#a bit of a shorter snippet

[shady-tavern]

WIP from “The Shape of a Soul”

Part 1 Here.

In the evening, she sat by the fire, knitting new socks while Aunt Anya told a story, her children listening attentively. She had a lovely voice for it and big, expressive gestures.

"I'll just finish this," Marya said, gesturing at her knitting, when the kids began to nod off and Aunt Anya ushered them off to bed.

"Don't stay up too late," her aunt said, leaning down briefly to press a kiss to the top of her head. "They look great."

"Thanks, I've been trying that new technique Grandma Tanya taught me. Good night." Marya used the last of the fire light to finish the socks and when she stood up to stretch, her back cracking a little, she found herself shivering suddenly.

Frowning, she looked from the slowly dying fire to the window as another shiver ran down her spine. It was too warm in here for her to be cold. Instinctively, she found herself rubbing at her arms as she cautiously stepped towards the window. It was tightly closed, as was the front door, so there was no way any kind of icy draft could have gotten inside.

Another icy shiver ran down her spine, this one strong enough that her teeth almost chattered and she felt as though her breath had gotten caught in her lungs, struggling to be released. 

It was suddenly too cold, the fire snuffing out entirely between one second and the next, leaving only barely glowing embers behind. The crows took flight with a start and they started cawing. Noises she usually considered to be warning sounds.

Peering outside, she saw something pale between the trees, something that revealed itself to be unnaturally thick fog, which rolled past the tree line like one massive wave. It stretched large, wavering fingers between the buildings of Green Rock, as though it was an intangible giant trying to find something on the ground, the edges drifting up against the wooden walls. 

With a start, Marya remembered the warnings of the villager in Stumpton, how monsters had come with the fog. The crows suddenly went mad in the sky, near screeching as they cawed louder than ever before, swooping lower over houses as they flew fast, tight rounds around the village.

Part 3 here.

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

The Principle of Moments

start of a scifi space opera series

a teen girl in the far future where humans are oppressed learns she has a destiny & a lost sister and escapes

and a young time traveler who’s given up trying to find his father through time, and is about to settle in 1812 with the prince he loves, but is unwillingly thrust into the future

they both learn their fates are entangled by a prophecy, and have to race across the galaxy, followed by a galactic emperor and the legacy of heroes from an ancient religion

[hopefuloverfury]

may i request something with Elliott? something fluffy, perhaps? I've had a bit of a bad week and need a pick me up, and your hc list for how the bachelors fell in love was so sweet :') I just had his post-marriage heart event and can't stop thinking about it, so maybe something like that? maybe the moment when he comes home?

I’m sorry you had a bad week, anon. I hope this helps cheer you up a bit, even if it’s a little late. And I hope this week is better! I still haven’t married any of the candidates in my (singular) save file because I love all of them and can’t choose. Ugh. Anyway! Elliott is husband material and I love him.

898 words. Kinda short :( GN!Farmer, pure fluff. A planet made out of squishmallows. A field full of grazing sheep. Pillow stuffing fluttering around you after a pillow fight gets too crazy. So. Much. Fluff. Not beta'd or proofread, sorry about that. I hope you enjoy it anyway <3

Elliott closes the front door behind him, nodding in satisfaction when the lock clicks into place quietly. The house is silent, and Elliott carefully toes off his stuffy dress shoes and abandons his suitcase by the door. He’ll unpack in a bit, but right now he has more pressing matters to attend to.

Slipping on his house shoes, he climbs up to the second floor of the farmhouse. Miso meows from the top of the stairs, greeting him with an eager flick of the tail. Elliott smiles fondly at the gray tabby and scratches under his chin for a moment, before straightening up and making his way to the bedroom. 

Impatience nips at his heels as he pushes the door open, and his breath leaves him all at once at the sight before him.

Yellow morning sunlight streams through the windows, bouncing off the white flannel sheets, and the whole room glows, edges blurred like an old polaroid. At the center of the world is the Farmer, curled up in the middle of the bed with their arms held tight around a pillow. 

His throat closes.

His pillow.

He presses the back of his hand, still chilled from the frigid morning air, to his burning face. The things they do to him, truly.

Collecting the scattered pieces of himself from the floor, Elliott shuffles across the room and kneels beside their bed. Affection ripples in his chest like the surface of a pond disturbed by a fallen leaf as he watches them sleep for a few moments, but then it gets to be too much and he’s moving.

He presses a kiss to the top of their head, and squeezes their shoulder in tandem. They grumble in their sleep, and he smiles into their hair. He leans away as they shift a bit, groggily untucking their face from where they’d smushed it into his pillow, and their eyes flutter open.

“Good morning, gorgeous. I’m back,” Elliott whispers, brushing the pad of his thumb over their cheek as they look up at him. They blink a few times, the sun glaring in their eyes, and he smiles softly, endeared by their initial sleepy confusion. 

He clocks the exact moment the realization dawns on them, and suddenly his arms are very, very full.

He chuckles, hugging them tightly as they bury their face into his neck.

“Elliott,” they whisper, tangling their fingers into his hair, and he sighs happily. Their weight against his chest is a welcome pressure. 

“My love.” He rubs his palms up and down their back, refamiliarising himself with the contours of their body. “Ah, I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too.” Their arms tighten around his shoulders, and he presses a kiss to the side of their head. They pull away, eyes sparkling in the sun. They’re still soft with sleep, a little less alert than usual, and he tightens his grip on their waist. “How was your tour?”

He hums, running the tip of his finger over a loose stitch on the hem of their shirt. “Nothing I didn't already say in my letters. But one drop of the big city and I’m quenched. I much prefer being back here with you.”

He pecks their forehead.

“I really did miss you,” they whisper, cupping his jaw with a calloused palm when he’s settled back. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Elliott shakes his head with a smile. “You know well enough it was the same for me.”

“I do, but—”

The shrill call of the rooster echoes outside, cutting the Farmer off sharply. They frown, a displeased wrinkle appearing between their eyebrows.

Elliott smiles and smooths out the lines on their forehead with gentle fingers. “Don’t be so disappointed, my love. I’m home, but we’ve both got chores to catch up on, hm?”

He makes to pull away, but their arms keep him firmly locked in place. 

“Stay?” They brush a loose strand of hair behind his ear, and tingles shoot down his spine. He nearly shivers. “I already took care of everything.” 

“Of course you did.” He chuckles, petting their side. “But Darling, I must insist. I have to at least feed Miso.”

“All of his bowls are full. I filled them last night, and we can go to the saloon for a late breakfast if you come back to bed with me. When did you get up this morning? Wasn’t your train at four?” Their lips pillow out in a pout, tempting him. Elliott swallows hard. “Please? I almost forgot what sleeping next to you feels like.”

“Well now you’re just playing dirty,” Elliott mutters, reaching to pinch their hips softly. They jerk against him, and the tip of their nose brushes his own. 

“Is it working?” They ask, grinning.

God help him, he is a weak, weak man.

“You know it is, just—let me change.” The farmer hums, smiling like the cat that got the cream as they bring their hands down to grip at the lapels of his suit jacket. He stares at their lips.

“Hurry up then. I wanna cuddle.”

"Yeah." He nods stiffly. “Anything you want.”

[sentientcave]

I concur that Retirement Party is really good

I'm also just excited to see what else your wrinkly brain comes up with

Thanks anon! I'm glad you enjoyed it!

For a quick preview on what else my wrinkly old brain has been working on lately:

Please Say Yes - Chelsea Wren has waited long enough. After a messy divorce (why would Derek wait until after they were married to say he didn't want kids?), she's got her career sorted, her life in order, and she wants to have a baby. It's not like she needs a relationship, not when her handsome neighbour John Price might be willing to give her what she wants, no strings attached. But John wants a lot more- And so do his friends. (Polyam141xOC)

Wildflowers and Honey - Omegaverse Western AU. Kitty Haydon has been content with the way things are. She's lived her whole life in the orchard her grandparents planted, and despite the work, she's happy taking care of things with just her father and hired hands to run things. She's never been one to shy from work. But when an unconventional pack of four alphas buy up the property bordering her farm, she realizes that she might want a lot more than what her father has planned for her. (Polyam141xOC)

Daddy's Girl - Rory "Scout" Price has moved in with her dad after leaving Liverpool and her college boyfriend behind. Price extends the same invitation to Gaz after his divorce. As Gaz and Scout get to know each other, it becomes harder to deny the inconvenient chemistry between them, and harder to keep Price from finding out what's going on behind his back. (GazxOC with background Ghoap)

Sadie Blackmoore-Price // A Feeling That Never Came - Sadie and John have been divorced for nearly twenty years, and she's barely looked back. She raised a wonderful daughter, she's had a long successful career as a politician, and she's got her eye on the Prime Minister's office. So who does John think he is, waltzing back into her life like he'd never been gone? (PricexOC)

The Last One - Sadie finds herself in trouble when ultra-nationalists attack a conference she's attending in Moscow. Luckily, an old friend of John's has been keeping an eye on her, and Nik helps her escape the attack. But when trouble follows, they realize that Sadie was the target and getting her safely back to England will be trickier than Nik thought. And once he gets her there, will he be able to let her go? (NikxOC)

[landinrris]

How does this keep happening to me?

[ladydragonkiller]

A prompt: i would love to hear the tea party gossip 👀👀👀

“And That Is Why The Dining Room Is Currently In A State Of Disarray!” The Toy Soldier finished. It reached up to adjust its hat, which had begun to tilt from its rather enthusiastic storytelling.

Raphaella eyed the splotch on the tablecloth where Ashes’ teacup had spilled due to a particularly vigorous gesture. All her time in her lab, not to mention in the whistle-clean archives, made her itch to clean it up. The Toy Soldier didn’t seem to mind it, though, and it would probably be rude to reach over Ashes in order to get at it.

Probably. 

“I had wondered about that,” Brian replied. “Mostly figured it was because of some food fight I just hadn’t heard about.” He paused. “I mean, I suppose it was. Just not the sort I was picturing.”

Ashes leaned back, a wise look on their face. “A hint for you. If Tim is ever asking around about fancy pastries and the like, something’s up. Any day he isn’t waxing poetic ‘bout the glories of military rations is a day to note.”

“There Were Rations At The Dinner, Too! I Was Able To Find Some In The Rubble Afterwards.”

Raphaella tilted her head. “Wait, Ashes, how did you know Tim was asking about fancy pastries? No offense, but you’re not the first person I think of when I think of desserts.”

Ashes smirked. “The stove was malfunctioning, so he came to me for help with. . .alternative solutions.”

Well, that was just rude. Raphaella had bunsen burners aplenty in her lab, it would hardly have been a trial to let him use one of them. She’d not exactly been busy, just some routine tinkering around.

Then again, last time Marius had tried to heat up a snack in her lab, the results had been. . .long-lasting. And well-publicized. Look, she hadn’t known for sure that Marius would mutate quite so efficiently.

Anyways, she supposed it made sense. Ashes was unbeatable if you needed something heated up, as long as you could stop them from burning the object in question. Unless Tim wanted it burned. Unlikely, but not impossible.

“Why were you looking for rations in the rubble?” Brian asked, elbow creaking as he picked up his teacup. He went to take a sip, then frowned and set the cup back. 

“Do You Need A Refill?” The Toy Soldier didn’t wait for an answer before standing up and pouring Brian a new cup of tea.

“I mean, yeah, but-”

“I Also Heard The Spiders Have Been Quite Rowdy Recently!”

“Oh, is it nearly time for the negotiation?” Ashes asked. They were fiddling with something under the table. Probably their lighter. Raphaella could only hope the tablecloth wouldn’t be set ablaze, though the tea spill from earlier might help in that case. 

“Negotiation?”

“You haven’t been around for one of them yet.”

