. “Look at you, such a wet little pussy for me.” He says, adding a second finger.

Her body is a mess, her voice is fried, her brain is mush. She can’t do anything besides submit to his fingers etching themselves into the memory of her walls like they’re shaping her body for him and him only. His mouth makes a mess of her breasts while his fingers make a mess of her inner thighs, pumping easily into her slick hole.

“You’re already so ready f’me, but I need y’to cum first.” He gives his mouth a break, a final bead of saliva dripping from his tongue and landing on her already well-coated nipple. Without his mouth occupied, he goes harder with his fingers, curling them into her g-spot like he was the one who put it there in the first place.

“Fuck- fuck fuck- ahh~” The breathless gasps leave her lips, her eyes snapped shut as she feels the aggressive knot grow in her stomach.

“Y’need more? Hm? Bet you do, such a slut for my fingers.” He slurs, his thumb moving to rub quick circles on her throbbing clit.

“I- gonna- Yoichi~” She whines, the knot exploding ferociously as she cums around his fingers, leaking out of her hole as if it was too full to stay inside..

“Ah there ya go, dirty girl.” He spits, sliding his coated fingers out of her aching pussy, directing them immediately into her mouth. “Clean me up, will you?” He forces them between her lips, her tongue circling over his fingers, soaking up every bit of her own cum. It’s demeaning, it’s degrading. But it’s so damn hot.

“Taste good sweetheart?” He smirks, using his free hand to step out of his sweatpants he probably shouldn’t have put on after his shower in the first place.

“Hm, f-fu-” She tries, her mouth too full to let any coherent words form.

His cock springs out of its confinement, finally freed from the shackles of his boxers that struggled to keep him contained at all. And seeing the size of him- y/n wonders how any boxers would be able to survive without being shred to pieces by his gorgeous, thick cock. She wonders how she’ll be able to survive without being shred to pieces.

“Scared baby?” Isagi smirks, forcing her gaze from his cock to his dark, lustful eyes. “Don’t worry, you can take it.” He leans down to kiss her, a menacingly soft, degrading kiss. “Either way, you fucking have to.” He places one last threatening kiss against her lips.

Before she can process it, his arms are wrapped around the backs of her thighs, sliding her ass slightly off the edge of the bed as he lines his cock up with her desperate cunt. The oversensitivity of her orgasm makes his tip against her hole even more intense. She can’t help but writhe against his grip almost animalistically, like she wouldn’t be able to stop if she tried.

She’s wet enough for him to slide in easily, filling her up as if he’s carving out her hole himself. She wraps around him perfectly, squeezing around him in a way that causes his breath to catch in the back of his throat as he sucks in through his teeth. His nails dig deeper into her thighs, likely leaving a set of gorgeous nail marks she’ll surely cherish later.

“Fuck~” His saliva pools in his mouth as he speaks, threatening to drip onto her exposed skin. “It’s like you’re sucking me in babygirl.” He breathes, holding her thighs tight as he begins fucking into her.

Her fingers grip the sheets so hard she feels like she might rip them, she couldn’t have imagined being fucked like this, no matter how many times she got off to the thought of him back then. No matter how many times she’d play their songs in the background while she pleasured herself. She couldn’t have forced her brain to come up with a scenario where he holds her over the edge of the bed and fucks into her like she’s a doll.

It doesn’t take long for his thrusts to become relentless, her cunt squelching with each forceful plunge of his thick cock.

“Fuck, flip over.” He demands, though doesn’t give her any time to move her body on her own, flipping her body himself using only his tight grip on her thighs. “Knees.” He commands, and she does exactly as he says, propping her ass up and leaning forward on her elbows.

“Damn, what a fucking nice ass.” He slaps her once, gripping the plushy skin as he sheathes himself inside her once again. “G’na fuck you hard ‘till I cum, kay?” He uses his other hand to grip her hair, shoving her face into the mattress. “Be a good toy f’me.”

“Mhm~” She whines, though he wasn’t waiting for her confirmation anyway.

His thrusts are somehow harder from behind, wrecking her pussy with every forceful push of his cock between her slick walls. He pounds into her, leaving her nothing but a whiny mess as her pleas are muffled under the weight of his hand pressing her into the bed. The pain is overwhelmingly masked by the pleasure of being fucked by him, Isagi Yoichi, the lead singer of Blue Lock, but even she knows she’ll struggle to walk- or even stand- after this.

“G’na cum, g’na fill you~” He grunts, sloppily thrusting a few more shaky times before painting her insides white, his cum overflowing her cramped pussy. He pulls out, finally letting up on his tight grip on her hair and ass, his cum spilling out along with him.

“Yoichi-” She finally manages, shakily rolling over onto her back. “That was-”

“Hm? You think we’re done?” He stands over her threateningly, immediately sliding one of his fingers between her used, overstimulated folds.

“Babygirl, it’s only just begun.”

#blue lock #fanfic #anime #blue lock smut #bllk x reader #isagi yoichi #isagi x reader #band au #bllk band au #bllk fanfic #blue lock fanfiction #isagi yoichi smut #isagi smut #isagi yoichi x you #anime fanfic #anime smut #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer

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tumbleweedtech · 9 months ago

Note

okay happy to give a prompt because I need alerudy like I need air they are so underwritten. I’m too Latino and too gay to not need them. Beware because it’s fluffy.

Dance lessons! I headcanon Alejandro as coming from a big family where Rudy might have only had one or no siblings, and you might think that means Ale had more opportunity to dance, that would be wrong. Alejandro got lost in the mix of family and by the time he’s like 15 he 1) can’t dance a basic cumbia because everyone figured he’d just pick it up and 2) is old enough that being bad at dancing is embarrassing rather than endearing. Rudy, by contrast, has been his single mom’s dance partner for years, right up until she got re-married (and he danced his ass off at the wedding too).

So Ale sucks it up and asks Rudy to teach him how to dance because it’s quinceañera season and he can’t go another year claiming he twisted his ankle. So the lessons begin. In secret, late at night on top of a roof near the bar district, where they can hear the music from below. Where no one can see two boys dancing. Rudy has him start by following, then by leading, and then they switch off. Dealer’s choice whether Rudy is dying inside because he’s wanted to dance with Ale for years, or if this is a Gay Awakening, but either way. They’re feeling Something.

