#on second thought maybe i Will write this. sometime. eventually. idk | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

a-spes · 2 months ago

Note

Hi I was rereading devious lies and I was thinking ab if nat and yn were to meet again and everything, yn would have the biggest trust issued ever. First her best friend took advantage of her and ruined her life, then the ones she considered family turned their backs on her without even letting her explain her side, and ofc how her lover shouted in her face that she's not welcome there anymore and how yn shouldn't even talk with her anymore ever. How the last time the team looked at her it was with anger and dissapointment That and also from the first part where she herself admitted to feeling like a stranger amongst her once friends and family.

Idk what you have in store for us for when you're feeling better and out of the writing block that you're currently experiencing, but I can't wait to read it. Take as long as you need, we're here!

˚ 　 ⋆ ⁺ ₊ ✦ ⁺ ₊ 　 ˚ 　. ˚ . 　 ☁ . 　　. 　 ˚ 　⁺ ₊ ⁺ ✦ 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖎𝖓 𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖘 ₊ . 　 ˚　. ✧ ⁺ ✦ ₊　　 ☁ ˚　 . ⁺ ₊ ✧ ˚　 . 　 ˚　 ⁺ ₊ ˚

₊ ⁺ ✦ ₊　　 ☁ 　˚　 . 　⁺ ₊ ✧ ˚　　 . 　 ˚ ˚ 　. ☁ ˚ 　. ˚ 　 ✩ ₊ ˚ . ☾ ⋆ ⁺ ₊ ✧ 　　˚ ⁺

˚　 . ⤳ DEVIOUS LIES — Bonus part, 'the scars in our hearts' (6.280 words).

⋆ ⁺ ₊ ✧ ⤳ SUMMARY — Anon request — “ It has been years since the events, and when you eventually got the chance to go back with them, you thought everything would be the way it used to be. except it wasn't. three years, almost four, is a lot of time, and the people you used to know and the building you called your home do not feel the same anymore. Maybe you've been gone for too long to hope to find a place in their new life. ”

. ☁ ˚ ⤳ TAGS & WARNINGS — Natasha Romanoff x Reader, Avenger!Reader, Female!Reader, Other Avengers x Reader (brief mention of them). Bittersweet, (kind of) angst with comfort. Self-doubt, mental health issues, mention of bad coping mechanisms, toxic relations.

˚ . ⤳ MOODBOARD ⊱⋆⊰ MASTERLIST ⊱⋆⊰ TO SAY SOMETHING ✦ Part one. Part two. Part three. ⊱⋆⊰ the scars in our hearts.

˚ 　 ⋆ ⁺ ₊ ✦ ⁺ ₊ 　 ˚ 　. ˚ . 　 ☁ . 　　. 　 ˚ 　⁺ ⁺ ✦ ₊　　 ☁ ˚　 . ⁺ ₊ ✧ ˚　 . 　 ˚　 ⁺ ₊

You’ve been told that you just needed a bit of time to adjust, because you come a long way, but they didn’t say how long ‘a bit of time’ was. So the months passed, they soon became years, and if you’ve still made no progress, you kept hoping. Every day, you repeat yourself that you only need ‘a bit more of time’ and that, soon, with just a little extra effort, everything will eventually be fine.

Except that you’ve never been a patient person.

They made it sound easy. They made you believe that everything would go back to the way it used to be in weeks, and you’ve fallen for their sweet words because you were craving for them to be true. You have dreamed of that moment, and every day you’ve spent far from them was spent thinking about the day they would ask you to come back. It is a little fantasy you’ve been holding on to for the past few years, but the tears, hugs, and excuses you’ve spent hours to imagine never became a reality. No, you only got silent glances.

It has been almost three years since you came back, and it still wasn’t enough. Sometimes, you think about letting go of that dream of yours, the one that makes you believe that things could still get back to normal, even when nothing was —; but how could you do something like that? How could you possibly think about abandoning them again when they’ve been willing to give you a second chance? You weren’t ready yet to accept that the home you’ve been longing to return didn’t feel like it anymore, at least not without first trying your hardest to make things right. Thus you kept pushing yourself a bit more everyday, at the cost of your health — which seemed a very small price to pay in exchange for the feeling of being at home again.

Two years is not a lot of time in a human life but these years still felt like an eternity to you, and you’ve never been so aware of how long they have been as when you came back, realizing the gap that had opened up between you and the others. Your life has fallen apart that day, leaving you with such small pieces of yourself that you weren’t able to rebuild on your own —; but them? It is as if they’ve lost nothing. They’ve spent those two years building a life in which you’ve never existed, one that you are now supposed to find a place in. Every day is just a painful reminder of what you have lost, and will never get back despite your hopes. Your dream slipped away just when you touched it with your fingertips.

You have to accept that you are not a part of the system anymore, you are just the pebble that derails the machine, and that ruins everything —; but you should be used to it, shouldn’t you? To that feeling of shame and sorrow that your heart has been carrying for years, that feeling of failure and permanent disappointment.

Some nights, out of habit, you push the wrong door, and you find yourself in the room you used to share with Natasha. Once full of life, it had now become austere. Yet, there is something comforting about being in that room full of old memories, it is a bittersweet feeling that’s both like a heartbreak and a warm hug. You've never been much of a drinker, or at least you've always been careful enough not to get wasted. But you’ve made an exception tonight, because everything seemed to be too much, and you wouldn’t have survived the party if you hadn’t drowned everything in alcohol.

It is the way they kept laughing that got on your nerves, jealousy rising inside of you every time a new joke was told that you couldn’t understand “because you weren’t here” —; but Wanda wasn’t here either, and yet, she laughed along with them, why? Because she hasn’t lost her place with them, she is still a part of the family. They promised that they would tell their stories and explain their jokes later, because it was too long to do it now, but you were aware that it was just a lie to give you the impression that you weren’t on the sidelines.

It wasn’t very effective.

They spent the whole night telling stories that you couldn’t understand and sharing jokes you couldn’t laugh at, and while they remembered things that you didn’t have a chance to live by their side, giving you an overview of all the things you’ve missed, you were silently sitting on the couch, trying to ignore the knot in your throat. You didn’t even try to take part in the conversation —; what could you possibly have said anyway? You are not sure they would have wanted to hear about how miserable your life was when you were gone, how lonely and desperate you’ve been during these years. It would be an admission that you missed them, needed them.

Instead you kept your attention on the bottles of alcohol, at least they would never let you down —; that’s the advantage when the parties are organized by someone like Tony: you will never run out of booze. You were so uninvolved in what was going on around you, that you missed the worried glances that Natasha and Wanda shared, and they didn’t need to talk to understand each other, to know that they both had the same concerns.

Everyone does, but you’ve made it clear in your first few weeks back that you didn’t want their pity. There was no comfort in the way they looked at you and, quickly, their presence became too much. They were always there, never letting you completely alone despite the appearance and trying to meet your needs before you could even ask, pretending that they knew better than you do —; but they don’t. They have no idea of what you need, because how could they when you’re not even sure yourself?

The loneliness you’ve asked for isn’t more comforting, but at least it comes with familiar feelings, some that you’ve learned how to deal with the past few years. On the contrary, you still hadn’t gotten used to their presence, and you had no idea of how to deal with these contradictory feelings that were starting to grow inside of yourself. While a part of you wanted to lean in their embrace, the other rejected their overwhelming affection. A way of protecting yourself that won out, taking the form of uncontrolled anger and, after days of being yelled at and random objects being thrown at their faces, they’ve eventually got the hint that they should let you alone.

They’ve given up on you —; but that’s exactly what you wanted, isn’t it?

You can’t be sure, but you are trying to convince yourself that it is better that way. You’re not worth the trouble, and they definitely can’t spend all their energy trying to save you when people are actually dying outside. You would be fine, you would get through it —; right? Because that’s what you’ve always done, and there is no reason that this time would be any different —; you are strong, with or without them by your side. You just need a little bit of time for your scars to heal and then, everything will be back the way it used to be.

Except that, despite the appearances, those thoughts never really left your mind. Sometimes, you think about your return and what would have happened if they hadn’t found you that day —; maybe everything would have been easier. For you, sure, but also for them. You are not even sure they would have accepted your return if they had a choice —; you wouldn’t have. At least when you weren't there, there wasn't that constant tension that now reigned over the tower, one that followed you into every room you set foot in.

So you’ve made a decision —; you would rebuild yourself without them. You would make a new name for yourself, a new life, even if it means leaving them behind. There is this growing will deep inside you, the one that feeds off your anger and jealousy, and it’s the one to get your revenge. You want them to suffer as much as you have, to realize what they’ve done, and regret every of their actions. You want them to crawl back at your feet, begging for your forgiveness because you are tired of being the only one to make efforts.

You have waited so long for them to say or do the right thing, but the moment has never come because they can’t possibly understand your situation, let alone knowing what you really need to get better —; how could they when you ignore it too? Nothing feels right anymore. You have tried a lot of things but nothing works. Your life is now like a jigsaw puzzle whose pieces refuse to fit together. There is no way to make things go back the way they were, you could only keep on pretending.

And so you did, locking yourself into a routine. Each day you alternate between training, going on missions or attending meetings, leaving yourself little free time. This hectic schedule has the advantage of allowing you to avoid the presence of others and keeping you from thinking too much while making you more efficient —; it is perfect, isn’t it? It is, most of the time but, some days, the illusion falters, and the facade you’ve built shatters, revealing the truth you are trying to hide.

That’s how you found yourself stumbling into your old bedroom, the one that now smells of dust, desperate for some comfort and familiarity. You didn’t even make it to the bed, falling miserably asleep on the carpet —; you didn’t have the strength to get up when you tripped over your own feet, too drunk to take more than a few clumsy steps.

⊱ ★ ⊰

There is only one person in the team who is willing to give you the space you asked for without agreeing to give up on you yet —; and it is Natasha.

You may not notice it, but the woman has always been here for you since you came back to live with them. It must be said that her gestures are minute, almost imperceptible, but they always manage to draw a slight smile on your lips without you realizing it —; she was perfectly aware that if you knew it was from her, you would start hating on those little things that made your daily life at the tower a little sweeter.

She is the one who always accidentally cooks more food than she needed, making sure there was always a portion waiting for you in the fridge. She is the one who makes sure that your favorite cutlery is always clean. She is the one who buys your favorite flowers to put them in the common room’s vase and never lets them fester. She is the only one who has taken the time to make you feel at home with a bunch of details that are so insignificant that you’ve barely noticed them.

But at least it helped soothe the guilt her heart carried, because these actions are proof that she was fulfilling the promises she had made to you a long time ago, in the secrecy of the night, under a starry sky, whispered words that has been immediately blown away by the wind —; “I’ll always be there for you,” she had said. “Promise?” you’ve asked, your eyes full of hope. “Promise,” she had replied before your lips touched, sealing the contract.

One she broke years ago, when she dragged you out of the tower without letting you a chance to explain yourself. The woman is perfectly aware that flowers and some meals won’t be enough to earn your forgiveness, but she still made it her mission to look after you from afar —; because if she doesn’t, who would? You don’t let anyone get close to you, and the others haven’t looked any further, giving up at the first sign of trouble. She doesn’t blame you for not trusting her, or the other members of the team, she just wishes that you would accept at least one of their helping hands.

But you’ve rejected everyone.

Even Wanda, with whom you seemed, at one time, to be getting on well which had given the redhead hope. Those hopes had been shattered the day you violently pushed the witch away without any clear explanation, and the woman blames herself for that, for not knowing what to do in order to help you —; because she should know, right? That’s her role, the promise she had made years ago.

If she can’t, if no one can, what will you become?

You may be able to fool everyone, including yourself, into thinking that you are fine, but you won’t get her to fall for your little tricks. She knows the truth. She can see it in your fake smiles, she can read it in your tired eyes. She knows you by heart, she hasn’t forgotten those years spent by your side, and she has become a master at spotting your bad habits and the sublet signs that accompany them.

So, tonight, she couldn't have possibly missed how firm your grip has been on the bottles of alcohol, nor how quiet you've been the whole time. But it is only when she saw the door to your old bedroom ajar that she understood the extent of your pain. You were hitting rock bottom, you would have never set foot in this room full of memories otherwise. She knew this because she, too, avoided it like the plague, and hadn’t dared return in it since that day, not even to empty it. For five years, it had remained the same.

The woman is willing to give you the space you asked for as long as you are taking care of yourself, it is the silent promise she made, but it is obvious that you have failed to do so lately as she has seen you slowly falling back into your old habits. The ones she thought you had left behind, the ones she had helped you to overcome years ago. She is ready to accept that you could build a life without her, it is a cost worth paying if it’s the one to your happiness, but you haven’t built anything lately. Nor have you been happy, and she couldn’t bear anymore the sight of you destroying yourself, again.

The redhead is tired of the situation. She is annoyed that everyone is playing your games by pretending that everything is fine because it only encourages you down this dangerous path, one that may cost your life one day. She is angry with anyone who takes the easy way out, because it is obvious that it is easier to act as if all that history belonged to the past rather than acknowledge their mistakes.

At first, she had agreed to play along, but it was only because she thought that it was what you needed and that, when you were ready, you would talk to them. Except that it has been a bit more than two years, almost three, since they brought you back, and you still haven’t told a word about it. The woman didn’t know how long she would be able to put up with your silence on this story and your obvious discomfort.

But it seems that the sight of you asleep on the dusty carpet of the room you once shared was the last straw for the woman who decided to step in. You are probably going to hate her tomorrow, but she doesn’t care —; she is not even sure you could possibly hate her more than you already do. She would rather know that you are safe, even if it means losing you a little more so she decides to call your name multiple times.

It is the sound of her voice who wakes you up. It doesn’t matter how deeply asleep you were because you can’t ignore her when she practically screams out your name, and you are inevitably roused from your slumber. When you opened your eyes, a growl escaping your lips to signal your displeasure, all you could see was a blurred figure with red hair that could only belong to one person. One you could recognize anywhere.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked, a mixture of annoyance and concern tinged her voice, but you weren’t aware enough of your surroundings to notice it. Maybe if your hand hadn’t been so heavy on the alcohol, then you would have noticed the tone of her voice.

‘I am sleeping, can’t you see?’ you grumbled, but as soon as the words escaped your mouth, the frustration was replaced by a laugh —; this question was stupid, you realize. Isn’t she supposed to be a trained spy, and one of the best, too? Then why couldn’t she see what was right in front of her? Something that obvious?

Maybe she doesn’t know either because your question is followed by silence. Her only answer has been to sigh and pinch the bridge of her nose. It was going to be a long night, she already knew it, but wasn’t sure she had the energy to deal with that.

‘Come here,’ you said when the woman didn’t react. Your words were accompanied by the gesture of grabbing her arm in order to pull her toward you, the woman losing her balance because of the surprise.

Since she had found you, you had never asked for her presence. On the contrary, you had rejected and hated her. At best, you would tolerate her presence, but only when your job didn’t give you a choice, and so this sudden change in your behavior disconcerted her, especially the laugh that escaped your lips when she fell on top of you —; it is a sound that she has never thought she would hear again. So pure, so sincere.

‘Get up,’ she coldly says, not amused at all by your little games. If circumstances had been different, she probably would have found your attitude endearing and stayed a little longer in your arms. Except there was nothing healthy about this sudden closeness after months of hatred, so the woman immediately got up, inviting — ordering — you to do the same —; the sooner she puts you to bed, the sooner she can get back to hers.

Tonight, she had no patience. The woman was exhausted, and frustrated —; you weren’t the only one to suffer from the situation. She knows that your clinging state is just an illusion, the result of the alcohol you’ve ingested, and that the very next day you’re going to hate her again. If she wanted nothing more than to believe everything would be okay now, and to find comfort in your arms, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Not when she knew she would lose it all again at sunrise. This scene is only a chimera, a reminder of what she had lost several years earlier as the result of her own actions.

If anything happens tonight, you would both regret it. Nothing can come from the actions of two tipsy and exhausted people. Except that your mind wasn’t clear enough to realize it, and all you could think about in that moment was how you were craving for Natasha’s attention. You wanted her to wrap her arms around you and whisper that everything will be fine now, because she is here. You wanted her to promise to never let you down, again. Even if it is a lie. Even if, one day, she will abandon you again —; because that’s what they all do despite the promises, isn’t it? At that moment, you didn’t care about the lies, you just wanted something to hold onto, just an ounce of comfort.

‘I caaaaaan’t,’ you whined, but you didn’t even try to do so. When you stretch out your arms towards the redhead, she gets the hint that you’re expecting her to help you, which she does. The woman knows how stubborn you can be so she grabs your hands and pulls you on your feet, sighing.

Except that you seem to find the idea of testing the limits of her kindness particularly amusing because you make no effort to pull yourself upright, or to stand on your feet —; or maybe you were just that wasted. You’re barely standing when you fall forward, leaving no choice to the woman who has to catch you before you hit the ground.

