#I might delve into more situations like this one day

[archonghoul]

A comic I did for Goth's birthday back in 2022! Thinking about Error stepping back into Goth's life and trying to build a relationship with him again hurts my feelings. ;w;

[moumouton4]

Things That Might Be Said When You're Going At It With Them || Demon Slayer characters x fem!reader

A/n : Let's see if I can write for Demon Slayer as well 👀

A/n 2 : Of course Muichiro is aged up. I mean we write for Bakugo or Todoroki as long as they are aged up so I don't see why we couldn't for Muichiro 🤷‍♀️

Warnings : Nsfw, penetrative sex, belly bulge, size kink, rough sex, vanilla sex, riding, mention of breeding, 18+ READERS ONLY and wrap it before you tap it

Masterlist ⚜

I don’t give permission to repost my work, if you want to share it just reblogue it

Word count : 1322

Giyuu Tomioka : It's likely that he's so stressed that you end up whispering in his ear "Don't worry about anything my love. Just move those hips and make yourself feel good" to get him to focus on something other than his intrusive thoughts. However, sometimes the situation can be reversed depending on whether his mind is clouded by desires. Once he even said "Is it my breathing style that is making you this wet ?" Bruh the audacity he can have when he drops his inibitions "No you don't need it for that. It's only your doing" you said making him blush while his confidence skyrocketed. Now that he was at ease you were in for a good fuck / lovemaking, depending on how you guys decided to take it.

Obanai Iguro : Despite his shyness, he had managed to navigate a relationship with you. However, the vision he had of his appearance proved to be a challenge to handle. You gently caught his jaw in your hand before saying "You can kiss me Obanai. I don't care about those scars. I have my share too" There was also that time when you were naked in front of each other ready to delve into your deepest passion but before he told you "I've taken the day off and I intend to take my time with you...if you'll allow me" by accepting you didn't know that 4 hours later he'd still be thrusting carefully and sensually into you. Well he is related to snakes so... it can take some time.

Sanemi Shinazugawa : He can be very sweet in bed, but most of the time he ends up gripping your hips with his hands as he violently pounds into you "Hey hey careful there boy I still need to walk tomorrow" and that's when he adds "Or I could carry you all day. I put up with your ass every day that's the same" he would add playfully. But he's not always like that sometimes his voice breaks the successions of groans and moans and he asks in full vulnerability "Can you hold me a little tighter please ?" and in moments like that when he just needs to feel you there, your heart swells with love for him as you tighten your grip on him, grounding him in the current moment.

Tengen Uzui : This guy and his size kink belly. Sometimes he puts his large hand on your tummy just to feel his shaft move inside you "Tengen you're liking this a bit too much" you teased when you felt him throb inside of you just after he felt the slight bulge in your belly. He gave you back his signature wide grin "Of course I like it ! To have a partner who can take me as well as you is... flamboyant !" he said the last word breathlessly. Then he looked at you a little more seriously and caringly "Do you think I could speed it up a bit ?" he really wanted to make sure he wasn't hurting you. You wrapped your legs around him before answering "Go ahead mister show me how flashy you can be" and with that you were sure he wasn't going to hold anything back.

Muichiro Tokito : Even though he used to have memory troubles, there was one thing he never forgot, and that was how to make you feel good. Thanks to physical memory. As his hips worked meticulously to hit that spot over and over again you whined "Please h-honey" he immediately understood from the urgency in your voice and the way you spasmed around him that you were close. He tried to unhook your legs which were wrapped around his waist "Spread your legs Y/n let me rub your clitoris" he said gently. Of course it only took a few seconds for you to obey, knowing that once again he was going to bring you to ecstasy. When he felt you tighten up he asked "Does that feel good ?" and when you only responded with a little whine he pressed on your clit making you buck your hips upwards. He was such a tease sometimes but at the end he always fulfilled the mission he'd set himself.

Tanjiro Kamado : He's so good and soft, it's like making love to a cloud - if that's even possible lmao. You've said to him several times "You know you can go harder Tanjiro I ain't gonna break '' and each time he completes your requests as if that's all he was waiting for. But he's still the most caring person you've ever meet, sometimes a little too much "Y/n is everything all good ? Do you need a break ?A glass of water ?" and sometimes you have to stifle your chuckles or prevent the side eye "You've just put the tip don't worry I can take way more of you" and that's all it takes to get him off to a flying start.

Genya Shinazugawa : Even if he wanted you so much, you don't even know how the heck you managed to get him in your bed. He is so fucking flustered when he's talking to you. So naturally in bed he is more than his usual stuttering mess "Genya please move" you whined. With his voice husky with desire he replied "I-I j-just don't wa-wanna ngh... come y-yet" he knew you wouldn't mind and that he would be able to satisfy you in another way but he had a certain pride in making you come first. So his hand moved down between your two bodies and began to make faster and faster circles on your clit. He grunted as he felt you tighten around him, but with deep breaths he managed to bring you to the brink of orgasm before he pounded into your tight warmth, leading you both to the release you'd been waiting for.

Inosuke Hashibira : The first time was pretty memorable, you remember having to explain to him why you were doing it "Ino it's another way of showing that we love each other. We're not doing it just to create a pack" and he deadpeaned "But one day we'll make one right ?" Bro was just so cute "Sure baby" you said, caressing his cheek as he thrusted gently and carefully into you. "I-I think I understand what you meant" he said bringing a big smile onto your face which he couldn't help but reciprocate.

Zenitsu Agatsuma : Bro is so loud man that's crazy. When you ride him you have to put a pillow on his mouth because the whole Demon Slayer Corps is going to hear how tight you are "Please pretty boy can you tone it down a little. Someone's going to be attracted by all this noise" you slowed your movements to talk to him "But Y/n-chaaaaan you feeel so soooo goooood !!!" he said as loud as ever. If you wanted him to calm down you had to make him feel even better than better, so sex drunk he'd not be able to talk anymore. You put your thumb in his mouth and with your other hand grabbed the base of his cock before squeezing it as you rolled your hips towards his. It wasn't long before his screams were replaced with little squeaks, his hips bucking to meet yours, your thumb securely wrapped between his lips.

Muzan Kibutsuji : You don’t know why and sometimes he tells you it may be because he was another man in a previous life but it doesn’t make it any clearer when he goes “Cause this is thriller, thriller night. And no one's gonna save you. From the beast about to strike” as he fucks you. You just hope he ain’t going to “Heee heee” when he cums. 

~

~

A/n : I hope you guys liked it ! 🍗🍨 Again my requests are open 🌯🍩

A/n 2 : Yes the link in Muzan's part leads to Thriller 😂

Taglist : @foxxymunson, @cl0vr, @ilovemanypeople, @glossy1pearl, @jane57sstuff

[soulofapatrick]

Falling Into You - Stiles Stilinski x Female Reader 

Summary: you and stiles finally give into your unknown crush on each other

Words: 2.6K

Warning: Heated makeout session; if you squint there's dry humping

Y/N’s POV

Living with Stiles has been far from boring. Ever since my dad was killed and my younger brother - Isaac - went to live with Derek, Sheriff Noah Stilinski graciously opened his home to me. That meant living with Stiles too, and let me tell you, it has been anything but dull. Stiles has this knack for turning even the most mundane day into a storytelling session filled with the antics he and Scott get up to. 

I’ve grown to love it here. The Stilinski house is like a second home, and the sheriff is like a second dad to me. He’s been incredibly supportive, especially during the tough times. And then there’s Stiles. He’s… well, he’s Stiles. Quirky, witty and always wearing that mischievous grin. 

Lately, though, something’s shifted. I’ve caught myself stealing glances at Stiles when he’s not looking. His passion for solving mysteries, his loyalty to his friends—there’s something undeniably endearing about him. Maybe it’s the way he cares for everyone around him, or the way he throws himself into every insane situation without hesitation. But it's more than that. There's a warmth in his laughter, a genuineness in his concern, that makes my heart flutter a bit faster. And as much as I try to ignore it, I can't deny that a crush has been slowly blossoming. 

Living under the same roof, it’s hard to keep these feelings under wraps. I find myself wanting to spend more time around him, hoping for moments where it’s just the two of us, away from the chaotic everyday that is Beacon Hills. Yet, I’m also terrified. What if he doesn’t feel the same way? What if it ruins our friendship or makes things awkward while living with him? 

Stiles is currently sat cross legged on my bed, looking so engrossed in whatever supernatural mystery he's delving into. His dedication is admirable, even if it means sacrificing proper posture for the sake of research. I can't help but steal glances at him every now and then, admiring the furrow in his brow as he concentrates. 

I wish I could tell him how I feel. But the fear of ruining what we currently have, the fear of changing the dynamic between us, it’s suffocating. So instead, I go back to focusing on my assignment, the words blurring on the page as my thought drift back to him. 

The room is quiet except for the clicking of keys and the occasional muttered comment from Stiles. As I sit at my desk, trying to concentrate on the assignment in front of me, my mind wandering again—this time an entirely different scenario and it’s one that feels both exhilarating and terrifying. 

I can’t help but imagine what it would be like to set aside the fear and uncertainty, to sit next to Stiles and lean in, closing the distance between us. What would it be like to press my lips against Stiles’? Would they be as soft as they look, as warm as his laugh? My heart races at the mere thought, a flurry of emotions dancing within me. 

I picture the moment vividly: closing the space between us, feeling the warmth of his breath mingling with mine, and the anticipation before our lips meet. I imagine his hands, tentative yet steady, finding their place on my skin, maybe on the curve of my cheek or the small of my back. How would it feel to have his touch ignite a thousand sparks, to feel the electricity between us? 

There’s a mix of longing and hesitation, the desire to experience that connection, yet the fear of disrupting the comfortable equilibrium we've found in our friendship. But in my mind's eye, it's a beautiful chaos—a leap into the unknown, a chance to explore something deeper, something that might exist beyond our late-night conversations and shared moments.

Before I can continue imagining me and Stiles the said boy breaks my thoughts, “Hey Y/N! Come here,” He speaks, excitement in his voice but his eyes never once leaving the screen. 

I force myself out of the reverie, blinking away the vivid daydreams as Stiles called out to me. His excitement is palpable, contagious even, and I push aside the rush of emotions to focus on the present. 

I rise from my chair, feeling a strange mix of anticipation and nervousness as I make my way to where Stiles is seated. He’s still hunched over the laptop, his attention entirely captured by the screen. With a careful step, I settle on the bed behind him, leaning over him enough to rest my chin on his shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of what’s got him so intrigued. 

His warmth seeps through the fabric of his shirt, radiating against my chest, a sensation I try desperately to ignore. The scent that envelopes me—a blend of old books, faint traces of motor oil and a lingering hint of coffee—should be distracting, but it’s oddly comforting. It’s quintessentially Stiles, a unique combination that feels inexplicably familiar and reassuring. 

I glance at the screen, feigning interest in whatever supernatural phenomenon has grabbed his attention. But truthfully, my focus wavers between trying to understand what he’s showing me and the proximity between us. His presence feels magnetic, drawing me in, yet I fight the urge to let my thoughts drift into forbidden territory. 

“Look at this,” He exclaims, pointing to a section on the screen. His enthusiasm is infectious, and for a moment, I forget the inner turmoil, getting lost in his excitement. 

Stiles is engrossed in explaining something on the screen, his energy palpable. I try my best to keep up, nodding along as he talks, but the proximity between us amplifies every emotion within me. 

Suddenly, he turns his head, excitement lighting up his russet eyes as he tries to make a point. His words trail off mid-sentence, and in that suspended moment, our faces are unexpected close. I feel his breath, warm against my skin, a sensation that sends a shiver down my spine. 

As if in slow motion, I notice every tiny detail—the freckles scattered across his pale skin, the way his eyes dart down to my lips for the briefest moment before meeting my gaze again. My breath catches in my throat, and I’m sure he can heart the erratic beat of my heart. There's a shift in the air, an unspoken tension that crackles between us. His cheeks flush with colour, a shade of red that matches the intensity of my own emotions. I can't tear my gaze away from him, from the way his eyes flicker between mine and the way his lips part, as if searching for words that elude him. 

