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sceletaflores · 1 month ago

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LAYING IT ALL ON THE LINE...

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｡꩜°‧➵ PAIR: Joel Miller x fem!reader

｡꩜°‧➵ WC: 4.1k

｡꩜°‧➵ CONTAINS: 18+ SMUT MDNI, post-outbreak, hurt/comfort, joel's pov, general violence, minor character injury, jackson!joel, when he picks an unnecessary fight with you because that's all he knows, mentioned age gap, joel miller as a sad old man, joel miller experiences feelings, oral sex (f!receiving), p in v, clothed sex, unprotected sex, erectile dysfunction? we don't know what that means in this house because that old man can fuck like he's twenty AND his knees are made of steel (but only sometimes), porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.

｡꩜°‧➵ @retrosabers SAYS: thinking about you almost dying on patrol and joel is FUMING, unable to convey just how worried and anxious it makes him. the only way he can even remotely conceptualize his feelings is through a very PASSIONATE rawdogging ♡

｡꩜°‧➵ NAT'S NOTE: everyone say thank you sid for this absolutely luxurious prompt...i'm waiting. i had so much fun with this! i love love love a good semi-angsty, emotionally constipated man having to come to terms with his buried slash repressed feelings in the gritty wake of a near-death experience, like that's my shit. hope y'all love it!

dividers by @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics!

joel miller realizes that love isn’t just a four letter word…

"Southeast perimeter’s clear. Heading west by the river bed."

“Wow, you’re finally gonna stop gettin’ us lost out here, sunshine?”

“Lost? Please, you cried when I found that shortcut through the cedar thicket.”

Joel listens to you and Tommy bicker over the radio, a forgotten cup of coffee going cold at his side. That's all he can do when you're out there—patrolling in the snow with a few others. He's not proud of how he just sits by like some anxious house wife, listening to the static between check-ins, but he can't make himself focus on anything other than the way your bright voice filters in and out.

He tries not to hover. Tries not to keep the handheld clutched like it's a goddamn lifeline. But he does, eyes glued to the thing like it might crack open and spill you out if he stares hard enough.

Joel's really not even supposed to be listening in like this. Maria's chewed him out more times than he can count each time she catches him hunched over an old radio that he's never bothered turning in, says it'll do him more harm than good worrying over it.

Besides, these channels aren't meant for civilians sitting on their asses at home. He knows that, because that's exactly what he is now—civilian adjacent. Half-retired.

Tommy jokes about it every once in a while, the way Joel's slowed down, the way his joints complain louder than they used to. A while back, he might've laughed too. Now, every little twinge of pain feels like a reminder of what he used to be.

Joel used to be the one they all looked to out on patrol. He could track better, shoot cleaner, navigate faster than most of the younger guys. That's not the case these days. His patrolling has slowed down over the past few years. He only goes out a few times every couple of months, if even that.

He tells himself it’s by choice.

It’s not, not at all. He’s tired. His knees ache after long rides. His busted shoulder can’t handle the cold without locking up. Jackson’s got a whole rotation now, young joints, faster reflexes, eyes that don’t blur when the wind hits just right. So he doesn’t go out much anymore. Not unless the group is short. Not unless they really need him.

It makes sense. He knows it makes sense.

That doesn’t make it feel right. You out there, miles away in knee-deep snow with a rifle strapped to your back while he’s stuck here. Not out there. Not beside you.

Joel knows you can handle yourself—hell, you’ve proven that a dozen times over. You’re younger. Strong. Fast. Smart as a whip. You can shoot the cap off a beer bottle and you handle a knife better than most people your age.

Knowing all that still doesn’t quiet the feeling of unease that eats away at him each time you strap on your gear and kiss him goodbye with a, See you later, Miller. Strolling out the door like it’s casual. Like it’s nothing.

There’s a kind of helpless fury in it. A sick twist in his gut every time he watches you ride out. Like he’s some retired goddamn hunting dog. Trusted to guard the porch, but not sharp enough to run with the pack anymore.

Joel adjusts the volume dial on the radio like it’ll make your voice stay longer.

Tommy’s laugh cuts through the speaker. “Didn’t cry. I got snow in my eye.”

“In July? Sure.”

It comes in grainy and light, full of that same teasing bite you always give Tommy—enough to make Joel’s jaw tighten with a quiet, helpless kind of fondness. He almost smiles, but it doesn’t reach past the tight pull in his chest. You’re still picking your way through territory where any tree line might be hiding something.

Joel shifts in his seat, elbows on the table, jaw clenched tight. He tells himself you’re fine. You always are. You have to be.

The channel goes still for a few beats. Then, a crack of static. Some muffled shuffling. And—

“Wait—something’s moving in the trees. Left side, just past the ridge.”

Your voice. Sharper now. Less teasing and pointedly quiet.

“Copy,” Tommy replies, suddenly serious. “Keep eyes on—”

A burst of noise. A flurry of panicked voices overlapping and shouts. The unmistakable sound of gunfire.

Then nothing.

Dead air.

Joel’s heart drops to his boots. “Tommy?” he barks into the receiver. “Come in. What the hell’s happening out there?”

When there’s no answer, Joel shoots to his feet. The chair scrapes across the floor harshly as he crosses the room in two large strides, fumbling for his jacket. “Tommy? Goddammit, someone answer me!”

Nothing.

Joel’s heart thuds violently against his ribcage as he stares at the little black box in his hand like it’s an omen. He feels it rush in all at once—panic, guilt, helpless rage curling cold and mean in his chest. His ears are ringing so loud he doesn’t hear the slam of the door behind him as he tears out of the house and into the cold air.

Something happened. The group was compromised. You were compromised.

And he’s not there.

He should’ve been there.

Joel doesn’t remember the sprint to the stables. Doesn’t remember shouting at Maria when she tried to stop him at the gate. Doesn’t remember half the ride out. All he knows is that his hands won’t stop shaking around the reins and the bile in his throat tastes like ash—a sick, gnawing pit growing in his gut.

When he finds the group what feels like hours later, just as the sun starts to rise behind the ridgeline—you’re nowhere to be found. His eyes scan the way everyone’s spread out, some with minor injuries and the others patching them up.

No sign of you.

Tommy plants himself in front of Joel just as he hauls himself off his horse. He doesn’t even feel the way his knees jolt as his feet hit the ground.

“Where the hell is she?” he rasps, voice so rough it sounds like it’s been dragged through gravel. “Where, Tommy?”

Tommy’s hands are out in front of him like Joel’s a wild animal about to snap. He’s got blood on his hands, but no signs of stab wounds or bullet holes anywhere on him. It’s not his blood. Joel’s stomach turns viciously at the sight, at the thought of whose it might be.

“She’s fine,” Tommy says, eyes wide and placating. “Took a hit, it grazed her side. She wouldn’t fuckin’ stay down.”

Joel knows he won’t feel any relief until he sees you, alive and breathing with his own eyes. “Where.”

Tommy steps aside just before Joel nearly shoves past him, nodding his head toward a rock outcrop a ways away from everyone else.

You’re sitting closest to the makeshift fire, Jesse crouched beside you to clean the gash along your side. You’re bundled in someone else’s coat, hair mussed and blood soaked through your undershirt and spattered across your cheeks.

Visibly shaken. Color drained. Bloody. Alive.

Joel’s throat locks up when your eyes meet his. You give him the smallest, tired smile—like you're trying to reassure him. That look. That stupid, brave little tilt of your mouth like everything's okay even when you're the one bleeding through Tommy's jacket.

It makes something in his chest crack wide open.

“Joel?”

He doesn’t speak.

Doesn’t know what to say.

Doesn’t trust himself for it to be anything good.

Joel takes three shaky steps towards you before his knees give out.

He drops hard into the snow. He doesn’t catch himself, doesn’t try. Just falls forward like a penitent man bowing at the altar of a God he doesn’t believe in. His breath comes in short, ragged bursts, eyes locked onto the red seeping through your shirt like it's the only color in the whole damn world.

