#Patch Jackson reader insert

[linaaaa3]

Love Me Like You Mean It

1988

Pairing: Michael Jackson x fem!reader

Synopsis: Michael has been acting off, and you can’t seem to find why.

Tags: Confusion, Anger, Love, forgetful

TW: Arguing, anticipation, angst, Makeup Sex, and other sexual orientation

Word count: 2k+

Authors note: when the smut scene comes on listen to ‘Sweet Love’ By 112 ♥︎♥︎

You recline on the plush living room floor, surrounded by a couple of soft, cozy pillows that cradle your head and shoulders. The sunlight streams through the large window, casting warm patches of light across the room, but it can't quite chase away the feeling of emptiness that lingers in the air. It's been three long days since your husband, Michael, left, and the silence of the house feels like a heavy blanket over your heart.

You miss the warmth of his presence—the way he would laugh at your jokes or the way his touch could instantly ease your worries. As you lay there, staring at the ceiling, your mind races with thoughts of him, wondering where he might be and when he’ll be back. The emptiness of the room echoes your longing, and you find yourself hoping that he realizes how much you miss him and the comfort of your shared home.

You shift your weight ever so slightly, feeling the old wooden boards creak softly beneath you. Propped on your arms, you gaze up at the VCR player and the flickering television screen, both relics of a time that feels distant yet achingly close. With a sigh, you sit up and start sifting through the haphazard stack of VCR tapes that lie scattered around you. As your fingers brush over the worn labels, your heart unexpectedly stutters when they land on one in particular— the tape from the day you married Michael four years ago.

A wave of bittersweet memories floods your mind. Just two days ago, you had marked your anniversary, a milestone that felt significant and meaningful, but instead, it had turned into a day of solitude. Michael had missed it, his absence heavy in the air like a dense fog that refused to lift. The tears you had shed throughout that long, heart-wrenching day suddenly resurface, and you feel the familiar ache in your chest as you remember the laughter and joy of your wedding day, now overshadowed by the pain of his absence.

You press the power button on the television, and after a moment of anticipation, the screen flickers to life, revealing a vibrant blue glow that momentarily fills the room. With a gentle click, you insert the tape into the VCR, feeling the smooth surface of the cassette beneath your fingers. As you settle back on the floor, the excitement builds within you, and you focus your gaze on the screen.

As the screen illuminated, you found yourself gazing at a vivid scene of your wedding day. You were gracefully gliding down the aisle, the soft fabric of your wedding dress flowing around you. The dress shimmered under the soft light, intricate lace details glinting as you moved. Your heart swelled with emotion as you caught sight of Michael standing at the altar, clad in a sharp suit that complemented the day's elegance. His bright smile radiated pure joy, lighting up his face and reflecting the love he felt in that moment. The air was filled with a mix of floral scents and the soft murmur of guests, all eyes on you as you approached, each step echoing the excitement and anticipation of this unforgettable occasion.

As the evening settled in and the last rays of the sun disappeared behind the horizon, you found yourself lying on the bed, wrapped in a cocoon of sorrow. The room was dimly lit, shadows flickering on the walls as your emotions surged within you. Tears streamed down your cheeks, and you clutched your pillow tightly, trying to stifle the sobs that threatened to escape.

Feelings of anger and frustration coursed through you, directed not only at Michael but also at yourself. You couldn't help but feel a deep-seated resentment for allowing him to treat you this way. It was as if a heavy weight was pressing down on your chest; every sigh filled with disappointment echoed the truth that he had been neglecting his role as a husband.

Instead of being by your side, offering companionship and support, he was lost in the world of his studio, choosing to pour his energy and time into his work rather than nurturing the relationship you both once cherished. The sense of abandonment stung painfully, and all you desired was to scream out your frustrations and cry until you could cry no more. Yet, the reality of the situation left you feeling helpless, trapped in a cycle of longing and loneliness, unable to change the course of your life as you had once envisioned it.

You lay in bed, the darkness swallowing you whole as silent tears streamed down your cheeks. The soft fabric of the sheets clung to you, a poor substitute for the warmth and comfort you longed for that could only come from Michael’s embrace. The emptiness beside you felt suffocating, a stark reminder of his absence.

With a heavy heart, you reached for the telephone, your fingers tremoring as you dialed the number of the studio where he was working late. Each ring intensified the knot in your stomach, a blend of hope and despair as you fought to keep your emotions in check. Finally, a voice broke through the line.

“Hello,” you managed to say, masking the tremor of sadness lurking beneath your words.

“Yes?” came the crisp reply from a woman on the other end.

“It’s Y/N. I was hoping you could connect me with Michael,” you said, tapping your foot anxiously against the hardwood floor, the rhythmic thumping barely registering amidst the tumult of your thoughts.

“Uh, sorry Mrs. Jackson, but Mr. Jackson isn’t accepting calls at the moment,” the lady responded, her tone polite but firm. At that moment, a surge of anger ignited within you, boiling up like a volcano ready to erupt.

“Alright, thank you,” you replied through clenched teeth, your voice strained as the frustration bubbled over. Can't answer the phone for your damn wife!

With a fierce slam, you placed the receiver down, the loud noise echoing in the quiet room. “DAMN IT!” you yelled, letting your rage and sadness collide in a cathartic release, feeling more alone than ever.

—

Hours had slipped away since you placed the call to the studio, every moment stretching like an eternity. Lying on the bed, you stared at the ceiling, your thoughts swirling in a fog of uncertainty and despair. The dim light filtered in through the curtains, casting soft shadows that mirrored the heaviness in your heart. Your face, streaked with tears, felt cool against the warmth of the blankets, each droplet a silent testament to the turmoil inside.

The metallic jangle of keys echoed through the hallway, followed by the creaking sound of the front door swinging open. You felt a surge of adrenaline as you stood up, your heart racing with anticipation. As you made your way to the entrance, the tension mounted within you. There he stood—Michael—his expression unreadable. Anger bubbled to the surface, threatening to spill over. “Michael, what the fuck!” you shouted, your voice filled with frustration and disbelief.

“Please, not now. I’m really tired,” he said with a weariness in his voice as he attempted to turn and walk away. But you couldn’t let him go that easily; you reached out and grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks. “Don’t walk away from me!” you urged, your eyes locking onto his. You could see his curls tousled and unruly, framing his face, giving him an air of frustrated vulnerability.

You sank into the worn upholstery of the couch, your gaze fixed on the floor, the weight of disappointment heavy in the air. “You missed our anniversary,” you said, your voice trembling with frustration. “You disappear for three days, and when you finally stroll back in, all you can say is that you’re tired? Damn it, Michael, do you even care about me? I’m your wife for God’s sake!” The words spilled out, each one laced with hurt and desperation, echoing in the silence that surrounded you.

“I'm sorry,” he spoke softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve just been in the studio, trying to wrap up the album—” but you couldn’t let him finish.

“Michael, do you even hear yourself?” you interrupted, the panic rising in your chest. “What about me?” Your voice trembled, and as the words left your lips, the tears began to stream down your cheeks. “Michael, you’ve been pouring all your energy into your music, and while you’re lost in there, it’s as if I don’t even exist anymore.”

The weight of your emotions crashed over you like a wave, and you found yourself sobbing uncontrollably. “Do you even love me anymore?” you gasped, the hurt in your heart echoing in the silence that followed.

His expression shifted into a pained mask, eyes glistening with unshed tears as he approached you. “I’m sorry, and I do love you~..” he whispered, his voice trembling slightly. With a gentleness that belied his size, he carefully cupped your face in his large, warm hand, tilting it upward to meet his gaze. As the tears spilled down his cheeks, he drew you into a tight embrace, the weight of his sorrow enveloping you both.

As tears streamed down your cheeks, you buried your face into the warmth of his neck, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your touch. With a gentle yet powerful grip, he lifted you effortlessly by your thighs, your body instinctively responding as you wrapped your legs around him, feeling safe and secure. He carried you to the bedroom, his steps confident and steady, while he gracefully nudged the door closed with his foot, enveloping you both in a cocoon of intimacy.

He sets you on the bed gets between your legs, and then kisses your neck with affection. He kicks his shoes off and takes his red button-up off. He looks you in the eyes biting his lip. He pulls off his clothes letting them hit the floor. He leans close and lips latch onto your neck, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin.

“Michael..” you moan and he pulls your shorts off, you wiggle your legs making them fall to the floor. You pull your top off freeing your breasts making your nipples hard in the cool air. Michael rips your panties away and you gasp, he grips your thighs scooting you close to his cock. His cock was thick and heavy, bobbing between his legs as he moves, it brushes over your slit, and you moan from the contact but it's not enough.

“Michael, please” you beg, wanting more than what he was giving you.

He looks at you with dark bedroom eyes, “Be quiet you were just crying like a baby, now since you want something so bad Im giving it to you” he spanks your ass and you let out a gasp biting your lip, he leans close to your ear, “Don't be greedy” he said lowly in your ear.

He pressed his soft lips upon your skin atop your cleavage, he sticks his tongue out running it down between your breasts sucking, and you felt tingles in your spine, becoming wet and soaked just for him.

You couldn't believe how easily you gave in to him, he was irresistible. Yours. Your man.

He sucked your right breast and popped your nipple in his mouth swiftly making you squirm. You moaned looking at him as he kept direct eye contact while he sucked your hard nub. He pushed down taking more of your breast in his mouth, and you moaned louder.

He then pulled away a string of his saliva connecting to your nipple. He rubbed your clit, watching you face as you feel immense pleasure. He sucks your other breast showing it the same love.

Your face was a dark crimson while you were getting close to release. He then stopped, and you furrowed your eyebrows. “Michael, why did you stop” you whined. “Because I wanted to,” he said raspily and grabbed his cock putting his soft pink tip at your drenched hole and pushing in a little. You moan and you put your hand on his hips wanting more.

“What did I just tell you about being greedy? Hmm.” he rams into you hard and the air from your lungs parishes and a few seconds later you take a deep breath but he starts moving fast not giving you enough time to let you recover. You look at his face a slight smirk on his lips.

He goes in and out, pushing your legs open and on your stomach hitting that sweet spot he knows by heart. You let out small moans with your mouth open with small gasps.

He snaps his hips faster moaning feeling you tighten around his cock, “Fuck! Baby” he moaned, sexily biting his lip, and his curls fell over his head dripping sweat, and a droplet landed on your chest.

You were a moaning mess. He leaned down catching your lips in a heated kiss, making his strokes short and hard making the bed rattle. You were reaching your peak, and it was about to hit you hard.

“Cum for me baby” he murmured his voice croaked softly as You felt him spill his seed into you and you felt your eyes roll back and your abdomen coil and you milk him good. He slowed his thrusts and looked at you with lidded eyes.

