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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months

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my girl 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as possible age gap, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your brother's friend from work starts hanging out a lot more often. (short!reader)

Characters: Captain Syverson

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

The curtains stir in the summer breeze, the smell of pollen wafting in and tickling your nose. You scrunch your face, resisting as sneeze and flip the page of the book, your eyes racing across the letters, devouring them. After another year of academia, you’re all too eager to spend your summer devouring your ‘to read’ list.

The flick of pages marks the passage of time. You don’t sense how the sky sifts from a beaming yellow to a gentle blue. Not until the knock comes at the door and draws you from the world built of prose. You blink and lift your head, mark your page and leave it on your pillow. You push yourself across the low bed and yawn. Only as you don’t have words to read do you feel the fatigue in your eyes.

“Peanut,” your mother calls you by the childhood nickname you can’t seem to shake, “gonna help with dinner?”

You open the door to her and step out, “yeah, should do something.”

“You should,” she chides playfully. “I already got the roast beef in, just need you to do sides.”

“Great,” you shuffle down the hall behind her and rub your eyes. You don’t know if it’s allergies or reading that has you so dried out.

Downstairs, you go into the kitchen and the aroma of the roast has your mouth watering already. In your delve into the land of fantasy, you may have forgotten to feed yourself. It’s not an uncommon occurrence; during the school year, you often studied until your head pounded and your stomach roared. The human body tends only to get in the way of the mind.

You work at peeling potatoes as your mom takes out a medley of vegetables to put in a roasting pan. She seasons as you chop, the low murmur of her outdated music filling the hazy summer air. You can hear the children next door running around and the bristle of trees swaying in the wind.

“Oh, make sure to throw in a few extra, pea,” she says as you go to curl over the top of the bag, “your brother’s bringing his friend.”

“Friend? Johnny?” You wonder.

“That man from his work, Syverson,” she corrects, “with the beard.”

“Uh yeah, I remember.”

You’ve met Syverson, or Sy as he prefers. Your brother, Isaac, started his apprenticeship last summer with the man down at the metal shop. There are vague instances in your mind when you recall the large bearded man sitting at the table across from you. He’s older than your brother, you too. Probably closer to your parent’s age. He doesn’t say much either but he’s polite. You think.

You shrug and pull out some more potatoes to add to peel and cut. You do so quietly, your mind wandering back to your book even as the real world threatens to wipe it away. You’re so swept up in the fraught quest to reclaim a forgotten world that you can hardly focus on the blade.

You blink as the knife hits the board, too close to your thumb. Pay attention. Often your mom comments that you look far away and just as often you are. Existing in this world can be so boring. Potatoes and roast beef.

You rinse off the spuds and put them on to boil. You’ll mash them like you always do and add your mother’s ‘secret’ ingredient; herb and cheese sour cream. You’re pretty sure every mother on the block claims that as their little revolution.

As the water starts to steam, you hear a car pull up and a louder engine behind it. Your mom checks the beef, letting out a gust of savoury air. You are starving.

As you toss the peels in the bin, the front door opens. Isaac’s voice carries through the house as he chatters on about sparks and some work thing. Your mom’s head pops up as she waits eager for his appearance.

He peeks into the kitchen as a pair of footsteps follow behind him. You mom greets him with a kiss, “hello, bubby, how was your day?”

“Mom,” he scowls and wipes his cheek, “it was fine. Burnt myself pretty good.”

He shows a bandage on his forearm and shrugs. Your mother gasp, “oh, honey!”

“Told him to put his gauntlets on,” Syverson stands just beyond the doorway, his shadow looming like an evil orc in a cavern, waiting to pounce. You shake off the comparison as he comes into the light of the kitchen, a case of beer in hand. “Brought something for dinner,” he puts down the six-pack and shifts as you notice the red cap and label poking out from under his arm. He catches the bottle before it can slip and presents it to your mother, “and for the ladies.”

“Oh, Syverson, you’re always so sweet.”

“Mm, least I can do, y’all having me, feeding me,” he reaches to rub his neck. “Mind if I use the bathroom? Gotta wash my hands.”

“Course, dear, you know where it is,” she preens.

He leans on his back foot and his eyes glint in your direction. Despite his gruff exterior, his shaved head and thick beard, and his work-stained tee shirt, his eyes seem to sparkle, “evening,” he nods in your direction, as if he’s only just noticed you.

“Hi,” you murmur and turn back to wash the starch from the cutting board.

Having company is always awkward. You’re the only member of your family who isn’t very social. You have your classmates and a few friends you’ll hang out with on occasion but your parents and your brother always seem to have someone with them. If it isn’t one of your mom’s HOA accomplices, it’s one of your dad’s neighbourhood buddies arguing over the barbecue.

You continue to tidy up as you wait for the food to be ready. You take out some plates and cutlery, wanting to distract yourself by setting the table. You stack the plates and the utensil slides around on top as you carry them into the hallway. You have to stop short as you nearly collide with Sy.

“Sorry,” he apologises and backs up, “need help?”

He points to your armful and you smile and shake your head, “all good.”

“Don’t mind,” he says as he puts his large hands around the stack of plates. They’re pretty thick and heavy on their own but he takes them from you easily.

“Um, right, then I’ll get... cups.”

You turn back and flit into the kitchen. Your mom hums as she strains the potatoes. She doesn’t notice you counting glasses from the cupboard and balancing them all in your arms. You go down the hall, this time without obstacle, and into the dining room. You angle awkwardly to put down all the glasses at once.

Sy lays out the plates and cutlery one at a time, certain to have each perfectly centered and straight. He focuses on the task intently. The sight of his earnest effort contrasted by his burly figure is almost silly. You plunk down the glasses at the corner of each plate, staying on the other side of the table from him.

“Your back from school,” he says as he finishes, stepping back to cross his arms, making himself even larger. Most people are big compared to you.

“Mhmm,” you nod with a rigid tight-lipped grin.

“You graduate?” He asks.

You try not to show your surprise. You’re not sure you’ve ever had a conversation with him. It’s just nods and grunts sent in your direction. Just acknowledgement. Just courtesy.

“One more year,” you say, “erm, I’ll go help mom.”

“Right,” he drops his arms and grips the back of the chair in front of him, “don’t let me keep ya.”

You inch backwards and spin around, trying not to run away. It isn’t him. It’s you. It’s easier to read dialogue on a page and pretend it’s coming from your lips than it is to hold a conversation in real life. You would rather go back and finish your chapter then sit at the table and eat with your family, especially now that you’ve made it awkward.

#captain syverson #dark captain syverson #dark!captain syverson #captain syverson x reader #drabble #sandcastle #series #my girl #au

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samodivaa · 1 year

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Winter Soldier x Asset!Reader You just returned from a mission—you provoke him, but the tension flicks from anger to fevered desire.

Warnings - smut, smut, he hasn't felt arousal for a long time ;)

Words - 2500

❆⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❆⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❆

Soldat wraps himself in anger, with a dash of annoyance, and at the bottom of it all is an icy center of pure horror—the intensity of this forgotten sensation, not bloodlust—it is pure human lust—his metal hand tightens around your neck.

"I'm sorry. Please, let me go now, please" but the trickling sounds of your pleas makes him feel thirsty for more.

It is not lust or infatuation—this is intoxication, a craven’s craving he can't explain nor control. He looks at your eyes—dainty blend of colors, lips are rosebuds, cheeks have the color of flamboyant flowers. You are Summer, he is Winter.

"Again"

"What-t?" Your voice is bewildering, and yet mysteriously beautiful.

"Beg. Again."

You poorly try to hide your shock. This is an unprecedented turn of events. The programmed machine inside you wants to block that, to scream for help, and the human inside you wants more.

"Please, please, Soldat"

"Fuck…" he mutters.