For a moment, time seems suspended, our silent exchange speaking volumes. I feel a surge of courage and vulnerability intertwine within me, a silent plea for something more, a leap into the unknown. 

But just as quickly as the moment arrives, it slips away. Stiles blinks, breaking the trance, and clears his throat, shifting slightly away. "Um, sorry, got carried away there," he stammers, his voice a tad higher than usual.

The air feels charged with an awkward tension, heavy with the weight of unspoken words. I try to ease the discomfort by standing up, intending to head back to my desk and salvage what’s left of our usual camaraderie. But before I can even take a step, Stiles’ hand shoots out, wrapped around my wrist in a swift motion that catches me off guard. 

Caught off guard by the sudden proximity, I stumble and practically find myself in Stiles's lap. His warmth envelopes me, and for a moment, our heartbeats synchronise in a chaotic rhythm that seems to echo the unspoken emotions between us. 

Stiles’ eyes lock onto mine, a mixture of anticipation and vulnerability swirling within their depths. His tongue darts out to wet his pretty pink lips, a nervous gesture that betrays the intensity of the moment. Before I can fully comprehend what’s happening, his hand finds the back of my neck, drawing me closer. 

In that heartbeat before our lips meet, the world around us seems to still. His touch sends a surge of electricity through me, igniting a fire that I didn’t know was simmering within. And then, finally, our lips touch in a kiss that feels both anticipated and inevitable. 

As our embrace intensifies, the laptop becomes a mere afterthought, pushed aside to make way for the burgeoning heat between us. Stiles's movements are deliberate, his hands finding my hips with a confident touch, guiding me to straddle his lap as our bodies mold together. 

The kiss deepens, the connection between us sparking a newfound intensity. Stiles’ hands, warm against my skin, slip under the fabric of my teeshirt, sending shivers cascading down my spine. His touch is electric, fingers tracing patterns along my hips, a gentle yet possessive hold that ignites a fire within me. I tangle my fingers in his messy hair, feeling the soft strands between my fingertips as I tilt his head back slightly, deepening the kiss. There’s a dominance in his action, a confidence that surprises me but also excites me in ways I hadn’t anticipated. 

His lips move with purpose, fervent and seeking, a silent demand for more as our breaths mingle in the shared space between us. Each movement, each touch, feels like an unspoken confession of desires long kept hidden. 

My heart races as I lean into him, relishing the sensation of his lips against mine, the way his body responds to my touch. And as I lose myself in the passion of the moment, it becomes clear that Stiles, despite his usual playful demeanour, possesses a commanding presence that takes my breath away. 

As the intensity of the moment heightens, Stiles’ touch remains both from and reassuring, his hands guiding me with a tenderness that contrasts his newfound dominance. With a gentle yet firm pressure, his long, nimble fingers press against my back, coaxing me to lower myself onto him. There’s an undeniable pull in his touch, drawing me closer until I’m lying atop him, our chests pressing together in a shared rhythm. Our breaths mingle in the small space between y=us, the heat of the moment making the air around us feel charged. 

His chest rises and falls with each breath, syncing with mine, creating an unspoken harmony. The sensation of our bodies pressed together sends jolt through me, an electric current that ignites every nerve ending. 

As I rest against him, feeling the steady thud of his heartbeat against mine, a rush of emotions floods over me—desire mingled with a newfound intimacy, vulnerability meshed with a sense of comfort in this uncharted territory. 

Stiles's gaze holds a mixture of passion and tenderness, a silent understanding passing between us in the shared silence. His fingers trace gentle patterns along my back, a gesture that speaks volumes, conveying a reassurance amidst the fervour of the moment. His lips part as if to speak but instead, in a very Stiles fashion, a torrent of words spill out in a hurried stream. 

“I-I've wanted to do this for so long, and I'm sorry, I should've asked, I mean, I wanted to ask, but then this moment happened, and I just... I didn't want to ruin it, but I should’ve—" He babbles, the words tumbling out faster than I can comprehend. His apology mixes with an admission that he’s wanted this as much as I have, and amidst his rambling, I can’t help but laugh softly, finding the sudden flood of words endearing. 

Before his apologies and explanations can continue, I decide to silence him the best way I know how. With a gentle yet decisive motion, I cup his face in both hands, capturing his lips in a kiss that speaks volumes, stealing away his words and replacing them with the silent language of our shared desires. 

The kiss is deliberate interruption, a way to convey everything I’ve been feeling in a single moment. It’s a tender yet firm assertion, an assurance that words are unnecessary amidst the eloquence of our connection. 

As our lips meet, I feel a shift in the air, the nervous energy dissipating into something more serene. Stiles’ initial surprise melts into a reciprocated warmth, and soon, the kiss becomes a dance of shared affection and unspoken apologies. In that suspended moment, the kiss becomes a story of its own—a narrative of unspoken emotions conveyed through the gentle meeting of our lips. Stiles's initial surprise gives way to a newfound ease, his lips molding against mine with a familiarity that feels surprisingly natural yet exhilaratingly new.

His touch, tender yet assured, ignites a cascade of sensations. His hands explore, tracing the contours of my back, sending tingles racing along my skin. There’s a delicate balance in his touch, a mix of reverence and longing that speaks volumes about the dept of his emotions. 

As our kiss deepens, I’m enveloped in a whirlwind of emotions. Stiles’ lips against mine feel like a discovery—a blend of softness and fervour, an unspoken language that surpasses any verbal communication. Each movement of our lips is a revelation, a testament to the unspoken connection between us. His closeness has a gravitational pull, drawing me in and enveloping me in a sense of security and desire. In this moment, I feel cherished, desired, and seen in a way that goes beyond mere words. 

The intensity of our kiss, a universe of emotions contained within, is abruptly interrupted by the jarring ring of Stiles’ phone. Startled, we break apart, a shared groan escaping both of us as the moment fractures, replacing by the intrusion of reality. Stiles fumbles for his phone, his expression a mix of frustration and resignation. With a sigh, he answers and puts it on speaker, revealing Scott’s urgent voice on the other end, asking if Stiles had found any leads. 

As Stiles responds to Scott’s inquiries, I take the opportunity to sit back up, adjusting my position so that I’m straddling his waist. The shift seems to catch Stiles of guard, his breath hitching slightly, and I can feel the bulge pressing against my ass. I watch as Stiles bites his lip, a subtle attempt to suppress any involuntary sounds, his focus divided between the phone call and me, shifting on his lap. His eyes meet mine for a fleeting moment, and I can see a hint of frustration at the interruption, mixed with a smouldering intensity that sends a thrill through me. 

Leaning closer, I offer an apologetic smile, silently acknowledging the disruption but unable to resist teasing him but grinding my hips against his, pretending to get more comfortable on his lap. I notice the way his breath catches again and his hands dart for my hips unsure if they want to stop my hips or help me roll them against that growing bulge. 

“Sh-shit,” A moan escapes him and Scott falls silent as Stiles’ cheeks bloom a pretty shade of red, “Fuck, I gotta go, talk later.” And with that Stiles is hanging up, practically throwing his phone on the floor and in one quick moment has us flipped over so I’m laying underneath him. 

“Hi.” I breathe quietly, an ache between my legs. 

“Don’t you ‘hi’ me you little tease.” He grumbles, leaning on his elbows either side of my head. 

“What you gonna do about it?” I challenge, loving the gleam in his eyes. 

Stiles chuckles softly, his eyes dancing with mischief as he leans closer, his breath brushing against my lips. 

"Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea what you've started."

Teen Wolf Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

[tenko-thinks]

Upper moons and an s/o with large breasts

Cw: a reader with some huge honkers. I'm talking a real pair of badonkers. Some HUGE habagah-- anyways, suggestive , mentions of lactation?¿ I'm projecting my back hurts

Ft. Douma Akaza and Gyutaro

Requests are open i encourage them, im not that creative

♡ ------ ♡

Douma

Douma is one person I see that values breasts on a feminine partner. They imply fertility, after all.

And that implies youth. Beauty. Which is quite attractive not only to the part of you that he desires to devour. But also to the part of him that is a.. Man.

His hands are almost always trailing down to your breasts. Resting on the softness there.

He only becomes handsier over time, bolder and pretty uncaring of boundaries. Or public opinion. He has a right to squeeze, he feels.

When he's bored he enjoys them in an almost cat like fashion. Lifting them and releasing them to watch the jiggle of soft flesh.

Absolutely the worst to sleep with though you'll be in bed and a hand with find your tit under your clothing and it's like Antarctica. He thinks your reactions are to die for. So he's going to keep doing it of course.

There's a part of him that wants to delve deeper on the idea of your fertility. Watch your breasts swell. He wonders if your milk would be like drinking your blood? Just as devine?

Also you're twinsies with fat tits congrats

Akaza

Akaza does not strike me as someone who cares about the body of his partner so long as they're healthy.

However he cannot deny his base attraction to. The simpler things in life. If you're well endowed. Well, it only means more of you to love.

And love you he does. He's not great at showing gentle affection but words of affirmation are natural to him.

If you're insecure of your chest? He's there to soothe you.

If you're proud of them and love showing them off? Free hype man.

#1 malewife no matter the form his s/o takes i will die on this hill.

Pull a "my tits feel heavy" and ask him to hold them. It'll be funny i promise.

Gets very flustered around you in the nude however. Pointedly NOT looking at your chest. Save him.

Gyutaro

Living in yoshiwara, Gyutaro has seen numerous women. Most of which bearing a few extra pounds on their chest.

He hardly even knew smaller boobs existed . Sure he knew they Did but big was average to him. So I can definitely see him being more of a tits guy just by nature of his environment.

He's an asshole though , bless his heart. Very much the type to just like. Lightly swat at your boob when you annoy him or catch him off guard.

Laughs if your chest is sensitive, and he will abuse that knowledge. Going out of his way to find situations to tease about it.

He however also knows the downsides of having them as well. Considering he's a brother to a sister in a similar predicament as you. Back pain or whatever.

So to make up for his unrelenting teasing, Gyutaro will often just hold you. Or help you crack your back. On a good day he might give you a shoulder rub if you ask nicely. He will call you a loser or pathetic ♡

He often has Daki bringing you warm compresses or bags of rice to rest on your lower back. When she doesn't cry about it, she's actually surprisingly understanding about the whole situation. Not that she'd say that through her pride.

[obsessive-valentine]

Are your request open? Can I request a sequel to Barbarian?

I know he's kind and everything but I don't think I could give in to him 100%, like yes, probably return the kindness but never love him. Reader feels a lot of guilt about the attack and I think that after the event and realizing that they didn't have much to do in the situation, they just felt numb about everything, living on autopilot except when they are with their dog.

This is just my interpretation and basically a self insertion sorry haha.

I would love to know about their daily lives! Does the barbarian take reader to war with him? (If you delve deeper into my idea) Would he realize that reader doesn't talk to him much? Would he be jealous of the dog?

Requests are always open, I love to hear about people’s thoughts on my silly little characters lol.

I did focus more on the barbarians perspective on the relationship rather the actual complexity of the whole thing and psychological depth of it all, it was a rather shallow Drabble but I’d love to expand more on his character. I’ll see if I come up with any domestic short stories for him in the coming weeks, love that idea thanks :)

Yandere!Barbarian X GN!Reader Headcanons

The barbarian himself isn’t a good person, morally or in any other way, and he knows that. He understands what he’s done to you -pulled you away from everything you’ve ever known or loved leaving it all in tatters- he understands he’s killed innocent and guilty all the same and will continue to do so for the clan to thrive. And he doesn’t feel bad about any of it.

He definitely tries to sympathise with how his greed effects you, but, he doesn’t regret his actions but does understand to an extent how hard this is for you. This is why he tries to over compensate by gift giving and finding it within himself to be gentle and patient, so as not to damage you further (despite that being the polar opposite of how he was raised).

He’s not super emotionally intelligent so doesn’t really know what to do aside from the above. Anyone with common sense will learn fast that they can’t fight him off so it’s very possible to become numb and retreat into the mind. If you wont retreat into his arms he will try make it so you feel comfort in his tent that way you’re not always on autopilot but enjoying a craft or something in your quiet tent if even just for a hour.