You felt his warm cum leaking out of you. He came to your ear. “Happy Anniversary” he kisses your cheek wrapping his arms around your hot sweaty body.

#linaaaa3

I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOYED!!!!!♥︎

Ignore any mistakes, also I'm taking requests!!♥︎💖

[hihomeghere]

Hihomeghere Masterlist

I have a new masterlist! Check it out here!

Prompt list

The Umbrella Academy

Diego Hargreeves

Nightwing You try to keep Diego Hargreeves off your mind, especially after your break up. But after he breaks into your apartment begging you to patch him up. All the good and bad memories come flooding back.

Five Hargreeves

Wedding at the End of the World A reader insert for the episode Wedding at the End of the World. You and Five reminisce on your wedding/proposal before going to Luther and Sloanes wedding. You both go to the wedding with high hopes of a good evening.

Carousel Club After being dropped into 1963, you find work at the Carousel Club as a dancer. While following a tip where Luther could be, Five sees your routine. Overwhelmed by jealousy he sneaks into your dressing room.

Et tu, Brute? Based off a request, Five gets injured in a mission and you drop everything to make sure he's ok.

Insomniac Five has trouble sleeping and when he does sleep it's anything but peaceful. After a nightmare he craves your touch to remind him you're okay.

Tesoro Universe

Tesoro While working at the commission as a field agent you are assigned a new partner, Number Five.

Meet the Family Five finds a way to return to 2019, you both break your contract with the commission and you meet your in-laws for the first time.

One Bed After a failed mission with the commission, both you and Five find a hotel to rest in. The only problem is, you'll have to share a bed. (Can be read as a one-shot)

Unspoken thing Part 2 of One Bed, after that fateful night in the hotel room. Five has been avoiding you and now you're called into the Handler's office to take responsibility for the delay in exterminating the target.

Routine After the confession, Five and reader head back to a hotel room. Soft dom y/n. (Can be read as one-shot)

The Last of Us

Joel Miller

The Two C's Joel catches you smoking on your porch. Set in Jackson after the events of TLOU. Short and sweet

Red Dead Redemption 2

John Marston

Burning Love Set in the epilogue of RDR2. You stumble upon John in Blackwater after being alone for years. When he invites you to visit Beecher's Hope, will you be able to fight feelings that have been building ever since you were kids?

Gloves John goes crazy over you dressed up for a job, more specifically your white gloves

Arthur Morgan

Fakin' It After a botched robbery, Arthur and you take refuge in a hotel, hiding from the O'Driscolls outside your door. When they do decide to search for you two, how will you throw them off your track?

Fishing in the Dark You and Arthur have a private evening away from camp on the Dakota river.

Dreams Arthur starts having dreams of starting a family with you

My Eyes Only Arthur thinks you look like a work of art

Salt and Pepper Arthur notices his hair is starting to gray

Deserving 6. I won't let anything happen to you, I swear. 34. I think you're showing. 36. You're glowing. 41. The baby loves hearing you sing/speak. 83. Was that a kick?

Blue Ain't Your Color Loosely based on the song, Blue Ain't Your Color

Little Things Arthur returns from a successful job and wants nothing more than to bury himself in you

Charles Smith

Knight in Shining Armor 1. "Kiss me" "What-", 81. "Your heart is racing."

[youwouldntdownloadapizza]

The Gates of Jackson | Joel Miller x F!Reader | Chapter 7 - Homecoming

masterlist | ao3 | follow @youwouldntdownloadapizza and turn on notifications for updates

You showed up at the gates of Jackson with hands covered in blood and no memory of how you got there. That was two years ago. Since then, you've become Maria's right-hand woman and the person in charge of Jackson's logistical backend. Patrol schedules, inventory—all your purview. When a patrol gone wrong forces you to get to know Joel, memories of your past begin resurfacing—along with their consequences.

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pairing: joel miller x f!reader

rating: 18+, minors DNI

word count: 1.5k

tags: no use of y/n, eventual smut, no beta we die like sarah, jackson era, other additional tags to be added, slow burn, ellie needs a hug, joel lives, good parent joel, reader-insert, reader insert, forced proximity, only one bed trope, nightmares, childbirth, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, soft joel, cuddling & snuggling, fluff, masturbation, pining, joel falls first, possibly demisexual reader (tbd), ptsd, ptsd flashbacks, panic attacks, amnesia, sexual braiding

Chapter 7 - Homecoming

“Slow down!” You shouted as you trailed behind Joel’s horse.

His dark-brown mare stepped effortlessly over puddles and swerved gracefully around patches of loose dirt. Your smaller, more cautious horse struggled to keep up.

“Can’t. Sorry, Doe,” He called back over his shoulder.

“Why the hell not?”

He continued down the trail with a grunt, leaving your unanswered question hanging in the air. The wind quickly swept it away. It was picking up as you headed back towards Jackson. You made a mental note to schedule a maintenance crew to check for weak spots in the fence once it passed.

Loose hairs clouded your vision as a particularly strong gust swept through. You undid your braid and twisted your locks up into a bun. You wrapped the elastic once, twice, until–

SNAP!

You tossed your head back with a groan. “Oh, come on!”

You shoved the broken hair tie in your pocket and nudged Bailey forward down a path that was beginning to feel a lot more like an obstacle course than a trail.

Joel was waiting for you as you rounded the corner.

“I thought you were in a hurry.”

He ran his fingers through his hair. Much like yours, it was a wind-tousled mess.

“I am. It’s just–”

He gestured towards the fork in the trail before him. You smirked.

“Ever heard of a map, Miller?”

“We left it at the lookout tower.”

You nodded. “True. But I keep an extra right here.” You tapped your forehead for emphasis, and he gave you an eye roll that rivaled one of Ellie’s.

“I meant a paper one, not a mental one.”

You pointed out a stack of rocks set off to one side, a few paces down the left-hand path.

“See that tall pile of stones?”

He nodded.

“Maps are hard to come by around here unless we make them ourselves. For patrols closer to Jackson, we use stone cairns to mark pathways. If you ever get lost, they’ll lead you back home every time.”

Joel pursed his lips in a subtle sign of approval. “Clever. I’ll let Ellie know, in case she needs it someday.”

You offered a soft smile, then led the way down the cairn-marked trail back towards Jackson.

Perhaps that’s why he’s in such a hurry , you realized. He’s worried about Ellie.

You looked back over your shoulder, and your heart clenched at the concern so apparent on his worn features.

Your voice was gentle as you spoke. “I’m sure she’s fine, you know.”

“That’s none of your concern,” he bristled.

The words weren’t particularly harsh, but they caught you off guard. You couldn’t help but flinch as if you’d been struck by a fist instead of a statement.

“Sorry,” you muttered.

You traveled in silence after that. The wind picked up as evening took hold, and it was a struggle to keep your hair out of your face. You tried twisting it up into a knot, tucking the ends into the coil to hold it in place, but it fell out every time. Then you tried pulling your hood over your head, but that limited your peripheral vision too much. So you tried braiding it, but you’d never been any good without a mirror.

“Quit futzin’ with it,” Joel sighed, pulling his horse to a stop.

You followed suit, turning to face him.

He just looked at you, hand outstretched. “Get down.”

His expression was equal parts insistence and annoyance. You let him help you down, and your breath caught in your throat as he spun you around.

“What are you–”

“Relax,” he drawled. “I’m fixing your hair. You can’t have it flyin’ around in this wind. If we hit trouble, you need to be able to see.”

“I know. I don’t have a hair tie, though.”

He reached into his saddlebag and retrieved one. “Good thing I do, then.”

“Why do you have a hair tie?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Why do you think?”

You clenched your eyes shut as you realized the painfully obvious answer.

“Ellie.”

“Bingo.”

A shiver ran down your spine as he brushed through your hair with his fingers, gently detangling the pesky, persistent knots. He separated it into three sections and began to braid.

“Ellie usually wears her hair in a ponytail. When did you learn how to braid?”

He let out a soft huff of air. You couldn’t tell without looking at him whether it was one of pain or wistful recollection.

“Long time ago. Even longer story.”

You swallowed, unsure how to respond. You let his answer be enough, and closed your eyes as he finished your braid. His hands were sturdy, yet kind. He didn’t pull on your hair out of frustration like your mother once had. His breath just barely tickled the tops of your ears as he worked, but it was there, warm and steady. Just like with everything else, Joel knew what he was doing.

You jumped when he patted your shoulder a minute later.

“All done. Let’s skedaddle.”

It took you a moment to return to yourself. Despite your better judgment, you had found yourself lost in the sensation of Joel’s touch.

“I hate that word,” you muttered as you swung your leg over the saddle, settling into place on Bailey’s back.

“What would you suggest instead, then?” He asked.

You panicked. “Uhhh…boogie?”

He barked a laugh. “That is so much worse. But fine, let’s boogie.”

So boogie you did. Thankfully once you rounded the bend, the trail opened up and you were able to walk side by side. You swept the braid over your shoulder and paused to feel it. It was silky smooth, not a hair out of place. It was perfect, practiced. You were grateful for it.

As you reached the base of the foothills, the far-off lights of Jackson came into view. Floodlights illuminated the main gate and key communal areas, with twinkle lights strung above the main thoroughfare. Firelight flickered through house windows, and you could feel the warmth from here. This place, more so than any you’d ever experienced, felt like home.

Joel peered over the edge of the meandering path that led down to the main gates. You were only a few miles off now.

“Looks like someone cleared that rubble,” he remarked.

“That would be Mike and Casey. Those two are a veritable dream team.”

“How’d they know it was there?” he asked.

You pulled the walkie-talkie from its holster at your hip and held it aloft in answer. “Long-range radio. It’s been an ongoing effort with spotty results, but the improvements to patrol safety are undeniable.”

Joel stared at you. “You jerry-rigged the walkies? I thought that was a satellite radio or something. Not that many of those work anymore.”

“Took a while, but yeah. Why do you think Maria put me in charge of all the unglamorous backend stuff? In a place like Jackson, problems are doomed to arise. I like solving them before they pose a threat to our survival.”

He eyed you curiously. “You take this real serious, don’t you?”

You replied with a curt nod, “I do.”

***

The gates swung open as you approached, the green ‘all clear’ flag held high above your head in a tight grip.

You let out a sigh as it closed behind you, sliding off Bailey’s back and rolling your shoulders as the innate stress of being outside the walls retreated at last.

“Good patrol,” Joel spoke from behind you.

You turned to see his hand outstretched. You hesitated, then took it.

His skin was rough against yours, weathered by years of hard labor and reluctant adventure. His grip was firm but gentle. Then, with a squeeze, it was gone.

“Good patrol,” you muttered, taking Chestnut’s reins from his other hand and passing both horses off to the waiting stable hand.

He cocked his head towards the houses. “You comin’?”

You arched an eyebrow. “Coming where?”