“The Spiders And Aurora Sing A Song To Each Other, A Song Of Wires And Nerves And Skittering Feet. A Song Of Building And Growing And Infinitesimal Change! And Every So Often Jonny Hears The Song And Wants To Sing Along, But He Doesn’t Know The Tune As Only A Spider Can, Sunk Deep Within Their Skeletons Like Love And Life And Instinct And Fear. So Their Queen Yells At Him Until He Goes Away!”

“I-huh. Okay?” Raphaella was going to have to think about that one. Maybe see if Ivy had more information about those spiders, or if she could arrange an interview with one of them. “Wait, if only a spider can know the tune, how come Aurora is able to sing the song back?”

Ashes shrugged. “You are what you eat.”

“What?”

“Anyone want the last sandwich?” Brian gestured to the nearly empty platter, lone sandwich resting on the very edge of it. “Don’t think it’d store well.”

“You May Have It, Dear Drumbot! I Would Be A Terrible Host If I Allowed A Guest To Walk Away Hungry!”

He leaned forward to take it, hat shifting forward as he did. Unfortunately, it shifted right into Ashes’ hat. Raphaella wasn’t clear on the ensuing order of events, but when the proverbial dust cleared, Ashes was face down on the table, bowed under the weight of two hats. All three remaining teacups had been knocked over, and the last sandwich was safe and secure under Brian’s cupped hand. At least the splotches were symmetrical now.

“And That Concludes Our Show! Thank You Very Much For Coming, Darlings! You May Keep The Hats,” The Toy Soldier said, gently plucking Brian’s hat off of Ashes’ head and handing it back to him. “They Are Gifts!”

Ashes slowly sat up, eyes bleary. “What just happened?”

Raphaella could only shrug.

[sunkeeperxiv]

FFXIV Write '23 Day 2: Bark

A heated but brief encounter with a Lupin after battle.

Stormblood (4.0) spoilers/timeframe; ~950 words.

Daca’li threaded through the crowds behind Lyse as they made their way through Ala Mhigo to the plaza where the Doman contingent had made their camp. Around them the Resistance were celebrating the city’s liberation, shoulder to shoulder with the Domans and the Eorzean Alliance, with carousing, drinking and dancing lasting long into the night.

Daca’li found himself less than eager, after all the events of the day, to join in the most raucous of the celebrations. Even as joyous as they were, every shout and cheer, every congratulatory clap on the back or enthusiastic expression of gratitude, had jangled against his nerves until he’d elected to find a quiet, secluded balcony to observe the celebrations from. Lyse, however, had tracked him down and requested he come with her to properly thank Hien for his timely arrival. That would likely be a less chaotic meeting, he reasoned, and so he accompanied her there.

As it happened, the Doman contingent, or what part of it hadn’t already filtered out to join the wider celebrations, were no less enthusiastic in their celebrations than any of the other soldiers. Conversation and alcohol flowed freely in equal measure, and more than a few of the soldiers were in the later stages of drunkenness.

They were halfway across the plaza when one such soldier staggered past Daca’li, weaving unsteadily around and behind him— or, attempting to, at least. The knock to his shoulder Daca’li could have forgiven, under the circumstances. The sharp pain that began at the tip of his tail and shot straight up his spine, he was less tolerant of.

He whirled around, teeth bared, to find one of the former Ferae Domitae swaying from side to side behind him. The soldier had already divested himself of all his Garlean armor except the dark, sashed trousers, and he was expending a great deal of effort on holding a tankard steady in one hand, without much success. He looked down at Daca’li as if only now realizing he was there.

“Out of the way,” he slurred, waving the tankard at Daca’li wildly enough to make it clear it was mostly, if not entirely, empty already. “Make way for a mighty warrior of Doma.”

Daca’li flared his ears and clenched a fist, flicking his tail behind him in an effort to soothe the throbbing tip. Behind him he could hear Lyse telling him to let it go, but he was in no mood. “Y’need to watch where you’re going. My tail ain’t a cobblestone.” All the tension of the past few hours had vanished, coalesced down into one point firmly centered on this one clumsy, unlucky soldier.

The lupin bared his own teeth in response to Daca’li’s silent challenge, puffing out his chest. “I slew many Garleans today, small one. I suggest you show me the respect I am due. I could give you a demonstration of my might, if you need convincing.” His words trailed off into a deep, unsteady growl. Daca’li could feel the vibrations of an answering growl rising in his own throat, could taste the familiar sting of blackened fire at the back of his tongue. Still, he was the Warrior of Light. Hero of the people. He couldn’t quite allow himself to vent his frustration at the fool in front of him, no matter how tempting it was or how satisfying it would be to throw him directly on his own stub of a tail.

Not without proper provocation, at least.

A circle had formed around them, some soldiers murmuring to each other with worry and others cheering and hollering. With his fellows urging him on, the lupin only grew bolder, letting his jaw hang open in a snarl. When that didn’t serve to scare Daca’li off, he threw his tankard to the ground and stepped forward, voice sharp and harsh, almost a savage bark. “Well!?” Daca’li’s response was to drop his own jaw in a loud hiss, fully ready to send the fool flying.

“Makutsu!” The name cut through the din and chaos of the crowd with ease, the voice itself not as familiar as the tone of command it carried. Hakuro cut through the crowd with ease, followed by Hien, and fixed his disapproving gaze on his subordinate. The difference this made in Makutsu’s posture was immediate; he leaned back, clearly taken by surprise.

“Lord Hakuro! I was defending my honor, sir—“ Hakuro waved his hand dismissively.

“You are picking a fight with Eorzea’s Warrior of Light, Makutsu. Liberator of Doma and Khagan of the Azim Steppe. The only thing you have less of than honor is brains. Go find your tent and sleep off your drink.”

Daca’li relaxed somewhat, feeling his bristling fur stand down as Lyse put a calming hand on his shoulder. “I could have… handled that more graciously, I suppose,” he said, softly. Hien laughed heartily behind Hakuro.

“There is a great energy in the air tonight, my friend! I doubt any of us are in possession of our best judgment just now.” With that he turned around, motioning for Lyse and Daca’li to follow them somewhere quieter. The crowd dispersed slowly, many of them bowing or saluting before Daca’li as they passed, despite having called for his trouncing only moments before.

Daca’li took a deep breath and followed. It was a decent enough reminder, he supposed, to keep his head about him, even here. The soldiers around them could relax and celebrate, their battle fought and won, but he could hardly stop being who — or what — he was. The Warrior of Light. Their hero.

His tail still hurt.

[slepyicarus]

Mc Monday

Man i missed writing these. They really are fun! So! I will use them to get back into my creative flow (hopefully)

As always credit for the challenge is to the kind @obeythedemons i love his stuff

Prompt: Asmo wants to try out a new style of makeup, but he wants to see how it’d look on MC first. Does MC let him? What happens?

Tags: ooc asmo (i suck at writing him. I'm sorry), established relationship, meantions of Icarus being on the trans spectrum, skin condition and problems connected to it

"Doing this Spa-Day was an amazing idea, Asmo. I really needed that..", Icarus sighed happily while leaning into the pretty devilgram influencer who giggled on response. "I knew this would help you, Darling~! And look how good your skin looks now! It doesn't itch as bad as the last days does it?" "Not one bit. Thank you, Sweets. Can you help me order more of my vitamins later too? I still struggle to understand Akuzon..", the younger demon smiled.

"Of course! Then we can also get that hand cream I read about for your dermatitis. Now~ how about we make ourselves pretty and go to that gala that's happening tonight? We also can just make ourselves pretty and relax if your not up for people, Sweetheart.", Asmo purred while cuddling up to Icarus. The half demon in question hummed, intertwining their hands"So you wanna try a new make-up look on me because I'm a similar shade as you." Smiling the lust demon waited. Icarus sighed "Alright i let you do it as a treat for the relaxing day. Especially since you did something to keep all your brothers away with their never stopping arguing." "You really dislike the arguing, don't you Darling? I mean i understand it's really bad for you to try and calm everyone down constantly. And your Skin is already naturally so stressed!" "Yeah..but that's a story for another day. I already trauma dumped a lot today.", Icarus sighed, something he noticed he did a lot more since coming to the Devildom, "Now, I bet u also decided outfits for us already"

"And done! Darling, you look so beautiful! And we match so nicely!", Asmo gushed softly spinning Icarus so he can see himself.

It was the first time in years he wore a dress as well as slight heels and actually enjoyed it. Holding his own face slightly out of excitement Icarus couldn't stop himself as smile brightly just like a kid seeing a toy they wanted since forever on Christmas Eve.

"Thanks Asmo..You don't even know how much this matters to me..", Icarus almost whispered slightly wagging his everpresent tail, "It feels so nice to wear a dress again without having to fear being discriminated or told I'm just pretending.." Hugging Icarus from behind Asmo smiled warmly "Of Course Ru. And don't worry. I won't let anyone disrespect your gender identity. Your safe with me." Leaning back into the other Icarus closed his eyes and enjoyed the closeness.

"I know, my Avatar of Love."

[citadelss]

Just about done with the next chapter, so that should be out soon :)

[washeduphazbin]

Hello! I really loved the Adam x Reader Wife interaction hehehe reminds me too much of the dialogue: -You're an Idiot. -Yes... But I'm YOUR idiot... And forever 😌 Can we see a little more of this relationship?

You ABSOLUTELY can because it's the only thing on my mind since writing it. This will mostly be snippets of fluff between Adam and a female reader from my last one-shot. This is much shorter, but I wanted to give more of this dynamic before I work on a bit of a longer request someone sent in for them during the finale.

TLDR: Welcome to the Adamverse

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

"So this absolute cunt really thought it'd be okay to take one look at me and suggest that those Losers in hell can really make it into heaven and be redeemed!" You hummed as Adam sat with his head in your lap, complaining about his musical meeting with Charolette Morningstar. He looked up at you through his black lashes with a pout on his lips; you very clearly weren't paying attention. You had a book in your hands, which was taking more of your attention than Adam was taking up.

Now, that was something he couldn't let happen.

Your book was thrown halfway across the room in one swift movement, "Adam." You huffed, looking down at his innocent face, twirling his brown hair around his finger.

"Reading will rot your brain." He brought a clawed hand to his head and made a crazy motion against his temple.

"Pretty sure you've got that backward, darling." You felt his wings shiver under your touch as you stroked them tenderly, finally giving him your undivided attention. He stretched out in your lap like an oversized cat; Adam hummed pleasantly,

"Readings for losers, and my wife is not a loser." He shot back, yelping as you tugged on one of his feathers. "You bitch, the fuck was that for!"

"You seem to forget how much your bitch wife loves to read fuckhead." You shot back with a dirty look,

"Jesus, what's got your panties in a twist! I'm the one who had a rough day. First, I got blue balled and couldn't get to finish inside your sweet pus, and then I had to go to the most painful meeting of my life with the biggest doe-eyed fool I've met since her father. Now my wife is ignoring me when I'm clearly in distress." He watched in amusement as you tossed your head back with a sigh; you...his favorite winner. You caught the softer look in his eyes as you glanced down at him,

"Adam, you know I love you more than anything."

"I'm aware of how great I am, yes- if you keep giving me those bedroom eyes, I'm not going to be able to hold back."

"Glaring Adam. I'm glaring at you. I in no way want to fuck you right now."

"Impossible. No one ever glares at me AND no one ever doesn't want to fuck the fuck master; I'm a goddam delight, sugar."

He watched you take a deep breath of air in, "You did not just call yourself the 'fuck master.'"

"Ugh, duh, of course, I did. I am the fuck master. I've never heard you complain about this dick babe."

"You're an idiot."

"Ugh, duh. But I'm your idiot, forever." He mused, wiggling his fingers with his wedding ring on it. "Because you're gross, and you love me,"

"Unfortunately."

