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shenanigans-and-imagines · 1 year ago

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I Want It All: Part 2

Part 1, Part 3

Astarion x AsexaulBard!Tav Masterlist

Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Tav, Astarion x Asexual!Reader, Astarion x Bard!Reader

Kissing, Angst, Asexual Angst, Allusions to Past Relationships

Summary: You and Astarion had been playing this little game of yours for a while; he pretends to care, you pretend not to fall for it. It’s easy, even fun at times. The trouble is, what happens the moment you can’t pretend anymore?

A/N: OMG, thank you to everyone who has read the first part. I was not expecting for it to blow up like it did. Hopefully this next part doesn't disappoint. And as always REBLOG AND COMMENT IF YOU LIKE THIS! I NEED VALIDATION TO SURVIVE!!! (Especially those I've tagged. I'd really like to know if you still like it.)

Word Count: 3.0K

How could ten feet of hallway feel like a death march? It was a question you never thought to pose to yourself, until you faced the distance between your door and Astarion’s.

What could you even say to him? An apology was always a good start, but for what? Neither of you made any formal declarations of intentions towards each other. That was the whole point of this game of yours, to keep the other guessing. It wasn’t like you outright lied to him or made promises you didn’t intend to keep.

So why did you feel so guilty?

Of course, you could be working yourself up over nothing. He could just as easily laugh in your face.

With all these thoughts swirling in your mind, you were almost surprised to see the light beneath his door reflecting on your boots.

A lump of panic tightened your throat. From the angle of the light, he wouldn’t be able to tell you were standing there. There was still time to turn around, put it off until morning–.

“The door is open, darling.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his voice. He didn’t sound upset or angry. Hell, he didn’t even sound smug. It was that rare gentleness he only took on when nobody else was looking. There were times it seemed to surprise even him. You didn’t stand a chance.

With a breath, you opened the door.

Warm candle light met your eyes, illuminating the room with a soft orange glow. The room itself was nothing special. Similar to yours it really only held the bed, desk and chair. The only noticeable difference was the widow facing due east, its curtains open allowing a view of the rain pittering against the window.

Astarion had insisted on this room. You understood why now. He always wanted to start the day facing the rising sun.

For a brief moment, you allowed the stillness of the moment to calm you, before turning your gaze to the man himself.

Oh thank the Gods, he was still dressed.

Astarion sat on the edge of the bed, in his most comfortable white ruffled shirt and black pants. Despite his casual appearance he still came off as nothing short of a prince awaiting his court. His lips were posed in a knowing smile as he regarded you, tilting his head to the side. The light of the candles caught his scarlet eyes, making them burn.

“Are you going to keep that open all night?” he asked.

Blinking, you turned to see your hand was still on the door handle. A little too quickly, you shut it behind you.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, not knowing what else to say.

“It’s quite alright,” he said, his tone only mildly teasing.

You stood there awkwardly, not really knowing where to put your hands. How in the hells were you meant to start a conversation after everything he saw? You were a bard for Gods’ sake. Talking was supposed to be something you were good at. Still the silence lingered, becoming worse with every second.

Astarion raised an eyebrow. “What are you still doing way over there?”

You shrugged, feeling the heat of embarrassment rise up your neck. “Is there somewhere else you want me?”

He gave you a playful smirk, offering his hand. “Come on. I’d promise not to bite, but…” He trailed off, widening his smile enough for his fangs to show.

Of all things, it was that small flash of teeth which put you at ease. He was poking fun at you. Surely that was a good sign.

Slowly, you walked toward him, taking his outstretched hand. He was cool to the touch. His fingers a mixture of manicured softness and well fought calluses, leaving your skin tingling in its wake. You centered in on sensation letting it the ground you back into the here and now.

He guided you to sit next to him, never letting his touch slip from yours.

“That was…quite a performance,” he said.

You gave a half hearted smile. It was as good a place to start as any, but you couldn’t look at him, instead focusing on the way his hand intertwined with yours. It should have frightened you or at the very least made you suspicious, but it felt too good. You didn’t want to break the spell.

“I wasn’t expecting it,” you said, honestly.

He gave a hum of agreement. “I don’t think any of us were.”

His hand trailed further up your arm, allowing his thumb to brush against the scars on your wrist.

A small shiver went through you. The scars on your neck had long since faded after the first night you let him feed on you. You’d made a point to only let him bite your wrist from that point onward. It was meant to hedge expectations. You’d thought a neck bite would make the act more charged than you intended. What a fool you were. Of course he’d find a way to make even the barest touch feel intimate.

“The melody alone…I’ve never heard its equal,” he continued.

You nodded, unsure what to do with his praise. You couldn’t dismiss it as easily as before. He sounded too sincere.

“Thank you,” you said, softly, “but I’m not sure how much credit I can take. It felt more like the song was playing me.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. How else could you explain such radiance?”

You felt now was the time for you to say something clever, but any words that might have formed fell heavy on your tongue as he moved your wrist to his lips, pressing a kiss to the raised marks of your skin. Your heart began to pound. No doubt he could feel every racing beat of it.

“Are you hungry?” you said, the words blurting out before you could stop them.

He laughed, the vibrations running down the length of your arm.

“Certainly,” he purred, turning his gaze to you. “But not for blood. I was hoping you’d let me indulge in some other parts of you.”

Panic struck you then, turning in your stomach as your eyes widened. “Astarion…”

“Don’t get shy on me now,” he said. He still held your wrist delicately in his hand allowing the other to brush lightly against your cheek.

Your breath shook and damn you to the hells if you knew exactly the cause.

“I saw you,” he whispered. “I saw what it is you truly desire. It was beautiful, passionate…starving, and all for me.” He leaned it close, the warmth of his breath dancing against your lips. “Am I wrong?”

Your mouth became dry as sand, forcing you to swallow. “Not entirely.”

“Would it surprise you then, to know I want the same thing?”

The sudden urge to laugh rose within you. Gods was this really happening? “I rather doubt that.”

“Then allow me to show you.”

Before you could say another word, he closed the small gap between you, pressing his lips to yours.

It was…nice; really nice, if you were being honest. His hand cupped your cheek, as if it were made of the finest porcelain. There was a care to his touch you hadn’t expected, leaving the door open for you to pull away. The assurance was enough to make you want to stay.

You’d always liked this part. In truth, you craved physical affection; holding hands, hugging, kissing, they had a way of making you feel so much closer to those you cared for. The trouble always came when people expected more.

He pressed further into you, teasing your mouth to spark a reaction.

You needed to pull away. If there was a time for you to stop, this was it. But, it did feel so good. Maybe you could indulge a little longer. It was just kissing.

Your own hand reached out, lacing your fingers through the hair on the back of his neck.

He hummed in approval, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened.

You let yourself get lost in him. It was easy to forget when he held you so reverently. For a moment you could convince yourself this was all there was.

A slight shift in his body. His hands grasping you just a little tighter and next thing you knew you were on your back with Astarion hovering over you.

His low moan poured into your mouth as he slotted himself between your legs and pressed his weight against you.

Fear spiked within you, forcing the air from your lungs. Shit, this was happening.

His lips left yours trailing kisses across your cheek to the underside of your jaw.

“Just relax,” he murmured. “I’ve got you. You’re doing so well for me.”

His lips met your neck and it was taking everything in your power to breathe normally.

This wasn’t what you wanted, but it didn’t feel bad. Astarion was being so tender with you. Maybe, if you went through with it, things wouldn’t have to change. You could still flirt and tease. Hell maybe you could convince him to simply hold you now and again. All you’d have to do is let him have something for himself. It was more than a fair trade. Besides, he was experienced in this, certainly more than others you’d been with. You could do this for him. It’s not like you hadn’t done it before.

His hands moved further down your body, teasing the edge of your shirt.

The memory of that twisted melody came into your heart filling you with dread. The way you had been so willing to morph yourself into what somebody else wanted for the sake of not being alone. Wasn’t this supposed to be different?

“Wait, stop,” you said, before you had time to question yourself.

To your relief, Astarion didn’t hesitate pulling his hands away as if they just caught fire.

“Are you alright?” he asked. “Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head, that familiar guilt twisting inside you at his concern. “No. You didn’t do anything, I just…” You swallowed. You weren’t going to cry. Not now. Gods, you were such an idiot. “Could you…could you move off me? Please.”

His brow furrowed, but he did not question you as he pulled himself away.

Cool air rushed over you, pulling a sigh of relief from your lips. For a long time you just laid there, calming the rush of adrenaline pumping through your blood. It was over. It was all over.

With an effort, you pulled yourself up to a sitting position. Out of the corner of your eye Astarion watched you, his expression unreadable. You’d expect nothing less from him.

“I’m sorry,” you managed.

“I don’t need an apology,” he said, firmly, “but I would like an explanation.”

Slowly, as if to keep from frightening an cornered animal, he turned his body to face yours, making a point to keep a respectable distance. He really wasn’t going to make this easier for you.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked.

You shook your head fervently. “No. No, you were perfect. That’s rather the problem.”

His lips turned into a hard line, clearly unsure how to take your statement. His eyes then narrowed, leaning closer to more carefully examine your features.

“You’re not cursed, are you?” he asked, suddenly.

The question caught you off guard, forcing a laugh. “What?”

“You know, something something, any man who touches you below the belt is smited. That kind of thing.”

You shook your head, baffled as to where this conversation was headed. “No.”

He nodded, in consideration “Alright then, any diseases you neglected to inform me about?”

“No.”

“Hells, don’t tell me you’re a virgin.”

“Gods no!” you snapped, feeling your whole body go flush.

“Then what is it? One second you were there and the next…” he trailed off, before forcing a deep breath. “Look, I’m not angry, but if there is something wrong, I’d prefer to know.”

“Nothing is wrong,” you insisted.

“So why the hesitation?” he pressed. “You find me desirable. I’ve made clear I find you desirable. We’ve been dancing around each other for weeks and even have a proper mattress for the occasion. The only conclusion I can come to is there’s something you’re not telling me.”

You opened your mouth only to close it again, wracking your brain on how to start this.

To your shock, Astarion remained silent. It wasn’t the quiet entitled anger you had received in the past or even idle confusion. He looked like he truly wanted to know.

You let out a long sigh. There was no getting around it now.

“I do find you desirable,” you said. “The trouble is, physically speaking…I don’t really.”

He raised a doubtful eyebrow. “Is this your way of telling me you don’t think I’m pretty?”

You had to laugh, shaking your head. “Astarion, I promise, you are possibly the most beautiful man I’ve ever met. But that doesn’t factor into why I desire you.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“No,” you said plainly. “It never has. Not with anyone.”

He cocked his head, his eyes caught between his natural suspicion and genuine surprise. “Never?”

You shrugged.

“Above such things are you?” he said, dryly.

“It’s not as if I’ve taken a vow of chastity,” you snapped. “I’m not trying to achieve some arbitrary moral purity. I just never felt attracted to anyone in that way. I can look at someone and know objectively they’re beautiful or handsome or any number of other descriptors, but that need, that hunger so many people describe, it just never clicked.”

He continued to stare at you blankly before his mouth turned into a hard line.

“So when I was kissing you, just now. You didn’t feel anything?”

“Not especially,” you said, a little guilty. “Don’t get me wrong, it was pleasant. I do like being close to you. It’s just the things kissing leads to I’m not a fan of.”

You didn’t know what to make of the look that shot across his face. He seemed lost, somewhere far away, before blinking back to the present.

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” he asked.

“I meant to,” you assured. “I should have. I just…sometimes forget I don’t need a reason to say no.”

You took a breath, willing yourself to calm.

“I’ve spent a lot of my life thinking some part of me was broken. That if I waited long enough or tried hard enough, I’d feel the things I’m supposed to feel. I’ve come to terms with the fact I never will. I’m not upset about it. It just means that what I want, what I desire from another person, it’s different than most.”

He took that in, his red eyes peering deep into yours as if truly looking at you for the first time.

“So, if it’s not my body you desire, what else could you possibly want?”

You stared at him as his expression suddenly hardened. His whole body turned on edge as if waiting for you to cast the ending blow.

“What?” he prompted, sharply.

You shook your head. “You really don’t understand, do you?”

He gave you an incredulous look.

Keeping your movements slow and obvious, leaned closer to him. You reached out, moving towards his hand.

He didn’t pull away, but the guarded expression never faded.

You took that as a good sign, allowing your hand to rest on top of his as you looked him straight in the eyes.

“Astarion, when I say I desire you, I mean all of you,” you said, keeping your tone as clear and open so there could be no doubt of the truth of your words. “I want your attentions. I want your adoration. I want your petty jealousies and loud annoyances. I want your teasing. I want your promises and your secrets. I want nights filled with your laughter and mornings in your arms. I want to feel your heart in my chest. I want to know it beats for me. And in return, I want to give you mine. So no, I’m not especially interested in your body. But for the rest? I’m insatiable.”

He only stared at you. You supposed you should take it as a triumph. You’d found an effective way to shut him up at least; declare your overwhelming love for him.

“I know,” you said, softly. “It’s a lot. I’m a lot. But, you don’t have to worry. I don’t expect anything.”

“You don’t?”

You gave a self deprecating smile.“Despite all evidence to the contrary, I’m not an idiot. I know whatever…favor you gave me, it wasn’t real.”

“That’s not true,” he said quickly.

You gave him a doubtful look.

He grimaced. “Alright, maybe some of it was, but–.”

“It’s fine,” you cut off. “I know what game I was playing. I’m just not very good at it.”

You pulled your hand away, letting your eyes fall from his. Despite the coolness of his touch, somehow your hand felt even colder at the loss of it.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice unnaturally unsure of itself.

You tried to smile. “Don’t be. I’ll get over it. I always do.”

Something in his eyes flicked in the firelight. His expression turned contemplative as he looked deeply into your eyes.

“I rather doubt that,” he murmured.

A sharp pain buried its way into your chest at his words, not because they were cruel or came from a place of arrogance, but because they were undeniably true.

You pushed yourself off the bed, forcing down the well of emotion threatening to burst from your eyes at any moment.

“I should go,” you said. “Goodnight.”

You made your way towards the door only to stop at the sound of your name. It was said so gently, like a desperate prayer.

You didn’t reach for it, not this time. It already burned too much.

Without another word, you stepped out into the hallway, shutting the door behind you leaving nothing but dark and silence.

Tag List:

@yaimlight, @hallowedandhungry, @bluestuesday, @meggsssart, @murmoruno, @prophetszendo, @cabbit17, @sunset-sunrise-sunshine, @isharaneith, @thisisew, @easy-there-leftovers, @ohhnoimbisexual, @dolceaspidenera, @dork-of-the-universe, @righteous-scamp, @ambrolyer, @our-little-shared-infinity, @baldursgateslittlestar, @pkail, @nanaoise08squad, @becksynthetic, @deliriumcrow, @badgerstorms-art, @taraiel, @writingmysanity

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #bladur's gate iii #bg3 #astarion bg3 #astarion baldurs gate #bard!reader #asexual!reader #asexual #bard!tav #astarion x ace!tav #astarion x evie

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drchucktingle · 1 year ago

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queer horror memory lane

i know this screenshot above is just way of some algorithm but seeing these books together i am so honored youve allowed me to open my heart and trot out my art in this unique way. having two well received queer horror books (and third on way) is amazing given where i started my trot. thank you

easy to talk on 'death of unique art' these days but if you look at my story it is powerful example that buckaroos have a taste for challenging or untraditional figures in art. this is NOT to my credit, this is to YOUR credit. YOU have supported queer autistic art. i am so moved

i am already a pretty optimistic bud but still BLOWN AWAY by way my trot has been embraced over time. i recognize my perspective is 'strange' to many but to see the way this unique way was once treated with irony and now sincerity has bloomed in its place. it brings tears of joy

as i trot down my QUEER HORROR memory lane i am going to repost TRAILER for each book just because i have been basking in these memories and recalling the slow embrace of this timeline around me. thank you for allowing me this space i am so humbled and honored. LOVE IS REAL

STRAIGHT

When a strange tear in the cosmos appears within Earth’s annual path, the consequences are disastrous. For one night a year, the vast majority of humans now undergo a frightening mental change, transforming into hateful, rage-fueled zombies who will stop at nothing to satiate their desire for brutality.

While not much is understood about this horrific mass hysteria, the demographic it effects is very specific: cisgender straight people.

A few years after the first of these tragic events, four friends from across the queer spectrum look for safety in solitude, hunkering down in a remote desert cabin for what is now known as Saturation Day. With a vaccine available for straight people to curb their violent episodes, some predict the worst is over. Others aren’t so sure.

As night falls, it becomes clear that survival isn’t guaranteed this Saturation Day.

GET STRAIGHT HERE

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CAMP DAMASCUS

From beloved internet icon Chuck Tingle, Camp Damascus is a searing and earnest horror debut about the demons the queer community faces in America, the price of keeping secrets, and finding the courage to burn it all down. Welcome to Neverton, Montana: home to a God-fearing community with a heart of gold. Nestled high up in the mountains is Camp Damascus, the self-proclaimed “most effective” gay conversion camp in the country. Here, a life free from sin awaits. But the secret behind that success is anything but holy. And they’ll scare you straight to hell.

GET CAMP DAMASCUS HERE

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BURY YOUR GAYS

Misha knows that chasing success in Hollywood can be hell.

But finally, after years of trying to make it, his big moment is here: an Oscar nomination. And the executives at the studio for his long-running streaming series know just the thing to kick his career to the next level: kill off the gay characters, "for the algorithm," in the upcoming season finale.

Misha refuses, but he soon realizes that he’s just put a target on his back. And what’s worse, monsters from his horror movie days are stalking him and his friends through the hills above Los Angeles.