“To meet the baby.”

Ba-bum. Ba-bum. Ba-bum.

Your heart thumped in your chest, the pace quickening for a reason you couldn’t quite pinpoint. It was the same instinct that had led you out on patrol instead of to the clinic when Maria had gone into labor. You wished you could articulate what it was about childbirth that sent you into such a panic. But much like those mysterious years between Salt Lake and Jackson, you kept coming up blank.

Joel’s brow furrowed with concern as he took in your wide, terrified eyes.

“Doe?”

You snapped out of it as your eyes met his, but you couldn’t push the fear aside. You couldn’t stomach it, not tonight, not after everything that had happened at the lookout tower. Maria was your best friend. Surely she’d understand if you stopped by tomorrow instead.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure–”

You snapped. “I said I’m fine .”

You turned to leave, but paused as you added, “Tell Tommy and Maria congrats for me.”

Joel stepped around you, blocking your path. “Tell them yourself.”

You shot him a piercing look and pushed past him with more force than was probably necessary. He stumbled, taken aback.

Your voice dripped with venom as you got the last word.

“Goodnight, Joel.”

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taglist: @aspecialgreenie

[atiny-piratequeen]

𝑨𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒙𝒊𝒂-a state of freedom from emotional disturbance and anxiety, especially as an ongoing condition of soul-fulfilling attainment; unconditional tranquility

𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔

Ataraxia Verse, Atx Asks, Asks towards the boys directly are on @atiny-crew-musings

𝑰𝒏𝒇𝒐:

Ataraxia, abbreviated as "Atx" for short, is a new universe, focused around ateez as various 'monsters'. The idea grew from a commission from @jacksons-goddess-gaia and thanks to her and @little-lazuli, along with some interested anons, has grown into a wider, expanded universe, and this post is to help us get to know our players a bit better. This post is in no way finalized and changes may apply, especially as more works are added.

An important note: The characters in this universe are polyamorous and queer. Just because there are some 'x reader insert' works in the series does not negate from the overarching theme of this being Polyteez.

Eye renders below were done by me (7/8) and @doodles-and-teacups (1/8-Mingi's were rendered by them, thank you again, Mickey!)

.·:*¨ ✘♚✘ ¨*:·.

Hongjoong-Ocean Vengence

Faka’ita fai ki tahi

Anger bestowed on the sea.-Tongan

Race: (Reborn) Seaborn-Once a Human, Now a Siren

Height: 6’1, 6’5 in Seaborn Form in Water

Age: 23 When human, 85 currently

Appearance: Blue hair, deep brown eyes, appears black from afar. From his forearm down and calves down to his feet in humanoid form, they are black with small, speckled scales along his skin that glitter depending on when it is hit by the light. In Seaborn form, he has the tail of an orca. His dorsal side is sleek and solid black while his ventral side is white.

Powers: Hydrokinesis, Swift Swimming, Thickened Blubber (tail), Cold Resistant, Vocal Manipulation, Hypnosis

Weapons: Aside from his fangs and claws, Hongjoong's signature method of inflicting damage is to slam his tail against the ribcage of his enemies, often trying to break their ribs and puncture their lungs from the force of the hits. On land, he uses neon knives gifted to him by a particular Entity.

Personality: Hongjoong is one of the more cynical of the core eight men of this universe. He is guarded and fairly quick to anger. Despite this, he has become an exemplary leader in the village where he and Seonghwa live. Hongjoong would do anything for his seven and his village and is incredibly perceptive when it comes to reading the movements of potential enemies and planning counterattacks according to his findings.

Scent:

Home: Talavou, the village steadily growing in the depths of a series of islands in the Eastern Hemisphere of the world. Once very small, holding a population of only one thousand or so Seaborn and Reborns, now it has grown and neighboring areas have developed alongside the central village that are all under the same jurisdiction.

.·:*¨ ✘♚✘ ¨*:·.

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

Seonghwa- Seafoam Kismet

Papata pē, ka na’e lalanga

It may be coarse in texture but it was woven.-Tongan

Race: Seaborn (Angelfish)

Height: 7’, 8’ in Seaborn Form in Water

Age: 177

Appearance: Soft, silken blonde hair, green eyes (change with emotions). His forearm down to his hands and his calves down to his feet are covered in an ombre platinum to blue. Several patches of scales will appear on his skin depending on his emotions/if he's injured and trying to protect himself from sustaining more injuries. He has a scar on his shoulder and on his abdomen after a Certain Incident. In his Seaborn Form, he has a magnificent tail holding some qualities from some ocean angelfish. His tail now has thick brown stripes starting along the midway point. Between these stripes, orange and yellow dots litter the spaces. The end of his tail is solid black with a single, vibrant electric blue stripe along the flowy fan of his tail. His hands have claws that can tear through skin and crush bone.

Powers: Hydrokinesis, Swift Swimming, Glow-in-the-Dark Scales, Vocal Manipulation, Hypnosis

Weapons: Unlike his Talavoutian Captain, Seonghwa does not use any outside weapons when he fights. He prefers to use his own brute strength and his primary method of ending conflict is to tear the hearts out of his enemies.

Personality: Despite his often snarky banter with Hongjoong, Seonghwa is fiercely loyal and would do anything for the people he loves. He tends to put himself in danger trying to protect weaker entities, and this is why he primarily lives on the shore nearby the village instead of living in it-protecting sea turtles and helping them hatch and make it into the water without any of them being eaten by predators. Despite his handsome, princely appearance, he is one of the easiest to make flustered and unfortunately (for him), his emotions are broadcasted on full display thanks to his scales and his eyes. While incredibly intelligent, he is surprisingly aloof and often loses track of time, leading to him getting scolded by the other members of The Fold for not visiting them as much as he should be.

Scent: Sea salt, Vanilla + coconut undertones

Home: Despite being a native of Talavou, Seonghwa primarily lives on the nearest island to the village. This island has no name, yet.

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Yunho-Magma Sentinel

Ng ko er a belochel, el mesengei otelochel e suebek

Like a pigeon seeing the danger, yet it flies from cover. (Palauan)

Race: Hellhound

Height: 7’5 in Hellhound Canine Form, 9’ in Humanoid Form

Age: 666 Years Old

Appearance: In his Hellhound form, Yunho stands taller than a horse. His appearance is based off of a Tibetan Mastiff, and as such, he has a coat full of dense, thick black furr. His paws are bigger than that of a bear's. He has two, circular markings above his eyes resembling eye brows that are made from red fur and has a patch of fur along his chest, stomach, the bottoms of his paws, and the underside of his tail where all of the fur is deep crimson. In this form, his fangs are so massive, they can be seen even when his mouth is shut. In his bipedal 'human' form, he stands at 9 feet tall, and his eyes retain their deep, blazing color as they are when he is in his hound form. When he is angered, his eyes blaze, and as a result of it, he has permanent burn marks in the corner of his eyes despite his ears being downcast in his hound form, they are upright in his humanoid form. His tail is the same size as it is in his hound form. He doesn't have an under or overbite in this form, but his canines are just as sharp. His tongue is a vibrant red and orange because of his ability to spit fire and magma, but he can control the temperature so it doesn't harm anyone if he doesn't intend it to. Yunho's wrists, ankles, and his neck are littered in scars, memories of a past imprisonment when he was a few centuries younger.

Powers: Magma and fire manipulation (from his mouth, his hands/paws), Yunho's fire is so hot it can continuously burn one's spirit even after they are dead. He has the strongest ability to track scents of all of the boys in The Fold and can even breathe underwater and track there, too. Because of his ability to manipulate heat, he can technically 'fly' by running on air. His flames get stronger when he goes in a 'berserker' state and when his flames come into contact with Mingi's, they weave together and can eviscerate an entire continent.

Weapons: Yunho doesn't use any items for weapons. In both of his forms, his claws and teeth emit either lava or fire depending on how concentrated it is, or how angry he is. He uses his massive body to knock enemies off of their feet and tends to aim for the jugular when it comes to larger entities.

Personality: Hellhounds are, by nature, quite competitive and combative. While Yunho is not as overtly as aggressive as some of his peers, his hostility comes out in a full show of force when those he cares about are in any form of danger and/or distress. Aside from that, he tends to be a standout compared to other Hounds. He is kind most of the time, often offering his services to struggling couples in order to help incubate their eggs. Because of this, he has been essential in the population boom in Talavou and has helped many of the guppies of Seaborn come into being. Because of a certain incident in his past, he is exceptionally gentle with children and often offers himself up when it comes to looking after them. If any children in his care were to become threatened or frightened by any opposing forces, Yunho would respond with EXTREME prejudice. Despite any preconceived notions about his nature, Yunho goes out of his way to be gentle with those weaker than him and because of that, he is often called upon to be a guardian watchdog for traveling caravans of monsters and spirits alike.

Scent: amber + geranium, smoked wood when enraged

Home: Born from fire and flame, Yunho lives in the Underworld, in a section known as the Crimson Fields. This area is where many Hellhounds reside, and it is, in its own right, a massive open village. It has areas designated for any battles, as Hellhounds tend to be on the more aggressive end, by nature. Yunho has a cabin of his own that he built by hand, and lives on the outskirts. He prefers to live with his seven, though, and will spend most of his time not in the Crimson Fields visiting Velvet Elysium-the Succubus/Incubus colony Jongho was born in, Talavou-the Siren village, The Whetū Faewilds-Yeosang's Home, or in San and Mingi’s Den in Serein Mountain.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ*:.*:..*:...｡o○　　○o｡..:*..:*..:*Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

Yeosang- Wildwood Lex Talionis

Air tenang menghanyutkan

Don’t think there are no crocodiles because the water runs calm.-Indonesian

Race-Faerie, ???

Height: 6’5

Age: ?????

Appearance: Yeosang is the tallest fae in his village, standing abnormally tall for his race, as most of his other villagers are well over a foot shorter than him. His eyes are usually a dazzling mixture of blue and gold, with flecks of pink and stardust-like twinkles in them. the edges of his eyes are dark purple. His eyes change when he is angered, bleeding into an intense crimson and magenta color. The corner of his left eye has a big, distinct birthmark in the corner of it. Across his nose are freckles that glitter and glow with his magic use, they change depending on what type of magic he uses. His hair is silky, long, and black, and almost always has some form of decorative clip in it. Yeosang wears the most ornate jewelry of all of the boys, and it seems like each of them has some tie to his powers in some way, shape, or form. He wears loose-fitting clothing, but is actually quite muscular underneath.