I have no idea where this ends which is why I’m giving up custody to you!

how could you possibly know i am currently writing a cumbia fic with alerudy

how. *How*, Nonny? Alright. *cracks knuckles* Let's have at'er. (note: I'm going with Alejandro's mom is Rudy's madrino, and vice versa. Because idk about you, but my nina was treated like my second mother, no questions or argument allowed.) No CWs, just fluff of teenage boys with crushes dancing.

"Alejandro."

"Rodolfo."

Rudy rolls his eyes at the way Alejo parrots back, defensive. "Si se puede, Alejo."

Alejandro's refusing to look at him, frowning deeply, and it's heartbreaking how beautiful he is even now, gripping his own elbows, hair hanging in his eyes.

It was Alejo's tío who originally showed the boys this spot. The bright lights of the mercado cast its long flat roof into shadow; the strangely blinking red lights on its sign left it feeling private and alone. It hadn't been what Rudy had been looking for at the time. He'd heard there would be a meteor shower, and his mama was working that night. He knew Alejandro would go with him, he just had to find a place dark enough to see the stars.

They never did see the stars falling, but Alejandro held his hand as they watched the grey clouds cover a red-tinted sky and that was enough.

Tonight? The sky was clear and they could hear the distant but cheerful beat of the bar in the alley below. Rudy hoped it'd be loud enough to dance to.

Alejandro never liked failing, grouchy and embarrassed even as Rudy tried to model the steps.

"Alejandro, ven. Por favor. ¿Bailar conmigo?"

Rudy held a hand out, waiting. It was rare that Alejandro would deny him anything he wanted, a fact his mother had pointed out to him with a sly smile. He'd asked her once why she never went out dancing. She had cupped his cheeks and squeezed. "Mijo, there is nothing better than dancing with someone you love with your entire heart. Dancing in a club? You can go with your friends and have fun. Take Alejito, he needs the fun. But I am happy, here, dancing with you."

He was tall enough now that it was easier for him to lead when dancing with her, but she'd taught him both skills. “You never know who you will want to dance with”, she'd insisted.

He was pretty sure she knew who he wanted to dance with.

And that person didn't want to dance with him.

Rudy sighed. "If you want, Tía Lucía is probably still awake. I can—"

With an angry snarl, Alejandro stomped over, holding his arms out stiffly. He still refused to look directly at Rudy now that they were standing so close together under the aging neon sign. Rudy couldn't help but feel a whisper of hope that the tint of red across Alejandro's face was the blush his mama swore was there when he wasn't looking.

"I'm not asking Tía Lucía to teach me to dance for her own daughter's quinceañera. She'll know why I didn't dance at Letty's."

"Okay. You sure you're not going to punch me? It's easier to learn the steps at first if you follow."

Alejandro's shoulders dropped, the frustration leaching out of him with a heavy sigh. He looked around again, taking in the soft echo of the music from below, the flickering light, and gestured for Rudy to come closer. "Not going to punch you. Not your fault, I—"

Whatever he was going to say was startled out of him as Rudy took his hand to pull him close, the other hand on his waist. "Relax."

Rudy shifted him gently, and Alejandro panicked, tightly gripping his shoulder, glancing down at their feet.

"Don't look. Just trust me, okay? Count with me."

Rudy counted a quiet beat, letting Alejandro slowly relax into the rhythm. He was good at it, once he relaxed. Rudy encouraged him around, into a small circle, before the song changed again, a bouncy, cheerful song that Rudy recognized from his mother's small, crackly radio.

"You try leading now." Rudy shifted their joined hands, rubbing his sweaty palm on his thigh before reaching up to clasp Alejandro's shoulder. He desperately wanted to wrap both arms around his neck and press close, but he was fairly sure he couldn't get away with claiming it was part of teaching him to dance.

Alejandro approached it like he did everything else new to him. Brow furrowed, concentrating. Rudy doesn't know exactly when Alejandro managed to get taller than him, but it took his breath away to look up, the bright glow reflecting in Alejandro's dark eyes that met his, studying him so intently.

He tested, his fingers gently pressing, guiding Rudy. His confidence grew as the song went on, and Rudy surrendered to the warmth of Alejandro's arm around him, hand gentle on his back. "Not so hard, is it?"

Alejandro's wry smile as he ducked his head was answer enough. It wasn't a difficult dance, at least not the basics. Alejandro lifted a shoulder at Rudy's questioning eyebrow. The movement shifted Rudy’s hand, and it was excuse enough. He took the moment to curl his hand around Alejandro's neck, feeling the knobs of his spine and tangling his fingers in his long, dark curls.

"Plenty to learn still, besides just the basic steps. Unless this is enough for you?"

Alejandro's voice cracked slightly, eyes wide as he pulled Rudy closer, both of them moving slower as the song faded out. "Might need more practice. I've seen you dance with Nina Antonia, there's spinning involved."

"Then come over tomorrow, after school. You know my mom won't make fun, and we've got the music. She's making pozole anyway, you know you want to."

"Fine," Alejandro huffed, pretending it was a hardship like they weren't always at each other's homes for dinner anyway. Tomorrow was a rare day off for Rudy’s mom, but he knew she wouldn't mind. "One more song first?"

Rudy shifted close again as Alejandro's too-warm hand gripped his ribs and they moved with the rhythm of the drums. Rudy had always enjoyed dancing with his mama, but he thought that maybe she had a point. Dancing with her was very, very different than dancing with Alejandro, especially with the way his eyes glittered in the dark.

#alerudy #alejandro vargas #rodolfo parra #alejandro x rudy #they're just babies here though #consider this backstory to my other cumbia fic if you've gotten snippies of that.#teenage boys dancing is just so cute #both of them crushin on each other #well shit it's been awhile since i just dropped a one shot like that #don't hate me if it's out of character i'm still babey in this fandom pls oh god #tryin real hard tho

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analogwriting · 8 months ago

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The Other Side of Paradise

Prologue: Youth

Killer x gn!reader word count: 1.1k next a/n: hey, hi, hello. I'm finally back with another long fic oh my god im sorry i took so long. i didn't really plan on being gone that long pls forgive. anyway, there's a long story of how this idea came to fruition but i don't think anyone wants to hear all that lmfao. it was born from the glass animals song 'the other side of paradise' hence the name. im probably just gonna make the chapter titles different song titles and shove in lyrics here n there like normal lmfao ill stop rambling lets gooooo

“We should form a rock band when we’re old enough.” Kid suddenly sat up from where he had been laying down, struck with a sudden and brilliant idea.

A group of kids from the neighborhood were currently laying in the grass at the park after a long day of playing - this included you.