His eyes are nearly black, the pupils dilated as he pulls away and moves backwards. Winter stays still, but you see a tremor pass through him—as if he is waging a war with himself.

Hydra always plays with his mind, lies to him, but lust is what it is, it never lies—it is real and he feels it, but his apparatus is so rusted that he doesn’t understand what is happening fully.

And it is not only the faculty of love, lust which were sterilized, but also the faculty of imagination—he never imagined that he would do something like that. Now, he involves his mind in the abuse of imagination in erotic matters—fires of lust spring up for the first time and he groans like some baffled prowling beast.

“What is it, Winter?”

He wants to sin with you, to force you to sin with him and to exult with you in sin.

“Soldat?”

He feels the lust’s presence moving irresistibly upon him, a presence subtle and murmurous as a flood filling him wholly with itself.

“I need to touch you, I need—”

A litany. An enchantment. A curse.

He explores you from a distance as he makes several steps backwaters, with his unspoken desire, with the fear that touching you would set him to flame. And you want nothing more in that moment than to prove very much the opposite.

“Do it then”

It's enough for Winter, to hear the soothing whisper of comforting words countering the panic and the frostiness of darkness in his soul.

At that, he makes a harsh, low sound. His eyes exude insinuation and you know it.

You are both alone, surrounded by darkness and silence: and in that moment of supreme tenderness, he starts to transfigure—by his monstrous way of life, this seems—beyond the limits of reality.

He tries to bid his tongue so that he might seem at ease, watching you as you shamelessly undo your dirty cargo pants and shirt.

As he stands silent, watching you undress—you are breathtakingly beautiful as you stand there in the dark, the dim lights letting your skin look ghostly pale. When you make steps towards him, he instinctively tries to make several steps backward, but the wall behind prevents it.

You come over to him and you embrace him gaily and gravely, arms holding him firmly by the waist, his eyes couldn't help, but move down at your cleavage, exposing the flawless skin—dozens of inappropriate thoughts suddenly rushes through his head when you let out a small sigh of frustration.

Seeing his face lifts to yours—serious as he feels the warm, calm rise and fall of your breast.

“Samodiva—”

You suddenly kiss Soldat, his head tilting to meet your mouth, lips warm and mobile as they play against his own in a medley of light brushes and soft nibbles. The kiss lingers, each tantalizing caress is his answer which he is too afraid to say out loud. Gentle, but your kiss becomes deliberately seductive. Settling on his lower lip, you draw it into your mouth and suck at it softly, lips, tongue and teeth working in sensuous harmony as his cock jolts to life and you move your hips closer, framing the hardness.

It is too much for him.

He closes his eyes, surrendering himself to you, body and mind, conscious of nothing in the world but the dark pressure of both your hands and softly parting lips—his flesh shrinking from what it dreads and responds to the stimulus of your touch, his long forgotten sexual needs—purely a reflex action of the nervous system.

You catch yourself staring at the sensual curve of his lips, the impressive cut of his jaw, devouring every part of him with eyes.

And then, weakness, confusion and inexperience fall from him in that moment—your eyes bright with brutish joy meets his—ferocity burns in his gaze promising something primal—your soul shriveled up as he snatches you up around the waist and sits you on the metal table nearby.

You are in his hands—you have to comply.

It is the impatience of the way he tears your panties and bra from your body that really scares you: the lust getting the better of him and you spread your legs wide, exposing your overall and the fragrance of the essences permits in the air, he can smell it.

Reaching out, he grabs your chin

“Have you done this with the others?”

His human fingers dig into the skin, forcing a whimper from your parted lips.

Holding you in place, he awaits for a response

“Yes-s” your voice is quiet, almost lost in the helpless darkness of his presence.

Soldat haltes, blue eyes frosting.

He slams his metal fist down on the table

“I forbid you” he whispers before running the tip of his tongue along your neck, tasting the sweat that has just formed.

There is a stubbornness about you that never can bear to be frightened at the will of the Winter Soldier. Your courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate you, but this time you feel helpless as fear spreads to every part of the body.

The unmistakable flare of jealousy narrows his eyes—there is that infamous control of his hovering on the edge, balancing precariously on the point of a knife, it makes your breath hitch.

The primal lust, the sheer need to claim you, quickly finding ways to express his sacred hunger to you in animal passion. He relishes that delicious feeling of freedom, the delirium of being human, his flesh is being born again.

This demon is made for you—his dark eyes and possessiveness have you hooked, his darkness frightens, soothes, but now that darkness is lustful—half god, half hell.

Soldat is a wraithlike observer most of his life, but he takes control for the first time and there is a theatrical quality about all this—he is irreparably damaged, but with your scent filling his nostrils there seems to be a some primitive male instinct as his throat tighten with a hunger he never experienced before—it draws him in deeply, imagining that was how hot sex smells.

“Ти си моя” he says low and quiet and as vicious—his fingers, caressing your tights simultaneously, spreading them further apart.

You feel your heart beat faster, your face flush, and your ire rise, you avoid his cold stare, reeling at his words—you are mine—his hands gripping your hair firmly in a show of dominance, making you face him before Soldat quickly delves into a deep and possessive kiss, his lips are full and warm, soft against yours, but the kiss is hard and desperate.

"If Springtime crawls out of the wild mouths of flowers, then surely, Winter crawls out of mine."

He smirks against your lips when you can't hide your moans, your hands slowly snaking their way around his shoulders, pulling him closer, the intrusive need to be consumed by him.

“Be quiet”

He huffs nonchalantly, stalking closer to lick at the crook of your neck as he runs his hands along your sides, the flesh one stopping just below your breasts—but the metal one flicks your nipple with his thumb as he passes it. He rubs in a slow circular motion as he observes your reactions.

You don’t know when he moves his human hand, but his fingers down to your burning sex, separating your folds and running a thick finger over the slit. He could smell your arousal and knows he needs a taste of you—a groan tears out of his throat.

“Be quiet” you want to mock his own words, but you breathe out heavily and hard as you say them.

You thought he would have a clever reply — something to win, something to shut you up.

In a way, you guess he did.

Your hands tighten on his biceps as he inserts a second finger, your fingernails scrape into him, and the slight pain is pleasurable, knowing he is one giving you pleasure—hypnotized by your velvety moans—you are panting, mouth watering.

You keep your eyes open for as long as you can, hoping that your brainwashed, imperfect memory would capture even just half as much as his.

It suddenly occurred to him he doesn’t know your real name, he wants to call you something.

“Snezinka” His voice is deep and guttural, the word rumbling and vibrating against your neck. It caresses your skin almost sensually

“My snezinka” (snowflake) drawls in a voice too playful for the fear flooding your veins.

You moan quietly again, eyes finally fluttering close as he twists his hand just so, delving two fingers deep within your wet folds below and curling them.

You can feel him: his breath coming down on your neck in heavy, hungry pants, his fingers drawing out teasingly and forcing your hips to buck at the motion. With a hum of pleasure, he lets his fingers slide almost all the way out and his throat tightens at the feel of your channel bearing down, trying to hold on to him as he withdraws completely.

Winter reaches between your bodies and begins to unbuckle his pants. His breathing comes in louder and harder as he tries to control his emotions and movements.

His palm runs along his hardened length, stroking himself slowly—

You suddenly pull him by the straps of his harness and he needs to brace himself using the table on both sides of your body—he grunts at your aggressiveness and strength.

A tentative smile on his lips.

“Snezinka…I was not going anywhere” he taunts and presses his lips to yours.

He looks at you with a vicious smirk, as if he’d won something.

In a way, he supposes he has.

His husky voice reaches a playful tone he hadn't touched on in years, decades—he doesn’t know.

Winter holds his cock by the base of it, running the tip up and down your pussy, making sure to linger around your clit.