Honestly though he doesn’t really mind if you’re on autopilot but does expect you to tolerate him, so if you are adamant on distance or fighting him you might trigger his temper. Like pulling and tugging you around, making you sleep in the same bed no exceptions, raising his voice to remind you who you’re trying to challenge etc.

A very tearful darling is a whole other situation, he cant stand seeing you cry, he’d be sobbing, crying, throwing up on the inside while trying to maintain a poker face and think up a solution.

Onto a lighter topic, the barbarians do move camp every few weeks and that includes reader (dont worry he never makes you walk) they don’t have a permanent home just their tents though our barbarian does intend to settle down at some point once the fighting becomes to much hassle for his ageing bones. But never once does he imagine bringing you into one of his raids, rebellions or battles.

He leaves you at camp with the members that aren’t participating that particular day (like the few women, elders or barbarians that just didn’t go-nobody’s forced to fight every battle, just to pull their weight). And of course your beloved wolf dog who he doesn’t regret, he doesn’t get jealous easily especially of the dog he got you for the soul purpose of cheering you up, if he can’t cheer you up at least the dog can and that’s a win in his books.

He’s really not high maintenance, as long as at the end of the day he load up your plate with his finest hunt and sit near you while you both eat, watching whatever fight breaks out in the clan from a safe distance before he has to eventually step in. There’s not much entertainment in the middle of the woods during the evening so you both take what you can get even if it’s drunken fight.

Maybe he takes you and the dog out for walks or fetch if it gets really boring at camp. Will bring you the best stick he finds for you to play fetch with the dog, he sees how much the dog means to you so he treats it with utmost respect. He’ll let you have control over this one little thing in your life for your own sakes.

Therefore while he would prefer you to love him truly, he doesn’t expect it (mostly because half the time he can’t tell the difference between your compliance and you showing affection), doesn’t stop him from trying though. He’s a saint compared to the barbarians before him... only for you though.

[piratesfromspace]

After the rain (141xReader)

Pairing: Reader x Soap (& implied Reader x 141)

Rated: Mature

Word count: 900

Summary: After being kidnapped and rescued, Rain needs to make sure Soap is still alive

Note: In the same universe as my "Rain or Shine" fic, it is the epilogue of the part 4. Some people requested this chapter, and I was happy to write a little something to offer some comfort to our poor Soap. Reader callsign is "Rain", she's bi and autistic (I am autistic myself).

Content: angst, hurt/comfort, aftermath of torture, medical setting, happy ending (kinda)

MASTERLIST // PART 1 // PART 2 // PART 3 // PART 4

Rain has a hard time opening her eyes. She’s not quite sure where she is, she’s slow to wake up, her brain still foggy from the sleeping pills. But then she moves in the bed, and everything starts hurting. Her muscles are so sore, bruises are painfully blooming under her scratched skin. Her head is heavy, throbbing. She feels like she’s been run over by a humvee. With the pain, everything comes back to her in a second. She rises with a gasp, a shot of adrenaline wringing her guts to the point she thinks she’s gonna puke. 

The light of day is peaking through the half-opened curtains of her room. She’s back on base, and everything is so vividly painful she’s sure it can’t be a dream. The memory of the past few days invades her - their capture, Johnny’s sacrifice to protect her, her crawling on the floor to rest her cheek against his bloody leg when their captor finally stopped. The sudden thought that Soap might not have survived the torture is suffocating her, she can’t breathe, it’s breaking her mind and her heart. Last she saw him he was laying on the heli floor surrounded by medics. 

A flash of white in the corner of her eyes attracts her attention when she finally gathers enough strength to get out of her bed. There is a crisp white strip of paper on her night-stand. It only says “he’s OK” in black ink, and she instantly recognizes Simon’s angular writing. Soap has made it. Tears wet her cheeks without her realizing she’s crying. 

—-

She tucks her fists inside the pocket of her hoodie. A black one that belongs to one of the boys, she can’t really tell which one. She keeps her head down, doesn’t want to cross the panicked gaze of colleagues at her face. She’s sporting various scratches, a mean bruise on the side of her jaw, her skin has a sickly yellow-ish undertone - she looks like shit and she knows it. 

She crosses the base in a hurried bee-line for the medical bay. She probably should call up her captain for further instruction, report to debrief or go see a doctor. But the only thing on her mind is finding Soap. She had always liked him - it was hard not to, he was funny, kind, quite handsome, always laughing. But she knew that he was growing obsessed with her, and it had frightened her at first. Situations like those could easily delve into unpleasant territories for everyone involved. Except it was Soap, smart-ass Soap, kind-hearted Soap, and he made it work even when it was obvious he was sad Rain had chosen Simon instead of him. After Siberia, things didn't really change, they rather shifted. The group was tighter, Rain was not shy with her attraction to the other guys, with her attraction to him. She let Johnny more into her bubble, into her heart. 

And here she is, the wet tracks of tears drying on her cheeks as she leaps through long corridors in search of Soap, when she should get checked for her own injuries, when she should maybe not stay alone like this. Her brain is still drowning in diluted stress hormones and the end trail of painkillers, the mix giving her a distant headache that will probably force her down in a couple hours. For now, she persists. 

When she finally finds him, she’s simultaneously disappointed and relieved to find him alone. Ghost, Gaz and Price must be somewhere else, maybe they just went out for a quick break. She doesn’t know how much time she has on her own with Soap, before someone, a nurse, or one of the boys, comes back. He looks like he’s sleeping. Bandages are wrapped around all his visible limbs, snaking around fingers, his wrists, part of his right arm. Around his head also, his already short hair clearly shaved for access to wounds. One of his eyes is hidden by a plastic shell. His lips are swollen, split in a few places. Skilled hands have been at work here, in dressing his wounds, wiping out dried blood, setting up electrodes and drips. It’s easy to forget how simple it is to destroy, and how labor-intensive it is to heal. The regular bip of the heart monitor is the thing that prevents her from spiraling further down. Alive. Her sergeant is alive. No need to explore the devastating thought of him being gone. 

She climbs on the bed, finds a place against him. His warmth makes her want to cry again. Her own scratched fingers hover over his cheekbones - the skin there is purple - then over his neck, she needs to feel his pulse under her scorched skin. Alive. She tucks her face next to his shoulder, tries to find the familiar smell under the antiseptic. Rain holds him the best she can without risking hurting him more, and decides that’s all she wants to do for the time being. 

That’s how the boys find them when they arrive some time after that. They had been looking for her after Simon had discovered her empty bed. They weren’t really scared. They knew she would be here. Where else? They swore to take care of each other - and that’s what they will keep doing, no matter what.

MASTERLIST

[lingerina]

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ KINKTOBER ⠀//⠀⠀day two

➤ PROMPT praise ➤ 951 words ➤ catwoman!yeji x fem!reader ➤ the many times you narrowly avoided robberies, and the one time you’re caught in the crossfire. ➤ A/N so while i was writing this, i had the actual catwoman in the batman universe in my brain, and i know nothing about that universe. research says catwoman is a jewel thief/antiheroine? so that’s how this prompt ended up like this. however, if you meant like… a cat & woman hybrid? i’m so sorry 💀

Working the closing shift for a jeweler is a risky job, but you have somehow managed to narrowly avoid the robberies that have taken place over the last six months. You either needed to tend to your family business or fell ill, leaving your coworkers to suffer the misfortune of being targeted by money-hungry thieves.

But your luck runs out.

And it runs out terribly.

At the very least, you’re not getting bombarded by a group of robbers. At the very worst, you’re caught in the middle of one robber’s scheme.

‘Catwoman’ is what they dub her. Synonymous for the cat mask, sharp claws, and smooth black bodysuit she dons, Catwoman is infamous for her string of high-profile robberies as well as her rescues of animals and children in dangerous situations. It’s hard what to make of a woman who steals from the elite, but has a heart for the vulnerable.

In this case, you are the vulnerable one, and she spares you no mercy.

Remnants of your white blouse drape over you, barely covering your tits as one swipe of her claws had shredded the garment open. Your pencil skirt is slightly torn up the side from how harshly she pried your legs open, and the infamous crook with gorgeous eyes is settled between them. 

You were so close to clocking out, and now you’re in this predicament. You had contemplated screaming for security because her smooth entrance into the building didn’t trigger any alarms, but your naked pussy—slick with arousal—is betraying you. You almost don’t want to escape because this woman’s touch is magnetic.

.. Also because her sharp cat claws are gliding over your soft skin and one wrong move can reap dire consequences.

“You barely put up a fight,” she informs.

You scoff. “Because you have weapons.”

She raises a sharp brow. “Is that so?”

Your chest gets heavier as you watch her remove one of her cat claw gloves with her teeth. She spits it out to the side where it falls to the floor with a muffled clack. Removing half of her weaponry should put you at ease, but it does the exact opposite because you still don’t know her intentions. She can still hurt you with her bare hands.

You go rigid from her touch. Your hands are bound behind you with duct tape and your ankles are bound to each leg of the chair with even more duct tape, so you can’t retaliate anyway. 

Not that you want to. It’s been too long since you’ve last been pleasured by someone, so Catwoman’s fingertips drawing over your slit might just be what you need. It’s insane to allow a criminal to be so intimate with you, but she knows exactly how to touch you.

“Catwoman-“

“Yeji,” she interrupts.

You tip your head back and heave a sigh as a finger slides into you. She withdraws it, then returns with two fingers, opening you up with how deep she pushes into you.

“Moan for Yeji.”

She goes slow and steady, but she delves deep. Her knuckles come in contact with your slick folds, her thrusts calculated for ample pleasure while testing the waters. You’re used to being drilled—practically jackhammered—hard and fast (which still gets you off eventually), so the sluggish pace is somehow still dizzying.

Perhaps it’s the adrenaline rush of being held hostage by an infamous thief. Perhaps it’s because you’re half naked and dripping all over the public enemy’s fingers. Whatever it is, it has your head spinning.

“Yeji,” you pant, your fists closing tightly as your limbs grow taut. “Yeji, please.”

One moment, you’re cornered by a masked woman with sharp claws threatening you. Suddenly, you find yourself stripped of bodily freedom and begging for said woman to fuck you harder. With the little mobility you have, you attempt to buck against her hand, rutting against her fingers with little shame and even less dignity.

She merely laughs at how pathetic you are. “You’re doing so well for me, kitten.”

That familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach arises. You twitch and squirm, but the duct tape digs more into your skin the more you move. You instinctively ball your hands together, as if you can actually break free if you jerk them hard enough. 

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You throw your head back, your moans echoing through the spacious room as you come apart by the woman’s skillful fingers. She licks her lips as she watches the pleasure overcome you, the tremors that overtake your half-naked body. You don’t even think about the possibility of security bursting through and finding you in a compromising position. You can barely think at all as you spatter all over her fingers, the chair, and the floor.

“That’s my good girl,” she purrs, her wrist keeping up with the pace for you to ride out your high. “You did so well for me.”

Did you do well? Did you really do well?

Because if you did, you wouldn’t be sitting here with the most valuable jewels thrown in a bag for a thief to escape with. You wouldn’t have been jumped and thrown around the way you were, and you definitely would still have the freedom to move around and give her a piece of your mind.

But oh no, you did terribly.

Because if you actually did well, you wouldn’t be watching Yeji rise back up to her feet, turn her back to you, and rush out of the building with her loot.

You’re left bound to the chair, wondering how you’re supposed to explain to your manager why your assets are out in the open and a third of the jewels are missing.

[aziraphales-library]

I *love* any fics where Crowley is hurt incredibly bad and Aziraphale must save him or bring him back to health. I also LOVE fics that delve into trauma or mental health which stripes the characters of their mask and they must rely on someone/each other. Do you have any recommendations for fics that are either, or both? Happy endings are a major must for me, but I am open to any suggestions!

You'll want to check our #crowley whump, #hurt crowley, and #protective aziraphale tags for loads of fics like this. Here are some that may or may not have been recommended before, but mind the tags on all of these!...