“Oh yeah? What’s with the sudden idea?” Wire asked, also sitting up to look at Kid. He crossed his legs, tilting his head to the side. He lived across from you.

“Well, I think we’d be good at it. And it would be fun. And we could all hang out all the time!”

“We already do hang out all the time,” Heat said, sitting up as well to join in on the conversation. He also lived across from you, next to Wire.

“Yeah, but I mean when we’re adults. This will be a sure fire way to make sure we’re always together!” Kid rolled his eyes as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.

“I’m in as long as I get to marry y/n.” Killer sat up now, pulling you with him. He lived next to you.

You smiled widely. Sure, you two might have only been eleven right now, but you’ve been convinced you were going to marry this boy since you met him when you were seven. Even moreso when the two of you were sitting in the classroom at the ripe age of ten, holding hands when he officially asked you out.

“Ugh. Gross. But as long as you join my band then fine!”

“You’re literally seven, how do you know you’re still gonna wanna be a rockstar?” You looked over at Kid who narrowed his eyes at you. “Says the one who is literally eleven and convinced they already know who they’re gonna marry.”

You guffawed at him, pouting and folding your arms. “You don’t understand, you’re too little!”

“I’m seven! I understand plenty!” He shook his head, scoffing.

“Nuh uh!”

“Uh huh!”

You felt Killer put a hand on your thigh and you groaned, folding your arms and rolling your eyes. “Whatever. You’ll understand when you meet your special someone. When you’re older.”

“You’re literally eleven, Bigs,” he said again, rolling his eyes at you. Arguing with Kid like this was frequent. He was your cousin and lived with you, after all. He had moved in a couple of years ago when an unfortunate accident happened to his parents - your aunt and uncle. He was pretty much like a little brother to you at this point; he sure was annoying like one.

“Whatever.” You huff, rolling your eyes again and standing up. You dust yourself off, stretching.

“You guys have fun in your little rockband. I’ll support from the stands.”

“Nuh uh!” You look to Kid who was standing now, confused at his sudden change of tune. “You’re gonna be in the band with us!” Just like true sibling fashion, going from arguing to begging to hang out in two seconds.

You shook your head, making a face. You folded your arms across your chest. “No. I don’t like people.”

“You’re around us all the time.”

“That’s different.”

“Maybe y/n can be our manager,” Killer chimed, trying to prevent another argument between the two of you. He slowly stood up as well, slowly holding your hand and pulling you away from Kid. Just to be safe. Things didn’t really get physical between you two, but keeping distance helped arguments stay deescalated.

“I don’t know about all that,” you mumbled, shaking your head. Sure, it was mostly the whole getting on stage thing that made you nervous. Maybe you could be their manager. Though, people still made you nervous. You didn’t know the first thing about managing anything. You were eleven.

“Well, you have plenty of time to think about it.” Killer smiled at you and you felt your heart flutter. Sure, you were a kid, but these feelings were real. You couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. You were sure you found the love of your life and he seemed to feel the same - always content at your side.

Besides, he’s the one that asked you out, after all.

“You’re right. We have plenty of time to think about it.” You smiled back at Killer as he reached for your hand. You took his, squeezing it softly.

“Blegh!” Kid stuck out his tongue and shook his head, causing everyone to laugh.

You looked over to your cousin. “What would you even name your band?” He seemed to mull it over for a moment before deciding. “Victoria Punk!”

You blinked, tilting your head to the side. “Like that one girl you had a crush on?”

Kid nodded, grinning widely. You remembered him mentioning he had a crush on a girl named Victoria back in his old neighborhood. He also mentioned that she had also passed, but never gave any specifics and you weren’t one to pry with things like that.

“Well, I think you have to decide that with the others. You can’t just decide it yourself.”

Kid pouted, folding his arms. “I’m the leader! I get to make the decisions!”

“Who said you were leader?”

“I did!” He huffed, glaring at you.

You rolled your eyes, placing a hand on your hip. “You can’t decide that for yourself!”

Kid looked at the others. “What do you think?”

“I don’t particularly care,” Wire said with a shrug. Heat nodded in agreement. “Being in a band sounds fun, but I don’t want the responsibility of leader.”

Killer also shrugged. “I’m just along for the ride. You know what I want.” He looked at you from the corner of his eye and smiled, making your face warm up. He was so sweet!

“Who is gonna do what?” Wire asked, standing up now. Heat followed suit and now all of you were standing.

“Well, I have to be the lead singer since I’m the leader.” Kid nodded as if agreeing with himself. “Other than that…I don’t know.”

“You have plenty of time to figure it out,” you said, using Killer’s words from earlier. He grinned at you and you giggled.

Kid groaned loudly and rolled his eyes. “You two are the worst!” He stomped off, leaving you all in fits of laughter.

#sorry if its structured a little weird #tryna get back into the swing of things bear with me #those funerals and visiting by bio parents took it out of me #my bio parents always wear me out frfr #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #killer x reader #killer #killer one piece #massacre soldier killer #am fics #tosp

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philtstone · 6 months ago

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psych crew of your choice, "putting a hand over the other's mouth to shut them up"

shoutout to zainab and bbc's the musketeers for inspiring the chaos that is fic

The number of times Gus has had to smack a hand over his best friend's mouth in the last twenty four hours is really starting to get unhygienic.

It doesn’t help that even while in the throes of crisis, Shawn’s first instinct is always, without fail, to stick his tongue out and lick Gus’s palm. This was true when they were six and is still somehow true now at age thirty. While Shawn’s phone rings – immediately proceeding the third time they’ve successfully panic-crashed back into the Psych office before Shawn can blurt out something that gets them both jailed – Gus tells him off. It doesn’t matter that Shawn could be finally losing his last marble due to the machinations of cosmic irony; Gus refuses to be licked another time.

“You know how disgusting it is to have your spit on my hand when you literally just threw up two hours ago?” Gus asks, over the irritating jingle of Shawn’s ringtone going wild on the table. Shawn himself has already collapsed backwards onto the couch. Well, really, he kind of tripped. There’s an old pillow pet on the floor that both of them have forgotten to pick up for like, two months, and Shawn’s ability to keep his balance vacated the premises about six hours ago when, mere moments after Gus entered the office, thinking it was going to be a totally normal day for them, his best friend grabbed him by the shoulders – looking vaguely ill, definitely sweaty, and concerningly flushed – and declared, with no little amount of panic in his voice, that he might have actually turned into a real psychic.