There’s a beat where nobody moves. Jesse freezes, half-done wrapping gauze, and you’re just sitting there, wide-eyed and shaking like a leaf, lips parted like you’re trying to say something—but Joel’s already reaching for you.

He's on you in the next breath. Not rough, not like usual, not with that greedy, hungry touch he normally has after you come back from patrol. His hands are trembling when they find your face, tilting your chin up gently, his fingers brushing away wet blood and dirt.

Tommy glances away. Jesse too, both men busying themselves with helping the others. It feels too private, even out here in the open.

“Goddammit,” he chokes. “God—baby–”

His voice breaks on the last word. Breaks, something sharp and gutted and boyish, nothing like the hardened man who's grown to guard his emotions like they’re classified. Your hands hover uncertainty over his shoulders, the side of his face. You’re worried. He can see it plain as day, written in the wavering line of your mouth.

“Hey—hey, I’m okay,” you say, voice low and urgent. “I’m fine. Look at me, Joel, I’m fine. It just—it just grazed me, okay? I’m fine.”

You’re not fine.

You’re too pale. You’re stone-cold. Your blood is still tacky on your shirt, drying beneath his body's warmth.

Joel presses his forehead to yours and exhales like he’s been kept underwater, and you were the surface he’d been clawing to.

You whisper his name again, quieter this time, and he shushes you. “Don’t—don’t talk, just—let me—” His fingers press to the pulse point at your wrist like he still needs proof. “Let me feel you.”

You don’t say anything else.

You just hold him.

And Joel doesn’t cry. He can’t. Something won’t let him, but he stays there in the snow for a long time, holding you like a man who thought he’d never get the chance to again.

The ride back to Jackson is quiet.

You fell asleep half-way through, head lolling back against Joel’s shoulder as you both sat in the saddle, your body loose with exhaustion and the emergency pain meds Jesse had in his pack. Tommy rides ahead, checking the trail, but Joel barely looks up. He just holds the reins with one hand and holds you tighter with the other.

You’re taken to the infirmary the second everyone files through the gates. Joel sits by your bedside in stormy silence, hands curled into fists and resting on his knees, the only thing keeping him together.

You talk to the nurse on duty. You even joke with her, cracked voice and tired eyes like it’s all part of the routine. Like getting shot is just another part of the job. And Joel sits there while someone else wraps you in new bandages and checks your vitals.

It makes his blood boil.

All he can think about is the way your voice cut out on the radio. The way he didn’t know if you were dead or bleeding out in some field, alone. And now you’re laughing. Now you’re telling the nurse, “I’m fine really, just sore.” And it makes him want to tear the whole fucking clinic apart.

Joel doesn’t say a word until you're cleared to leave.

Not on the short walk back to your house. Not when you’re walking through the door, cleaned up. Patched. Your shirt’s gone, replaced by his coat and a thermal blanket around your shoulders.

Not when you nudge his arm gently like you’re testing the waters. Not when you say his name soft, like it might keep him calm before you’re heading towards the bedroom.

It doesn’t.

The moment the door shuts behind him, Joel erupts.

“You got a fuckin’ death wish?”

You freeze in your spot halfway across the room, turning to face him.

Joel doesn’t move. Just stands there, fists clenched at his sides. His voice is low, shaking with barely concealed rage. “You gonna tell me why you thought playin’ saviour was worth bleedin’ out in the snow?”

You don’t say anything for a few beats, eyebrows drawn together in a hard frown as you look at him. “What was I supposed to do, Joel? Jesse was pinned, Tommy would’ve taken the hit. I didn’t have a choice.”

“You always have a choice!” Joel grates, stepping towards you. “You could’ve picked you. You could’ve stayed the fuck down like Tommy told you to.”

“I was trying to keep your brother from getting shot in the head,” you snap, the tension finally striking a flint. “I made a judgment call.”

“You made a stupid call,” he spits, voice loud and blistering. “You don’t get to do that.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” you repeat, your body growing stiff and tense.

“You shoulda fuckin’ stayed down.” Joel growls. He doesn’t even look at you when he says it—just rips his flannel off, tosses it hard at the wall.

You don’t flinch. Don’t even look away from him as his shirt falls and crumples into a heap on the floor. “What?”

“You heard me,” he snaps, turning to look at you again. His eyes are dark, fiery. “Jesus, you—do you even fuckin’ think sometimes? You were hit. You knew you were hit, and you kept goin’. You didn’t stop, didn’t stay down like you were told.”

He steps closer, eyes boring into yours, face twisted with something too furious to be rational. “You fuckin’ chose to be a goddamn hero, huh? Run into gunfire like it ain’t a fuckin’ death sentence? That it?”

He can see the second your expression changes, your own anger rearing its ugly head now, bitter and hot. “Don’t do that. Don’t make this about me being reckless when you know I was just trying to keep people alive. I did what I had to do.”

“No!” he snaps, pointing a finger at you, furious and stricken all at once. “What you had to do was come home. That’s it. That’s all.”

You blink at him, breath caught in your throat.

Joel can’t stop, all the emotions he’s been dealt over the past three hours finally boiling over and spilling through his lips before he can think twice about what he’s saying.

“You could’ve died,” he growls, pacing now, hands dragging through his hair roughly like he’s trying to rip the anger out of himself. “Two fuckin’ inches to the left and that bullet would’ve torn straight through your gut. You think you’d’ve made it to town in time for that? Huh?”

“That’s not fair.”

“No,” he snarls, spinning on you, voice cracking. “It’s not fuckin’ fair. Nothin’ about this is. You go out there, and I sit at home waitin’ to see if today’s the day I lose you. That the last thing I heard is your voice cuttin’ out in the middle of a fuckin’ ambush. That’s what I got to live with now. That’s what I saw every time I closed my eyes on that ride back.”

You stand there, lost for words. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“I know you didn’t,” Joel says, suddenly quieter, throat thick. He swallows hard, looking down, shaking his head like he’s trying to get a grip. “But I still almost lost you. And I don’t—fuck—I don’t know what the hell I’d do if that ever—”

His voice cuts off, ragged. Then he’s in front of you again, cupping your face with both hands. “You’re not allowed to do that to me again,” he whispers fiercely. “You’re not allowed to scare me like that.”

“Joel…” You lean into him, slow. Cautious.

Joel meets you halfway.

His mouth is on yours in a heartbeat—hot and bruising and pathetically desperate. His big hands frame your face, thumbs dragging down your cheekbones as he licks a wet stripe over the plush seam of your lips.

You gasp into his mouth when he pushes the blanket off your shoulders, when his palms skate down your sides to grip your hips hard. Not too rough, not yet, but he’s holding you because he needs you rooted. Anchored. Here.

Joel kisses you like he’s still furious at you, like he hates how much he needs you, like he’s punishing you for making him feel so afraid. It’s not soft, all teeth and tongue as he devours you, stealing the breath from your lungs.

When he pulls back, his mouth is wet with your spit, lips pink and swollen. “Need to taste you,” he mutters. “Need to feel you.”

Joel sinks to his knees before you can respond, breath huffing harshly against your stomach. His fingers tug your zipper down with frantic urgency, hooking his thumbs in your waistband to peel your pants down your legs in one swift motion.

There’s no teasing. No smugness. Just a heavy, sharp hunger carved into his face like stone as he pulls your panties to the side, exposing you to his greedy eyes. His hands slide under your thighs, lifting one over his shoulder as he brings his mouth to you like a man possessed.

The first drag of his tongue is slow. Reverent. Hot and wet as he parts the slick seam of your cunt with deliberate strokes that make your spine arch. He groans like your taste knocks the wind out of him, and then he latches on like he’s got a point to prove—to himself or you, he’s not sure. All he knows is that worshipping you is the only penance that could soothe the panic still clawing at his insides.

“Joel.” Your hands tangle in his hair, chin falling to your chest as you gaze down at him.

He sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue relentless, nose pressed deep against you. You whimper, twisting his hair in your grip, hips twitching—Joel doesn’t let you go anywhere. He’s got you trapped, your body pinned with his mouth buried between your thighs like he plans to die there.