Where's My Mind? by ebullience24 (T)

See, the thing is: Crowley is tall. His height had caused a few stares back in the days where the tallest man stood at five foot five. And, because of his height, one might be inclined to describe him as slender with spindly fingers and snake-hips. The pun is never intended on that last one but it stands true nonetheless. And Crowley would be likely to agree with these statements: he is tall and slender and spindly and snake-hipped. But what Crowley would be less likely to agree upon is the statement that he, Anthony J Crowley, is underweight. OR: Crowley has an eating disorder. Trigger Warnings now and at the beginning of each chapter.

Safe Haven by McRaider (T)

When Anthony Crowley stepped back into Aziraphale's life for the first time after eight long years missing, it became exceedingly clear with him came a world of trouble and heartache. But Aziraphale never could say no to his beloved Crowley. Can he help Crowley heal after a failed marriage, a gas-lighting ex-wife with an evil plan?

To Speak the Unspoken by ihamtmus (T)

“Uhhhh… Hi,” Crowley started lamely, scrambling to find a way to explain the situation as quickly as possible. His mind was refusing to work properly, thoughts slow as if doused in oil. He hadn’t really thought about what to say on his way here – he’d been too busy focusing on the getting here part before he would collapse. “I was wondering if I could�� If I could maybe die in here, if you don’t mind..?” The expression on Aziraphale’s face changed abruptly, telling him that the angel did, in fact, mind. (In which a mortally wounded demon just wants to get somewhere quiet to die but his Adversary will have none of it. A story of how they both learn just how much they care.)

Death in Love by Aspirina_Effervescente & Cyanidechan (M)

After tempting a composer to fame and success, Crowley is cursed by his wife and tormented by her ghost until the end of his days. Aziraphale would do anything to save him, the only problem is that he doesn't know what's going on and, anyway, the problem could be much more complicated than it seems. Inspired by Giuseppe Tartini’s Sonata “the Devil’s trill”

Drops of Sorrow by EdosianOrchids901 (M)

Ten years after the failed Apocalypse, Crowley is captured by Heaven. Gabriel plans to use him as bait to lure Aziraphale into a fight. Can Crowley survive captivity, and will Aziraphale be able to rescue him without walking into the trap?

A Touch of Heaven by IneffableToreshi (E)

A despondent and defeated Crowley has been through the ringer, moreso even than his roommate, Newt, realizes. After a car accident puts him though a number of surgeries and a temporary - but terrifying - few weeks of blindness, the club owner wants nothing more than to curl up in his bed and refuse to move until things return to normal...or as normal as they'll ever be again. Newt - and his cafe-owning girlfriend, Anathema - have other plans. They think that Crowley just needs some care and pampering, so Anathema schedules him a special, off-hours appointment with a friend of hers who is a rather sought-after masseur. Crowley is hesitant and stubborn, but Aziraphale's soothing voice and comforting nature soon win him over, in more ways than one...

- Mod D

[ikkosu]

you want pharma and prowl? I’ll give you pharma and prowl!! Them both as romantic rivals trying(and failing) to woo reader (gn, can be whatever species) cause they are both losers (affectionate) they keep trying to flirt with reader, but are so jealous and possessive they keep getting in each others way, which is not helping their image in front of readers eyes. Maybe reader is a secretary and has worked under both, and their personality(and bod) attracted them in the first place . Here’s your pharma and prowl <3

author’s note : YESSSS YESSSSS THIS IS THE CONFLICT I NEED. ILL GIVE YOU A SMOOCH FOR THAT IDEA ALONE ANON. I’m a sucker for these tropes on goddd. Also don’t mind me as I change it to a medic, since it’s more flexible for me to work with <3 possible three some later ;;)) also, whoo! This is a lot longer than I expected.

ONLY ONE WAY UP THE HIGH WAY

summary : prowl and pharma finds themselves as rivals when they pine for the same darling pet and thus the inevitable egos clash.

You hate rom-coms.

Now, you might be a hopeless romantic; delving and losing yourself in romantic stories, tugging even the most deepest heartstrings which gets you all giggly and kicking your feet. What you hate, however, are bland characters. A random, mix and mash kind of chemistry, forced with no substance, set up as a love triangle.

Which is, quite literally, what's occuring right now.

You see, you’re a medic up in Delphi for some time before being paired up as Prowl’s buddy-buddy partner, because Chromedome insists someone needs to look after that unruly cop who’s always destined get himself killed.

And so you do. Upon Ratchet’s introduction to the Autobot SIC he’s not exactly someone friendly. He's, ah, rigid and prickly, the know it all by the book, kind of prickly. His unresolved anger issues takes quite the toll wheb you tend his wounds or even so much as to touch his arm. Though, demure as you are, you know when to stand up for yourself when the situation gets out of hand. And this kind of resistance managed to ease down his sharp edges. Now, he’s still a prick, a tolerable prick more accurately, but you’re both good pals!

Or so, that’s what you thought.

One unassuming day, you were lounging off as usual in the main area, gathering your bearings after another tough match with the hoards of patients when your communicator buzzes with a ping. It's a message from Pharma.

An Autobot base will be set up here in Messatine at due time. Will be expecting your arrival promptly.

Ah, Delphi. How long has it been, seven years? Meeting your mentor again was something of a, well, it wasn't far from a dream. Wasn't really a need, either. But it's definitely something, at least. Besides, Prowl said he had to monitor the new crew in case they messed up the communication systems, again. So, you decided, with a hopeful heart, to follow along with the Coppa to Delphi.

Yeah, bad decision. Whomp, whomp.

That hospital might have it's up and downs, and while saving patients might not be it's strongest suits, it's decor are definitely a catch to mind. Goodness, since when did they have the funds to do that? The stark white of the tiled floor ( since when did they had marble designed pillars? ) embellished with grey, engraved carvings stumped your prior, blatant distaste of the facility.

It's safe to say you're surprised.

You're sauntering across the halls of the hospital, admiring the added features of new wards, machinery and nurses, when you bump into a wall that is, apparently, Pharma. Your, uh, very, very nice superior who you squint at your notes is definitely obsessively clingy BUT very smart , but also crazy. Like, mad crazy. Haha....

Why do you attract people like this.

"And, who ..? is this?" Condescension spools from his tone as he sizes up the Autobot SIC with a careless wave of his hand like he's some newly discovered specimen.

"Their partner." He makes sure to emphasize the 'partner' like it's a bullet. "The 'who', here is a Prowl."

"Oh, is it now. I didn't expect you to move on that quickly, dear."

"You're in a relationship?" You feel his glare on you; it's not a question.

"No, he's just—"

"Kidding! I'm only kidding." Pharma gives a hearty laugh. "My, my, officer. You know, tight muscles are a sore to deal with if you're not going to loosen them anytime soon."

"No thanks. I'll stick with a stroke."

"Ah, the ever so pessimistic. Pleasure to meet you then, officer. I've heard lots about you."

The doctor gracefully extends a hand to which Prowl ignores and then replies without much a look to him.

"If that's so, then I'm not very pleased."

The hand falls sharply, so does the smile.

"Oh, good,"

You swore you heard a joint breaking when he snaps his neck to your direction, and while you look away, you knew the chesire grin-like smile on his face is nothing but a threat.

"Very, very good." He straightens up. "How about a tour?"

Honestly, you expected the two would be more civil since they’re both so heads over heels about their reputations in front of another superiorly defined character. What you didn’t expect, however, is intruding in a tug of war that materialized from, seemingly, out of nowhere.

Right, the doctor insisted on an individual tour of your own. He suggested Ambulon show Prowl around, while he would take the pleasure of doing the same to you.

Obviously, Prowl isn't having any of that. So, you're currently between them, one arm in Pharma’s grip and the other in Prowl’s unrelenting grasp. You wince as their digits dig into your skin. If they're not careful, that's gonna leave a mark for sure.

“They already know their place around the medical facility, Jet-fuel. I’m sure they’re able to handle themself just fine without your guidance,”

“Oh, yes indeed,” Pharma, despite Prowl’s 100 degree glare, grits through his forced grin and yanks you back by the scruff of your collar, right into his chest, “I invited them here, I might as well show them around. If I didn’t know any better you’re trying to hog my staff.”

You know better than to voice your opinions. Their inner brain workings, all the cogs and mannerisms were already familiar; operating under their influence is like treading around a field of broken hards bound to prick you at any moment lest you misstep.

"Your staff?” The Autobot SIC scoffs. “Im not hogging them. It's long gone. They're not working for you, anymore. But I'm sure you're not aware of that since you've got a stick up your ass."

“Not quite, actually. Before they became your little pet—“

“They're. Not. My. Pet. I’d prefer it if you didn’t reduce them to some mindless animal—"

“Doesn’t matter. they’ll be fine. I know you haven’t you heard about this since you’re new here but Delphi has its new additions around the facility. I’m merely trying to greet back an old prodigy of mine back. In fact, they’ll be fine without you.”

"Oh, really." Prowl's up in his face now, grinding his dentas.

"How about you push my buttons and let's see where this leads?" Pharma taunts with an obvious tick on his under-optics.

That’s last week and you’re surprised when Prowl is frequenting your work station more often, always nagging you about your reports and how you ‘incorrectly’ structure them. That's strange, he never does that. Why is it only now he's bothering you about it?

When you asked him to take a look, however, he merely tosses it elsewhere and hands you his own datapad for you to look through. Of course, Pharma pops up round the corner and chastises the strategist for hogging his medic’s working hours. He says it's 'unethical' use of Power-play and authoritism and that Prowl should be locked up in jail.

Even worse, they’ve had this tug of war battle where they would try to ‘woo’ you when they can. You weren’t surpised; Pharma’s quite full of himself, so obviously he’s got territorial problems, even though you're not sure why he's so possessive over you. But later you realized he IS the entire problem. Not singular, not plural, he’s a walking embodiment of a complicated problem.

It gets worse when you're trying to do your work and here they are barging into your cubicle with another problem. At this point, you’re convinced it’s just a fight Pharma puts up because he hates sharing his pets. Now? He’s gotten too far down the rabbit hole to get up. For sentient robots who’s been through a war and back, they’re so damn petty.

Pharma’s idea way of flirting is more up and personal, he doesn’t care about your personal space and he never will. Brother in Christ, this mech does NOT leave you alone. AT ALL. He touches you whenever the time allows him to and you knew he's doing that to get under the lesser affectionate Cop-bot's skin, who finds physical touch repulsive.

Sometimes, you feel his hands up on your waist, your back against his chest as he leans over to regard your report, chin on your shoulder. If he’s feeling more bold, he often puts in his two cents of insinuating a quick session in the office which you, uh, politely decline because you’ve got a meeting with the new interns.

There's always another time, he'd jest. Yeah, well, not so funny. He’s clingy, obsessive and despite the charming suave-esque front of a Bond Villain he puts up, he’s easily the best person you can turn into a pile of seething venom.

“My little pet, I think it’s high time Prowl has his duties transferred off elsewhere, don’t you think?” His optics are twitching, and his unusually sharp talons pierce the metal desk. “ Not that I mind, that rancid Cop-bot has been getting in my nerves, recently. Wrong, this, regulations that. Can you believe it, he terminated half of my crew for, as per his words, carrying out unsanitary operations! Thats defamation! A false accusation. It takes a whole restraint not to shove him down the grinds of the accelerator.”

Please, don’t.

“He’s just monitoring the district, sir.” You maintained a neutral tone. He’s at your desk again. And, instead of trying to woo you into his bed he’s complaining. Oh, my god. I’ve got a report due tommorow. And you’re complaining. Someone, help me.

“Well, he’s not monitoring anything anytime soon with how much blood he’s leeching from your body. I should've known better than to agree with his demands to stay in your office as well. He’s stuck to you like a damn mosquito.”

Like, you're any better. You deadpan.

Prowl, on the other hand is aware and accepted the fact that he’s definitely not the most likable or the best lover kind of material out there. And, to take someone like YOU to like him, someone playful and fun, not ripping out his head every two seconds, is a blessing in and of itself.

He can't even stay a second around someone without pissing off their early descendants. So, with his glock locked and loaded he takes 'counteractive measures' to ensure that nobody is going to take that moment of happiness away from him. Even if in unethical terms he’ll have to ensure it.

“You’re been forty five meters off from your office.”