Your mouth opens and closes several times, your vocal chords struggle to produce words, but your lips simply move in silence, your hands winding through his hair. You wrap your legs, quivering from fear, sexual yearn at a height you never before felt, around his waist, pulling him to you as he poses and you whine, his head creeping in first before his whole penis is engulfed into your wet sex, your pussy stretching around him, he keeps his descent slow and torturous.

Painfully sweet, he moans—

feeling him impale you onto his cock, stilling in you for a moment so you could feel just how deep he is—enjoying how the metal hand grips your waist tightly.

You are not soft or feminine; you are a hard-edged and cold brainwashed machine, crowned in razor wire of hate. For him, you have always been a flower—he takes your thorns as a challenge. Winter will have you scorch with the savagery of his cruel passions and needs—until you are conditioned to bloom in his flames.

He groans, fucking into you harder now, the head of his cock hitting your cervix as your eyes, water up at the sensation of being so stuffed as he gives you more and more—him fuckin you like that flips your brain inside out and turns your cunt to pudding.

Winter leans near your ear, holding your jaw still, with flesh digits, as he speaks.

“Talk to me, snezinka, how do you feel?” he grunts and you shudder, lips pucker from the grip he has on you as you try to speak.

Gasping for breath, you writhe mindlessly in his grasp, only to find yourself easily restrained—all you can do is tighten your legs around him, trying to usher him to fuck you again.

You are annoyed at his cockyness

That's why you sink your nails into his shoulders, scrabbling for purchase against the fabric, then fisting one hand in his hair. You pull hard on the wet locks, gasping when your violence earns you a particularly hard slam of his hips.

Sin is a lustful state—he actually likes it.

“Do it again” he commands—thrusts grow jerky.

You tug his hair again.

“Солдат-” (Soldat)

And that’s all he needs to hear before he starts ravaging what you’ve just called him—pounding into you, setting an unrelenting pace, clutching him hard as the pleasure spirals up and up.

He hisses, teeth gritting with the sole purpose of making you cum before he does.

The force of his thrusts is making the table quake, but your quiet moans of approval are so satisfying he keeps at it and you starts clenching around him—deliberately massaging his cock, orgasming wordlessly as he continues to fuck you right through it.

He hides his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent sharply as he keeps rutting hard inside of you—your cunt convulsing around him, trying to milk his cock, is making his thrusts sloppy—several incoherent thrusts lead him to come inside, a roar rumbling in his chest.

He wraps his arms around you, and you sink into his chest, marveling at how easy this feels. You both don't accept touch easily, but with him, it seems natural.

Your newfound foundation is rocky, because you make a home in each other’s skin and memory—the damage is beginning to show. You are ready to self-destruct, there is very little left to kill anyway—which makes this tragedy less and more much, much more worse.

What actually led to this situation?

You always help each other undress after the missions, but this time your mind wanderers as you remove the small glove from his metal hand—flashing between images of various memories of killed people and imagined scenarios, you wouldn't have thought of outside of this hazy consciousness—but

Wanting makes the mind restless

He blinks at you, eyes looking perfectly indifferent—and yet, delight in yours; the moment you develop an idea is the exact moment you execute it—you give the hand a squeeze before the chemical desire to taste it overpowers everything in both your mind and body and you bring the fingers to your mouth, dipping two inside

His metal hand is an erotic necessity

—you feverishly lick, drenching them in your saliva, moving your tongue along his fingers all the while.

He suddenly moves, grabbing you by the neck hardly, demanding an explanation.

#his fingers are not a lollipop? who are you talking to right now?#metal arm kink fr #winter soldier smut #winter soldier x asset!reader #winter soldier imagine #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier fic #winter soldier fanfiction #winter soldier x you #smut #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine

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lemarideleclerc · 6 months

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The Hardlaunch

Charles Leclerc x famous reader

Summary: you and Charles have been dating for about 7 months now and have been keeping it a secret from everyone except your tight-knit friends and family. After he wins the Grand Prix in his hometown, you guys decide to nothing in in the world mattered except one another.

It was almost like any other Friday morning, Monte Carlo’s warm spring air waltzing through your window in a mindless manner. You had awoken comfortable and warm in your bed, the mattress only slightly distorted and your hair splayed over your pillows in a messy fashion. You unplugged your phone, lying next to you, excited as ever to dress up and sneak your way past the paparazzi into the Monaco GP. Your assistant entered your apartment, first making her presence known by two quick and prominent knocks. “Good morning, have you decided what you wanted to sport to the race today?” She quickly asked as a metal rack of pre-picked designer outfits was rolled into the entryway by one of the clearly underpaid apartment staff. Glancing at the outfits, you deciphered that some were too gaudy and chic, while others were too casual and plain. You ended up picking a medley of vintage channel from the 90’s, as well as some of your signature black sunglasses. To your ensemble, you placed one of your boyfriend’s rings on your finger, a reminder of safety and comfort for an otherwise unfamiliar situation. Your boyfriend, Charles, was the only reason you were going to the race anyway. You two were so happy together, feeling like home to one another. Although you two were going on only your 7th month of dating, you had known each other for much longer. Ever since he went backstage to find you after your headlining Coachella performance 2 years ago, you hit it off instantly. You were both nervous around each other in a timid and embarrassed manner, which still sometimes lingered around you to this day. Your relationship with Charles was quite healthy and passionate, although not public; not even to his own teammate or fellow drivers. The only people who knew about your relationship were both his and your family, and your guys’ tight-knit friends. Putting on your baby blue sun hat, you made your way down to the car, where your driver awaited you, with the help of your assistant and security detail.

After arriving at the venue and seemingly making it past the press, you flashed your padock pass to the guard, your own security guard following you. You made it front row in your own quiet little section of Ferrari’s garage, outside to see the race in the golden sun but secluded from any main cameras or tv casters. The race was tight, Your beloved Charlie fighting with Max (who you’ve actually become quite close friends with) for first position. By just a mere 1.3 seconds, Charles Leclerc had crossed that finish line first. Your heart pounded with excitement, nervousness, and an overwhelming eager causing you to shuffle his ring around your finger. Meeting him at the podium, he fought past other fans and even some relatives to get to you. The two of you exchanged glances at each other, the busy crowd coming to a mute at each other’s presence. Almost instantaneously, he wrapped his toned arms around you and picked you up, spinning you in the air. He set you down ever so delicately, and kissed you so passionately it felt like he had been gone at war for years. All of the major cameras and news outlets captured the moment live, the crowd erupting and the press having a field day. But you two didn’t care. You were happy with one another, happy with the loud and public lives you both live. “Mon Cheri” your boyfriend whispered under his breath whilst holding you to his chest. “We did it”.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x famous reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 #charles leclerc x singer reader #charles leclerc x y/n #Drabble #ferrari #first post

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pupsmailbox · 6 months

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MUSIC ID PACK

NAMES ⌇　abby. ace. adagio. adam. adria. adrian. adriane. aero. alex. alice. angus. ann. anthony. ari. aria. ariane. ariette. avril. axl. bill. billie. billy. bohemia. bon. brad. brian. bruce. cade. cadence. cadentia. cantrelle. charlie. cher. chester. chordelle. chordette. chordiene. chrissie. christine. cliff. crescenette. crescenne. cresciene. danny. dave. david. dolce. dolcette. dolciene. dolciette. don. doremi. duff. dusty. eddie. ensemblette. enslette. eric. fleetwood. florance. floyd. forte. frank. freddie. geddy. geezer. gene. george. ginger. glenn. grace. gregg. halen. harmonette. harmonie. harmony. harp. hayley. helena. iggy. izzy. jack. jimi. jimmy. joe. john. keith. krist. kurt. larry. liam. lindsey. lyric. lyrical. mac. malcolm. maynard. medley. meliene. melodie. melodiette. melody. micheal. mick. mitch. muse. musette. musine. nancy. neal. neil. nick. nicko. nicky. noel. note. notesie. notesy. octavia. orchestrae. orchestraette. orchestraine. ozzy. paul. pear. pete. peter. phil. randy. rick. ringo. robert. roger. ronnie. rosa. rose. sabbath. serj. sonata. sonette. songbird. songesse. songette. songstress. sonia. sonnet. steve. steven. stevie. symphonia. symponiette. thom. tim. tom. tony. treble. viola. violette. violiene. zack. zeppelin.