It’s filthy, obscene—the way he devours you. Lips slick, beard growing damper with each swirl of his tongue, eyes half-lidded but still trained on your own.

Your eyes are glassy, pupils blown wide and black as spilled ink. There’s sweat beaded on your brow, lips parted and swollen as you let out small huffs of air.

Your thighs are trembling. You're soaked, arching against him, whimpering his name with tears welling in your eyes. And still—still—he won’t let up. He needs this. Needs to make you fall apart. Needs to prove to himself you’re alive by the way your body sings under his touch.

Joel can’t stop. Not until your thighs shake and you’re moaning that you’re gonna come, gonna come, Joel, please—

And you do. You fall apart on his tongue with a broken sob, legs clenching tight around his ears, hips grinding down into his mouth in weak twitches and shudders. He growls and holds you still, licking you through every last tremor until your body goes limp and threatens to sink to the floor.

Joel doesn��t let you fall—he lowers you down gently, like you’re made of spun glass, even as his hands skirt over the hem of your shirt. When he pulls it up, revealing the bandages wound tight around your side, he pauses. His gaze lingers on the wound. Jaw clenched. Something soft and wrecked flickers in his eyes.

Your hand comes up to cup the side of his face, your thumb running over the scar across his temple so gently it has his heart throbbing in his chest. “I’m okay,” you whisper. “Still here.”

Joel takes your wrist in his hand, lowering it down enough to press it hard over his heart. “You feel that?” he breaths. “That hasn’t stopped hammerin’ since I heard your voice cut out.”

You nod slowly. Your fingers curl into his shirt. “I’m sorry.”

Joel squeezes your wrist, turning his head to press a soft kiss to your forearm.

He climbs up over you, chest to chest—the jut of his cock where it tents the denim of his jeans grinds over the sensitive span of your cunt as he settles himself between your legs. He’s thick, heavy even through all the layers.

Joel’s free hand snakes down his body, making quick work of his belt. He rips his zipper down, freeing his cock from the confines of his soaked boxers and letting it slap up against his stomach.

You moan at the sight of it—hard, straining, the tip a dusty red and wet with pre-come. Your legs widen unconsciously, thighs twitching on either side of Joel’s hips.

Joel takes himself in his hand, fist tight over the base of his cock as he runs himself through your puffy cunt, slicking the skin of his cock with your wetness. “Gonna fuck you,” he breathes, lining himself up between your legs. “Gonna feel you around me, baby, need it so damn bad.”

Joel slides in with one long, smooth stroke, your slick making it easy, and the groan he lets out sounds like pain. Like relief. Like he might lose his mind from the heat of you. Your breath hitches at the stretch, head lolling back against the hardwood as your nails dig into his shoulders.

“Mine,” he grits through his teeth, forehead pressed to yours, his hips grinding deeper as you cling to him. “You’re mine, baby. Always—always mine.”

You nod, panting, eyes glassy. “All yours,” you whisper. “Only yours, Joel.”

And then he moves.

Hard.

Desperate.

Unrelenting.

He fucks you like you’re the only thing tethering him to earth, like if he stops, he’ll unravel entirely. One arm hooks under your knee, pushing you open, deeper than before. His hips slap against yours, raw and hopelessly, but it’s not about getting off.

It’s about feeling you.

Every squeeze, every tremble, every gasp that leaves your mouth when he hits that perfect spot.

Joel’s never felt like this before.

So angry.

So scared.

So in love.

He fucks you like he’s trying to imprint himself inside your body. His thrusts stitch you back to him, sealing you inside his chest so you can never leave. A mess of skin-on-skin and heat and slick as the two of you meet again and again and again.

“Could’ve lost you,” he growls against your throat. “Fuck, honey, I could’ve—Jesus—”

You wrap your arms around him. “You didn’t,” you whisper. “I’m here, Joel—I’m yours—”

He groans, hips stuttering, thrusts turning frantic. He can tell he’s close, that he’s been close since he sank to his knees in front of you.

“Say it again,” he pants, slamming into you with a low, wrecked noise. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you gasp. “Always yours—fuck, Joel—”

You wrap your arms tighter around him, pulling him closer. Your nails dig into his skin through the thin layer of his undershirt, legs locking around his waist to keep him pressed against you like you’re scared he’ll let go.

Joel doesn’t let go. He’d never let go. Not even when you moan his name like a prayer, not even when your nails rake down his back, not even when you gasp out a warning, your voice thin and needy. “Joel, I—gonna—”

“I know, baby. I got you.” His hand snakes down between you, finding your clit and rubbing quick circles over it, desperate to feel you come. “Wanna feel you. Need to—fuck—need to feel you, sweetheart. Please.”

You shatter in his arms with a broken sob, clenching hard around him as your body jerks, overwhelmed and too raw to hide it. Joel feels you pulse around his cock, the tight warmth of your cunt milking him.

It’s too much, and he’s coming with a groan that sounds like it’s been clawed from his chest. He buries himself to the hilt, hips jerking with every pulse, breath catching in your ear. “Fuck, fuck—” he pants, voice hoarse, “—love you, I love you, I thought I lost you, baby, I can’t…”

You’re both trembling when it ends.

Joel holds you there for a long time, forehead resting against yours, still buried deep inside you. He still won’t let you go. Not yet.

Eventually, when he’s calmed, he pulls back just enough to look at you.

You expect that same look from earlier—rage, fear, guilt—but it’s not there. Just love. Just deep, aching relief.

“I can’t lose you,” he says quietly. “I wouldn’t survive it.”

You reach up, trace the curve of his brow, the edge of his jaw. “You won’t have to,” you whisper.

Joel kisses you again. Softer this time. Sweeter. A delicate press of lips against lips. His fingers stroke your cheek, pulling back enough for his eyes to trace along your face. He follows the line of your brows, the shape of your nose, the soft curve of your lips.

He can’t feel anything other than love.

Gentle. Solid. Steady.

It’s only love.

mini nat's note: everyone please send good vibes for my hell sent ch*m final on monday...i literally need all the luck i can get. thank you so much for reading! mwah.

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shadowfoxsilver · 1 year ago

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Some quick tips to spotting accounts that are pretending to be a Palestinian needing mutual aid. Please keep in mind that not all of them are scam accounts, and that some may legitimate blogs who just aren’t too knowledgeable on how tumblr works. This guide is based around what I go by when checking certain blogs and usually it’s a quick giveaway the blog is a scam.

Please read this post too from my other blog before you tell people don’t donate to gfms:

1. You was sent the ask as someone who regularly shares Palestine related content such as regular news updates of posts by other Palestinians who are regularly giving updates. You may also get these asks from sharing a popular post that is from the Palestine tag. If you post often about Palestine, you will always start getting these asks. These askers don’t care if you state don’t send the asks. They will anyway. Unfortunately minors also get sent asks.

2. The ask has odd formatting such as having odd quotation marks in it or unusual formatting that may indicate it’s been edited and copied from somewhere else. Often the ask is the same thing as the post itself minus a link to a donation site. These asks rarely change so searching it should pull up if it’s been sent to other bloggers and sometimes the asks are edited only to add new phrases to them in time.

3. The account is almost always a few days old or a week old or long depending on how often they have sent asks. Usually some may even be an hour old and reusing a familiar pfp/ask.

4. The blog has a few Palestine related posts or posts from random tags reblogged to pad out length and then no more. They will have no original posts besides the pinned post while occasionally answering asks that they may have received but otherwise nothing else and no further updates given either.

5. They may have a Linktree link that is called “GoFundMe” as if indicating they have a GoFundMe there. However, they don’t. When clicked on, the Linktree actually goes to a PayPal account whose name may not even match the one their supposed name is. They’ll say it’s a friend, but it’s just the same person not someone else. You’ll see this same name across multiple accounts after a while usually giving away it’s not legitimate even under a different theme.

6. The text used by the blogs are often real stories stolen from legitimate fundraisers and searching parts of it in your preferred search engine should pull up the sources. These sources make no mention of a tumblr account either or don’t have the PayPal account associated with them in the info. Scammers often impersonate a real person in need and will ignore you if you show them the source they copied from.