You let out a startled yelp, swivelling around to meet Prowl, oh thank god prowl, who's expression is pinched, lips pressed in a thin line and his hands are intertwined behind his back, military-like.

“I’m buying drinks,” You clutch the myriad of snacks and drinks in your arms, blinking away your pounding heart. “ H-how’d you find me?”

Prowl merely glances at the contraption on his wrist where, when you crane your neck to look over, is a circular radar with a blinking red dot.

“You’re to notify your disappearance when necessary.” He grunts out and turns on his heel. “Let me know when Jet-fuel decides to harass you again,”

Weird. Still, you brush off his disdain for the medic as nothing when instead his, ah, paranoia (?) goes on for months. That one instance youre in the bathroom? Yeah. Hello, there. I'm just walking. Totally not peeking. Totally not—

Is that a new sock?

"Prowl!"

"I'm checking if there are cameras here."

"It's a bathroom?!"

"All the more reason why I should ensure there isn't."

What's more strange is the fact that there's a blatant evidence of someone meddling with your schedule. And, you had an inkling their tug of war session travelled even to technological seams.

This rivalry continued on (despite, literally, the entire hospital's annoyance) until you eventually lost it.

It was a Friday night.

A party was held in the lounge. The younger mechs had set the celebration up to mark the lethargic end of July. Of course, since you’re invited to the party, the two came along despite not being known as party-dwellers themselve. So, it was quite a sight for the young mechs to see.

You thought they’d tone down the hostility a little and even warm up with how much time they spnd trying to one up the other. That's enough months to start a relationship, God damnit. Unfortunately, you’re not able to drink freely without the two mechs pushing against your personal space. Prodding, blabbering away about how skimpy your outfit looked. You're wearing your uniform.

At some point you drink in defeat, squished between their two frames as either tries to stop you from drinking your misery out while the other eggs you on with another bottle.

After the party they insisted dragging you back to their quarters. You’re not even halfway into your room when they start bickering again.

“Don’t you have anything better to do, Prowl?” His name is a venomous jab in the guise of a forced, seething smile. “Your presence in the hospital is unnecessary as the security guard up front. A mandatory monitor check doesn’t require you here all the time. If i didn’t know any better, you’re deliberately trying to distract them so they’ll end up in your berth.”

You hold back a vomit as Pharma nabs you into his hold, the alcohol seething your veins aren’t doing much for your psyche and you stare dumbly at the floor, wanting to retch over it.

”I’m checking up on my partner.” Prowl stands his ground then tugs you into his chest again, “Doesn’t have anything to do with you, Jet-fuel.”

“Oh, it does, actually.” Another tug back, “ It’s called harassment and I'm going to report to your superiors for pestering one of my medics.’’

“Your medic?” He scoffs. “You’re a sad sorry bunch who’s got no chicks up his ass. If I didn’t know any better you’re manipulating them into caving into a newly registered scheme. A play toy, plaything, exhausted for pleasure. Don’t think I know you used to work with the D.J.D, Jet-fuel.”

“Call me that one more time and I’ll ensure your processor isn’t he only thing I’m dislodging from that helm."

“Illegal malpractice of surgery is an offense. Is that a threat, Jet-fuel?”

“Oh, you’ll see, Officer. You’ll see just how skilled I am with my Servos.”

They’re both at already each other’s throat, servos clenched, door wings, jet-wings flaring and blasters at the ready. The Engex they’ve ingested earlier only prompted the hostile ambience and as they were about to—

“Why won’t you both fuck me already!?”

In a fit of annoyance, inebriation and stupidity, the three horsemen of your misery, the words left your lips before you even think. They stop bickering and it felt like forever as they did a 180 , full, joints creaking swivel of a ‘What did you just say???’ baffled expression thrown at your direction.

But you’re still seething and only then you’ve realized your slip-up, you’re a crumpled mess on the floor, palms wide and open, clutching your face that’s unrelentingly burning. Pharma looks like he's been kicked in the crotch and Prowl looks like he's seen God.

Kill me. Kill me. Kill me. Kill me.

“Both of us, hm?” You hear Pharma muse and whether or not Prowl is considering the prospect, all you want to do as of now, is to rot in this hole you dug for yourself.

[doumadono]

Congratulations on 3k followers! For the event, could I request please Choso from JJK with "one just casually sitting down on the other's lap and they start internally freaking the hell out" for the sfw prompts? With gn reader if possible. Thank you so much, and I hope you have a lovely day <3

A dark library - Choso x gn!reader

Synopsis: you venture into the dimly lit library, your curiosity piqued by Choso engrossed in a mysterious book A/N: thank you for your congratulations, that's so sweet of you, Nonnie! I hope you'll enjoy this little blurb ♥

MASTERLIST

In a dimly lit, secluded corner of a hidden library, you found Choso engrossed in a weathered tome, his eyes locked on the ancient script. The ambient candlelight cast dancing shadows on the walls, creating an atmosphere of secrecy and mystique.

His distinctive appearance with long black stringy hair tied into two high ponytails and small dark purple eyes always intrigued you.

As you approached him, curiosity getting the best of you, you couldn't help but be drawn to his presence. With a mix of boldness and nonchalance, you casually sat down on his lap, your heart racing at the audacity of your actions. "Hey, what are you doing?" you asked, trying to sound casual. Internally, you started freaking the hell out, unsure of how he would react to your own impromptu action. His flesh and blood body felt real beneath you, and the closeness intensified your nerves.

Choso, surprisingly, remained calm and composed, as if this was a regular occurrence for him. He peered into your eyes with an enigmatic gaze, and for a moment, it felt as though he could see right through your thoughts. "Reading."

Struggling to find the right words, you managed to stammer, "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to… I mean, I just…uh… got carried away?" Your voice trailed off as you fumbled to explain yourself.

To your surprise, a faint smile tugged at the corners of Choso's lips. "It's okay," he replied in a soft tone, his voice like a gentle whisper in the darkness. "You're just curious, aren't you?"

You still couldn't shake the feeling of being embarrassed by your own boldness. You carefully shifted, attempting to stand up, but Choso's arms gently encircled you, holding you in place.

"No need to rush," he said reassuringly. "You're safe here with me. Stay."

His touch was unexpectedly warm, and the sensation sent shivers down your spine. Despite the darkness around you, his presence seemed to emit a calming aura that made you feel strangely at ease.

As the moments passed, you found yourself gradually relaxing, getting lost in the mysterious atmosphere of the library and Choso's intriguing company. His eyes locked with yours from time to time, and you felt a strange connection forming, as if he could understand the thoughts swirling inside your head without you saying a word. The initial awkwardness had faded, replaced by an unspoken connection that transcended words.

Finally, you mustered the courage to break the silence, attempting to divert your thoughts from the unusual situation. "So, what's that book about?" you asked, trying to sound genuinely interested, although your heart still fluttered from sitting on his lap.

Choso's eyes softened as he glanced at the ancient tome in his hands, the faint glow of his blood mark intensifying for a moment before fading once more. "This book holds the secrets of a lost clan's cursed technique," he explained, his voice steady and calm. "It's a powerful and ancient form of jujutsu, one that many seek to master."

His explanation fascinated you, and you found yourself leaning in closer, as if the book itself might reveal its mysteries to you. "Is it dangerous?" you inquired, wondering if delving into such knowledge could lead to dire consequences.

Choso nodded, his eyes now reflecting a hint of melancholy. "Yes. The cursed techniques often carry a heavy price, and their power can consume those who wield them."

The conversation flowed naturally from then, and with each passing moment, the anxiety that initially gripped you slowly melted away. The dark, secluded space somehow felt like a cocoon, isolating you both from the outside world and its judgments.

divider by: @cafekitsune

[yuurei20]

When Jade corners Kalim with his UM in book 4, Kalim admits he knows who's been mind controlling him, but promised long ago to never tell. Has this been brought up anywhere else yet or is Jamil's history with his own UM still a total mystery?

Oo this is a great catch! Thank you for the question!

We have yet to hear the origins of the majority of the cast's unique magics, and Jamil's is one that has yet to be explained!

He touches on its limitations in Book 6, comparing it to Jade's, but I think that is the most we have heard as of this post.

I believe the only unique-magic manifestations we have learned about, in detail (on EN), are Deuce, Epel, and Azul?

As all three characters were in desperate situations (life-threatening, for Epel), it raises a lot of questions about what exactly was happening to characters like Riddle, Leona and Floyd when they learned how to do what they do.

Whether or not the details in the novel can be considered canon to the game is a point for debate, but in the novels it is insinuated that unique magics can sometimes be something that mages decide for themselves (part of Leona's post-overblot-monologue covers his bitterness at the assumptions of those around him that King's Roar is an ability he fought to obtain when it wasn't, so that might be a common assumption about mages with unique magics, even if it's not true: that their power was a goal they set and achieved).

Riddle says (in the novel) that he learned Off With Your Head from studying, but it is not specified if he decided for himself what his unique magic would be and then made it happen, or if his UM manifested of its own accord during his rigorous education.

While we see Azul craft his own unique magic from scratch (which requires a magical artifact, and that introduces many questions), we don't technically know if he was consciously creating a unique magic or if he just wanted a spell, any spell, that would take people's talents away from them, and it ended up manifesting as his UM.

To return to the initial question: not only have we not heard very much detail about Jamil's magic, there is a lot of room for interpretation when we take everything above into account!

Did Snake Whisper appear on its own to help him to adapt to a situation he was in at the time? Was he studying magic in general and the ability was born of his efforts? Was it something he actively desired and pursued? Did he have it prior to NRC, like Riddle and Azul, did it manifest during his first year, like Deuce and Epel, was he born with it, like Leona and Idia, or was it a yet-unknown fourth pattern?

We do not even really have a timeline, as Jamil could have discovered Snake Whisper, used it on Kalim and made him promise not to reveal it anytime between when his magic first manifested pre-NRC and the middle of Book 2 (when Kalim nearly reveals it).

Delving into the origins of the various unique magics is certainly one direction that Book 7 might go in, and I hope we might learn more one day! :> (worst case scenario, maybe in the fourth novel?)

[liyawritesss]

ꜱʜᴜʀɪ ᴡ/ ᴀ ᴄᴏʟʟᴇɢᴇ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Characters: MCU!Shuri Udaku x Black!GN!Reader

Type: Headcanons

Synopsis: It’s summer vacation, and Riri finally convinces Shuri to come to Chicago for it! However, there’s not enough sunscreen in the world that will prepare Shuri for the onslaught of heat she’s about to endure…

Warnings: vague mention of nudity (you’re changing after your shower and shuri accidentally walks in on you), mentions of cursing, vague mention of a fight, summer fling-esque type vibe until it’s not

A/N: I read some college!au shuri hc’s a while ago and I can’t for the life of me remember who wrote them, but lawd the thoughts that have been swirling in my brain because of them….yall might as well just read it.

Tags: @6-noir @playhousedistee @shuririsdefenseattorney @shuriszn @zayswriting @wrendermedone @writingintheshadowsforever @mbakuetshurisprincess @verachii @slytherin-34 @the_lesbian-fangirl @strangefishflapturtle @cuddl3s4shur1 @shuriislut @dejaonline @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @inmyheadimobsessed @aaliyg @cafehyunji @h34rtsformilli

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The first time Shuri meets you is when she finally succumbs to Riri’s pleas of visiting, and decides to help the young engineer move out of her dorm for the summer. Riri does make a point to slightly mention you, but she can be forgetful at times, and this time may have caused a slight kerfuffle.

Majority of the room was packed in boxes, save for a couple of bags you and Riri had left out with some clothes to change into day of the move, alongside other necessities. Needless to say, Riri forgot you had went to take a shower, and when she came up with Shuri and the princess saw you in low hung sweatpants and your shirt half on, it might have taken Bast herself from keeping Shuri from running out of the room in pure embarrassment.

You definitely scolded Riri, cuz really, how could she be so absent minded? It certainly wasn't the first time a situation like that had occurred…at certain times you thought she was doing it on purpose to try and put you on with someone, but no - homegirl is just scatterbrained as hell.