Powers: Phytokinesis, Fae Magic,....r̨͇̖̪͊e̹͓̜͍̘̝̼̓̌͟m̻͎̾ͮ̅̀a̴̜̯̟͎͔͓̔ͬͮͪi̷̦̦̟͒n̙̻̳̺͇̓͐̄̀͘i̴̮̼͚͍͎̫ͭͧn̡͎̟̙͖̣̣̪͈̿g̨̯̙̻̜̣̩ͥ̓̇ ̨͕͕̭̩ͫd̷̠̰̗̞̭͖̃͊ͪ̈́ä̛̹̹̳͐͛t̛̹̯̰̣͂͐͐͐á̤͎̯ͮ͌͜ ̛̤̣̹͇̿cͯ̃͒ͦ҉͎͚̬̫ͅo̠̳͓̮̣̺͖̹ͣ̀ŗ̻̪̝ͫ̐ͅr͎͈͈͔̙͓̞̘̎̂ͣ́u̘͙ͮ͟p̵̞͙̲̲̦̗̱̫̏ͮͫͨt̴͚̯̦̖͇̻ͯ̎̐e̸̥̗̤̦ͪ̇d̤̬̻͇̩̆ͫ͊͞

Personality: Yeosang is a healer and by nature, he is very kind being, and every being in his forest looks to him for guidance and leadership. Despite his initial soft-spoken mannerisms, Yeosang can be quite hostile when it comes to his loved ones and his forest. There is a mysterious air that follows the man and it seems only Wooyoung truly knows what he's not quite telling the others. Yeosang often protects those around him with anything at his disposal, but he also has been known to curse those who cross him for several generations, inflicting pain and misfortune on their bloodline that will not be lifted until he can be appeased once more. He can be quite sadistic and if angered and set off, tends to kill in slow, agonizing ways before returning to his home.

Scent:

Home: The Whetū Faewilds

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ*:.*:..*:...｡o○　　○o｡..:*..:*..:*Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

»» ──ஓ๑♥๑ஓ ── ««

San- Novaturient Eleutheromania

Tēnā ra koe, e whakamaui ake nei

Greetings to you who have come from death’s door-Māori

Race: Manticore

Height: 6'8 in Manticore Form, 6’7 in Humanoid Form

Age: 277 Years Old

Appearance: In both his manticore form and his humanoid form, San has bold, striking magenta eyes with slits down the center. In his manticore form, resembles a lion, both in appearance and height and in size. As far as manticores go, he is actually on the smaller end. His tail is a thick, solid black scorpion tail and he has wings on his back that are covered by Mingi's shredded scales for protection. San wears a choker made from Mingi's scales, as well, that protect his neck from fatal wounds to the jugular. In his humanoid form, his ears, tail, and wings stay visible. San has retractable claws and a barbed tongue, though his tongue is much softer than a traditional feline creature's is.

Powers: Shape Shifting, Sonic Roars, Potent Venomous Stings, Flight, Super Strength

Weapons: San's roars can disorient and even deafen his enemies, and he often uses this as an opening to either escape or rush in for a hit and run style attack with his claws or his tail. His tail holds very potent venom that can down up to thirteen elephants in a single jab. San's jaws are incredibly powerful and can lock once he's got a full bite of whoever he's holding onto, giving him more time to riddle them with more stings from his tail and neutralize them as quickly as possible.

Personality: San is the most guarded of all of the members. He is from a race of monsters that has been hunted to near extinction for sport, and because of that, he does not trust anyone easily. After a chaotic night and a certain incident in the rain, San stumbled onto Mingi's mountain and was saved by the dragon. After then, he stays inside their shared den, creating a labyrinth at first to separate him from the stronger winged man to keep himself safe, but those days have long since passed and he is often attached to the hip with the large monster. If you are one of the small few who win him over and gain his trust, a different side of San is revealed. He is a fun-loving man with those he loves and despite his own fear of being killed, San sometimes finds himself throwing himself in the heat of the battle to guard the others. It is the only time he'd intentionally put himself in danger, as he often thinks of himself and his own self-preservation first before most others. He means no ill-will by his actions, and it is the cause of great unrest in his heart, being afraid of the world around him that so many in the fold find beauty in.

Scent:

Home: San's previous home was destroyed, so he now lives in Serein Mountain with Mingi.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Mingi-Nacarat Querencia

Berakit-rakit ke hulu, berenang-renang ke tepian.

Bersakit-sakit dahulu, bersenang-senang kemudian.

Rafting to the headwaters, swimming to the riversides. It is painful at first, but victorious in the end.-Indonesian

Race: Dragon

Height: 1024’ (As Tall as the Eiffel Tower w/o Antenna) in Enraged Dragon Form, Size in Form Varies Otherwise, 10’ in Humanoid Form

Age: 500+ Years Old

Appearance: Mingi is a massive gold-type dragon, and to many smaller than him, in either form, he stretches as tall as the heavens. His dragon form is covered in deep, international orange scales along with sharp spines along the length of his spine that can pierce through even stone. His underbelly is an ombre cream-to-gold color, and the end of his thick, tree-trunk-like tail has silken fur. His eyes are deep and mixed with shades of orange and gold, and he has twin, spiraled crimson horns on his head that are similar to a giant eland's. His wings are wide and have a shimmer underneath them that serve to distract and blind when Mingi fights. In his humanoid form, he stands as the tallest of The Fold. His hair is two shades of orange, with the lighter amber shade being at the top and front, while the deeper, international shade is towards the back. Mingi's horns, tail, and wings remain present in this form, as well as thick patches of scales covering his vital points (over his heart, around his throat). from his forearms down to his (clawed) fingers, his arms are an ombre from deep orange to gold. From past fights, in both forms, Mingi is littered with scars, with the most prominent being a deep scar over the center of his wings, where he nearly had them torn off in a conflict many moons ago.

Powers: Shapeshifting, Fire Breathing, Superior Strength, Flight, His flames get stronger when he goes in a 'berserker' state and when his flames come into contact with Yunho's, they weave together and can eviscerate an entire continent.

Weapons: Mingi himself is stronger than most weapons this universe has to offer, as is the power of a dragon. His claws can tear into mountains and have shaped the very den he resides in, his back developed spikes once he reached maturity as a dragon and he can slam his massive body into enemies to do catastrophic amounts of damage, especially if he is going back-first. Mingi's tail is very thick and muscular and he has used it to rupture organs with several tail slams. Despite all of this, his most impressive and terrifying weapon is most likely his fire. Growing whiter the more gold and gems he eats, the heat from his flames can get so hot they cremate a being on the spot.

Personality: Mingi is a kind-hearted dragon despite his intimidating appearance and capabilities. He tends to have a good read on a person's intentions, especially after all the years he'd been present on this planet. He is often hyper-aware of his size and strength and is very concerned with hurting the people he loves by accident. It took him nearly three years to allow San anywhere near him during his rut cycles, for fear he'd harm the feline man. Mingi is very passionate and this is both his greatest strength and weakness, as his passion leads to him being beloved by not only his Fold, but those who are lucky enough to meet him. Unfortunately, he often gets overly angered when those he loves are in danger and this leads to him erupting into anger to protect them.

Scent:

Home: After many centuries of traveling, Mingi settled on a mountain known for its rainy conditions, which are very unfavorable to would-be travelers. He burrowed into the side, and with the help of Yeosang and Wooyoung's powerful magic, can make the mountain disappear into a different plane of existence for periods of time (often when he and San are absent). This mountain is Serein Mountain.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

༻༻༻⋇⋆☽ ✦⋆⋇༺༺༺

Wooyoung- Cosmic Verisimilitude

H̵̘̔̓̎e̵̦̓̚͜ ̵̡̛͙̣͌w̷̛͖̫̫͠h̶̢̝̿o̷̢̗͋ ̵̣͚͊p̸̮͆̈́ŗ̴̞͂̍͒o̶̹̿͠v̷͉͆́͗ͅó̷͕͗k̷̳̺̞̔̉é̷̯̍̇s̶͈̊̉ ̴̡͒̐ȧ̷̰͇ ̸̡͉̑͝w̴̡̟̒̅ả̸̘̩ͅr̶̦̭̗̾͝ ̵̘͇̻̿̆m̷̝̺̽͠ü̴̺̟͔̈́̎s̶͚͛̾t̸͉̰̰̆̎ ̶̮͉̟̏̃͝b̷͇͊́̊ḛ̷̂̍̔ ̷͉͚͇̇ś̵̹̎͘ụ̶̰̉̚r̵͎̋͛̕e̶͎̐ ̶͈̘̎̍ţ̶̺̭͗͛h̷̛̰́̿a̸̡̽̔͝t̷̢̻̳̃͂ ̷͇̖̩͛̉̋h̸̬̝̑̊e̶̬̓͐ ̵̘͝ͅk̵̢̼̤̿ń̷̠̤̺͒̕o̸̪̺̪͊w̴̝͊ṣ̸̹̌͆̐ ̴̢͝ḩ̵̨̝̃͌͠ǒ̷̹̣̰w̶̦̤͊̎ ̴͇̒ṱ̸̗̾ò̷̲̖̫ ̴̬͂f̴̼̪̓̋í̴̯̾g̷̞͍̹̔h̷͖̚ṱ̵̓̏̏

Race- Eldritch God 

Height: Larger than the Heavens in ‘True Cosmic Form’, Changes Size at Will, 5’7 Usually

Age: ???????

ᵯēꞩꞩⱥꞡē īꞥⱦēɍɍᵾꝑⱦēđ

Appearance: "Oh, this is fun. Did you all think you'd get all the juicy details here? No. I don't think so. Besides, do you really want to see me in that form? Are you so eager to perish? Here, let me give you the cute version. Ahem. Wooyoung-that's me-has deep purple and blue eyes with cosmic stardust swirling in them. My hair is whatever color I decide looks good, but the long, black look fits me best."

Powers: "My powers are beyond human comprehension. Let's leave it as 'enough to consume this world and not break a sweat. That sounds nice and dramatic, doesn't it? Don't worry. It's not like I go around snapping my fingers crushing planets in an instant...much. Haha."

Personality: "*chuckling* I'm sure you understand by now."

Scent: "Hah. No."

Home: "My home is with my Seven. My Fold is the only thing keeping this pathetic planet from ruin. Be grateful. I think I'm quite done here for today. You can have this back."

ȼꝋꞥꞥēȼⱦīꝋꞥ ɍēⱦᵾɍꞥēđ

༻༻༻⋇⋆☽ ✦⋆⋇༺༺༺

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Jongho-Wanton Yūgen 

He 'ohu ke aloha; 'a'ohe kuahiwi kau 'ole

Love is like mist, there is no mountaintop that it does not settle upon-Hawaiian

Race-Incubi

Height: 6’7

Age: 24 Years

Appearance: Jongho has brilliant hazel eyes that have small, defined hearts in them that make his eyes shine when he experiences pleasure. His hair is a deep red color, contrasting starkly with his eyes. His tail is a thick, almost leathery material and has a heart-shaped tip at the end. Mid-feed, markings may appear on his body, resembling tattoos.