7. Legitimate Palestinians often link to their own GoFundMe posts that their friends have set up or post links to other social platforms they are found on. They will regularly post updates when possible, post sources to support them when necessary, and also generally have some method of verifying their legitimacy. They may often share links to support others as well or give links to charities that have been shown as reliable. They will have more original posts than just a single pinned one and regularly speak to other tumblr accounts beyond just an ask. Please don’t bother them with asks about possible scam accounts. There are many guides out there that can do that for you if you search. You may find verified fundraisers too.

8. Scammers don’t know anything about Palestine and will often have trouble once you ask them anything beyond the mutual aid post. They don’t know the languages decently and you can tell it pretty easily if you’re one who uses it regularly. Whatever the scammers use is often just copied off the site they got the post from. Sometimes the text is just reused from past scams such as asking for insulin that doesn’t last long.

9. These scammers can and will use names stolen off real Palestinians to look more legitimate and trustworthy. They change names constantly once one of their PayPal accounts is shut down.

10. If you do see a GoFundMe link on a blog, don’t immediately assume it’s a scam just because it’s a relatively new account. Check the post notes to see if anyone’s verified the account yet or wait a bit as it takes time. You likely can search around to see if anyone’s posted anything where the blog has been vetted by others. You may also see if the GoFundMe is referred to on other socials or on lists that compile verified and vetted fundraisers.

Please don’t let these scams deter you from sending support where it needs to go. Even if you can’t donate personally, there are other ways to help. If you are sending money, please make sure that it’s going to where it’s needed and the place it’s sent has been verified accordingly. If you find a blog is a scammer, and have been able to prove it, please make sure to alert anyone sharing the post and report the account.

#how to spot a scam blog #scam #Palestine #psa #important info #long post is long

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creativepromptsforwriting · 5 months ago

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Drabble List #12

75 prompts to write drabbles or longer stories.

"Everyone should be delighted to know me."

"Tick tock, the clock is ticking."

"What a fantastic idea!"

"Not going to destroy the world or anything."

"You're awful at solving riddles."

"That was a poor decision."

"Do you really think you can handle the truth?"

"I never thought I'd see you again."

"Why did you lie to me?"

"This isn't the end, it's just the beginning."

"You promised you'd never leave."

"There's more to this story than you know."

"I'm not the hero you think I am."

"Sometimes, doing the right thing means making tough choices."

"If you walk away now, don't bother coming back."

"I've kept this secret for far too long."

"Are you sure you're ready for this?"

"They'll never believe us, but we have to try."

"I can't believe you just said that."

"No one else knows, and it has to stay that way."

"Do you trust me?"

"We can't let them win."

"You have no idea what you're getting into."

"This changes everything."

"I thought I knew you."

"I've waited my whole life for this moment."

"You were the last person I expected to see."

"Why does it always have to be you?"

"We're running out of time."

"Do you think they suspect anything?"

"I've made up my mind."

"This isn't what I signed up for."

"How can you be so sure?"

"We can't afford any mistakes."

"You can't keep running away from your past."

"What are we supposed to do now?"

"Sometimes, the hardest thing is to let go."

"You know this isn't right."

"What are you hiding from me?"

"We have to stick together."

"I'm not giving up on you."

"There's no turning back now."

"I never wanted any of this."

"What if we don't have a choice?"

"It's time to face the music."

"You have to trust your instincts."

"Everything we've worked for is at stake."

"I didn't expect you to understand."

"This is our only shot."

"I'm not interested anymore."

"You owe me an explanation."

"We can't do this alone."

"I thought you were on my side."

"This is bigger than both of us."

"What do you have to lose?"

"I can't pretend anymore."

"You're not as invisible as you think."

"What's the worst that could happen?"

"You're the only one who can help."

"We need to be careful."

"Are you with me?"

"No, this is enough."

"I don't think I can do this."

"Ok, so sue me."

"What a fine young man."

"This isn't about you."

"I know what I have to do."

"We need to find a way out."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"It's not as simple as it seems."

"I can't believe it's come to this."

"This isn't over yet."

"What's the plan?"

"Take me to court."

"There's no easy answer."

Drabble Masterlist

Have fun creating and writing!

If you like my blog and want to support me, you can buy me a coffee or become a member! And check out my Instagram! 🥰

#drabble prompt list #writing ideas #writeblr #writing prompts #writers on tumblr #drabbles

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cinnamorollcrybaby · 24 days ago

Note

CINNA MY BELOVED IVE BEEN SAVING THIS REQ JUST FOR U IM SO HAPPY THEYRE OPEN (im so happy ur back btw i was checking ur blog religiously every day)

choso thinking he hates reader when in reality it’s just cuteness aggression but he doesn’t understand because he’s new to being a human

begging on my KNEES 🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️

Cuteness Aggression (Choso’s Ver.)

Tags: Choso x fem!Reader, fluff, very slightly suggestive, mdni anyway, not proofread, is this considered enemies to lovers?

An: this idea is so stinking adorable. i get cuteness aggression so bad, so i definitely relate here lol

you get the feeling that choso doesn’t like you very much.

it’s the way his dark eyes narrow at you with a fervent glare. it’s the way his body tenses whenever you’re too close to him. it’s the way that he’ll make sure to never be alone in a room with you.

you’ve tried everything you know to make him feel at ease while he talks to you, but nothing works. he’s quiet, reserved, and honestly, a little peeved when it comes to talking to you.

you don’t get it. the rest of jujutsu tech seems to accept your presence. sure, you weren’t in japan when the shibuya incident went down, so maybe he just saw you as some outsider who couldn’t grasp the horrors that everyone went through together.

deciding that there’s not much you can do to change choso’s perception of you, you give up. you stop seeking him out. you quit trying to make some sort of friendship happen between you.

that only pisses him off ten times worse.

choso has never experienced feelings like these ever in his lifetime. it’s always been clean cut and dry for him: he either liked someone or he didn’t. there were no grey areas when he was just a curse.

yuji itadori was the one who introduced him to all these… complex emotions. he was still learning day by day what living like a human entailed.

he thought he had it all down… until he met you. now, he felt like a complete contradiction.

your voice was so soft and sweet. it made his heart flutter uncontrollably, which he hated. he wanted to cover your mouth with his palm to shut you up.

your skin looked so smooth and supple. he constantly found himself wondering what it’d feel like if he bit down into it. he wanted to hear what kind of noises you’d make. would you whine from discomfort or moan quietly?

he was physically bigger than you, not that you ever seemed to care. you were constantly there… pestering him. he just wanted to wrap you up in his arms and squeeze you as tightly at he could.

maybe he could but you in some sort of headlock and just hold you there. would you bite him to get away? shit… there it is again.

he growled beneath his breath as his pants feel tight again. he just doesn’t understand. why would his body react this way when he clearly hates you??

he hates the way you make him feel, like he’s unsteady on a tightrope. he hates the way he looks forward to seeing you. he hates how he feels so violent while you’re around, but he doesn’t really wanna hurt you…

it’s all so terrible perplexing. he wants to feel you so close to him that your atoms begin to merge with his.

choso doesn’t fully understand what’s happening to him. that was until your head slowly rested on his shoulder during a debriefing meeting.

it had been a long, grueling mission for everyone involved. he knew you were exhausted, and your cute self decided to take a nap right there on his shoulder.

that’s when things started to click for him as he felt suddenly protective over you. he didn’t want to hurt you. he wanted you for himself.

“oh no, y/n’s asleep. we should wake her, right?” one of the kyoto jujutsu tech students said. he had never bothered to learn her name.

a hand reached towards you, and choso didn’t think twice before he slapped it away. “leave her alone,” he grunted, narrowing his eyes at everyone who was looking at you two. “she’s tired. she needs her rest.”

honestly, everyone was stunned by the fact that choso had spoke up at all, but they were especially surprised that he seemed to be completely content with you sleeping on his shoulder.

his eyes flickered down to your face, making sure you were still sleeping soundly on him. he felt the fluttering sensation in his chest, and his stomach churned. he hated this feeling, but he found himself not wanting this moment to end.