A recent phenomenon, of course. Like, just within the last twelve hours. They don’t have any concrete proof, other than the fact that Shawn is convinced he saw, in technicolor, the exact details of a murder that he has encountered absolutely zero evidence for while he was trapped in a supply closet (Gus has no idea how he got there), and, also, had an extremely vivid and detailed vision of himself and Juliet, married.

This last thing happened about twenty minutes ago.

Shawn’s spiraling.

“Okay,” Gus had said, an eventful nine hours earlier. “Explain to me exactly what it is you’ve been seeing.”

“When?” Shawn wailed in a high-pitched approximation of Robin Williams’s Mrs. Doubtfire voice. Gus, perhaps unwisely, brushed this off as only slightly less normal than standard Shawn behavior.

“Yesterday!” Gus said. Shawn had explained – in between three bouts of nausea and one ten minute stint in which he recited all of Ally Sheedy’s lines in St. Elmo’s Fire from memory – that the weirdness started in the middle of the previous night. “What makes you think you’re – seeing things?”

“Because,” Shawn moaned, “I can’t remember why they’re in my head! Or when they’re from. Gus, I woke up at two a.m. and my head was so fuzzy and dizzy that I threw up! And then after I threw up I saw a man, standing in broad daylight, eating two cherry-filled cruller donuts and sporting the world’s ugliest toupe, and then another man falling off the edge of a pier, the pier, it was that pier right outside, but I can’t remember actually seeing either of those two things! Except they’re in my head, Gus! I swear to God they happened! But when?” Shawn, at this point, took a deep long breath, swayed a bit on the spot, and added, “and then I thought maybe to clear my head I should microwave and eat a frozen burrito.”

“Let me guess,” Gus said, in only mild distress, “then you threw up again?”

“Oh my God, how did you know? Gus. Gus. Are you turning into a real psychic too?”

“Man, I don’t know! And, wait a minute, at what point did you end up in the supply closet?”

At this, Shawn put both hands up to his head and looked vaguely deranged. “Gus … there’s no supply closet in the Psych office.”

Oh, boy, Gus had thought.

READ MORE ON AO3

#my writing #touches prompt meme #psych #shawn spencer #burton guster #juliet o'hara #henry spencer #shawn x juliet #shules #shawn x gus #psych 2006 #its actually criminal that there arent 12 more versions of this fic out there

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sappy-detective · 1 year ago

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so i’m obsessed with when fics make shuichi a working detective. and i have a small detective/runaway saiouma AU. warning i talk a LOT

so ouma and saihara are childhood best friends. i’m talking like knowing each other since like kindergarten age.

they’re both attached at the hip. shuichi being a shy introvert and ouma being very obnoxious and outgoing. one thing they have in common is that- well they don’t have any friends. no one wants to talk to shuichi because they think he’s weird and no one likes ouma because they think he’s loud and obnoxious. but they mesh so well and become the best of friends.

and their home lives are very polar opposite.

oumas pretty poor, his dad is an abusive dick and his mom is .. well she try’s to be good but in the end she stands by and doesn’t say or do anything to stop his dad. but he’s a mamas boy through and trough.

shuichis mom and dad pretty much abandoned him with his aunt and uncle. they’re upper middle class and they’re very very supportive and loving to him. they’re his mother and father figure but it’s not the same as having your mom and dad. especially sucks when he sees them in movies and tv shows.

they share everything with each other and are very comfortable with each other. they came out to each other and support each other. they’re just very incredibly close.

then one day, ouma just, disappears?

they’re in about high school when he disappears. about 15-16? at this point, shuichis made friends with kaede, maki, and kaito, along with others in his class. he’s still shy and has social anxiety but it wasn’t as bad as it used to be.

he didn’t notice at first, but found it odd that ouma didn’t text him in the morning, or walk with shuichi to his bus stop.

he and ouma go to different schools so he can’t talk to him direct, so he tries calling ouma during his lunch hour but the call didn’t go through at all.

he was bubbling with anxiety the whole day, kaede and his friends tried calming him down but this is WAy out of character. this goes on for days and shuichis just about to freak because.. we’ll he can’t really do anything.

ouma never invited shuichi over or even told shuichi where he lives. he isn’t embarrassed about being poor or anything but he doesn’t want shuichi meeting his dad.

they always hang out at shuichis house, ouma always walks home and refuses any offers of a ride home from shuichis uncle so shuichi has no idea whats going on.

now with shuichis uncle being a detective i imagine that he tries snooping and he figured out it looks like ouma either ran away from home or was kidnapped.

now this is part you can take out but,

the night before, ouma visited saiharas window. not extremely weird. on school night when ouma isn’t allowed past 9, so he visits saiharas windows to talk to him.

what was odd about this time was that ouma seemed to be in a rush. his face was flushed and he was panting like he just ran a marathon. he was at saiharas window just talking, then periodically popping in cool he thought shuichi was. in a kind of ouma way.

“pst! ouma! come on, we have to go!” shuichi jumped a bit, looking past ouma to see a feminine figure jogging up to his back fence.

“who’s that?”

“just… one of my friends” ouma sighed, letting go of the windowsill.

that night ends with ouma giving shuichi a kiss, a semi love confession and a smile before leaving with his friend.

then he disappears. you can take that part out though. but i think it adds a kind of lead to what happened.

shuichis uncle isn’t allowed to investigate or interfere because he knows ouma so it’s all up to the detective that’s put on his missing persons case. maybe they think he ran away so it’s not being taken seriously?

shuichi just wants to get to the bottom of what happened to his best friend (and let’s be honest, almost lover.)

then it’s teen boy detective saihara snooping around, going to his school just- being a detective.

this is just a funny idea i MIGHT write a one shot about or might not who knows. OBVIOUSLY the people he left with was DICE but shuichi doesn’t know that. i like to think that they’re close this makes shuichi realize that, in reality, he knows nothing about ouma.

sure he knows his favorite food, how he likes his fruit cut and what his favorite flavor of candy is but he doesn’t even know what his parents names are or where he lives.

in reality oumas been planning on running away for a long time, planning with his friends/found family and just has been putting it off because… well shuichi would be alone without him but now that shuichis finally has more friends to help him out he feels comfortable leaving his shitty home life.

definitely wasn’t easy tho!!! you should add more mystery if you want- make it fun