‘Got you,’ you whispered, a grin on your face, when you felt her arms around your waist.

The thought of dropping you crossed her mind, but all she did was to playfully roll her eyes. The woman should be annoyed by the situation —; right? But how could she when you are so adorable? It has been a long time since she last saw such a peaceful expression on your face. Your eyes were half closed, you looked as if you were about to fall asleep in her arms, and there was a faint smile on your lips. You seemed so content, nestled in her arms with your cheek pressed against her chest, that she hardly dared to move, fearing to break this well-deserved moment of peace. For a moment, it was as if nothing had happened, and the sorrow on your face had dissipated, giving way to a childlike insouciance —; a sight that made her heart melt.

You are the one who broke the silence first.

‘I’ve missed you..,’ you whispered. A confession so unexpected that the woman is not sure if she had understood your words. When her eyes looked down, searching for yours, you hadn’t moved, your eyes still closed. It was almost as if you hadn’t spoken, and that the words had been nothing more than a figment of her imagination.

‘Me too,’ she softly replied and, maybe, if you had opened your eyes at that moment, you would have noticed the tears that clouded hers — but you couldn’t do that, because you don’t want her to see the tears that you are trying to hold back, right? The one that would just run down your cheeks the moment you open your eyes.

‘Please, stay with me tonight,’ you asked —; no, you begged. You’ve lifted your head until your eyes finally meet hers, both were shining with the tears that threatened to fall —; you are the first one to give in.

The mere thought of Natasha leaving you was enough to shatter your last ramparts. You have just regained her embrace, you don’t want to be forced to leave her now, not after so many years of hoping to regain the comfort you thought you had lost forever. You have been too stubborn to admit that you needed help, and so you’ve spent years pushing everyone away, thinking that you didn’t deserve their affection. It has been so long that you can’t even remember the last time someone held you this way, with such delicacy and care.

It gave you hope. The one that, maybe, for at least one night, things could be the way they used to be —; just tonight, or even just a few hours. You just want that moment to last a little longer, you don’t want to spend another night alone in your bed, in your cold and austere bedroom with a depressing atmosphere. You want more than that, you want a reason to stay, a reason to try again, and to get up tomorrow —; you want Natasha back. You want your old life back.

Except that the woman won’t give in. It is not that she doesn’t want to, on the contrary, she shares the same wishes that you, but her mind is clear, and she knows that nothing good would come out of it —; you can’t get back to what you used to have. You can’t change the past, nor can you pretend it doesn’t exist.

‘I can’t..,’ she softly replied after a second of silence that marked her hesitation, ‘you know that baby, we both,’ she added, the nickname naturally escaping her lips when she noticed that more tears were threatening to fall from your eyes.

She wants to say yes, you can read it in her eyes, hear it in her silences —; then why doesn’t she say it? Why does she keep pushing you away when you are eventually ready for her to be back? Isn’t what she has wanted when she spent all those months begging you to accept her help? It is, but she didn’t want it that way, she didn’t want to take advantage of a moment of weakness on your part. She wanted to earn your forgiveness, to show you that you could trust her again, and if she had to work every day until she dies to achieve that goal, then she would do it.

‘Why not?’ you immediately asked back, ‘you are here, and so am I, and- and our bed is waiting for us,’ you started rambling. You couldn’t speak clearly, the words racing through your head as you tried to convince her, but you knew it was a losing battle. You were so desperate that your hands clung tightly to the fabric of her shirt, as if it could be enough to stop her from leaving. ‘Please,’ you begged once more when she didn’t react. At this point, your voice was nothing more than a broken whisper, ‘just for tonight, we could pre~’

‘Pretend that nothing has happened?’ she softly asked, finishing your sentence, and all you could do was nodding. ‘But you know we can’t do that baby,’ she said, hating the way you were looking at her with so much hope, as if you thought that one night in her arms could ease all your problems —; but it can’t. It won’t.

As she talks, one of her hands tucks a lock of your hair behind your ears. The touch is so gentle that you can resist, and lean into her embrace. The feeling of her hand caressing your head leaves too soon for your liking.

‘Sometimes, I wish that we could,’ you replied, ‘that I could either forget everything, or go back in time to make everything right,’ you confided in her, sharing your thoughts with someone for the first time.

The words have barely crossed the barrier of your lips that you crumble, because you realize that this wish will never come true. You can no longer hold back your tears, you can only hide your face in the hollow of her neck, hoping she won’t see those. Only, each of your sobs shakes your body so violently that anyone could understand your state in one glance. The woman doesn’t know what to do so she cautiously wraps her arms around you and cradles your body in an attempt to sooth your sobs —; it’s the least she can do.

‘You’ve done nothing wrong, love, nothing was your fault,’ she whispered, and you can hear that her voice is feverish —; she, too, is holding back tears. She can’t bear to see you like this. ‘I am sorry, so sorry,’ she added while she rocks you slowly. Those words weren’t for tonight, and how she had to refuse your proposal, but they were for everything that has happened since that day. Those excuses were for all the things she has done or said since but, most importantly, for all the things she didn’t have the courage to do and the ones she couldn’t.

⊱ ★ ⊰

The following morning, you’re woken up by Jarvis, his voice echoing through the room, terribly loud and impossible to ignore. A grunt escapes your lips, you were hoping for a few more hours of sleep —; or best, for an eternal slumber. The night before, like the rest of the team, you went to bed late, and the quantities of alcohol ingested are definitely not helping with your condition because you were the victim of a terrible headache. Only, it is impossible for you to ignore Jarvis’ voice. He has been calling your name over and over again for several minutes now, trying to get the attention you are trying to not give him —; but even with your hands covering your ears, his voice would pierces your eardrums.

‘You are not answering me, miss y/n,’ he stated the obvious, ‘do you want me to warn the others that you are sick? My sensors indicate tha~’

‘Please, Jarvis, shut up,’ you mumble, still managing to be polite despite the rising frustration, and you really hope it will be enough for him to leave you alone —; but anyone who knows the AI knows that these hopes are in vain.

Nonetheless, you have to admit that he is right about one thing: you are not feeling so good —; but who would after attending one of Stark’s parties? He always says that if your head is not sore and your throat is not burning the next day, then you haven’t enjoyed yourself enough. Surely you have enjoyed enough to last a lifetime, although you are not naive enough to swear to never touch a bottle again in your life. Yet, you’ve thought of it for an instant, the lingering nausea making you regret your actions because it gave you the unpleasant feeling that you might throw up at any time.

God, you were weak. So weak that everything was feeling too much right now, even the faint sunlight making its way into your room —; it makes you want to bury yourself alive to avoid all these sensations, and to die. Except you can’t because you have a mission that is scheduled for today and, if you don’t show up soon, they will come looking for you, which is the last thing you want. You have spent weeks preparing for that, you definitely can’t let them down now, especially not because you are just too stupid to know your limits.

You have abandoned them once, you won’t make the same mistake a second time. They won’t be so forgiving this time, no one forgives someone who does the same mistake twice —; no one gives a second chance to traitors. It has been several years since you came back, but you still feel like you are on probation and you need to prove to them that they can count on you. You can sense their hesitation to trust you, even though they insist that everything is fine —; pretending that everything is the way it used to be. It is their new favorite game, but you hate it. Y

et, you don’t have much choice but to play by their rules.

‘Are you sure? Becaus~’

‘I said, shut. the. fuck. UP!’ you yelled, not giving him to finish his sentence, already reaching the limits of your patience, ‘what’s so difficult to understand in those two words?’ you growled in frustration, and you can’t help but throw a pillow at the walls. The gesture is useless because it doesn’t even manage to ease the tension you feel, nor does it convince Jarvis that he needs to stop talking because he starts lecturing you about your actions.

Actually, the only way you have found to shut him up was to get up and join the others for breakfast. Fortunately, only Tony and Steve were there. They are the ones you are going on mission with today, and that’s what they were talking about before you entered the room. Even though you would rather stay alone, talking about missions is something you can do with little effort because it is easy. You need your brain, but you can turn off your emotions. You do not have to worry about saying the wrong thing or how to avoid an uncomfortable silence. It is familiar, and comforting. It has been a while since you've been sitting at this table talking about something else —; when you are not talking about work, you stay silent. It seems that you have forgotten how to interact with them during those years.

As they go through the details of the mission one last time, you are playing with your breakfast, not interested in the oat flakes floating in your milk, nor in their voices that forms a dull hum in the background, their words not even reaching your ears —; because you are thinking, your eyebrows furrowed with worry. Except that your state isn’t caused by the reasons they think it is, neither the alcohol nor the mission are in your mind, only a certain spy with whom you shared a moment last night. One you would rather forget because the simple thought of the thing you have said, and done, is enough to fill you with rage and embarrassment.

‘Hi to the moon, here the earth,’ Tony said, snapping his fingers in front of your face to get your attention, ‘were you even listening to us?’ he sighed, but you don’t notice any annoyance in his voice. Only a sickening worry that you can read in his eyes, a feeling that he doesn’t share and doesn’t hide very well. You hate it, when they look at you that way, as if you could break at any moment, as if they needed to be careful —; but you can take it. You can take everything, and you definitely do not need their permanent protection.

‘No, sorry, I was lost in my thoughts,’ you admitted, giving him a smile that I hoped to be convincing enough to reassure him.

‘Do not worry, everything is going to be fine, okay? We will be here to make sure of that,’ Steve intervened, trying to reassure you about what he thought was the cause of your worries, but his tone didn’t feel comforting to you. If anything, it made you grit your teeth and clench your hand harder around your spoon, increasing your irritation. You don’t really know why, but Steve has been the hardest to get along with since you have come back, maybe it is because of his seemingly false sympathy.

‘Thank you,’ you managed to mumble, even though you don’t really mean it —; it was still better than the snide comment that made its way in your mind. You even made the effort to smile, one that anyone could see as fake, but not Steve, because he never really pays attention to the others.

The words burn on the tip of your tongue, and you have to bite it to not shout out to him what you are really thinking. You want nothing more than to tell him that you are as capable as anyone around this table. You have proven yourself over the last few months, succeeding in every mission they have given you, what more do you need to do for them to have faith in your abilities again? Reach for the moon? Because you are ready to do it if that’s the price to pay. You are desperate enough to do anything they would ask.

In reality, you are not worried at all about the upcoming mission because that is not a possibility. You don’t fail, ever, and if you need to give pieces of yourself and mind in order to complete a mission, then you are ready to do it without flinching.

No, your thoughts were occupied by something else —; or someone else. Something that was more difficult to manage because there is no guide to follow. This person is Natasha, and the cause of your worries is the moment you shared last night because you have no explanation for what happened —; you thought she hated you, and that you hated her. Aren’t you both supposed to despise each other for the pain you’ve caused? Then why do some of you still yearn for her presence? Why didn’t she reject you and, instead, decided to take care of your mess? This even wasn’t meant to be. The redhead is the last person that should have witnessed you in such a vulnerable state, and yet she is the one you have sought attention from, the only one you needed last night —; and you hate that. You hate how your feelings are still the same even after so many years.

That is exactly why, the second the woman that is haunting your thoughts stepped in the room, you left it, pretending that you needed to get ready for the mission. There is no way that the way you walked out of the room, leaving your untouched breakfast behind you, didn’t bring questions to their minds but you were long gone before any of them could say something.

˚ 　 ⋆ ⁺ ₊ ✦ ⁺ ₊ 　 ˚ 　. ˚ . 　 ☁ . 　　. 　 ˚ 　⁺ ⁺ ✦ ₊　　 ☁ ˚　 . ⁺ ₊ ✧ ˚　 . 　 ˚　 ⁺ ₊

˚ . ⤳ MOODBOARD ⊱⋆⊰ MASTERLIST ⊱⋆⊰ TO SAY SOMETHING ✦ Part one. Part two. Part three. ⊱⋆⊰ the scars in our hearts.

. ☁ ˚ ⤳ TAG LIST — @cd-4848, @chocolatestrawberrykryptonite, @escapereality4music, @fxckmiup, @gemz5, @jusnough, @m0nsterqzzz, @marvelwomenarehot0, @mrsrushman, @riyaexee, @takeyaki, @taliiiaasteria.

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lcriedlastnight · 5 months ago

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Can you write something with Oscar where they hated each other during their childhood or teenage years, but they meet again during adulthood

hey anon! thank you so much for your request!

tw: fem!reader. swears, i feel it feels a little rushed but idk. not spell checked. lmk if you want me to add anything.

w/c: 1.9k

you and logan were the ‘duo’ during karting, f2 and f3. where ever you went, logan followed and vice versa. you both understanding each other on a different level than the others around you, just simply didn’t . others around you including: oscar piastri.

you knew fine well that oscar and logan got along well. at one point logan even told you that he thought of oscar as his best friend in racing. knowing all of this should’ve made you like him, but it didn’t. you didn’t know if it was the way he walked around the karting course, when you were children, like he owned the place or if it was the little niggle in the back of your mind that acknowledged how good of a racer he actually was and that just pissed you off even more, you didn’t know. all you knew is that he needed to be brought down a peg or two and you would happily be to one to do it forever, much to logan’s chagrin.

logan really wanted the both of you to get along but you couldn’t help yourself, especially when you were younger, you had to tell him exactly what you thought about him, any and every time he pissed you off.

sometimes you did feel bad about hating on the aussie, like the times where a race didn’t really go his way, but as soon as you would go over to commiserate him he’d shout at you and tell you to get out of his way. you stopped feeling bad about it after that.

this rivalry continued all the way through to when both boys made it to f1. maybe it even deepened further. any time the two of you bump into each other, the only words said (if any) were snarky comments and backhanded compliments. mainly from your end.

none of this stopped you from supporting one of your oldest friends though, any time you were able to you would join him in the williams paddock, usually the first one to run to him when the race ended bad for him.

the most recent time you had joined logan for a race weekend was australia. you had watched along during the free practise but afterwards logan seemed to be avoiding you. you had looked everywhere for him, wanting to do your usual ‘after free practise’ routine of dissing the rest of the drivers (especially oscar) and telling logan that he was the best driver on the grid.

you make your way through the paddock searching for him and you eventually find him in the mclaren motorhome, standing with none other than oscar piastri. you roll your eyes and walk up to the two of them but they’re both too deep in their conversation that they don’t hear you coming.

“you have to tell her, mate” oscar tells logan, brows furrowed. logan’s back is to you so you can’t see his reaction, but you do hear it.

“she’ll be crushed!” it comes out a breathy and high pitched.

“obviously she’ll be crushed but do you not think it’s better for her to hear it from you” oscar replies, his eyes gentle. it pisses you off. him saying all this as if he knows you and how you would feel about certain things. you decide to make your presence known.

“i think i trust logan’s opinion on whatever you two are talking about more than yours, piastri.” your voice is a little mean but there are hints of confusion and concern for logan.

logan spins in his spot to face you. his eyes are wide and his brows sit high on his forehead. “oh uh hi! we were just talking about… racing stuff?” logan’s mouth moves faster than you’ve ever seen before.

“racing stuff?” you repeat back, “are you asking me or telling me?”. it’s a half joke, half serious question. i give him a half smile but logan stands there, a little awkwardly.

i wait for a second before my smile falls again. “okay what? what is it?” you asked a little worried now. oscar stands behind him but you forget about him, getting worried about logan now.

“logan you better tell me right now or-” you start but he cuts you off.

“i’m not racing this weekend. alex’s crash fucked up his car and they’re giving mines to him for the rest of the weekend.” logan avoids your eyes, instead choosing to stare at the floor.

it takes a while for you to calm down afterwards. logan takes you somewhere more private than the mclaren motorhome where you let out your anger.

“why weren’t you going to tell me?” you ask him after you had calmed down.

“i didn’t want this to happen. i only really did it because oscar told me i should.” logan explained.

you sigh out. “well you can always tell me anything. we’ve been friends forever, logan. and i guess that was kinda nice of oscar to do that.” logan’s grin is too wide, it’s like he ignored the first part and just focused on the only nice thing you have ever said about oscar.

you roll your eyes and change the subject. “okay well i guess there’s no point in staying to watch the rest of the weekend.” logan gasps.

“well since you don’t want to stay with me, there might be a certain someone who asked for you to stay and watch.” his eyebrows wiggle teasingly. it annoys you to no end. you let him know by the long groan you let out.

that’s how you ended up watching qualifying from the mclaren garage. you were surprised oscar actually let you stay and watch in his garage, but all it took was a mere seconds conversation with logan and you were in.

although the previous qualifying had been a bit of a better result for the aussie he still practically skipped into the garage. the joys of doing well in the first part of your home race, you suspect.