Taglist: @theuniversesnepobaby @airandyeah

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gojover · 2 months ago

Text

you, again — teaser

summary ⇢ he’s an assassin who won’t stop bleeding. you’re the medic who keeps patching him up—against your better judgement. sylus flirts like it’s a sport; you threaten him with scalpels. when a botched job entangles you in his world, things get messy fast—emotionally, and otherwise. you’d rather die than fall for a man like him. he’s already dying not to fall for you.

pairing ⇢ assassin!sylus qin x medic!fem!reader contains ⇢ romance, angst, smut, slow burn, annoyances to lovers au, assassin au, blood, injuries, violence. full warnings to be included in the fic. teaser word count ⇢ 0.36k (expected: 15k-17k)

“You okay?” he asks suddenly, tilting his head to glance down at you. His voice is quieter now, less performative.

You shrug. “Just thinking.”

“Dangerous habit,” he says. “Try not to develop too many of those.”

“Too late. I already treat you like a human being.”

He laughs at that. “Touché.”

You fall into silence again, footsteps syncing easily as you cross another intersection. You’re close to home now, and the streets are darker here, the kind of dark that stretches long and holds its breath. You catch the edge of a shadow out of the corner of your eye, but it disappears when you turn to look. Maybe a cat. Maybe nothing. Still, your fingers tense in your coat pocket, brushing against the cheap folding knife you started carrying a few months ago. Just in case.

Sylus doesn’t seem bothered. But he hasn’t stopped scanning the streets. “You should just move in with me.”

“What for?” you ask lightly, though you know why.

“I can keep you safe,” he answers.

You blink. The wind picks up between the buildings, rattling a loose sign overhead. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barks once, sharp, before falling silent.

It’s suddenly way too easy to remember that you know almost nothing about him. That all your time together has been fluorescent-lit and bloodstained. That he always shows up with new bruises and never says where they came from. You slow when your building comes into view.

“This is me,” you say, nodding towards the stoop.

He stops behind you and doesn’t follow. For a second, you expect him to say something—maybe a joke, maybe a goodbye—but instead, he’s just looking at you. Really looking at you, like he’s memorising something he’s not sure he’ll get to see again.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone,” he says finally. “Not these days.”

You frown. “Why? What’s happening?”

Sylus doesn’t answer. Just steps back once and gives you a tired, crooked smile. “Goodnight, doc.”

Then he turns and disappears into the dark like he’s part of it. You climb the stairs, unlock your door, and double-check the locks; then, you watch the street out of your bedroom window long after he’s gone.

a/n: hello! thank you so much for checking out my teaser! if you’d like to be tagged in the full fic, please send an ask/comment & make sure you have an age indicator on your blog. thank you, also, for 2,000+ followers! it’s insane that there are so many of you here with me, supporting my writing, and i am so grateful to every single one of you 💌

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inseobts · 2 months ago

Note

Thank you for all your amazing writing! Your blogs seriously make my day every time. Could you write a Law x reader where the reader falls ill with a rare, incurable disease? I just keep thinking about Law experiencing what Corazon went through back then… 😭 It can have a SE or HE, whatever you feel fits best!"

Terminal

law × reader

part 2

you fall ill with a rare, incurable disease and law refuses to accept it.

a/n: this was so sad T.T btw as I said in my rules post I don’t write about this kind of topic, but given that law’s story is about that I wanted to give it a try

words count: 4.2k

tags: terminal illness, soft, angst, worried law

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

“You’re burning up.”

Law’s voice is calm, but you know him well enough to hear the tension beneath it. His hand lingers on your forehead, cool against your feverish skin.

You force a grin, despite the way your body aches “That’s just the effect you have on me.”

His expression doesn’t change. If anything, his brows knit together further, golden eyes dark with something unreadable.

“Don’t joke” he says flatly.

“Come on, it was funny” you mumble, but your voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper.

Law exhales sharply. He presses two fingers against your wrist, checking your pulse. You see the flicker of something in his eyes. Worry.

“Since when?”

“Since when what?”

“Since you started feeling like this.” His voice drops lower, more controlled “Don’t lie.”

You sigh, shifting under the blanket “A few days ago. Maybe a week?”

“A week?” His jaw clenches, and you watch the way his fingers curl into a fist “And you didn’t tell me?”

“You were busy, Law,” you murmur “I didn’t want to bother you.”

His reaction is immediate. His eyes darken, sharp and cutting, and for a second, you swear he’s actually angry. But when he speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper.

“You think I wouldn’t drop everything for you?”

Your breath catches. You can’t look at him. Instead, you force out another weak chuckle “Well, you are a very important pirate, Captain.”

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Pretending it’s nothing.”

You open your mouth to argue, but before you can, a sudden wave of dizziness crashes over you. The world tilts, your vision swims, and you barely register the way your body sways before Law is already there, steady hands catching you before you can fall.

“Y/N” His grip tightens around you, firm, grounding “I need to run some tests.”

You rest your forehead against his shoulder, too exhausted to protest “…That bad?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. You feel his heartbeat being too fast, too tense.

When he finally speaks, it’s quiet. Almost too quiet.

“I’m going to fix this.”

And for the first time ever since you know him, you don’t believe him.

The beeping of medical equipment fills the silence.

You sit on Law’s examination table, legs dangling as he adjusts the monitor beside you. His brows are furrowed, golden eyes locked onto the screen, and even though he hasn’t said a word in the last five minutes, you can practically hear the gears turning in his head.

The tension in the air is unbearable.

“Are you always this serious when you play doctor, or am I just special?” you tease, tilting your head at him.

Nothing. Not even a smirk.

You sigh dramatically “Come on, Law. You can’t even crack a smile for your beloved patient?”

“You’re not a patient,” he mutters “You’re my partner.”

His words send a little warmth through your chest, but before you can respond, he steps closer and gently presses his fingers against your wrist, feeling for your pulse again.

The warmth fades when you notice the way his hand lingers just a little too long.

“You like holding my hand that much?” you tease, forcing a grin “If you wanted to be romantic, you could’ve just asked.”

This time, his jaw tightens “Your pulse is weak.”

You try to wave him off with your free hand “That’s just because you’re touching me. Makes my heart stops, you know?”

“Y/N...” he warns, voice sharp.

You falter.

His hand moves to your other wrist, then your neck, fingers pressing lightly against your skin. His eyes are unreadable, but his silence is louder than anything he could say.

“…You’re scared” you murmur before you can stop yourself.

Law stiffens, but doesn’t deny it.

The realization makes your stomach twist, but you force another smile “Don’t worry, I’m still cute even when I’m dying.”

That does it. His head snaps up, eyes blazing “Don’t say that.”

The weight of his words hangs between you, heavy, suffocating.

You swallow “Sorry. Just trying to make you laugh.”

“Not funny” he mutters.

You look away, fingers curling against the examination table.

Another long silence. Then, his hands are suddenly on either side of your face, tilting your head up gently so you’re looking at him again. His touch is careful, but his grip is firm, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go.

His voice is quieter this time “You’re not dying.”

You stare at him. For a moment, you want to believe him, but the way his hands tremble against your skin tells you otherwise.

After a while, Law stares at the test results, fingers tightening around the paper. His golden eyes flick over the numbers, the medical jargon, the hard, undeniable facts.

It’s terminal.

He’s quiet... too quiet. That’s the first thing that unsettles you. You’re used to his silence, but this is different. This is suffocating.

“So?” You swing your legs lightly from the examination table, forcing a smirk “What’s the verdict, Doc? Am I dying?”

Silence.

The smirk falters “Law?”

His fingers crumple the edge of the paper. His jaw tightens. And then, so softly that you almost don’t hear it, he says “…It’s incurable.”

For a second, you swear time stops.

The words don’t register at first. They don’t make sense. It’s like your brain refuses to process them.

And then you laugh.