"HEY!" He sat up, brows furrowing in frustration. His jaw was set in a way you only recognize as a moment of slight panic and stress. "The fucks that supposed to mean?" You sucked in a small intake of breath, cupping his cheeks between your palms. He glared at you but still nuzzled against the soft palms of your hands.

"Darling." You spoke softly, moving to rest your forehead against Adam's, "I love you. I wouldn't want to be with any other person in heaven, hell, or on earth." His eyes softened, and you could see his face drop, "You're annoying as hell. But so am I; that's like our thing." You gave a crooked grin, nuzzling your nose against his, only to nuzzle his nose right back against yours. "I love you and that you're trying to keep everyone here safe and protected."

"I am; I want to keep you safe. You don't belong down there with them, and they don't belong here with us." He nodded rapidly, "You're so...good."

"You're giving me far too much credit, I didn't do drugs, and I didn't kill anybody when I was alive. I wasn't like a saint."

"You're a saint to me." You felt your cheeks burn, and you hit Adam gently with your wings; you saw his face light up and snicker. "What? You are. My saintly wife," You let out a strangled sound of embarrassment as he began to pepper kisses against your face. "Who's so good at praying on her knees-"

"And you ruined it." Adam tossed his head back in a laugh, pulling you close to his chest. You hummed as he nuzzled his face into your breasts, “Adam?”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

“Love you too.”

[vivwritescrappythings]

saying thanks

joel miller x afab!fem!reader

Joel is your grumpy patrol partner who doesn’t even talk to you in the streets of Jackson. But one night a man grabs your arm at the Tipsy Bison, and Joel’s decided he doesn’t like it.

tw: smut, fem reader, afab reader, unspecified age gap, reader is smaller than Joel (shorter, can be picked up by him), oral (m! receiving), p in v sex, crying, fighting, blood, drinking, Joel may be out of character but I don’t care, not proofread.

Word count: 8.1k

masterlist

MDNI!

—

Joel was seething. You’d never seen him like this, rage burning in his gaze and his hands balled into fists at his sides as he was pushed toward the door. Of course you’d seen him in fights before, dealing with raiders and infected on patrol was a bloody business at best, but the second the new guy, Jake? Jack, at the Tipsy Bison put a hand on you—just touching your arm—Joel exploded.

You didn’t even have time to blink before the man grabbing your arm was on the ground, ugly bruises blossoming on his face. You didn’t even launch into action to get Joel off of him, shock leaving you frozen. You only remained plastered against the bar, gaping at Joel’s savage expression and the way his fists bludgeoned Jack's face. The drink in your hand spilled over the sides a bit, a sticky combination of fruit juice and alcohol coating your skin and absorbing in the sleeve of your sweater.

You were already tipsy, your face hot and your eyes a bit glassy. You were more loose with your expressions, the careful filter you kept starting to deteriorate. By the time a bar fight broke out, you were already more than a few drinks in, your heart pounding in your chest along with the soft music and a thin layer of sweat starting to prickle at the back of your neck.

Joel had stayed quiet that night, sticking to the secluded booth in the back of the bar that he usually haunted. There was no acknowledgement of each other, his chocolate-colored eyes had landed on you for a moment when you walked in, shadowed over by his dark brow in its permanent scowl. As always, he didn’t speak to you despite the fact that you spent most mornings together patrolling the outskirts of Jackson.

He wasn’t your biggest fan, even going so far as to complain to his brother when the two of you had been assigned together. Tommy was giving you a shot on the patrol, you were newer to Jackson and needed a job. You could handle a gun and didn’t seem completely clueless, so he figured he would stick you with Joel to see if you made it out on the other side.

But, nevertheless, Joel was now being pulled off Jack by a few other patrons. They hauled him up by the collar of his canvas jacket, his knuckles bloodied and a snarl on his face as Jack scrambled away. You still stood wide-eyed and dopey, your voice caught in your throat as you struggled for something to say.

Joel wouldn’t look at you, eyes drilling into Jack as he was shoved toward the door. He kept hissing threats through his teeth, snippets of ‘I’ll break your fucking arm if you ever touch her again,’ audible above the music as he grappled with the men trying to contain him.

Your gaze traced the outline of his aquiline nose, the way his lips were pursed beneath his dark mustache. It was a struggle to push him out the door. You flinched when it slammed shut behind him, spilling more of your drink.

“You better get your damn dog on a leash.” It was one of the older women in the neighborhood, her brows drawn and a disgusted expression on her face as she regarded you. You finally snapped out of your shocked stupor, looking at Jack’s bloodied and swollen face as he was picked up and put into a booth.

What was Joel even thinking?

You downed your drink in a few gulps, setting the empty glass on the bar before pushing yourself away from the bar top. Wind swept inside the Tipsy Bison as you forced the door open, providing a moment of relief from the humid heat of the bar. It was starting to get cold out, dried leaves swirling in the breeze as autumn settled into the bones of Jackson.

You shivered, wrapping your arms around yourself as you peered out into the darkness. The leaves crunched under your shoes as you took a few tentative steps, the sweater you wore offering you little protection from the wind.

Joel leaned against the wall of a nearby business, his head tilted back and his throat bared to the dim light of the moon. He was sucking in deep breaths through his mouth, his bloody knuckles limp at his sides. His jacket was off-kilter from where he’d been thrown out the door, his hair mussed.

“Joel?” You approached him like you would a wild animal, on high alert and prepared for any sudden movement.

He looked at you with a bored expression, the moonlight catching on the silver hair that splintered at his temples and in his patchy beard. You hesitated, stopping your approach for a moment before pressing on until you were a few feet in front of him. His dark curls stuck up in every direction, they were a little long now that winter was approaching.

“What the hell was that?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest as your weight settled so one hip popped out to the side. You sounded more aggressive than you intended to, the words coming out like an accusation rather than a question.

It was times like this that made the age and size difference between you and Joel apparent. He stood up straight, towering over you a bit as he cleared his throat. Sometimes he made you feel like you were still just a dumb teenager instead of a woman in her mid twenties. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, his voice a deep grumble with a slight southern twang to it.

A scoff leaves your mouth before you can even stop it, the alcohol reducing your filter to near non-existence. “What do you mean, Joel? I watched you beat the shit out of that guy for what? Touching my arm?” You were a little too loud, your voice ricocheting off the buildings around you. Under different circumstances, you would have cringed and apologized immediately, but something forced you to soldier on.

Thankfully no one else was outside that night—it was too cold and still too early for the Tipsy Bison to have a last call. It felt like a standoff. His dark eyes were trained on your face, his mouth drawn into a scowl. You usually backed down to him, acquiescing to his stubborn nature.

“And so what if it was?” Joel grumbled, his attitude matching your own. The way he crossed his arms made his biceps bulge under the fabric of his jacket—your breath hitched for a moment before you glanced away.

You shook your head, disbelief coloring your expression as his words settled in. “You don’t even like me!” You can’t help but gesture wildly, your hands moving like they had minds of their own.

He ignored you regularly. There was an unspoken rule of only acknowledging one another on patrols together. The woods outside of Jackson were the only place that Joel would actually talk to you, otherwise you acted like perfect strangers in town.

His jaw clenched as he pushed off the wall, taking a few steps closer to you. “Who said I didn’t like you?” he asked, his voice lower as his head dipped toward yours.

He couldn’t be serious.

Your eyebrows shot up, disbelief making you smile incredulously. “What, so ignoring me in public and complaining about me to Tommy is how you treat your friends?” You were moments away from leaving and letting Joel find a new patrol partner.

You spent too much time defending Joel from his reputation as the town pariah, arguing that he wasn’t the animal everyone thought he was. He had a hard time blending in, bigger than most everyone except for his brother and unapproachable to a fault. It seemed that Tommy and Ellie were the only people he willingly spoke to, otherwise keeping largely to himself.

Sometimes you wondered if he heard the rumors going around about him—speculation that he used to be a hunter, a smuggler, a heartless killer. You never had it in you to ask him about it.

Not that he would tell you, anyways.

Joel’s scowl deepened, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. His silence did nothing but rile you up, it felt like an admission to the fact that you were right. You huffed, the autumnal breeze making dried leaves stick to your jeans and your breath clouding in the air.

“Well, Joel, you should really figure out how to act like an adult,” you snapped, shaking your head as you started to turn away from him. “You’re way too old to be beating up boys at a bar for touching someone you don’t even give a damn about.”

The Tipsy Bison called to you, warm light spilling out the windows and the people moving inside. Your friends were still in there, giggling with one another at the bar. You could see others nursing Jack in a booth, pressing ice wrapped in towels against his face as his blood turned them pink.

“I didn’t like how he was grabbing ya,” Joel finally said after you’d taken a few steps away. The admission made you stop in your tracks, looking back over your shoulder at the man. He looked sheepish as he admitted it, his gaze on the floor like a toddler getting scolded. He cleared his throat, taking a deep breath before redirecting his eyes to the sky. “You didn’t… you didn’t hear how he was talking about you… didn’t want you with a guy like that.”

Your eyebrows shot up, your lips parting slightly. Your head tilted up to look at him properly, eyes narrowed slightly as you evaluated him. He seemed shockingly sincere, the awkward expression on his face sealing the deal. “Careful Joel, I’m almost starting to think you care about me.”

There was something in the way his eyes shifted to meet yours that almost made your heart stop.

“Never said I didn’t care,” he mumbled, one of his baseball mitt hands coming to rub the back of his neck. The blood on his knuckles was drying, turning to a rust color under the moonlight. You couldn’t help but purse your lips, tilting your head to one side. It was hard to understand, the alcohol making you feel like you were buzzing as you mulled over Joel’s words.

He cleared his throat again, shuffling a little closer to you in the process. “When I talked to Tommy, I wasn’t complainin’ about you,” Joel said. His cheeks were flushed, making you wonder if he was cold or just from the alcohol. He was notorious for sucking down bourbon like it was water, especially on nights when he had nothing to do the next day.

“You weren’t?” you asked, probing the older man a bit. You had only walked by when Joel was talking to his brother, catching your name in their hushed whispers and Joel’s strained expression. You’d assumed it was because he was stuck with you, a newer recruit, a woman.

Joel sighed, shaking his head. It felt like you were pulling every word from his throat. “Tommy… he uh… he put us together because he thought it would be good for me,” he said, hesitating between parts of his sentence. “Thought you’d be good for me.”

“Good for you?” The alcohol made your voice soft around the edges, the question tumbling out of you before you had the sense to stop it. Joel stepped closer, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. He was close enough that you could see the scar on his ear, the scars littering his bloodied hands and the ones across his nose. Sure, you’d seen them on patrol as you walked shoulder to shoulder, but for some reason you find yourself trying to memorize every detail about him in the moonlight.

“Yeah, sweetheart, good for me,” Joel mumbled, looking down at his boots for a moment before making eye contact with you again. Sweetheart. The nickname rattled around in your mind, echoing in time with your heartbeat. You would’ve punched anyone else for calling you sweetheart, but it sounded good coming from Joel.

Your face heated up, an odd smile quirking up the corners of your mouth as you struggled to find words to say. “You’re a liar, Joel,” you manage to spit out.

He let out a chuckle, the kind that hardly made any noise and just let out a sharp breath of air. You earned one every now and then, it always made you beam when you could get him to chuckle on patrol. “Yeah? I could’ve switched a long time ago,” Joel murmured, shrugging his broad shoulders. “Tommy offered to let me switch.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, a sliver of your combative nature rising up your throat. You wanted to argue with the older man, inform him that he was wrong.

Joel must have picked up at the way your jaw twitched, your expression twisting. “It’s nice to listen to ya blabber in the mornings,” he said, his tone lighter than it had been. It was almost easy to forget what happened in the Tipsy Bison, the way you watched him beat Jack’s face into a pulp.