PRONOUNS ⌇　aero/aero. band/band. base/base. beat/beat. black/black. blink/blink. chili/chili. crash/crash. cream/cream. cure/cure. door/door. dor/doremi. dru/drum. drum/drum. eagle/eagle. electric/electric. flu/flute. flute/flute. for/forte. forte/forte. guitar/guitar. gun/gun. har/harp. heart/heart. hot/hot. iron/iron. jam/jam. journey/journey. jump/jump. ke/key. kiss/kiss. la/lala. loud/loud. ly/lyric. machine/machine. maiden/maiden. mel/melody. metal/metal. mu/muse. mu/music. muse/muse. music/music. nirvana/nirvana. no/note. noe/note. note/note. oasis/oasis. oct/octave. pearl/pearl. pepper/pepper. perform/perform. pi/piano. pia/piano. piano/piano. pink/pink. queen/queen. radio/radio. rage/rage. red/red. reverb/reverb. rhy/rhythm. riff/riff. rock/rock. rose/rose. rush/rush. scorpion/scorpion. scream/scream. shred/shred. sing/sing. soe/song. soe/sonnet. sol/sola. song/song. spike/spike. stone/stone. string/string. stud/stud. tempo/tempo. tre/treble. treble/treble. trumpet/trumpet. tu/tune. tuba/tuba. tune/tune. vio/violin. vocal/vocal. yell/yell. 🎤. 🎧. 🎵. 🎶. 🎷. 🎸. 🎹. 🎻. 🎼. 💥. 📹. 🔊. 🔋. 🔌. 🗯️. 🤘. 🥁. 🧑🏻‍🎤.

#⭐️lists #id pack #npt #name suggestions #name ideas #name list #pronoun suggestions #pronoun ideas #pronoun list #neopronouns #nounself #emojiself #musickin #music

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atimeofyourlife · 10 months

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A song for the night

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt: open mic night | rated: t | wc: 689 | tags: pre-steddie Eddie performs at open mic night at the bar Steve works at

Open Mic Night was somehow both Steve's favorite and least favorite night of the month to be working the bar. It was his favorite because it usually wasn't too busy, and he got to enjoy the local talent of musicians and comedians. It was his least favorite because for every one good or half decent act, there were five or six bad ones. And unlike the patrons of the bar, he couldn't just go out for a smoke during every comedian whose jokes sat firmly in the misogynistic, homophobic, and racist categories, or every tone-deaf singer that didn't understand how to tune an instrument. And to top it all off, he had to be the one to get up on the stage between each act, enthusiastically thanking them, trying to rouse something of an applause, before introducing the next act.

It was after a frightfully painful comedic routine, that seemed to have consisted solely of the guy talking about how much he hated his wife, that Steve caught sight of him. An attractive guy with long dark hair.

"Okay, thank you Derrek, for that interesting comedy routine. Everybody, give it up for Derrek." Steve kept his voice full of fake enthusiasm as he brought his hands together a few times. He then checked the list for the name of the next act. "And next up, we have another local musician. Please welcome Eddie Munson to the stage." Steve clapped a few more times as he made his way offstage, heading back behind the bar. He glanced up at the stage, and saw the most handsome man he'd seen in his entire life. It felt like it didn't matter whether or not this Eddie was any good, Steve was going to enjoy just watching him.

He couldn't keep staring the entire time, having to serve drinks to the other patrons of the bar, but his attention did keep getting drawn back to the man on the stage. He looked and sounded incredible, playing an acoustic medley of metal songs. Steve had to shake himself out of it after he'd gotten distracted while pouring a drink, overfilling the glass and covering his hand in beer. He handed the beer over to the customer, before drying his hands on a paper towel. Thankfully, it was nearly time for the next act, so Steve made his way back to the stage, hoping that someone else being up there would help him focus on his work again. Eddie finished the last song, and stepped back from the mic, starting to pack down his guitar. Steve stepped on to the stage, applauding as he went.

"Now, wasn't that incredible, ladies and gentlemen. Everyone, give a hand for Eddie Munson." Steve said into the mic, not having to fake his enthusiasm as he clapped this time. "And after that amazing set, next up we have Tammy Thompson."

Steve went back to the bar, wincing at how this next singer sounded. She'd performed several times at previous open mic nights, giving Steve an in joke about her sounding like a Muppet with Robin.

He started serving drinks again, noticing how the bar had emptied significantly, most of the regulars heading out to smoke for a few minutes to save their sanity, Steve just wished he could join them.

"What can I get to make this sound better?" A voice asked.

Steve turned quickly to see Eddie, and it took him a moment to get his brain to formulate the words needed to respond. "Legally, I don't think I'm allowed to sell something that strong."

Eddie laughed at that, his laugh as breathtaking as his singing voice. "In that case, I'll just take a PBR."

"Sure." Steve grabbed the beer. "Anything else I could get for you?"

"Your number, maybe?"

Steve's eyes widened for a second as he blushed a deep pink. He scrambled for a pen and a napkin, scribbling down the number as neatly as he could. "Here. Maybe we could get a drink some time?"

They both winced as a particularly pitchy note came through the speakers. "Just not when it's another open mic night."

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #pre steddie #steddieholidaydrabbles #open mic night #stranger things #atimeofyourwrites

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sanjoongie · 10 months

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Dual Courtship: Heart in your throat

A Sci-Fi Medley Chapter~

The Cast~

Yeosang, Jongho- Predators Yunho, San, Mingi- Furyans Hongjoong, Wooyoung- Alien (Hunter status) Seonghwa- Alien (Queen status) Ot8 x captain/pilot! Reader

ღPairing: Choi Jongho x Reader (f) x Kang Yeosang ღGenre/Au/Trope: sci fi au, aliens au, predator au, riddick au, established relationship trope, poly trope ღWord Count: 3,034 ღWarnings: Warnings: cnc(consensual non-consent), predator/prey play (no pun intended ><), double penetration (two cocks one puss), fingering (f receiving), slight mxm, marking (blood, claws digging into flesh), fear kink, sub! Reader, doms! Jongho and Yeosang, penetrative sex with no protection, aftercare (for both the sex and the wounds), creampie ღRated: 18+ MDNI, smut with no plot ღSynopsis: the predators version of flirting/foreplay with their beloved captain is to hunt her and fuck her. This is what precedes their decision ;) ღDedication: @downtoamagicalland & @mejuii who will always read the crazy shit that comes from my head, the perfect beta readers ღA/N: I blame haru @stardragongalaxy once again for reviving this in my head. If you only knew the dirty sex scenes that have been planned. Please note: this scene takes place before Seonghwa lays his eggs

You felt as if you were being followed all day. It was a weird feeling to be nursing while you were on a ship, which had limited suspects, and on yours, which you knew every screw and plate of metal. But that didn’t take away from the fact that you were alone in the cockpit right now, and the darkness of space was not comforting as it usually was.

“San?” You called out cautiously.

San did enjoy sneaking into the cockpit with you when everyone else was sleeping. He would approach with a sly and coy smile and always managed to get what he wanted. Which usually contained either fucking your mouth while he was in the captain’s seat or fucking you while you were in the seat.

When nothing but silence met you, you attempted to shrug off the feeling of being watched.

You checked the star map for the umpteenth time but your course was still correct. You were flying outside the regular shipping routes, looking to stay below any other aliens' radar. You checked the local radars for any threat of another ship or meteor shower but it showed complete peace out in nearby space. So you could not credit your feeling of impending danger on that either.