It bursts out before you can stop it, light, teasing, just like every other joke you’ve made today “Wow, dramatic. You make it sound like I’m already in my grave.”

He doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t even look at you.

The smile on your lips wavers.

“You’re kidding, right?”

His hands tighten into fists at his sides. He still won’t look at you.

Your heart pounds a little faster “Law. Tell me you’re joking.”

Nothing.

The laugh that slips out this time is shaky “Come on, then this is the part where you tell me there’s some rare treatment, right? Some experimental surgery? You’re Trafalgar freakin’ Law, Surgeon of Death. There’s no way—”

“y/n.”

The way he says your name, quiet, strained, makes the air leave your lungs.

Your fingers curl against the fabric of your shirt. The examination table feels too cold beneath you. The walls feel like they’re closing in.

“No...” you whisper.

Law’s lips press into a thin line. His hands twitch, like he wants to reach for you, but he doesn’t.

“No” you say again, more forcefully this time. You shake your head, heat rising in your chest, crawling up your throat “You’re wrong. There’s... there’s gotta be something. You just haven’t figured it out yet. Right?”

“Y/N—”

“No!” The word cracks as it leaves you “I’m not dying!”

Your vision blurs. Your hands shake. And suddenly, it’s too much.

Your body moves before you can think, you push yourself off the table, right into his chest.

Law catches you instantly, arms wrapping around you, steady, grounding. And just like that, everything shatters.

“I don’t—I don’t want to die” you choke out, gripping his coat like it’s the only thing keeping you here “I want to stay. With you. I want—” Your voice breaks “I want a future. I want us to be happy. I want—”

A sob wracks through you.

“I want a family with you.”

Law stiffens.

The words spill out before you can stop them, you smile at him between your tears “A little version of you, all broody and nerdy and so so cute” You let out a wet laugh, broken and trembling “They’d probably scowl just like you, but they’d love books and have messy hair and—”

Your voice crumbles into sobs.

Law doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t move.

And then his arms tighten around you, crushing, like he’s trying to hold you together, keep you from falling apart.

His voice is hoarse when he finally speaks.

“I’m going to save you.”

You want to believe him.

Only God knowa how much you want to believe him.

But the fear in his voice tells you even he isn’t sure.

The next morning, you wake up to find Law hunched over his desk, surrounded by stacks of medical books and scattered notes.

You sigh “You didn’t sleep, did you?”

“Sleep is a waste of time,” he mutters, scribbling something down “I need to go through every known case—”

“You need to stop already.”

He freezes.

Slowly, he turns to look at you. His dark circles are deeper than usual, his face unreadable, but you know him. You know that behind that impassive expression, he’s desperate.

You force a grin “If I really only have a little time left, do you really wanna waste it buried in books instead of spending it with me?”

Law’s fingers tighten around his pen.

“I’m not giving up” he says, voice low.

“I know,” you say gently “But I don’t want to spend my last time watching you drive yourself insane. If I’m gonna die, I wanna die happy.”

The words sting, but they’re true.

Law exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. He doesn’t respond.

You hop off the bed, stretching dramatically “Anyway, I’ve decided I’m done being sad. It’s exhausting. So I’m back, and better than ever!” You flash him a grin “That means full-time comedy and flirting, just for you, Captain!”

His brow twitches “Y/N...”

You wag a finger at him “Shh, let me have this.” You strike a pose “Behold, Trafalgar D. Law’s hottest, funniest girlfriend! Incurable disease edition!”

Nothing.

You pout “Wow. Tough crowd.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose “Why do I put up with this?”

“Because I’m irresistible,” you say, leaning closer “And because you love me.”

His breath hitches for just a second.

And then, quietly “Yeah.”

You blink. Your cheeks burn “Whoa, that was easier than I thought. If I’d known getting a lovely love confession was that easy, I would’ve faked a terminal disease ages ago.”

“Not funny” he mutters.

You snicker “Okay, okay, this one wasn't the best.”

Law sighs, shaking his head. But when he looks at you, his gaze lingers, like he’s memorizing you. Like he’s terrified you’ll disappear if he looks away.

And suddenly, the atmosphere shifts. Because this is too familiar to him.

The way you laugh, the way you grin like you aren’t dying, like none of this is real... it reminds him of Corazon. Always smiling. Always laughing. Even with blood in his mouth. Even when he knew he was going to die.

A lump forms in Law’s throat.

You notice his change in expression instantly “Hey. What’s wrong?”

His fingers twitch at his sides “Nothing” he lies.

But you see it in his eyes, the fear.

You sigh, stepping closer, reaching for his hands. His fingers are cold. You squeeze them.

“Law,” you say softly “I’m not trying to leave you behind. I just... I don’t want you to only remember me as the person who was sick, who died. I want you to remember me smiling. Happy. With you. Because that's what I am.”

His hands tighten around yours.

He doesn’t say anything. But when you squeeze his hands again, he squeezes back.

You think Law has finally accepted things.

You think he’s finally listening to you, finally spending time with you instead of drowning himself in books and medical theories. And for a while, he does.

He stays close, fingers brushing against yours when you walk, arms wrapping around you when he thinks no one is looking. Some nights, he holds you a little too tight, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go.

It makes you happy. It makes you feel alive. But then, he starts again.

The sleepless nights. The books. The notes. The obsessive, frantic research.

You wake up one night to find the bed empty.

Again.

With a sigh, you push yourself up. You grip the blanket, taking slow, even breaths, waiting for your vision to finally settles, you get up and pad toward Law’s office.

You don’t bother knocking.

“Law...”

He doesn’t look up. He’s hunched over his desk, surrounded by open books, pages filled with diagrams of Devil Fruits and medical notes scribbled in his messy handwriting. His coat is discarded on the chair, sleeves rolled up, hands gripping a pen so tightly his knuckles are white.

You frown “What are you doing?”

“Working.” His voice is hoarse.

“Yeah, I can see that, genius. But on what?”

He finally looks at you. There’s something wild in his eyes, desperation, determination, obsession.

You step closer. Your gaze flickers to the notes. And then your heart stops.

“Law,” you whisper, throat dry “Are you... are you trying to find me a Devil Fruit?”

“Not just any Devil Fruit,” he mutters, flipping a page. His fingers move fast, tracing over diagrams “Something similar to the Ope Ope no Mi. Something that could manipulate your body, enhance cellular regeneration, maybe even reprogram the disease out of you.”

Your stomach drops.

“Law.”

“I just need to find the right one.” He keeps going like he hasn’t heard you “There’s research, fragments of old studies, theories. If I can modify a fruit’s properties, or find a compatible—”

“Law!”

He flinches.

You swallow, hands shaking “You can’t just... you can’t force me to eat a Devil Fruit.”

He glares at you, jaw clenched “If it’s the only way to save you, then yes, I can.”

The air crackles between you.

For the first time, you see that he won’t stop. He won’t accept it. Not like you have.

You take a shaky breath “You’re trying to save me the same way Corazon saved you...”

His body tenses.

“You think if I eat a fruit like yours, I’ll survive just like you did.”

Silence.

“I won’t lose you” he whispers.

Your heart clenches.

You step closer, reaching for his face, cupping his cheek. He leans into your touch immediately, like he’s starved for it.

“Law,” you say softly “You can’t fix this, and it's okay.”

He squeezes his eyes shut “There’s always a way.”

You shake your head “Even if there is… do you really want to spend our last moments like this? Chasing something that might not even exist?”

His breath shudders against your palm.

For the first time, he doesn’t have an answer.

Law is different after that night.

He still spends hours in his office, buried in books, chasing after a cure that may not exist. He still barely sleeps, barely eats, his mind running in endless circles of calculations and medical theories.

But now he makes time for you.

It starts small. Sitting next to you on the deck, staring at the ocean in comfortable silence. Letting you lean against him while he reads, his hand absentmindedly brushing over yours.

Then, it becomes more. Stealing moments with you in the kitchen, pretending to help while you cook, though he mostly just watches you with those quiet, golden eyes. Taking you to watch the sunset, fingers grazing against yours but never quite holding on.