You huffed, shaking your head. There was a small smile on your face as the heat continued to rise on your cheeks. “Then why do you act like I’m a stranger when I see you around?” you asked Joel. You scraped your teeth over your lower lip, scuffing the toe of your shoe in the dirt.

Joel’s face fell a bit, his eyes softening as he became serious once more. “You don’t want to be around me anyways, people would judge ya.” It was like he didn’t want to admit it, his voice low and mumbling.

You hummed your disagreement, deciding to be bold and step even closer to the huge man in front of you. He towered a head over most people in Jackson, strong and wide and sturdy. You looked over his tanned, weathered skin, his dark curls that were starting to show age through scattered silver strands. “You don’t seem too bad to me,” you said, nearly a whisper.

You saw how Ellie looked at him like he was her favorite person in the world. If that girl could trust him, then so could you.

Joel’s warmth radiated onto you in the cool evening, the smell of bourbon on his breath and blood on his hands. He shook his head, maintaining the closeness you’d established. “Sweetheart, you know most of the shit they say about me around this town is true.”

You’d figured as much. You’d watched Joel kill raiders without a blink of an eye and jump into action whenever infected approached the high, protective walls around Jackson. The first time you’d witnessed it, his precision took your breath away. Now it was something that you had come to depend on.

“I assumed as much,” you said with a shrug, folding your arms over your chest and tucking your hands under your armpits to keep them warm. “Never mattered to me,” you said, biting the inside of your cheek for a moment.

You considered going back to the bar to avoid the chill, but you didn’t feel like having to answer questions about you and Joel all night. Everyone would want to know what he said to you out here, would have their own ideas about why he did it. There were a few breaths of silence. “But, I should probably go home.”

“Not gonna go back inside?” Joel asked, nodding his chin toward the Tipsy Bison. His gaze was still focused on you. You thought about it for a moment before shaking your head, glancing back at the bar. It had lost its appeal.

“Just home, Joel. Have a good night… thanks for protecting my honor and stuff,” you said with a small smile. There was a lightness in the way you spoke, your eyes sparkling in the darkness.

You started to walk toward your house, living in the opposite direction from Joel. “Make sure you clean up those hands of yours, don’t want to have to get another patrol partner any time soon,” you said without looking back, dead leaves crunching under your feet with each step.

You heard his heavy footfalls behind you until Joel fell into step at your side. “Mind helping me out? Not great at first aid,” he said, holding his knuckles out in front of him. They were blown apart.

“Jesus, Joel,” you muttered, grabbing one of his wrists to inspect his hand as you walked. His wrist was warm and thick in your hand, he didn’t pull away. The wounds overlapped a number of scars beneath them, a snippet of Joel’s past violence. “Were you trying to kill him or just teach him a lesson?”

“I don’t pull my punches,” Joel said with a noncommittal shrug, making you roll your eyes. Of course he didn’t. Joel definitely taught him a lesson. You dropped his wrist, not giving him a response as you followed the path to your home.

Your house was one of the smaller ones, the yellow paint starting to peel off the siding and the wall around Jackson casting a shadow over it in the moonlight. Joel was grumbling about your proximity to the wall as you opened your front door and flicked on the lights.

“Take off your boots before you track mud in, I’ll meet you in the kitchen,” you tell Joel, toeing your shoes off before you head to one of the bathrooms. You can still hear him complaining as his heavy boots hit the floor, his lumbering footsteps going to the kitchen. The layout for all of the homes in Jackson was relatively the same, the sub-development it had been converted from seemed fairly cookie-cutter.

Joel sat patiently at the counter as you brought in the first aid kit, setting it down on the stone countertop and flicking it open. He seemed calm and unconcerned, more like a seasoned veteran to first aid than a novice. “I find it hard to believe that you’re bad at this,” you murmured, opening an alcohol wipe to start cleaning his knuckles.

Joel placed his big, catcher’s mitt hands flat on the counter for you to work. His jaw tensed a few times as you wiped over the largest knuckle on each of his hands. “I’m here for your gentle touch, sweetheart,” he muttered, sarcasm biting his tone and making you laugh.

“I’m not a nurse for a reason,” you said, smearing ointment onto the wounds with your fingertips. You tried to be careful, not applying too much pressure to the irritated skin.

Joel chuckled, watching your movements as you pulled out a roll of gauze and loosely wrapped his wounds to cover them. He flexed his hands as soon as you were finished, the gauze stretching tight when he made fists. “Good as new,” you said, leaning against the countertop. You both looked down at his bandaged wounds, lingering in the closeness before you stepped away.

“Now, you should hold off on bar fights for a while.” Mirth glittered in your eyes as you grabbed a wine bottle from one of the shelves in your kitchen. You grabbed two glasses without asking, methodically going through the motions of opening the bottle and pouring.

It felt like you and Joel were sprinting head-first at a line the two of you had never crossed before. There was a shift from coworkers to something else, and it started the second Joel pounced on Jack. You found yourself studying his face as you handed him a wine glass, categorizing his features as you took a sip. He was handsome, but he always had been—you just didn’t let yourself recognize it.

“No promises,” Joel grumbled, taking a long drink. You watched him swallow, your eyes partially lidded before you remembered yourself. You felt your cheeks and ears heat up as you took another drink, unclenching your fist at your side and focusing on the stretch of the bones and ligaments.

“You really didn’t need to beat Jack up, I can handle myself,” you murmured, your lashes fluttering as you redirected your gaze to Joel.

He just snorted softly, shaking his head. His expression twisted into amusement, the papery wrinkles of his crow’s feet becoming pronounced. Your brows furrowed, your head tilting as you prepared to argue the fact that you could, in fact, defend yourself. “His name is Jake.”

Embarrassment made blood rush to your face so quickly you almost felt light headed. A sheepish smile settled on your features, a giggle working its way through your throat. “He even let me call him Jack like… five times the other day,” you said into your wine glass, a guilty look on your face.

“Poor boy’s got it bad then,” Joel said, smirking at you. His dark eyes appeared even darker in the lighting of your kitchen.

“Don’t worry, I think you scared him enough,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully. You picked your glass up off the counter, walking out of the kitchen to your cozy living room.

Joel came to sit on the couch as you stoked a fire to life, burning some of the dried kindling you kept in a bucket near the fireplace to coax the logs to life. You could feel his eyes on your back as you crouched, the flames breathing warmth over you as they crackled. The combination of his gaze, the fire, and the wine you kept sucking down in mouthfuls made a sweat prickle at the back of your neck as you stood up straight.

He made himself comfortable, lounging on the couch with an arm draped on the back of it. He’d brought the bottle of wine, it sat on the coffee table next to his empty glass. One of your eyebrows arched as you sat next to him, leaving enough space between the two of you that you could twist and bring your knees and feet up onto the sofa.

“You really made yourself at home.”

Joel cracked an easy smile, the fire illuminating the deep shadows of scowl lines on his forehead. You felt the urge to smooth them out with your fingertips. “I’ve got a habit of doing that,” he said, his dark gaze sliding to the fireplace. One of the logs popped, sending sparks through the hearth.

There was a lapse of silence where you reached over and filled up his wine glass again. You felt surprisingly comfortable next to him, relaxing your side against the cushioned back of the couch as you faced Joel. “The ladies at the Tipsy Bison called you my guard dog.”

That made him outright snicker. “Yeah? I’m your guard dog, huh?” he asked, clearly teasing. The way his flannel clung to his shoulders was heavenly, wrapped around every well-defined muscle like a second skin. The wine was staining his mouth purple, you were enraptured as his tongue darted out to catch any remaining drops on his lips.

You cleared your throat, blinking as you nodded. “Said I should get you on a leash,” you mumbled, the heat on your cheeks spreading to your neck and ears. You gulped the wine to break some of the tension, your nose scrunching as you swallowed.

There was a shift, it would’ve gone unnoticed if you weren’t paying attention.

Joel stretched a bit, tilting his head back as he finished the rest of the wine in one gulp before setting the glass on the coffee table. When he sat back, he’d moved closer to you. Your knee was nearly touching his thigh, that inch of empty space feeling electric.

“Do you want me on a leash?” he asked, his voice deep. There was something different to his tone, the harsh edges of his voice rounded out more than usual. The question made your breath stutter in your chest. The sincerity in his expression caught you off guard. You opened your mouth to speak, only silence coming out. “If there was anyone who could convince me, it would probably be you, sweetheart.”

You choked on your wine, awkward and clumsy as you sat up straight to prevent it from coming out of your nose. Part of you felt like Joel had turned you inside out as you spluttered, confusion and self-consciousness running rampant.. Finally you got a hold of yourself, sucking in wet breaths with tears in your eyes.

“You okay?” His voice was sweet and soft when he asked, as though he hadn’t caused it. You nodded, waiving off his concern as his paw of a hand grabbed your shoulder. His touch was napalm, igniting your skin through your thin sweater.

“Just surprised me,” you choked out, wiping away the tears with the heel of your hand as you sniffled. Joel’s hand stayed where it was, his thumb rubbing along your collarbone over the black fabric. He did nothing but hum his acknowledgement, patiently waiting for you to catch your breath.

Another cough rattled through you before you could breathe again. Joel’s eyebrows were raised as he watched you, mirth sparkling in his eyes. “You are so full of shit, Joel Miller,” you finally said, pushing his shoulder lightly.

He still was touching you, leaning forward into your space as he did so. Your breaths were shallow, apprehensive and giddy in all the right ways.

“You think I’m full of shit?” he asked, smirking.

“I know you are.” You couldn’t help but flirt, batting your eyelashes and smirking at Joel. You felt electric, lightning just crackling under your skin with the potential thrill of him reciprocating. Sure, you were risking a decent work relationship, but you could get a new patrol partner.

He hummed thoughtfully, his hand creeping toward the back of your neck. The stretch of his fingers to the meat of his palm spanned nearly three-quarters of the circumference of your throat, something that should’ve chilled you to the bone. Excitement sparked in your belly as you swallowed against the firm press of his thumb on your windpipe.

“You don’t seem like an ‘on the leash’ kind of guy,” you murmured, the feeling of the gauze you’d wrapped around his knuckles rubbing against your soft skin making you shiver slightly.

“No, guess I don’t,” Joel agreed, his dark brown gaze shifting from your eyes to your mouth and back. It was so quick, but the thrill that followed made you feel like you were glowing. You slicked your tongue over your lower lip, making it shine in the firelight.

The way he spoke made you press your thighs together, the stiff seam of your jeans pressing against you in the perfect way if you shifted how you were sitting. Joel moved as well, his thighs spreading just a bit, a palm quickly smoothing over his lap in an action he probably didn’t think he would notice.

“Sweetheart, we should just get this out of the way.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion before Joel was pulling you toward him, his lips slotting over yours. A soft, startled noise was muffled against Joel’s mouth, shock dissipating quickly as your eyes slid shut. His mustache tickled your upper lip as you accidentally bumped your nose against his.

When he pulled back, there was a hint of a smile on his face. Your face felt like it was on fire, a goofy grin gracing your features as your gaze flickered over him.

Joel’s other hand crept onto your jean-clad thigh, a calloused thumb stroking along the frayed hole at your knee. “So, was that weird for you?” you asked like an insecure teenager, your teeth digging into your lower lip as you waited for his answer.

Your heart was pounding, the irrational side of your brain wondering if he was able to hear it. He surely felt it against his palm, his heavy hand resting near your pulse as he kept you close on the couch. He smiled at your question, shaking his head no as he pulled you back in for a second kiss. It was quicker, a messy stamp of his mouth over yours.

“Didn’t think you’d be into an old man like me,” he said with a chuckle. If you didn’t know better it almost seemed like Joel felt bashful. The apples of his cheeks were dusted pink, whether it was from the kiss or the wine you didn’t know.

Your eyebrow arched, a grin still on your face. “You’re not old,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully. Your hands were pressed into your lap, part of you not knowing what to do with them. You looked up at Joel through your eyelashes before your gaze dragged down his torso and to his jeans. The flannel he wore was thin, the fabric well-worn and not tucked into his blue jeans.