#oh my GOD sappy shut up IM SORRY OKAYY I LIKE TALKING AND I DONT HAVE ANYONE TO TALK TO SO INTO THE TUMBLR ABYSS YOU GO!#that was a lot of talking for a prompt but i’ve been obsessed with detectives and stuff like that since i was like 8 #i’ve been a nerd obsessed with detective and detective work for ever i eat up any books or TV shows so you know i’m obsessed with when-#fics incorporate shuichis detective work with the fic. i also might be autistic but that’s for another day.#this isn’t ALL circling saiouma and you can take and leave whatever you don’t like but it’s just a fun idea u had #shuichi just wants his best friend potential lover back #dangonronpa #kokichi ouma #shuichi saihara #drv3 #danganronpa #killing harmony #danganronpa v3 killing harmony #saiouma #saioma #oumasai #omasai #prompt #sapy prompt #danganronpa: killing harmony #danganronpa killing harmony #danganronpa v3 #danganronpa au #mystery

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saltwatersweets · 4 months ago

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here's an old-ish secret santa fic i made for dr3 (@cdroloisms) in late 2021 :D probably should have put it on tumblr ages ago but It's Here Now // read on ao3 here !!

content warnings: implied torture, blood, abuse, manipulation, morally ambiguous (at best) c!sam, general warden c!sam + c!dream-isms

reblogs > likes

————————

you meet him when he is a child.

you are a child, too, technically, but even with his somewhat tall frame for someone who should only be half grown up, even with the hoodie covering his entire torso and then some, even with the porcelain mask covering his face, you can tell that this boy is younger than you. you can tell it in the way he fumbles as he runs, in the way he clutches his half-broken iron ax too close to his chest, the way he crashes into you and falls to the ground, dragging you down with him.

you round on the kid, a stern word on the tip of your tongue, but pause when you see the way he had fallen; arm underneath his chest, body shaking with the force of his fall. he freezes, shudders, a tiny, muffled groan escaping past his teeth. wincing, he rolls over, cradling his left arm with practically his whole body as he curls inwards.

you make a move to stand, and the rustle of grass and leaves’ movement must alert him to your presence, if his masked face snapping up to stare into yours is any indication. he reels back, and though you can’t see his expression, his body language makes his surprise all too visible. lifting his right arm just the slightest bit, the boy’s shield is dragged from his inventory. the thing is so big and his curled up form is so small he manages to hide himself completely behind the thing.

you wonder why he’s so startled by you for a moment - you don’t even have any weapons out - before it clicks.

you’re a creeper hybrid. of course, of course, he likely mistook you for a regular mob.

after a moment, his shield lowers, and you see the two black dots that make the eyes of the mask. he must get a better look at you, now, because he puts his shield away and makes a small sound of embarrassment.

“did i knock you over?” the boy asks, barely making a sound this time as he pushes himself off the ground. you stare at him for a moment, eyes half open in snarky annoyance. “oh. sorry.”

doesn’t sound very sorry, even if a little sheepish. “it’s fine. don’t do it again.”

he tilts his head at that, akin to a confused animal. “i probably won’t. y’know. i mean, i’ll be heading off right about now, so…”

the boy freezes for a moment, before slapping his face - or the mask covering it, in this case - and making a short huff of exasperation. “shit. they’re still after me.”

well that’s interesting. “what, are you on the run?”

he lets out a small noise that almost sounds like a laugh. “sorta? i mean- like, i’m not being hunted, really, i’m not in danger. well, so long as i’m careful, i mean. they’re not- like, y’know, the law or anything, so-“

“get to the point,” you say, not rudely.

“it’s… basically like a game of tag? but cooler. we call it a manhunt - i coined that name, by the way, don’t let george try to tell you differently - and basically my friends run after me until i give up or win.”

huh. that sounds… incredibly dangerous, actually. you’re certainly not the pinnacle of safety, having your own redstone mob-traps backfire as you get the hang of the red powder won’t get you a reputation as such, but you have the maturity to recognize this as dangerous. you also have the maturity recognize that it does sound, maybe, kind of, fun.

the boy stares at you for a moment, almost but not quite awkwardly. “i gotta go - they’re still chasing me, and now i need to find food to heal myself before they catch up. it was nice meeting you, though.”

“wait.” you begin, surprising yourself. you reach out for his arm, but think better of it at the last second and quickly pull it back to search through your inventory. shifting through for a moment, you summon a healing pot. “for your arm. i mean, it was partially my fault you broke it.”

he stares at it, unmoving. you fear you’ve made a mistake - does accepting help from others break the rules of the boy’s little game? is he offended by your offer? but he takes it, a smile in his voice, “trading with villagers isn’t cheating, after all.”

before you can blink, he stuffs a few sticks in your hand, thanking you very much for the potion. you tell him no problem. he runs off, waiting until his front is out of your sight, likely to keep his true face hidden.

you huff lightly. kids.

————————

your footsteps ring out a hollow echo as you walk into his cell.

almost immediately are you hit with the overwhelming stench of it all, the blood and total lack of hygiene tickling your nose through your mask. you wonder how quackity stands it every day. you wonder how you stand it.

you stare at the prisoner, who blinks sluggishly. you doubt he even heard your approach, he seems so out of it, mind a thousand miles elsewhere and unfocused. if he hadn’t pulled this dissociative stunt four times in the past week, you’d briefly wonder if he was concussed. now, however, you only sigh, stepping ever closer to the half unconscious form of your once-friend.

kneeling down, shifting through your inventory, you summon a healing pot. usually, this would spark panic in the prisoner’s eyes, but nothing happens. if it weren’t for the added annoyance that his consciousness brings, you’d be impressed at the fact that he’s even awake.

carding your fingers through his hair, he finally stirs, a mumbled half word escaping past his teeth. you pull his head up by the knotted strands that are matted with half-dried blood, not harshly, not gently, and press the cool glass of the potion against his lips. obediently, he opens his mouth. the still bubbling liquid slips down his throat, and he only gags on it once.

you watch as his wounds stitch themselves together. it’s like clockwork. he is broken shards of glass you must glue together every time it shatters.

after a moment, you replace the empty bottle in your hand with a wet piece of cloth, to clean up the blood. unlike potions, you do not clean him after every session, moreso just once a week. at the feeling of cold cloth on his skin, the prisoner’s half lidded eyes raise, meeting your own. you watch as his pupils, previously swallowing the green whole, dilate as he regains some focus. you turn away. you’d rather not look a monster in the eyes.

“i’m out of water, y’know.” he states, and once again you are taken aback by his audacity. just moments ago he was on the brink of death, and now he has the ability to ask for more water when it’s still halfway full.