Haunted by his past, Misha must risk his entire future―before the horrors from the silver screen find a way to bury him for good.

PREORDER BURY YOUR GAYS HERE

youtube

i am blessed by your support, your love, and your kindness. cannot believe how lucky i am to trot with you in all in this way and i cant WAIT to see what the future of this timeline holds for us. thank you for proving love with me from the past to the future

#queer horror #horror #tingleverse #lgbtqia #straight #camp damascus #bury your gays #chuck tingle #love is real #Youtube

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angelwings-crossbowstrings · 3 months ago

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Whumptober 2024 No. 16, No. 19, No. 22

Prompt 16: Swamp

Prompt 19: Abandoned cabin

Prompt 22: Tourniquet

Warnings: Animal death; severe injuries

A/N: Sorry for the abrupt ending. This one has been a work in progress since the beginning of the month and I just can’t get it to go any further. Maybe I’ll continue with a second part later.

gif is not mine - google

Neither human nor beast had moved since you had spotted the predator—a dragon by its own right. The alligator’s eyes reflected both the water’s surface and a sinister promise. Daryl, the water easily reaching his shoulders with his feet touching the swamp floor, was breathing quickly through his nose but remained otherwise motionless. The only thing you could see in his eyes was naked, implacable fear.

“Daryl.” You whimpered.

“Get outta the water.” You knew better than to argue and moved the slightest inch to turn before he spoke again. “Slow. Don’t splash.” He added.

“Okay.” You tried to keep your movements fluid, deliberate. Each step beneath the murky surface felt heavy and so slow that you thought you would never feel the water receding around your upper body. You momentarily considered shedding your backpack but decided against it. There was a strange noise behind you but you kept your eyes on the overgrown shoreline. “Daryl?”

“Doin’ great. Keep goin’.”

You nodded and maintained your glacial pace, bending at the waist as you began to leave the water in order to minimize the droplets that would unsettle the surface. The foreboding sense of being followed gnarled and twisted in your gut, and you allowed yourself to believe it was Daryl inching along behind you.

“Almost there.” The tremble in his tone was easy to detect. You could also pick up that he was nowhere near behind you.

“Daryl, how will you—” You didn’t see the debris. Of course you couldn’t through the dingy water. You had barely tripped and hit your knees when all hell broke loose around you.

“Run, run, GO!” Came Daryl’s roar, a half a second before you heard and felt the chaos erupting. You were moving within milliseconds of his command, making the mistake of looking over your shoulder.

“Shit!” A second gator had—at some point—surfaced, its tail whipping side-to-side to carry it toward you at a speed you would have never been able to outswim. Clambering onto the shore, the weeds soggy and giving beneath your feet, you ran a few meters ahead, trying hard to ignore the sounds that echoed beyond what could be your approaching death.

The smaller alligator met land with a speed you hadn’t known the creatures capable of outside the water, its four legs carrying that open maw toward you faster than you were prepared to counter. With your only choices being abandon Daryl or fight, you made the only one with which your heart could live.

Waiting until the last second, just as the animal lunged for you, you leapt to the side, twisting your body to throw your hunting knife. Those lessons with Daryl had paid off. The alligator slid forward until the momentum waned before going still, your knife protruding from its left eye.

There was no time to catch your breath. “Daryl!” Between the heavy splashing, you would catch sight of a tail or an arm, the glint of sunlight off a blade. He was fighting for his life and you had no idea how to help him. Did you go back in the water? It’s what you wanted to do. There were likely other gators being attracted by the frenzy. Maybe you could keep them—

“Y’alright?!”

“Oh, Daryl, thank god.” He was already wading toward you, shaking out his left hand while his right still held his knife. There was a decent amount of blood hitting the water with each flick. “Where did—is it dead?”

The archer shrugged a shoulder. “Dunno. Ain’t waitin’ ‘round to find out neither.”

You were already reaching for him before he stepped out onto the mud, your hands latching onto his vest to pull him forward into a kiss that had him gasping against your mouth before just as quickly settling to return the gesture. After a few breathless heartbeats, his forehead rested against yours.

“Fancy knife work there.”

You opened your eyes to find his still closed but you knew what he spoke of without separating from him. “Learned from the best.” You peppered his lips with several more chaste kisses before finally straightening to go retrieve your weapon. “We should probably take a look at—” The words died on your tongue, dissolved by horror and fear.

Why hadn’t you urged him away from the water? Why hadn’t he moved further on his own? As the strong jaws clamped down around Daryl’s lower leg, the answers you sought no longer mattered. The archer smacked the ground with a shout, attempting to roll over while reaching for his knife. A sharp pull on his leg foiled his attempt.

“Daryl!” You leapt forward, grabbing for his hand. Your fingers brushed his just as he was yanked into the water, the gator letting go just long enough to seek a better hold, teeth sinking into the flesh of Daryl’s right thigh. He let out a pained yell that followed him beneath the tenebrous marsh. “Daryl, no!”

The surface bubbled and rippled before going still, your heart twisting before it sank. The swamps were silent as you stepped into the shallows, scanning, watching, praying.

“Daryl.” You whispered frantically, taking another step into the water. If you could do something for Daryl then you’d gladly let death come for you. If you could do nothing, then it could come all the same. Your feet slid forward again, your eyes darting, desperate for just a glimpse of your archer.

When the surface broke, it was a tail first, then the gator’s belly. Its jaws still held Daryl’s leg as it rolled, his body twisting to turn with the beast. He was alive, and he was trying to remain that way while keeping his limb intact. The gator rolled a second time with Daryl gasping in a frenzied breath before he was plunged once again.

Gripping the hilt of your knife, you dove under, throwing any consideration of your own safety to the wayside. It was impossible to see below resulting in you reaching for either Daryl or the gator. When you felt something crash into your hand, you made a grab for it and rolled to the surface, quickly opening your eyes to find yourself holding Daryl’s belt. Bending at the waist, you wrapped your legs around him as the movement continued, the gator relentlessly seeking to tear the archer’s leg from his body.

Above water again, you sucked in a breath and found your target, stabbing at the animal’s head with your knife. You felt it drive home and pulled it free as the rolls continued, repeating the action over and over with nothing but a prayer that you managed the kill and doing so without hitting Daryl.

The momentum slowed before stopping completely, the water tinted red as you clawed your way to the surface, reaching down to grab Daryl before releasing the hold you had maintained with your legs.

“Daryl.”

He broke the surface with an agonized groan, groping for you while you held on urgently.

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” Backstroking while pulling him along, you managed to get him to the shoreline and struggled to your feet with your hands beneath his arms. You pulled and pulled, dragging him as far from the water as you could manage. He helped as much as he could with his uninjured leg, digging the heel of his boot into the ground and kicking back. “Let me see.”

The flesh of his thigh was torn, flayed at the edges of two wounds that were at least six inches long. They were deep but showed no bone. His lower leg was not unaffected but lacked the severity of the other injury.

“Fuck.” You covered your mouth for a moment, watching him collapse onto his back, chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath. Shedding your bag, you first grabbed a bottle of water, setting to work at cleaning the wound. When he shot upward with a shout, you began to mutter a mantra of I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.

“Goddamnit!” Daryl exclaimed and fell back again, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. The wound continued to bleed heavily, gaping open in such a way that seized you with panic, grasping for any remembrance of your medical training.

“Stop the bleeding. Clean the wound.” You could attempt to stitch it later, once the blood clotted—if you could even manage to pull the skin together. Gauze would never cover it but you had little choice but to try, your clothing too wet with the filthy water to aid in staunching the flow. You prayed as you dug through your bag that the harder exterior of the medical kit had protected the contents.

Your prayers were answered, the supplies were dry. With quick movements, you unbuckled your belt and pulled it free of the loops. Sliding it beneath his leg resulted in a groan and grimace of pain but you couldn’t stop, not until it was pulled tight and fastened above the wound.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You repeated as you released your makeshift tourniquet, satisfied with the visible decrease of blood flow. “You’ll bleed out if I don’t.” Grabbing another bottle of water, you removed the cap and quickly emptied it over the torn flesh, wincing in sympathy. Alcohol would have been preferred but much more painful. Still, you worked with what was available.

“Do—do whatcha gotta do.” Daryl panted. He pressed his palms into the soggy ground and tried to push himself up, making it only to his elbows before he was out of breath. His left hand was still steadily weeping but at least he had managed to keep all of his fingers. “Christ.” He whispered, his wide eyes obtaining their first look at the wound.

“I know.” You felt sick. What could you do beyond what had been done already? “We have to get out of here. Find the others and get back to Alexandria.” Square after square of gauze was applied before you wrapped the grizzly wound with the only roll you had to secure and press things into place.

“S’gettin’ dark.” He commented, head tipped back. He was staring upward toward the canopy as his breathing slowed but failed to return to normal. “Can’t be walkin’ through this shit at night.”

“We can’t stay here, Daryl.” You argued. “There’s more, you know there are.” The swamps of Macon, Georgia were abundant with wildlife, including a healthy affluence of alligators. You were going to absolutely murder Rick for this mission when you and Daryl made it back.

When. Not if.

“S’try an’ find a place ain’t around the water.” He was still staring upward, dazed. “Ain’t got long to search ‘fore it gets dark.” When he didn’t make an attempt to move, you gathered all you could into your backpack, save for the knife you secured in the holster on your thigh. You even managed to put Daryl’s knife in its place on this good leg without any acknowledgment from the hunter.

“Daryl.” You tried, watching the quick but shallow pants of his breath. His skin was still wet with swamp water, but was looking pale. “Daryl.” You attempted more forcefully.

“Hmm?” He finally rolled his head toward you, the personification of calm. “Oh.” He seemed to finally catch on and started pushing himself upward, making it to a seated position only after you had grabbed beneath his arms and helped. Once it was clear he would not fold over onto his lap, you let go.

“Gotta get you on your feet.”

“Ain’t gonna get far.” The way he was behaving was beginning to worry you, his lack of panic—even pain.

“Daryl.” You crouched in front of him, taking another look at his leg. Red was already seeping through the bandage, a dark circle soaked into the soil below his thigh. “I need you with me.” You said sternly, cupping his face with both hands. His gaze was cloudy, unfocused, and only seemed to clear the slightest fraction when you gave him a gentle shake. “Are you with me?”

He blinked, his brow furrowing. “Yeah.” He rasped. “Yeah, m’with ya.” Then he was actually trying to lever to his feet without your help, your hands frantically scrambling for purchase anywhere they could to provide support. To his credit, he made little noise beyond grunts and one sobbing rush of air once he was upright.

“Okay, okay. Here we go.” He staggered into you while you assisted in draping his arm across your shoulders. “That wasn’t so hard.” You quipped, grinning up at him when those pretty blues glared at you. You had to keep things light.

“Think—think you’re funny?” He grunted with the first supported step, his hand grasping for a firm grip on your shoulder.

“I know I am.”

“Gonna hafta—file a—a complaint.”

The steps the two of you managed were small and hindered by the struggle of pulling along his right leg. Between blood loss and the tight tourniquet, it was amazing he could feel anything at all. Still, you trucked onward, boots sinking into the mushy ground. There was just too much water all around, too many threats. You kept your eyes peeled for danger, Daryl’s head now resting against the top of your own. He was getting weaker, slowing down, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep him going.

When he began to shiver, it wasn’t a gradual transition. One minute he was simply a weight against your side and the next, he was vibrating and his teeth chattering. It was anything but cold. It could only mean one thing.

“You’re losing too much blood.” You commented, not really with the intent of him hearing. If he did, he didn’t respond.

The pale light that had been guiding your path had since receded before disappearing completely, leaving the two of you shrouded in darkness. Each step had to be calculated, a gentle touch of the toe of your boot to test the integrity of the ground before you would drag him forward. If you fell into the swamp water now, it would be impossible to pull him out.

Glowing eyes surrounded you, the reminder that more of the apex predators awaited a single lapse in judgment, one mistake.

“Talk to me, Daryl.” He was growing heavier and heavier, harder and harder to pull along even if the ground had been sturdy.

“Called a—a death roll.”

“What?” You queried, truly curious about the topic even if you couldn’t pay him your undivided attention. You stepped across a downed limb, your hands never leaving him before you had to nearly drag him across after you.

“What that—gator—what it did. S’a death roll.” He stopped talking for a moment, gaining his balance, or at least enough strength to keep him from toppling over. “S’how they—how they rip off chunks,” he sucked in a shaky breath, “to eat.”

The information sat like a stone in your gut. It really had been trying to sever his leg, less interested in killing him and more concerned with tearing off a hunk of him to swallow down.

“Well.” It was the only thing you could think of to say. The silence ensued and dragged on, your hope being sapped out and left in the trail of disturbed mud his boot was carving with each pull of his useless leg. He was less walking and more limping along beside you in graceless movements that did little more than keep him moving.

By the time the old cabin—more of a shack, really—came into view, you were barely holding Daryl up. Your strength was waning, your body exhausted. You could hear the moans and gnashing teeth of walkers stuck in the marsh, your consciousness just too lagged to give thanks for their inability to reach you and the archer. The very thought of defending the two of you in your current state made your body ache.

“Daryl. Daryl, it’s a cabin.” You jostled him with your shoulder, relief flooding your senses when he raised his head, albeit slowly. His only reply was a drawn out hum. “We can make it. Come on.” Drawing upon your reserves, you pulled him along. “Hello?” You called, maneuvering Daryl up the dilapidated steps to the door. There was no response, no candlelight. Abandoned. Or so you had hoped before you heard a thump against the door that was followed by a snarling growl. “Of course!”

The walker—an old man—had a bullet wound through his cheek and you would have bet the entry wound was below his chin. He had missed. Maybe he had died quickly. You wished that for him. Without dwelling, you lured him out, keeping his focus away from the man you had placed on the floor of the porch, behind an old rocker. Your knife met the dead man’s temple at the top of the steps, the body toppling onto the ground and out of your way.

“Done and done.” You nodded and sheathed your weapon, trudging tiredly toward where Daryl lay prone. “Hey, you still with me?” You patted the side of his boot on his good leg, chuckling when he gave you a weak thumbs up. “Let’s get inside.”

Easier said than done, but once the two of you were safe behind the closed door, you allowed your body the moment of rest it needed, sprawling out next to Daryl on the floor. He was still shivering, breaths shallow, and eyes barely open. Nope, nevermind. You were up immediately, searching for anything you could use.

A dusty blanket, some dried meat, and a useless med kit were all you managed to scavenge but it was enough. At least for the moment. You wrapped Daryl up tightly inside the blanket after beating the dust from it outside. It would be enough to keep him warm. Your bag was situated beneath his feet, keeping the blood flow closer to his heart. And once you had his head on your lap, you set to work trying to get food and water into him.

“You need to drink. You’ve lost a lot of blood.” You argued, brushing the sweaty strands of hair away from his face. “You’re already in shock.”

“M’fine. You have it.”

“If you’re not drinking any, then I’m—”

He groaned. “Fine.” He accepted a few sips before turning away his head. Satisfied, you drank a few of your own and placed the bottle next to your hip. You only had that bottle and one other. That was a worry for another time.

“Do you think you can navigate us outta here when the sun comes up?” You asked. You tore off a small piece of meat and tapped his chin. He didn’t argue and accepted the offering, allowing you to lift his head slightly so he could swallow.

“Damn sure gonna try.” His voice was raspy and tired, his eyes remaining closed. The incident and injury had left him drained. You wouldn’t be sleeping that night, that much was certain.

“Alright. Then you need to rest.” With the meat wrapped and inside your bag, you settled against the wall, humming and running your fingers through his damp hair.

The cabin was small, everything in one room. A stove on one side, a broken bed on the other. You distantly wondered why anyone would want to live such an isolated life with nothing but beavers and gators for company.

Daryl groaned from your lap, your expression falling when you saw the pain etched into his sleeping face. There was no way the man would be fit to lead the two of you anywhere. You’d be lucky if he was even still alive when the sun rose. Your best bet was to stay put, keep him warm and hydrated until the others found you. Maybe you could go out and—no. You couldn’t leave him behind.

How would the two of you get out of this one?

#whumptober2024 #no.16 #swamp #no.19 #abandoned cabin #no.22 #tourniquet #animal death #severe injury #the walking dead #fic #murda writes #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon the walking dead

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grippingbeskar · 2 years ago

Text

duality

: ̗̀➛ joel miller x fem!reader

warnings: explicit content 18+ (mxf, f receiving, dirty talk, joel being a king as per usual) swearing, mentions of death, mentions of canon typical violence!

a/n: hii! this was based on this request right here - oh my god. i am obsessed with this, i really hope i did this justice! i kind of just started writing and went where it took me lmao. its all just smut at this point so like don't look to hard. also thank you to @everybirdfellsilent for the title name and answering my question "how do i write this?" with a simple "why not write both?!" you are a queen.

✩ ੈ * ⚬ ʚ♡ɞ ⚬ * ੈ✩‧₊ ₊‧ ✩ ੈ * ⚬ ʚ♡ɞ ⚬ * ੈ✩‧₊ ₊‧ ✩ ੈ * ⚬ ʚ♡ɞ ⚬ * ੈ✩

“Joel… what time is it?” You keep your eyes screwed shut when you begin to fight the muddiness of deep sleep away, but the early morning sunlight in Jackson always sneaks it’s way through. You stretch out, reaching for him in a natural reflex, and instead of answering you he just presses closer. You keep your eyes shut, letting your other senses guide your hands to his shoulders, enjoying the feeling of him under your palms.

You could hardly open your eyes right now, but you could do this. Lay here with him— you could do that easily. You and Joel had a string of long days recently, and you’d hoped, or at the very least expected that he’d be so tired he’d sleep up until the last possible second.