“I should, um, thank you,” you murmured, shifting to put your empty wine glass on the coffee table.

Joel chuckled, still watching you like a hawk that set sights on its prey. “Last I checked, you were just lecturing me about fighting your own battles,” he teased, curiosity shining deep in his chocolate eyes as you got off your couch.

The wine must have gotten to your head, because you would’ve thought you were losing your mind. You moved to stand between Joel’s legs, slowly sinking to your knees on the squishy gray carpet that covered your living room. “I don’t have to thank you if you don’t want me to, Joel,” you murmured, your hands hovering over his thick thighs for a moment before resting on them.

He looked dumbfounded and giddy, his hands already resting on the black, leather belt he wore around his waist. “No, sweetheart, you’ve got a…uh… promising idea,” Joel said with a smile, shifting his legs so they bracketed you and his knees pressed against the coffee table.

You laughed softly, hands roaming up his muscular thighs to where his belt rested just under the soft layer of fat covering his stomach. “You sure? I can always get back up,” you said teasingly, working your fingers under the tongue of his belt and pulling the buckle open. It clinked as it fell off to the sides, you didn’t bother pulling it from the belt loops.

Joel shook his head, leaning back farther into the couch and shifting his hips toward you. “M’sure,” he answered, preoccupied on the way your fingers popped open the button of his jeans and worked the zipper down.

He was already hard, the outline of his cock pressing against the denim and toward his thigh. You reached into his black boxers, pulling it out of its confinement with a satisfied sigh.

He was big, bigger than any other guy you’d been with. You held the base of his cock, fingers against the curly, dark hair that covered his pubic bone and ran up toward his belly button. It was hot to the touch, the head already leaking precum that followed the path of the prominent veins down his shaft. It was more pink than the rest of him, the head a shade darker than the rest.

You licked your lips, almost embarrassed to find yourself drooling as you braced your forearm on his thigh and kitten-licked at the underside of Joel’s cock. He grunted at the contact, his hands digging into the plush cushion of the couch as his hips twitched toward your face.

“Eager,” you mumbled, a smile on your face as you looked up at Joel through your eyelashes. He was already looking down at you, his lips parted in anticipation and his breaths heavier than they were. You licked the tip of his cock again, the salty taste of his precum on your tongue. There’s something about the way that Joel lets a breath out through his teeth that makes you feel like you were set on fire.

You let out a breathy chuckle, wrapping your lips around the head of him and hollowing out your cheeks on your descent toward his lap. It was a lot to take, your eyes watering as you swallowed more of Joel’s cock. His moans and sighs were enough to keep you going, your lips curled over your teeth and your head bobbing up and down.

One of his hands found the curve of your jaw, calloused fingers tracing it before hooking around the back of your head. You were fine with his direction, letting Joel gently press your head down to dictate your speed.

The taste of him was salty and heady, a musk that was distinctly Joel filling your nose as you drooled and sucked his cock. It was slick with your spit, the mix of your saliva and his precum coating your lips and chin. You still had your hand wrapped around the base of him and moving in tandem with your mouth, ensuring you could get everything that your throat couldn’t fit.

“Goddamn, sweetheart, you suck cock like you were made for it,” Joel said, his words punctuated with soft sighs and moans. It made you want to live permanently with his praise, your gaze flicking up to meet Joel’s for a moment.

He was completely blissed out, his head tilted back toward the ceiling as he bit his full lower lip between his teeth. His Adam’s apple kept moving erratically in his throat, like he couldn’t decide whether to breathe or not. His hand still cupped the black of your head, half-thought praises falling frantically from his lips. Joel was barely speaking in sentences, some words falling to the wayside of his soft grunts.

Feeling emboldened, you moved your hand away and tried to relax your jaw as your head descended far enough that your nose was pressed firmly against Joel’s pubic hair. It smelled surprisingly clean, just the undertone of musk clinging to the dark, curly thatch of hair as you resisted the urge to choke around his cock.

It was thick and heavy in your throat as you swallowed around him, eliciting groans and his hand pressing tightly against the back of your head. Tears burned in your eyes as Joel’s thick cock twitched in your throat, your hands spread flat on your thighs as he moaned your praises.

Joel barely thrusted his hips toward your awaiting mouth, your eyes slipped shut so you could focus on relaxing your throat. Lungs burning, you finally pulled off to suck in deep breaths. Your hand resumed what your mouth had been doing moments before, taking Joel in your fist and using your saliva as lubrication.

“Look at how pretty you are,” Joel murmured, his southern accent thicker than normal as the hand on the back of your head shifted to cup your cheek. Your eyes were watery with a few tears tracking down your face, your lips swollen and saliva coating the entirety of your chin.

You smiled, stroking his cock as you struggled to regain your breath. “Didn’t know you were such a good girl,” Joel drawled, dragging his thumb through the saliva on your chin and smearing the pad of it across your parted lips.

“When I want to be.” Your voice was thick and raspy, your eyes partially lidded. Your knees were digging into the carpet, his legs keeping you where you sat.

He smirked at that. Joel gently moved your hand away from his cock, his arms winding beneath your armpits and lifted you back up to the couch. You squealed in the back of your throat, surprised by his strength as he settled you against the arm of the couch and twisted to face you.

Large hands yanked your sweater over your head to reveal the black bra you wore, a soft groan coming from Joel. He didn’t waste time, finding the back closure and popping it open. You helped him, guiding the thin straps down your arms and tossing the garment aside.

“Christ,” Joel mumbled, his thick fingers brushing over one of your nipples. A jolt of electricity traveled down your spine at the touch, warmth blooming on your cheeks.

You were impatient, panties already soaked through and feeling uncomfortable as you popped open the button on your jeans. “Joel, I need you,” you murmured, leaning forward to kiss him as you shimmied your pants and underwear over your hips.

“So impatient,” he muttered between presses of your lips, pulling away so he could look at you properly. The firelight illuminated the curves and shadows that littered your body, stretch marks and scars visible on your skin. Self-consciousness reared its ugly head for a moment, your gaze fluttering away from Joel’s intensity as he just stared at you.

He grabbed your thighs, pulling you toward him until your back hit the couch. “Joel…” you whined as he pressed your thighs apart, his dark eyes focused on your sex.

He spread the slicked lips apart with his thumb, making you cover your face with your hands out of embarrassment. “Look at you…” he mumbled, hardly even talking to you. He let go of your other thigh, his fingertips teasing your clenching hole to gather some of the wetness dripping down you and smearing it across your clit.

You gasped, your back arching at the contact against the nerves. Joel’s fingers were calloused and thick and warm, drawing tight, slow circles over your clit as his other hand pressed into the crease between your inner thigh and your pubic bone. It kept your hips from squirming away from him.

“You’re so sensitive, sweetheart,” Joel said, the smile audible in his voice. You’d kept your hands over your face, your moans muffled by your palms as you resisted the urge to snap your thighs closed. You felt vulnerable and exposed under him.

“You’re teasing,” you mumbled, your hips twitching in an attempt to get more friction from his calloused fingers. He kept his touch agonizingly light, making you whine and whimper in your desperation for more from him. He chuckled, fingers dipping to tease your entrance again before trailing back up to your clit.

“Let me see ya,” Joel said, his hand leaving the nestle of your thigh to wrap around your wrists and pull them away from your face. He held both in one hand, keeping your wrists captive against your sternum.

Your breaths were heavy, his fingers strumming over the swollen bump of your clit pulling moans from your throat. Joel’s eyes were partially lidded as he looked down at you, a smirk growing on his face at your desperate expression. “Joel, please,” you begged, your cunt clenching around empty space as you wished he would just fucking fill you up already.

He chuckled, clicking his tongue against his teeth with mock disapproval. “If you’re so desperate, get up and turn around, sweetheart,” he said, pulling you up by your wrists. “My knees aren’t what they used to be, help an old man out.”

You’d normally take that opportunity to make a joke at his expense, but you just let him move you around like a doll. He guided you so you were kneeling on the couch, your chest pressed against the back of it. You arched your back as much as you could, sticking your ass out and hoping you looked pretty as you looked at Joel over your shoulder. He didn’t even bother getting undressed, just standing up behind you and taking his cock in his hand.

His other hand still rubbed over your cunt, smearing your arousal over your swollen lips and onto your inner thighs. Much to your relief, he pressed two thick fingers inside you. The sensation made you groan, resting your weight on your elbows and your knees as you pushed back against his fingers. They slid in so easy you were almost embarrassed.

“You’ll take me just fine, sweetheart,” Joel murmured, approval echoing in his voice. He crooked his fingers to press and massage the spongy spot inside of you, making your mouth fall open and your legs jerk.

You twisted enough to glare at him, Joel covered in shadow from the fire crackling behind him. “Quit being an asshole, Joel,” you said through your teeth, making him chuckle.

“Where are your manners, sweetheart?” he asked, pulling his fingers from your cunt. He brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a sigh before grabbing your hip with a hand. His wet fingers smeared against your heated skin as he pulled you back a little more, making your back arch like a bow pulled too tight.

He slid the blunt head of his cock between your folds until it tapped against your clit, making him when you whimpered. Joel finally granted you what you wanted, lining up with your entrance and pressing his way in. His cock caught, sliding in so slow that it made you squirm.

“Relax, sweetheart.” Joel’s big hand slid up and down your curved spine, calloused fingers feeling each and every notch of your vertebrae. Your pussy fluttered around him, stretched out and so eager as he bullied his way inside of you. The breath you took in was frantic and overwhelmed, it felt as though he was pushing all of the air out of your body. The two fingers he had pressed inside of you as a test didn’t prepare you at all for his thick cock.

You could hardly breathe, you’d never taken a cock this big inside of you without any preparation–but you were too impatient to wait for him to stretch you out on his fingers. You were pathetic, whining and wheezing as your hands clenched against the cushions on the back of your couch.

You’d never felt anything better in your life.

After what felt like ages, Joel was fully seated inside of you. His coarse jeans were pressed against your soft thighs, the two of you breathing heavily like you’d run a marathon.

“You’ve gotta relax. Feels like you’re gonna squeeze my dick off,” Joel said, slowly grinding his pelvis against the swell of your ass. You nodded, trying to take in deep breaths and get used to the feeling of being stretched full.

“Sorry,” you muttered as you focused on becoming pliant, your taught muscles slowly releasing. His beard rasped against the back of your neck as he kissed you there, a moment of intimacy to calm you down. It felt like a reward, your breaths slowing as you unclenched around Joel and welcomed him deeper.

The sound you made when Joel pulled out and pressed back in was pathetic. It felt like he was sawing you in half, carving a space for his cock inside of you with each thrust. There was some caution to his movements, his fingers digging into the fat of your hips as he grit his teeth.

“So fucking tight, sweetheart,” Joel said, his voice muffled as his mouth pressed against your neck. Each thrust coaxed a gasp from you, your nails digging into the fabric of the couch as you took whatever Joel is willing to give. Your vision was blurry from the overwhelmed tears brimming your eyes.

The sound of your bodies smacking together filled your living room, the open belt still threaded through Joel’s pants clinking on the off beat. He maintained his pace like a machine, drilling into the gummy spot inside you that made your eyes roll back in your head.

Your nipples were sensitive, rubbing against the coarse fabric of the couch cushions with every thrust. The noises you made were absolutely undignified, the sounds of someone being fucked completely stupid. He was filling you up so perfectly and the knowledge that it was Joel, your hardass patrol partner who never gave affection to anyone, it made you feel like you’d touched a live wire.

“Tell me how it feels, sweetheart,” Joel said, a wide hand reaching around you to fondle your breast. He used it to bring you back, curving your spine so the back of your head was pressed against his collarbone and you looked up at where the wall and ceiling met.