Shuri didn’t talk much around you at first. She wanted to feel you out, judge for herself if you were a friend or foe. Your personality was similar to Riri’s, if not a bit more rugged from the street influence that still held a grip on you. You had a sailor’s tongue that she wasn’t all too familiar with, but the way you spoke without a care in the world was something she found endearing.

Shuri admitted that her sta in Chicago was made more enjoyable with your presence.You made her laugh in a way that she hadn’t been able to in so long. Besides Riri, you sympathized with her in a way that made her feel human, and not like some royal child expected to take up the throne or some crazy scientist expected to delve into her work like she did previously.

She also admits that the casual dominance that you performed with her had a bit of influence on her as well. You always put it under the guise of ‘You’re new here, it’s easy to get lost in the city.’ as if she hasn’t lived in a technologically advanced metropolis her whole life. Yet when you’d offer her your jacket when she was cold, or guide her with a hand on the small of her back, or allow her to snuggle into your side on the couch whenever the two of you were near; Shuri just knew that there was something…more there.

There would be longing stares after having one too many shots on your end, where you’d sit and watch Shuri as she spoke to Riri or another close friend of the two of you, and you’d wonder how it would be like to wake up to her in the morning, how her lips would feel against yours, wondering how far you could take this little unspoken arrangement before a boundary had to be set.

Shuri’s smart, so she doesn’t miss these kinds of stares. They make her flustered, her chest feels warm and fuzzy, her stomach churning with yearning. But she’s still in that part of grieving where everyone must stay at arm's length, because as quickly as one could enter her life, they could leave, and Shuri was still repairing the damage dealt to her from her family’s passing.

So the two of you engaged in this unspoken romance, this platonic intimacy where you’d hold her close on a walk in the neighborhood, and she’d cook some Wakandan food for you (and Riri, since she’s there as well and she’d never forget her friend, but Shuri has you in mind when she’s cooking); where you’d braid her hair for her before a night out and she patches you up after getting into a fight with a hater, who ended up much worse than you and your couple of scratches and bruises.

For the three months of summer vacation, everything seemed perfect. Too good to be true. You had this beautiful woman who woke you up via facetime calls almost every morning, and you had the privilege of witnessing the side of Wakanda’s last standing royal that no one else got to see - not even Riri. The ghosting touches and stolen kisses became something you craved more and more, but for her sake, you held back.

Alas, the blissful unnamed summer romance had to end at some point. You and Riri would be returning to school, and Shuri had business to attend to back home. It was a bittersweet end to a romance that never made it past the talking stage, both of you wanting so much more but held back by your responsibilities…

Unless, a certain engineer can pull some strings to get her oblivious friends to see just how hopelessly in love they are for each other.

[yuzukahibiscus]

Jewels of Takarazuka – Yuzuka Rei-san [Flower Troupe] (from Fujingaho May Issue)

This series documents the words of Takarazuka Top Stars, and their strength of living in the current age and Yuzuka Rei of Flower Troupe appears on this month’s issue.  Like a king that shines ever brightly on stage, Yuzuka-san appears on the photoshoot scene and we compliment her for having a flawless beauty like a deer in the wild. Then when she’s standing in front of the camera now, it seems like some kind of story is about to begin… Yuzuka-san speaks with carefully woven words and with a soft voice, talks about what she is thinking now.

Even if the acting is decided already every day, I just love presenting a new vibe to it

The one we admire in Shoujo Manga, the piano magician with fervent fans, the Broadway Star Dancer. With her gorgeous visual and delicate acting, Yuzuka-san brings such beautiful characters you couldn’t see in reality to life. If you watch her stage performances, you’d see that the world of dreams is here now……That’s what I firmly believe. When we interviewed Yuzuka-san, she was challenging to perform the famous work in Takarazuka Revue, the renowned musical of “MAYERLING”. It is about the tragic love story between Austria Crown Prince Rudolf and his lover Mary Vetsera. Yuzuka-san used to express it uniquely, “I don’t want [my performance] to look like it was cultivated artificially but to deliver one that is naturally moving”, so how did she feel when she was working on this famous musical?

“I’ve said that, haven’t I (LOL). I really like fresh air. So in the world that I’m portraying, even though we’d be doing the same things every day… That’s quite the opposite of what I said [about natural acting] (LOL). But even if we’re doing the same things every day, those first encounters and experiences are different every time. In contrast, even though it may be the first time I’m seeing some audience, I can feel that they’re the important people who’ve always known me… Performers and the audience can create some feelings and reactions together that not even we can imagine, and that’s something that I always find enjoyable. The premiere of this performance was 40 years ago. Even though there’s a little change in direction, the prologue song and the choreography was similar to how it was back then. I’d act according to what I understand from the whole setup of the musical. I won’t think about what I think is correct, instead I’ll continue to question my interpretation and delve into it more to act while thinking about it.”

In this musical with such intensity, you’d have to build up so much strength for the ending…

“Amidst the intensity and while continuing to maintain focused, there’s a unique kind of energy in musicals, surprisingly I’m not too overwhelmed by that. But while that builds up and accumulates densely, I think it’s difficult to overcome the “gap” or that “space” when [the tension] couldn’t build up well. Or maybe I should say, that it feels like those Jenga building blocks…… But the concentration the audience have for this musical is higher than before, so I felt that they also helped us create this ambience for us together.”

I want to walk a path that won’t feel like I’m betraying myself

This is perhaps the charm that’s only unique in live performances.

But in these 3 years, the previous situation was still unstable and as a leader she led the troupe to overcome very tough circumstances.

“I really thought that while I’ve been learning, I’ve already walked this far. Even in the same scenarios, I’ve come to learn that depending on people’s circumstances, there would be different feelings and the way we approach things also change. I know that it’s not good to just evaluate things while thinking only of ourselves. If everything was successful, I think it might be difficult to have the experience where everyone aims at “facing wholeheartedly towards stage performances” together…… so I thought I acquired a lot [during this time.] Whatever something happens, I want to be the person that people can trust in. Even if I covered it up, only I would know how I have dealt with that problem. Sometimes I may not know if I’ve made a wrong decision, and I won’t even know if that would be the best decision for that time, yet there must be something that I could learn from in failure. That’s why, I’ve decided not to do things that would make me lose confidence in myself. I often say be confident in yourself, but it’s difficult to believe in yourself without evidence. “Trust” might be a slightly different word, but I don’t try to deceive myself, instead I worked hard for it desperately… I wish I could feel that way without any hesitation,  and I would want to say that my underclassmen self when I was still trying to find that confidence.”

That delicate and soft feeling may be different from what she said a few years ago about “wanting to face my weaknesses earnestly”. 

“When we act, we think about humans, but it’s difficult to comment on whether they’re strong and weak. If they’re “weak”, they may seem negative at first glance, but they also may be someone that has great observation, a profound imagination,  and that they sincerely care only for a particular something. So “strengths” and “weaknesses” are two sides of a coin. If one believes too much that “I am strong”, that may instead lead to this pushing force that overwhelms oneself. So I’d say, it’s fine to be weak. Because humans are not born to be perfect. Rest a little, recover yourself, find your strategy to face your next task. When you find that strategy, if someone else has troubles, you could then help them. When I was playing as Rudolf, I really felt how greatly people impact others. That’s probably why I have such thought.”

Embracing her internal weaknesses with that resilient strength bestows her with the persuasion capacity on stage. Perhaps the Flower Troupe stage performances she lead will continue to shine radiantly.

MY JEWEL ~The jewel of the heart~

This is a photo of my nephew and my dog. “Even though they don’t always meet, but when they do, they’d always take a walk. My dog loves my nephew and is always smiling. My nephew leads the dog carefully like an adult when they walk together and I can slowly feel his growth. Now as I’m playing as Rudolf, I’d have to say, “Because of everyone’s great love, I have also progressed and grown.”

ON STAGE...

“ENCHANTEMENT –A Luxurious Perfume–” is a stylish  revue with perfume as the theme. This is a Takarazuka-styled revue wound in the gorgeous world of black tailcoats, silk hat and cane. Apart from singing and dancing, you could see her sometimes chic and sometimes sexy, that you couldn’t miss her out in any instant.

Next stage: Musical Romance “A Battlefield for the Two of Us” (Author/Director: Masatsuka Haruhiko)

In a stage of a fictitious federation formed by numerous autonomous states, this is about a young military officer with burning passions and how he struggles between the gap of the country and the individual, portraying his story of an “unacceptable” love and great friendship. Yuzuka-san says, “It’s very interesting learning from the rehearsal of Masatsuka (Hirohiko)-sensei’s musical. “War” is still sometimes that is relevant to us in this age, so I will cherish the importance of performing this production and do my best to create this production.”

[astrojulia]

PAC - Messages to improve your Summer/Winter Season

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DISCLAIMER. These general free readings are made in good faith for entertainment purpose. This reading was done in mind with Summer for people in the Northern Hemisphere and Winter for the Southern Hemisphere.

How to pick a pile

When you have different cards to choose from in pile 1,2,3… look at each of those cards. Wait until someone reminds you of a memory. Perhaps a character’s outfit resembles one of your own. It is this pile that has its message. What if they all remind me of something? Go for the one with the strongest memory, one might look like her earring but another might be the favorite candy you got from your grandma when you vacationed at her house. But what if none reminds me of something? Take a deep breath and wait a little longer, without charging yourself or creating worries. Relax, some will awaken some memory in you, I promise! ..

Pile 1 - Kuromi

(Eight of Coins - Ships - 10 of Wands - Moon - The Moon - Lillies - Nightingale)

What you've been working on since the beginning of the year has been your work and your career, and that's why you've already made great progress in this regard. You've completed many plans and projects because I see here a person who engages in independent and primarily artistic work (if this doesn't apply to you, skip this part). You've already made significant changes to the way you approach your projects, perfecting them and improving their efficiency in terms of time and cost.

Your strength today lies primarily with women and the female audience. It seems that you make their work much easier by delivering practically everything ready. So far, this description has been quite general, but let me delve deeper. You have the ability to take sketches and text that people create and turn them into highly detailed images. You can deliver exactly what they want, even when they don't fully understand their own desires.

In the remainder of the year, you need to focus on enhancing your creativity, intuition, and subconscious. It appears that you have concentrated on improving the theoretical and logical aspects of your art, such as techniques. However, now it's time to reestablish your focus on the practical and emotional dimensions of your craft. Understand the messages behind your work without needing explanations or logical reasoning, as there are certain aspects that are purely emotional and not rational.

Pile 2 -My Melody

(The Fool - Mices - Two of Cups - Tree - The Hierophant - Whip - Turkey)

What you've been working on since the beginning of the year is exploring the possibilities at your disposal. You haven't limited yourself to a single plan or envisioned a fixed future; instead, you've been experimenting and getting to know a little bit of everything. You have conducted extensive research, seeking out both the purest and darkest aspects of each subject. During this period, you haven't settled for anything less—you have immersed yourself in the topic and then moved on. This research and exploration are closely connected to the magical, religious, and alchemical aspects of things.

Your strength lies in your ability to transform situations like turning water into wine. You have a knack for converting adversity into productivity and fruitful outcomes. For you, there is no such thing as a bad time. This ability is particularly evident when it comes to your parents and ancestors—you have a way of making their influence more adaptable.

In the remaining part of the year, it is important to focus and commit to a specific area. Although you have conducted extensive research, it's time to concentrate on a particular subject to delve deeper and produce something that can benefit you in the long-term future. You need to create a ritual, something you can talk about and engage with every day, starting from the moment you wake up in the morning.

Pile 3 - Hello Kitty

(Ace of Pentacles - Child - The Chariot - Bear - Four of Pentacles - Dog - Skunk)

You have been focusing on personal growth and the experiences that money can afford you. You have been meeting your child's wants and basic needs to a certain extent. For instance, if you can buy a snack, you go ahead and purchase it without holding back. However, you have imposed significant restrictions on yourself, and now you are starting to loosen up a bit. Additionally, you have been rediscovering and utilizing skills from your childhood that were once set aside due to financial constraints, but now you have the means to pursue them.

Your greatest strength today lies in your audacity and courage. Nothing and no one can stand in your way. You are also deeply connected to spirituality, particularly embracing a feminine and motherly energy. Your inner light and unwavering faith that everything will eventually fall into place are your sources of strength.