And sometimes, when he thinks no one is looking, he smiles.

It reminds you of something he once told you.

“Even now you’re trying to do what Corazon did for you, aren’t you?” you say one night, breaking the silence.

Law tenses beside you.

The two of you are lying on the bed, facing each other. It’s one of the rare nights he actually gets in bed with you instead of falling asleep at his desk. His fingers hover near your wrist, not quite touching, just barely brushing your skin.

He doesn’t answer right away. But you see it in his eyes.

“I’m not like him” he mutters.

You smile, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind his ear “You’re right. From what you told me, he was goofier. More dramatic.”

His lips twitch “That sounds more like you.”

“Maybe,” you hum “But you’re doing exactly what he did. You’re trying to give me happy memories while working yourself to death behind my back.”

His eyes darken.

You brush a hand against his jaw, feeling the slight stubble there. He looks exhausted, but you know that no matter what you tell him, he won’t stop.

“You can’t save everyone, Law” you whisper.

His grip tightens around the sheets “I can save you.”

You close your eyes, exhaling softly.

“Then at least promise me something” you murmur.

He waits.

“When I go—”

“You’re not—”

“When I go,” you say again, firmer this time, “I want you to keep going. Don’t disappear. Don’t close yourself off.”

Law stares at you, his expression unreadable.

“You think I could just move on?” he finally asks, voice raw.

“I think,” you say, fingers brushing against his, “that you deserve to be happy.”

He doesn’t answer.

But later that night, when he thinks you’re asleep, you feel his hand finally take yours. And for the first time, you wonder who’s more afraid of losing the other, you or him.

For the first time in weeks, Law looks alive.

He bursts into the Polar Tang’s main room, eyes sharp, steps quick, movements filled with purpose. His coat flares behind him as he scans the room, spotting the Heart Pirates scattered around, Shachi and Penguin bickering, Bepo munching on a snack, Ikkaku polishing her tools.

“All of you,” he orders, voice firm, urgent “Meeting. Now.”

The crew blinks at him.

“Whoa, Captain, you good?” Penguin asks, tilting his head “You look—”

“Awake,” Shachi finishes “Which is weird, considering you haven’t slept in days.”

“Meeting. Now.” Law repeats, already turning toward the control room.

Bepo exchanges glances with the others before nodding “Let’s go.”

Within minutes, the crew is gathered. The room is tense, because they can feel it. Something has changed.

Law places both hands on the table, looking at them with determination burning in his golden eyes.

“I’ve found a cure.”

Silence.

Then Penguin nearly chokes “Wait, what?!”

“You...” Shachi’s eyes widen “You’re serious?”

Bepo’s ears twitch “Captain…”

Law nods, rolling out a hand-drawn diagram of an unknown Devil Fruit.

“It’s called the Vita Vita no Mi,” he explains “A Devil Fruit that enhances the body’s ability to regenerate and purge diseases. It was recorded in old medical texts from over a century ago, lost, believed to be a myth. But I found something.”

He flips to another page.

“There were reports of this fruit appearing in a black-market trade just over a decade ago. Tracked to an island in the Grand Line.” His gaze hardens “We’re going there.”

The crew stares.

“You mean—” Ikkaku leans forward “You mean there’s a chance?”

“A damn good one,” Law says “If I can get my hands on this fruit, if I can modify its effects, then Y/N...”

He stops. Swallows.

“Then she survives.”

The weight of his words hits the crew all at once.

Shachi exhales sharply “Tell us what you need, Captain.”

Penguin nods “We’re in.”

Bepo clenches his fist “We’ll get that fruit.”

Law looks at them, the family he’s built, the people who trust him without question.

“Set course,” he orders “We leave now.”

And for the first time since this nightmare started, there’s hope.

The ship cuts through the Grand Line’s turbulent waters, the Polar Tang moving faster than it has in weeks. There’s a sense of urgency now, an undercurrent of hope that the crew has never felt before.

Law is different. His usual calm, stoic nature is there, but there’s a fire behind his eyes, a purpose that drives every action. He barely sleeps, constantly working to map out the island, planning for the worst.

Every night, before he goes to bed, he checks on you. His hands are gentle, his gaze searching, but he says nothing. He only watches you breathe, listens to the soft rise and fall of your chest.

In those moments, you think he’s not sure if you’ll be there when he returns.

But when he talks about the cure, when he speaks of the Vita Vita no Mi, the miracle fruit, you see the fire again. Hope.

And for a while, you let yourself believe.

Days pass. The island is in sight.

Law stands at the bow of the ship, eyes fixed on the shore.

“Keep steady” he commands, his voice cold, calculated.

You’re on the deck, staring at the sky as the island draws nearer. You’ve grown weaker over the past few days. The disease is ravaging your body, and you can feel it. But you smile through it, just like you promised.

Bepo stays by your side, as always. The big polar bear mink is there, standing guard, just as loyal as ever. His presence is a small comfort to you, he’s worried, you can tell, but he never presses.

You want to get up, join the crew, help them find the cure, but Bepo gently guides you back down when you try to stand, his big paw resting on your shoulder.

Bepo says softly “Captain’s got this.”

Law approaches, his figure towering over you, the weight of his gaze unmistakable.

“I’m going with you,” you say, your voice light, teasing “No way I’m letting you get all the glory, Captain.”

He crouches in front of you, his eyes softer than they’ve been in days.

“You’re staying here with Bepo.”

You blink at him “You don’t trust me to keep up with you?”

He smiles, just barely. It’s small, fleeting, but it’s there.

“Stay here, please.” His voice is quiet, almost a plea.

You want to argue, but the look in his eyes stops you.

You smile at him, though the effort is exhausting “I’ll just be here… waiting.”

The crew disembarks, heading into the thick jungle, with Law leading the charge. The air is thick, the path winding and treacherous. It’s as though the island doesn’t want them to succeed. But they don’t stop.

The days blur together as they search, scouring every inch of the land, every forest, every cave. Law is relentless. The fruit is out there. He knows it. He can feel it.

And then a blast of sound cuts through the jungle, a distant rumble that echoes in the air. Law’s eyes widen, his body tensing. Without a word, he sprints while teleporting himself.

The crew follows quickly, but the jungle seems to twist itself around them, the path becoming harder and more dangerous as they go.

Law doesn’t care. He’s focused on one thing now: getting back to you.

You’re lying on the deck, growing weaker by the minute, your breath shallow. You know the end is near.

But Bepo stays with you, his warm presence a steady anchor. He’s the one who brings you water, who keeps you from slipping into a fevered daze. He’s the one who makes sure you’re comfortable, even as your body is slowly shutting down.

“Hang in there,” he says softly, brushing a strand of hair out of your face “Captain will bring the cure back. I know he will.”

You want to reassure him, to tell him not to worry, but the words won’t come.

You reach for his paw weakly, and he holds your hand with surprising tenderness.

Hours pass. The night grows darker, and the crew has yet to return. The air is thick with tension.

Finally, the sound of heavy footsteps reaches the deck.

Law appears, drenched in sweat, his face hard but his eyes alive.

“Y/N…” His voice cracks as he kneels beside you, his hands immediately going to your face, checking for fever, your pulse.

“You found it?” you whisper, barely able to speak.

He nods, not trusting his voice. He opens his pack, pulling out the Vita Vita no Mi, the fruit wrapped carefully in cloth.

But before he can do anything, you stop him with a hand on his wrist.

“Law… don’t…” You cough, a weak laugh escaping you “I don’t know if it’ll work… if it’s too late…”

“No,” he insists, his voice desperate “It will work. I won’t let you—”

“I just wanted to be with you,” you whisper, the words barely audible “I wanted to see you happy… with me.”

Bepo steps back, his heart heavy, but he’s still there, watching over you.

Law hesitates, his eyes locked on yours. The fruit still rests in his hand, but he can’t bring himself to do it—not yet.

“Please,” you whisper, weakly gripping his hand “Just stay… stay with me.”

He looks at you, the flicker of fear in his eyes, fear of losing you, the same fear he’s been running from since Corazon.