Apparently you were wrong, as you feel him shift under your hands to the point you lose your hold on him. He kisses you once on the lips, light and feather soft, and you smile sleepily, toes curling at the gentle touch.

“Mornin’.” His voice rumbles through you, low and brassy, waking your bones before your brain could catch up. As his hair tickles the skin of your neck, you can feel him moving lower, the warmth of his body leaving your chest and hovering over your stomach.

You reach for him blindly, and he guides you back even when you sit up on your elbows and peak one eye at him. You watch him move, his own eyes still half lidded, but his hands more awake than ever. They slowly slide over your hips, drawing faint patterns with his fingertips. The warmth of his rough palms move further up over your tummy, pawing at you to lay down on your back. ‘Relax’, he whispers, and your chest tightens. He moves you languidly, using your half conscious state to mould you where he wants to put you, and you let him, no resistance in your muscles.

With a hand still sliding up and down your bare skin, he leans down close enough you can feel the touch of his nose on your cheek. Before you can move to take control, he dips his head. First down to your jaw, the heat of his mouth making you shiver when he kisses along all the sensitive spots. He’s light and quick, your delayed reactions making it easy for him to move without interruption. You wonder how long he’d been awake. Waiting for you to stir, just so he could see you squirm.

His tongue licks indulgent lines further down your body, teasing your skin with his lips following suit. He starts at your collarbone, then tucks the fabric of your shirt higher so he can see you bare below him. The blanket covers over his head, but the light is strong enough that you can see his eyes watching your reaction as he plants soft kisses down your chest. You swear he smirks when you arch your back, nearly groaning at the light but not nearly enough pressure.

Your hands finally wake themselves when he mouths at the skin of your lower stomach, brushing through the soft curls on the top of his head. He hums against you, eyes flicking up with warmth lining them, and smiles slightly. The sight tugs at a string of your racing heart, and you keep your voice low when you manage to speak.

“Joel, let me…” You fade off, eyes fluttering as you attempt to bring him back up to you. You want him to feel good too— so as much as you love where this is going, you know the two of you can’t have very long this morning, and you want to make the most of it. “C’mere.”

He shakes his head, mouth too busy to reply as it dives into the newly exposed skin of your thighs. At some point he’d taken your underwear off— or maybe he’d done it in your sleep, making sure you were ready for him in the morning.

You’d both been exhausted last night, so as badly as you’d wanted him, you knew neither of you could keep your eyes open for more than twenty seconds. Joel had grumbled a few curse words at how he couldn’t even hold himself up, and as soon as your heads hit the pillow, and you curled in on his chest light a weighted blanket, you were both out like a light.

Joel was clearly making up for lost time. Slowly, he spreads your legs, his hot breath fanning against your core. The feeling makes you unconsciously try to close yourself from him— the feeling and the way his eyes were staring so intensely at the most intimate part of you.

“Joel, come here—“ You try again, and his hair brushes the inside of your thighs when his head shakes again. His eyes look to you, and they almost look… pleading.

“Please, baby. I need this. Let me.” He sounds half broken— his voice cracking and hands gripping your hips. His hold wasn’t harsh, still keeping those gentle, sweet touches he’d started with, but it was enough to hold you down and keep you right where he had you. “I’ll make you feel so good, I swear. So… so fuckin’ good. Don’t I always?”

His shoulders press you open wider, leaving no room for insecurity. You just nod your head as he stares up at you, wide eyed, waiting for permission. The lines of concern in his forehead disappear when he sees you agree, chest deflating like he was relieved.

He drags the tip of his nose lightly along your inner thigh, and you can feel your legs already shaking in anticipation. It was one thing Joel did so well; he almost didn’t know he did it. Making you wait. All day, he would work you up so subtly— soft touches, intense stares across the field. Words whispered only to you, so any reaction you had would seem out of line. And then here… indulging his every want and need while you sat patiently, waiting for him to decide when, and where, and how.

You’d do it over and over again, because you knew what came of it. What came when you did exactly what he wanted. Sometimes it was fun to fight him back, be a bit of a brat about it, but right here, when he was working you up so nice and asking so desperately— there wasn’t a damn thing in the world worth that.

“Fuck, baby you’re so pretty.” His teeth replace his nose, tracing the same line along the opposite thigh. His fingers massage circles into your hips as he feels you fidget and shake, the world still spinning slowly above you. “You’re gonna take it so well for me this mornin’, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. Yeah. A-anything you want. I just—“ Your breath hitches when he kisses closer to where you’re all but aching for him, right in the join between your leg and pussy. “I need—“

He groans into you, never giving you a chance to finish your sentence as he buries his tongue between your legs. You cry out louder than you mean to, the hand not buried in Joel’s messy hair slapping over your open mouth. Joel smiles against you, tongue swirling around your clit in the way he knows makes you dizzy with pleasure.

Everything was too hot. It was winter in Jackson, snow falling gently onto the windowsill, but the blanket over you mixed with the heat Joel was spreading up your stomach was too much. Your back arched and he took the change in direction with eagerness. Groaning your name, he flattened his tongue and caught your eyes before they rolled back into your head, his eyebrows furrowed and concentrated.

“Oh, god… Joel. Joel, Joel—“ It was all you could think of to say, the pleasure shooting white hot sparks up your spine and sliding you further down the bed into Joel’s onslaught.

He was messy. Joel ate you out with an enthusiasm you never found anywhere else. Maybe it was the fact that there was nothing good outside the four walls you’d both found yourself in, the rest of the world cold compared to the warmth of your bed— or maybe he just fucking loved it as much as he always said.

Whether he did this for you or for himself, Joel knew exactly how to build you up; it was so quick you couldn’t prepare for it. His hands held your hips tight as you squirmed— grinding your hips forward to match his pace as he let you use him to chase your release. The sounds he was making were only spurring you closer— slurred words of praise hardly audible, his voice horse and breaking like he could hardly manage them.

“Good— fuck, you taste good.” Each word is muffled underneath you, but it hits you hard in the chest. Being praised by anyone made your heart flutter, but when it was Joel? Capable, stoic, hard-as-nails Joel? It was entirely different. A whole other ball game. And he fucking knew it. “You close, baby. Fuck, I know you gotta be. So tight…”

“Oh fuck. Fuck, I’m so close…” You whimper and he hums in response, the vibrations pushing you over the edge. Your fingers gripped his hair harshly, his mouth only working harder to keep its lock on you. He wrapped his lips around your clit, eyes fluttering open halfway to watch you, and the sight is what undid you.

“That’s it. Fuck, there’s those eyes…” You hear Joel mutter but you can’t form words to reply. Everything was on fire, your stomach locking tight as the waves of pleasure wrapped you into a ball and burst over every inch of skin. It was cliche, but it felt like fucking fireworks went off in your chest, Joel’s hands an anchor keeping you from taking off with them.

He was halfway up your body when you came back to it, kissing and touching you so gently you could have cried if you had the energy. It was moments like these that he was the most vulnerable— where he couldn’t get enough of you, indulged himself in you, but did it with such sweetness and… well, love, that you knew the man he didn’t think he was anymore was still in there.

“So pretty. Sound so damn pretty when you cum for me.” He whispers against your mouth before kissing you hungrily. It’s teeth and tongue, a mix of you and him on your lips as he pulls away to look at you, catching your bottom lip between his teeth.

Your hands reach down to tug lightly at his boxers, and he huffs, shaking his head against your mouth.

“M’not done, baby.” His voice makes you shiver all over again, pleasure still stirring low and hot in your tummy. “S’fuckin’ good.”

“I can’t, Joel…” You whimper, his hand ever so slightly brushing between your legs. You jolt upwards, your body betraying your words.

“Yeah, you can. You can f’me, yeah?” He was already moving down, ignoring your whines as he made his way back to his favourite spot in this house. He was quicker this time, knowing you’d still be sensitive.

It was addicting. He couldn’t get enough of the sounds you made, the way you tasted— it was like the best game he’d ever played. Joel was an adrenaline junkie— he knew it. He was smart about it, but he longed for that rush of endorphins when he was winning a fight or putting bullets into bodies. Out of all the shit he’d done, though, nothing compared to this. The best adrenaline rush he’d ever felt was right here, hearing you scream his name as he tasted every fucking inch you of he could manage.

He was messier this time. Wrapping his mouth around you and swirling his tongue in quick, mind-numbing movements that had your fingers burying deeper into his hair. He nearly came at the feeling of it— you, trying your hardest not to hurt him but still yanking him into you, hardly giving him an inch to pull away. Not that he’d every fuckin’ dream of being dragged away from you now.

“Joel… too much. Fuck— I’m…I—“ He bucked his hips against the mattress, the way you whine his name is like a stab at his chest every time. His nose brushes against your clit again as he tastes you deeper, your voice broken and tapering off into barely there words.

He knows you’d stop him if it was really too much. He knows if he pulled away right now you’d drag him right back where he wants to be, where he knows he’s fucking good at being. Joel wants you closer— all day, he can’t fucking find it in himself to drag you under his arm or kiss you like he wants in front of all those people.

He was too possessive.

None of them get to see you like this, how your eyes get all soft when he kisses you, and how you sigh his name when your body moulds to his. No one else gets to see this. He’s the only one that can break you like this. So when he has you? He doesn’t stop until you make him.

“Just a little more f’me.” Joel’s low, cracking tone sends a violent wave of pleasure skittering across your stomach, butterflies erupting at the sound of him.

His movements weren’t timed anymore, still just as indulgent, but he was losing his control. His hands were tighter now, fighting against the surges of your body off the mattress. You hoped it would leave marks behind— proof of how badly he’d needed you this morning. How much he wanted you to Stay. Put.

“Baby, I can’t—“ You choke out, a hold on his hair so hard you swear you might rip it out.

“Mmhmm.” Is all he rumbles against you, and you think he speeds up, or does something different, or maybe he just looks at you again— because you drown in the onslaught of whatever it was as you feel the familiar rush of pleasure all over again.

This was something different. Everything tightened and released, and you could feel how wet you were— a damp mess underneath you only present when you could feel your heart begin to slow again. Joel doesn’t move from his spot, arms still wrapped around your thighs, fingers drawing slow circles into the shaking muscles.

“God, baby. Fuckin’… never get tired of seein’ that.” He wasn’t looking at you, at anything really. His eyes were shut, forehead pressed to your inner thigh as he tried and failed to catch his breath. “You feel good? You there?”

“Mm.” You push out, feeling the warmth of his laugh between your legs. “Can’t… can’t feel my legs.”

“S’okay. You’re not goin’ anywhere.” His eyes open again, half lidded, and he begins a slow descent, mouthing the bruises he’s left behind as he sinks down. Your back bends off the bed, but he presses you down with a gentle hand. “Lie back.”

“Joel… wait, I can’t. I—“ You can’t talk between small, shuddering breaths, and he just shakes his head, looking at the mess you’ve left behind.

“Keep sayin’ that, but here you are.” He stops, hovering over your stomach; waiting. Waiting for you to tell him to stop for real.

“Lemme keep goin’, darlin’. Just a little…” He groans at the way your hips shift lower, closer to his mouth despite your words. “Fuck. Little more. Need this.”

His nose brushes against your clit as he looks up, holding your eyes as he spits slowly down your centre.

“You like it, don’t you?” He says, a smile on his face even when his voice wavers. You whine, maybe in protest or impatience, but he coos at you either way. “I know. Shh. I know, baby. Just stay right…here.”

You think you black out when his mouth wraps around you again, sounds and colours all blending together in your mind in a way that nothing makes sense except for the way his tongue feels on you. Minutes or hours could go by— every responsibility you might have drifting to the back burner when he was here. Right here.

“M’right here. Never lettin’ you go.” He groans, his hips grinding into the soft covers, and you give in, knowing he’s got you.

✩ ੈ * ⚬ ʚ♡ɞ ⚬ * ੈ✩‧₊ ₊‧ ✩ ੈ * ⚬ ʚ♡ɞ ⚬ * ੈ✩‧₊ ₊‧ ✩ ੈ * ⚬ ʚ♡ɞ ⚬ * ੈ✩

It might of been a good morning, but it was another shitty day.

Winter in Jackson was good and bad. Good, because clickers and runners couldn’t make their way through the thick snow, and froze before they ever got close to the gates. It meant less patrols, less waste of resources, less need for supply runs; it was the closest to normal you got.

Bad, because while clickers weren’t made for the heavy fall of winter, neither were the fucking fences.

Everything broke down, cracked and froze during winter. There wasn’t a single area that didn’t need repairs, so while you weren’t needed on patrols, it meant you’d be out in the field, dragging plywood or banging nails into something. Even with all the hours you'd spent on your area, it felt like there was still miles to go, your hands aching by the time you found a minute to rest.

You could see Joel the entire day, too, which only made it worse for your wandering mind.

You could see him getting pissed off, ordering the young guys he’d been posted with around and up ladders. You know he’d want to relieve all that built up tension when he got home. Sometimes it was a matter of talking it out, listening in a way Joel wasn’t really used to before you. Other times you sat in silence, pressed up behind him in a steaming bath until you could hear his breath start to slow.

Today, you had a feeling it would be something a little different.

You hadn’t gotten to continue things at all this morning. By the time Joel dragged himself away from between your legs, he was already 45 minutes late to his post. Still, he walked you into the shower, holding you up on wobbly legs, trying his best not to get too distracted with how you kept kissing his jaw and looking up at him all innocent. He managed to get you dressed, too, and with no time to spare he gave you a quick kiss on the cheek and all too suddenly you were standing out in the snow, alone.

So that, and the fact you could see, and sometimes even hear his low voice grumbling orders all day was doing nothing to help your focus.

When you finally saw the sun begin to go down, you didn’t spare a second before you all but sprinted off, bursting through the door of your shared home. You quickly shook off your clothes, the warmth of your house making you strip down to just one of Joel’s old t-shirts. Now, you waited.

When the door burst open a few hours later, you were like a dog hearing a lead. You jumped out of the bed, watching Joel from the top of the stairs as he carefully stepped through the threshold. He’d found the carpets laying on your floor for you a few months ago, and he knows how much you love them, so he balances on one leg as best he can to take his muddy, snow covered shoes off before he called out to you.

“You home, darlin’?” He kept his voice soft in case you were sleeping, but smiled when he caught you basically hanging over the stairs. “There she is.”

“You’re late.” You say, squinting down at him with a smile and your arms crossed.

“Didn’t realise I had a curfew.” He smirked, shaking off his jacket and abandoning it over the couch. Playful Joel was one of your favourites. It made you as warm as the crackling fire behind you.

“Well, you do. And you’re late, so better get moving.” He raises his eyebrows, a bigger smile playing on his face as he walks to the bottom of the stairs.

“You know, I was gonna cook you dinner and everythin'. Do a real nice thing here. How longs it been since we did that?” He walks slow, every step groaning under the weight of him. Your heart swells at the idea, and if you weren’t so hell bent on jumping on him, you’d take him up on it.

"That sounds n-nice." You take a step back as he gets closer, something about him still intimidating you- even when you knew the man underneath. “Plenty of time to eat tomorrow, though."

When he finally clears the stairs, you don’t have time to blink before he’s surging in front of you. His hands find their home on your hips, staying light when they pull you toward him and make up the rest of the small distance between you. He must remember how hard he held you down this morning.

“Is that my shirt?” He mumbles into your hair, already knowing the answer. He nudges your face to his own, smirking confidently. "You miss me that bad?"

“Nope. It’s Mark’s from today. I just got sooo hot lifting all those planks of wood I had to take all my clothes off, so he—“ You’re cut off by your own squeal when he lifts you up, hands gripping your ass tightly.

“Very fuckin’ funny.” Joel growls low in your ear, but you can feel him smiling against your skin as he walks you to your bedroom, kissing you dizzy.

It’s a little embarrassing how easily he drives you to the brink. All he has to do is say your name a few times, whisper it against your skin, and kiss you like this, and you’re gone again. His. You’re his to mould and bend, your arms lifting as he drags the fabric of his old shirt up your stomach and chest.

He watches with an intense stare, goosebumps rising where the fabric brushes lightly over your sensitive skin. When he finally slips the shirt over your head his control snaps and he’s on top of you, and he’s everywhere.

His hands slide up your sides, spanning the entire space of your waist and ribs, coming over your chest and cupping your breasts in his hands. You arch your back, chasing his mouth as it presses hungry, quick kisses between movements, his fingers catching over your nipples making you moan his name.

“Thought about you all day.” You confess, nipping the skin of his jaw. He huffs a breath, your hands tangling once again in his hair. It’s still slightly wet from the cold, curling around your fingers in something like ringlets. “Needed you so bad, Joel.”

“Greedy little thing. Didn’t get enough this morning?” He laughs, and it's almost mean- teasing. You roll your hips into him slowly. It wipes the smirk off his face, turning it into an almost painful scrunch of his brow. “Fuck.”

“You didn’t let me touch you.” You whine, rolling into him again. He drops to hold himself up on his forearms, hands touching you where they can reach. “Always want to touch you, Joel.”

“Shit, you gotta stop talking like that or…” You repeat the slow movement of your hips, and he runs out of words, practically whining into your mouth.

“It’s true.” You bite his bottom lip, a little harder than necessary. “Wanna fuck you all the time. It’s distracting. Always… always think about it.”

Joel moans your name brokenly, and you take your chance. A small push with your leg collapses him on his back next to you, only that easy because he wasn’t expecting it. He’s sitting with his back against the headboard, and before he can shuffle down you straddle him, locking him in place underneath you.