“oh hey! i didn’t think you were actually gonna stay. i thought you and oscar hated each other?” lando asks after noticing you, kind of just standing there. you couldn’t be more thankful for his presence at that moment, feeling a little out of place in the papaya filled garage.

you give him a tight smile. “where did you get that from? we’re best friends.” your tone dripping with sarcasm. lando smirks with a half chuckle at your tone. before you could talk more, oscar comes up behind you.

“i knew i could get you to admit it one day.” he says to you. you can hear the happiness in his tone. this is the first time oscar has said something and it hasn’t made you want to rip his vocal cords from his throat.

“ha ha. aren’t you funny?”. lando rolls his eyes at your response before he stirs the pot.

“well i’ll leave you two to it. there’s too much tension here and it’s making the room a little stuffy.” he bounces out the garage, eager to catch up with his engineers.

you don’t know why but lando’s comment made the heat rush to your face. you hope oscar doesn’t notice. he probably does though. you are stuck on what to say and you don’t like just standing there staring at him because the more you look at him the more you like what you see, so you scramble your brain for something to say.

“thanks for telling logan to tell me about not driving this weekend.” is all you can come up with.

you can feel oscar’s confusion. “you’re welcome? is this your way of repaying me? by watching quali in my garage?” he asks. half joking.

“what no?” oscar laughs at your defensive tone.

“why are you here then?” he questions you. this then confuses you.

“logan said you wanted me to stay and watch?”.

oscar’s head dips down, eyes avoiding yours and hints of what you think is a faint blush on his cheeks.

“you didn’t want me to stay and watch?” you ask, feeling a little bold with your questions.

oscar is quick to correct you. “no i did. i said that to logan.”

“why did you even want me to stay? i thought you hated me?” you ask again, not getting tired of asking him all these questions. plus the blush made him look cute. cute for an ugly guy, you correct your own thoughts. the words that free you from spiralling confuse you more.

“i don’t hate you.”

what? he most certainly did hate you. you had year upon years of proof. possibly maybe even a decade worth of mean comments and dirty looks. what was he talking about?

your mouth opens and closes a few times as you try to find your words. “you.. you don’t hate me?”

oscar’s head is quick to shake.

“but what about all those times we argued? and all those horrible things you said to me?” you remind him. oscar acting like none of that ever happened was baffling you.

“don’t you remember how every single one of those arguments started?” he asks. it’s your turn to shake your head.

“i would always come over after races to talk to logan and of course you were there. i would go to ask logan about the race and you would interrupt me by saying something about ‘there being no need to rub my talent in his face’ or if logan had done better than me you would always say ‘he doesn’t talk to people who only want him when he’s a winner’. even if all i wanted was to let my frustrations out with my friend. you were mean too.” you’re stunned to silence.

you didn’t think anything you said to oscar was that mean. or even worth remembering. it wasn’t in your case, that’s how you can’t even remember saying any of it.

“oh” is all you can say.

“yeah, oh. even though you were horrible i still wanted to talk to you.” oscar admits, head held high, even though can see the way the confidence on his eyes falters a little.

you feel a wave of embarrassment wash over you at your actions. how could you ever hate someone who, even though they were being treated like shit, wanted to be friends to support their other friend?

“i’m sorry. that was so horrible of me. i honestly don’t know what else to say. i’m horrible.” you tell him. you wear your regret all over your face, clearly visible to oscar.

“you’re not.” oscar takes a step forward and hesitates for a second before he places a gentle hand on your shoulder. “you were just trying to protect you’re friend. you’re a good person. the only reason i wanted to keep talking to you was because i wanted you to defend me like that.”

the realisation hits you, you’re face softening even more. oscar liked you. maybe even still likes you.

“oh.”

oscar smiles a little. he’s spent years hearing every little detail about you from logan he feels like he knows you just as well as the american does.

“i’ve got to do some media stuff but why don’t we grab dinner or something afterwards?” oscar offers, you nod instantly, eager to know the boy as well as logan does.

“okay, yeah that sounds good.” you smile at the boy for maybe the first time ever.

oscar smiles back.

you hated being wrong but you didn’t mind being wrong about how nice oscar was.

#f1 imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar pastri fluff #oscar piastri angst #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri #op81 x you #op81 angst #op81 fic #op81 #op81 fluff #op81 imagine #op81 x reader #op81 x y/n #lcriedlastnight #lcriedlastnightrequests

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bettyfrommars · 1 year ago

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Might be too much in line with I'm on fire.. but what about classic a classic motorcycle riding drifter.. that is more than meets the eye... maybe more monster than man and that's why he drifts... idk if that's enough maybe he's drifted into small town USA and he meets reader at like a Truckstop/ Diner that's across from the one hotel in town and over days of her waiting on him (EDS) they strike something up... spicy.. if you will.. maybe he finds her delectable and she finds him mysterious & charming idk just spit ballin

The Drifter

missed connections

out on the highway

blurb 1 blurb 2

monster!drifter!Eddie x dinerWaitress!Reader

18+ONLY, smut, blood, oral (f receiving), mention of drug and alcohol addiction, mention of physical abuse by an ex, mention of PTSD, emotional trauma, 2 lost souls finding each other, a killing, monsterfuqqing, but it’s also a really sweet, fluffy story if that makes sense. wc: 4.2

A/N: I was so excited to get this ask! I had to really pull back on the length of this story because I could've kept writing it forever and will most likely bring back Eddie The Drifter again in some oneshots. I did a quick re-read, but sometimes I just need to post these before I obsess over them for too long.

(Also, when Eddie is thinking about how "damaged" they both are, that is his perception, not mine. I think they are both perfect.)

Eddie had been drifting for a while. He didn’t want to know anyone, and he didn’t want anyone to know him. He hadn't been the same since the physical and emotional trauma he’d suffered in The Upside Down. Steve took him by the arm once and told him he understood what he was going through—that they all understood—and that he wasn’t alone. Eddie knew Steve and the rest meant well, but they couldn’t understand, and he was convinced no one ever would. Trauma affects everyone differently and for Eddie, it started to turn him into his father, and that was what scared him more than anything. Dark and brooding with a short fuse, there was a beast living inside of him that had not been there before the ordeal with Vecna; or perhaps, it had just been sleeping.

He lost his temper with Dustin once, and at the time, he thought he was having a very normal reaction to the situation. It wasn’t until he recognized the fear in his younger friend’s eyes–the way he backed away from Eddie and put his hands up as if he needed to protect himself—that Eddie knew he had to go. After years of silent struggle and becoming a hermit more and more, he decided to hit the road.

He started out in his van, sleeping in it, getting odd jobs wherever he went, staying in town just long enough to make some money, and then he was in the wind again. He called Wayne from payphones and sent postcards back home to Hawkins once in a while, but not often. In his mind, they were better off without him.

The second year he was on the road, he ended up getting involved with a biker gang and doing some jobs for them that paid well but were on the wrong side of the law. Before the Upside Down, he’d been more of a lover than a fighter. Sure, he had to defend himself a few times, especially from his old man, and he never took shit from people without giving it back, but ever since he almost died, he’d acquired some type of superhuman strength. There was a transformation that happened in him now, fueled by the adrenaline of his rage, and in the past decade, he’d been paid to hurt more people than he could count. The problem was—he’d started to like it.

Eventually, he was able to trade in his van for a Harley FXS 80, and he carried most of his early possessions with him. He put the rest of what he owned in a storage unit in Oregon, and he’d planned to circle back there again one of these days to get it all when he decided to settle down—but years later, he was still on the road. He’d been using his bedroll to sleep out under the stars the past couple nights, but the clouds told him it was about to rain, and he decided he could use a shower and a real bed for the night.

Red River Junction was less than a dot on a map, a truck stop town with a place to eat, a place to sleep, and a place to pump your gas, set right plop in the middle of nowhere. You’d grown up in a town not too far down the highway, and you were still there, in the same trailer your mother left to you when she passed. You worked at both the Sundown Motel part-time, and at Margie’s Diner, and in your free time, you dreamed about leaving town and never coming back.

You heard the rumble of his motorcycle before you saw it; chrome pipes growling to a stop as the rider found a place for his bike in the lot. A motorcycle, or even an entire MC, pulling into the junction was nothing new. You were the only stop for gas and food for a good fifty miles.

You were staring for so long out the window as he dismounted and took his helmet off, that you overflowed the coffee cup you were refilling and the elderly customer scoffed at you. He had long, curly hair tied back in a ponytail and bangs that had grown out just long enough to tuck behind his ears. Black leather jacket, and leather chaps over his jeans. Your attention was immediately drawn to his jewelry: the small hoop piercing in his ear and the chunky rings across his knuckles. My Boyfriend’s Back by The Angels played softly from the jukebox while you made your way to the front to greet him. The kitchen was slammed with only Big Joe behind the grill, and Leslie was the only other waitress, but she was on a smoke break.

You fumbled the big plastic menu in your hand when he took his sunglasses off to nail you with those star-flecked eyes. “Just one for lunch?”

He tucked his sunglasses into the front of his shirt and looked around. “You still serving breakfast?”

“All day long,” you assured him. Seats at the counter were all full, so you offered him a booth, and he slid in without another word or glance in your direction, taking the menu from you with a grunt. You tried not to stare at his scars: the angry, purple one on his neck, and the deep white slash across his chin. His hands were also flecked with scar tissue from various fights, and punching through mirrors every time he hated his own reflection.

50 year old Leslie was tying her apron and chewing gum when you moved behind her to grab a cup and saucer for his coffee. “Another grumpy one,” you whispered over the sound of clinking silverware and scattered conversations.

Leslie raised her eyebrow a few times, resting her elbow on the counter. “Hell, he can get grumpy with me any day.”

Eddie didn’t say much while you waited on him, and you didn’t think he was paying any attention to you, but he saw the way you splashed a bit of vodka into your soda can behind the counter. He also caught the way you used that same liquid to toss back a couple pills you scooped out of your apron pocket just before you turned to grab some hot plates from the kitchen hatch. He didn’t judge you for it or think it was odd being that he’d spent the past ten years trying to find ways to dull his pain.

He thought you were too beautiful for this deadbeat town; too sweet, too kind. He noticed the bruise on your forearm and the vacancy in your eyes and he felt an instant kinship with you: the damaged recognizing the damaged.

When you came to clear his empty plate, he asked you if the Sundown Motel was a decent place to stay. It was the only motel for miles and he didn’t care how decent it was, he just wanted a reason to keep talking to you.

“Sure, it’s great,” you shrugged. “If you like bedbugs and carpets that look like a violent crime took place recently.”

He met your eyes, and there was a moment of levity there that lightened both of your spirits if only for that moment.

“I’m cool with bedbugs,” he brushed his tongue between his lips. “It gets lonely on the road, it’s nice to have some company.”

He told you his name was Eddie after he read yours off of your name tag, and when you came back from seating a table full of seniors who were on a bus tour to the casino, he was gone.

He left you a generous tip, though, and after hours of getting tipped in quarters and loose change, it felt good to have some solid cash in your pocket. His motorcycle was gone too, and you wondered if he’d decided to hit the road or stay the night.

You told yourself to forget about him, that he was just another drifter you’d never see again, but the evening had other plans for you.

You were supposed to have the night off from both jobs, but Susan at the front desk of the motel begged you to come down and work the check-in desk for an hour while she went to pick her kid up. You wished you could say you had some big plans, but that was absolutely not the case, and so you rolled your car up to the back lot behind the dumpsters and changed out of your orthopedic shoes and into something less drab.

You thought it would be an easy hour to space off and read a book, but ten minutes after you clocked in, two guests locked themselves out of their room. It was a two-tier motel, and as you made your way up the concrete steps with the husband and wife in question behind you, fumbling with the keys, you caught sight of Eddie a few rooms down, and your heart jumped into your throat.

He was sitting in the plastic chair in front of the door to his room, smoking a cigarette, stripped down to jeans and a wife-beater. His hair was still wet from his shower, hanging down his shoulders, showcasing the patchwork of scars that covered his flesh.

He didn’t make eye contact, but he saw you. In fact, he knew you were on your way a few minutes before that, because he heard your voice, and it made him stay and light another smoke. He flicked his ash and waited for you to let the couple into their room.

On your way back to the stairs, the soda and snack machine blocked your view, but once you rounded the corner, there he was again.

“Is your room satisfactory, sir?” You put the keys in your pocket and stood tall, pretending to act professional.

Eddie met your eyes then, staring up through his lashes, and one side of his mouth lifted in a smirk. “Disappointed I haven’t found any bedbugs.”

You coughed a laugh, swaying on your feet. “Give it time. They come out at dark.”

Eddie didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but he’d also learned never to miss an opportunity with how transient his life was. His attraction to you was not purely physical, which was a rare occurrence for him.

He shifted in his seat, a silky curl of gray smoke passing from his lips. “Are you free later tonight? Can I buy you dinner?”

Suddenly shy and baffled as to why he’d have any interest, you lowered your chin and shuffled your foot.

“I-I’ve got a boyfriend,” you cringed as you said it. Tony had cheated on you and left you more times than you could count. He took off a couple days ago after he knocked you around, and you had no idea where he was, but you continued to hold onto this strange sense of loyalty for him. Perhaps it was because you were convinced he was the best you could do.

“Did the tough guy do that to your arm?” Eddie asked in a low mumble, his eyes lingering on your bruises.

You covered the marks with your other hand, reflexively. “He’s been under a lot of stress lately,” you always felt like such an idiot when you defended that loser, but you didn’t know how to stop.

“Well,” Eddie smashed the butt in the ashtray by his chair and stood up to full height. One nipple under his white tank was hard, but the other one seemed to be missing. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

You were too stupefied to move, you just stood there holding your arm, waiting for him to go back into his room.

But Eddie paused in the doorway and turned to give you one last look. “You deserve a lot better, sweetheart. If he puts his hands on you while I’m around, I’ll fucking kill him.”

—------

You thought about Eddie’s words for the rest of your shift. When it was over, you drove the ten miles back to your trailer, took a shower, and found yourself driving back to the motel, as if your will was no longer your own.

“What are you even doing?” You hissed aloud to yourself as you parked behind the Sundown in your usual spot. It was dusk now and you accepted the possibility that he’d probably invited a different woman out to dinner by then, but any amount of reasoning couldn’t stop you. You checked the scene first, looking up from the main parking lot to catch the flicker of the tv in his room to let you know he was, indeed, still up there. His motorcycle was safe in its place, too, and you realized you hadn’t even prepared what to say. You were an anxious mess, but you were also hungry for him in a way that was foreign to you.

You hadn’t known much comfort or safety in your life, but you felt those things when you were around Eddie.

After standing at his door for a good 5 minutes, you finally found the courage to knock.

Eddie opened the door while your knuckles were still on the wood. His eyes looked you over, offering a buck of his chin in appreciation. “Well, well. You are a gorgeous bedbug.”

Your cheeks burned hot at the complement. “I had some free time, so I thought I’d just check and see how you were doing, if you have everything you need.”

Eddie braced his shoulder against the door jam, giving you a squint. “So, you came to check on me while you’re off the clock? Damn, that is good service.”

You flexed your hands, forcing a laugh, trying your best not to just turn around and run away.

“Are you hungry?” Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to come in? Cause we can —”

“I’m not hungry.” You answered, bolting inside of his room when he extended his arm as an invitation, before you lost your nerve.

“Neither am I,” Eddie agreed. But, he was craving something else.

He locked the deadbolt and made sure the curtains were closed.

—-----

There were very few words left to be spoken as your lips collided with his, meeting with equal levels of urgency. You kept trying to kiss him deep and desperate while your hand palmed him through his jeans, but he held you off a bit with soft pressure. He cupped your face and caressed your cheek with his thumb while he kissed you, giving individual attention to your top lip and then the bottom one. He kissed down your neck, flicking his tongue out every so often to taste you, making you gasp—you’d never been worshiped with someone's mouth before.

Breathing heavy, he started to unbutton your shirt. “Is this okay?” He asked, wondering how far you wanted to take it.

“Yes,” you gulped. “Please.”

Once you had his shirt off, you bent down to kiss and lick his scars—it was an unspoken act of acceptance that made Eddie’s cock twitch. You weren’t used to being cared for in bed, and Eddie could tell by the way you hurried to push your jeans down and bend over so he could take you from behind.

“Not like that,” he whispered, using strong arms to lower you to the bed while he shimmied your jeans off. He got on his knees and scooped up your hips, nudging your pussy through your underwear with his nose, and then he planted kisses across the wet spot and along your inner thigh. The animal inside of him loved your scent; he wanted to bury himself in it, and he couldn’t help the growl that escaped him.

You fell back on the bed and covered your face with one hand. “Wait, I’m—not many people have done that—I’m not sure how to—”

Eddie finger pulled your underwear to one side, exposing your slippery lips for his tongue to flick. “Do you want me to stop?”

You arched back at the sensation of his mouth on you. “No, no, please don’t stop,” you urged, putting your hand on his head to gently cup his ear, the one with the silver hoop.