Powers: Seduction, Hypnotism, Pheromone Manipulation, Strength

Weapon: Jongho came into being with exceptional strenth, and is a standout amongst most of his incubi peers because of it. Despite his ability to use his brute strength to subdue enemies, Jongho prefers to use a trench knife given to him by Hongjoong in fights and he takes grate care to keep the blade sharp. In his non-dominant hand, he defends and attacks with a tonfa he'd been gifted from Seulgi. His tail is also strong enough to choke out most entities.

Personality: Jongho is quite close to the members of The Fold, as is the case with all of them, but he holds them in such high regard, he's gotten a strong fear of them seeing him feed and therefore seeing him as a 'lesser being'. All of them have offered themselves to him but it is a battle he has yet to overcome quite yet. He enjoys their touch-though at times he will not admit it without a fight-and has learned to cook to counter his hunger. Wooyoung gave him a paw-print necklace he keeps around his neck at all times and Jongho often finds himself suckling on the stone when he is exceptionally hungry. Despite going two decades without eating an actual meal, Jongho is still strong enough to fight and stand alongside the other members of The Fold.

Scent: amber, warm vanilla + cashmere notes

Home: Jongho came into being in Velvet Elysium and spends his free time there being cared for by Seulgi or exploring with his close friend, a certain ghost he'd bonded with. When not in The Underworld, Jongho can be found with any given one of his hyungs, enjoying his time in their presence and mentally steeling himself for more.

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ * 。° 。 • ˚《》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ * 。° 。 • ˚《

┍━☽【❖】☾━┑

𝑬𝒏𝒔𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒍𝒆

┕━☽【❖】☾━┙

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

⋘ ᴛʀʏ ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ... ⋙

♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔

♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡

Beauty Leaves- Seonghwa x Fem!Reader

⋘ 𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡... ⋙

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

⋘ ᴛʀʏ ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ... ⋙

[hottpinkpenguin]

The Way of Winter - Chapter 5

Joel Miller series Female reader insert A/n: takes place at the end of episode 6 (spoilers if you haven't seen!). I took a few liberties with the location. Took a (suuuuper) long hiatus - but I'm back! Taglist (Since it's been so long, if anyone doesn't want to be tagged anymore pls let me know!): @missdragon-1 @this--is--music @caravelofthesun @ishouldclean @mezmerwrites @babypeapoddd @ay0nha @tpwkstiles @one-sweet-gubler @coolninjavoid @ameliabs-world @superflymaterial @p-muffin @s1xthirty @flightlexsbird @nataliemdixon @krisviciousx @notsosecretspy @freerangesweets @partyofone3413 @angelfxll @bojana-aa04 Word count: 2,351 | Tags: slow burn | Warnings: graphic descriptions of brutality, violence, child death, torture; cursing

“We have to go back to Jackson.” 

You fought the urge to reach over and kick the girl off her horse. You still didn’t know her name - you noticed Joel was careful not to use her name around you. 

You ignored her, guiding Rambo deeper into the snow-blanketed woods along the hunting trail. You knew these woods well, although you’d never been here in the winter. You came out often in the fall, using the old deer blinds you’d patched up to hunt the elk that passed through here. Although they didn’t offer much protection from the elements, the deer blinds were the only place you could think of to go to. That plan apparently didn’t meet with the girl’s approval. She’d been chirping incessantly at you for the last three hours about going “back to Jackson”. 

“Y/n, we have to. Joel’s going to die out here!” 

Behind you, Joel let out an indignant groan of protest. 

“Please! We have to turn around! If you care about us at all, you’ll turn us back.”

You felt your already stretched patience snap like a taut rubber band. You jerked on Rambo’s reins, the massive shire horse’s neck straining in protest against your unusually harsh movement. You reached out, grabbing a fistful of the girl’s dirty sweater around the neck and pulling her towards you so violently she almost fell out of the saddle. 

“Listen to me, you ungrateful little bitch,” you spat, cutting off her startled whimper. A distant part of you regretted treating a child like this, but that regret was too weak to break through your fiery rage. “If you want to haul your ass back to Jackson, you can take your half dead not father and do it without my horse, my dogs, my guns, my supplies, or my help. I am not fucking going to Jackson.”

The teenager’s dark eyes widened in abject fear at your outburst, but you saw the minute flicker of her pupils darting to something next to your head. You heard a pistol click softly as Joel cocked it next to your left ear, the cold muzzle coming to rest against your temple.

“Let her go,” he commanded. Your lip curled, the anger still boiling in your veins mixing with scorn at being caught off guard by a man mere inches from you. You shot a dark glare at him from the corner of your eye as you roughly released the now silent teenager. She jostled in the saddle a bit off balance, but didn’t fall out. 

The gun didn’t drop from your temple, Joel’s hand surprisingly steady. You knew he was probably straining through pain from his still-oozing popped stitches and woozy from blood loss, although it didn’t show. You felt a grudging admiration for his grit, the determination with which he protected that strange and obnoxious girl. 

“Put the gun down, Joel. I’m not gonna kill your brat,” you sneered. The muzzle didn’t move, still pressed against your temple. 

“She’s right,” Joel murmured quietly after a few moments of tense quiet. “Jackson is our best bet.” 

Rage turned to white hot fury. Your hands clenched into fists on the pommel of the saddle, your nails digging into the cold leather. Black and the other dogs growled uncomfortably next to you, recognizing your rising temper and waiting for a signal. 

“Then get off my horse,” you whispered through gritted teeth. You pushed against the pistol to turn your head to face Joel. The two of you were so close you could feel his ragged breath fanning on your face. His gaze was just as hard as your heart felt, the two of you testing the depths of each other’s determination. 

“My brother is there,” Joel offered, his voice softening somewhat. “They’ll welcome y-”

“You fuckers don’t listen,” you growled, fighting against the urge to reach for the hunting knife you kept strapped to your thigh and gut Joel on the spot. “If you’re going to Jackson, you go without me.”

“Why?” His voice was flattened by fatigue. “What’s so bad about Jackson?” 

You closed your eyes tightly against the onslaught of memories that threatened to swamp you. Your sisters, her boys, the sounds of their screams mixed with gunfire… 

The pistol dropped from your temple, but Joel didn’t relax completely. Your eyes opened as you forced your mind to refocus on the moment. Joel kept the gun hovering a few inches above your shoulder, the muzzle tipped up to angle directly towards the side of your head. Behind the layers of protective rage and pain, you saw a flicker of empathy in his green eyes as he looked at you. 

“Either we keep going, or you two give me my guns and get going.” You jerked your chin over your left shoulder, back in the direction you’d come from. “Jackson is a three day ride that way.” 

You watched as indecision flickered across Joel’s face for a second. With a decisive move, he retucked the pistol into the back waistband of his pants and swung a leg over Rambo’s rump to dismount.

“We’re not going without you.” 

The sound of the girl’s quiet voice caught both you and Joel off guard; you’d both forgotten she was there. You turned to give her an incredulous look, Joel shooting her a matching expression of disbelief.

“We owe you our lives,” she announced matter-of-factly. “I for one don’t think we’ll get far without you.” 

You snorted, nodding softly in agreement. Joel’s expression turned sour as his disbelief turned to withering rebuke.

“Joel, you know I’m right,” she chided. 

Joel glared at her, hovering halfway off the back of the saddle. His face looked gaunt and pale, his arms shaking slightly with the effort. A twinge of worry plucked at you as you saw the strain in his face, pain threatening to break through. 

“Fine.” Joel’s concession was begrudging. He grunted as he let himself down onto the ground next to Rambo. Your horse chuffed gratefully at the lesser weight on his back. He was a strong mount, but you’d been pushing him hard on very little feed. 

“But I’m not going anywhere until you tell us why we can’t go to Jackson.”

Your eyes narrowed as you glared at Joel. His challenging tone echoed in the darkening woods as a thick, stifling silence fell over the three of you. The girl shifted nervously on her horse, her gaze darting back and forth between you and Joel as the two of you stared each other down. 

“Why do you care,” you spat back. Your mood was turning blacker by the second as the faces of your family flickered past. 

“I want to know who I’m riding with,” he replied simply. You kept your eyes trained on his face, but didn’t miss the way his hand casually slid up the side of his thigh towards the handgun he kept tucked in the back of his jean waistband. His suspicious mind was getting the best of him, you realized. He wondered if you were intentionally leading him and his ward - whoever the unnamed teenager was to him - out into the wilderness to kill them. 

“If I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead already,” you told Joe, trying to sound conciliatory. His hand didn’t stop its slow progress towards his handgun. He couldn’t understand your reluctance to go to Jackson, a place he knew as safe. You’d have to throw him a bone. 

Finally breaking eye contact with him, you bit back tears as you stared down at the pommel of the saddle. You’d never spoken about losing your sister or her two boys. You had no one to speak about it with, but nevertheless, the silence you’d kept on the topic was your last defense against the grief that threatened to break you loose from reason. You took a deep breath in, resentment towards your two traveling companions clashing with the irritating urge to stay with them and protect them. When you finally looked back at Joel, you knew without needing to hear him say a word that he knew the grief you felt. He’d lost too, and like you the losses were carved bone-deep into his memory. 

“Jackson killed my family.”

Your lip trembled pathetically and you angrily swiped at the hot tears spilling down your cheeks. There had never been a greater understatement of the truth, but you didn’t know how to tell Joel and the girl what really happened. That all of you had been weeks into the doldrums of winter, bellies unnaturally bloated with starvation beneath rib cages that seemed ready to break through your thin skins. Your sisters and nephews were foraging for food and roaming further from your home than you’d ever been before. Half delirious with hunger, they’d stumbled on a scraggly deer carcass with its leg caught in a trap and hadn’t thought twice about who the trap belonged to before they started eating the days-old meat raw. Some riders from Jackson had found the three of them gorging themselves on the putrid meat and had initially thought they were infected. No one had stopped long enough to ask questions before your sister and eldest nephew were dead. Her other son, Adrian, had been only seven at the time, and he’d cried out for you in the forest. You’d heard his scream in the forest as you’d been racing towards them, the sounds of earlier gunfire drawing you in. Why you’d been separated from them, you couldn’t even remember now. All you remembered was the way he sounded: alone, terrified, and desperate. 