Your instincts usually led you to the right conclusion so you were really confusing yourself. The ship creaked and a shiver ran straight down your spine. The ship creaked all the time but this sounded like stress from added weight in the vents. You were familiar with this sound because of how much Seonghwa, Hongjoong and Wooyoung frequented said vents.

You were about to mutter under your breath about living with aliens when you felt a presence behind you. You whirled around in your chair but there was nothing behind you but you swore you had felt a rush of air pass you.

“Ridiculous,” You cursed and got up from your seat after ensuring the ship was on autopilot. You were going to move to the mess hall and make yourself something warm to sip on.

However, while walking along the ship that you had begun to see as home with your found alien family, you didn’t feel any better. You swore you could hear brief susurrations above you, like someone was walking along the high upper railings when you moved through the cargo bay but the stray ropes and electric wires simply swayed with a small bump of the dual engines adjusting and maintaining balance.

Why were you getting so creeped out? Was it because you were so used to having one of the aliens that lived here near you at all times? Perhaps you should wake up Mingi to play cards with and help him win a hand finally…

You whipped around, swearing you felt a breath of air on your neck and this time you did seem to catch a foot on a pipe above before it disappeared.

Suddenly everything clicked. There had been a conversation a while ago, with all the races seated in various positions scattered before you in the mess hall. No aliens on this ship intended to harm you in any way, but they were aliens, and most of them were natural hunters. They needed to keep their instincts and talents sharpened and honed, and that included being approved to ‘hunt’ you. The perimeters included ‘struggling’ and ‘denying’ that you agreed to any of this. It thrilled the aliens and turned on a few, to seemingly take you while you were attempting to get away. You agreed with them, on all levels.

You straightened your shoulders and finished making your drink in the kitchen part of the mess hall. You gripped the cup and made your way back through the mess hall and then through the cargo bay. Once you were back in the smaller confines of the hallway, however, the kid gloves were off.

Yeosang, in his full Predator gear, dropped down in front of you, cloaking device clearly powered down already. Your instincts had you drawing your gun, treating this as if the Predator was a true threat. However, what you did not call for was that the Predators were hunting you as a pair. Jongho put a firm hand over yours, halting your gun from even being removed from your holster. You felt this rather than saw it because Jongho had not disabled his cloaking device.

“Got you,” Yeosang whispered into your ear. As your head turned, you watched him remove his helmet completely, drawn in by the slow reveal of the beautiful Predator.

“Let go of the gun,” Jongho ordered.

You allowed him to lead your hand away from your gun and pull your arm taunt behind your back, almost to the point of over extending it. Jongho didn’t want to break the mold quite yet, it seemed.

You had eyes only for Yeosang at this moment. You couldn't help yourself. The way his arm muscles bulged as he tucked his helmet under his arm was making your heart spike in rate.

“Are you more scared or turned on, little mouse?” Jongho asked, lips whispering along your trapezius, your neck muscles.

Yeosang laughed but it was definitely mocking. “Check how much of a mess her underwear is because of how scared she was.”

Jongho, after appearing visible to you finally, stuffed his hands down your pants mercilessly and you moaned when two fingers swiped along your inner folds. “She’s soaking wet,” Jongho announced.

Yeosang cuffed your chin, encouraging you to look up at him. “You’re a fun prey to stalk, moonlight.”

“You sensed us almost immediately,” Jongho said with a sense of pride. “Your instincts are worthy of a non-Predator mate.”

You whimpered as Jongho pushed his two fingers into you without further ado. Your pussy adapted immediately to the intrusion, genes long since changed to taking large appendages within your cunt from Seonghwa’s saliva absorbed through kisses.

Yeosang didn’t let you go, instead he confidently smirked before he brought his lips to yours. His lips ate up yours but whimpers continued to slip from your lips as Jongho finger-fucked you slowly.

“Like being taken advantage of in the middle of the hallway, don’t you, little mouse?” Jongho whispered to you seductively.

Your muffled noises of disagreement could be heard but that didn’t stop Yeosang from drifting his hand from cupping your head to running a claw along your collarbone. “Your quickening pulse is alluring, moonlight,” he said upon releasing your lips finally.

“Please--the ship!” Your protests sounded weak even to your ears, but that could have been because you felt very weak between the two Predators right now.

Yeosang lifted an eyebrow up at your statement. Jongho added a thumb to strum your clit while his fingers moved in and out of you and you were like putty in his arms. That caused Yeosang to frown. “Stop hogging the captain,” Yeosang growled.

Jongho chuckled. “Come and take her, then, brother.” The two often referred to each other as brothers-in-arms, shortened to brother when the timing called for it. The camaraderie the two had felt for each other while they had hunted you was clearly fading now.

Yeosang physically pulled you from Jongho’s grasp, pressing your back up against the cool metal of the ship. You gasped as your exposed shoulders in your tank top experienced the temperature play. Yeosang dived in to capture your lips once again, eating up your moans as he grinded into your now sensitive core, covered only by the thin material of your pants and underwear. “Why have fingers when you can have me?” Yeosang tempted you.

Jongho released another chuckle, folding his arms over his armored chest. His stance was wide, his thigh muscles adjusting under the fishnets covering them. “Why don’t we test just how well developed her genes are now? The scanner showed she’s changed quite a lot.”

“Wha--” You paused to swallow and brought moisture back to your mouth. “What exactly does that entail?”

Yeosang appeared intrigued as he stared back at Jongho. “Do you want us both to be stuffed within her sweet cunt?”

You cursed under your breath, not prepared for that at all. “What? Excuse me?”

“Come on, little mouse, you can take the both of us at the same time, right?” Jongho crooned convincingly.

You pressed your lips together. “I’ve never tried…but I want to.”

“Me first,” Yeosang announced. He licked and sucked your neck as he grinded into you some more, until he couldn't take your sweet moans any longer. He easily ripped your pants and underwear off, your tank top being ripped down the middle, to make you completely available for him. He pushed down his own armored loincloth and his girthy cock sprung free. He did his best to rub himself against your wet folds but once the tip of his cock flirted with your eager hole, he pushed right in.

“I’ll never get enough of this sweet cunt,” Yeosang grunted, already quickly moving in and out of you.

One of your legs curled around his waist instinctively, hips bucking to meet his thrusts. “You’re driving me wild, Moonlight,” Yeosang snarled.

Jongho patiently stood by as Yeosang had his fill but put a firm hand on Yeosang’s shoulder to stop him before he could release his seed inside of you. “Brother, it is time.” He dropped his loincloth to the floor, stepping neatly out of the confines.

Yeosang reluctantly pulled out of you and you spared a brain cell to wonder if they had already made plans for this before Yeosang took a stance behind you and Jongho in front of you now. “Hello again, little mouse.”

“Jongho,” You couldn't help but pout at the loss of Yeosang inside of you.

“Did Yeosang stretch you out enough for me?” Now Jongho was smirking.

“How about you focus less on my dick and more on your own,” Yeosang suggested.

Jongho placed his taloned hands around your waist and helped you hop up so that you could wrap your legs around his waist. Your slippery cunt rubbed up against his straining cock. The both of you groaned at the feeling but now was not the time to indulge. You had already been stretched out by Jongho’s fingers and Yeosang’s cock, but you still enjoyed the delicious stretch it was to take Jongho’s cock inside of you. You made pleased noises and Jongho’s gummy smile came out to play. “You always make the best noises for me, little mouse.”

Once Jongho was fully seated inside of you, Yeosang kissed your shoulder. “Get ready, moonlight.”

Jongho kissed you in distraction, sucking on your lower lip, even so much as pulling it gently with his teeth and growling. Yeosang angled his cock from behind you, prodding your hole and you moaned into Jongho’s mouth when Yeosang slowly entered you.

“Just a little bit more, you can do it,” Yeosang encouraged. He didn’t sound any better, his voice tight and high.