One of his hands grabs the back of your neck, hauling you to his mouth, and you let him take control. You might be sitting on top of him, fiddling with his belt and tugging his pants down, but he is still in control. You know he could flip the switch in a second, and he’s just indulging you, but you take what you can get.

It’s so rare he lets you take care of him. You could count on one hand how many times he’s really let you do the work, but when the opportunity comes, you were going to take it and run with it.

He was still searching your body, fanning out his fingers and running them down your spine, leaning you closer. He takes off his shirt so he can feel you against him, his tongue licking into your mouth like he needs to learn you inside and out. When you finally get his pants off, you don’t waste a second, both of you gasping when you feel the thick head of him against your heat.

“H-hold on, you gotta… Jesus Christ.” Joel curses, his forehead pressed to yours. “Let me get you ready for me.”

“Mm-mm. Ready. Please…need it.” You shake your head, angling your hips just right, and he slumps forward in something like defeat when your hand snakes down and presses him inside of you. “Oh, god.”

"Fuck. Slow down, baby. Nice and slow." He stutters out, his hands coming to your hips to try and hold you up. Joel was... big. Big enough to the point where you should of taken your time, worked yourself up a bit more, but you just wanted him so bad-- "Hey, look at me."

Your eyes flutter up to him, and he kisses you quickly, like its an apology. You stay there, feeling the slight sharp pain fade quickly with how desperate you want him, how fucking wet you were already. In a few seconds you try to move again, and Joel's hands tighten around you.

"You can stop, baby. It's okay, you--"

"No! Don't want to. Just... fuck me, Joel." You say a little harsher, shaking your head where its now tucked into the crook of his neck. You sink down further against the push of his hands, and he groans your name lowly as you feel him split you open, taking the last inch of him.

Your hands were still tangled in his hair, and where you were rendered speechless, he couldn't seem to shut himself up.

"Fuck. So fuckin' tight, Christ." You feel his palm on your ass, pushing you forward just slightly, creation a friction that has you whining. "Yeah, I know baby. Feels good. Fuck, you feel so good."

When you don't feel that pain anymore, you start to grow desperate for more. Joel was right. You were greedy tonight, and the friction of your hips against his just wasn't enough. You wrap your arms around his neck, shutting up his rambling with a lazy kiss, and use him to rise up just a little, before sinking down again.

He says something into your mouth, but the words are lost when you begin to repeat the same motion over and over again. Heat builds in waves, crashing higher and higher in your stomach until it makes your toes curl, your jaw dropping open to moan a broken version of Joel's name.

Your eyes roll back, head falling to the side, leaving you open to Joel's mouth who sucks harsh marks just below your jaw. You know you'll be covered in them tomorrow, but right now you don't care. You can't seem to care about anything else, except the way Joel is buried so deep inside you, you swear you can feel him everywhere.

"Focus on me. Need to see those pretty eyes, girl." He nudges you straight, your neck no longer able to support the weight of your head as it falls forward to rest on Joel. He groans again, matching your pace with his own movements, and you get louder with the added force. "Fuck, that's it. Let 'em hear you."

Everything turns molten inside of you, liquid heat spreading from the tips of your toes to your heavy head, and if Joel wasn't fucking you back so hard you don't think you'd be upright. As soon as he was inside you, you lost all sense of direction and control, like your body knew to trust him, to give yourself over to him.

His hands wrap tightly around your waist, bodies pressed together as he takes the work out of it for you. You move together— you’re so close you don’t have a choice, and when the hot, tingling feeling ripples up your spine you can only do exactly what he’s telling you.

“Take it, baby. Take it. Good— fuck, good girl.” His head drops from where it was pressed heavy against your forehead, dipping into the crook of your neck. Your palms can feel the release in his back, the way he relaxes as he finally gives himself to you. The noise he makes, and how he almost whines your name is a calling card, hauling you over the edge with him.

He rides it out. Makes it linger, all the pleasure and relief flooding your body in burning waves, and when his hips start to slow, his mouth trails kisses from your neck, all the way up your jaw and to your mouth. He breathes in when you breathe out, both of you wiped from exhaustion, but he can’t pull himself away.

It was like this morning, how even though his back was cramped and he was late as fuck to work, he couldn’t stop. At the expense of himself, he’d starve himself of everything if it meant being here with you.

“Christ, darlin’. Fuck, you’re so good t’me.” He says it like it’s a bad thing— words laced with an anxious wave, like you’d realise it wasn’t right, and leave. Even with him still buried inside of you. “Look at me.”

Your eyes blink open, hands still tangled in the curls of his hair. You can’t tell him all the things you want to— how he deserves this. How much you want to give him, and how if anything, you were the one who didn’t deserve this. Instead, you smile at him, and it seems to say everything all at once.

“You okay?" Joel's muffled voice asks, holding you tightly against him.

"Mhmm." You hum happily, a sleepy smile on your face as his hands cup your face. You feel his thumbs trace the high points of your cheeks, and his lips press to your nose before your eyes open.

You stay right there, his eyes watching you with no real purpose, just taking in the sight of you here with him. When the two of you finally muster the energy to go down stairs, Joel follows through with his promise to cook for you, and for this first time all day, your complete attention is captured.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x fem reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #tlou #tlou joel #tlou joel miller #pedro pascal

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igniferrus · 2 years ago

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God. So I've been thinking about BBC's Arthur Pendragon. I work a job heavy on the manual labour and light on the mental labour, so I have a lot of Free Brain Space.

But I started off wondering why there are so many fics about Arthur learning how much Merlin does for him, and so few of the reverse. Because there is no way that Merlin isn't in trouble 89.2% of the time, in some way or another. We see Arthur protect Merlin after his dumbass confession to Uther, and also bodily haul him out of the throne room for safety reasons. No body else could get away with stealing the Prince's food, or disappear or days and keep his job!! And Arthur doesn'teven know they're bound by destiny, he just really likes Merlin! He's just some guy Arthur found and chased around a market.

And then I remembered that so many people forget that Arthur Pendragon is fundamentally A Good Man. I know the show refused to give him permanent character development, but even his base character is a good guy! The most assholish thing we see him do is in the first episode, throwing things at the servants. And then, compared to the rest of the series, that feels very out of character!

Yes, Arthur uses Merlin as a training dummy, but I'm sure that's just to get him to quit. And it's only shown early in the first season. Arthur is consistently shown as caring for his people (refusing to enforce Catrina's tax increase, willing to die to fix his unicorn mistake), more fair about magic users despite only seeing it used for evil (saving Mordred and the woman who gave him the Horn of Cathbhadh. He even tries to give Kara an out, for Mordred!), and cares deeply for those around him! He loves Gwen. He loves Morgana. He loves Merlin. He loves his knights. He even loves Uther!

It's not his fault that the people around him refuse to allow him to make his own choices. Gauis, Uther, and Merlin all lie about his mother. Merlin and Morgana don't tell him about their magic. Morgana doesn't see him as any other than an extension of Uther, despite knowing him for years.I t's so easy to judge him as an outsider with all the facts, but we should remember that Arthur's is intentionally left out of the loop and judge him from that perspective. He does the best he can, with what he knows!

Merlin, despite being repeatedly told that he and Arthur are in this together, and need each other, does not tell Arthur anything! Arthur is not allowed to make an informed choice and he shouldn't be punished for that. Even when Merlin finally comes clean, Arthur doesn't rage! He's hurt and upset that his "only friend", the "only one [he] can trust" have been lying to his face for a decade, which, understandable, but he chooses Merlin anyway! He wants to be held by Merlin at the end, thanks him, and asks him to stay they same after Arthur's death!! Because he still cares for Merlin!

Arthur Pendragon's character development is stymied at every turn by the show and its writers, but even then they couldn't stop him from being a good man!!

This was more rambling and less coherent than I wanted, but it's been hot out lately and my brain is cooked.

Anyway, I am first and foremost an Arthur Pendragon apologist.

#bbc merlin #arthur pendragon #Oh my god Merlin is Arthur's blorbo #You know the guy he just latched on to #I had more thoughts but they're gone now that I tried to write them down.#But Arthur Pendragon is a good man and deserves more recognition for it.

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eris-snow · 9 days ago

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12. 𝐌𝐫 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐬

Tags: bakugoux fem!reader, juxtaposition, angst,fluff, falling in love

Look at me. Please look at me.

Just like the days former, Katsuki finds routine crackers easy with you. The hall in school feels like a second home, and the curtains you hide behind feel like your room. The numerous windows keep the hall bright, and your piano playing and stupidly random conversations ensure the hall is never quiet.

Your playing is getting better, either that or he’s going tone-death and wants to die peacefully, but he attributes it to his shattering eardrums and rising activity on the streets.

Saito, that old fuck up had offered him an insight into how your golden thread worked. Was more like a cord now though, the bindings stronger and thicker than before.

It gives you hints. It circles around clues and pulls you back from dead ends.

Damn thing has an attitude though. If I could still see mine, bet it’d be crocheting me a bridge to hell if I could still see mine.

The closer you are to the Target, the clearer the thread. The closer the Target is to death, the thinner it gets.

Text me if you need anything else.

He pockets his phone, and stares back at you, the cord weaving its way around you like a dog chasing its leash. Part of him thinks that you wanted to die so badly you would have committed to the act if he hadn’t found out your secret. The string was so fine when he found it, it might as well have been part of a spider’s web.

Now, it’s braided yarn tangled and woven together, your will to live skyrocketing because of hope and Katsuki himself.

Thank God, because Katsuki would have absolutely murdered you if you’d killed yourself.

—

7 April

Eijiro is so dead after this.

The box under Katsuki’s bed is jerked out, opened and dust-ridden.

Katsuki leaves five minutes to get a wet towel and just like that, his alone time plan is fucked by the fuckers that arranged a fucking slumber party in his room without the fucking audacity to tell him.

Fuck fuck fucky fuck fuck FUCK.

“Blasty, since when did you have all these things—?”

”PUT. MY. SHIT. DOWN.” He’s armed with nothing but a 10 by 10 cm towel, but he’ll wield it like a murder weapon and Denki knows it.

For the sake of their lives, Sero, Kirishima and Denki carefully place his items back down on the ground while Eijiro gives him puppy dog eyes.

“Kats—”

“Uh, uh, don’t Kats me. I refused to be guilt-tripped for being angry that you three invaded my room like incompetent robbers,” He points to the door, snarling. “Out.”

“But Bakugou,” Denki practically whines, unfazed. “Where did you get all of this stuff? We haven’t hung out in forever, and it’s either you’ve been sneaking off with girls or have been very lonely.”

“Or, I enjoy solitude,” Katsuki says darkly.

“Bullshit, no one likes solitude!” counters Sero.

Eijiro looks at him pleadingly. “Come on, Bakugou, it looks like you’re just cleaning stuff. We can help you! Talk about stuff!”

Katsuki gives him one hard glare, before flickering his eyes to Denki and Sero.

“Get out.” He grits.

Katsuki takes no bull from nobody. He wants to do this alone, and he will do this alone. Your things were gifts to him, and if any single one of them are chipped, torn or damaged, he’d sooner blast them across the campus faster than they could say ‘I’m sorry’.

His friends will park their asses outside his room.

—

His friends did not park their asses outside his room, and he’s currently contemplating whether mellowing out was a good decision in his overall life journey because now he has these people he can’t call extras anymore, people he can’t say no to, and people whose feelings he feels obligated not to hurt.

On the plus, they’re helping him wipe down your precious gifts to him, so it balances out his karma.

“What the fuck dude,” Denki says, the minute he steps back into the room after washing the cookery gifts. “This mug is so you.”

The cup is a washed-out orange, simple, sleek and subtle. It’s porcelain and well-made, just the way he likes it.

“Don’t drop it, idiot.” He takes it out of the blond’s hands, and sets it on his desk.

“Hey, look!” Eijiro says, pulling out the album which makes Katsuki’s heart rate rack up to an unhealthy number of beats per minute.

“Give that back-”

“There might be baby pictures! Let me see!” Sero shouted, diving for the seat next to Eijiro and knocking Katsuki’s hand out of the way.

“I HEARD BABY-” Denki erupts, before Katsuki kicks him out of the way and makes a grab for the album, only to face plant when Eijiro hardens his arm to block Katsuki and opens the album.

There’s loud silence for a second as Eijiro speeds through the album, their smiles growing by the minute as Denki wiggles his eyebrows and looks up at Katsuki’s redden face with pride and surprise.

“Who’s this?” He asks, a shit-eating grin playing at his lips as he points at a 13-year-old Y/n who had her arm slung around him in the picture. Both of them were posing, clutching a golden trophy while flashing their pearly whites for all to see.

“People,” Katsuki answers with a straight face, wrenching the album out of Eijiro grasp as he slams it shut.

“Is she here at U.A.? Are you pen pals with her? No wait-” Denki pauses dramatically. “Is she your secret girlfriend?”

Katsuki is one villain arc away biting Denki’s head off.

“Why haven’t we heard about her, Katsuki? There are so many photos here, it’s evident that both of you are close.” Sero grins. “When Mina hears this, she’s going to be all over you like that time you refused to be Santa Claus for Eri at her Christmas party.”

Mina always had a thing or two about gossip. Nothing gets pass her, and Katsuki knows any speculation is worse than what the truth actually is.

“She’s a friend.” Katsuki forces out. “And we haven’t spoken in a while, so I’m not as close to her as I used to be.”

“Tell us about her, what’s she like?” Sero asks, as Eijiro and Denki nod in agreement. They’re looking at him with big, guilt-tripping eyes. He hasn’t paid much attention to them ever since he found out your true origins, even more so when he learnt about your scheduled death.

These are his friends, and for that, he answers.

“She’s…” determined, suicidal, emotional, mysterious, ordinary—

Dying.

“…A mess.” He finishes, causing his friends to groan. Denki throws his hands in the air. “Give this guy a slow clap everyone, slow clap.”

Only Sero humours him as Eijiro sighs in disappointment, glancing over the box for any remaining items left to clean.

“Hey, Kats,” Eijiro says, holding up a crinkled scoresheet. In bold text, the title reads ‘Nuvole Bianche—Duet version.’

“What’s this?”

—

15th April

Thanks to climate change and the fact crime rates are rising, The date proposed by Katsuki to view cherry blossoms was a little late. Katsuki’s jacket is well worn, but you wear it anyway and greet him with hopeful smiles at the entrance of U.A.

He doesn’t return them, but he’s secretly hopeful too. If this fails, all he has left are pianos, and fuck if he knows where to go with street pianos.

Aldera Middle School is not a place with good memories, not to Katsuki. And by the looks of your tense shoulders and stone cold expression, you were trying your hardest to put on a strong front.

“Hey,” He nudges you. “Lighten up, it’s all in the past. Can’t hurt you.” He says, trying to sound confident. Part of him is trying to convince himself that too.

The place where he was at the top of the food chain, the four walls that had brought him upon a pedestal and skyrocketed his ego into the metaphorical stratosphere.

Even as he’s on the cusp of graduating into a good, stable job, even if he’s apologised and has put his foot forward into amending for his past mistakes, it brings him no joy to look back at the person he used to be.

“They’re staring.”

Katsuki blinks. What?

“Them.” You nod towards the rest of the bus, and now Katsuki sees what he’s been avoiding every time he goes outside. Scattered groups of people whispering, gossiping, subtlety (but not so subtly) pointing him out and debating whether they should say hello.

Even with a mask and sunglasses, his spikey hair is a dead give away. Maybe he should get a cap.

“Tch. Ignore it.” he says, sinking down further in his seat. “Extras won’t come here when I’m with you.”

Your heart clenches painfully at that. You wish, so, so badly that it were true, but whenever Katsuki was with you, it only looked like he was by himself. That’s why there haven’t been any tabloids since he went out with you.

You’re a non-entity. Invisible.

Shit, shit shit—

“Thank you.” You say instead. “I don’t think I say it enough. I…I don’t know if I would have picked myself up again.”

Sweet words coming from a snarky mouth.

Katsuki rolls his eyes, before he glances out the window.

“Whatever. Thank me when you can interact with people without them losing interest in you after three seconds.”

Ha…what a burn.

“I really don’t like you sometimes.”

The bus squeaks to a stop, and Katsuki stands up.

“Me neither.”

—

The yellow thread is fucking bullshit. It winds around you and it seems to feed off Katsuki’s anxiety and crippling inferior complex as it danced around the big cherry blossom tree he’d stood under the day of his graduation.

You have a longing, sad smile on your face when your eyes land on the innocent plant, like you were caught between flashbacks and painful reality.

“I remember seeing you during graduation.” You start, tracing your hands around the bark. “You were angry, and I could guess why.”

Katsuki doesn’t like this tree.

No, at that point of time, Izuku had hacked his way into U.A and got accepted, leaving him with two forehead veins ready to pop, a baby tantrum he’s reluctant to admit he threw, and no explanations whatsoever. He vowed as his mother took a photo of him on his graduation day that he would beat Izuku into a pulp and show him who’s boss, only to fall flat on his face on the first day of school.

Now, when he looks back at who he used to be, he shudders.

“You were awful.” You monologue, and you pretend you don’t see Katsuki flinch. “I acknowledge that now. To Izuku, to me. To everyone around you because you had a flashy quirk and top-tier grades.”

“Well it’s not like you were much of a fuckin’ saint either.” He mumbles. But he doesn’t really know what you were like back then, so he’s talking out of his ass.

“I know.” You smile, and it causes your eyes to crinkle up at the ends. “But I wanted to be just like you.”

—

“Did you know we used to climb this tree?” You murmur. “It’s strong and sturdy, so it can take both our weight.”