You’d crested a steep, frozen-over creekbed just in time to see one of the Jackson riders put a bullet through Adrian’s skull without so much as a flinch. You’d never forget the man’s face: dark hair with a finely trimmed mustache, thick dark hair down to his shoulders. Empty eyes. He’d turned and left their bodies where they’d been shot. It wasn’t until your sister started moaning in pain, her dying moments bleeding out in the snow next to her two sons, that you truly understood just how deep the rot ran in Jackson. The riders had stopped at the sound of your sister clawing across the snow towards Adrian, grunting in agony from the slugs they’d buried in her gut. You’d watched them watch her for a few moments the way someone might watch an ant in water. Then, the empty eyed man had gotten down off his horse. For a split second, you wondered if he was going to help your sister, if maybe he’d finally realized that she wasn’t infected, just ravenous. He walked towards her, his boots crunching in the fresh snow. Your lungs had turned to bricks in your chest, cowardice rooting you to the spot. He knelt beside her, his head cocked at a coldly curious angle. Your sister sputtered as blood dribbled out of her mouth, her arms reaching futilely for Adrian. The man had laughed once before he’d reached down and grabbed a fistful of your sister’s hair, hauling her up by the scalp. She couldn’t stand on her own, her body beginning to shut down, so he held her small frame upright like a ragdoll. She was mewling in pain, reaching for his hand to try and free herself, her eyes rolling back in her head. He’d laughed again, the others joining in, before he dug a finger into one of her bullet wounds-

You gasped, the air completely expelled from your lungs. You hadn’t realized you’d been talking - the crystal clear recollections of that horrid day spun like a tornado in your mind, wiping away any awareness of what you’d actually spoken aloud. 

Long, heavy silence settled around you. Neither Joel nor the girl said anything. You avoided looking at them, staring into the cold woods around you and forcing yourself to settle. 

“That’s why we’re not going to Jackson.”

You went to reign Rambo forward, but Joel’s hand was faster. He reached out, grabbing Rambo’s bridle. Your horse shook his head in irritation, but Joel’s grip was steely. He tried to catch your eye. You didn’t trust yourself to look at him, so you stared at the ground and grit your teeth.

“How do you know those people were from Jackson?” he demanded. His voice was hard. 

“I followed them,” you replied. You felt detached from your voice, as if you were listening to yourself speak from a distance. “I meant to kill them. I followed them as far as Jackson. Waited outside the gate for days. Never got my revenge. So I left.”

Your ears were ringing despite the silence of the snow-blanketed woods. The memory of your sister’s guttural shrieks split your concentration like an icepick. You saw Adrian’s lifeless body like a shadow behind your eyelids. You clenched your fists so tightly that you felt a rivulet of blood spill down your palms from where your nails bit into your skin. When you spoke, your voice shook with fury.

“If either of you ask me to explain myself again, I’ll fucking kill you.” Now you caught Joel’s eyes. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly at your words. Both of you knew those words were true. There was an ugly blackness in your soul, and if Joel and his teenager tested it again, you’d let it loose on them. 

You swallowed heavily and dug your heels into Rambo’s sides. He yanked free of Joel’s loosened grip and took off trotting down the narrow hunting trail, deeper into the woods. You heard Joel grunt in agony as he hauled himself up on the chestnut mare with the teenager. You didn’t slow to wait for them, or check to make sure you hadn’t lost them in the deepening twilight of the cold winter woods. You felt yourself crumble inwards, fury and emptiness howling like a hurricane inside your chest. You rode all through the night, ignoring the girl’s protests to stop. By the time the sun rose, you didn’t know if you’d ever find yourself again…

**read chapter 6 here more chapters coming soon! let me know if you'd like to be tagged (or untagged) if you like this series, check out my Last of Us masterlist for other works

[drjohndisco]

Stardust - Stargate 1994 Reader Insert (Chapter 01)

Ao3 Link

Pairing: Daniel/Sha'uri/Reader

Tags: @geekygumiho (Tell me if you want to be added/removed!)

There was a knock at the door, which caused you to look up from your desk.

'What is it?'

'Dr. Jackson's arrived, Dr.(L/N)'

'He's here?' You asked. 'Daniel's here?'

It took everything in you to not sprint down the corridor. So, instead, you put down your papers and stood up, walking briskly past the man and down the hall.

++

When Daniel finally looked away from the black board he smiled the biggest grin he had in months and ran towards you, picking you up into a hug. You squeaked and put your arms around his shoulders.

'Daniel, I've missed you.' You mumbled when he released you and your feet were back on the ground. 'How long has it been? 4 months?'

'Only 3 and a half. It, uh, felt longer.'

'Well, that's what happens when you've got the military suddenly contracting you. You know I'd have contacted you if I could have.'

'Yeah, I do.' He mumbled, and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, suddenly violently aware that Catherine and the others were waiting. Catherine laughed and Daniel took your hand, turning back around to face them.

'So, you've translated it then?' You asked.

'Yeah, just before you came in.'

'Oh, Daniel! That's amazing!'

'Thank you.' Daniel said. 'But I've got just one question, Catherine, why is the military so interested in 5,000 year old tablets?'

'My report says 10,000.' A man said. He was tall and was closed in dress uniform, with a close-cropped haircut. His lapel was decorated with many small coloured patches.

'Afternoon, Colonel.' Kawalsky said, saluting the man.

'Um, do I know you?' Catherine asked, looking him up and down.

'I'm Colonel Jack O'Neil from General West's office. I'm taking over from you.'

'This figure 10,00 is ludicrous. I mean, Egyptian culture didn't even exist--' Daniel murmured quietly under his breath. You smiled, and suppressed a laugh, of course Daniel was already showing up the base personnel.

'Mhmm.' Shore agreed. 'We know, but the sonic and radio carbon tests are conclusive.'

'Well, these are cover stones. Was there a tomb underneath?'

'No, no, no, but we found something more interesting.'

'Excuse me,' O'Neil interrupted. 'This information has been classified.'

At this Shore closed his mouth.

'From now on no information has been authorised to be passed on to non-military personnel.' This order was directed at Kawalsky, who nodded. O'Neil then turned around exited the room.

'Catherine, what's going on here?' Myers questioned.

'I'm not sure.' Catherine replied, before leaving the room and following after the Colonel.

Daniel then turned to you and shrugged at him. Just because you had some military clearance didn't mean you knew everything. Something else had to be afoot.

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Survivor Blues

DAWN OF THE WOLF : ELLIE’S POV 

A/N: Hey friends! This is the first of what will be a handful of interludes within the main story of Survivor Blues. Since the main story is all told through Reader’s perspective, these little mini chapters will be used to look at things from another character’s perspective - and who better to start with than Ellie? This is meant to be an interlude between Part Two & Part Three. Catch up on the story here.

Warnings: discussion of danger, mentions of death, gunshots, language, as always -  general canon-typical apocalyptic hell. 

Word Count: 3,159

Joel was later than usual. The sky was already turning orange when Ellie peered out the window in her front door, the last rays of sunlight glinting off of the residual patches of snow on rooftops and lawns, but he and Tommy hadn’t come back from their scheduled trail sweep yet. That doesn’t mean anything bad happened, she reminded herself. Maybe they found supplies or something. Or maybe a tree was down. Letting out a huff, she turned away from the door, took three steps and flopped back down on the couch. It’s only an hour, he’s not that late. He’ll be back. 

She didn’t let herself dwell on the negative possibilities, though they were never far from her mind no matter how safe life in Jackson had proven to be. The cross country journey she’d made with Joel - and all the things they’d endured along the way - had stamped reminders of what the world was really like beyond the gates into her memory, and she knew that those marks were likely indelible. Dwelling on them wouldn’t help. 

Instead, she leaned forward and picked up the plastic DVD case from the coffee table.Turning it over in her hands, she ran her fingertips over the cover. The lamination was bubbled in places, the insert beneath it faded by time, but the title of the movie was still legible, as was the photo of the two main characters. A couple was locked in a passionate embrace, their features set in what she assumed were meant to be expressions of longing. Not for the first time since she found the movie on a run, Ellie snorted to herself. They look constipated.

Prying open the case, the plastic making a satisfying click as she did that made her smile, Ellie recalled the warm, nostalgic tone that Joel’s voice had taken when he first admitted to seeing Dawn of the Wolf in the theaters. “Just some dumb teen movie,” he had called it. She knew that meant that he’d taken Sarah to see it, which meant that dumb or not it was a treasured memory. Things only become valuable when they’re rare, when they’re irreplaceable. She tilted the case, the silver disc inside shining like an iridescent jewel. 

Ellie slid the folded and stapled booklet out from under the curved clips attached to the case opposite the disc, the waxy paper crinkling as she flipped it open to read the summary again - When Gabi falls for the quiet, brooding new student at her school, their burgeoning romance is stunted by just one thing: his curfew.  - Okay, that definitely sounds dumb. She laughed to herself again. I gotta know what you saw in this movie, Sarah. Sticking the booklet back into place, she closed the case with another click and returned it to the rickety coffee table next to the stack of warped and wrinkled Savage Starlight comics she’d amassed. But I guess I can’t be too quick to judge, huh? Everyone’s got their thing. 

All she wanted was to understand Sarah’s thing. All she wanted was to get a glimpse of the the girl she’d started to think of as a sister, the girl who had taught Joel how to be selfless, who had turned him into someone who took his daughter to see a dumb teen movie, into someone who searched high and low for an audio recording of the moon landing for Ellie’s birthday. She wanted to scour that stupid werewolf move for crumbs and clues and ways to connect the few dots she knew of. 

All she wanted was to understand the people who made up her ramshackle little family, even the ones she’d never get to meet. Because she still matters. And I want to know about her. 

It surprised her, at first, when Joel had agreed to this particular film for the first movie night they had planned in months. She wasn’t sure how he would respond to the suggestion, but he’d done so with a quiet chuckle and a nod, one hand coming up to grip the bottom of his chin as he answered with “You’re gonna hate it, but alright, Ellie.” 

She was relatively sure that even if the movie was absolutely terrible, there was no way for her to hate it. 

But she wouldn’t know until she watched it, and that wouldn’t happen without Joel. Eyes darting to the clock on the far side of the small room, she noted that one hour was stretching closer to two. Where the fuck is he? Getting up again, she crossed back to the door to peek outside and across the yard at Joel’s house. The kitchen light wasn’t on, and when she shifted her angle to see more of the house, she noticed that the living room was also dark as were the upstairs windows, meaning that he still wasn’t home. What’s taking so long? That whole route should only take five hours, tops. Why aren’t they back yet? 

Before panic could rise, Ellie reminded herself that she had seen Joel and Tommy in action together - that she knew that the two of them were more than capable of handling potential threats on their own and that together they functioned like a machine. She reminded herself that since the snow was still melting, the trails were likely a mess and that the two men were taking it slow so as not to injure their horses in the soft mud. She reminded herself that if there was truly a cause for concern that Maria would have rounded up the other patrol members to set up a search party, and no one had come knocking on her door. And if Maria’s not worried, I shouldn’t be either.  