He moved away just long enough to pull your underwear all the way down your legs and off, maintaining eye contact with you. He didn’t rush, he took his time, and kissed his way back up your legs to the prize.

The gentle and precise way he swirled his tongue on your clit had you stammering his name with a few curses in between. As his attention to your bundle of nerves built your arousal and it spilled down your slit, he dove his mouth down a few times to taste it and drink you, shivering at the pleasure it gave him. He couldn’t help it, he had to reach down to grab his cock so he could fist it while his mouth brought you closer. The taste of your hormones in your slick had pre-cum wetting his tip already.

Tony had only gone down on you a few times, and he never really seemed to enjoy it. But Eddie was one of those who could eat a peach for hours, as they say.

“Right…there…” you hushed, startled as you felt the wave of an orgasm rise. Eddie zeroed in on that spot with just the right pressure, fluttering his tongue as he sucked. His other hand milked his cock in long strokes, taming the beast from cumming too soon, moaning warm breath against your cunt.

“Eddie!” You cried out just as the release took you and wracked your body, like a spring popping out of a tight coil, unraveling. Eddie pressed his mouth closer to lap you up, feeling your body vibrate as he held your hip in place.

He only broke the seal made by his mouth once you were too sensitive, and your limbs dangled off the bed for a minute, unable to move.

It didn’t take long for you to start coaxing him up on top of you, spreading your legs out, begging for him to be closer. He met your kiss with deep, soul-searching need, and you whined at the sensation of his tip sliding up and down your slick. But, then he hesitated, and pulled up to meet your eyes.

“Inside of me,” you begged, nodding. “I need you inside of me.”

And yes, that was what Eddie wanted too, but now there was another problem.

Eddie’s ears pricked at the sound of footsteps outside the door. He sniffed the air, trying to identify the presence. He slid off of you and stood, watching the door while he pulled his jeans up and zipped his stiff, aching cock into place behind the denim.

Shuffling up onto your elbows, you were about to speak, to ask what was wrong, but Eddie silenced you with a finger to his lips. He tossed your jeans over and motioned over his shoulder for you to put them on in the bathroom.

There was something about the whole situation, and Eddie’s sudden silence, that unnerved you, and so you scampered off the bed as quietly as you could and did as he asked.

There were no lights on in the room, except for the infomercial on the mute TV, but the bright moon illuminated the walkway outside enough for him to catch sight of someone pacing out there.

Finally, there came a heavy knock and a voice.

It was Tony, and he shouted your name. “ARE YOU IN THERE? HUH? You fucking whore!”

You buttoned your jeans and all of the blood ran from your face. Eddie turned his head to look at you. The adrenaline of pure fear pumped through your body as you froze in place.

Eddie put his hand out, motioning for you to stay right where you were, behind him.

Tony pounded on the door again. “YOU CAN’T HIDE FROM ME! One of my guys said he saw you go in here with some fucking dude. IF YOU’RE FUCKING SOMEONE ELSE I’LL KILL YOU, you goddamn bitch!”

By “one of his guys” Tony meant one of the other drug dealers in town, who were generally crawling all over the motel, leeching off of the clientele. Eddie looked deceptively calm as he stood at the end of the bed, breathing slow, and you walked over to grab his arm, to warn him that Tony was a crazy motherfucker, and you’d just go with him so Eddie wouldn’t get hurt.

But Eddie motioned for you to hide, so you did.

“Hold up, man,” Eddie was moving now, heading to undo the deadbolt and you cringed, pushing back as tight as you could between the wall and the bathroom door.

Once the door was unlocked, Tony stood there heaving, looking Eddie up and down. Tony was big in a stocky way, but not big like Eddie, and he enjoyed that flash of fear that lit over his adversary’s eyes at first glance. Sure, the guy had some obvious prison ink, but that didn’t mean shit to Eddie.

“Where is she?” Tony demanded, pushing in.

“Where’s who, man?” Eddie was being so casual about it, and you were trying not to scream.

Eddie shut the door and quietly locked it behind him

Tony’s eyes darted around the room, and then he spun on his heel; his eyes were pinned and doped-out. “Don’t act dumb, man. My fucking girl. Someone said they saw her come up here.”

Tony walked up to Eddie and started poking him in the chest. “Tell me where that fucking whore is before I make you my bitch.”

Nothing could have prepared you for what happened next—for the transformation and the carnage. You witnessed it all through the crack in the bathroom door as if you were watching a horror movie.

Eddie changed, in an instant; the muscles in his shoulders and arms bulged, the teeth in his mouth turned jagged and sharp, and his eyes went completely black. His massive, clawed hand wrapped around Tony’s throat, lifting him up so that his feet no longer touched the ground.

You muffle a scream with your hand, watching Tony gargle and spit, his limbs flailing.

Eddie’s lips stretched to speak around his fangs. “She’s not your girl anymore,” he growled.

Eddie strangled Tony with one hand until he lost consciousness, and then he threw him to the bed like a rag doll, pouncing on top of him. He proceeded to rip his throat open with his teeth; blood squirted on the wall and across the door where you were hiding, misting you in the face.

When he was finished, you made your way out of the bathroom.

Eddie was still a monster as he got off the bed at the sight of your approach. His clawed hands twitched at his sides, his hair dripped with blood, and his skin from nose to chest was bathed in crimson. His black eyes assessed you, waiting for you to scream or try to run—-but you didn’t.

You got close enough to touch him, to run your hand up his chest to feel the blood between your fingers, and then brush some bloody hair behind his ear.

Eddie frowned, wondering why you weren’t afraid of him, wondering why your desire for him didn’t seem to falter.

You parted your lips, watching the red drool drip from his teeth. “Are you okay?"

Your mouths found each other again, tasting the tang of your own blood as one of his fangs pricked your lip. You each did frantic work of unzipping each other’s jeans as Eddie scooped you up to lay you on the floor.

While the last few pumps of blood shot from Tony’s artery, monster Eddie spilled his seed inside of you, throwing his head back with a howl.

Now, there really had been a crime committed in that room, and Eddie would need to be on the road again, gone by daylight.

Maybe this time, you’d be going with him.

#Eddie Munson #Eddie munson fic #Eddie munson monster #monster!Eddie #drifter!Eddie #requests #biker!Eddie #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x reader #diner au #truckstop au

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boywithpinkcarnation · 1 year ago

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tbh kinda wanting some jealous!jb like if someone is filtering w her gf OR ESPECIALLY IF IT WAS A ANOTHER GIRL AHH THE DRAMA 🕳️🕳️

alrighty... i am in no way a writer, so this is. going to be bullet point, blurb, word vomit, unedited chaos. additionally, this is gonna be so incredibly self indulgent and catered to me so i hope it suffices for u bug 💝

frankly posting this is very scary for a little tumblr baby like myself, but i feel a need to serve my community 🫡

they style of writing and tbh most headcannons/lore is coming straight from @gingerjolover their blog is lowkey bible and they are the sweetest pookie pie ever. luv u g fr <3 like seriously i recommend you go just read through their masterlist bc this will not compare (not trying to fish here, just being very real as someone who is a like fein for fics as a source of comfort, i fear this will not fully suffice)

rpf content under the cut (no hate if that's not ur jam, just ignore me!), minors dni!!!

refering to jb's parter in this as "gf" and sense i am a selfish selfish girl in this scenerio she is roughly jb's height/a little shorter bc i am and theres no shorter than julien rep ANYWHERE

personally, i see julien as lowkey so possessive in a cutie non toxic way... and sometimes that manifests in some cutie jeleousy that gf can not get enough of. i think it obviously would come out in like flirty enviornments like bars and parties where people are loosey goosey... but sometimes it's just like and about on a normal date. here's a little thought i cooked up for like a more domestic environment jealousy:

aquairum date

the date starts out very normal, classic boyfriend!julien activities are happening

she's making sure y'all are touching at all times. like she'll die if you guys are not physically connected

i'm talking arm around your shoulder, iron grip within intertwined hands, hand in ur jean pocket 16 candles style, hand on the small of your back,,,, but i think eventually (and her favorite, albeit a little awkward) she's hugging you from behind as you walk, almost hanging on you, head perfectly slotted on your shoulder kissing your head and neck at every stop to look at the pretty fish

"jay! look at this one" "real pretty princess" *kisses your head* (its over i can'tttt)

then maybe she leaves you to go get you like a bottle of water or a jacket from the car (idk something to make you more comfortable, very "can't have my baby thirsty/cold" vibes)

then of course, you are looking so cute and so gay, a girl approaches you

you are very focused on the fish bc they are truly just so pretty (can you tell i love fish?) and only look up when mystery girl nudges you

"omg i'm so sorry" "oh uh, you're good" "sorry, i have a bit of a habit for running into pretty girls"

and your're kinda caught off guard bc like... this is an aquarium??

"haha um thank you" "so what are you doing here all alone"

mystery girl is sooo fuck boy coded just go with it

"well um my girlfr-"

julien is back behind you, re koala latching twisting open the water bottle for you and handing it to you, GLARING at this girl

"sorry it took me a second princess, who's this?"

then her grip tightens pulling you even closer to her chest

mystery girl, bless her heart, replies "we just bumped into each other. i was just letting her know how beautiful she was"

oh jb did not like that

she reaches over grabs your jaw tilting your head to the side and back to look at her

"she is beautiful. my sweet girl" and kisses you DEEPLY

and ur blushing because you know jealous/protective/possesive!julien is in the room with us now and kind of giggle out of the kiss

"well then... i should be going, sorry again for running into you"

instead of letting you respond or responding herself jb keeps your face turned and starts kissing all over ur face as you giggle letting mystery girl to just shuffle away.

for the rest of the date she is SO overly affectionate

squeezing ur hips

keeping you so close

kissing your cheek and neck as you tell her about all the fish and animals

"really baby? that's so cool" "my little biologist" "ooo princess what about these?"

it's times like these julien wishes she wore lipstick to leave a mark on your face so everyone knows

she's probably taking you to the gift shop and buying you some random thing for fun because when she's jealous she doesn't take it out on you, she's secure with you and knows you aren't doing anything but being your pretty self

in fact it just makes her softer and more affectionate

when you finally let her drag you out she had you against the car kissing you lovingly and deeply and sets her forehead against yours

"i just love you so much. my sweet girl. my priincess"

"all yours j."

note from c: i hope this is at least semi ok? literally no editing or even proof reading, just love sick delusion.

#i am so in love with her #julien baker x reader #julien baker fanfic #julien baker x fem!reader #boygenius fanfic #boy with the pink carnation writes!

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patheticpeoplesupreme · 3 months ago

Text

I have an au in my head and I have to write it down but like it’s super inconsistent sometimes

What if some great heavenly deity take Shang Qinghua’s soul as punishment for messing with the story _and_ losing all his points. Clearly Shang Qinghua’s not afraid of dying anymore so the system takes on a different punishment

They would’ve taken Cucumber bro’s soul too but Shang Qinghua used his writer skills and convinced them not to and he tries to defy the heavenly being

Being all like

“THIS WORLD IS MY CREATION!” He screamed from his cell, feeling all of the sensation in his body burning into a blaze, golden liquid falling from his fingers

But the heavenly being just scoffed uncaringly, “you have interfered with the natural rules of the world.”

“I—I didn’t choose to be born here, I didn’t choose to take this role!”

“You’ve de—((what’s that one word I swear it started with “de”

defected maybe??

Defected against the system?

Defended

De….. de something

Betrayed the system?

idk I’ll figure it out))

“I’m just a human.” He pleaded desperately.

“divinity flows through your veins, you can’t lie to me, rat.”

—

Just thought it was funny to think about SQH getting fucked over by the system/gods

I like to think airplane was one of the lesser deities

Airplane was a normal human on Earth, an author in his original world, but when he died, all that was left was his passion for his novel, all the love for it that was left unheard, unseen, from all the outlines, the drafts, all the pain, all the happiness and desire, it formed into a lesser deity

The soul didn’t have a consciousness at first, but the divinity attached itself to the soul when it settled through many deities. Eventually, the soul took baby sqh as his vessel and airplane began to remember his past life.

Bingge (?) I think, would be in a similar timeline, except Airplane never managed to gain a consciousness so he turned into a tree, mourning the world’s bad ending.

(I don’t actually know how transmigration works)

And about Cucumber bro,,, he’s the same, his hatred, as an opposite of Airplane’s passion, allowed his desire and memories to form into a soul with divinity, only, it’s a different type of divinity from Airplane. Because Airplane creates

And Cucumber bro changes

Maybe->

If their divine souls were to ever be revealed, airplane and cucumber remind me of the three sisters in Greek myth but slightly different

Clotho (Airplane) spun the “thread” of human fate, Lachesis dispensed it, (system) and Atropos cut the thread (Cucumber bro)( but instead of death, bro creates changes) thus determining the individual's moment of death)

Or Airplane could just be a god

**I put regrets down because Airplane died full of regrets, from the loneliness of having a broken family, from not being able to follow his true stories and stuff

**God of Forgiveness because Airplane wants to give everyone a chance to be happy, something that couldn’t happen to Shen Jiu or Yqy

As a god of forgiveness, he would’ve asked them what ailed them and helped them heal naturally (of course they didn’t deserve to be forgiven, they wouldn’t be forgiven and airplane wouldn’t give them a second glance)

Feel free to leave anymore possibilities in the comments or anon asks haha

#svsss au #svsss fanfiction #svsss #shang qinghua #I never noticed how it just feels like the bible good lord #god au

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ariundercovers · 1 year ago

Text

Choke on It - Dark!Joel Miller x Reader

Pairing: Dark!Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: (AFAB reader) takes place post-TLOU. They’re both members of the Jackson community, often put on patrols together. Reader has a penchant for destruction and rage, especially in the face of self-preservation. Sometimes, they just want to be able to let go.

Word Count: ~2.8k

Warnings: explicit 18+ graphic depictions of sex and violence. dubcon, choking, breath play, degradation, skull fucking, spitting, forced blowjobs, idk. It’s dark. Kinda a hate fuck? They like each other tho. Semi-established/FWB situation.

a/n: PLEASE HEED WARNINGS. Joel is not a nice man. Y’all, its dark again. Please heed the warnings. Maybe this is where I live now. (No, I don’t – I’ll never get enough of writing fluffy Din fics.) Not a lot of plot. Mostly porn. At least partial credit for this one goes to @ezras--moon! We had a blast working on a VERY similar scene with two other characters, and I woke up this morning with thots, so I needed it to be full-length.

Enjoy, you filthy animals.

This fucking woman.

She was one of the most vicious and notorious members of the patrol in Jackson: the first one they sent out when there were murmurings of a group of raiders, or big trouble past the walls. And he was fucking infatuated by her – always had been. From the day he met her – all grumpy eyes and deep mistrust – something in him always drew him to her.

He looked over at her on the horse just a few meters beside him, sunset framing the shape of her face from behind. It could’ve been one of those super expensive pictures in a museum, he thought. A fucking Michelangelo, or a Bernini, or whoever those old famous artists were that they learned about in high school. Hadn’t thought about them in at least two or three decades, probably wouldn’t think about them again.

The two of them were peas in a pod, really. They ran on the same wavelength – self-preservation, protecting the ones they held close, and a total lack of trust for anyone outside of their inner circle. Joel was all too happy to lean into it, lean into whatever this was with her, especially now with the way that Ellie looked at him like she hated him – his last lifeline connecting him to something more human, severed. She was the last thing for him to grapple onto that gave him any sense of human connection outside of his brother. He took every patrol he could with her, every task in Jackson that would allow him to work near her, with her, in earshot of her, in view of her.

He was a goner, really. That stupid little perfect ass of hers, the way her lips puckered when she spoke. The curve of her breast, the way the scars littered her stupid, perfect face. The devious look in her eye when they went on patrol, when she got herself in trouble – and then, of course, the way she killed things: infected, clickers, raiders, without even the slightest hesitation. The way she shot her rifle without batting an eyelash, sunk a dagger into her enemy’s eye socket without a second thought. The way she let herself just kill, with reckless abandon.

Oh, and kill, she did.

There’s a glint in her eyes that he catches sometimes – it’s fierce, brutal, kind of like the fire he can watch travel under her skin at the smallest hint of danger ahead. It’s like watching lightning strike a tree – explosive, frightening. It all plays a part in why Joel just couldn’t keep her out of his mind. Her presence was all-consuming to him in a way that he couldn’t manage to slip out of. He was bound up in her talons like a falcon’s prey.

It’s her voice – not Joel’s - that eventually fractures the silence between them as they move along their scheduled patrol route.

“Sun’s almost down, we should set up camp for the night. I’ll take first watch, you get some rest.”

He glanced over at her, intrigued. Even the way she commanded things to him – something he wouldn’t take for a second from anyone else – thrilled him. A spark shot down between his legs as he thought about taking that from her, shutting her up and making her follow his own rules, instead.