“you have plenty of water already, dream.” the wet cloth grazes his arm, the one you had found twisted and limp upon today’s visit, and he winces in phantom pain. in his defense, you’re hardly being careful. in his defense, the blood from his closed wounds is spilling onto your fingertips.

“it’s all bloody. you can see it.” he turns his eyes to the dripping ceiling, then the lava, then to you. “you can see it, sam.”

already, you feel your frustration rise. you had already healed him, and now were cleaning up his blood for him. you didn’t have to do this. you’re being generous.

“if you want clean water so badly, behave. you want these privileges, these things i’m letting you have? then behave. you’re lucky i’m even here, cleaning up your messes.” you stuff the cloth back into your inventory. you don’t care to get your hands dirty.

“you don’t think i’m trying?” he asks, head lolling to the side. “you think you can hurt me in a way i haven’t been hurt?”

there is nothing you hate more than him. him, and how much you used to love him. how much true hatred stems from once-love.

(you hate how scared of you he looks, even as he deliberately measures your patience.) (you hate how scared of him you are.)

you turn away from him. the platform clicks loudly as you leave him behind to the obsidian and bloody water and lava.

as you hold down the lever that will cover his cell in lava once again, you take a better look at your fingers. you regret ever coming in to clean him at all.

he got blood on your hands.

#just ignore how its written in lowercase because i genuinely dont remember why i did that FAKFJASLFJSAL #my post #salt writes #dreblr #c!sam #c!dream #c!sam and c!dream #dsmp #dream smp #dsmp fanfic

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lilyofthevalleyys · 1 year ago

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I love Rosekiller and I think I’ll make a fic rec list about it. Enjoy reading!!

Check the reblogs for more fic recs :)

1. any fic by graveryavery

My summary (MS): seriously, they’re amazing at writing. Have your pick of whichever fic.

Link: graveryavery

2. Drunk on Love by amethyst_citrine

status: 1/1

Summary: Evan Rosier has been in love with his best friend for years. He thinks that every time Barty Crouch Jr. flirts with him, it's just an act, making him roll his eyes and walk away. But maybe Evan is drunk, and thinks it's a good idea to stop running.

MS: Rosekiller at a party. Oh, what could go wrong? These two lovebirds are such idiots honestly

Link: Drunk on Love

3. Midnight Rain by blackmojito

status: 1/1

Summary: In the middle of December, in a house that's not his own, Evan learns the true meaning of warmth.

MS: I love their writing style in its short, sweet way. Also fluffy christmas fics? yes please 🤲

Link: Midnight Rain

4. I’m Not Going To Teach Him How To Dance With You by greensenne

status: 18/18

Summary:

“You’d be my best man wouldn’t you, Evs?

There’s an ugly pain burning low in his chest as he says, “Of course. What are friends for?”

Or, Barty's father forces him into an arranged marriage, and Evan is to be his best man. Which would be fine if Evan weren't head over heels in love with him.

MS: I know, this is a classic and everyone’s heard of it. But for the new people, this is probably a good place to start to get into shipping Rosekiller. And yk, a reread would be good 🤭

Link: The fic bcuz the title is too long

5. Spider-Man: Death Eater Parade by basiliscus

Status: 5/14

Summary: Evan Rosier has been Spider-Man since he was 15 years old and he is tired. He saw it all, he did it all and he hates himself more than any Rita Skeeter ever could. Evan Rosier has seen people die. He let people die. Evan Rosier is tired, his moral code is broken and then a ghost from the past comes to haunt him 5 years after he thought he buried him and sent him off to hell.

Barty Crouch hates Spider-Man. He can't stand the bastard who's willing to let people die when he has the ability to prevent it. Barty spends almost every day on whatever scene Spider-Man goes to. Only break to this routine is an awkward university dropout Evan Rosier that stumbles into his life.

Evan is living a double life as Spider-Man and quite literally hates it. He meets the only person who hates him more than he hates himself.

There's no person on Earth who hates Spider-Man more than Barty. The issue is Barty falls for Evan.

MS: Alright, here’s a Spider-Man alternate au fic with double identities and a enemies to lovers. It is still ongoing though, but love anyway

Link: Spider-Man: Death Eater Parade

6. A Truthful Joke by justreadandwritex

Status: 9/9

Summary: Evan and Barty have been best friends since the age of three. Now they're sixteen, at Hogwarts, surrounded by couples. They joke about it - a lot - but at a certain point, when is it a joke and when is it a desire?

On top of a sexuality crisis and family issues, has to deal with another feeling, or rather feelings. For his best friend.

And while his best friend seems to pull away from him, Barty tries everything in his power to keep Evan in his life. They're best friends after all, right? Just friends. Ha.

*Some chapters will discuss homophobia or family issues but I always give trigger warnings

MS: It’s beautiful and I like it. That’s it.

Link: A Truthful Joke

7. Annoying by godforsaken_mess

Status: 31/31

Summary: barty accidentally texts the wrong number. evan just happens to be the victim.

a texting story that i got the idea to write at 3am so you can expect perfection (sarcasm).

obviously rosekiller is the main ship but i'll shift focus onto the other ones from time to time so that they can happen as well.

more focus on the slytherins ofc but the friend group is split up so please forgive me 🙏

i don't own any of these characters!!

MS: Evan is a little shit here and I love him so it’s fine. Also love a good text fic so just 🫶

Link: Annoying

8. Call It What You Want by lxcuxex

Status: 1/1

Summary:

“Sometimes you two are worse than Regulus and James.”

Evan’s attention immediately snapped towards Dorcas who paused mid bite, “What? It’s true. You’re bickering like a married couple.”

Barty simply grinned, leaning forward. “Our fifth anniversary is coming up isn’t it my sweet Evan? Shall we go on a trip, love? Perhaps the countryside?” He suggested, watching as Evan’s face flushed a pink, bright on his freckled cheeks.

The one where Barty and Evan are too clueless to realize they are basically boyfriends.

MS: The last part of the summary is so true though. Anyway, love this fic and idk how many times i’ve reread it

Link: Call It What You Want

9. One got shot and the other got lost by All_for_the_andreil

Status: 1/1

Summary:

“Barty, what the fuck?”

-or-

Barty Crouch Jr. slowly losing his mind when he thinks Evan is dead and then being his psychotic self when he finds out he's being held hostage instead

TW: Blood and violence

MS: Look, I know I said I love a lot of the fics here but this one might take the cake. I love psycho Rosekiller even more than I love fluffy Rosekiller. If you look carefully, you’ll notice this may be the only crazy, semi-canon fic in this rec list, so yes.