Even so, she couldn’t sit still and alone in her garage-turned-apartment any longer without thinking of all the worst case scenarios. Pulling a sweatshirt over her head, she grabbed the DVD case from the table, plucked her keys from the hook near the door and headed over towards Joel’s house. Guess I’ll get started on dinner. Their plan had been to eat while they watched the movie, the way they had started doing every Sunday night when they first came back to settle in Jackson. Been... a while, though. Typically, when they ate together Ellie let Joel handle the cooking. He was better at it than she was, and Ellie knew that he also enjoyed it. Like tuning his guitar or repainting the porch railing, the simple, mundane task of preparing food was something that Joel found peace in, because it meant as real a return to normalcy as possible.  But she needed the distraction and she figured that even if it wasn’t a gourmet meal, Joel would be hungry enough after his long day outside the town walls that he’d appreciate whatever she was able to cobble together. As long as I don’t burn the house down. With a groan, she climbed the steps and pulled open the back door. 

Twenty minutes later Ellie had located and peeled two potatoes, cutting them into chunks and dropping them into a small pot of water to boil. As she opened the refrigerator she let out a sigh of relief at the sight of the red topped tupperware, what looked to be two cuts of duck breast marinating in herbs and oil inside it,  meaning that she wouldn’t have to worry about properly seasoning the meat. Oh, fuck yeah! Grinning, she pulled out the round container and shut the door with her elbow. He must’ve done this yesterday. These are gonna be so damn good.

By the time the potatoes had come to a boil she had the duck in a skillet. Using the wooden spatula from the caddy on the center island, she slid the utensil under the meat and checked that she wasn’t charring it beyond recognition. Please don’t suck. She had watched Joel and Maria cook on stove tops plenty of times, but this was by far the most complicated thing she had attempted to cook on her own. Her whoop of pride mixed with the hissing sound of the uncooked side hitting the hot cast iron as she flipped it, and she let out a satisfied laugh. “Look at that! I’m the duck master!”  

Over the sound of the fat rendering and her own celebration for not ruining the meal, she hadn’t heard the heavy footsteps coming up the front steps or the creak of the door as it opened. But when the sizzle died down, she heard the familiar snicker of Joel’s laughter. Spinning away from the stove, she found him leaning in the doorway between the foyer and the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest. “Well everything outside is thawin’ out but you in here cookin’ dinner?” He clicked his tongue and tilted his head. “Must mean Hell’s about to freeze over.” 

Ellie narrowed her eyes and gave him a sarcastic “ha, ha.” Quickly scanning his face and upper body, she didn’t see any signs of trouble out on the trails. There were no new stains on his coat, no fresh scratches or cuts on his face, no blood on his knuckles. He doesn’t look hurt. The relief she felt when she found the prepped duck was nothing compared to knowing that he was alright. And that means Tommy is, too. “Here I am trying to do something nice for you, and you have to be a jerk about it.” She smirked and moved to lean against the counter.

He shrugged, head shaking slightly. “You know me.” Ellie rolled her eyes and muttered a yeah as Joel’s attention went to what was in the pan. Pointing at her perfectly seared duck, he drew his eyebrows together, a crease cutting between them. “How’d you know that was for tonight and I wasn’t savin’ it, huh?” 

At that, Ellie huffed out a laugh. “Because I know you, Joel.” 

He chuckled in response. “Yeah, alright, you got me there.” 

Yeah, I know. She cleared her throat and turned to check the status of the potatoes. “So, uh… what took so long today?” The wooden spatula stabbed easily through the softened white cubes. Oh, shit. These are done. She reached out to shut that burner off, turning the dial to kill the flame beneath the pot. “Run into anything out there?” 

As she turned to face him again, she saw his mouth turn down into a half frown, the man letting out a long breath. “Yeah, we… nothin’ happened, but we ran into someone. Up at one of the ridgeview houses?”

Despite the fact that one burner was still lit, Ellie felt a chill slide down her spine at the word someone. Does that mean they were attacked? Did they find someone who… Did he have to-  “What? Who? Was it someone fr-” 

Joel held up his palms and relaxed his facial expression. “Woah, easy, I said nothin’ happened.” Ellie hadn’t realized that her grip on the utensil in her hand had tightened as much as it had, but she eased up at Joel’s request. He sighed and stretched his shoulders. “Why don’t you finish what you’re doin’ here, duck master,” he lifted one brow, “I’m gonna go get cleaned up and I’ll tell you all about it over dinner, alright?” His eyes moved to the thin plastic DVD case sitting on the counter. “And then we got a movie to watch.”  

Ellie nodded. “Yeah,” she agreed, “alright.” Doesn’t sound like nothing though. She didn’t push back, Joel disappearing up the stairs as she finished searing the meat and draining the potatoes. Sounds like… something. She chewed at her bottom lip, trying to figure out what he meant and why he’d frowned when he said it, but then reminded herself of the reason she’d come over to cook in the first place - a distraction - and she refocused on the task at hand. I wonder if Sarah knew how to cook…

She’d have to ask Joel. Another time. 

By the time the food was ready and plated, the pot, pan and wooden spatula sitting in the sink, Joel’s footsteps could be heard descending the staircase. “Smells good, Ellie,” he called as he made his way back into the kitchen. “I woulda done that, but I’m glad I don’t have to wait. So thank you.” 

She scoffed. “Yeah, I was getting pretty hungry so I figured you would be, too.” Pulling open one of the drawers, she took out the requisite cutlery while Joel grabbed glasses from the cabinet to fill them with water. “So I hope this doesn’t taste like shit.” 

He laughed, handing her one of the glasses and picking up one of the plates. “I’m sure it won’t. You did good, kiddo.” With that, he turned towards the living room, Ellie following, the movie tucked into the pouch pocket of her hoodie, her dinner in her hands. 

“So,” she took a seat on the couch, setting her plate and glass on the scuffed wooden coffee table as Joel sunk into the recliner on the other side of the room, “what happened out there?” She sniffed and started cutting into the hunk of meat on her plate. 

Joel sighed. “You really ain’t gonna let me even take a bite before you make me answer, huh?” He arched one eyebrow, looking over at her as he began to cut into his own food. Nope. Ellie shrugged, matching his expression and lifting one eyebrow. So spill it. “Alright, then.” He set his plate on the small side table, the ceramic meeting the wood with a clunk, and Ellie sat up straighter. “Tommy and I went out and cleared the Teton Route. Standard early spring crop of infected roamin’ in the valleys, nothin’ we weren’t expecting to find. Put ‘em down nice and quick.” 

“Ugh, good.” Ellie scowled. “I’m on that trail with Jesse next week. The fewer of those things we have to deal with the better.” 

“Well, you’re welcome, then.” He nodded in her direction. “Should be a breeze.” 

Ellie snorted sarcastically. “Sure. Just your typical patrol for bandits and cannibals and-” 

“Alright, smartass, you know what I meant.” He let his smirk fall into a small chuckle, but there was something not quite right about it. What aren’t you telling me, Joel? As though he could read her mind - or probably my face, she thought, well aware that she was far too expressive to be subtle - he continued recounting his trail run. “Anyway, we were on our way back, ‘bout an hour or so out, and we heard gunshots comin’ from up on the ridge.” 

Ellie sucked in a breath, eyes widening with each blink. “Oh, shit.” 

“Yeah,” he agreed, blowing out a breath. “So Tommy’n I decided to go check it out, make sure it wasn’t somethin’ we had to worry about.” 

Routine trail sweeps had two main functions - to keep the passageways as clear from new undergrowth or fallen branches as possible to ensure that there were accessible routes in, out and around the town, and to take care of any rogue clickers or other infected that might otherwise roam too close to Jackson for comfort. But Ellie knew that there were other reasons for the regularly scheduled runs - to handle any human threats before they came close enough to hit the dam, and though Maria had said that it used to happen with much more frequency than it did now, they also served as rescue missions of sorts, with the patrol members using their discretion to bring survivors back to town. But he said they heard gunshots so… what happened? 

“Well what was it?” She blurted the question, scrunching her lips together afterwards as though she could change the speed with which it left them. 

“Got up there’n found a cluster of dead infected out in front of a house,” he shook his head, “but didn’t see who shot the gun.” He sighed and used one hand to scratch the back of his neck. “So we had to go inside, see what was what.” He stared blankly at his knee, clearing his throat before he continued, voice slightly strained when he did. “Found a woman in one’a the bedrooms.” 

“Oh, fuck. Was she…” Ellie winced. Was she dead? Did she get bit? Did she… 

“No.” He looked up, head moving side to side once. “No, she was alive. Is alive.” He nodded. “Brought her back with us. She’s down at the community center talkin’ to Maria right now actually.” 

“Holy shit, you guys saved her life!” Why does he seem… upset though? 

“Yeah,” he let out a long, slow breath. “I think we did.” 

“Joel?” Ellie tilted her head to the side, sitting forward and resting her elbows on her knees. “What-” 

He narrowed his eyes. “She was just… real low.” He dropped the arm that was still behind his head, that hand absently going to his watch, palm pressed to the shattered face and fingers wrapping around his wrist. “Reminded me of -” His eyes closed for a beat. “Of what it was like when I was alone. Before I got to Boston.” 

Oh. That time in his life wasn’t one that Ellie had heard much of, and she doubted that she was about to now. There were some things that she knew he was still wrestling with from those years. She had some, too, so she understood. “Well…” she swallowed, unsure of what to say next. “Well, she’s… if she stays then she won’t be alone anymore.” And you did that. 

At that, Joel’s features softened, one cheek pulling up into something close to a grin. “Yeah.” He nodded and let out a sigh. “So,” his hand left his wrist to smack lightly against his kneecap. “Anyway, that’s why I am late for movie night, now can we please eat? This smells delicious and I’m starvin’.” 

That made her beam with pride. Even though he seasoned it, all I did was… fuck it. I’m the duck master. “Yeah,” she answered. “But,” standing from the couch, she produced Dawn of the Wolf from her sweatshirt pocket. “Lemme get this goin’ too.” 

Joel laughed around a mouthful of food as she moved towards the tv. “Don’t be disappointed now,” he swallowed what he was eating as Ellie pushed the tray back into the DVD player, the device making an audible spinning sound when she pressed play. “Remember, the girl doesn’t get… how’d you say it?” 

She turned to take her place back on the couch, reaching for her own plate. “Totally gutted?” 

“Yeah,” he took a sip of his water, using the back of his hand to wipe his mouth. “That was it.” 

“I still think that’s kind of a bummer,” she stabbed a piece of duck and brought it to her mouth, shrugging as she bit down and tasted her handiwork. Oh that’s not too bad. Maybe panic cooking is my thing. “But, let’s see what these werewolves are all about.”

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Thank you for reading! If you would like to be added to or removed from the tags for this or any of my stories, please feel free to let me know! You can also fill out the form on my masterlist!