When the two of them were deep inside of you, everyone was breathing heavily. Your mind was simply white noise, adjusting and simply drinking in the feeling of both of the Predator’s cocks within your cunt.

“Ready for some movement, little mouse?” Jongho asked, your head having fallen on his shoulder and he kissed the crown of your head.

“Please,” you whimpered and then there were truly no thoughts in your head.

Jongho moved slowly whereas Yeosang’s thrusts were quick. They moved in the opposite rhythm of each other, somehow in sync with each other. You could hear the pathetic mewls leaving your mouth but you found that you couldn't care less about how you sounded. The two cocks fucking you felt so good, you were almost sure you were being spoiled, and one cock might not do moving forward.

“So good,” You whimpered, causing both Predator’s to chuckle a chuckle only men have when a woman is weak for them. “Wanna come. Will you come inside of me? Both of you?”

“Mark her first, then we can come inside of her,” Yeosang commanded.

Jongho stared at you adoringly. “Little mouse, these are badges of honor. We respect your instincts, courage and most importantly, your ability to bring all our races together. It will hurt for a bit and we will have to be gentle with you while they heal, but I hope you wear them with pride, my mate.”

You nodded, bracing for the pain of being marked. Yeosang cupped one side of your waist, Jongho the other, as their opposite hands prepared to cut you with their talons. Jongho’s carefully sliced your breast, the long claw marks moving from your side and under your boob. Yeosang claw marks drew up and around your shoulder, deep only enough for a scar but not as deep to cause any permanent harm. You winced and cried out but the pain was soon washed away as Yeosang bucked up into your heat.

“It’ll be okay, little mouse,” Jongho assured you, holding still while Yeosang set his pace.

“It hurts,” You whimpered but Yeosang kissed up your neck as a distraction this time.

Jongho was soon moving inside of you and you moaned in bliss. Yeosang was playing with your pussy, pulling out completely and then pushing back in, making your pussy accommodate both girths over and over again. Jongho was the constant inside of you, thrusts remaining deep inside but due to this, he was closer to coming first.

“Fuck,” Jongho cursed, biting down on his lip.

Yeosang laughed in derision. “Gonna come already, Jongho?”

“Shut up,” Jongho snapped, eyes closed as he attempted to pace himself.

“Is it because our captain’s tight little heat is so good or do you enjoy my cock sliding along yours inside of her?” Yeosang teased his fellow Predator.

“Shut the hell up, Yeosang, and fuck our captain’s pretty pussy,” Jongho snarled.

You had slipped so deep into your headspace, being stretched so deliciously with two cocks, that their conversation was simply passing over your head. You groaned lowly, some spit dripping from the corner of your mouth, head lolling slightly like a ragdoll.

Yeosang smirked and continued to play with you and seemingly Jongho as well. His dick stayed inside you, thrusts pushing against Jongho’s cock and thus your g-spot. Jongho and you were a moaning wreck soon enough, Jongho’s milky cum mingling with your own as your toes curled and your back arched. Yeosang came next, placing his hands on your ass and spreading your cheeks. You could feel all their cum dripping down their cocks and out of your hole, leaving a puddle on the ship’s floor.

"Am I interrupting?" A voice cut through your orgasm-induced brain.

"You are," Jongho murmured.

Yunho said dryly, "Well, perhaps you would consider having your rituals not in the middle of the hallway." He walked around you three, arms behind his back.

“Didn’t anyone ever warn you it’s not a good idea to pass by a Predator when their back is turned to you,” Yeosang snarled.

“You’re not threatened by my presence…are you?” Yunho couldn't help but poke.

Slowly, both Predators adjusted until Jongho had you in his arms, careful of both your shoulder and your breast. His large arms were more than ample coverage to hide your nakedness, at least for your sake. Yeosang’s stance was one that was battle ready. You opened your mouth to halt Yeosang but Yunho was already on top of it.

“I am jesting,” Yunho laughed, “I am no threat. I will simply pilot the ship until our captain has recovered.”

Yunho walked down the hallway, taking the same path that you had been working on with your drink, long since dropped and spilled.

Yeosang turned to Jongho, with a quizzical look on his face. “That’s not like a Furyan to turn down a fight--or a fuck.”

Jongho ran a finger down your cheek tenderly, “I think our captain has changed us all, Brother.”

The two Predators took you to their quarters, quickly ripping their bedding from their bunks and gathering it together so that all three of you could rest together. A wet cloth was given to you to wipe away any access cum but they both supervised to make sure you did not wipe more than necessary to be clean.

While Yeosang discarded his armor, Jongho pulled a bottle that looked to be self-made. “This is a remedy we make on our homeworld,” Jongho explained, motioning for you to lean over so that he may dress your shoulder wound first. “First, you make the bottle from a beloved hound's skin and then the tree that sacrificed its sap for you. You sew the bark and skin together. The mixture is the sap of a tree known for both its healing properties and for its sticky factor. We introduce some nanos that also speed the healing. It’s only made for brief wounds, or marks we would like to keep from a battle.”

You watched for a moment, enamored with the blue-green glowing fluid as Jongho spilled some onto his finger to apply to the claw marks. Jongho pursed his lips sympathetically when you winced but he promised you would feel better come morning.

Yeosang had removed his armor and was about to take off some of the netting when you halted him. “Keep that on?” You asked shyly.

Yeosang smirked, ducking his head and allowing his hair to fall in his face. “Anything for you, Moonlight.”

Once Jongho had removed his armor as well, you laid on your back on the makeshift bed, Jongho and Yeosang turned on their sides to gaze at you. You were already slumbering, moving to a deep sleep to heal your body.

“She did well today,” Jongho said, pride in his voice once again.

“She took her marks and our cocks like a proper mate should,” Yeosang agreed. “You still never answered my question, however, brother.”

Jongho sighed loudly but ultimately admitted what Yeosang already knew to be true. “I enjoyed the slip of your cock against mine.”

“Good,” was all that Yeosang said and promptly fell asleep.

“You bastard,” Jongho cursed but followed suit.

All Posts | A Manic Queen

Taglist: @hijirikaww @flurrys-creativity @mingsolo @starlitmark @k-pop-ology @pyeonghongrie

#pirateeznet #cultofdionysusnet #mfu-net #ateez smut #choi jongho smut #kang yeosang smut #sci-fi medley #ღatz #topaz's work #atz smut #jongho smut #yeosang smut #haru🌠#ateez x reader #choi jongho x reader #kang yeosang x reader

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dev1lm4n · 1 year

Text

coward

pairings: jackson-era!joel miller x f!reader

summary: in which joel wanted to stake claim over you, but he's too much of a coward to do so. aka jealous emotionally pent-up joel

word count: 3.5k

warnings: suggestive, not explicit just mentions of sexual relationships

notes: this was ultimately cliché as shit but i NEED to write it

Clank. Clank.

Sunset has fallen upon the town just mere minutes ago. Gleeful chirping of the local birds were quickly replaced by a chorus of cicadas, loud clattering of metal cutleries, and scratchy scrapes against plates. There was a foreign atmosphere settling between tonight’s dinner participants and to be honest, it’s much weirder than you anticipated.

It’s foreboding; alike to those family dinners you’d attend to exchange bland pleasantries with cousins and nephews. The kind where you’d have to swerve from uncomfortable questions probing into your personal life, whether it’s your marital status or your paycheck. Except there wasn’t that much of a crowd tonight. Just you, your ‘date’, and Joel Miller.

Joel Miller was someone you couldn’t label properly.

You weren’t exaggerating in the slightest bit when it comes to your complex relationship with him, if you could even call what you had with him a relationship to begin with.

It’s just too messy and embarrassing. It’s like trying to pick apart a tangled up ball of yarn, hoping you’d figure out when things began and when it ended.