Their camp for the night is just an outcropping of stone with a few closely spaced trees – they’ve used it before. It’s a small fire and a couple sleeping bags and a flask of Tommy’s shitty home-grown alcohol, held tight to his chest. It’s the silhouette of her damn gorgeous body on display for him, lit up by the flames, just for his viewing pleasure. “I know you’re awake, Joel. Stop staring and go the fuck to sleep.”

How could he possibly sleep? He was too busy thinking up all the ways he could touch her and disassemble her right now.

“Can’t just do that, darlin’.” His voice is gravelly when it comes out, partially due to lack of sleep and partially due to the arousal he’s been trying to fend off since they started their patrol this morning.

“Yeah, you can, Joel. Shut the hell up and close your fuckin’ eyes.” The eye roll she gives him is magnificent – makes him suppress a chuckle in the back of his throat. He sits up, glaring at her, and he slides sideways out of his sleeping bag.

“Now why the fuck would I do that, sweetheart, when you’re jus’ sittin’ there lookin’ good enough to eat? When I could be using that perky little body of yours for whatever I wanted?” His words are laced with something salty-spicy-sweet, cutting her deep while he praises her, catching her off guard.

She blinks back at him a few times, taken aback by his forwardness. He’d never been this direct before – she always had to coax it out of him, convince him it was a good idea, that they should let off some steam with each other every once in a while.

It was threatening. And thrilling.

He stands, slowly, and his movements are labored now that those joint just don’t work the way they used to anymore, but his eyes are back on hers in an instant, glaring daggers right into her soul. She’s sitting on a downed tree a few feet from the fire, and as he stalks his way around it to breech her personal space, she can’t help but recognize the gushing feeling between her legs. This was a different Joel than the one that usually came on patrols with her – a kind of Joel that she always thought he had in him, but he’d never let himself show.

“Yeah, Joel? Not sure you have it in you to make that happen.” She doesn’t move from her spot, perched on the edge of the log with a rifle strewn across her lap. Her eyes stay trained on his, not backing down even an inch, and her body stays relaxed, calculated – unafraid. The taunt is deliberate, teasing the waters of whatever this version of Joel was willing to put up with.

The toes of Joel’s boots click against her own and he crouches down in front of her, eyes still trained on one another with snipers’ gazes.

“That a challenge? I don’t think you wanna challenge me right now, darlin’. I’m feelin’ all kinds of ways about that mouth ‘a yours.” Her eyes narrow at him and she stands, slowly, dropping the rifle into one hand.

“Real cocky for a half-deaf almost senior citizen with two bad knees and a fuckin’ savior complex.” His hand jolts out before his brain has a chance to choose otherwise, wrapping around her neck instantaneously and squeezing – not enough to completely cut off her air supply, but enough to make her feel it. Her hand that’s not on the rifle comes up to claw at his forearm.

“Fuckin’ watch it, sweetheart. I am not in the mood.”

She blinks back at him and smirks, still cocky even with the hand wrapped around her throat starting to squeeze tighter with each passing moment. “Do your fucking worst, Joel. You. Don’t. Scare. Me.”

The chuckle that comes out of his throat is dark – maybe even sinister. His eyes narrow at her and he inches himself closer until their noses are almost touching.

“My worst, sweetheart? You’re gonna regret that. Almost feel sorry for your fuckin’ throat.” He uses his grip on her neck to push her down, dropping her hard onto her knees as she looks up at him with hooded lids. Releasing her throat, he runs his hand through her hair before fisting it in the locks tied up at the crown of her head. He uses the leverage to yank her head backward at an uncomfortable angle that throws her off balance – she’d fall right over if he let go right now.

A wicked smirk comes over his face as he reaches down with his free hand and unbuckles his belt, then his pants, pulling out his already hard, leaking cock. Her eyes widen just slightly, always a bit shocked by the size of it, and he uses the grip in her hair to inch her mouth closer to the tip.

“Open your fuckin’ mouth, sweetheart. Couldn’t keep it closed a minute ago.” He pushes the tip just past her lips and she lets her jaw drop, taking him in as his width stretches the muscles in her jaw.

He’s not kind about it – he slams her head down onto his cock so hard she’s sputtering and gagging at the bottom end, no chance to adjust to his size. The hair in his hand becomes the reins he uses to rock himself into her at a violent pace. Her hands instinctively rest at his thighs, nails biting into the jean-clad flesh as she gags and chokes at every thrust. He pulls her off him and watches as her saliva remains in strands – connecting her to him even while she isn’t touching, running down her chin like she just bathed in it. Her breath comes out in pants, trying to catch it before he makes his next move.

This was what he was aching for, he just didn’t know it until he had it in his hands. Needed to see her this fucking wrecked because of him, messy and broken. He’d break her more tonight – this was just a crack in the outer shell. Letting out a quick puff of air, his smile is sinister when he offers her his next command.

“Deep fuckin’ breath, darlin’.”

He watched her take a few short breaths and then a particularly large one. At the top end of it, when he could see that her chest cavity was full, he forced her mouth back down onto him as far as she can go, holding it tight to his pelvis so she couldn’t move.

“20 seconds, now.”

The nickname sears her as she blinks back the salty tears that start to fall without her permission. Her nose is buried in his pubic hair and the cock in her throat is so deep she can’t swallow, can’t even gag, really, and definitely can’t breathe. She has no other choice but to hold her breath while she’s locked onto his cock like this. Her grip on his thighs increases as the tears in her eyes start streaming more steadily.

And then, finally, he starts counting.

“1… 2… 3…” His grip on her hair is legitimately bruising – skin stretched over her skull to the point of pain. It’s like he’s ripping the back of her skull off while simultaneously pushing her down and it makes the gears spin in her brain faster than she can process them.

“6… 7… 8…” She looks up to him and his eyes are locked on hers. If she could form a coherent thought in her brain right now beyond breathe, breathe, breathe, she’d realize he was watching her closely – the way she flinches, how her throat spasms around him, the twitching of her body as she struggled for oxygen he so expertly deprived her of.

“12… 13… 14…” He’s not rocking his hips into her mouth, luckily – at least not yet. He’s just holding steady, actively pushing in with his hips and his hand in such a way that it made it impossible for her to get any semblance of relief.

“18… 19… 20.” He yanks her head back from his cock and she sputters around him, gagging as he finally pulls himself from her throat. Her muscles spasm and contract from the abuse, breath shaky and panicked. Coughing, her lungs burn as they fill back up with air, and she’s not sure what’s saliva and what’s saline tears on her face anymore.

“Another one, darlin’. Breathe.” Joel watches closely while the muscles of her neck expand and contract, waiting to see that big breath he needed her to take. At the peak of it, he pulled her hard onto his cock again, burying her nose into his pelvis bone, even a fraction deeper this time, and starts to count.

“1… 2… 3…” She was just so damn pretty with so many tears rolling down her face - eyelashes clumped together, face a shiny mess of bodily fluids. He watched the way her eyes were getting redder as the tears came more freely this second round, enraptured by the way they turned bloodshot, illuminated by the warm glow of the campfire.

It was just so lovely.

“9… 10… 11… 12…” This time, he started rocking his hips now, pushing a bit deeper where he could. Strategically, he thrusted only about an inch at a time – still deep enough to cut off her airway completely but giving him the satisfaction of fucking into her throat at the same time.

“18… 19… 20.” In truth? This was like watching a star explode around his cock - this usually powerful, dominant, no-fucks-to-give woman with a penchant for violence and decimation everywhere she went reduced to rubble in his hands, putty on his cock. He ripped her head back off of him once more and groaned at the way she sputtered out immediately, coughing as tendrils of saliva broken splashed back and forth onto his dick from her mouth, chin, and neck.

“Breathe, darlin’. So fucking beautiful for me. You’re such a fuckin’ whore, so wrecked on this cock.” She caught her breath, a panicked look in her bloodshot eyes as she met his again, holding a hand to her throat. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, ‘m not gonna make you do that again.” He squeezed her jaw tight in one hand, letting go of her hair with the other. Fingers dug into her cheeks, he could feel her teeth through the thick flesh as he pinched her cheeks together, as her hands scrambled up to cling to his wrist, pleading for him to stop, to keep going, to move faster, for something. She didn’t even know what.

“You did alright. Gonna make you count to 30 for me next time, though.” He steps up toward her and spits on her face, her eyes and mouth wide open as his saliva makes contact and mixes with her own. He rubs it in roughly with his free hand and pushes her away. Off balance, she falls back onto her heels, and she turns over onto her hands and knees as she continues to heave and cough, spitting on the ground below. He crouches over her again, his chest now inches frond her back, and he whispers darkly.

“Gonna fuck you like the whore you are, now.”

A shaky breath catches in her throat as she composes herself before lifting her head and turning it back to him, meeting his eyes while still trying to heave breaths back into her lungs. She smiles wickedly, teeth bared. That glint is in her eye that gets him every time.

“Do your fuckin’ worst, Joel."

#joel miller fic #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x reader #dubcon #writing #dark!joel miller #joel miller smut #pedro pascal smut #the last of us fanfiction #no beta we die like men

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akutasoda · 1 year ago

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Hi. I love your blog and the way you write so I thought I should request. Could you please write scenarios with Atsushi, Akutagawa, Ranpo, kunikida and mushitaro? Reader and character “hate” each other(like enemies or rivals to lovers) and frequently argue over anything because “they just can’t stand each other” (but it’s actually so they can talk to each other cuz they’re too prideful to confess) but later either reader or character end up confessing? (All separate of course) reader is female or gender neutral you can pick.

In Atsushi’s scenario reader is part of the guild or port mafia and fought against atsushi at one point and is mean to him and that’s why they hate each other but reader ends up liking atsushi and tries to be nicer to him and they make a truce and then atsushi likes reader.

In Akutagawa’s scenario reader is part of the agency and akutagawa hates reader and tried attacking them but dazai told akutagawa not to and that’s how they end up getting close cuz they can’t fight anymore but it’s hard to confess cuz reader is too prideful and akutagawa doesn’t know how to confess and thinks reader still doesn’t like him romantically

In ranpo’s it’s a pride thing because reader is another super smart detective (obviously not as smart as Ranpo but smart enough to challenge ranpo’s ability) so her deductions often clash with ranpo’s and they somehow both end up being right? Ranpo loves how smart reader is but because he’s so prideful he thinks he’ll never confess but ends up doing it anyway

Mushitaro: another prideful thing, I’m not sure what to come up with in this one, maybe mushitaro and reader are competing on looks? Mushitaro is very vain I think, so they’re like “I look better and attract way more women than you” and then they’re both like bro you do look attractive😳idk

Kunikida: hates how reckless and sarcastic reader is and reader is nothing like his ideal woman but ends up falling so hard for her

so sorry if this is too long of a request you can cut out mushitaro’s and kunikida’s part if it’s too long and you don’t wanna do them. Have a great day and stay hydrated!❤️

i can't believe you sometimes

synopsis - if you two hate each other so much why do you still hang around the other?

includes - atsushi, kunikida, ranpo, akutagawa, mushitaro

warnings - reader's gender is stated in each section, fluff, enemies to lovers, wc - 1.4k

a/n: ty! i hope you too have a great day and stay hydrated :)

atsushi nakajima ★↷

- gn!reader is a guild member

when you had first been told that you would be heading to japan you weren't particularly happy. sure you understand that it was buisnees or whatever it just seemed unnecessary for all of you to go. but the plus side of that was that lucy was going with you.

lucy was one of the only people you could stand in the guild and a genuine friend. not too long after the guild had ended up in yokohama you had ended up against one of the agency members, you think his name was atsushi not that it mattered that much.

the fight was cut short as your attention was needed elsewhere so you simply bid the weretiger farewell and left abruptly. it seems if you were to re encounter the weretiger you wouldn't mind finishing the fight.

however it was under quite different circumstances. after the guild's less than desirable defeat, lucy had informed you that she was offered a job at a café by the agency and that she requested for you to have the same option. and in honesty you weren't too happy in the guild do you took it as it also meant you could still keep in frequent contact with her.

this was where you yet againmet with atsushi. if it wasn't your job to serve him you sure as hell would of not given him his order. which is when your little rivalry continued. and for some time at that. until eventually you started realising from how he talked with his fellow colleagues that he seemed to be a genuinely nice person.

maybe he deserved a second chance. and atsushi noticed you slight change in behaviour and soon realised not long after that you weren't too bad yourself and eventually a truce wad formed. only for the benefit of having to see each other often. nothing else.. right?

maybe you weren't that bad and maybe you were slightly intresting to him. this truce seemed to bring about a new found intrest in not only becoming friends but something more. but neither of you could bring yourselves to actually confess your feelings but one day maybe one of you would build up the confidence.

doppo kunikida ★↷

- fem!reader is a agency member

sometimes he thinks that there could be no-one worse than dazai during work. that was until you joined shortly after. it was like his perfectly crafted hell. you had passed the entrance exam flawlessly, your skill was admirable he would admit but your sarcasm and reckless behaviour really made his opinion on you dwindle.

he often found himself trying to lecture you on your behaviour but you simply didn't listen. he just wished that you toned down a bit a work. eventually you had decided to give him some lecturing, more like teasing. you, like dazai, found some entertainment in teasing the man with thousands of ideals.

this just made him hate you even more, not that you cared. you found his expressions quite cute it made ot all worth it. and eventually kunikida started feeling a weird sensation whenever he talked to you.

he ignored them for the most part, i mean you barely ticked any of his ideals for a woman so it couldn't be a crush of some sorts right? but if not, why did he sometimes blush when he watched you do something stupid or simply from seeing you?

eventually he started to realise that he did infact hold a small crush for you. and when he realised he fell even harder. maybe he should start by getting closer to you afterall maybe he wouldn't mind becoming closer to you affter all. they do say opposites attract.

ranpo edogawa ★↷

- gn!reader is a agency member

never in his entire career among the agency would he of considered someone that could actually compete with him on the same level. sure dazai had came close some times but when you came into the picture it came as a very big surprise.

somehow, in ways that baffled him, you were able to challenge his abilities as a detective. he still took pride in the fact that he was still actually smarter but this was the first time someone came to the same or similar conclusions to his and be correct. and not only did he see it as a rivalry but he saw you as someone worth talking to.

not only were you nearly as smart as him but you two had similar interests. it often became a competition between you two within case's to see who could reach the conclusion first and sometimes he would just to find out that you discovered more details that he missed.

but somewhere along the line he started feeling something more for you. everytime you rebutted against his deduction to add one of your own he couldn't help but smile and blush ever so slightly.

but his pride got the better of him. he was still the best detective, if he wanted to be with you he could wait until you confessed to him. that was if you liked him back. but eventually he realised you knew and were leading him on, waiting for him to admit it. and so he did.

ryunosuke akutagawa ★↷

- gn!reader is a agency member

he didn't really care who you were at first. just another agency member that he would eventually have to deal with. that was until you two did end up in a fight while you were out on a different mission and had ended up crossing paths with him.

seeing as this wasn't part of your mission you just wanted to defend yourself long enough to escape or until your coworker returned. you didn't know what his problem was with you as you never have encountered him before but he just seemed to really want you dead. maybe it's just because you were an agency member.

whatever the reason, not too long after your coworker showed up and stopped the fight. just akutagawa's luck for your coworker to be dazai. and of course dazai had simply teased him about being so eager to fight someone and made you two sign a truce to not fight as maybe you two would get along. you wanted to punch him.

and so everytime you ran into each other all you could do was glare at each other and ignore the other. he couldn't disregard what dazai had told him to do. but eventually you seemed to be put on missions that collided with seeing akutagawa. you were starting to think this was on purpose.

akutagawa however had started feeling something that his sister had told him was a crush. but what does he do now? gin had told him that normally crushes would confess to each other but what if you didn't like him back? even if he did how would he confess. he'd rather save himself the embarrassment.

but little did he know you had realised yourself that you had started feeling things aswell. but a slight flaw of yours was that you were quite prideful. you didn't want to be the one to confess and be rejected. maybe dazai would have to give a final push.

mushitaro oguri ★↷

- gn!reader is a friend of yokomizo

he quite simply found you annoying to be around. the only reason he actually still hung around you was because you too were a dear friend of yokomizo. and if he held you in high regard he guess he had to tolerate you.

he simply couldn't stand how you actually could stand up to him and be somewhat nearly better than him. nearly. like what do you mean you had a better ability than him? no one could compete with him but you somehow insisted you could. he had tried to ask yokomizo what he saw in you as a friend but he just laughed at him and told him that maybe if he got to know you he would find out.

and with a slight heavy heart he took his friends words to heart and tried to talk to you to understand what made yokomizo want to be friends with you. what he didn't know was that it would leave him with the desire to be more than friends.

but for know all you two could argue about was either looks or abilities. more specifically looks as you both threw petty comments at each other he started realising that maybe you weren't that bad looking and if maybe you weren't so harsh to him you would be quite nice to be around.

and maybe to you, he wasn't that bad looking. if you looked past that stuck up attitude and got to know the real him maybe just maybe he might be quite the nice boyfriend. maybe you two would be a perfect match.