Tags: @something-tofightfor  @littlemisspascal @mishasminion360 @nyctophiliiiiaaa @practicalghost @amb11 @mindidjarin @jk7789 @tentacruels @cannedsoupsucks @harriedandharassed @marauderskeeper @joelmillerscoffee​ @woodlandmouth​ @swtaura​ @grfields​ @valkblue

[star-trekkin-across-theuniverse]

Word Count: 937 Author’s Note: This was one of my first forays into putting my fanfic online. As it is likely obvious from the header, it’s clearly not a Star Trek fic. Hence the entire thing under a read-more cut. There’s a bunch of chapters to this, so if you are interested, it’s super important you let me know, or I probably won’t keep putting this up. If you want me to just shut the fuck up and keep with the Star Trek, that’s okay too - just let me know one way or the other :D Author’s Note, part 2: This is a Steve Rogers x OFC fic, not reader insert.

The thought crossed my mind that had university not been so damned expensive, I never would have found myself in this mess. It crossed my mind as I hit the floor during sparring practice. Despite toeing the party line, and understanding that in a ‘military’ operation, all members of the team needed to be capable of self-defence, I still didn’t quite understand why the nurse needed to be versed in hand-to-hand combat. Running, sure. Ducking, absolutely. Avoiding being killed, you bet. I even agreed that self-defence and target practice were important parts of being job ready. I just didn’t get the hand-to-hand combat part. That’s what the agents were for. That’s what the Avengers were for. I was just there to patch people up after. I found that I thought about this a lot on days when I kissed the mat more than usual. Those days were always assessment days. And while it was reassuring to know I wouldn’t lose my job for being inept at throwing punches, it was still frustrating to have monthly assessments. Particularly when I failed them all so spectacularly.

Still, the job at SHIELD was worth the aches and pains. My degree was paid in full upon on recruitment, and for the most part, I never got into the thick of things. While technically a trauma nurse, I spent most of my time doing annual physicals, patching up owies from the tech department and giving immunizations and tetanus shots. A lot of tetanus shots.

“I think you’ve actually become worse, Lex.” I was pushing myself up off the sparring mat. My trainer, Jackson, grabbed my hand and helped me up.

“Well, it’s not for lack of trying. Can’t we just agree that I shouldn’t be in situations where I could need this skill, and go from there?” I tried my most winning smile. He laughed. Agent Jack Jackson (really, his parents should have been shot) smiled back.

“Even if we just parked you here on the Helicarrier for your entire career, you wouldn’t get away from the need for hand-to-hand. I’ll see what we can do about getting you some more training time. With a better instructor. I’m just not equipped to manage your needs.”

“I’m a helluva nurse, Jack.”

“That you are. If only we could keep you locked away where you would never need to defend youself..”

“Or? You could put the infirmary down the end of a long narrow hallway. Because I’m an awesome shot.” That got Jack laughing. But I was. Learning to shoot a gun had been easy. I’d grown up bow-hunting and winning international youth archery competitions, so the conversion to a handgun had been simple.

“I don’t think we can retrofit the boat to suit the nurse’s needs, but I will talk to Fury about getting you some remedial training. In the meantime, hit the showers and head back to work.”

I grabbed a towel and headed to the locker rooms. I should have felt worse, but the reality was, I was an amazing nurse, and I was passably good at everything combat related. Except hand-to-hand. So I figured since I was capable to dropping a stitch into an open wound in a war zone (and was field tested at that, no less), I wasn’t going to beat myself up over the inability to make a fist with my pathetically small girly-hands. I wasn’t Agent Romanoff, after all. Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t notice I wasn’t alone in the showers until she spoke to me. Romanoff, that is. It was like she’d materialized simply because I had thought of her. Weird.

“Hey, you suck.”

“Yeah? Your patient enters the ER complaining of jaw pain, headache and has an elevated heart rate. What do you do?” I hoped that pointing out our differences would make her back off. She rolled her eyes.

“I don’t expect you to be an awesome fighter. I expect you to be an awesome nurse. I was just gonna say, you know, I could help. If you’ll help me with something.” It didn’t escape my notice that we were chatting about this while naked in the showers. I could just imagine the raunchy commentary from some of the guys.

“Don’t tell me you want to learn first aid.”

“Nope. I want you to take down Barton.”

“The fuck? What? Didn’t we just establish that my hand-to-hand is asstastic at best?” I stopped scrubbing my hair to stare at her.

“We did. But I’ve read your file. And you medalled in archery at the Olympics the year we recruited you.”

“That was 6 years ago.” I rinsed my hair and grabbed a towel. She followed me out of the shower.

“You still shoot. I’ve seen you on the range.”

“And you think I’m better than Barton?”

“At target archery, absolutely. Maybe not in the field.” She shrugged.

“I took down a 400 pound moose with my bow when I was 11.”

“Even better.”

“And you’ll help with my hand-to-hand if I do what, exactly? Beat him at a target competition?”

“Exactly.”

“Why exactly?”

“I love to fuck with his head. Come on, Richmond, it’ll be fun!” She slapped me on the shoulder and headed to her locker.

“I’m sure I’ll regret this, but okay. Since you have access to my file, which is crap, by the way, check when my time off is, and let me know. Gimme a week to practice too. And no exploding magic arrows.” I towelled off, put my scrubs back on and headed to the infirmary, wondering if I was the most stupid woman on the planet.

[youwouldntdownloadapizza]

The Gates of Jackson | Joel Miller x F!Reader | Chapter 4 - Daybreak

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You showed up at the gates of Jackson with hands covered in blood and no memory of how you got there. That was two years ago. Since then, you've become Maria's right-hand woman and the person in charge of Jackson's logistical backend. Patrol schedules, inventory—all your purview. When a patrol gone wrong forces you to get to know Joel, memories of your past begin resurfacing—along with their consequences.

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pairing: joel miller x f!reader

rating: 18+, minors DNI

word count: 1.0k

tags: no use of y/n, eventual smut, no beta we die like sarah, jackson era, other additional tags to be added, slow burn, ellie needs a hug, joel lives, good parent joel, reader-insert, reader insert, forced proximity, only one bed trope, nightmares, childbirth, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, soft joel, cuddling & snuggling, fluff, masturbation, pining, joel falls first, possibly demisexual reader (tbd), ptsd, ptsd flashbacks, panic attacks, amnesia, sexual braiding

chapter warnings: masturbation (m)

Chapter 4 - Daybreak

The first time Joel met you, he imagined you smelled like daisies. He couldn’t be sure, of course. He never got close enough to tell. But in his head, you smelled like them. He was sure of it.

The second time Joel met you, he was even more certain. There was a daisy tucked behind your ear, for Pete’s sake.

The third time he met you, you smelled like hay. That was to be expected, you’d come straight to the dining hall from the stables. But he still reckoned it covered up daisies.

Last night Joel dreamt of different flowers: dandelions. His brain brought him back to a hike he’d gone on with Sarah years ago, up in the mountains where they’d found a huge patch of the yellow sprouts and he’d taught her to make flower crowns. She was better at it than he was, her nimble fingers and natural talent for handicrafts far outpacing his own skills. Still, she wore the crown he made for her like it was a damn tiara. He didn’t have the heart to tell her they were technically weeds.

Joel woke with a smile. He was warm, and cozy, and the haze of sleep soothed his weary soul. His eyes were dry and a little crusty. His mouth tasted vaguely like spaghetti sauce. And the world smelled like daisies.

Daisies.

He opened his eyes with a start, struggling not to make a sudden movement and startle you awake. His nose was buried in your hair, and he wasn’t sure whether the scent of daisies was coming from your shampoo or your laundry detergent or if it was just you , but he didn’t care.

Because he was right. And if Joel Miller loved anything, it was being fucking right.

Despite the vindication, he felt conflicted. Joel wasn’t exactly in the habit of curling up with patrol partners when they’d had a bad dream. This was a dangerous precedent to set.

You rolled over in your sleep, cuddling closer against him. The resulting friction informed him that he was painfully, embarrassingly hard.

Fuck, Joel thought to himself. He had to figure out a way to… deal with this without waking you up. He didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or objectified. He knew it was just a reflex—he was sleeping, he couldn’t control it. But it made him feel like a stupid, horny teenager all over again.

Careful not to wake you, he slipped out of bed. Tiptoeing to the door, he let himself out quietly.

He snuck around back, leaning up against the woodshed. When he glanced up at the treeline, though, he found Bailey and Chestnut staring him down.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he panted, breath fogging up in the early morning chill.

He ducked around to the other side of the shed and freed himself from his jeans. 

It wasn’t you, he thought to himself. It couldn’t be you. It was just a warm body and a soft bed and the fact that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been that close in that way to anybody at all.

He thumbed over his slit, wiping away the bead of precum that wept from his tip. What would you feel like? He wondered, stroking faster. Probably soft, and warm, and wonderful. He was close just thinking about it.

“Stop it,” he smacked himself across the face, struggling to catch his breath. The motion just reminded him of the sore mark you’d left behind last night. Evidence of your touch, evidence of your skin on his.

He came into the dirt a second later. Kicking some loose soil over it and tucking himself away, he looked up to see the first rays of sunrise peeking over the mountaintops. The rays caught on the water in such a way that it seemed to turn to liquid gold before his eyes. 

“Wake up,” Joel shook your shoulder gently.

“Mmm,” you groaned. “What time is it?”

“Don’t matter,” he dragged you out of bed by the hand, guiding your arms into the sleeves of your puffer jacket. “You need to see this.”

By the time you made it outside, all you saw was gray. Clouds had covered up the sunrise, and Joel felt like a fucking fool.

“What am I looking at, exactly?” you asked with a yawn.

Joel frowned, genuinely disappointed the stunning vista had disappeared so quickly. There was so little beauty left in this world. He hated the idea of anyone missing out on what remained.

“Nothing,” he muttered. “It’s gone.”

Breakfast was a quiet affair that morning, the two of you sat huddled around the fireplace like the night before.

“Do beans count as breakfast?” you asked as he took a bite from a can of the refried stuff.

“It’s a fast. I’m breaking it. I’d say it counts.”

You chewed silently for a few moments. Your peaches would have been fine straight out of the can, but Joel had still heated them in the coals. You were grateful for it; they warmed you from the inside.

“We should head up to the fire lookout,” you said. “It’s the highest point on this ridge. If we can find a path uphill, we’ll reach it eventually. I should be able to plot a return route from there.”

He nodded. “I saw an old trailhead when I was out back earlier. Doubt it’s been maintained since well before the outbreak, but it’s a start.”

You nodded in agreement, sprinkling some granola on your peaches.

“Why were you out back earlier?”

Joel’s eyes went wide for a second before he managed to school his expression. 

“Needed to…grab some wood.”

“There’s plenty of wood in here, Joel.”

“We went through a lot last night,” he said, doing his best to sound authoritative. “It would be rude not to replace it.”

You chuckled at that. “Glad to know even in the apocalypse, chivalry’s not dead.”

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