Katsuki arcs an eyebrow, as he watches you grip onto one branch, lay your foot on an indent, and climb. You’re not as strong as you used to be, after hiding in the shadows and avoided exerting yourself, so you can only imagine how silly it looks to Katsuki who can leap higher than the tree itself.

“Want help?” he says, hands stuffed in his pockets.

“No.” You struggle, and he watches you struggle. He watches you, with your two hands climb a tree that’s almost twice your height without helping you. His jacket is warm on you, because Katsuki is always warm with the Quirk that runs through his veins.

You picked out this jacket, got it at a sale and immediately regretted buying it for him because it was the only one left. You stole it from him every chance you got from then on because he really liked this jacket.

It made you so happy he wore it often.

Katsuki’s eyes are warm on you. Soft, even. Hands in his pockets, casually talking to you. You feel so lucky, to be considered his friend.

From atop a tree, the view you get is broader and wider. You see everything you don’t want to see.

Happy people, for one, but another part of you tells you you’re just jealous of them. And then you see it.

The eyes.

Male or female, young or old, scattered plots of people staring at Katsuki’s back and working up the courage to talk to him. You sigh, leaning on the trunk of the tree.

They’re staring. All of them. Staring.

Admiration lines their gaze and envy swarms your vision.

Fucking hell, you’re so jealous.

Three…(A girl musters her courage, and you sigh.)

Two…(She walks forwards, hand outstretched. When you’re ignored so often, your eyes often sees things that go unnoticed so easily.)

One.

“E-Excuse me? Are you Dynamight?” A middle school girl donning the same uniform you once did shyly greets the blond. You watch his red eyes widen, as he turns around to see her hovering around him like a moth to a flame. (Fuck flame, Katsuki was a fucking beacon) Soon, more people join, and there’s a line forming for autographs.

A surge of spite engulfs your heart. You’re here, you’re right here, can’t they see?

Why can’t you see me?

Katsuki is clearly uncomfortable, awkward around crowds because with fame and glory, he’s traded privacy and mobility, two things Katsuki values the most. He’s yet to fill out the mould he’s supposed to be, but he’s trying, so he signs the autographs and takes the pictures.

You almost can’t bear to look.

“Y/n, I heard you placed first in that competition! You’re awesome!”

“Y/n, that piece you played was soo hard, I wish I could be just like you!”

“Y/n, I wish my fingers could move that fast. You’re so cool!”

You remember these compliments and you remember them well.

What is it like, to be seen again?

What is it like, to have people look up to you?

“You used to go to this school! That’s why I chose to come here!” One person shouts.

Another person adds. “Thank you for your autograph! You’re so cool, Dynamight!”

Your eyes close, and you hop off the tree.

Why won’t you look at me?

—

The bus ride home is quiet. Too fucking quiet.

Katsuki doesn’t like that look in your eyes, even more so with the yellow cord around you thinning. Katsuki doesn’t think you realise, how difficult it is to bottle your emotions behind a facade. You wear your heart on your sleeve.

“Oi,” He growls. “If you have shit to say, say it. I can’t read your fucking mind.”

“Sorry,” You mumble. “It’s stupid. Wallflower thoughts. Hate you. Hate myself for hating you.”

Katsuki doesn’t get it, he isn’t good with people like that. But just as he was about to take your words at face value and explode at you, you mutter words his crippling hearing almost doesn’t pick up on.

“I hate it when people ignore me. So when everyone started coming up to you and started asking for photos and autographs, I just…” you wrap his jacket tighter around yourself, shaking your head. “Never mind.”

It’s not like Katsuki doesn’t enjoy the audience he’s amassed. When he’s at the top, he’ll be known to the world as the greatest hero with admirers worshipping at his feet.

But when he spent time with you at that cherry blossom tree, the only person who he wanted eyes on him…was you.

The monster, the villain, the jerk that he was, you knew how he was back then. And yet, here you are.

I hate it when people ignore me.

Something’s not fucking right about that. “Argh, god dammit, just-” He drags you out the bus, stopping at the gates of U.A.

“Wait here!” He yells, winding his arms up as he boots up his explosions.

“Bakugou—”

“Shut up!” He says, before he explodes his way to his dorm room.

That’s not right. This isn’t right.

Katsuki’s body is moving on its own, and he can’t stop it. The moment he saw your face, riddled with tired jealousy, he just—

He couldn’t bear it.

By the time he gets back, he’s panting like he’s running out of hell. In his hand, is a stupid small potted cactus.

“Bakugou?” You say, eyes wide like saucers. So cute, part of him thinks, wrapped up in his jacket like that.

“You…hah…you’re so easy to miss and have almost nothing going on in your life. You can’t order a Happy Meal without it getting forgotten for 30 minutes, and your cactus that you named Fluffy died because you overwatered it.” He takes in a deep breath, and straightens his body. “You talk about me and it scares me how much I’m supposed to know about you. You love my bentos so I’ll fucking make you one someday, and we can go shopping together to buy me a plant too because you want me to, just…fuckin’…!”

He looks at you, really, really looks at you. “I see you,” he says, holding you tenderly in his gaze as he offers you the small cactus.

“For now, c-can that be enough?”

He’s stuttering, Bakugou Katsuki, is stuttering, what—what is wrong with him?!

You take the cactus from his hand holding it gingerly like it was glass.

Then, you look up at him, and give him the most brilliant smile he’s seen from you.

“Sometimes I forget.” You whisper, “Just how lucky I am.”

A warmth spreads from the centre of his heart to the rest of his body. It makes his limbs tingy, and his fingertips buzz with electricity. He squashes it down, because now isn’t the time for feelings.

“Thank you, Bakugou.” You say, beaming at him with those pretty eyes and beautiful smile. Ah….God dammit.

As he walks you back to your dorm room, he hears you muttering as you trace a finger on the pot of the plant.

“I’ll name you Mr Prickles.”

215 Days Until Death

----

Taglist:

@genderfluid-anime-goth

#juxtaposition (Bakugou)#mha #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugō #bakugo x you #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x reader #angst #bakugou angst #bakugou fluff #fluff

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desperateparamedic · 5 days ago

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The explosive tension of a friend group

The first fart hit before they even left the driveway. It was loud, wet, and unmistakable—a sound that could only be described as a splat followed by a low, vibrating hum.“Oh my God, Tom,” groaned Lucas from the passenger seat, pinching his nose dramatically. “Are you seriously doing this already? We’ve been in the car for, like, two minutes!”Tom, slouched in the backseat with a bag of chips resting on his stomach, shrugged unapologetically.

“What can I say? Road trip snacks hit different.” He crunched loudly on another chip, his grin widening as he added, “Besides, it’s tradition. You know I always christen the car.”“I wish you wouldn’t,” muttered Jake, the group’s de facto driver, as he adjusted the rearview mirror to glare at her. “Seriously, Tom, crack a window or something. That’s vile.”“Vile?” Tom scoffed, feigning offense. “It’s natural! Totally healthy. You should be thanking me for keeping the ecosystem balanced.”

From the middle seat, Marcus—the new guy—chuckled softly. He was broad-shouldered and lean, with the kind of athletic build that made it clear he spent more time in a gym than most people spent sleeping. Despite the chaos unfolding around him, he seemed oddly unfazed. “Relax, guys,” he said, his voice calm and steady. “It’s just gas. Could be worse.”Jake turned to stare at him, his eyebrows shooting up. “Just gas? Did you not hear that? It sounded like a swamp creature died in here!”Marcus laughed again, the sound warm and easy. “Trust me, after spending years in locker rooms and weightlifting competitions, you get used to stuff way worse than this. This is nothing.”Jake glanced at him in the rearview mirror, skepticism written all over his face. “You’re telling me you’re cool with sitting in a fart-filled death trap for the next six hours?”

Marcus shrugged, a small smirk playing on his lips. “As long as no one starts throwing protein shakes out the window, I’m good.”Tom leaned forward, poking his head between the front seats. “See? Marcus gets it. He’s a man of culture. Unlike you two drama queens.”Jake rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress a grin. “Fine. But if anyone else lets one rip, I’m rolling down the windows and sticking my head out like a golden retriever.”The car erupted into laughter, the tension easing as they pulled onto the highway.

For a while, things were peaceful. The radio played softly in the background, the landscape outside blurred into a mix of green trees and open fields, and everyone settled into their respective roles: Jake focused on the road, Jake flipping through playlists, Tom snacking aggressively, and Marcus quietly observing it all with amused detachment.Then came fart number two.This one was shorter, sharper, and somehow more musical—like a trumpet solo gone horribly wrong.“Again?!” Jake shouted, slapping the steering wheel. “Who was it this time? Fess up!”A beat of silence passed before Jake pointed an accusatory finger at Marcus. “It was him! I saw him shift in his seat right before it happened!”Marcus raised his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, don’t look at me. I’m just sitting here, minding my business.”But Jake wasn’t buying it. He leaned closer, sniffing the air like a bloodhound. “Nope. Definitely him. Smells like… protein powder and regret.”Marcus laughed, shaking his head. “Okay, fine. Guilty as charged. But in my defense, I’m bulking right now. My diet’s basically just eggs, chicken, and beans. Sometimes nature takes its course.”

“Nature?” Jake repeated, his voice rising in disbelief. “This isn’t nature; it’s biological warfare!”The car erupted into laughter again, but the moment was short-lived. As if sensing an opportunity to escalate, Tom let out another thunderous blast, this one so loud it seemed to echo off the windows.“Tom!” Jake shouted, practically swerving into the next lane. “That’s it. Pull over. I’m not driving another mile with you in this car.”“Relax, dude,” Tom said, grinning ear to ear. “Think of it as… ambiance. Like one of those rainforest soundtracks, but gassier.”

Marcus chuckled, clearly enjoying the chaos. “You know, there’s actually science behind this. Farting helps release pressure in the body. If anything, we’re promoting team bonding.” “Team bonding?” Jake repeated, looking incredulous. “If this is bonding, I want a divorce.”“Too bad,” Tom shot back. “We’re stuck together, baby. Till death—or indigestion—do us part.”The rest of the drive continued in much the same vein, with each person trying to outdo the others in both volume and creativity. By the time they reached the halfway point, the car had transformed into a noxious cloud of laughter, groans, and increasingly elaborate excuses.

By the time they pulled into the gas station to refuel, the group was in high spirits. They spilled out of the car, stretching their legs and breathing in the fresh air—except for Tom, who stayed behind to guard the snacks.As Marcus pumped gas, he sidled up to him, his expression curious. “Not gonna lie, I’m impressed you haven’t lost your mind yet. Most people would’ve bailed by now.”Marcus grinned, his gaze flickering to Tom's. “What can I say? I like a challenge.”There was a spark in his eyes that made Marcus pause, his cheeks flushing slightly. Before he could respond, Jake called out from the driver’s side.“Hey, lovebirds! We’re hitting the road in five. Get back in the fart mobile before someone calls the EPA.”

#male farts #eproctophilia #bromance

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descendantsramblings · 5 months ago

Note

First of all, take your time with the storys (god i love your writing style, its not rushed and not too cheesy or out of character) And cause my Brain is a full on simp for Morgie and the Boy is just a little good one that wants to fit in, i have another idea

Maybe a story based on the Deleted scene pics of Him sleeping(?) alone in the Hideout from the lagoon in this chair(?) and of him finding the book

in the whole thing morgie and reader have this Tension like always and are pretty close (they are in love but both dont know how to make the first step and they know it wouldnt really be good news for uliana which scares morgie off)

Male!reader is another villain kid that is also in Ulianas crew but mostly in the background, he didnt go to the office to steal the cookbook nor did he look out for merlin with morgie (maybe reader is even secretly slightly friends with bridget who knows)

Morgie went to find the cookbook in chloe's and red's room after finding out what happend to uliana and the crew, he hesitates to open it and goes back to the Hideout in the lagoon where he starts to panick a little cause his friends are frozen, he is all alone and it all depends on him now.

On one side he wants to impress uliana and the others and be a good villain like his Mom (cause he has a reputation to hold up and he has mommy issues lmao) but on the other hand he doesnt think that Bridget deserves it and he doesnt wants to really be like his mom, morgie also opens the book which also proves that he is good in his heart

Reader comes into the hideout to see morgie having a complete life crisis and he tries to comfort him, Reader wants Morgie to leave the villain group cause he just isnt a villain and a good soul at heart but Morgie thinks that this will just cause more problems so he sticks with this life now (god bless him)

Morgie ends up not doing the prank and telling Uliana later after she is unfrozen that he just didnt find the cookbook and he couldnt pull through with the pranks and that he and Reader couldnt think of anything just as cruel for Bridget before castlecoming but they totally did still try to.make bridgets day bad (they didnt xD)

You’re so sweet, thank you so much. I really do try, end up reading it like 4 times before I post it and find something I wish I changed a day later. And I love the concept of a secretly good VK being with Morgie (who is also secretly good idc what Disney has to say on the matter)!! I’m so excited about this one

True to Heart

Morgie le Fay X Reader

Pronouns used: He/him/his

Summary: When faced with something that knows the truest part of your heart, it’s bound to see right through you.

Warnings: Uliana sucks, they're very touchy but really this is just fluff with some panicking. Death mention but it’s sorta playful

Word count: 2K

It had been hours since he heard from Uliana. Surely the sea witch should have come by his room by now , yelling at him about how he needed to be ready for their plan. Convinced he’d do it at the drop of a hat to be part of her main circle. She was a fool of course, that he believed with his whole heart, she was ridiculous to believe he’d hurt Bridget. It would be like asking him to hurt Hades. They weren’t close but he had an obvious care for them, that was easy to see. Uliana was an idiot to believe he would even consider letting go of that part of himself. There were few parts of his morals he could actually hold in the position he’d put himself in. He’d be keeping one, (Y/n) was not the type of guy to betray anyone. Despite that though, he was on his way to go find the dreadful girl and her friends, skipping across the rocks of the black lagoon. Regardless of who he wanted to be, villainy ran in his blood, he had no other options but to be on their beck and call. Well, he assumes he did have one other option, but the idea of being alone by choice wasn’t exactly one that made his chest all warm and fuzzy. And to leave certain people in the crew would kill him.

“Oh what did I do?” The familiar voice panicked, speaking to himself as he paced the length of the hide out. “Why did I take that? What do I do with it? Why did I?” Morgie is speaking faster than he can make sense, repeatedly looking over at some old book settled on the table. (Y/n) slinks in, carefully making his way up to the boy. Not that he noticed the presence of his, well he can’t actually tell you what Morgie considers him. Arms outstretched, grabbing his biceps from behind, “Morgz, where are your friends? I thought Ulilana would’ve come by to snatch me up by now.” Hazel eyes are panicked and wild, turning and staring into the most comforting face he’s ever seen. “I-” he takes a deep breath, stepping closer for his friend to hold him closer, “I failed at being a good watch and now they’re all frozen and I don’t know what to do because it’s my fault and I don’t want to do this alone.”

His right hand slides up Morgie’s arm, resting on his shoulder as his left hand cups his cheek. “Morgie, I will never let you be alone. Now, tell me what we’re doing.” He watches Morgie’s eyes close, rubbing the boy’s cheek with his thumb lovingly. “I can’t ask that of you,” he breathes forcing his eyes open as he pulls away from the boy’s hand, “If pranking Bridget falls on me it has to fall on just me. I know you like her and I couldn’t make you do something like that. It would ruin your chances.” (Y/n) laughs, tapping Morgie’s cheek with his hand and letting go to look at the book on the table, “Morgz, Bridget is a lovely friend but I do not like her. Not like that. Now,” he drags a finger over the cover of the old book, “Is this the book that Uliana wanted?” He pauses, turning around. His back straightens in shock, realizing just how close Morgie had gotten, he could feel the sorcerer’s breath on his face. He was really close, far too close.

“Did you say Uliana was frozen?” “They all are,” he steps back ever so slightly, as if he realized how close he’d gotten all of a sudden, “I heard those two girls talking about it. They said there was a spell on the book that keeps people with evil in their heart from being able to use it. Something like that and they opened it and now,” he shakes his head. “Now they’re all frozen,” (Y/n) bites his hand to hold back a laugh, “They didn’t research the book before they went to get it?” He turns back to the book, “So what are you planning to do with it?” Morgie’s hands settle on either side of him, chest pinned to the boy’s back with his breath fanning over (Y/n)’s exposed neck.

“I mean, I need to do the prank don’t I? Uliana is going to be fuming if I don’t and it would make my mom happy. Or at least I hope it would. So I need to do the prank, right?” He bites his lips, eyes fluttering closed as he relishes in the closeness. They’d never act like this in the hideout if Uliana had the chance to see them. she had her qualms when it came to them both -one more than the other- no reason to make it worse. “So, you want to prank an innocent girl so that two women who can’t even see you would be proud of you?” He shakes his head, “It’s not that I want to prank her. I just, I need someone to be proud of me. You can understand that, can’t you?” “Morgz,” he shakes his head, turning around and putting them nearly nose to nose. He can hear someone take in a sharp breath, Morgie seeming to hold the gasp in as he stares at his friend. He was almost sure the sound had been him. “You do not need to make Uliana and your mother happy all the time. What would make you happy?” He shakes his head, the motion making their noses brush up against each other. “You know it’s not that simple.”

“Okay, then open your magic little book, serpent boy.” He lets out a sound that (Y/n) thinks is supposed to be a laugh. “I can’t, villains can’t open the book. That’s literally how we got in this situation.” He nods, grabbing Morgie’s face in a way that would make most people raise their brows. The display was a touch two cozy for the two boys to just be friends. “Open the book. If you freeze then I will unfreeze you and help with the prank.” He raises a brow, eyes drinking in his best friend’s face, “And if I don’t?” “How about we focus on if you do first, huh?” Morgie lets go of him, stepping to the side so he can look at the book. “What if,” he takes a breath, looking over at his friend’s gentle face, “What if you can’t turn me back?” His hand reaches out, smoothing a strand of Morgie’s hair into place, “Well, then I will fight tooth and nail until I can. I can’t be without you.” He picks up the book with slow shaking hands, eyes flickering back over to the other boy. “I really think you should open this. I mean, we know that you could open it and be just fine. You’re so,” he looks the boy over, licking his lips, “You.”