You felt helpless and primal, your mind scattered a million different places. “So good,” you gasped stupidly, hardly able to form words. Your hands grabbed his forearm and fisted in his flannel behind you, an effort to anchor yourself to him.

“I know,” he murmured, kissing the shell of your ear. You were vaguely aware of tears running down your cheeks, your mouth hanging open as you struggled to stay afloat. You were already lost, a sea of sensation pulling you under with only the places where you and Joel were pressed together serving as your lifeline.

Joel’s free hand reached around your belly, finding your neglected clit with practiced ease. You moaned his name like a broken record, your eyebrows furrowing. He rubbed it hard and fast, matching the pace he was rutting into you with. You already felt heat pooling in your lower abdomen.

“Oh god,” you gasped, already shaking from head to toe and your grip tightening around his forearm. “Joel I’m—yes, yes, yes—“

It felt like your whole world shattered as you came with a shout, your muscles convulsing. You clamped around Joel’s cock like a vise, your hips twitching wildly. Pleasure flooded through you from head to toe, warm and fuzzy and all-consuming. The sensation was simultaneously too much and not enough, Joel steadily fucking you through it as your vision went white.

Joel had to pull himself away from you, letting you slump forward on the couch cushion as you came down from your orgasm. You were clenching around nothing, whining at how cruel he was to leave you empty.

The wet, sticky sounds coming from him made you turn your head as you went boneless on the couch. Joel’s cheeks were red as he tugged at his cock, a hand squeezing the flesh of your ass. His dark eyes were focused on you, all loose limbed and spent.

He finally noticed you looking, his mouth open and panting. He took in your fucked out expression, your eyelashes clumped with tears and cheeks red. He’d made a mess of you, the dazed look on your face his undoing as he let out a grunt. He sunk his teeth into his lower lip as he came, spurting thick come over your ass as his fingers dug into you.

You sighed as you felt his hot come land on your ass and back, pooling in the curve of your spine. You were still floaty and out of it, vaguely aware of him milking the last spurts of his spend from his thick cock.

“Jesus,” he grumbled, swaying for a moment before sitting down on the couch next to you. He gathered you in his arms, pulling you onto his lap and against his chest as you went perfectly limp.

You nuzzled against his neck, humming your affection as his hand rubbed up and down your back. The motion smeared his come along your skin, his fingers rubbing it in like body lotion. It was like he’d stuck your brain in a blender, the mush of the aftermath hardly able to form more than feelings as you pressed your forehead against his beard.

“I’ll beat up the whole town if this is the thanks I get,” Joel said, pressing a kiss to your temple. His barrel chest shook beneath you with a chuckle, his hands never straying from your body.

“No one’s gonna want to touch me with a ten-foot pole,” you muttered after a moment of silence, it took you a beat to even process what Joel was saying. He snickered, seeming pleased with himself as you melted deeper into his embrace.

“Good, I should be the only one touching you,” he said, making warmth bloom in your chest. “Unless I’m assuming things.”

You smiled, a sleepy look still on your face as you wound your arms around his neck and snuggled in closer. “So this wasn’t a spur of the moment thing?” you asked, sounding shy as you said it.

Joel chuckled, shaking his head. “You know how many times I had to go home after patrol and take a cold shower just because you bumped my arm or bent over to pick something up? Felt like a damn teenager.”

You giggled, picking your head up to look at Joel properly. He looked so soft and sweet around the edges, that normal fire and flintiness was gone from his dark eyes. “You gonna stay tonight?”

He pulled you in for a kiss, it was sweet and over all too soon. “If you’ll let me,” Joel said, sounding earnest.

You nodded, tucking your head back against his neck. You were starting to succumb to your drowsy state, your eyes sliding shut as you puddled into Joel. You were vaguely aware of him lifting you off the couch, his good-natured grumbling about carrying you up the stairs filling your ears.

[hoshinasblade]

second best |2| hoshina soshiro

PART 1 | PART 2 | BONUS: PART THREE

pairing: hoshina soshiro x f!reader genre: slight angst, comfort, childhood friends to lovers, a bit of that miscommunication trope snippet: hoshina soshiro always ranks second at everything in his life. god forbid he falls behind in the bid for your heart too. word count: 2.5K trigger warnings: author's note: hello, reposting the part 2 because of hiccups from saturday when i posted it first (tumblr blocked my blog lol). likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated but please do not copy or steal my works. in celebration of this blog reaching 100 followers recently, i have written a bonus part 3 which will be posted within this week. my taglist form is here, and feel free to let me know your thoughts by sending me an ask through here. using my degree correctly by writing hoshina fanfics yes

you aren't sure when things changed between you and hoshina soshiro.

when you were young, you would have understood that he didn't have the attention span to deal with you. he wasn't exactly shy, but you wouldn't call him friendly too - unlike you, who has taken it upon herself to be friends with all the children in the small neighbourhood. unfortunately for you, only the hoshina brothers are at the same age as you are, and at that time you thought that was a sign that fate was giving - you ought to be close to them.

you won't deny that you were fonder of the hoshina brothers than anyone when you started school. if you are being honest, you like them more than any of your expensive dolls or toys. being an only child, you thought it was only natural to want someone to be with - to want someone to share things with.

the brothers would have their endless training sessions every day, and though you did not know how to swing a sword then, you insisted to your parents - and theirs - that you must join them. sometimes you would be sitting on the floor just watching them, and frequently you would be the one keeping count of the score between soshiro and soichiro when they spar.

soshiro has never won a single match against his brother when they were kids.

but you didn't mind. you still preferred him over soichiro.

in fifth grade, you bought him the biggest cake your meagre savings could buy. it wasn't much really, but you won't forget how wide his eyes went when you lighted the candles and sang him the happy birthday song albeit out of tune. the next year, you gifted him a small keychain - a teddy bear in a purple kimono. you never saw him use it.

it wasn't until years after that you worked out what your feelings for him were. the girls from your class would make small talk and ask if you have a boyfriend now and then. you would say no all the time. at sixteen, you felt like you didn't need to be in a relationship - because you have soshiro, you said to yourself - and that was when it hit you.

every time soshiro would talk to you after that, you would peek in your little compact mirror, worried he had miraculously discovered your secret, afraid that maybe your face had given it away. he caught you doing that once, and he accused you of attempting to be pretty for him.

"is it me ye're trying to be cute for?" he volunteered to carry your bag on your way home but you declined. you didn't want to start assuming things; you knew he was just being nice.

"ya wish," you deflected effectively.

"well, whoever it is for, they're in for some trouble", he commented, and you chose not to read too much in his words. you realized how the walk to your house always seemed to be shorter when you were with soshiro.

when you turned eighteen, you asked your mom what it meant to be in love. she was the last person you had wanted to ask - your parents had broken their perfect marriage not long ago, your father choosing to abandon your mother and you. soshiro taught you the basics of kendo during those hard months. "i'll even let ya beat me", he said to you.

"it's when you care for them so much that you will go as far as to let them go because you wanted them to be happy," your mother answered.

soshiro did not have the decency to say goodbye when he left himeji. you wanted to celebrate with him, and it wasn't like you weren't familiar with his plans to move after graduation. you used to stay up late with him, and inevitably the conversation would steer to his dream of getting out of your town. he would say that it's to expand his horizons - for his growth - but you like to give yourself some credit because you know him too well to simply believe that. you can tell that he needs a place to stretch his wings and be the best - somewhere he can be better than his brother.

and maybe you are really your mother's daughter - you let hoshina soshiro go because you thought it would make him happy.

"vice-captain, platoon leader said ye're needed at operations." you saluted and walked inside his office. "get yer ass in there, were the exact words actually," you added, intending it to be a joke.

soshiro didn't even look up from the file he had been staring at since you came in. he's been like this for days after you were sworn in the defense force. you would bump into him in the hallways of the training building or sit at the same table with him for lunch, and he wouldn't speak to you at all. if you didn't know better, you would think that finally, after all these years, he is now aware of your feelings. but that would be impossible, because not only the other recruits would not dare to rat you out, but also because soshiro would not be acting this way if he knew.

"v-vice captain?" you repeated.

soshiro hummed. "i heard ya the first time, officer," he said, his glance on you so cold you felt it from where you stood. it wiped off the smile you were wearing that morning.

"ya can go," he said once more after he noticed you didn't move. "or d'ya need anything else from me?"

"no, vice-captain." you were almost out of the door when you remembered something else. "one more thing, hoshina-san," you faced him again, the way you said his last name soft against your own lips. "soichiro-kun will be visiting again tomorrow so we can go to himeji together -"

"do ya belong to the sixth division?" soshiro cut you off. "i didn't know ya transferred."

"i - i'm not -" you were still trying to look for the appropriate response when he interrupted you again.

"then why are ya spending so much time with him? d'ya wanna move to his jurisdiction?" soshiro is standing now, whatever he was reading earlier long forgotten.

it was difficult to reconcile this distant man in front of you with the boy you used to chase after during your childhood days. the one who would bring you an extra boxed lunch because you told him before that his bento tastes so much better than yours. the boy you fell in love with. you had both grown up, and taken different paths at a time, yes, but you did not expect to struggle so badly to find common ground with him. "im sorry, vice-captain, i'll be off now." it felt like a huge chasm had opened in the middle of the room that determined to keep the two of you worlds apart. you turned to leave, and you heard him mutter something.

"if ya wanted to keep going on dates with my brother, ya shouldn't have gone here."

there is only one thing sharper than his katana and it is hoshina soshiro's mouth.

pain swirled inside you, threatening to spill over. when you couldn’t keep the turmoil in any longer, you snapped.

"what is yer problem?!" your pitch reached a high octave that soshiro was shocked at the outburst. "did i do anything? cause yer being mean, soshiro," you pressed on, stepping closer to him. it didn't escape him how you dropped the title off his name, and the honorifics, too. he was about to respond, but you didn't give him the chance. "look, i know yer not on good terms with soichiro-kun, but he’s my friend."

"like i needed to be reminded." sarcasm coated his retort. "ya know what? ya can marry the guy and i won't even care. do whatever ya want", he said, dismissing you in a harsher tone

your forehead scrunched and your eyebrows met in confusion. "what are ya talkin' about? no one is getting married -"

soshiro's laugh was bitter. you recoiled at the offensive sound. "i'm not the one going around telling everyone she's in love with soichiro-kun.”

there was a loud ringing in your ears; you couldn’t believe what you were hearing, and you were suddenly afraid that this conversation is unfolding into something else entirely. “i never said that,” you protested. “i never told anyone i was in love with him. i don’t know where you’re getting this from.”

soshiro’s expression remained stoic and unreadable. “i heard you say it at the izakaya”, he murmured.

breath was knocked out of your lungs and panic started to rise within you. “i never told anyone i was in love with him”, you repeated. you tried to rewind every second of what happened in the party thrown for the new officers nearly a month ago. everyone was drinking and having a good time after the sworn-in ceremony. commander ashiro and the vice-captain had to leave ahead. your fellow newbies grilling you on your history with hoshina soshiro.

“save it.” hurt was evident in soshiro’s voice; his eyes glimpsed at you briefly, and you saw an emotion you couldn’t quite decipher flicker. soshiro’s expressionless mask faltered for a moment, revealing a glimpse of vulnerability. although you don’t have a clue how he would have heard it when he went with commander ashiro that night, the desire to straighten things out overtook you.

for a split second, the burden of the truth hangs heavily on your tongue. you gave in to the desperation.

“i never told anyone i was in love with him”, you reiterated, hoping he would understand this time. “because it’s you i’m in love with.”

there were multiple occasions in the past where you almost admitted what he meant to you; you had pictured a thousand scenarios in your head where you declared your love, but all of them did not include the part where soshiro would respond.

you thought confessing would ease the ache in your heart, but it was the opposite. "i didn't know how to tell ya, and that's my fault. but how could i? ya didn't even bother to say goodbye to me when ya left home." it was taking everything of you to hold your tears back, and ignoring the obvious tremble in your voice, you continued. "did ya know i taught myself how to pray after ya were gone? i thought it was the only thing i could do for ya."