Link: Too long title that I’m lazy to type

10. don’t want none of this (good times all times) by cherryknots

Status: 1/1

Summary:

“They’re messing with you both,” Lily whispered in his ear, and he had to lean in close to hear her over the cheers that were louder now as the kisses around the circle grew sloppier with each couple.

“Hm?” Evan blinked, still staring at the spot that had been previously occupied by Sirius. He was long gone now.

“Sirius and Barty,” Lily clarified patiently. “They got you and Remus right where they wanted you. I think that Sirius is currently… making it up to Remus right now in the dorm…"

Evan lifted his eyes back to Barty, who was still staring at him. At how close he was to Lily, a frown deepening on his face.

Oh?

So that’s what this was?

A small smile grew on Evan’s face, and he nodded in understanding. If Barty wanted to play, then Evan would, too.

or, Evan is dragged to another Gryffindor party, and to his dismay, Barty has to kiss Sirius Black during Spin the Bottle.

MS: Evan flirting back to Barty? Are you serious? Yes please. *snatches it and consumes greedily* but anyway, it’s a short fic about them messing with each other, although I have no idea why they would want to do that but yk, ok

Link: Too long title yet again

11. The Very First Night by constellationgrayson

Status: 1/1

Summary: Barty is a detective. Evan is a jewel thief.

But Barty wasn't always a detective, and one look from Evan is making him wonder if his new life is really as fulfilling as he wants it to be.

MS: A somewhat forbidden romance and I am insanely grateful to the author for making it a fade to black kinda scene at one point. Or maybe I just skipped it I can’t remember.

Link: The Very First Night

12. We Found Wonderland by kazsbf

Status: 1/1

Summary:

"Barty never liked closed captions before he met Evan. He hated the idea of having to read something he was meant to be watching, but he learned to love having closed captions automatically turned on for all his devices. He even had them set to automatic on his phone just in case Evan wanted to watch something when they were in the car or the library. He liked seeing Evan's eyes light up when he didn't have to turn them on and make accommodations for himself--they were already there for him."

MS: In other words: Evan is deaf and Barty arranges a date for them that accommodates his disability 🫶 Barty being the sweetest boyfriend

Link: We Found Wonderland

13. remember that night by regulvrs

Status: 1/1

Summary: Evan and Barty share their first kiss. The only problem? Barty doesn't remember it. And that ruins Evan.

MS: Angst with a happy ending! I wanted to throw something at Barty to knock some sense into him but tbf to him, he was drunk, though I have no idea how it works having never drank before or see someone truly drunk but ok

Link: remember that night

14. Sparks fly by bluesofacushion

Status: 1/1

Summary: Evan is head over heels in love with one of his best friends. What can he do? It’s not like Barty likes him back. He is fully determined to keep his secret with him to the grave but Pandora has other plans.

Based on ‘Sparks Fly’ by Taylor Swift so it’s mostly just fluff

MS: It is a sweet fic that is yes, mostly fluff

Link: Sparks fly

15. gods & monsters by littleredpartydress

Status: 1/1

Summary:

“Barty, can we talk?” Evan asked.

Fuck. Is it serious? He couldn’t talk to Evan about something serious right now.

“It’s private so, uh, do you mind following me?”

Of course he minded.

“Sure,” Barty agreed.

Barty and Evan get together after Evan is encouraged by Pandora.

MS: Pandora being the matchmaker here is beautiful

Link: gods & monsters

16. To Be Seen by twoclosetothestars

Status: 1/1

Summary:

“Well, how long have you liked me for?” Evan asks.

“Since when I stayed at your house for summer break before fourth year,” Barty confesses.

“So really you have no room to judge because you didn't mention anything either!” Evan points out.

“Whatever,” Barty grumbles. “We’re both idiots. Now can we get to the part where we kiss because I’m really looking forward to that part?”

“I’m an idiot now, am I?”

“Yes,” Barty agrees. “An annoyingly beautiful, funny, smart, amazing idiot who I’d really like to kiss right now.”

“Sweet talker,” Evan teases, and then his lips are on Barty’s.

MS: They are idiots in love, your honor

Link: To Be Seen

17. All for you by dramaticwitchbitch

Status: 1/1

Summary: Evan was pining. He knew he was. But simply knowing that did not make him feels less pathetic. It should be impossible to fall on love with one’s best friend. But Evan’s poor heart had gone and done it anyway. Barty, of course, was wholly oblivious to Evans pining. Evan supposed it was a blessing anyway. He wasn’t sure if their friendship would survive the thing.

The thing, was what Evan called is quiet obsession with Barty that threatened to burst put into a huge love confession along the lines of, love me like I love you, let’s grow old together; every time Barty smiled at him. Or flirted with him. Or just sat next to him, smelling sinfully good. Or just existing in Evan’s vicinity. Evan had it bad.

MS: Rose is down so bad and so is Bee

Link: All for you

Hope you enjoyed reading all of them :) and surprise surprise, there are more fics that I have yet to read so i’ll most likely be adding on to this :D

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nevertheblood · 2 months ago

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trick or treat!! Give me something good to eat!! or else

hi hi hello :D thank you sm for the ask!!

I will take this opportunity to throw some points from my unwritten skk omegaverse fic at you~~

some extremely vague stormbringer spoilers contained within, I did check you'd read it before writing all this lol, also !!NSFW!

(I'm sorry it's so long and also that it's bullet points 😢 but maybe getting it out like this will make me... actually write the thing... it's been sat in my head since 2022... 👀)

Dazai is an alpha. he presents incredibly young (like 13-14), and the sudden pressure and upheaval to his hormones (essentially going through puberty squared, two sets of intense changes at the same time) contributes to his suicidal feelings. as a result, he never quite gets to grips with his identity and constantly feels like he's never really at home in his own body

when the events of canon kick off, and Dazai is taken in by Mori after an attempt, Mori makes sure to keep him close and under his watch at all times, seeing a young and unstable alpha as a major threat to his leadership of the port mafia

when Chuuya shows up, both Mori and Dazai are utterly convinced he will also be an alpha. he's harbouring a lot of aggression and he's gravitated towards leadership even at a young age... it seems natural.

however, Chuuya surprises everyone, even Dazai, by ending up as an omega, and going into his first (intense) heat age 18

he's with Dazai at the time, who was fairly sure he was already used to dealing with Hormonal Bullshit since he'd presented so young, but Chuuya blindsides him. fighting his instincts that scream at him to take Chuuya where they stand, to make him his, he helps his partner home; and despite Chuuya's begging, refuses to fuck him before they can talk it out while they're both lucid.