“Morgz, open the book. I promise you, we’ll be okay.” Morgie takes a deep breath, bracing himself for the worst as the cover of the book gives way to his hand. Sliding open without so much as a shine of a spell coming off of it. His eyes flicker open, slowly looking over the page before looking up to his friend. “I didn’t freeze.” A smile comes across his face, walking over to Morgie’s shell chair and falling into it. “You knew that,” he turns to watch as he speaks. “You knew I would be okay.” (Y/n) looks up at him from his seat, smiling at Morgie, “Of course I did, I know you. You might be a le Fay but you’re also,” he pauses, shaking his head, “You’re you. There’s no need to be Morgie le Fay right now. You can just be, Morgie.”

He shakes his head, walking over to his friend and falling to sit between his legs, “I can just be Morgz.” Without so much as a second of hesitation (Y/n) wraps his arms around Morgie’s waist, lightly pulling him back to lay down on top of him. There’s no hesitation on the other boy’s end either, the sorcerer melting into his arms, his head lulling back to rest on his friend’s shoulder. The two boys become a tangle, the tip of his nose brushing against (Y/n)’s cheek bone as he gets wrapped into his arms. A grossly adoring and gentle display that the other boys of the group would never give into. Words can’t explain how happy he is for the curse on that stupid book. “What am I supposed to do now? I mean, if I’m not evil what am I doing with the villains?” (Y/n)’s hand comes up to scratch at the boy’s scalp as he speaks, Morgie letting out a whine at the contact.

“That’s a great question, what are you doing with the villains? You and I both know that you deserve better than this.” Each of the other boy’s words fan across his cheek and lips as he speaks, the air of it tickling his cheek, “You know why.” He was so close, how had he let himself pull the other boy so close? His mind was in overdrive, doing everything he could to think about something, anything, other than the closeness. “You know you don’t have to be her mini me, right? You don’t have to be here just because of her.” He scoffs, nuzzling further against (Y/n)’s cheek, “Why are you with us then? Everyone knows you’re nothing like your dad.” A hum follows the words, stroking the boy’s hair instead of responding. “I mean realistically, Hades and I are the only ones you hang out with one on one. And I think everyone knows you’re not a fan of Maleficent. But you’re still lumped in with us. What’s the point of it?” “You,” he has his eyes closed as he says it, bracing for whatever the response would be.

Morgie stills, (Y/n) honestly hadn’t noticed he was still nuzzling against him until he stopped it. Grip loosening so the boy could get up and leave him. But he doesn’t, he can feel Morgie’s eyes burning into the side of his face. “Look at me.” “What?” “Look at me,” he grabs the boy’ chin, tilting him over to look at him, “Open your eyes.” “I’m okay actually.” “Please,” he whines it, cupping the boy’s face. And they both know there’s no way (Y/n) ignores that tone in his voice. Eyes slowly opening. “You’re stuck here because of me?” “I want to be stuck with you.”

Morgie sits up, looking over at the book with a sigh, “How are we supposed to get that thing back into Merlin’s office?” (Y/n) shoots up, looking at the boy with bewilderment in his eyes, “What?” Morgie lets out the shell of a laugh, turning to him, “Well, if you’re stuck with them because of me, then while they’re frozen, we can do things your way.” He looks at the sorcerer with the softest eyes, lip caught between his teeth in hopes of stopping the grin that begged to stretch across his face. “You’re not gonna prank her?” He turns, pointing at the other boy, “We’re not. We are however going to have to work together to figure out how to lie to Uliana though. Because we are so, so dead if we don’t figure this out.” “Morgie le Fay! I am so proud of you!” He laughs, pulling him into his lips. It’s soft, short, barely even a kiss but he relished in it all the same. Morgie was kissing him, he got to kiss him. Whatever was set to happen to them didn’t matter, he could roll with the punches. For a while, at least for the next day, the two not-so-villainous Villain kids could live true to their hearts. That could be enough, for now it would be enough.

“So uh,” (Y/n) pulls back nervously, wiping his bottom lip with his thumb, “Since we already have the tickets to castle coming do you want to“ “Please.”

#descendants #descendants imagines #descendants rise of red #morgie x reader #morgie le fay #morgie le fay x reader #descendants x reader

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sempsimps · 9 months ago

Text

doppelgänger Francis x reader

sooo this is totally sfw within the age rating of the actual game, obviously. also might be inspired by the yagami yato of this man, maybe, slight chance, it definitely gave me some fuel to finish at least, i got over this brain rot quickly and well this took more time than i would of liked so yeah. sorry if my writing sucks :)

tags

mentioned death

mentioned cannibalism

two sides of the same one sided love (kinda)

blood (yep shock horror)

hoon man getting the love he needs <3

a bit of inexperienced writing (oh lord the horror)

sexual tension i guess (but not really)

Heather's the musical reference

British language so scary

it was late at night and door duty is slow like usual, the thing about the job was that 12 hour shifts suck, but in this time where the fear of being replaced by man eating monsters having a roof over my head and a job was quite reassuring, and well despite the company not really caring I'm glad that i didn't have to do more work then i could be awake for also my co-worker Emily she is amazing and could make a banging cup of tea, and well she likes the fact there's not nearly that many doubles at day, less work obviously. the night is tougher, way more doppelgängers at this time some were very convincing and did make me want to scream on the inside becuse of the anxiety it caused..... but i did like a challenge. also, i knew that most of the apartmenties were inside as Emily ticks them off the list and added the names who had a reasonable excuse for not being on there, and hey, i haven't died. yet despite my complaints there was a golden reason why i liked this job, and that was the resident tired eyes Francis, but he never really talked that much and it kinda made him ideal mimic bait, so i cant get attached i mean i really shouldn't as they really did try him the most for some reason.

i yawn as i relaxed into my office chair stretching my arms with a stratifying click 'mhhh almost over its 10 45 so 1 more hour and franci-' caught in my thoughts so much but the white uniform snapped my attention 'speak of the devil-! wait...' and as quickly as it came it left, as i seen the deep sunken abyss of "eyes" and a smile 'ah, i see its hoon' he really did try to get in, acting normally handing the papers over with an almost correct ID and entry form but just ya know slightly off on the looks and all he says is hoon is kind of revealing. i smiled and waved in greeting.

"Ah, hello there, nice try hoon, but i can see you. Good try though, almost nailed that ID too."

"hoon hoooon!"

"ill take that a good response"

i politely gave back the ID and smiled, throwing the entry form in the bin with the rest, so it isn't as easy to get in. Also, some of them are funny anyway. back to it i found this particular one almost as enduring as the original i was found of him so to speak, but if he got too good then off he goes and that might be a toxic trait but ill entertain him for now.

"Come on man, you know the drill, i caught you. You walk away. Have a good night though."

"hoon..."

he held his head down in disappointment and trudged away, when i was sure he left i called the D.D.D,the emergency shutters come down and footsteps can be heard by the men, i knew hoon wasn't there but to keep up the appearance to not get me fired, i had to make it seem that he keeps escaping, and not me letting him do so nooooo. the shutters come up, and the hazmat suit explains the situation in that boring tone like always.

"The clean up is complete, but the company will search for that double ganger that got away......"

yep, the same stuff zoning all that out. 'blah blah blah Jesus Christ, so much talking, just leave, please.' i kept smiling with zoned out thoughts as they spoke.

"You can continue your job"

"mh hm thanks"

the clean-up crew left slowly, god so slowly, like today, so slow. i looked over to the clock 'uuuuhhh 11 15 a half an hour till Francis gets here from delivering milk. poor soul to be fair he was half a workaholic' picking at my nails as a distraction from the boring day i seen another white milk man uniform i smile as i seen Francis, immediately going to work as he passed his paper through. but if i looked at the clock, only a few minutes passed.

"hi there"

i politely greeted, giving a small wave like i do for him 'wait it might not be him.' My face turned serious quickly.

"hm hello..."

'Huh, is he tired, or is that voice lower?' Suspicious, but i checked over the entry form, and that looked all good. now the ID 'logo yep date uh huh spelling' with the file i looked back and forth 'okay looking good finally number lets see 2 3 5 5 6' i look at the ID '2 4 5 5 6. wait 4?' Looking back over the file 'that's wrong damn doppelgänger. welp gotta kill this one he's too real.' i passed back the papers roughly, my face turning sour.

"welp, here ya go Francis, any last words?"

i didn't let him finish becuse as soon as i passed the paper through roughly i reached over with my other hand and pressed the emergency button, and speed dialling the D.D.D to get this near replica out of here, the shutter that came down was rattling from the force of the doppelgänger hitting it trying to escape, which was normal. and then silence as the shutter comes up, the now comforting yellow suit began to talk.

"The clean-up is complete. You can continue your-"

The hazmat suit slammed into the glass making a small crack, a gradient green hand with black claws dug into the back of the head, blood seeping out and staining the yellow suit my eyes followed the arm to the doppelganger of Francis i had just delt with 'oh shit this is a fucking problem' the yellow hazmat fell to the ground the hand returning to "normal" and that face comes into view. blood dripping of the perfect features, his voice lower than it should be its unnerving 'and hot- nope nope stop there wrong.' opening the desk draw digging in it for a neatly written number to only be called if the D.D.D fails. 'Where's that post-it note' a loud thud broke my thoughts, and I cautiously looked up to the double of Francis. his hand against the glass smearing some blood on the clean surface some spilling into the small crack made a few seconds earlier.

"Oh darling, how come you didn't let me in? My appearance is flawless. Entry form has nothing wrong with it, I know I'm on the list today."

He looked confused 'cute wait no evil' since I passed the papers through he picked up the slightly crumpled ID and gave an amused smirk flipping it around and pressing it to the glass so I could see it.

"Ah, I see you did read that silly ID number. You're not like the others, you're smart, and that makes me want to devour you even more."

My hand starts to tremble as I kept looking for that stupid note. The doppelganger tuts lightly with a small chuckle.

"Come on~ your phone friends can't help you. and you wouldn't want to create more of a mess~ look honey! all those delicious bodies already here"

He licked his lips cleaning them from the blood giving a satisfied hum 'oh shit that's hot- nope nope not the time' i couldn't bear to look past him at the amount of people dead, opting to keep looking for the number i knew was in this stupid desk 'come on, come on where is this fucking thing' my hand touches the gun at the back of the draw 'I shouldn't have to use this'

"OPEN THE DOOR, please open the door. Can we not fight anymore, please come on, open the door? You're scared i see that, I can set you free come on let me inside open the door open opEN OPEN!"

Teeth beared now sharp and tinted yellow eyes the same shade. His hand slammed down on the glass with an open palm he realised it wasn't working, quickly far too quickly, and he used his fist rattling the pane in its hold the crack getting bigger every thud my movements speed up 'shit shit shit shit shi- ah! there I got it.' I gripped the paper roughly and slammed the emergency button and dialled the never before used number

"DARLING YOULL NEVER KILL ME IVE BEEN WATCHING YOU FOR WEEKS ILL COME BACK"

"Hello you have contacted the-"

"YES I KNOW SEND HELP D.D.D AGENTS DOWN"

"Don't worry .... we have dispatched people to your area" BEEP

The slamming of fists and that sickening sound of flesh tearing. its the noise doppelgangers make when they lose their disguise, it made me nauseous my head dizzying from it I heard the glass smash but the metal kept me safe it was barely dented before I heard the screams of the beast and gun shots my breathing uneven my legs to my chest in the chair arms wrapped around my body in attempt to comfort myself it all went silent my heart drops in my chest but as the shutter came back up a more human looking hazmat suit greeted me rather than the round ones another one putting a new pane of glass replacing the broken one.

"Thank you for contacting us. we will inform the D.D.D of the deceased agents and give you good reference. Unfortunately, the doppelganger got away"

"Wait, what!?"

They left quickly, some carrying black bags, not saying a word 'he got away. How?' I slowly came out of my shell I had built temporarily, taking in some deep breaths. unwrapping my arms and lowering my legs back into my chair. 'I'll have a breakdown when I'm off the clock.... oh speaking of how long till Francis is here 11 55 he's late.... of course just making my day wors- never mind night is better' there he was passing an ID and entry form i already had his folder out and checked it over intensely giving a little sigh.

"mh, hello doorman you seem worked up tonight"

"haha yeah just some difficult doppelgängers, ya know"

"ha yeah uh.... I've been meaning to ask, would you like to get food sometime"

i opened the door for him and smiled wearily giving the correct paper back to the real Francis.

"yeah that would be nice have a goodnight Francis"

okay finally over Jesus Christ this took way longer than i wanted it to take becuse i have got another 3 fics stacked and schoolwork so I'm glad its over but i still don't know how to end this shit sorry if my writing sucks :]

extra note: brownie points if people spotted the heathers reference

#thats not my neighbor #doppleganger #francis mosses #tnmn milkman #tnmn doorman #doppelgänger Francis mosses #francis x reader #tnmn francis mosses

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somnolenthour · 6 months ago

Text

𝔾𝕠𝕕 𝕠𝕟𝕝𝕪 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨𝕤

This is a gift drabble based on chapter 5 of @makeyoumine69 's fic "Till death do us part". Please check it out! Becca my beloved♡

Content warnings: Drug use and overdose

Loss of control.

His upbringing was specifically tailored to teach him how to always be in control of his situation. His father (the hardass he was) made sure that if anything were to ever happen, he could rest easy knowing that his son knew what to do. But that accounted for things like finances, sudden family emergencies, maybe even the fall of man. But Patrick couldn’t think of any scenario that involved what was happening to him; His body seized at first, muscles knotting themselves tight as he collapsed with a grunt of pain before a flash of heat broke him out into a sweat. The only thing he was thankful for was that he was still on his bed when he collapsed like a stack of cards.

The girl he hired was gone in an instant but it wasn’t like he could ask for her help when his jaw was laced so tight that instead of crying “Christie!” like he swore he had enough strength to, all he could muster was a croak from the back of his throat. That’s when he dipped below the surface, eyes too heavy to keep open anymore. His body was lead and his sheets became an unending abyss of sterility that once brought him comfort even when he was restless. His heart was clawing at the bars of its cage as it beat hard enough to cut off his hearing. He hoped he was still breathing because every intake of air was met with a twist of copper and he was sure his lungs were filled with it.

What a way to fucking go…

Would he be remembered fondly? Would people cry?

Would he be remembered at all?

It seemed so easy to just let go, let death take him. Fuck his eyes suddenly stung… Maybe he should…

“Patrick, Patrick, can you hear me?!”

Light brimmed his eyelids and he wanted to tear his eyes open, move just enough to see her. If he was going to die maybe she could see his eyes and know everything he’s held in his heart. God he felt so fucking cold, beads of sweat crystalizing into painful shards of frost against clammy skin. Something parted his lips and breathed life into his crying lungs, his oxygen starved body begging for more.

Hope.

God, how he forgot that emotion..

He needed to hold onto it, make it his own. With newly found strength he grabbed for it, wrapped his arms around it with what little grip he had. He parted from it when he could breathe again, finally able to fight the current and open his eyes. His angel before him wiping her mouth and saying something but it was hard to hear, parting from his side again like everyone else in his life… No.. Becca wouldn’t leave him.. Would she?

She returned to him, bringing him a shaky sense of comfort as she caressed his cheek. He was still struggling to breathe but he’d be fine, he’s had worse.. Would it always have to get worse? Would she lea- The prick of the needle in his arm distracted him for a moment before his eyes welled and blinded him with tears that seared his skin. He was so fucked up to her and she still found it in her to spare him, save him from a death that others would’ve thought he deserved. “Thank you” were words heavy on his heart and mind but instead he took her hand. “Don’t…Don’t leave me…” His voice cracked as he struggled to find his voice again, another wave of sobs shaking his body. She didn’t know how much he loved her at that moment and she’d never know how much he always did.

Becca talked about medicine and his family’s private doctors.. He couldn’t care less, her life was in his hands and he let her have it for now. He trusted her. God, he was terrified.. “Y-Yes…I understand…” He used what strength he regained to crawl a bit to her, wrapping himself around her, pulling her close because he needed her. He buried his head in her neck, her scent so comforting to him.

Then he remembered.

“I’m doing everything in my power not to break your fucking neck right now!”

The slam of his door, the venom in his voice. His hands shook as he balled up her scrubs in his hands, curling into her. “Oh God…” He was such a piece of shit. How could he do that to her? “I’m sorry… Please don’t go…” His tears stained her shoulder and he promised himself he’d buy her new scrubs later. “Don’t go..”

Her lips were soft..

He loved her so much…

He just didn’t know what to do..

“I love you Patty..” Her words echoed in his head.