#x gender neutral reader #x reader #bsd x reader #bsd x gender neutral reader #bsd x female reader #bsd atsushi #atsushi x reader #bsd kunikida #kunikida x reader #bsd ranpo #ranpo x reader #bsd akutagawa #akutagawa x reader #bsd mushitaro #mushitaro x reader

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lightlycareless · 10 months ago

Note

Since Naoya dyes his hair, do you think his kids would have some sort of confusion(when they’re of a younger age Ofc) when others around them would say they have their daddy’s hair or do you think maybe for a period of time he’d stop dyeing his hair to match with his kids lol. Idk this is a silly thought 🙈

ahahhHHAHAHAH yessssssss This just gave me all sorts of ideas of how to embarrass Naoya as a dad lmao!! It's you know, mandatory. We've all felt that way once in our life!!

But let's start with one thing first 🤭

I want to say that he’ll grow out of it, but honestly, I don’t think so; that man was 27 and he still dyed his hair lol.

But moving on…

At first, yes. They’re going to be a bit confused as to why his dad has this bright yellow color on his hair, when everyone else’s is dark. But once they surpass that confusion, in true innocent nature, they’re going to be nothing but intrigued by it—and hey! Maybe they’ll say “wow, I want my hair like that too!”

Also, they grew up seeing Gojo, and sometimes Nanami (NOW I WANT TO WRITE HIM MEETING NAOMI someone coerce ME QUICKLY) so unusual hair colors don’t surprise them anymore lol.

But as always, when your children begin to grow aware of their surroundings, start questioning things… is when “issues” with Naoya arise.

In other words, the infamous “second-hand embarrassment” towards their parents.

Now, it’s happening for both you and Naoya no matter what you try to do to avoid it. But as of right now, it’s more onto him because he’s the most obvious out of the two.

I mean, the piercings… the hair—it’s screaming “please drop me off two blocks away from the school entrance so my friends won’t make fun of me.”

What they once thought cool, now they can’t stand the sight of it 😂 and it really, really upsets Naoya.

“Why do you paint your hair, dad…?” Naomi would ask one day, dying to do so for like… years now.

“Because I like it.” Naoya responds. “…why do you ask?”

She twists her lips, as if skeptical of his answer, before shrugging and leaving. He’ll tell you about this interaction later that day, but you don’t have the heart to tell him that Naomi once confided in you that she thought it was a bit… weird, mostly since it’s obvious yellow is not his natural color.

Yet, no matter how much you tried, he still gets to hear about it from someone on the staff and boy, does it finally break his heart.

“You don’t like it?” he asks Naomi one day after picking her up from school.

“…No one else has it.” She eventually admits. “My friends think it’s… funny.”

“Do you think it’s funny?” Naoya insists, Naomi simply looks away; she never liked being put on the spot like that, and the conversation ends soon enough.

He sighs, and all he could think of is:

«It’s already started, isn’t it?»

It’s certainly a long way from the days where Naomi was nothing but enthralled by his appearance, admiring him with those big adorable round eyes of hers as she reaches for one of his strands and pulls at it, as if trying to decipher whether his hair was real, or not—or how she’d do the same for his piercings, gently removing her little hands from them so she wouldn’t hurt him, reminiscing on the day you brought her press-on earrings so she could look like him.

Luckily for Naoya, that’s only one stage of their life, for when they grow a bit older and stop caring about those trivial things, they’d actually being to look up to him for advice on how to dye hair or where to get their ears pierced without having to worry about infections and such; the moment the tables turn and they begin to admire him for his style when he was younger, Naoya feels nothing less than amazing, and a bit cocky too 😂.

“Come on daaaad, tell me!! How did you manage to keep your hair with that tint and without it looking like trash???” Naomi would whine; no other color seems to have stuck the way she wanted it, always washing off after one shower or two. “Like, I remember that you even went on missions, and it would still look good!!”

“Ah, so now you like it? What about the kids that thought it was funny looking?” Naoya teases as if that hadn’t hurt his feelings; Naomi rolls her eyes.

“Ugh, whatever… if you don’t want to tell me I guess I’ll just go with Gojo or something, I’m sure he knows a few places or some—”

“No, wait! Don’t go to him! I’ll tell you all you need to know!!”

Just to name a few interactions hahaha.

But either way, I feel that around… probably late 30s Naoya is going to outgrow the whole hair dyeing thing and just let his hair return to its natural dark color.

Everyone around him will take a while to get used to his new appearance, specifically his kids, since it was always blond for as long as they could remember… but they get used to it soon enough. As for you, though, you’re the one that likes it the most and you make sure to let him know whenever possible—he rewards you appropriately that night, I dare say, Naohime was born out of that lol.

“We finally look like a family.” You’d jest one day—as if all his kids didn’t look exactly like him: dark hair, golden eyes…

If anything, you’re the outcast here 😂

Ngl, I wonder what a much older Naoya would look like; would he still have piercings? Grandpa out there still rocking the blonde hair lmao!!!

Ahhh thank you so much for sending in this ask!! While writing this two ideas came to me on the type of dynamic Naoya would have with his baby when she's all grown up; one of them is sweet, the other one is a bit sad :'( we shall see which one I write first 😏

Once again, thank you so much for sending in this!! I had fun :> Take care, and hope to see you soon!!

#ask #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen #imagine if it was hereditary

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goosewriting · 15 days ago

Note

I am a SUCKER for enemies to lovers

So hear me out, reader is part of the mantis crew as a healer and for some reason cal and them just don’t get along. at. all. And maybe like, they put their differences aside for the sake of getting the holocron first (not without some tension and snipping at each other) but after that’s over, neither of them have anything to take their mind off the other so they end up sniping at each other and getting into arguments a lot more often and eventually reader storms off after cal had said something particularly scathing and she maybe gets into trouble in some way? Like she’s not the best at fighting but then her blaster jams up and she thinks she’s done for but cal had followed her and saves her? Anyway, it all ends in a super heated kiss? Idk just a thought lol

(If you did write this, could reader be short? Like I’m 5’2” and I don’t see many fics where my height is represented? If that makes sense? And since I headcanon cal as six foot..)

Anyway sorry for the longish request! Just thought I’d drop in something lol

Have a good day/night!!

Can't Stand to be With(out) You

summary: after getting on everyone’s nerves with their bickering, Cal and reader are put in time-out to finally make up.

relationship: Cal Kestis x gn!reader

warnings: second hand embarrassment, making out

word count: 3k

A/N: to be frank, this was one of the hardest Cal fics to write. the request and idea in itself is great and i’ve been trying to come up with something since the moment you sent it in, but it’s been SO hard to find a way to convincingly portray cal like someone reader doesn't get along with because i literally love him sm i can’t imagine him ever being anything other than a sweetheart with the people he cares about 😭 so yeah i hope i did your request justice!<3 i love short!reader so please do send in some more for cal when i open reqs :’)

[all masterlists] 🪶 [star wars masterlist] 🪶 [ao3]

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Ever since the holocron was retrieved and destroyed, some deeper troubles seem to be coming to the surface amongst the Mantis crew. Or rather, between you and Cal specifically. Cere decided that the team should lie low for some time until comm chatter about them calms down again, so you currently find yourself on a moon somewhere in the Outer Rim.

Cal and you accompanied Greez to the local market to get provisions, and even in small things like these, you notice how much friction has bubbled up between you and the redhead.

If you’re being honest with yourself, you’re so tired of Cal’s way of going about things. The way he always goes in sabres and blasters-a-blazin’ instead of strategising a little more. That one time he literally jumped off the Mantis mid-flight on Kashyyyk? Absolutely insane.

Cal seems to think that stims or bacta will cure anything. He comes up so beat up sometimes that you’ve questioned his self-preservation instincts more than once. You give him a piece of your mind as well when he comes back to the Mantis like this, that he has to better take care of himself out there, as one day he might be so injured, he might not make it back in time for you to patch him up again.

He suggested that the solution might be to take you with him, and for a low stake reconnaissance mission he did drag you along, but you both quickly realised that that was not your strong suit. You know he probably didn’t mean to, but still, he made you feel like you were slowing him down. And you were pretty helpless against local fauna and enemies, still not completely skilled at shooting your blaster, since you had never had to use one before.

And if that didn’t make you feel pretty useless that day, then you had to swallow your pride and ask him to get some supplies from the top shelf, as you’re too short to reach. This was, unfortunately, not a rare occurrence. And while he never openly made fun of your height, this was just a reminder of yet another aspect where he was “superior” to you.

Bringing your focus back to the task at hand, you point to a basket of fruits, saying that you should get some. Meanwhile, Cal is looking at some pre-packaged food instead of fresh produce; he vouches for practicality, while you insist you should focus on nutrition. Greez rolls his eyes as you butt heads for what seems like the hundredth time today.

Merely seeing Cal’s face brings up anger in you now. Your mind trails off again as he goes on about ration bars, thinking about how insufferable he is. The way he thinks the whole weight of the galaxy resides on his shoulders; what’s up with that? He is so harsh with himself when something doesn't go as planned. And then the whole team has to deal with his sulking.

Having had enough of your antics, Greez sends you both back to camp to cool off while he takes care of the food.

“And by the time we’re back, you better be best friends!” he calls as you leave the market.

Cere is currently elsewhere with Merrin getting intel. As you’re both walking side by side in spiteful silence, Cal takes out his comlink, hitting up Cere and asking if he can join her. The gall of this guy! You shoot him an incredulous look. Cere says no, however, and in a hushed voice makes it clear that she, too, is fed up with your bickering, so you should make up already. Then she hangs up.

The whole walk back, Cal is restless and frustrated. He claims to be stuck on the moon, and he feels like they’re losing time, that he could be doing something.

You stop dead in your tracks, and he looks back at you questioningly.

“You're always going on about doing more and more. Why can’t you take a break and be happy about what you’ve already accomplished?” you blurt out, unable to hold back any more. “You’ve saved all those kids on the holocron list. In the past months, you’ve almost died so many times I’ve lost count. I understand the cause, but you’ve neglected yourself for too long. Heal and rest properly so you can still go out there to do… whatever it is you do.”

You regret your poor choice of words the moment they come out of your mouth. You didn’t mean to downplay Cal’s actions and the danger he gets himself into to save people or get intel. But at the end of the day, you don't actually know exactly what he does and how. You only see the end result in the state he comes back in.

“‘Whatever I do’?” he repeats incredulously with a scoff. “What do you think I do? I’m sorry I can’t stay inside the ship all the time playing nurse.”

Whatever intention you had of backtracking and rephrasing is thrown out the window. His words sting.

“Playing…?”

You haven't told him about the nightmares plaguing you, where you see him over and over, bleeding out, falling to his death, unable to rescue him. He dies in your arms every time.

But you’re not about to tell him that. So you storm off. Where to, doesn’t matter, you just need to get away from him.

You can hear Cal calling out to you as he tries to keep up with your hasty pace, navigating through the maze of narrow passages that make up the village. At some point, you manage to lose him after squeezing through a rather small opening in the wall, and you stop to catch your breath. Your mind is reeling, and there are so many things you want to tell him but know will get you nowhere. The team wants, needs you to make up to function properly again, and you know it. You’re aware it’s not just him but you as well who has become extremely irritable, causing the team morale to sink considerably.

Leaning back against the brick wall, you groan in frustration. Why does it always have to be you to give in, and swallow your pride and words for the sake of a moment of peace on the Mantis? It’s not fair.

As you’re mulling over this, you don’t hear the steps quickly getting closer. By the time you realise what’s happening, a bandit is standing in front of you, holding a knife in his hand. You don’t really have anything to give him, so you quickly push yourself off the wall and make a run for it. Turning around mid-run, you try to shoot at the bandit, but of course your blaster gets jammed, so you throw it at him instead. The guy easily dodges the weapon, quickly closing the distance between you two.

When he inevitably reaches you, he harshly grabs onto your arm, bringing you to a forceful stop and slamming you against the wall. There’s a blur of lights as Cal appears out of seemingly thin air, fighting off the bandit, who quickly escapes with a yelp of fear.

You shake your head at Cal’s actions, so much for “lying low”; here he is, yet again, sabre out.

“Put that thing away before someone else sees,” you reprimand him, looking around the passage, but luckily there’s no one.

Cal retracts his weapon, clipping it back to his belt, hidden under his coat. He looks around one last time to make sure the coast is clear, then turns to you with a frown, surely to scold you, but whatever he was going to say dissipates, as does his anger, his face instead morphing into worry.

”You’re bleeding,” he points out, his hand coming up to your temple. But you swat him away, hissing as you touch the wound caused by getting slammed face-first into a brick wall. You look at the blood on your fingertips accusingly, like it’s to blame for this whole situation.

You walk back to camp in silence, not without retrieving your blaster that you threw a couple streets further back. Cal follows a couple of steps behind you, and you don’t look back at him once.

When you arrive, you’re glad to see the rest of the team hasn’t come back yet. You get your things and go to the refresher to use the mirror to patch yourself up. Cal wants to help, but you swat his hand away for the second time that day. So he leaves you alone to clean your wound and apply some bacta, then you place a little gauze over it.

When you come back out, you find him sitting on his bunk, and he calls you to him, so you sit next to him, both of you surrounded by uncomfortable silence until he speaks.

”About what I said earlier–“

“Don’t,” you cut him off, shaking your head. “You’re so concerned about the entire galaxy out there that you forget the people right here with you.”

“What do you mean?” He looks at you, offended.

The sound you produce is something between a scoff and a groan of frustration, starting to turn away.

“I don’t forget about any of you!” he remarks, gently holding your shoulders to make you face him. “I couldn’t do this without you, and if anything, we’re doing this also for ourselves. Because we can, and others out there don’t have the chance to fight back.”

“Ugh!” You free yourself of his hold and stand up, pacing up and down in front of him. “You’re like, this all powerful being of legends, moving stuff with your mind, effortlessly picking your enemies off, while I'm back here, worrying about you to the point I can't sleep. All the time, but especially ever since we destroyed the holocron, you go around picking fights, going after imps without thinking of the consequences that could have for the rest of us!”

He looks at you, and you can feel your whole body shaking.

“Is that what you’re worried about?” he asks. “Nothing will happen to any of you, I’ll protect you.”

“But what if you can't!” Now you’re close to tears, sitting back down on his cot, looking up at him almost pleadingly. “What if you don’t come back?! Do you know how terrified I’ve been every time you left and I didn’t know what state you’d come back in, if at all?”

“Wha–”

This time, it’s your hands that come up to his shoulders, and you shake him back and forth lightly to emphasise your words.

“You say you’ll protect us, but who’s protecting you, Cal? I can’t go out there with you, we’ve already established that. But what if you need me? What if I can’t get to you in time? I could never forgive myself.”

“You’ve got it all wrong,” he says, taking your hands in his and giving them a reassuring squeeze. “The reason I can go out there in the first place is because I know you’re safe, and that you’ll be here when I come back.”

“That’s not sustainable at all,” you say with a huff.

“It’s worked this far, though, hasn’t it?”

There is a moment of silence as you hold each other’s gaze, and while you’ve seen his eyes a million times, for the first time you realise just how deep of a blue they hold. Were they always this beautiful?

“So all this time, you’ve been worried about me?” he asks almost shyly.

“Obviously,” you answer.

“I thought you disliked me. Some days even hated me.”

“What? No. I mean–”

He raises his brow questioningly, and as you’re trying to formulate an answer that encompasses that some days you can’t stand him but he, in fact, means so much to you, you look down at your hands still in his, and he holds onto them even tighter, as if scared that you might let go.

“I mean, I, uhm,” you stumble over your words, looking back at up him, aware of the heat spreading on your face. “We’ve been part of this crew for a while now. I guess I’ve become rather… fond of you. As a colleague, you know.”

“Colleagues, huh,” he says, and a grin spreads on his face, an adorable blush adorning his freckled cheeks. “That’s too bad, because I think I just realised I, uh, like you. A lot, actually.”

You can’t help but laugh at the timing of such a confession.

“To think that all this time we were giving each other such a hard time,” you say, shaking your head.

“Maybe it’s better that way, though.”

“How so?” you ask.

“Had I known back then, it would have been infinitely harder to leave for missions. I know it certainly will be from now on.”

“I could still join you,” you joke, and you both laugh, knowing that that’s a bad idea for a multitude of reasons.

“Absolutely not. I’m not putting you in danger,” he says, his hands momentarily letting go of yours to gingerly run up and down your arms as he looks lost in thought, cherishing this moment. Then his eyes snap back to yours as if he suddenly remembered something.

“You said earlier you're so worried that you can’t sleep?”