As you move forward in the remaining part of the year, it is important to focus on your economy and practice saving. Cultivate a greater appreciation and care for the possessions you already have. Lately, you have been driven by instinct, and it would be beneficial to incorporate a bit more rationality into your decision-making for the remainder of the year.

(CC) AstroJulia Some Rights Reserved

[goinghostie]

Stars Align delves into topics most anime wouldn't dare address , ie. Yuu's situation exploring their gender identity and Maki's well-communicated explanation of Shou being trans (FTM).

While Stars Align incorporates many stigmatized topics into its plot, it approaches them carefully and never shows the abusive side in a positive light. The scenes are raw, emotional, and incredibly realistic.

I have respect for Akane-sensei and the production team for tackling issues kids don't typically see in a series - ones that they may be struggling with themselves and aren't aware how negative an impact they can have on them since that is all they know.

Stars Align is a series you could say is ahead of its time. One that resonates with many who can relate to the issues & struggles presented. It isn't a show for escapism, like most anime out there. It is a series that faces real situations head-on.

To some, this is a weakness. But to me (and many others who resonated with a kindred spirit in the series), Stars Align is a series that makes us feel seen or heard. It shows that anyone can be struggling, even if they might not openly show it.

Stars Align's premature halting of production fits a little too well with an overarching theme on the show - the boy's soft tennis team was threatened to be shut down, and it takes a LOT of hard work for the kids to grow and save their team.

If even one scene resonated with you, please show support for Stars Align. While the odds of this series getting finished seem slim, support and attention can help the creator find a studio willing to finish the second half.

We need to come together and show support for a series that was cast aside, just like our favorite soft tennis team. To join together and fight for the second half of the story, in whatever way possible.

Spread the word - the more people who legally watch the series on Crunchyroll and Hulu will show streaming platforms that the anime means something to subscribers. Start conversations about the topics presented and the impact the series has!

Create content - art, fanfics, edits, theories...posting about the series helps spread the word to people who haven't heard of it or forgot to watch in the past. To this day, new fans are discovering Stars Align because of this! January is #MakeTheStarsAlign month - we have prompts each week to help inspire people to join in spreading the word!

Akane-sensei has thanked fans for continuing to support the series. He feels the best chance for a continuation will come from an overseas production studio, and so building our numbers is the first step of achieving some kind of renewal.

It can be hard to keep talking about a series, but the tendency to move on is exactly what makes support for a series fade away. The fight needs to continue, even if time passes! Shows can be brought back YEARS later, but support needs to still be there for that to happen.

While 3 years have passed since episode 12 aired, please don't forget about this series or the emotions it made you feel. Continue to raise awareness and spread the word to show there is support for impactful series like Stars Align. 💙

[moonlight-prose]

HURT

➝ 02. ONLY ONES WHO KNOW

a/n: i am in deep for this man and it's only the second week of his show. not sure how i'll survive the rest of it. what did y'all think of episode 2? so, the story continues and i finally get to delve in a bit deeper on the relationship between these two. something i'm incredibly excited about. look out for some drabbles/interludes coming soon regarding this story. thanks for all the lovely comments on the last chapter. i'm glad you're all enjoying it!

summary: for days you traveled with a man you barely knew. until you finally gain the courage to ask him about the watch on his wrist.

word count: 4.7k+

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: not explicit yet but still 18+, cussing, violence, gore, angst, blood, tw death, gratuitous prose about the apocalypse setting, slow burn, tw food consumption.

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Silence filled the space between you, filling the void of what was never there. You’d been walking together for days, taking paths here and there through unknown streets and abandoned towns. It seemed that when Joel made the offer for you to accompany him, he simply meant he’ll show you the way. He wouldn’t be your friend, your buddy as you walked, hell he would barely even talk, and for a while you accepted that.

You kept yourself busy by looking at the scenery, digging through empty buildings for useful things, and fighting off the odd infected that still remained. For the first three days you told yourself that neither of you would stick around long enough to know the other. Eventually, you’d part ways. Meaning you would be alone once more. So what was the point of learning meaningless information, that would do nothing to help either of your situations

By the fourth day you were slowly losing your mind with just small worded responses, and questions that still hung in the air—frozen against the time that passed. You weren’t sure how long it would take to get to Boston. Shit you weren’t even sure where you were now, having crossed through town after town without ever finding a name or sign. All that would remain of them in your memory was the sight of the decay. Of the buildings slowly losing the remnant of a lifeless humanity that remained—nature overtaking what was rightfully hers.

You’d seen it everywhere. The brutalization of the apocalypse coming to full fruition before your very eyes. With humanity gone, the world could finally heal. You could recall learning about the fall of humanity in school; professors talked about what the world might look like once everyone disappeared. Would the world fall to pieces from the destruction humans caused, or would it adapt?

You never used to see it that way though. Never thought that nature was healing, so much as it was taking over. There was a time where you could remember hating the world—wishing for its ultimate demise. You wanted it all to end. Life, death…time. You didn’t care which one went first, as long as it took you with them.

But now that the years had passed and you’d finally grown up, you could see what you didn’t catch before. You were still alive…somehow. Yet still the pain remained. The grief that you tried so hard to forget about was stored inside your bag, carried around with each trudging step you continued to make in silence. 

Silence had been your only companion for some time now, and you were thoroughly exhausted of its company.

Perhaps that’s why you eventually broke down and asked him the question that made him close himself off.

It was a reaction you never expected to happen. One that left you wracking your mind for what you could have said that made this journey even more uncomfortable.

“Where did you get your watch?”

You had asked him as you ate dinner—or at least a makeshift meal of something he killed. The fire crackled in the night air, creating warmth you hadn’t enjoyed in awhile. Reminding you of late nights in your childhood home. The fireplace emitting the soft warmth that lulled you to sleep on the couch. Before you could stop and think about it, you’d simply asked him—thinking it would start a small conversation.

Only for the question to hang in the air like the deafening silence. Each minute ticked by just a little bit slower because of it. You watched his entire body stiffen, his jaw twitching as he stopped chewing his food, and stared into the fire. The man you thought you knew as Joel, disappeared before your very eyes.

It was an honest question. One that usually created small talk. Except you couldn’t help but think that you’d fucked up in a big way once the words left your mouth. You’d seen him fiddle with the watch before. Tracing his finger along the wristband, touching the broken glass that still remained. You had half a mind to ask why he still wore it if it was broken. But then you realized…if you had something left from your old life—you’d keep it with you too.

Even if it stopped working.

The sun began to dip below the horizon again, bathing the small forest area you were currently traveling through, in darkness. Eventually you’d have to stop for the night, find a place that both of you deemed safe enough, but Joel seemed intent on continuing. The past few days he stopped before the sun began to dip below the trees. However, today he seemed different. Off. You didn’t want to blame your question on his actions that resembled a lost man simply putting one foot in front of the other, but you knew it had to be the cause.

So, you stopped walking. The small hideout was covered with larger rocks, creating a makeshift sitting area. You wondered if people used this before—thinking they could survive in the woods as the cities were torn apart.

It took him a minute to realize the echo of your footsteps didn’t follow his, forcing him to turn. A look remained in his eyes that told you everything you needed to know. He was lost. Though his expression was empty, he couldn’t hide the dazed glint in his eyes.

“We can’t stop here,” he said gruffly, his voice rough from not being used.

You shrugged, dropping your bag to the ground and starting to button up your coat. “You’re exhausted, I’m hungry, and there’s nothing we can do in the dark.”

“I’m not—” he started, his eyebrows pulling together.

“You know how to use a bow and arrow right?”

He watched you dig up the archaic weapon you both found in an abandoned house a day ago. Joel didn’t question why you picked it up, figuring that you knew how to use it. When in reality, you simply grabbed it in case it would come in handy. Weapons weren’t your forte. You barely learned how to shoot a fucking gun the right way. But he looked like he knew enough to use the weapon with ease; hopefully it would assist both of you in hunting down something larger to eat.

“If you didn’t know how to use it, why did you take it?”

Tracing the design on the side of the arrow with your eyes, you stepped away from the small hideout, heading towards the thicket of trees that were ahead of you. “Figured you knew how to use it,” you called over your shoulder. “Thought you might need another weapon.”

He didn’t respond, but he did follow you. The crunch of leaves underneath his boots, reverberating off the trees. If you weren’t careful you would attract something that neither of you would be able to outrun. You knew his bullets were too important to use hunting wise, but arrows could be reused if they stayed intact. Or at least you hoped that’s what would happen.

“We’ll need to go further out,” he said, walking past you and quickly taking the lead, his gun still strapped to his shoulder—his bag back with yours.

Once again, you walked in silence. Conversation didn’t seem to come easy to him you noticed, and rather than push him into talking, you allowed him to start it off. After the question, you knew that stepping where you didn’t belong wasn’t the best choice with Joel. He was reserved. Far more than you. His past would remain a mystery—you were okay with that—but it seemed he didn’t want to share anything other than hunting tips and small words shared over a meal.

He headed towards a small cliff, his eyes scanning the area for animals. Over the years, you’d seen hunters before. Been privy to how they worked, how they killed. They held an animalistic quality to their movements that reminded you too much of the infected. They killed as if they enjoyed it. You had killed yourself, but Joel was different. He moved like a predator, taking in his surroundings with a careful and analytical gaze. You noticed it while walking with him, watched him take note of everything that could be used as a weapon and every place he could hide.

Joel was a survivor, that much remained clear to you. He was dangerous beneath the surface. And you wondered how much he had to endure to get to this point. What had he seen or even done to stay alive as the world crumpled at his feet? You figured you’d never know the truth, and perhaps it was better that way.

What was the point of knowing this man? By the time you reached Boston, you would go your separate ways—following different paths in order to remain alive and somewhat human. You didn’t want to see his humanity, witness his vulnerabilities, because that would make parting so much harder.

What was the point in growing attached when eventually…time would tear you apart in the end anyways?

“You know what you’re doing with that?” he asked, breaking you out of your thoughts. Thankfully he ignored the fact that your gaze was trained on him.

Nodding, you notched the arrow in place, attempting to pull it back and aim well enough to make the shot. “Easy,” you replied, hearing the slight shake in your voice.

Fuck the nerves. You’ve killed before. Taken life from animals and people alike, but never like this. A gun had always been your preferred weapon, due to its easy nature, and you hated that Joel could see that. All you ever had to do before was aim and pull a trigger, but this called for something more. A skill you didn’t have in your arsenal.

He shook his head subtly, standing to his full height as you struggled with the weapon—your arms shaking beneath the strain of keeping the position.

“Relax,” he said, his hand settling on your tense shoulders. “You’ll hurt yourself if you do it this way.”

Huffing, you tried to listen to his words, forcing your body to release the tension that riddled it. “I told you I don’t know how to use this.”

“No, you didn’t.” If you turned your head you would have caught the small hint of a grin forming on his lips. “Lift your elbow more,” he stated, nudging it with his hand and causing a jolt to go through your arm.

“Like this?” Your words were soft as he shifted your movements with his hands that barely touched you.

Something moved in the distance, the rustling of branches telling you where to aim, but Joel was already way ahead of you. His hand slid over yours, helping you adjust your hold until the arrow went steady—pointing directly where it needed to go. The breath you released was shaky; your nerves showing through clearly enough for him to see. You hoped he had the decency to ignore them. To help you take the shot and move on, but his hand clasped over yours tighter, as if to reassure you.

Whatever existed in the air between you, unspoken and forever silent, worked its way through your body. Until the shake in your arms disappeared and your chest felt lighter.

Once again the rustling echoed in the distance, what you guessed to be a wild rabbit coming out to find food for itself. You didn’t give yourself time to wonder anymore, because Joel was nudging your foot forward with his. Pushing you into a stance that released the pressure you felt on your lower back. Taking in a breath, you felt him release his against the back of your neck, causing your hair to stand straight and chills to spread down your spine.

You wanted to lean into him. Feel his warmth a bit longer, but the animal was getting closer—your window closing with each passing second.

“You see it?” he murmured, head nodding in its direction.

“Yeah…I see it.”