#american psycho #patrick bateman #oc x canon #patrick bateman x fem!oc #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman x oc #american psycho fanfiction #christian bale x reader #christian bale fanfiction #american psycho oc #rebecca rice #my writing

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dixonsdarkelf · 4 months ago

Text

Finding Myself, Finding You: Chapter Eighteen

Masterlist

AO3 link Wattpad link

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist <3 (18+ only, MDNI)

We get a little sneaky peeky into Daryl’s feelings in this one and he’s such a sweetie pie it just makes me melt 🖤

Story is 18+ for mature content/themes, minors do not interact please

TW/CWs for this story--implied/referenced past rape, canonical violence, non-canonical violence, blood, gore, referenced past suicide, swearing, surgery, excessive drinking, nightmares, panic attacks, mention of scars, vomiting, amputation, medical procedures, non-con medical procedures, referenced past medical torture, referenced past drugging, attempted sexual assault, panic attacks, mental health struggles, referenced sibling death, referenced parent death, PTSD

Each chapter will have its own TW/CWs listed

This story, Lydia Vector, her family & bestie, and Jake (c) me, TheVeganDarkElf

TWD & its characters (c) AMC & Robert Kirkman, the writer of the comic series

TW/CWs for this chapter--swearing, alcohol consumption, excessive drinking to the point of blacking out, a man being creepy, trying to get a drunk person alone, mention of vomiting and choking

Word count: 3.4k

People started arriving in droves shortly after, placing the food they had worked so hard on on the infirmary table and adults lining up for drinks. The sun was just starting to go down, and the sun was casting a beautiful glow across the whole community. Eric even helped Aaron get downstairs and onto their porch, and he looked so happy to be out of the house again. I immediately ran over when I saw him. Aaron was my first friend at Alexandria, and he held a special place in my heart. It made me happy to see him enjoying himself.

“Oh my God, you’re outside!” I yelled, throwing myself down onto the porch and hugging him, “how does it feel?” Eric sat down on the other side of Aaron, leaning against the pillar on the side of the steps.

“It feels great, I won’t lie,” he replied, “but how are you? You look amazing. By the way you owe me a—“ he paused and lowered his voice to a near whisper, “Daryl update. I wanna know how things are going.” I rolled my eyes and giggled a little. I had gone to see Aaron over the last few weeks, of course, but I was more conservative with the information I shared, keeping a lot of the details of the small, intimate moments we had to myself. However, I did promise him a more formal update eventually.

“Thank you. And you’ll get your update, I promise. But later. I’m getting drunk tonight,” I explained.

“Good for you. You deserve a day to let loose a little.” I leaned forward and looked next door to my place, seeing Daryl stepping out and looking around, probably for me. His eyes wandered over to us, and I waved for him to come over.

“I’m gonna go with Rosita and get drinks. What do you two want? We’ll grab them for you,” I offered. They gave me their orders, and I got up to join Rosita, but not before stopping to talk to Daryl on the dirt path.

“Look who came outside,” I said, tilting my head to gesture to Aaron, “I’ll be right back with a whiskey for you.” I softly and flirtatiously touched his arm as I walked away. I knew Daryl wasn’t too keen on a lot of physical touch in public, so I always kept it very subtle and minimal, if any at all.

“So Vector, what are you starting with?” Rosita asked as we got in line.

“Something strong,” I said, laughing it off and pretending that it was a joke. It was far from a joke though. “Normally I only drink wine, but I can be a fruity cocktail girl if the time is right. I also have Aaron and Eric’s drinks of choice. And I’m gonna grab Daryl a whiskey. What about you?”

“I’ll join you in that fruity cocktail journey,” she said. We got to the table and poured our drinks, and I poured Eric and Aaron’s. I picked up mine and tossed it back in nearly one swig, slamming the plastic cup down on the table and pouring the same thing again. “Geez Vector, take it easy girly.”

“Told you,” I said, pouring a whiskey neat for Daryl, “trying to get very, very drunk.”

I have no memory of anything after that moment.

*Changing to third-person perspective for the rest of this because Vec is about to be plastered*

Vector grabbed her drink, along with Daryl’s and Aaron’s, and Rosita grabbed hers and Eric’s. They walked back to the men, giving each of them their beverages.

“Thanks Vec,” Daryl said, taking the cup from her. She gave him a smile before tossing her second drink back.

“Anytime.” Aaron and Eric chuckled at her, but Daryl didn’t, unsure of why it was funny that she drank her drink so quickly. As far as he knew, it was her first, and would probably be one of her only.

“Hey, Maggie and Michonne are here,” Rosita said, jostling Vec by the shoulder. Vec turned and looked over her shoulder, seeing Rosita running over to their friends, the three of them looking excited to see each other.

“If you need me, you know where to find me,” Vec said before she turned and skipped over to join the other women. Aaron took a sip of his drink as he watched her for a moment before turning to Daryl. He had an idea.

“She looks really pretty,” Aaron said, giving Daryl a nudge with his elbow, “what do you think Daryl? You think she looks pretty?”

Daryl swirled his whiskey for a moment, watching Vec hug her friends and laugh about something one of them said, as he tried to find his words. “Yeah. Real pretty.”

She wasn't just pretty. She was empathetic, kind, caring, warm, compassionate. And beautiful. Stunning. Absolutely gorgeous.

She was an incredibly soft thing in an incredibly hard world. Not soft like she couldn't take care of herself, like she was spineless, like she couldn't fight. Soft like kind, caring, like the horrors of the world hadn't changed who she was at her core. Soft like still seeing the good in people and believing everyone deserved a chance. Soft like never judging a book by its cover and giving everyone the same compassion, respect, and empathy unless they proved they didn't deserve it.

She was the most beautiful thing in the apocalypse.

“You two spend a lot of time together.”

“Mhm.” Daryl wasn’t born yesterday, He knew what Aaron was doing. Yeah, he had talked about Vec and his feelings for her, but only to Carol, and he kept it short and simple and left out a lot of details. The details stayed safe in his mind under lock and key. Until he could garner up the courage to tell Vec.

“I can see why. She’s pretty cool,” Aaron said. He took a sip of his drink. “And having a name like Vector? Badass.”

“Yup.”

“Aaron! Long time no see man!” Glenn, Daryl’s saving grace, called out as he wandered over to them.

Daryl spent his time keeping an eye on Vec when he wasn’t talking with Glenn, Aaron, or Rick, who found his way over to the group as well. He liked watching her enjoy herself, surrounded by people she cared about, but he wanted to make sure she was safe.

Vec spent her evening with Rosita, Maggie, and Michonne, the four of them drinking and goofing off like sisters. She kept drinking, not on an empty stomach, but a stomach with very little food in it for the amount she was drinking. She had more drinks than she could count, and no one was stopping her. She was dizzy, dozing off, slurring her words, and completely unaware of what was going on around her. But it was doing what she wanted—numbing the pain.

As the sun went down and it started to get dark, people took to sitting on porches and sprawling out on the grass, winding down from hours of excitement. Michonne left with Rick to go back to the kids, and the other three got up from their spots on the ground to give her hugs to send her off.

One of the guys from gate duty approached Vec, placing a hand on her shoulder to get her attention. She turned around, and he held his hand out to her.

“You’re Vector, right?” he said, extending his hand out further when she didn’t return the handshake, “name’s Jake. You look very nice.” She didn’t shake his hand, just gave him a friendly nod.

“I know,” she slurred, swirling her drink in her hand. The look on Jake’s face indicated that those two little words had left a massive bruise on his ego.

“Listen Jake, I don’t think she’s interested,” Rosita said. He tried to hide the look on his face, to hide his bruised ego to no avail.

“She doesn’t even know me,” Jake replied. His voice was becoming increasingly agitated.

“Don’t need to know you to know she’s not interested,” Maggie snapped, “I’m two seconds away from throwing this drink in your face. Now leave.”

Jake reached out and grabbed onto Vec’s forearm. “Hey, let’s say you and I take a stroll. Get to know each other a bit.” She shook his arm off, and he grabbed on again, a little more forceful this time.

“Fuck off,” Vec said, trying to tug her arm away, “or you’re gonna find out.”

Even in her drunken state, Vec still didn’t take any shit from men.

Jake continued to try to coax Vec away from the group, talking about just wanting to talk to her and get to know her. And despite the protests of her and her friends, he wasn’t letting up. But his actions weren’t going unnoticed.

Daryl decided that was enough. He got up from the porch steps and snaked his way through the crowd of people, inserting himself between Jake and Vec, knocking Jake’s arm out of the way and bumping him slightly. Vec looked up at him and smiled when she felt his hand on her back.

“Hello you picturesque human being,” she said, leaning over and resting her head on him.

“Who comes up with picturesque when they’re drunk?” Maggie whispered Rosita, laughing a little. They watched Jake walk away, disgruntled and mumbling curses under his breath. Curses likely directed at Daryl for “cock-blocking” him.

“Hey sunshine, ya doin’ ok?” he asked. She nodded slightly and took another long sip of her drink.

“Mhm,” Vec hummed. A little bit of her drink spilled out onto her lips, and she wiped the back of her hand across her mouth to remove it. “I’m fffffucking fantastic.” She leaned into Daryl a little more and rocked her head back and forth on him. Maggie and Rosita were doing their best to conceal their pleased expressions. Neither of them could deny that Daryl and Vec looked super cute together. Her soft demeanor contrasting Daryl’s rugged personality—they complimented each other nicely.

“How much has she had?” Daryl asked. He was becoming a little concerned as he’d never heard Vec talk like this before. The only time he’d ever seen her drunk, she was still speaking clearly, just very dizzy. She’d never been so drunk that she was slurring her words. Maggie shrugged in response.

“A lot more than three glasses of wine, I can tell you that much,” Rosita explained, recalling the conversation her and Vec had before the dinner started, “she did tell me earlier that she was looking to get very drunk tonight.”

“And ya didn’t ask her why?” he snapped, “no one gets this drunk ‘less they tryna forget somethin’.”

“She’s a grown adult Daryl. She can get shitfaced if she wants,” Maggie said.

While he knew she was right, that Vec was her own person and could make decisions for herself, he just wanted her to be safe in the decisions she made. All he wanted was for her to be happy and safe. And ideally, with him by her side. He cared deeply about Vec, cared about her in a way he hadn’t cared about another person before. He wanted to wrap her up in his arms whenever he walked in the door after a long day, wanted to sit with her and comfort her when she cried, to cozy up to her at night and feel her soft body against his. He liked Vec. He liked her a lot.

Hell, sometimes, in the safety of the confines of his own mind, he even used the L word.

“I’m just a lil tipsy,” Vec chimed in, pulling Daryl from his thoughts. She swung her cup out in front of her to point at her friends, as if that would prove her point that she was “just a little tipsy.”

Daryl stepped in front of Vec and leaned over so that they were at eye-level. “Ya sure you’re ok?” She giggled a little and avoided eye contact with him as she slurred out her response.

“I just want the pain to stop.”

His heart was breaking for her. Whatever this thing was that disturbed her sleep every night, it was effecting her during the day to the point that she was looking to black out to numb the pain. Sweet little Vec, who was there for everyone, and had been there for him more times than he could count, was suffering in silence. Daryl felt awful for not inquiring more, for trying to help more, but he also knew that whatever this thing was was likely a very touchy subject, and bringing it up unprompted and trying to get her to talk about it could make her feel worse.

“‘right, you’re done,” Daryl said, “ain’t gonna let ya poison yourself.”

“I—“ a hiccup cut off her sentence, “I’m fine Daryl. I’m just a weeeee bit tipsy.”

“You’re way past that,” he insisted. He took her cup out of her hand and dumped the remaining drink into the grass, tossing the cup down with it.

“I—I’m too dizzy. Leave me here.” She tried to lower herself to the ground to sit, but he put an arm around her to try to keep her standing.

“Rosita, Maggie, help me get her inside,” he instructed. He reached one arm around her and the other under her legs, scooping her up bridal-style. She put both of her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder. She closed her eyes and started humming, the tune Daryl recognized as the song Vec would often be singing in the shower.

Maggie ran ahead and opened their front door, stepping inside to hold it open for him. He scooted in sideways, careful not to let Vec’s legs smack the doorframe, and Rosita followed close behind. He held her up tightly, not daring to let her slip even an inch.

Daryl would’ve been lying to himself if he said he didn’t absolutely love holding Vec like this.

“Hey Daryl?” Vec said in a sing-song voice.

“Hmm?”

“You’re very handsome, you know that?” She had one arm still draped around his neck and was using her other hand to tap her index finger on his chest with each word she said.

“She’s gonna kill me,” Rosita whispered, just loud enough for Maggie to hear. The two of them were softly chuckling as they followed Daryl up the stairs.

“You’re drunk, Vec,” he said.

“I meant what I said,” she retorted. Daryl kicked her bedroom door open with his foot and gently set her down on the bed.

Maggie and Rosita came in behind him. “We can help her get changed. She looks great, but I don’t think she’d be too comfortable sleeping in it,” Maggie said. Rosita was already digging around in one of her drawers for anything that resembled pajamas.

“The room is ssssssspinnig,” Vec said as she laid back on her bed, “so many pretty colors.” Daryl stepped out and closed the door behind him. He leaned against the wall outside the door, listening in case there was anything Maggie and Rosita needed.

Rosita pulled a pair of tiny shorts out of one her drawers, “alright, come here my dear. Do you want to get into some comfy clothes?”

“Yes,” Vec slurred, “fuck, I can’t wait to get this bra off.” Her friends were no longer holding back their laughter.

“We’re not gonna stick around for that,” Maggie said, “now c’mon.” Vec rolled across the bed until she reached the other side, and she lazily sat up, swaying slightly back and forth. Maggie bent down and helped Vec get her legs into her shorts, pulling them up to her knees. Vec reached and pulled her shorts up under her dress, successfully despite how out of it she was.

“Did you find a shirt?” Maggie asked as Rosita continued rifling through the drawers.

“No, nothing,” she explained, closing the last drawer she checked, “must’ve skipped laundry day.”

Daryl overheard and was already in his room, searching for a shirt of his for Vec to wear. He settled on a long-sleeved black flannel. It was nice and soft and something Vec would probably find comfortable. He knocked on the door, and Rosita poked her head out.

“Here,” he said, holding the shirt out to her, “she can wear one of mine.” Rosita took the shirt in her hands and smirked. She knew Vec would probably like waking up in one of Daryl’s shirts.

“Is it clean?” she teased.

“Ya really think I’d give ‘er a dirty one?” Rosita chuckled and closed the door again, turning to Maggie and lowering her voice in case Daryl could hear. "Her man came in clutch.”

The two of them helped Vec rise to her feet and get her dress over her head. Maggie tossed the dress into a laundry basket in the corner, and they coaxed Vec to hold her arms over her head and get them into the sleeves.

“This’s rrreal soft,” Vec said as the shirt was slid over her body, “it’s like a blanket.”

“I know she doesn’t like to be drunk, but she’s really funny,” Rosita commented, turning to Vec, “this is Daryl’s shirt.” Vec’s face contorted in worry.

“Am I gonna get in trouble?”

“Sweetie, he brought this in for you,” Maggie explained.

“Aww, that’s so sweet!” she gushed, her face lighting up, “he’s so nice.” She let out another hiccup. “Guys, I think I—“

“I think you should be going to sleep,” Rosita cut her off. Vec fell backward onto the bed, her body bouncing off it once. She closed her eyes and went back to humming the same song as before, kicking her legs gently over the side of the bed. Her friends walked around her, avoiding her kicks, and stepped out into the hall to talk to Daryl.

“Do you want us to stay? Help make sure she’s alright?” Maggie asked. He shook his head.

“Nah, it’s ok. I got it,” he assured, “Imma keep an eye on her. Thanks for helpin’. She’s lucky to have friends like y’all.”

Rosita gave him a smile and a nod. “You go be with her. We’ll let ourselves out.” The two of them went downstairs, and Rosita flipped off the lights before they headed out the front door. Daryl gently knocked on the door before letting himself into Vec’s room.

“Alright sunshine, let’s get you to sleep.” He flipped off the light, and the light of the moon coming in through the window illuminated every surface. He walked around and reached out to help her up. Vec pulled herself to her feet and wrapped her arms around Daryl’s neck for a hug.

He loved seeing her in his shirt. It was baggy on her, the sleeves just a little bit too long, and it just covered her shorts. The way that it hugged her curves, knowing that it would have her scent on it when she took it off…he was obsessed.

“I don’t wanna,” she groaned into his neck, followed by another hiccup.

“You’ll feel better in the mornin’,” he insisted. He held onto her until she was sat down, and he knelt down and grabbed her by the ankles, gently lifting her legs up and into bed. She moved up to rest her head on her pillow and rolled onto her side, facing the door. Daryl took her favorite blanket, which ended up balled up at the foot of the bed, and draped it over her, making sure it covered her bare legs to keep her warm.

“Hey Daryl?”

“Yeah Vec?”

“Can—“ she yawned, still slurring her words as she continued, “can you help me stay awake? I don’t…I don’t wanna have another nightmare.”

“I’ll wake ya if ya start stirrin’,” he reassured. She closed her eyes and yawned again before going back to humming the same song she was before. Daryl slid down the wall by the door, resting up against it and stretching his legs out in front of him. He was going to stay there all night to make sure she wouldn’t choke on her vomit if she threw up, wake her when her nightmares started, and be there to reassure her that everything was ok, as she’d likely be freaked out about not being able to remember most of the events of the night prior.

As he sat there, watching her roll around and hum her little tune, drunk out of her mind to where she certainly wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning, he asked himself the same question over and over again.

What the hell are you running from, Vec?