Has it even ended? The particular question had you mindlessly stabbing the roasted chicken you managed to cook up. It’s a little overcooked and mildly underseasoned, but it’s better than the alternative. Joel’s staple, which was heated up cans of Chef Boyardee’s Beefaroni, had always been reserved for those who’d acquired his unique tastes. You and Ellie were his number one frequenter when it comes to it.

Joel looked displeased by the pleasantries. His nose crinkled briefly, but he played along regardless. “I go on patrols most of the time, but I could fix things too here and there.”

“So.. Joel, right? What do you do ‘round Jackson?”

Jack managed to break up the everlasting silence with his low-register voice. You assumed that despite the initial awkwardness, he had at least enjoyed the food, considering the heaping glob of mashed potatoes he’s adding onto his plate.

“Oh. That’s nice. I’ve never gone on a patrol before,” Jack shared briefly, only to beam a shy smile towards you. He’s a cute boy you won’t lie. Maybe that’s why you scouted him off the bar last week. “I take care of the horses with her.”

“Jack’s also from Texas, you know. Thought you two would get along,” you opined.

You watched the cocky raise of eyebrows Joel did and the half-smile following after. He’s silently judging the excuse of a man you’ve brought home tonight, that or he’s just not in the mood for a late night chat after such a troublesome day.

Joel had always been an incredibly difficult man to read. You still think you could read a horse better than him. You’ve gotten better at it throughout the years you’ve spent alongside him, especially after the trip around America for Ellie’s sake, but it’s still a hit or miss most times. It almost felt like he kept changing the numbers to the safe. Just when you thought you’ve cracked the code, he’ll have you come right back to square one.

Joel’s mouth twitched at your silly little assumption, his face contorted as if asking you if you’re for real. You shrugged, amused in a sense. It’d be good for him to start making actual friends, right? Right now his circle was a limited bunch with you being the only non-family acquaintance. His social skills were something you and Tommy are both working on these days. Plus, Jack’s easy on the eyes, so it’s two birds in one stone.

“I see you still have a thing for Texas boys, hm?”

Joel teased you, this time not even bothering to flash you one of his degrading glares. He pretended like he’s really into the colorful medley of roasted root vegetables you’ve roasted, when you know for a fact he hated any kind of greens. He’d only pretend to like it when Ellie’s around, preaching around about its importance. You realized that you’re getting sidetracked from the real offense he’s just given. A jab of jealousy you’d say.

What kind of game is he playing? Was it another one of his ‘push guys away from you because all men are shit and you’d get hurt’ game? Jack was such a sweetheart, he didn’t even catch on to Joel’s implications, instead he settled on laughing alongside your awkward chuckles.

“Friends?”

“How long have you two been friends?”

Jack’s eyes sparked with curiosity, looking like he’s genuinely in awe of the fond illusion you two must’ve convinced him with.

Joel grinned, a corner of his full mouth lifted at the thought. He almost looked pleased at the premise.

“Two years,” you chimed in for a quick save.

“Man, I thought you two were together,” Jack confessed, salad dressing smeared lightly on his top lip. “Can’t say I ain’t happy when she came sizing me up for a date.”

Your gaze cruised back towards Jack, fluttering a sweet smile his way in case he finally caught up to Joel’s inappropriateness. All you saw was just an innocent look of acknowledgement. His cheeks brightened and swept by a soft wave of pink when he noticed you looking his way, appearing to be thrilled that you spared him a chunk of your attention.

Such a sweetheart. It wouldn’t be so bad if you actually got serious with him; move into a small cottage house, raise chickens and sheeps. Then you could finally bask in stability and mutual understanding. The two things you’re currently lacking.

A silent beat passed at his words.

You humored him with an obscure chuckle, but it was painfully obvious how the atmosphere dimmed and crumpled ever so slightly around the edges. It’s not the first time the two of you were mistaken as a couple by other villagers, even Tommy and his wife were dead set convinced the first time you sauntered in with him. The months spent on the road with Ellie and him were life changing to say the least and you’d like to think the two of you were bonded by such traumatic events. He needed a purpose, you needed refuge. It’s always been like that from the start.

There wasn’t even a tinge of romance to humor. Once in the past, you made the mistake of giving in to your ‘delusions’. You wondered whether the silent brief touches he made whenever he walked beside you meant something more. You wondered whether the way he reacted exaggeratedly when you prick your fingers on a rotten door frame meant that he cared. You wondered whether the confessions he made while you were curled up, riding out a fever from a stab wound meant that he wanted you. Those pathetic flourishing feelings were stomped by the heavy soles of his boots the one time you asked.

You could still remember vividly the terrible things he said and the way you sobbed your heart out at that. Thinking back, you’d understand why he said what he said. It was wrong of you to humor such thoughts.

Jack hummed fondly into his handkerchief, neatly cleaning up his fresh shaven complexion that always seemed to make him look a few years younger than what he truly is. He’s more of your age, something you took into account when he came up in your radar. That must mean he’s more suitable for you, right? Unlike Joel who’s reeling into his late fifties; who’s probably too old for all the ‘childish’ shit you put him through. Jack’s also kind and considerate. He went out of his way to get you a basket of fresh apples when you’re sweating bullets trying to catch a loose mare. He never scowled or snapped at you. He’s good for you.

“No. We’re just really good friends,” Joel spoke up firmly into the warm summer air.

It looked like he’s finished with his meal, assuming from how squeaky clean his plate has gotten. Good that he’s filling up. You’ve always liked guys with a little more pudge to them. Not that it mattered. You two were just really good friends as he put it.

“I don’t think I can stay friends with a gal so pretty,” Jack chimed in flirtatiously, a charming smile etched its way across his lips.

You smiled in return, making sure to count to three before letting your eyes wander back to where Joel was sitting. It might be wrong for you to be searching for another man’s reaction when you’re here having sweet Jack as your date. What was certainly wrong was how your stomach finally rumbled with nervous butterflies when you saw his expression. When you saw the small itch disrupting his collected expression; setting his lips into an unimpressed thin line, a small vein prominent on his neck.

God, you wish you could capture the moment on camera.

The rest of the evening went by civilly; you’d expect your really good friend to rip Jack’s head right off when he kept making those stupid flirtatious jokes. Joel looked like he was trying his best to stay grounded and rational, but it's no secret he's holding back a dirty scowl. You caught the way he stuck his tongue onto his inner cheek, or the way he scrutinized each and every joke your date made. Forcing him to explain it thoroughly and embarrassing him in the process; you know he’s an ass, but tonight he’s really testing your limits.

You’d imagine he’d have an excuse as to why he’s behaving this way, like how your veggies tasted weirdly bland he couldn’t hold back his face. It’s unbelievably silly how he thought you’d believe such things at your grown age. That’s another thing to deal with.

At the moment, you just needed to focus on bidding Jack a sweet goodbye. His smooth blond hair glimmered underneath the moonlight as he leaned in for a kiss. One you didn’t expect quite yet, but you didn’t have the heart to push him away. He’s been a good company after all.

As you expected, it didn’t feel right. His lips were soft and tasted like fresh oranges, but it didn’t feel right. Was it a mistake to keep him at bay when you’re still unable to let go of your peculiar crush? Probably. You were deep in thought as you pulled the front door closed. A gust of wind blowing over your shoulder while you let the guilt marinate into every inch of your skin.

You felt icky.

“I don’t like him.”

Joel’s disdain traveled quickly along the walls, down the hallway, and onto the exact spot where you’re standing. You turned on your heel to face him, your lips drew back in a snarl. After everything you went through tonight, all the pillow cushioning so that Jake doesn’t feel all the more offended by his audacity, and you’re rewarded with this? You expected him to do one thing and he couldn’t even make it right.

“Yeah?” you piped up, eager to rile him up. “Well, I like him a lot.”