"i didn't know", was all soshiro could say. he looks in distress, still grappling with your bold confession.

a loud knock on the door broke the tension. “vice-captain, they made me fetch you,” okonogi said from the hall.

“well, now ya do.” you turned away just when soshiro strode towards your direction, running after you. you were faster than him, and despite the possibility that you would be seen coming from the vice-captain’s office crying, you twisted the doorknob and ran.

it is still hot when you sit down on a bench at the rooftop of the third division's training building.  you welcomed the cool breeze, however, and you noted that at this altitude, everything from far away looks considerably smaller.

you missed two important briefings this afternoon already, and your team is most certainly searching frantically for you everywhere. you are definitely going to be scolded by your superior. yet you couldn’t bring yourself to discard the little comfort being alone had given to you, especially after such an emotional confrontation. you sighed, exhaustion slowly crawling all over you. lost in your thoughts, you did not notice the soft footsteps approaching until a familiar voice tore through the silence. the cold breeze blew, making you shiver a bit.

“hey,” soshiro called out. you freaked out, immediately looking for a space to hide at. “i already saw ya,” he let you know.

he held out a keychain in front of your face, a tiny bear in a faded purple kimono with the string attached to its head dangling from his forefinger. you recognized it instantly - you got it for him when he turned 12 years old. he sat beside you, not concerning himself with asking for your permission.

“the first few days were the hardest”, he began, and you listened. “i was too used to seeing ya every day, but when we were apart, i convinced myself i would forget how ya look like. i didn’t.” he offered the keychain to you and you took it - the bear’s fur worn out and old to your touch. “i hold that thing whenever i start to miss ya.”

shock was etched on your face and your gaze darted to him. “is it too late now to say that i love ya?” he whispered, his face mirroring the sincerity of his tone. sunlight bathed the rooftop as soshiro’s words hung in the air, leaving you breathless and stunned. you gasped. “maybe i should have told ya sooner. but i have been in love with ya for a while now.”

you leaned into his shoulder, and you quietly cried.

“i don’t think i have been anybody’s first choice in anything, so it didn’t enter my mind that ya would probably feel the same.” his hand found yours and you relished on the warmth.

“your brother advised that i tell ya, ya know?” you said between sniffles.

he chuckled. “he didn’t do an excellent job at that, did he now?”

silence ensued; his thumb tracing patterns on the back of your hand, your head on his shoulder still - your breathing still a mess from everything that has been said. “i’m sorry i hurt ya. let me spend my whole life making it up to ya,” he proposed. the promise made your heart skip a beat.

for the first time in a long time, you gave him a smile - the one you have reserved just for him, the one you made sure to convey everything you wanted to tell him. there are a lot of other things you feel the need to ask him, but this will suffice for now. this is more than you ever had in your whole life.

“i can’t believe we wasted so much time dancing around our feelings. that one time i wanted to hit one of our classmates because he was being pushy with ya, d’ya remember that?” he reminisced. “anyone can have everything in the world, and the only time i would crack is if it is ya being taken away from me.”

all your dreams pale in comparison to your reality now.

out of the blue, you heard soshiro giggle. “does this mean ya were telling the newbies that night that it was me ye’re into?” he stared at you, and you can’t help but see him as the little boy you grew up with. this is the man i love, you said to yourself. you squeezed his hand.

you didn’t respond. all you know is the color of your cheeks surely rivals the pink of the skies as the both of you watch the sun sets.

[moodymisty]

Request: Guilliman showing off his new kid to some other primarchs

Author’s note: Here, has a cute snippet. <3 Cranking these out like mad, I hope people don't mind some of these being a bit shorter.

Relationships: Guilliman/Fem!Reader

Warnings: None

Guilliman doesn't have many opportunities to talk to the primarch of the Salamanders, and so he takes a moment to enjoy the peace. The two may not see eye to eye on every single thing, but he will appreciate the man's nature. He doesn't start fights, bicker and bellow; Treat everything like a hit to his honor, like many of the others.

"Life seems to be fortunate for you, since we last met on Terra."

Guilliman watches with caution as his Ultramarines curiously come to greet their primarch's new son. You've been on bedrest on Terra for a good while now, and other than hearing that you were both alive, his legion has seen nothing of you for all that time.

Thiel has firmly parked himself beside you, shoving off Ultramarines who get too pushy. Funny, how they are so strict yet seem quite eager to give their Primarch's son all of the greetings they thought needed. A little ceremony just for his son- Vulkan can see the pride that gleams off of the new father in waves. No matter how stoic he might come across to the unfamiliar.

Even a few Salamanders had come over to say hello, though despite prickled Ultramarines, you treated them all the same and smiled. Vulkan watched on as well, pleased with his sons compassion.

"We have had more than our fair share of ups and downs. I'm glad to have this moment of peace."

Vulkan can tell that even in Guilliman's stalwart, stoic expression, there's always a hint of softness whenever he looks your way. He is glad that one of his brothers found such love; He hopes more are that fortunate one day.

Maybe even himself, if he allows himself to be so greedy.

"Have you chosen a name?"

Vulkan watches another one of his sons come up to you, one of his captains, towering over you with a soft smile while Thiel stands close. Guilliman adjusts the front of his robes.

"Konor. After my father."

Not much longer after saying his new child's name you start to walk towards them, shuffling as fast as you can go. You're still tired, Vulkan imagines.

"Hello primarch Vulkan," You smile at him. "I wanted to say hello before I went to put the baby down to bed."

While Guilliman doesn't move to pick up your baby, he does lean down to gently brush their head. The primarch beams with pride; Alongside hesitation. Vulkan imagines that his size causes him to hesitate. It was so easy to hurt you, an even smaller child only increases that worry. He'll learn to control his strength better with time, Vulkan had to do the same.

"You two get plenty of rest, before you return to Ultramar." Vulkan turns to look at Guilliman with his peaceful, welcoming expression. "If either of you have need of the Salamanders, you need only ask." Guilliman puts a friendly hand on his shoulder, confident.

"I will keep it in mind. You are a good friend, Vulkan."

[a-land-lacking-sleep]

A brief thought on the parallels of the Subway Bosses, The Tao Trio, and Warden Ingo's place

@waywardstation just made an amazing post on her thoughts of Warden Ingo's parallels to Kyurem. Nothing in the game directly connects the two, just like nothing in the game connects the Subway Bosses to the Dragons in Generation V. But the connections are still there regardless, because Game Freak made sure to fill Unova with so much symbolism.

These are the basic thoughts that connect each Man to their Dragon.

Subway Boss Ingo - Ideals; Aspire to greatness, never give up in your journey

Subway Boss Emmet - Truth; You are who you are, there is no need for a mask

Warden Ingo - Void; What is there when you lose who you are? No drive for greatness, nothing to mask. Ideals, Truths, nothing matters except the ground beneath your feet.

In each game that they appear, Ingo and Emmet are relatively flat characters. In Gen 5, they have enough personality to stick in your mind, and nothing past. And in PLA, Ingo's whole personality is "I lost my memory and am depressed, but have hope". Instead, we end up looking at word choice, and in the Subway Bosses cases, other media.

Subway Boss Ingo, across most media, embodies Ideals. He has his eyes to the future, always pushing himself and others to continue onwards. He frames battling and training as a journey ("What can I see after winning, winning, and winning? Where is my destination?"; "Your talent has brought you to the destination called Victory!"; "There is no terminal called End in your life!"), most often when he is victorious. He seeks to create his Ideal self, and wants to push others to do the same.

This comes up in Pokemon Masters EX as well, where the "no terminal" line returns (in an appropriately spooky tone), he also spends time in the Day With Ingo story event talking about how he seeks to better himself and "break through the mold of [his] past self". This event is also the first time he mentions the phrase "greater heights", which appears another 6 times in various snippets in Masters. And finally, we have a triple whammy of travel metaphors for growth in his level up lines.

For Subway Boss Emmet, his connection to Truth is admittedly a bit more tenuous. He doesn't have any tendency for truth-seeking or investigations (outside of the famous behavior in the manga where he likes to eavesdrop on drama, which gossip isn't exactly truthful), but what he has is a strong showing of being truthful, even if he ends up being blunt or disrespectful.

As a consequence of his writing in Japanese giving him a very casual way of speaking, the English translation has him speak in shorter clips, just the bare essentials. The naked truths of his thoughts. He doesn't seek the Truth, or give a Universal Truth; Emmet is True to himself and to those around him. (As a side note, I love when people give power to other usages of the word True through Reshiram. I did it in my fic with a turn of phrase, but I've seen it done beautifully in other works too).

In Pokemon Special, Emmet doesn't hide the truth of why they asked White to train on the Battle Subway ("We're studying you as an example of a Trainer who gets overwhelmed and loses every battle!" "That's not nice, Emmet."), not because he is intending to be rude (Ok, a little bit), but because that *is* what they are using her for. In the games, he speaks of how Pokemon battles can be decided on luck ("I won against you. But I think I just got lucky."), because the Truth of the matter is, you can be highly trained and just have a bad day or get hit by a critical hit. But, most importantly, he believes that battles must be serious for them to be fun. Because what fun is there in putting up a fake fight, when you could just be True to yourself?

Now, to speak on the connection of Warden Ingo to Kyurem, we must first understand what Kyurem is to Zekrom and Reshiram. On a surface level, it is a Husk, a leftover revenant that can be reassembled into a simulacrum of the Original being. But looking into the actual symbolism of them all is where you find threads of connection to the Warden.

Reshiram, the Dragon of Yin, is representative of a more static element, receptive of change but passive in how it does so. It is a recursive existence that reaches out and pulls back towards itself - Everyone has an individual Truth, but that is still able to be changed by The Truth. However, one does not go out and change The Truth, only altering the perception of it while it passively exists. You cannot change what is already there, only create something new. In comparison, Emmet is never really shown to focus on the future, but rather on the present. He knows of the Truth in his life, and while it can be changed by present actions, he knows that he cannot go back to change it, so there is no need to try, or to hide it.

Zekrom, the Dragon of Yang, is active, ever expanding, and pushes up against those around it in it's search for Ideals. Ideals cause you to seek out a goal, to leave your home, your comfort zone, and push away from the past. To represent Ideals is to be in constant flux; Settling into a form makes you into a Truth, as an Ideal is a goal, something attainable, yet unreachable. We've gone over Ingo's future-forward gaze, constantly thinking about what is to come. Life is a journey, and every step you take in life is a step to self-improvement.

Kyurem is a Husk, a Shell. According to Bulbapedia, it is representative of Wuji ("Without a roof"), the absense of Yin and Yang, or "The Ultimate Nothingness". For this reason, I personally also attribute to it Mu, a concept of non-existence and negative space, specifically the lack of something normally there (modern Japanese actually uses "mu-" as a prefix the same way English has the suffix "-less"). Interestingly, the Japanese transliteration of Wuji is "Mukyoku" (lit. Non-polar, another translation of Wuji), connecting the two concepts neatly. In short, Kyurem represents Nothing and Everything.

Kyurem was supposedly the Original Dragon, the deity of Unova that represented Truths and Ideals in unison, a embodiment of Yin and Yang's harmony. In a sense, the Original Dragon was an embodiment of Everything, Unova's spirit of unity. Then, with the war between the Twin Princes (another pair also frequently compared to Ingo and Emmet, in case you think I forgot my boys), it was split into 2, but secretly 3, parts. This third secret part became Kyurem, a being lacking in its original qualities, leaving Nothing but the Husk.