Taking in a breath, you felt him guide your arm, the arrow in position, before you let it go. You could have sworn time slowed down as it flew through the air. Its movements, soundless amidst the echo of nature that resounded through the area. With bated breath, you watched it soar until it hit its mark with a thud—the animal collapsing into the brush. Dead.

Laughing, you dropped your arm and half expected him to shift away from you, but he remained. His hand, still clutching onto yours with a gentler touch. Rather than pull away, you allowed him to stand there—his breath brushing along your neck softly every few seconds. Neither of you spoke. Too afraid of breaking whatever this was, of losing the small comfort of his touch.

Eventually you would have to collect the rabbit and things would go back to the semblance of normal that came before. But for now…you weren’t two survivors. You weren’t on the brink of losing to the fear, giving into the idea of a quick death. For those small minutes, you were a woman being touched by a man.

You were human again.

“Good job,” he said, pulling away entirely and allowing the cold air to envelop you again.

You wondered if he felt it. The speed of your heartbeat, the longing that caused an ache to spread throughout your body. Did he long for touch too? Or had he cut himself off from that? You wanted to know the answer, but asking him questions never went well with you. So you stood there, watching him walk down the cliff and towards the animal whose life would sustain yours for just a bit longer.

That was the irony of the apocalypse. No matter how much you tried to escape it, death would remain.

Whether good or bad, it would forever be the only constant in this world.

The fire crackled in the night air. You watched as sparks floated up to the sky before being extinguished by oxygen. The sight made you smile, bringing you back to childhood memories of camping and college nights sitting at bonfires. You remembered fire being contiguous to joy, small moments of peace that came before the pain.

It was pure, a way to end the infection, but also a way to sustain life. So, you relished in it, sitting on ground beside your bag as Joel worked with the rabbit. He claimed that it needed to be cooked and eaten so you could move on—the smell attracting not just infected, but larger animals that might have survived too. You took his word as the truth, assisting him by bringing the fire to life and setting it in a makeshift pit.

“Where’d you learn to do this?” he asked, setting up the rabbit over the flames.

You grinned, pushing a piece of wood in closer. “He speaks,” you joked.

“When he needs to.” He didn’t smile, didn’t offer you anything other than the small retort, but you took it nonetheless.

“My brother. He used to be a Marine.” You pushed around the brush beneath the wood. “He’d always tell me that I needed to know two things. How to defend myself and how to build a fire. Somehow I was always better at building the fire.”

He didn’t comment, didn’t need to. You saw the way he listened to you, his eyes flickering back and forth from the fire before landing back on you. The moon hung low in the sky, the light from it illuminating the area around you, but the fire illuminated him. Casting shadows across his face and deepening the growing lines that were barely beginning to show with his age. You never asked how old he was—didn’t feel the need to—but now as you gazed at him, you wondered.

“I’m sorry about before,” you admitted, tearing your eyes away from him.

“Sorry ‘bout what?”

A crack echoed in the air as the wood snapped in two, falling to the ground and catching onto the brush.

“I shouldn’t have asked about your watch.” Once again he averted his attention elsewhere, turning the rabbit and avoiding your gaze. After a moment, you figured pushing past it was your best option. So you opted for something different. “What’s your name?”

He glanced up, eyebrows furrowing. “You know my name.”

“No, I mean your full name.”

“Hm.” He shifted, stretching his leg out. “Miller’s my last name.”

Your lips pulled up, teeth digging into your bottom lip. “Joel…Miller. It’s nice.”

He huffed slightly, almost a laugh but not quite. “What’s yours?”

“Hm.” You mused, glancing at the fire that ate away at the wood. 

Your full name fell from your lips, foreign sounding to your ears after years of never hearing it. At times you felt like a myth that no one could remember—a forgotten deity with no name to hold as your own. When he repeated it, the sound curling around his tongue and filling your stomach with warmth, you knew you wanted to hear him say it again.

If only to remember who you used to be for a brief moment longer.

He used his knife to tear off pieces of meat, handing it to you quickly before it cooled off. The small gesture reminded you of the people you used to survive with. How they’d make sure everyone got enough to eat, handing off the food with a smile; the kindness in their hearts, extinguished at the first pull of a trigger. You wanted to remember them with the same nostalgia as your old life, but there was nothing to be had there.

“Where’s your brother now?” Joel asked, interrupting your train of memories.

A sour feeling spread through your stomach, your chest tightening with each intake of breath. While normally, you’d forgo answering questions about your past, it seemed only fair this time.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled, digging your teeth into the meat and chewing slowly, savoring its flavor. “I uh…I managed to get out of Boston before they bombed the place. Made it home to see him gone.”

He stayed quiet, giving you room to continue if you wanted to. You should have stopped there, having answered his question with the truth, but after so long of sitting in your grief—it begged you to spill free.

“I had a mom too,” you said, staring at the orange glow of the flames. “I thought I’d find her when I got back. I mean she raised a man to become a Marine so she obviously must have known how to fight.” The breath felt heavy in your lungs, the sting of tears burning your eyes. “She was dead when I got there. Didn’t even have a chance to say goodbye,” you finished bitterly, the memory still burned into your mind.

If you could go back you would in a heartbeat. If only to have a chance to speak to her again, to tell her all the things you left unsaid. The world fell to shit faster than anyone expected—the virus spreading too quickly to give you enough time. So, you remained with what little you could still remember about her—hoping it would be enough in the end.

Joel didn’t respond. He simply stared at his watch, his thumb brushing along the face of it tenderly. You almost didn’t want him to say anything. For the first time in days, you were okay with sitting in silence with him. Content to simply stare at the fire, finish your meal, and go on your way. You knew that if he spoke, if he answered your question, there’d be no going back…for either of you.

“Her name was Sarah,” he said, eyes not meeting yours and body rigid. The words made you freeze, eyes trained on his silhouette that the shadows played along. 

You didn’t ask who she was, what she meant to him, because you knew he wouldn’t tell you either way. He said her name, and answered your question in his own way. It occurred to you that you were the only ones who knew each other's secret weight of grief and that was enough for you. Taking his words with a nod, you continued to eat until you finished off what he gave you; your stomach finally full after so long.

The smell of smoke filled your senses as you fought against the wave of exhaustion that riddled your body. You couldn’t sleep here. Not when the threat of infected remained dangerous in the woods. Although you weren’t sure what the fuck they’d be doing in the middle of nowhere anyways. They couldn’t survive here.

You weren’t sure how much time passed before you decided to lay down, your head propped up on your bag. The floor was uncomfortable; the rocks digging into your spine were the only thing keeping you awake, but you made do.

“What I wouldn’t give for some vodka,” you said, staring at the stars in the sky, trying to catch sight of some familiar constellations.

Joel scoffed, the sound still unfamiliar to your ears. “I’m more of a whiskey man myself.”

“Oh yeah? Where are you from?”

“Texas,” he replied, his southern drawl thicker as if to emphasize his point.

You snorted, staring at the moon. “Should’ve known with the way you can fucking shoot.” 

The fire would die down soon enough, leaving the both of you to freeze. Yet that didn’t stop you from settling further into your position, in an attempt to find a comfortable spot. You missed the bed from a few days ago—how it was so soft beneath your body. So normal after the hell you’d been through. But you knew if you two had stayed there, you’d be left to deal with the consequences that were sure to come.

“Do you think they’ve got alcohol in Boston?” you blurted out, feeling your eyes grow heavy.

He sighed, shifting his movements until his back was pressed up against the boulder. “Don’t know. I hope so.”

“What else do you like Texas?”

“Ha ha,” he drawled, his eyes falling shut. “I used to own a guitar.”

That perked you up a bit. “Don’t tell me you can sing?”

“I can’t sing.”

“Shit,” you whispered. “A girl can dream.”

“What about you Boston?” You could have sworn you heard a smile in his voice.

You smirked. “Ha ha.” Crossing your arms, you did your best to fight sleep, knowing if something happened you needed to be ready to run. “I used to have a record collection my mom started for me as a kid.” He hummed, his eyes still shut. “Nothing you would have listened to since you probably like country music.”

His foot tapped your arm, bringing out a peal of laughter from your chest that was most likely caused by the delirium of your sleeplessness. The last time you got some rest was a few days ago in that house. Even if you wanted to fight against it, you knew you’d pass out regardless—leaving the both of you vulnerable to any attacks. You reasoned that an hour or two wouldn’t hurt and before you could question the feeling in your gut, you were gone.

Falling into the arms of exhaustion that beckoned you closer. Promising a safe haven of a dark void without pain.

“Boston. Wake up.” Someone shaking your shoulders, jolted you awake. Your eyes flew open, hand going to the gun on your side. Only to see Joel crouching over you—the morning sun barely coming up above the trees.

You groaned, head falling back against your bag. “There’s a nicer way of waking people up, you know. A good morning—”

His hand slapped over your mouth, fingers curling around your jaw to snap it shut as he raised a finger to his lips. Fear filled your body, the cold wash of anxiety spreading down your spine as you sat up slowly. His eyes were hard, expression mimicking his emotions. The longer you stared at him, the more you realized that the man you met had returned—the hunter who was ruthless when need be.

Before you could ask him what was going on, you heard it. The familiar chilling screech of an infected. Your body jolted, eyes going wide before you slowly reached for the gun and pulled it into your lap.

Joel nodded, letting go of your jaw before gesturing with his hand to follow him as he crouched behind the rocks. You had half a mind to ask what the fuck one of those things was doing all the way out here, but figured neither of you knew the answer. Both of you were bound to run into another one sooner or later. From the sound of it, you could tell it was a runner.

Probably some poor bastard who was out trying to survive on their own. A flash of sympathy shot through your heart, before you loaded a bullet into the chamber of your gun.

“We need to go around,” he said lowly, his gun at the ready—bow and arrow strapped across his back.

“Can’t we just kill it?”

He shook his head, slowly shifting around the rock. “There might be more than one.”

“Shit.” Exhaling, you nodded at him to move, ready to run if you had to.

Standing to your full height with him, you caught sight of the infected staggering around the forest. They were barely turned, the fungus not even grown out of its body yet. Which meant that they were fast, able to chase if they caught sight of you and Joel. Holding your breath, you crept around the trees with your weapon at the ready—the nerves now prominent in your racing heart.

Neither of you spoke, too afraid of catching its attention, but it was too late. Before you could pull him back, Joel’s boot landed on a stick, snapping it in two. The sound bounced off the trees—a terrifying stillness accompanying it, and for a moment you thought maybe you both got lucky. Maybe it didn’t hear.

Until it screeched, whipping around to see you and him standing there, guns at the ready.

Joel loaded his shotgun, pointing it at the runner, but it launched its body at him, taking him to the ground in a tackle. You heard Joel shout, his arm slamming against the thing’s throat to block a bite. Only you knew that wouldn’t work. Grabbing the fallen gun, you pointed it quickly, took the best aim you could, and pulled the trigger. It went off with a loud bang, blood splattering on the dirty floor. The gun slammed into your shoulder, nearly toppling you over, but you held steady as Joel pushed himself free. His head falling to the forest floor.

While he caught his breath, you surveyed the area for signs of more of them. But the forest remained silent. You must not be far from a city or town for one of those things to find you all the way out here. Thankfully it was only a runner and not something far worse. You’d heard the stories, knew what else resided in the darkness, and hoped that you’d never have to meet it.

“Not bad Boston,” he rasped.

You shrugged. “I had a good teacher,” you said, offering your hand to pull him up. He groaned as he stood, wiping the leaves off his pants. “Hey Joel.”

His eyes met yours—a flash of something you guessed to be concern going through them. “Yeah?”

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

For the first time in days you saw his lips pull up into a smile, his laugh hitting your ears and sending that familiar and welcome heat through your body. 

“Good idea,” he replied, taking the shotgun back.

This time, you took the lead. Heading further into the trees with him following close behind. The sun continued to rise in the distance, morning finally greeting what remained of the world. All the while your brain replayed his laugh, the sound deep and raspy just like his voice, yet…more. You found that you wanted to hear him laugh again. Wanted to know what he sounded like when he was happy, but that you’d probably never get to witness it again.

Maybe in another life, you reasoned to yourself and that thought alone was good enough for you.

For now.