He’s used to listening to your childish preambles. It didn’t take him long to learn how much fun you have just by disobeying his rules, going through with whatever your heart desires, even when it poses a great danger to your own safety. You’re always tricky to deal with, but it’s the only thing that keeps his heart pounding at his old age. The only thing that made him feel alive, thawed after years of surviving. Maybe that’s why he still persisted in keeping you around.

“I’m serious, sweetheart. He sounded like bad news.”

Fucking sweetheart? You scoffed, sounding offended. He would always use that nickname whenever he’s trying to get something through your thick head, whether it’s to stop you from jumping head first into a pond or in this case, to stop you from making rash decisions. He knew what he does to you. He knew that you’d always listen, but not tonight.

“If you spend just one second of your precious time listening to what he has to say, you might actually see what I see,” you glowered. “You were fucking with him the entire time.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You were looking down at him, Joel. You always do that. Think everyone’s beneath you.”

“I wasn’t. He’s just a little.. well, flimsy for you.”

“Oh fuck off. You don’t know a thing about me.”

That was a complete lie. He knew more things about you than you’d like, like the way you like your coffee in the morning and which horses were your favorite.

“I don’t?”

“You don’t.”

You solidified your answer, trudging your way past his shoulders like some agitated teenager. Joel thought you looked cute upset and maybe that’s sick of him, but he couldn’t help but be entertained at the way your lips jutted out in disagreement. You’re like this young new thing he’s obsessed with.

“Okay, okay. Come here. Don’t be upset at me. Jake is a nice boy.. I guess,” he gave in to the commotion you made, although he still felt somewhat bitter.

Jake’s not that much different from what he’s like when he’s younger. Way before his kid, his botched marriage, and the apocalypse. When he’s twenty with a vision for life. It vexed him to admit that he was truly a good man for you. That the man you chose for once wasn’t a scheming jackass. “He worked with horses?”

“Yeah,” you gave in, flashing him the look. The one where you’re further emphasizing that you’re certain with your decisions, that you don’t need him guiding you towards what’s wrong and right like he always has. “He’s good with the horses.. and with me too. Gave me apples when it’s in season.”

Joel’s dark eyebrows curved at your statement. His arms lifted further up to rest against the thin of his waist, a judgemental stance in action. Did you think things like that were peak romance? What about all the times he personally executed all those clickers lurking over you? Whether it’s with a gun or a knife, he’s sure that he’d top Jack when it comes to things he did for you.

“Well then I’m happy for you,” he concluded with a curt nod, doing the one thing you didn’t expect him to do. You scrutinized his expression in response.

“You’re happy for me?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m gonna go on a date with him.”

“Go ahead.”

“I’m gonna get him to kiss me again.”

“Wow. Sounds fun.”

“I’m gonna get him to fuck me so hard you could hear me in your stupid room, Joel.”

That one surely struck a nerve deep within him, judging from the way his lips contorted in disbelief. You’ve never been so.. vulgar in front of him. Not once have you mentioned anything about your sexual desires in front of him and so he thought you didn’t even know those kinds of things existed despite your big age.

Maybe you’re untouched by the twisted world you’re living in. He assumed you were this sweet girl with an innocent crush on him, eyes twinkling with admiration everytime he walked in a room. He loved the attention, shamefully so, and he’d love to savor it as long as possible. Even when it felt wrong. He didn’t think it was possible for you to look at another in that manner. The thought had him marching towards you, large figure towering over.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, sweetheart.”

“Why not?” you challenged him.

“Because you’re doing this for attention.”

“I’m not,” you struggle to keep the act upright.

“Look me in the eye and tell me you actually like him. Tell me you like that silly boy.”

You gaped at his request. Adam’s apple bobbing reluctantly as you gathered every last bit of your plummeting confidence to look up into his eyes. They were arrogant; browns peering down at you like he’s just delighted to domineer, to reassert the magnitude of his influence towards you. He caged you in with merely a look.

This spited you. He’s always been like this. Give you some room to explore so that you don’t feel trapped with him, but he’d always give a little tug to your leash whenever you forget your position. You were his, before he was yours. That was rule number one.

“I like him,” you repeated yourself, bracing for the onslaught of tsunami he might release at your stubbornness. “He’s kind and sweet and lovely and.. and he has the balls to tell me how he felt about me.”

His expression of disapproval seared through your skin, leaving you raw and vulnerable to whatever it is he’s going to say right back at you. You could tell that he was livid, although he's clearly trying his best to be the better man out of the two of you and stay grounded.

He knew what you're like. He knew that you're riling him up so that he'd cave in to your requests, because God was it terribly hard to stay put when you're looking at him like that. Round pupils bared into his own. Joel felt the revolting urge to soothe your worries, to utter meaningless words of assurance, to validate the bond he's been trying his best to suspend. His desire festered like it was contagious, blurring the line of boundaries.

“If this is about last week, you know my answers remained unchanged.”

"Why?"

You sounded hopeless and it's clawing at his skin.

"It's unfair to you."

"You know what's unfair, Joel? Acting like you gave a damn, then shutting me out of your life like I meant nothing."

You scoffed. You weren't just desperate for an answer now, no, you were furious. Angry that he thought he could make the decisions for you, that he could be the one to determine which things were right and wrong for you when he knew for a fact that you're a grown woman with your own mind to rely on. Angry that he'd put his self worth in the gutter. Angry that he thought you'd judge him even after the things you've been through together; endless drives through the motherland, camping under a sea of stars, dancing with death itself.

Was it that bizarre of an idea? You plucked up the courage to get even closer. The frilly yellow ruffles of your sundress grazing his crossed forearm.

You poked an accusing finger into his chest.

"Drowning yourself in your pathetic pity party because oh, you're so broken. So undeserving of love."

Your furrowed eyebrows drove him insane.

"Yet you still keep me around. Couldn’t push me away because God knows you need me more than you'd like."

Your labored breath teased the column of his neck.

"That's what's unfair. The fucking waiting. The dancing around. Put me out of my misery, Joel."

He didn't know what to say. Silenced for once.

"Look me in the eye and tell me you don't want me."

You dared him, just like how he dared you. Joel felt conflicted. His vision glued onto the tips of his worn down leather boots as if it’d provide some kind of answer to your demands, He inhaled sharply, before letting out a shaky sigh. Afraid that he’d promise you something he couldn’t own up to, especially since his sharp edges are now dulled from age.

Joel couldn’t be selfish. No, he couldn’t be that person any longer when he has one foot in the grave.

He knew his end was approaching.

Subtly, but surely. His heart tightened sporadically every time he’d run a little too fast. His joints were stiff and useless, enough that Tommy threatened to pull him off patrols if he kept pushing at his pace. He recalled the incident from his last trip. How he barely escaped a loose infected because his senses had dampened. Your voice also seemed to become more and more faint; he couldn’t even hear the list of items you’ve burdened him with on a shopping trip. Whether you needed a jar of raisins or a pair of shears.

Claiming you was selfish.

He decided on that awhile ago. Far before you’ve realized your infatuation with him, far before you offer such a sweet proposition.

“Come back to me when you stop being a fucking coward, Joel.”

His throat grew parched at the buzzing silence. He willed himself to touch you, even when it burned his finger tips and sizzled the tip of his ears red. You looked furious, but that cute expression faltered in a miniscule of a second when he cupped the side of your cheek. His thumb stroked agonizingly slow as if you'd evaporate into thin air if he was too brash.

He'd always thought you’re beautiful. One of a kind. Whether it’s when you’re drooling embarrassingly or when you’re dressed up for the commune’s party. But you look the most unbelievable when you’re worried for him.

Was that selfish of him? He traced over your bottom lip gently, feeling the plush material underneath. How he longed to press his lips onto yours. Would it taste sweet? Would you feel soft? His bottom lip quivered, unable to form an answer.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller tlou #tlou #joel miller #the last of us #the last of us fic #the last of us imagine

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