Taglist: @raddydaddydude

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catholic-character-tournament · 2 years ago

Text

Round 1 - Side B

John Gaius art cred @exmakina

Propaganda below ⬇️

book quote from the chapters where he's relating how he got necromantic powers and people freaked out!! this is pre-apocalypse and resurrection so it's implied he took a lot of inspiration from this incident . He said, Then we took off. Thread after thread on message board after message board. People wanting proof. People asking what the fuck it meant. People talking about the LUCIFER telescope and saying we were aliens. People calling me the Antichrist, which was a trip. People writing up these long posts on how the trick was done, how I got the meat into the pie. Was I fake? Was I real? If I was real, what did it mean? Suddenly there were hundreds of people, all there at our front door. They came in caravans, they were sleeping in their cars or putting up tents. A hell of a lot of them had flown out internationally. He said, Some of them wanted to see the miracle. Some of them wanted my help, like, Oh, you’re the magical death man, can you do something about my body? Can you fix my fibromyalgia? Thing was, I could. That surprised me. I could take out their tumours. I could fix their macular degeneration. Big damage was easy, unless they’d actually lost the limb or whatever. Couldn’t grow those back. But I spent hours and hours a day playing Jesus. That was nice, those were some of the nicest hours I got to spend. He said, But when you’re doing the whole Go, my child, your knee cartilage is fixed, you’re going to get a lot of visitors. I had to turn people away because I had to eat, I had to sleep, even though I didn’t want to. M— had brought in her best friend, the nun, and I was worried I was going to get the Antichrist bit from her too, but she was just like: stop doing this! Read your Bible! This was Christ’s whole problem! I was like, What are you talking about, Jesus cured the lepers and everyone was all, Hooray, thanks man. M—’s nun was all, Are you kidding, Christ never said no and never asked anyone to pay and got way too much attention and brought the heat down on everybody. Christ didn’t keep to office hours, she said. Don’t do that. He said, So we limited Jesus stuff to one hour a day, and I always had to eat breakfast. But by then the whole world was on our doorstep.

look this is kind of weird but he is the only survivor after nuclear bombs destroy the earth and he has weird necromancy powers so he revives his friends and a few other people to be his subjects and basically makes himself a god to them. there's a lot of layers since he's literally the only character in the entire series who remembers the world before and has a concept of the religion he's copying for his own. he treats the other characters like toys he can push around for his own amusement and everything is a joke but he does this world-weary act that somehow gets the reader to kind of feel for him even when he's being atrocious. and he's the only one who remembers memes. which is a torture all of its own.

I said "yes" but to be more clear: he was canonically Catholic when he was still mortal, but that was 10,000 years ago and he kind of killed everybody on the planet. Just slightly. Some of them got better. Now he's the Emperor Undying and his empire is very Catholic-coded.

Frank

He was in training to become a priest and! Fun fact! Is second generation immigrant!

#john gauis #the locked tomb #frank castle #the punisher #cct polls #tumblr tournament #tumblr bracket #tumblr polls

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crusherthedoctor · 9 months ago

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Top 5 Sonic Final bosses? :)

This is counting "regular" final bosses as well, in the case of those that have a true final boss. Spoiler though: they're all Eggman. :P I swear this wasn't on purpose, it's just that the other villains who make up a final boss often tend to be underwhelming for one reason or another.

5. Nega-Wisp Armor - It may be a bit on the easy side, but since Colours marked the first 3D title where Eggman was the uncontested final boss from all angles, it holds a lot of significance to me as a result. That aside, it's also cool that Eggman gets to use the Wisps against you... even takes the announcer with him. >:|

4. Egg Diablo - I think I've become this boss fight's biggest stan at this point lol. I get why some parts might piss players off, but for the most part, I genuinely enjoy how challenging this one is. Its design provides a neat shogun spin on the Death Egg Robot template, it has a lot in common with the Great Eggman Robo (see below), and I love how Eggman segues into phase 2 by cockblocking your victory.

3. Egg Viper - One of the most famous examples here. Killer design, legendary meme, and an ending that always gets me hyped. I'm not a Michael Bay, but I love that explosion so much.

2. Egg Wizard - A very unique and underrated one. Thanks to the Jeweled Scepter, Eggman (and Nega, but fuck him) shows off a selection of unconventional magic-based attacks. The fight itself is quite fun too.

1. The Death Egg/Doomsday finale - I consider the endgame of S3&K to be one of the best in the series, largely because of how well it incorporates Eggman's absolute refusal to give up. There are gods who get Big Oof'd after one fight, meanwhile this man keeps going again and again. And all this after the rest of S3&K, which of course had many other moments where the doctor gave his 110%.

Honorable mentions: The original Death Egg Robot cause of how iconic it is, SA1 Egg Walker cause of the significance it has for Tails and Eggman's own demeanour in the cutscene leading up to it, Perfect Chaos for being probably the least shit Super Sonic boss in a 3D installment, the Egg Shrimp in Advance 2 for what it says about Eggman and Sonic's characters with how quick they are to kidnap and save a random woman respectively, Emerl in Battle cause of the emotions surrounding it, Egg Salamander in Rush cause ~wrapped in black, wrapped in black~, Alf-Layla-wa-Layla cause Sonic gets to beat the shit out of Erazor "Domestic Abuser" Djinn, the Mega Death Egg Robot in Forces cause of the genius of Eggman storing a second mech inside the first one, and finally - despite its, er, complications - the Black Dragon in Superstars, cause seeing Sonic's friends help him out during it is extremely appreciated by me after years of them standing around like cheerleaders whenever it's final boss time.

#Crusher's Asks #Opinion #Dr. Eggman #Sonic 3 & Knuckles #Sonic Adventure #Sonic Rush Adventure #Sonic Colours #Sonic Superstars

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waterfallofspace · 2 years ago

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Can I send you three different asks? No obligation to fill any, but if one strikes your fancy by all means go for it. So, um, here are the numbers for S/oukoku. 52/53 and/or 77?

Hello!! Thank you for the ask, and yes ofc, the more the merrier, I'm THRILLED to receive asks, especially requests because it means someone enjoys my writing!!

I've seen the rest, and I intend to fill them all, but for now I will start with this one and work my way through them! Thank you again, it feels like an honour to receive a request from you, I hope I can do it justice!! 1.9k words, prompts 52, 53, and 77, story under the cut! 52: “Did you just sneeze?” 53: “Bless you?” 77: Pinching the other’s nose before they can sneeze. (References to mild violence and swearing, in case anyone doesn't like those!)

~~~~~~~

The meeting has only been going for about 30 minutes and three death threats have already been thrown around. Chuuya sits with his feet on the table, hat slightly covering his eyes as he attempts to quell the rising headache that being in Dazai’s presence always seems to bring. ‘The idiot has been quieter then normal this meeting, but even just that stupid look on his face- god it drives me insane.’

“-And so, we must work together? I don’t see any reason the Port Mafia should be involved in this, this petty squabble between you and these ‘assassins’ you claim to have annoyed.”

“Don’t be moronic, should this turn into a full fledged war, the Port Mafia would be losing as much as we would. Our organization-”

Chuuya tunes out again, his attention briefly, against his will, slipping back over to Dazai. At first annoyance floods his mind, but it’s quickly replaced by something else as he watches the man shudder. A hand raises to his face, and another shudder runs through him. ‘Well this is certainly an interesting development…’ Keeping his tone low, wanting to ensure his theory before acting on it, Chuuya nudges Dazai.

“What’s wrong with you, bandage waste?”

A cheshire smile meets him, one Chuuya is quite familiar with, and yet… has never lost its disturbing nature.

“Nothing at all, but how sweet of you to worry about me Chuuya~! I can rest easy knowing if something were the matter, you would have my back!”

Letting out a huff, Chuuya starts to turn back to the meeting, almost missing the watery desperation filling Dazai’s whiskey eyes. Almost. At the next cluster of deep shudders, Chuuya acts, ready for a little entertainment to distract from all the arguing of the bosses.

“Did you just sneeze, Dazai?”

The glare he’s met with is instinctual, ‘I’m not even sure he knows he did it.’ and is quickly replaced by the usual carefree mask. All eyes in the room turn to the man, his nose pinched hard between his fingers as he seems to weigh his options in the span of seconds.

“I did actually, seems something’s- heH’YESHHH’oo-! huh’AYYIESSHH’oo-!”

Chuuya bites his tongue against the yelp that forms, trying in vain to play him almost falling off his chair as intentional. ‘Goddamn shitty Dazai, that was on purpose to scare me, and damn myself for letting it work.’

“Bless you, Dazai!”

Kenji speaks up, Chuuya not missing the way his comment sends chills down Dazai’s spine. ‘Try as you might, you can’t hide this now. What’s your next move gonna be, Dazai?’ Although, just to himself, Chuuya allows his mind to wander, eyes scanning the room.

‘Something’s making him sneeze, but I don’t think any of the usual culprits are to blame here. If anyone had dog fur on them Mori would be sneezing too, and the pollen count isn’t that high, plus if he was sick he just wouldn’t have shown up. No, he walked into this meeting not knowing this was coming, so it’s something he couldn’t have predicted…’

“hEH’TISHHHEWWW-! hahh-! hAH’AIIISHH’uuu-!”

“Bless you again, Dazai!”

The laugh he lets out sounds natural to most, but Chuuya can hear the strangled nature just below the surface. His eyes trace over Dazai’s face, seeing the tint of red forming on his ears, the way his eyes seem narrowed and watery, and finally the twitching nature of his nose. ‘He’s embarrassed, but more than that… he’s far from finished.’ Chuuya’s proven right as Dazai brings a hand to scrub at his nose with just a touch more force then Chuuya feels comfortable with.

“Forgive me for the interruption, we were talking about how the Port Mafia is to blame for setting the assassins into motion, weren’t we?”

It’s phrased as an innocent continuation, but Chuuya sees it for what it really is. A ploy to get the bosses fighting once more, and it works exactly how Dazai knew it would. Immediately Mori stands up, and Fukuzawa matches him, both staring each other down. Kenji and Gin turn their attention to the bosses, leaving only Chuuya watching the trainwreck sitting across from him.

“hhH’MMPFFSHH’uhhh-! aHH’MMMSHHH’huhh-!”

Despite being smothered into his coat, they’re not stifled, and Chuuya can feel the frustration resonating from the man.

“Bless you again, Dazai!”

It’s dripping with sincerity that seems to burn Dazai on impact, a hiss escaping his teeth before he can stop it, which he quickly covers with a laugh and a smile. ‘You can fool them, but you can’t fool me. You’re desperate to get out of here as soon as possible.’

“If you’ll excuse me, I think I need a hint of fresh air.”

The excuse isn’t needed, no one but Chuuya is paying attention anymore, Kenji having stood up to hear better as Fukuzawa and Mori raised their voices even louder. Chuuya’s eyes track Dazai’s rapid movements as he attempts to glide out of the room, nearly running into a wall as he whips around to stifle another sneeze into his shoulder.

“KNNGT-!”

‘Just the one, that must be driving him insane. The other will follow soon enough.’ Chuuya hums lightly, using his gravity to make his footsteps practically nonexistent as he follows Dazai out into the hallway. He watches him duck into a door leading to what he can only assume is an empty room. Following suit, he squeezes himself into the- ‘Oh for fucks sake, a damn closet? Damn it Dazai, even unintentionally you’re a pain in my ass.’

“Chu- What a- are- heH-!”

The panic slipping past his mask is enough to get a smirk painted across Chuuya’s face.

“You didn’t see this coming? Wow, you must be out of it if you can’t even manage such simple predi-”

“hEH’AIISHH’OO-! IZZSHHHUEE-! mMTISHHHEEEWW-! hahh’KNNGT’CHOO-!”

“Christ, Dazai, you’re reall-”

“hehh’INGGT’choo-! hePT’KNGT’choo-! EZZZshh’oo-! heH’aiiiZZSHH’uu-!”

“Are- are you gonna stop anytime soo-”

“hEH’NNGT-! enngt-knxxgt-DTNNGT’choo-! heh’eTSH’uee-! tISHH’uiee-!”

Chuuya can’t help but wince, the nasal quality of the sneezes increasing as the space between them decreases. Dazai’s watery eyes meet his for a second before crushing shut as he raises his hand to his face for another bout that leaves even Chuuya breathless.

“iSHH-ZZSHH-AIESHH-DASSSHH’iiee-! heH’IZZSHH’uiee-! knNT’sheew-! AIIYISHH’oo-EHZZSHH’oo-! eHH-! hEDT- guhhh Ch- Chuuya… wh- what are you doi… doing…”

Staring right back at the watery gaze, Chuuya tries to form an answer, but honestly he hadn’t put that much thought into it. All he had known was Dazai needed to stop so he could breathe, and well… his gloved hand just sorta found its way to his face where it now sits, pinching his nose shut.

“I- y- you need to stop.”

“Ch- Chuuya… I have… I- I gotta… it tic- tickles… hehh-!”

“I know, shit-for-brains, but you gotta breathe before you pass out. I don’t want to explain to the bosses the reason I’m carrying you is because you sneezed yourself into a fucking coma.”

Dazai manages to smirk from behind the teary expression, his nose still twitching against Chuuya’s fingers.

“Is Chuuya enjoying the power he holds, along with my nose?”

A yelp escapes before Chuuya can stop it, a growl right on it’s heels, and he drops Dazai’s nose. The blush that dares to start along his cheeks is quickly suppressed as he watches Dazai’s eyes roll back in his head, nose twitching violently.

“Hahh…. Hehhh… heH-! Achhoo-!”

Its the fakest sounding thing Chuuya has ever heard, no volume or desperation at all, too breathy to be an actual sneeze, and yet…

“Bless you?”

“N- No I… I still… I can’t… Chuuyaaa~!”

“Christ Dazai, fine.”

With that, Chuuya raises a gloved finger, and lets the fabric softly run against the bridge of Dazai’s nose, adding a flick at the tip. The result is instant, Dazai only having enough time to bury his face into Chuuya’s chest to muffle the onslaught.

“hH’MMFFSHHH’uu-! nnNNSHHH’oo-! hAH’AIISHH’choo-! hehH’ISHH’chuuu-! ehh… iHH-! iHH’TSHHH’chhuuuuya-! iZZSHH’chhhuuuya-!”

“Not funny, dumbass.”

Chuuya growls, raising a fist to hit Dazai’s arm with enough force to get a muffle groan from the man, before he ducks back into Chuuya’s chest for the remainder of the fit.

“uHH’MMMFSSHH’IEE-! NNGSHHH’IEE-! Wheew~ Thank you Chibi, that hitching had me in agony, I couldn’t stand it!”

“Oh shut up, I just didn’t want to have to watch your pathetic face anymore, that’s all. And you’re having this dry cleaned!”

Dazai’s eyes meet his, venom soaking his words as he lets the raw quality of his voice shine through.

“I think I’m allergic to Mori’s new cologne.”

The words have the intended effect, Chuuya feeling his face pale a touch. Dazai just smirks in response, raising a fist to rub at his nose.

“W- what?”

“A gift from you I assume? It’s too high quality for him to have bought it. While he does dress well, and carry himself quite formally, when it comes to the finer things in life, he doesn’t have such expensive tastes.”

Chuuya growls, letting just a hint of sincerity escape as he offers,

“It’s not like I knew you were so sensitive to it…”

There’s a look in Dazai’s gaze that Chuuya can only classify as hungry as the man lets his form draw nearer to Chuuya’s body. They stand that way for a minute, breath close enough to touch the other’s face, a lust starting to pool in their eyes, before Dazai lets himself slip back, mask dipping back over his face. He smirks, waving a hand casually in the air.

“It’s not that big of a deal. Plus~ I got to see Chuuya jump! My my, I didn’t realize you were so easily startled Chibi! Reminds me of a cat, or rather, a kitten. Much like your size does~!”

He can’t move fast enough to avoid the kick aimed straight for his chest as Chuuya growls, knocking Dazai back into the shelf behind him. It’s only after a cloud of dust raises from where Dazai crouches on the ground does Chuuya realize his mistake. ‘Shit- was that his plan the wh- whoole… t- time… hehh…!’

“Uh-uh-uh!”

Chuuya manages to pry his eyes open at the feeling of skin against his face, breath catching in a gasp at the sight before him. Dazai stands, mere inches from his face, fingers firmly pinching his nose.

“Eh?! What the fuck are yo- huhh… you doing?! Le- lehhht…. hAHH-! Let go of me!”

“Fair is fair, Chuuya. Eye for an eye, nose for a nose~.”

All Chuuya can manage in response is a grunt, hissing as Dazai moves slightly, the tickle elevating to new highs. His eyes flutter shut once more, the hitching threatening to turn into sneezes on every breath, only Dazai’s grip prolongs it.

And yet, Chuuya makes no effort to remove his fingers. They both know he could, and he’s entirely aware that Dazai’s watching him carefully, but he doesn’t make a move. Instead, he lets his head tilt back, tears starting to form in his eyes.

He manages to get his eyes to flutter open long enough to witness Dazai’s smirk, before the man lets his lips almost brush Chuuya’s ear, whispering two words that get Chuuya’s blood boiling.

“Bless you.”

With that, Dazai lets go, hand returning to scrub at his own nose as it twitches yet again. He pauses at the doorway, letting his head hang slightly back to witness the results of his little experiment. Chuuya, however, notices none of this, stuck instead in a fit that seems set on revenge for being denied so long.

“kesschh’oo-! eschhh’oo-! asshhh’iew-! dnggt-! heh’iSHH’iew-! hih’tishh’iew-!”

“I was right! Just like a cat. Adorable as ever, Chuuya~.”

He easily dodges the punch Chuuya throws, ‘Damnit, ca- ishh’oo-! Can’t see straight throu- esschh’oo-! Through the sneezing-’ giving a wave over his shoulder as he descends down the stairs. Chuuya can’t help but smile as he hears a “IZZSHH’uuee-! Christ.” echo out from the stairwell.

‘Never a dull moment with you. Until we meet again, partner.’

#waterfallasks #waterfallwrites #thank you so much for the ask!!!#i ADORE your content so it feels like such an honour to have you request something!!#andddd i love these guys~~#hopefully its enjoyable :DD #snz #snzkink #b/sd #s/oukoku

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