“Ah, well, yeah,” you say with a slight shrug, trying to brush it off. “I’ve been having some nightmares, but nothing serious.”

Cal gives you a deadpan expression.

“Yeah well, you know,” you try to come up with an explanation that holds the least amount of detail as possible. All the while, his soft caresses seem to light your whole body on fire. “You’ve come back pretty bruised at times. I was, am, scared that one day I won’t be able to patch you back up.”

“Believe it or not, I do know my limits. I wouldn't ever put myself in actual danger if I knew I was in over my head.”

“And I believe you. What I'm worried about is your ability to assess the situation.”

“Ouch,” he chuckles. “Maybe I can just see more from where I stand.”

You narrow your eyes at him.

“Do you mean through the Force, or are you actually calling me short right now?”

He grins.

“Oh, you better watch out for your kneecaps, young man, they might go missing one night!”

“Yeah? I’d like to see you try… shortie.”

“Oh, that’s it!”

You play wrestle him, and he scoots further back onto the cot, so you follow, throwing half-hearted swipes at him, until you realise that you ended up climbing on top of him.

“Ah, sorry–” you apologise, trying to lift yourself off of him, but he holds you down, bringing you closer by your hips so you’re straddling him, and he sits up with you on his lap.

“It’s not just blind arrogance, by the way,” he says, bringing his hand up to run his knuckles over your jaw. “I trust the Force and my Master’s teachings more than I trust myself. They haven't failed me yet. I'm here. I’ll be here tomorrow, and the day after. So please, the last thing I want is for you to lose sleep over me.”

“I’ll try.”

Cal properly cups your face with both his hands now, and you place yours over his, leaning into his touch. Your faces start inching closer, like a magnetic force is pulling you together.

“It might help if you’re there when I fall asleep, though,” you whisper, lips ghosting over his. “Just a hypothesis.”

“I’m sure that can be arranged.”

When he finally kisses you, it’s like all the pieces of a puzzle fall into place. Everything makes sense now; the tension between you two, which had been there from the very beginning, was and had always been attraction. Disguised as snarky comments, arguments, glares and grumbles; in the end, you’d always find yourselves together, seeking out each other’s company.

As this realisation hits you, you feel a weight being lifted from your shoulders. But there’s a different weight on you now, one that you welcome, as Cal pushes you onto your back on his cot, climbing on top of you. He kisses you with desperation, as if making up for lost time, and you pull him closer, but it’s not enough. Everything you feel, taste, and breathe is Cal, and you don’t want this moment to end. He breaks the kiss momentarily for some much-needed oxygen, and attacks your throat instead. You bring one hand to your mouth in an attempt to stop the sounds threatening to escape, but it doesn’t work, and they only spur him on. Bringing his lips back to yours, his tongue finds your own. He snakes an arm around your back, further arching into him.

Suddenly, Cal flinches in surprise and pulls back, leaning on his elbows on either side of you.

“W-what?” you ask, out of breath.

“Cere is outside,” he merely says, a violent blush going from the tip of his ears all the way down to his neck.

“How do you…?”

“She was, uh, checking in, to see if we were here,” he says, unable to look at you.

“Well, can you tell her to… wait a bit longer?” you ask, running your fingers through his copper hair. His eyes find yours again and he tilts his head to the side, a smug smile starting to spread on his lips.

“Hm… You’re cute when you’re needy,” he says.

“Shut up,” you say with no snark whatsoever, chuckling.

“Maybe we can take this somewhere else,” Cal proposes, leaving a trail of small kisses on your jaw. “There’s a pretty good spot up by the hills, it has a nice view.”

“Should we pack some dinner too?”

He takes a moment to look down at you underneath him, then smiles with hungry eyes, towering over you.

“Good idea, I’m starving.”

— — — — —

Meanwhile, outside: Cere pinching the bridge of her nose with a groan, Greez giving her a confused look, while Merrin looks strangely proud.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

🐥 taglist: [link to join in my pinned post!] @dybynyght, @galaxtic-writings, @kalea-bane, @soka-writes-things, @padawancat97, @riddikulus-obsessions, @optimisticprime3, @starilicious , @lovelyygirl8, @cathyket, @wildefire, @ghostkestis, @reckoning-star, @wyvernthekriger, @camiemorgan8, @ivelostmyabilitytoeven

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its-all-papaya · 3 months ago

Note

for the ask game :

👗 put away clean laundry (a trope you’d like to see me write)

what about accidental marriage landoscar or a trapped in an elevator fic ?

okay i got two of these (thank you deeply, i've been fishing everything out of The Pile for the last few days and it sucks) so i put away HALF of the laundry and i'll do the other half after this and answer the other ask after that.

↠ please make me do my chores

trapped in an elevator landoscar is fascinating to me because i feel like depending on when it is, the vibes would vary so incredibly wildly. my first thought was like after a mid qualifying or a bad race, trying to get back to their rooms and lando is just a Bitch because he's moody and wants to be face-down in bed and this so incredibly inconvenient and he just. can't be here. oscar's being mild and trying to joke to make lando feel a bit better, and lando's trying to be kind bc that's his boy fr, but eventually he's like "this is a fucking joke, are we ever going to get out?" not sure where it would go from there, but feels like eventually they'd either Talk About It or Oscar would go anybody, nowhere mode and be like "if you sit in my lap and i rub ur back for a bit and you can put ur nose in my neck, would that help you chill out until we're free?" i'm partial to that one but i can't just write the same landoscar narrative over and over you know? maybe i can. who's to say.

the other option kicking around in my silly brain is Drunk getting-together Landoscar in an elevator bc i think we are all aware of lando's favorite post-drinking activity of finding a man to hang onto. so oscar trying to get him home to his apartment or hotel room but then they get trapped. and lando is like plastered to oscar's side already (probably oscar's been holding his hand since they left the club or whatever so lando would stop looking so sad) so when the elevator stops he's amenable for a bit. leaning into oscar's side with all his body weight so oscar HAS to put his arm around lando to keep him from collapsing. and when it's been long enough, eventually, they're sat together on the floor, lando's head on oscar's shoulder, "osc, can you play with my hair? i like when people touch my hair" and oscar is like "is that true?" bc lando is like. kind of neurotic about it sometimes. and lando is like "yes, of course! not at work, you muppet, that would be crazy" (even though oscar's totally touched lando's hair like a dozen times at work and lando's only ever grinned at him about it) "only when it's the right time. like when i'm sucking someone off and they pull my hair, that's the right time for sure." and oscar is like... oh! okay! cool, that's such a fun fact about you! and who knows where lando's drunk ramblings would take them from there!! (fuck me this feels so strongly like another fucking wip i need to lay off the microsoft word 'new document' button so baddddly)

accidental marriage landoscar.... (almost forgot the second half of this bc got distracted thinking about drunk lando telling oscar he looooooves it when men call him pretty). okay... idk how this would even happen and i need to sell things to myself to make the fic work, like it's got to be at least distantly very abstractly believable to me... but you know they'd be a disaster. it's not speaking to me the way trapped in an elevator is, but i love domestic shit so i could probably make this work if i thought about it longer than like 35 seconds... i'd probably make it kind of fake dating-y in theory like forced proximity...rings...that lando tottttttalllly doesn't get sooooo attached to why would you even ASK him that?? anyway.

#answered #chore time #perhaps i should stop begging for ask prompts and work on my existing wips? NAH NOT GONNA DO IT #landoscar

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sophieinwonderland · 2 months ago

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Hullo! I have questions? I’m trying to figure out what endogenic systems are, and it’s all decently new to me.

If this ask is rude in any way please void

What is a willowgenic system?

Are median-systems (monoconcious) systems strictly endogenic?

Are dreamaway systems (maladaptive daydreaming systems, MaDDs systems) endogenic? (Curious about this one because anti-endos do not like answering that one)

And last but not least, how does tulpmacy works (idk if I spelt that right)

Thank you for your time!!!

Hi there! Thanks for the questions!

A "willogenic" system is a term for a created system, and is usually used as an alternative to tulpamancy. The big difference being that tulpamancy has a much more extensive community with a masive trove of resources that isn't always connected to the more general plural community.

I don't much like "willogenic" as a term personally as I feel it simplifies the process, suggesting the headmates can be created through will alone.

Tulpamancy generally works, in its most basic form, by talking to an entity in your head until it becomes autonomous and sentient. There are a few different variations of this.

The most popular in the community seems to be starting from scratch. You give your tulpa an appearance and imagine their appearance, but not much else. Maybe you'll imagine a few personality traits for them as well. If you talk to them enough and treat them like their own person, you'll eventually hear a voice belonging to them. It will sound similar to your internal thoughts, but different at the same time. So the job of a tulpamancer is to listen for these voices. Or often before a voice, you may instead sense your tulpa's feelings and emotions in the beginning before the tulpa is actually vocal. (This is usually called tulpish.)

The less popular method, but the most common for producing accidental tulpas, is creating a more-developed character and "parroting," where you speak for them in the beginning. Do this long enough, and that character you controlled initially will develop independence and autonomy. Many tulpamancers end up being writers whose creations become sentient.

The reason for this, I believe, is that a lot of fiction writing involves low levels of dissociation. When you think about it, it requires you to compartmentalize. To feel what a character feels, you need to put all your knowledge and feelings as the writer in one box, and the feelings of the character in a second box.

This is even more true when you start talking to the character, and having conversations with them as yourself.

And no, median systems are not inherently endogenic. There are plenty of median systems out there who are traumagenic, and one could consider certain forms of OSDD a type of median system. Additionally, many polyfragmented systems will describe having median subsystems.

Dreamway systems will also vary in origin. Some are traumagenic. Some are endogenic. And sometimes it's complicated.

Maladaptive daydreaming itself is heavily associated with trauma, but can exist without trauma present. This is because of an addictive quality of daydreaming. And even if the daydreaming is caused by trauma, that doesn't mean that the system is. In a traumagenic system, the system is created by the trauma directly, and the brain basically trying to quarantine the trauma from the rest of the system. In a dreamway system, the maladaptive daydreaming may be caused by trauma, but that doesn't mean the system is.

Dreamway systems, even if the MADD itself is traumagenic, may lack the "EP" or trauma-holding headmates characteristic of CDDs (complex dissociative disorders) under the structural dissociation model.

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o0o0thorn0o0o · 1 year ago

Text

I be back.

Images by themselves below the cut because I spent way too much time on them + text because I’ve been gone for a while—‘course I got a lotta say.

It’s certainly been a while, eh? I did this last cour, too, and I swear to God if I do this for the next cour… Worst part is, I haven’t even watched it yet this time, rip :,) Will definitely do sometime later today, for sure, for sure.

So, I meant to get this done for IchiHime week (and look at how that turned out, haha), but not only was July a month full of pleasure, but it was also full of pain work. I was bordering a D for Orgo, so I spent a good portion prioritizing that—and it wasn’t for naught! Not only did I pass, but I went from a C- to a B! A freaking B, not even a B-!!! I’m still so shocked… I also ended up with over a 100 for lab, but I honestly kinda expected that. I’m just so glad I graduated without failing Orgo 2. Was infinitely better than Orgo 1, but goodbye, will never see you again. If I ever do, it’ll be too soon… Had hella good professors, though. That, I will say.

I go from ranting about Orgo to raving, even though it’s almost been a month… Oops ^^” The grade just still makes me so giddy, haha. Anyway, been mainly prioritizing drawing this (plus a part two to this, which I do have done as well, but I will be posting that sometime later today), though I did spend a good portion of the first half of this month rebooting my personal writing club. Enough about where I’ve been—let’s talk about the piece, shall we?

So, this was originally just an art idea I knew I wanted to do later, and when I saw what the first prompt was, it automatically came to the forefront of my mind. That, plus with the idea I eventually got for the second prompt, I really just had to. I actually probably could’ve gotten this done in a more reasonable time, but, see, when things are just an idea, I don’t put too, too much thought into them—only enough to consider them neat or substantial or something.

When it actually came to it, I found myself at a dilemma of just how faithful I wanted to stick with Orihime’s confession. Originally, I thought about incorporating the five specific things she mentioned into different past lives, but then I realized the timelines wouldn’t really make sense with what I was going for, especially considering Soul Society and stuff, which I had not thought about. So I kinda had to choose between previous lives or parallel lives. I initially went with the latter, but… idk, last minute, like the week of, I decided after checking the prompt list one more time that, nah, I definitely wanted previous lives. So, uh… yeah… I might still end up making a parallel lives version of this in the future, ‘cause I did like those ideas, too. We’ll see.

Anyway, I did try to make them at least somewhat reminiscent of the five things: Orihime and Hikoboshi are related to the astronaut thing ‘cause of space and stars and stuff. Heian Period IchiHime, well, it’s a bit of stretch, but I couldn’t really fit donuts in here since the timeline between them and the introduction of ice cream and the current timeline would’ve made one/two of these lives tragically short without even factoring in Soul Society—nothing wrong with tragedy, but not for this post, haha. So I went with small Chinese cakes ‘cause they’re a sweet? And they’d definitely be a very rare and special treat, so… idk.

Shinigami IchiHime’s also a bit of a stretch? You’d think I’d have the easiest time with being a teacher sometime in history, but I ended up sticking it here, and I was adamant I wanted to draw them in their academy days. So, you’ve got Orihime teaching Ichigo some kido techniques or something, idk. Maybe there’s also a kido equivalent to the dummy Hollow thing? And Orihime has a similar/equivalent position to Shuuhei for that? Idk, am just spitballing here to justify myself even though I know I don’t have to.

Then finally, we got Edo Period IchiHime, with Ichigo introducing ice cream to Orihime for the first time ever. And then of course, I shouldn’t have to explain the last one, haha.

Oh, God, I have so much to catch up on… which I will do later. And hey, since my scheduled posts are all up, I guess I’ll just use my queue to reblog posts I’ve missed since Ik I definitely will be reblogging a lot—don’t wanna bombard you with a ton of posts, aha. I will be making them daily instead of weekly, though, so that I’m not stashing them for too long. Starting tomorrow.

#bleach #inoue orihime #kurosaki ichigo #ichihime #fanart #digital art #I hate backgrounds sooo much #made my wrist fricking hurt #and what? to look subpar? bah humbug…#also ew what’s with that new dashboard setup???

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mister-mickey · 1 year ago

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Hi, if possible do u think u could do outsiders hc, on the topic of little quirks they would all have? Like for example idk maybe someone has like lots of stuffed toys in their bed, or like someone who enjoy weird food combos ykwim? Love love love ur writing and ty!

Asks tumblr

AH I DIDNT SEE THIS UNTIL TODAY?? lol sorry

Darry

- He used to eat glue 💔

- Like, he thought it tasted really good! His dad had to confiscate all the glue for a month because of him.

- If anyone ever mentions this he pummels them into the ground

Sodapop

- He likes to collect flowers and plants and tear them apart

- Not in a destructive way, in a “I need to keep my hands busy” way

- He especially likes tearing everything except for the spine off of a leaf, it’s his fave

Ponyboy

- he walks in circles while listening to music

- He just paces around the kitchen for actual hours and honestly it worries darry a bit

- He’s having the time of his life though, even if he looks crazy doing it

Twobit

- he refuses to drink things normally, he always chugs whatever he’s got

- His record is 20 seconds for a gallon of milk

- He feels awful afterwards but it’s worth it to him for some reason

Steve

- He still plays with the toy cars that Mr. Curtis got him as a kid

- Secretly of course, but soda knows and just doesn’t say anything

- But he’ll be in his bedroom going “vroom!” With them. He loves mimicking car crashes

Dally

- he LOVES those tiny glass animals!

- He steals a bunch of them every-time he sees them, just because they’re so TINY AND THEY FIT IN HIS FIST SO EASILY

- He doesn’t play with them or anything but he still likes looking at them. He’s got them shoved in his dresser with his underwear.

Johnny

- he collects things from the schools lost and found lmao

- He’s not usually much of a thief, but he can’t help himself. He loves all the weird clothes especially

- Sometimes he wears the clothes he took to school to see if anyone recognizes them (so far nobody has. He would be scared shitless if someone realizes)

Tim

- he doesn’t wear pajamas, he straight up goes to sleep in the clothes he wore all day

- Like, jeans and leather jacket. He has woken up multiple times to see that his arms are both asleep

- He says it’s because he doesn’t care, but he actually outgrew all his pajamas and doesn’t want to get new ones

Angela

- she steals peoples pets

- Sometimes she returns them for money, but usually she keeps them until either they run away or Tim kicks them out

- She’s an animal girlie what can I say. She names them all variations of Angela too (Angel, Angie, lala, etc…)

Curly

- he still sleeps with the stuffed rabbit he had as a kid

- It’s got one ear completely gone because he chewed it off as a kid

- Tim and Angela tease him to no end but he knows they wouldn’t ever tell anyone. He hopes that at least.