Now, finally, we can get to everyone's favorite uncle, Warden Ingo. His connection to Kyurem is probably the least intentional of them all (which is saying something, because I'm honestly convinced that the Subway Bosses' own connections aren't intentional, but rather just a result of how Unova games were written with Truth vs. Ideal being ingrained heavily), but there still is one. As Wayward says in her fateful post, "Warden Ingo is an empty husk of who he once was ever since he was separated from his life, and from Emmet." Ingo as the Subway Boss may not have embodies the Everything that the Original Dragon has, but pairing with Emmet so closely still meant that Truth and Ideals mixed so cleanly that it might as well have been Everything.

However, the most important connection for Warden Ingo are the concepts of Wuji and Mu. To be "the Ultimate Nothingness" or "Non-Polar" means to be devoid of Everything, yet still have the capability to be far more than Nothing. The singular concept of Mu may mean that Warden Ingo is missing who he is and was, but that is not who we grow know in the game; We connect with a man who is slowly piecing together his sense of self, remembering facets of his past and growing happier with who he can be. Thus, the Mu transitions into Wuji, a void that isn't Empty so much as lacking.

The importance of distinction is that Mu is by nature Empty, while Wuji is Empty and Everything, limitless and confined. Similarly, Ingo is devoid of what made him him (His drive for self-improvement is impaired, even while he pushes the player to climb to greater heights), but becomes something new in the meta-narrative of the story. His actual, plot-related story ends when you quell Electrode and he becomes a challengeable NPC at the Training Grounds, but he becomes something of a kindred spirit in the greater plot of the game. He's like you, a Faller who has lost themselves, and also like you, an avid battler who pushes the system to it's limits (especially in the Path of Solitude).

In short, the connection between Kyurem and Warden Ingo isn't anything in the text, as Kyurem has no explicit in-game theming attached to it like Zekrom and Reshiram, and Warden Ingo doesn't have strong philosophical points that seeps out of the words he says to you. But when you look at the meta-theming for Kyurem, and subsequently Warden Ingo's meta-narrative, the connections become clearer.

Does some of this make no sense? Of course! A lot of this is extrapolating what was said in Wayward's post, and what came from my head as I thought of it. A lot of the connections of the twins to the Dragons has been discussed since 2010, but for all intents and purposes, Warden Ingo is a different character from Subway Boss Ingo. Narratively, he is the same person, hence why his appearance is a tragedy in Legends Arceus, one which we never get to solve. But on a meta level, he functions so differently, and lives so differently, that the themes he inhabits do not match up to the Subway Boss in any way. To end this on a sad note, Warden Ingo is exactly like Kyurem - Broken. He has lost what made him whole, and we've been shown that just reinserting Ideals isn't enough. Hopefully, if Game Freak decides to touch upon the Warden once more, we can find a way to reinsert his Truths as well.

[userpeggycarter]

i was requested by anon to make a tutorial for this gifset and here it is!

DIFFICULTY intermediate/difficult. basic giffing knowledge is definitely required.

while my gifset has a fair amount of animation, the only handmade animations can be found in the second and fifth gif. the rest are assets (the checkmarks, the sharpie circles) (either gifs or videos) i found on the internet and pasted over my gif.

THE BASICS OF TIMELINE GIFFING

if you gif with frames, you will need to use a timeline for the animation to work (keyframes). i’m a timeline giffer anyway so this was another Tuesday for me. if you never used that method of giffing, however, it can be confusing, especially if you never used a video editing software before (the timeline works like video editing). 

so, here’s a breakdown of what is the timeline:

the player icons work like any video/music player in existence. ignore the volume icon.

the gear icon indicates the quality of the reproduction while editing it, not the quality of the end product. think like it’s Youtube reproduction settings on a video in order to save your 4G data, but with RAM power instead. this is very useful if your computer isn’t very powerful to begin with and gifs with VFX are very heavy to handle. 

i always click the loop option inside the gear panel because i like to see how the gif will be viewed by the public, i find watching to play only once isn’t very productive. you can stop and restart the reproduction by pressing the space bar on your keyboard.

every layer of your PSD file will have its own bar. the length of the bar means the duration of the gif, so a longer bar means a longer gif and a shorter one, a shorter gif. for everything that isn’t your gif/screencap-based (ie, coloring, typography, lightning, shapes, etc) can be dragged by the extremities as much as you want, making the asset last as long as you want. the only layer that is limited by its maximum duration is naturally your gif, but you can also drag it to make it shorter.

you can also drag a whole layer bar by clicking it and dragging it, making the start and finishing point different from the rest. be careful while doing that otherwise you will end up with blank frames, messing up the looping of your gif completely.

there’s a needle you can drag across the timeline and it works just like on a vinyl disc, the moment the needle drops, it’s the moment/frame Photoshop will show you.

you can also trim your stuff by cutting and deleting snippets of the bar. for that, you will drag your needle to the desired moment, use the scissor tool and then press delete to erase the unwanted bit.

it’s important to point out that the timeline only allows 0.03x or 0.07px speed, no matter what the speed the gif was before converting to that method. if the original speed is closer to 0.03x, then PS will define the new speed as 0.03x. if it’s closer to 0.07x, then it’s 0.07x. i always change the speed to 0.03x before converting to timeline for the sake of not screwing stuff up, which means i see my gif looping while editing in a faster way than Tumblr users will see when the gifset is posted. this takes a while to adjust to if you’re new to timeline giffing, but eventually you don’t think it’s jarring anymore.

that also means you will need to correct the speed after your gif is completely finished. to do that, i use this action.

you can zoom in and zoom out using the little mountain sliding bar. this will be useful later in the tutorial.

if you zoom to the max, you will see all the numbers above your layer bar. these are time marks. the thing is, they seem a bit weird at first. the bigger numbers indicate SECONDS (01:00f, 02:00f, 03:00f, etc), while the smaller and repetitive numbers indicate frames (5f, 10f, 15f, 25f). that means that the smallest drag of your needle possible (from point A to point B) refers to an interval of 1 frame. you will need to take this into consideration while animating stuff.

you can color code your layers, if you think that makes it easier for you to see what you are doing. this is something i do, not only in Photoshop but every Adobe product with a timeline. to change the color of a layer bar (the default is purple), you can right-click on your layer in the layer panel and click the color you want. the colors are the very last thing in the list when you right-click it.

another organization tip is the use of folders. if you create a folder in the layers panel, a folder is created inside the timeline and any layer inside of that folder will disappear from the panel until you click the little arrow next to the name of the folder in the timeline panel. you can color code your folder as well, making every layer inside of it the same color or even different colors.

THE BASICS OF KEYFRAMES

every change related to any property selected (transformation, opacity, style, text warp, position of the layer mask, activation of the layer mask) will be computed in the exact moment in the gif you change it. if that doesn’t happen, you can force Photoshop to do it by clicking the small diamond next to the property name.

let’s say you want an animation to start 0.5 seconds after the gif starts, so you will drag your “needle” to 0.5 seconds and then make the change (making a text bigger, moving a shape, etc). 

Photoshop will automatically bridge the gap between the state of the gif at 0 seconds and 0.5 seconds, thus animating your gif. 

to start animating, you will need to click the little clock next to the property you want to animate. make sure you click the clock while your needle is at the exact beginning of the gif.

every change (keyframe) will be marked with a small diamond under the layer bar, at the exact moment you changed it. that means if you make jarring changes in a short amount of time/frames, the animation will be quick and abrupt. if the interval is very long, the animation will be slow and smooth.

the selected(s) keyframe(s) will have their diamond painted yellow, while the unselected ones will be grayed out. 

you can right-click the diamonds to delete or copy them. if you have many diamonds and want to delete them all, you can click and drag to form a square and select all of them just like when you do to select many files at once on a PC folder. there’s also the option “select all” under the right-click panel.

you can also drag them and change their timing that way. if you have more than one diamond selected, if you drag them, their interval will remain the same, but the starting and finishing point of those two diamonds will change.

THE SQUARES BAR

the easiest of the two animations. this one doesn’t require keyframe animation, but i put this in the last bit of the tutorial for the sake of its flow.

first, i added the empty squares. they last as long as the gif lasts. after 6 frames, i added the first colored square and made that square last until the end of the gif. i repeated this in a staggered manner (+2 frames delay each colored square) so the colored squares appear at equal intervals. 

THE STATS BAR

the most difficult of the two, but don’t worry, you got this. 

first, you will need to structure your stats, ie, add the text, the dividing line and the pointed lines. that is, if you want to follow the exact design i used in my gif, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to.

next, you will create rectangles that fill the entire stat bars. you will add a layer mask to each one of them and with a layer mask selected, select a rectangle about the size of your original rectangle, then paint it black. you will notice the original rectangle will disappear. if you delete the layer mask, the original rectangle will appear again. that is because you didn’t delete the original rectangle, you just hid it by using a layer mask.

there’s a chain icon between the layer and the layer mask in the layers panel, click it to unlink them.

click the clock next to “layer mask position” with your needle at 0 seconds/frames. drag your needle to the moment you want the stats to end and use the arrow keys to move the layer mask. you will notice the original rectangle will slowly be revealed by you moving the layer mask. you will also notice that a small diamond will appear in the “layer mask position” line in the timeline. you created a keyframe!

if you press play, you will see the animation from the bar going from null to full!

FURTHER READING/VIEWING

this tutorial uses layer mask animation to reveal text too!

a video tutorial for better visualization!

another keyframe tutorial, this time focusing on coloring!

if you still have any questions, feel free to contact me!

and if you (or anyone) else want, i can go in depth in animating each property, i just did a quick overview + explained the stats animation.

[samandcolbyownme]

SORRY IF THIS SENDS TWICE Can you do a Johnnie Guilbert smut where they're doing a drunk live and randomly end it if you what I mean 😃!!

Hands to Myself | Johnnie Guilbert

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, flirting, teasing, slightly sexual innuendo(s), dirty fluff

Enjoy!

══════════════════

You were crumbling down.

Your drunken, dirty thoughts are slowly overtaking every inch of your mind. You managed to push them down and away long enough, but you weren’t sure how much longer you can keep it together.

You took another sip of your drink, almost spitting it out when you see Johnnie about miss the table with his glass, “Babe!”

He looks up, glass in hand, his eyes glassed over as he laughs, “That.. would have been awful.” He starts to laugh and you you lean over, looking into the camera, “I’m a little distracted right now.”

A smirk forms on your lips, you know he’s talking about you.

“If anyone wants to know..” you laugh and lean in towards the camera a little bit more, “Johnnie is the more clumsy one out of us two.” You laugh, “He just about missed the table with his glass!”

The chat lights up with cry-laughing emojis and a bunch of people saying, me when I’m drunk.

You can’t help but laugh, until you look over at Johnnie, and his stare silences you instantly.

“What?” You ask innocently as you look around, laughing slightly as you try and figure out what he’s staring at you for. He shakes his head, pulling you over to whisper in your ear, “I’m ready to end this live.”

You keep your head still, smirking slightly as you ask a quiet, “Why?”

His hand slides up your side that isn’t facing the camera and he nips at your ear lobe, “Each time you lean over, I swear to god your tits are going to fall out.”

You giggle, leaning back away from him, “I mean, you can always just t-“ Johnnie reaches forward, ending the live in one swift click, no goodbye to the fans, nothing.

Before you can even say anything, you’re pulled into his lap and his hands are on your ass, “Now, what were you saying? I should take.. this off..”

His fingers move to grab the hem of your low cut shirt. and he raises his brows as he watches you nod, “Y-yeah.”

Your breathing is rapid as he slides his hands down to lay over your thighs, “I’ll give you thirty seconds to undress for me, then I’ll do whatever you want.”

══════════════════

I’m going to be posting (some shorter) snippets, mainly because I haven’t been on and I know you all are probably starving.

Thank you for reading and sticking around. I love you all so much.

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!