It’s not that he’s never thought of Chuuya like this before. They’re both teenagers, after all, and Chuuya has been startlingly beautiful since the day he first kicked Dazai through several walls back in Suribachi. But this Chuuya... this Chuuya is raw sexual energy, body burning with it, everything in him driving towards one single act. It’d be... it’d be easy, like this, right? To take Chuuya like this when he’s flushed and desperate and wet, when he’s almost begging for it, already hard and rutting against Dazai’s thigh? Wouldn’t it be so easy to fuck him against the wall of one of those warehouses just there, that slim, pretty body taking Dazai’s cock like he was made for it? But Chuuya isn’t himself, like this. He’s barely even lucid. If Dazai took advantage now, Chuuya would never trust him again, and Dazai would never, ever, forgive himself. Chuuya is his partner. They work well together, in spite of their mutual misgivings, and Dazai absolutely needs – and wants – Chuuya to trust him more than he needs to get his dick wet.

Dazai has to leave Chuuya at his apartment and head to Bar Lupin to clear his head. he makes sure Chuuya has food and water but he can't do much more than that, not trusting that he won't lose control under the onslaught of Chuuya's new and overwhelming pheromones. it frightens him - he's always the one in control, the clearheaded one, the one with a plan. Chuuya's often had the capacity to surprise him, and that's why he's always privately held his partner in such high esteem, but Chuuya's never shocked him like this, and Dazai is still barely just eighteen and doesn't know how to deal with any of it.

Chuuya, later, when his first heat has cleared and he's taken stock of what's happened, is of course pissed the hell off that Dazai left him alone to suffer again. this is post-stormbringer, and Chuuya's still not sure he's wholly forgiven Dazai for everything.

they get into an argument about it. it's messy. but in the end, Dazai has to concede Chuuya's point - he should have known Chuuya would be willing to trust him with the vulnerability of his heat. Chuuya's trusted him with his most vulnerable state, with Corruption, at least twice at this stage. isn't it an insult to that trust for Dazai not to rely on Chuuya too?

they make a promise to spend Chuuya's next heats together. I have some more nsfw ideas for this but they are not fully formed so I will share them at a later date 👀

the main key thing is that Dazai's scent is smoke. Chuuya compares it to a gun that's just gone off, sharp and metallic and, for Chuuya, tinged with adrenaline. (Akutagawa compares it to the time he saw a warehouse burn down in the slums; burnt metal and blood. Atsushi would say it's a hearthfire, warm and smoky and like home. Neither of them are wrong.)

Chuuya's scent is lavender. He hates it, at first, feels like a constant reminder of his secondary gender, a reminder that omegas are supposed to be delicate, soft, weaker. Even worse, when he's in heat, his scent turns sweeter, almost sickly. Dazai says he tastes like parma violets, just to tease, and it pisses Chuuya off. It doesn't fit him. But then, Dazai's the same, isn't he? Dealing with the heavy mantle of a secondary gender that doesn't fit him, dealing with the weight of responsibility in the mafia so young. as always, their differences and similarities draw them closer in equal measure.

when they become bonded mates, Dazai's smoke scent turns a little more floral; maybe a little pot-pourri, a rose-garden slashed and burned, acrid and sweet at the same time. in turn, Chuuya's scent becomes more smoky, almost exactly like lavender incense. it drives Dazai crazy, that this change is so stark - that anyone who can sense Chuuya's scent will know he belongs to Dazai and vice versa.

ANGST TIME BELOW (abt dazai leaving the mafia)

dazai leaves the scene after oda dies and goes back home. there's blood on his hands. he tries to wash it in the bathroom sink but it's seeped into the bandages and it won't come off. chuuya is there, bc at this point they're a bonded pair and they live in each others pockets.

chuuya says "come to bed?" dazai says "in a minute. I need to clean up." "jeez," chuuya says, noticing him face on for the first time, "you look like shit. what happened to your bandages?" "got blood on them," dazai says. he doesn't bother to elaborate. it's obviously not his and he's still not fully processed that it's oda's. "you're always so messy, idiot." chuuya's scolding is half hearted and dazai barely hears it anyway. "don't take too long, okay?" he kisses the heel of dazai's palm, where the bandages have come away and blood still stains the skin, pinkish. when he's gone, dazai just stares in the mirror. he feels like he's going insane. or, well. more insane. chuuya is supposed to be his mate, his partner, his other half - but he hadn't seemed to notice that anything was wrong at all. like dazai hadn't just watched his best friend - probably his only friend - die in his arms. it's a little bit scary. has he always covered shit up, buried it down, masked it all....this well? all the time? it hadn't mattered to chuuya whose blood it was in the sink. maybe once it wouldn't have mattered to dazai, either. 'be on the side that helps people', oda had told him. he can't stay here. he can't stay here, and no one understands. not even chuuya. while chuuya sleeps, dazai searches online what happens if you break a mate-bond. if you even can. he feels unravelled, in a literal sense, bloodstained bandages gone, forearms bare in the glow of the laptop screen. chuuya is only wearing a loose shirt to sleep in, and the mark where his shoulder meets his neck is visible in stark detail. the science says a traumatic event could be enough to disrupt an established bond. dazai has to get out. he plants the car bomb. hopes it's enough.

four years later, when dazai finds himself chained in an all-too-familiar basement room, he catches an all-too-familiar floral scent before he hears the all-too-familiar footsteps on the stairs. his first thought is "well, fuck." his second thought is "at least it's only lavender. maybe we were able to sever the connection after all." but when chuuya's in the room with him, it's impossible not to notice the way he's grown his hair to hide the right side of his neck. the scent of burning incense - the smoky overtones that dazai can't help but recognise as his own. his body knows before his mind has caught up to know what's happening, even after years apart, every instinct and nerve ending screaming in recognition. his mind goes wild for a second, just a second before he brings himself back under control, but it's long enough. lavender incense. the scent of a mate. partner. every cell in dazai's body calling out; mine mine mine all mine; mate partner lover oh god chuuya. there's no mistaking it. chuuya is still, for want of any better word, his. and he's standing there, smirking like he's got several years of payback due at once. well, fuck.

#there's so much more to this au #a smattering of dazushi also #but I start with this #omegaverse yelling time!!!#inbox trick or treating #bsd #bsd fic #ask game #this has seriously lived unwritten in my head since december 2022 so please. i would like opportunities to talk about it 👀#my writing

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