Bryon

- mf hates cats

- He’s not superstitious at all, but he’s convinced taht they’re bad luck

- Maybe they just remind him of Angela idk, but he will scowl and groan if he sees one (loser alert!)

Mark

- he loves worms so much man

- He picks them up and holds them in his hand until he eventually drops it. He goes digging for them sometimes

- he is a hero and saves them after it rains! He picks them all up and puts them back in the grass

Cathy

- adores porcelain dolls. She isn’t really a materialistic person, but she used to have one and she still loves them

- The outfits? The hair? She wants one so bad but she doesn’t ever buy one because it’s “a waste” and she’s “too old for them”

- But she stares at them for so long when she’s in the store

M&M

- he gets cold so easily!!! Warm this boy up!

- He wears jacket after jacket but still gets cold, his bed has a million blankets on top, it’s like a mountain

- Ofc, this means winter is his least fave season, this kid turns straight up blue in winter

#I don’t know why I didn’t get a notification #the outsiders #curly shepard #tim shepard #dallas winston #steve randle #angela shepard #darry curtis #cathy carlson #m&m carlson #bryon douglas #johnny cade #sodapop curtis #ponyboy curtis

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yourlocalghoulette · 9 months ago

Text

Chapter 2~ Take On Me

Series Masterlist~ Main Masterlist~Meet the horses~

Warnings- eventual smut so MDNI! pretty much just fluff, reader has trauma, language, slow burn, flirting, relationship building

w/c: 3k

A/N~ part 2 is hereee! im literally so excited to be writing this story. part 3 is already in the works! please reblog, it always helps! Lmk if you want to be on the taglist:))

It was only when you got Joel’s number and scheduled your first work day that it started feeling real. Doing this, being around horses again, the thing that hurt you more than anything.

Well, it wasn’t the horses that hurt you. It was the way you were forced to push your limits with them. The way you were yelled at if you didn’t do something right. The way your stomach sank every time you were forced to use an unneeded pair of spurs on a horse.

Sleep doesn’t come easy Thursday night, the night before the long-awaited first day. You toss and turn in your bed, palms clammy and forehead sweaty. You kick off the matcha-colored bedspread you were wrapped in and sit up in bed, trying to take deep breaths to clear your head. You glance at your phone. 2:00 AM. If you know Sōl well enough, she’s probably at a party. She definitely won’t answer until morning.

So you text the one person who also might not be awake but still understands. Joel.

You click on the chat that only a few formal messages have been exchanged in and wonder if you’re being too impulsive. What is he going to think about you texting him at two in the morning? Your mind clouded with sleepiness and delusion, you text him anyway.

You- sorry for texting so late. having second thoughts about tmrw.

To your surprise, the ‘read’ icon pops up as soon as you send it.

Joel- i understand how you feel. are you wanting to cancel tomorrow? i was looking forward to it.

Did you want to cancel? Your brain is in a frenzy. He’s looking forward to it, you think over and over.

You- idk. i think still want to come tomorrow but I’m gonna take it slow:)

Joel- that makes sense and it’s totally good with me. can’t blame ya for feeling reluctant. you can pace things as slow as you want, ok cowgirl?

The nickname jumped off of your screen at you and butterflies take off inside your stomach.

You- ok cowboy;) thanks. excited to see u and the horses tmr!

Joel- likewise. now get some sleep, cowgirl.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as you turn off your phone. The conversation was short but sweet and oddly comforting.

You silently pad over to the kitchen and quickly make a cup of chamomile tea with lots of honey. While you drink it, you shamelessly open the stable’s website and scroll to the picture of Joel and Sarah. You look closely at Joel’s left hand, resting over Sarah’s shoulder.

No ring.

Ok, he wasn’t married, but that didn’t mean much. He could still be dating, you tell yourself. Even with that possibility, you catch yourself smiling softly at the photo, staring into Joel’s dark brown eyes. Soft and comforting, like the tea you’re drinking. You sigh and walk slowly back to bed, rubbing your eyes which at this point are bloodshot from tiredness.

With Joel’s messages imprinted in your head, you quickly fall asleep.

“Un-fucking-believable. I gave you one. Job. ONE job! To win the goddamn gold medal. And what did you do? You knocked over FOUR jumps. You are a dissapointment to this team. To the profession of jumping.”

“Please- I-I’m sorry, the horse was acting weird! Probably because you made me whip him when he doesn’t need it!”

“Don’t use those goddamn tears on me. Maybe I should show you how a whip feels.”

You wake up three hours later in a cold sweat, your face streaked with tears. You breathe heavily, your hands shaking with each breath. You run your hands over your face.

“It’s just a memory,” you whisper over and over to yourself. You try to breathe in through your nose and out your mouth, calming yourself down.

Sometimes you wish you don’t have to wake up in an empty bed, no one by your side to comfort you. It stings when you think about the last time someone was in your bed.

You shake the memories away for right now. Taking one last deep breath to attempt to ground you, you climb out of bed. You skip breakfast, not sure if you would be able to keep any food down with the amount of nerves flitting in your stomach.

You brush your teeth and throw on some mascara quickly, your hands still shaky and making it difficult. You put on a black tank top and faded boot cut jeans, along with a loose red flannel because it can get cold in the early Texas mornings.

It’s 6:00 on the dot when you slide on your steel-toed work boots, tucking them under your jeans. You grab your keys and a granola bar just in case and head out the door.

As you struggle to start your old pickup truck, second thoughts and anxieties start to fill your mind once again. You struggle to push them out of your head, filling it instead with the thought that you get to see Joel again. Nevertheless, your hands shake around the wheel as you drive the short drive to Sarah’s Stables.

When you pull into the driveway, Joel is sitting outside the barn on the concrete bench, shaking his leg with a nervous expression on his face. You step out of your truck and stride over to Joel as he stands up, trying to put on a confident smile even though the last thing you feel is confident.

“Morning,” Joel grins, shaking your hand firmly. His hand lingers on yours a little longer than it should before he pulls away.

“G’morning, cowboy,” you tip an invisible hat, and he returns the gesture. He leads you into the barn, gesturing you to follow with his hand.

“Did’ya get any sleep last night?” He asks with a hint of concern in his voice, making your heart melt.

You shrug. “Kind of. And I’m really sorry for texting you so late- or, early? I didn’t really have anyone else to text.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Joel waves it off. “I liked it, having someone to talk to even for a bit. I’m always up past 2 doing paperwork and ordering feed and all that shit.”

“Good to know,” you grin, trying to hide the flustered expression on your face. You enter the barn, immediately walking up to the small Shetland pony’s stall. “Hey, buddy,” you coo, gently tracing the long stripe down his face. “And to whom do I owe the pleasure?”

Joel chuckles, leaning next to you on the stall door. “That’s Orion. Rescued him along with the percheron, Amadeus, from an animal hoarder.”

“So you’ve had a rough time with humans, huh, bud?” You nod understandingly. “I get it.”

“Very. I get it too,” Joel says softly. “So. Let’s get to work, huh? I’m gonna show you the different feed mixes for each horse. Not sayin’ you’ll have to feed ‘em every time you’re working here. We’ll feed the horses then I’ll introduce you. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds perfect. It feels weird, being at a barn after so long of avoiding horses, y’know?” you sigh softly. “Is it too soon to say I have a good feeling about you and this barn? Like…I don’t know how to explain it. It just feels different.”

Joel nods knowingly, toying absentmindedly with Orion’s forelock. “Not at all. I get it,” he says understandingly. His eyes soften as he watches you interact with Orion, a slight faraway look on your face. “You doin’ okay, cowgirl?”

You nod, straightening up. “Yeah. Sorry. Just…zoned out.”

“No need to apologize,” Joel smiles softly. A tall cinnamon colored Tennessee Walker down the aisle kicks his stall door in impatience. “Let’s do this.”

In less than 20 minutes, the horses are fed and happily nickering into their feed buckets. Joel had written down the feed mixes for each individual horses with care and posted it on the wall so you didn’t have to memorize them right away. You can tell how much Joel Miller cares for his horses.

“We can turn the horses out now.” Joel tosses you two halters, a purple nylon one and a teal rope one. “Think you can handle two horses at once?”

“Totally.” You sling the halters over your shoulder.

“The rope halter is for Whiskey, the Tennessee Walker and the nylon is for Dottie, the Appaloosa mare. Stalls 5 and 6.”

In no time, you worked together to get all six horses out to the pasture. It’s picturesque, a large green field with a tall white fence surrounding the perimeter. It feels like a daydream watching the horses frolic aorund with eachother, enjoying their taste of freedom after being caged in a stall for the night.

You and Joel sit on the lower bar of the fence, arms resting along the top piece with your head on top. Observing the horses’ behaviors carefully, you can see with the way the chestnut Quarter Horse gelding pins his ears and threatens any horse that gets close to his pile of hay that he’s top dog. The dominant horse, the leader. A comfortable silence falls between you and Joel, as you both let out a collective sigh of relief as the stress of morning feeding washes off.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Joel sighs, breaking off the silence.

“Gorgeous,” you agree, glancing over at Joel. His soft brown eyes are full of adoration for his horses.

He gestures towards the chestnut Quarter Horse. “That right there is Magnum. Total powerhouse. Used to be a ‘coon hunting horse.”

You giggle, staring over at Magnum’s solid build and shiny coat. “People still hunt for raccoons?”

Joel shrugs incredulously. “I guess. His owner gave him to me because he wasn’t getting enough attention. He was ridden twice a week and left to rot by himself in a field the rest of the time. He’s obviously dom, as you’ve probably noticed.”

“Mhm,” you nod. “I noticed. I can tell he has a strong personality, too.” You grin, looking over at Joel.

“Sure does,” Joel smiles back proudly. Your shared gaze lasts a little too long before you turn your head away, looking back at the horses and trying to hide the flustered expression on your face.

Joel introduces you to the rest of the horses; Amadeus, the percheron, Dottie, the petite Appaloosa mare, and Arizona, the gorgeous flaxen-colored mustang/Arabian cross.

“Say, have you eaten anything for breakfast yet?” Joel asks, holding out his hand to help you up from your perches on the fence.

You’re sure this man is going to be the death of you. You shake your head sheepishly, gently grabbing his hand as you stand up. His grip is soft and warm, hands calloused from years of hard work. “Not really,” you say as you let go of his hand. “I was too nervous.”

“What, am I that scary to ya’, cowgirl?” He grins cheekily, nudging your shoulder playfully as you both walk back into the barn.

“Pfft,” you roll your eyes as you nudge him back. “No, not scared. Terrified.” You stick your tongue out at him.

“Ha, ha, darlin’. Why don’t we go get some breakfast? Gotta fuel up before cleanin’ the stalls.”

You shrug. “Sure. Where were you thinking?”

“Home Grounds is a good coffee shop, good bakery stuff too,” Joel offers.

“No fucking way,” your eyes widen in surprise. “I work there! How have I never seen you there?”

“You must not be on the clock when I go. I’m sure I’d remember a face like yours,” Joel says softly, then catches himself, clearing his throat. “Sorry, that was-”

“It’s fine,” you wave it off. “Let’s go. We can take your truck. Mine’s a little…messy right now.”

Joel chuckles. “Sure as hell can’t be as bad as mine.”

Soon, you’re driving with Joel to the coffee shop, Take On Me by A-ha playing quietly through the speakers.

“I love this song!” You smile widely, opening the window and resting your arm outside.

“Me too,” Joel turns up the stereo. “You sing at all, cowgirl?”

You shake your head quickly, eyes wide in mock horror. “Not at all. Do you, cowboy?”

“A bit. I play a smidge of guitar, too,” he smirks.

“Oh, really? I’m gonna have to hear some of these Joel Miller guitar skills sometime,” you grin.

Joel shakes his head, a smile growing on his face as he pulls into the coffee shop driveway. “Believe me, I hype up my skills wayyy too much.” He turns off the truck and quickly runs around to your side of the truck to open your door. Butterflies take off in your stomach as he does this.

Hiding your flustered look, you deadpan him, eyes rolling. “Dude,” you grin, climbing out and he shuts the door behind you.

“What?” He opens the coffee shop door for you too. “Momma always taught me to be a gentleman.”

“And my mom always taught me to never trust men,” you grin cheekily.

“I can change that,” he side eyes you.

Trying to ignore his words, you wave at a coworker. “Hey, Jess!” You call to her, walking up to the counter.

“Hey, girlie. Who’s that?” She asks slyly, eyeing Joel. “New boyfriend?”

“Uh, no,” you say quickly before Joel can hear. “I’m working for him. He owns a horse barn.”

“You’re back to horses?” Jess inquires, cocking a brow.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, okay?” You spin around to face Joel. “What are you getting?”

“Just a black coffee and blueberry muffin, but don’t worry, cowgirl. I gotchu.” He starts taking out his wallet but you playfully swat his arm.

“Don’t. Please. I get employee discount anyway.”

Joel sighs in defeat, holding up his hands in mock offense. “Fine. But I’m paying next time.”

Next time, next time, next time….

After you order, the black coffee for him and a cold brew for you, you go to put your card in the reader to notice Joel’s card is already there. “Joel!” You mutter, giving him a disapproving look.

“Hey, I’m tryna be nice, okay?” He chuckles.

You roll your eyes. “Whatever. Thanks, really.”

The atmosphere felt charged with an unspoken tension as you both sat at a small table by the window, the warm sunlight filtering in. Joel's eyes seemed to hold a certain depth, a familiarity that stirred something within you.

"So, tell me about yourself, cowgirl," Joel said, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between you.

You took a sip of your cold brew, gathering your thoughts. "There’s not a whole lot to tell. Well, there is, but not a lot I want to go into right now. I fell in love with horses after riding a pony at a fair, and it kind of exploded from there. I started off riding Western and doing gymkhanas, then switched over to hunter/jumpers. That was obviously a huge change. I exelled really quickly in that, but as you probably know, being the best doesn’t mean you’re treated the best. A lot of shit happened at those barns, and I quit when when I was 18. People called me selfish and self-absorbed for quitting, which is what i believed for awhile. But my mental health imrpoved a lot after quitting and I came to accept the fact that it was a good thing.”

Joel nodded, his expression understanding. "I get that. Sometimes life throws us curveballs, and we need to take a step back to reassess things."

"Yeah, exactly," you replied, feeling a sense of relief wash over you at his understanding. "But now I'm back, and I'm hoping things will be different this time."

"I'm sure they will be," Joel said with a reassuring smile. "You've got a good head on your shoulders, cowgirl."

You felt heat creeping up your cheeks at his compliment, quickly taking another sip of your cold brew to hide your reaction. "Thanks, Joel. I appreciate that."

The conversation flowed effortlessly between you, covering everything from your favorite books to your shared love of old John Wayne western movies. With each passing moment, you found yourself becoming more and more drawn to Joel, his easygoing nature and genuine kindness pulling you in.

Before you knew it, your cups were empty, and it was time to head back to the barn. As you walked side by side with Joel, the familiar feeling of nervous excitement bubbled up inside you once again.

As soon as you walk back into the barn, he turns on a 70s playlist and tosses you a mucking fork. “Ready to muck some stalls, cowgirl?”

The music fills the barn with a nostalgic vibe as you take the mucking fork from Joel with a grin. "Born ready," you reply, matching his playful tone.

Together, you fall into a rhythm of cleaning the stalls, the repetitive motion oddly soothing as you work side by side. Joel hums along to the music, occasionally breaking out into a soft whistle that echoes through the barn.

As you work, you can't help but steal glances at Joel, admiring the way his muscles flex beneath his shirt with each movement. There's something comforting about his presence, a sense of safety and warmth that you haven't felt in a long time.

Before you know it, the stalls are clean, and the horses are happily munching on fresh hay. You wipe the sweat from your brow, feeling a sense of satisfaction at a job well done.

"Thanks for your help, cowgirl," Joel says, giving you a grateful smile as he leans against the stall door.

"No problem," you reply, returning his smile. "It was actually kind of fun."

Joel chuckles, pushing himself off the door. "Glad to hear it. You've got a talent for this, you know?"

You feel a swell of pride at his words, a sense of validation that you haven't felt in a long time. "Thanks, Joel. That means a lot coming from you."

He gives you a nod of appreciation before glancing at his watch. "Well, I hate to cut this short, but I've got some paperwork to take care of. Think you can handle things on your own for a bit?"

You nod confidently, eager to prove yourself. "Of course. I'll hold down the fort."

"Great," Joel says, giving you a pat on the shoulder. "I'll be back in a bit. And hey, if you need anything, just give me a shout."

With that, he disappears into the office, leaving you alone in the barn. You take a deep breath, feeling a surge of determination coursing through your veins.

You may have started the day with doubts and anxieties, but now, as you stand in the quiet of the barn surrounded by the gentle sounds of the horses, you feel a sense of purpose wash over you.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #mrs ohara writes shit #pedro pascal #the last of us

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