“I won’t leave you,” Law says softly “I promised, remember?”

The crew now waits in the background, hearts clenched in their chests. They don’t speak. They don’t breathe.

The night stretches on, heavy with anticipation. But nothing happens.

Law continues to hold the fruit, watching you closely, waiting for a sign, a flicker of hope. But you’ve grown so still. The seconds feel like hours, and when Law finally lifts the fruit to your lips, your eyes flicker open again, meeting his.

You smile, the faintest of smiles.

“I’m sorry for not being stronger…” You pause, each word coming with effort, but you press on “But you have to live, okay? You have to keep going. Don’t waste your life… Please… don’t waste it… for me.”

His eyes widen in shock, and a single tear slips down his cheek.

“I can’t lose you” he whispers, his voice breaking.

But you just smile faintly, your hand weakly squeezing his “Even if this won't work, I need you to know you already saved me… You gave me this life, this love. Now live it, for both of us.”

Your eyes flutter shut once more, and the world holds its breath.

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lokis-army-77 · 1 year ago

Text

Sweet Treat

older!Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word Count: 3.4k

It's hot out and you see your older neighbor mowing his lawn. Lucky for you he invites you inside for a sweet treat.

Warning: 18+ I will block you if you are under 18 or have no age in your blog. oral (f receiving), p in v, fingering, like the slightest amount of food play, 40s eddie, 20s reader, fem reader, just a bit of cum eating

Thank you to my beta readers @munson-blurbs, @lofaewrites, @emma-munson and @littlexdeaths

Masterlist

It was sweltering outside, like hell was no longer a fictional place made up by religion but real, and its flames had reached Hawkins. The sun beat down on you so intensely that you thought your skin was melting.

You berate yourself for thinking that taking a walk outside in the middle of summer would be anything but awful and yet you're here.

Sweat dripped from your forehead as you finally made it back to your home, but instead of going straight inside something stopped you in your tracks.

Your neighbor, or your hot older neighbor, had started mowing. The sound of the motor roaring to life caught your attention, and the sight of the 45-year-old without his shirt on kept it.

The sun shining onto his sweat-soaked skin made him look ethereal, like a god on earth. It made your mouth water and your nerves vibrate.

He caught your eye a moment later and waved, you waved back and then made yourself look busy by checking your mailbox, nothing was there. You didn't want him to know you were gawking at him.

It must not have worked because as soon as the mower had turned on, it turned off and you heard your name being called in that deep timber.

You walk down your driveway, closer to where he sat on his machine.

"Hi, Mr. Munson," you greeted with a smile.

He sighs, "Thought I told you to call me Eddie."

You respond with a giggle, "I know, I just do it to aggravate you."

"Ah, so you think you're funny?"

"Oh, I know I am."

Eddie just chuckles at that, shaking his head.

Reaching a hand up, you wipe the sweat from your brow.

"Sure is hot."

"It is. You wanna come inside, I've got some cold water and a bit of butter pecan ice cream if you want any." He offers.

You wrinkle your nose, "Butter pecan? That's such an old man flavor."

"No, it isn't."

"Yes, it is. The only people who eat and enjoy butter pecan are over the age of 40." You enjoy the banter that usually flows between the two of you. It makes your stomach flutter and your knees weak.

He just rolls his eyes. "Well then, Sweetheart, I think I have just a bit of chocolate in the freezer with your name on it."

You finally walk up next to him as he stands from the mower. "Don't I just feel special."

Eddie looks at you smugly. “Ladies first.” He gestures for you to walk in front of him and you oblige.

There’s a swing to your hips that you hope catches his attention, especially with how much skin is exposed from the workout shorts you were wearing. You hear him cough, clearing his throat and you know it worked.

“Door’s unlocked,” he calls as you bound up the stairs.

Upon entering the house you’re hit with a blast of cold air. The AC was definitely turned down as far as it could go, it felt almost like a freezer.

Eddie enters only a moment after you, letting the door slam closed. He glides past you, a hand barely grazing our hip as he does. You follow him closely.

It's bright enough in the kitchen that he doesn't bother flipping the light on. He heads straight for the fridge.

Your eyes rake over him, taking in the flex of muscles as he bends to open the sliding freezer door. The way his arms bulge when he rummages through the depths had your mouth watering.

Giving a long sigh, Eddie stands up straight and turns to you with a pint of ice cream in hand.

“Looks like it's just old people ice cream if the princess is alright with that.”

“Oh, it's princess now?” You ask, taking a seat on the barstool next to the kitchen island.

Eddie shrugs, “Fits better since you're apparently too good for the best ice cream known to man.”

“I am not.”

He scrunches his face, you think it's cute. “I beg to differ.”

“I'm not, I'll eat your ice cream, no problem.”

“So you aren't going to complain that it's for old people?” He asks, settling at the counter next to you.

“Just open the carton.” You give his arm a slight shove.

He does as you say and pushes it closer to you before offering a spoon.

You take it and thank him before scooping a tiny bit of the sweet treat out. It's cold on your tongue and you hate to admit it but it was good.

“S'good isn't it?”

“Eh, it's okay.” You say, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of being right.

Taking another scoop, this time you bring the spoon slowly into your mouth, lapping up the ice cream in a more sensual manner as you make eye contact with the other man. Just barely, you can see his pupils dilate taking you in.

“You’ve got a little-” Eddie makes a vague gesture to the corner of his mouth.

Giggling a bit, you fein ignorance of the ice cream you let collect at the corner of your mouth. “Here?” you ask as you wipe at the opposite side.

And just as you thought he would, Eddie reaches over and smoothes his thumb over your lip, collecting what was there. Your breath hitches when he brings his thumb to his mouth and licks it clean. The sight of his tongue wetting the digit and the glisten of saliva in the light had your legs clenching.

You want him to do it again.

So, with another bite of ice cream, you make what you’re doing more obvious, letting the spoon paint the white treat over your lips. You know what it must look like, salacious and borderline inappropriate if your mind was in the gutter, which is where you know Eddie’s is at that moment.

He takes a deep, shaky breath, “Fuck-” He’s surging toward you before you can even comprehend it. Soft, plump lips connect with yours. You freeze in shock for just a moment, then you kiss him back.

The spoon in your hand drops to the counter, rattling loudly. You reach your arms around his neck and pull him into you. Eddie slips his tongue between your lips and lets out a groan. He tastes like butter pecan and something you can’t quite place, something you can only describe as Eddie.

You can’t get enough and just when you start to wrestle your tongue against his, he pulls away and creates a space between the two of you.

A hand rubs over his face and he sight. “We can’t be doing this.” His tone is reluctant.

Furrowing your brows, you ask, “Why not?”

Eddie looks at you and flits his eyes from your kiss-swollen lips to the dismayed expression in your eyes. “Are you serious? I’m too old for you.”

“Last I checked, 45 wasn’t that old.”

“Sweetheart, I have tattoos older than you.” He shakes his head.

“Eddie, I’m a grown adult who knows what she wants and to put it frankly, you have been at the top of that list for quite some time.” You pause to examine his expression. His brow is cross and he’s gnawing on the inside of his cheek. “Is it my consent that you need? Because you have it.”

“God, this is probably a bad idea,” he whispers to himself and then he's on you once more. His large hands squeeze at your waist until they find their way under the fabric of your tee. Your own hands cling to his shoulders, keeping yourself balanced so you don’t fall off the bar stool.

Eddie bites your lip, tugging it lightly when he pulls away. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to kiss you. How long I’ve wanted to have my hands on you, to feel you.” He says, breathless.

He kisses down your neck, sending a shiver down your spine and a tingle wherever his lips meet your skin.

“Eddie-” You moan.

“Hum?”

“I want you to do more than kiss me.”

That stops him in his tracks. He pulls away for a second time and you can’t help the whimper it brings out of you.

“You’re sure?”

As much as you were grateful for his concern, it was really getting in the way of you trying to have him fuck the daylights out of you.

“Yes, I’m sure.” You pull him in for a deep kiss before whispering against his lips, “So, are you going to fuck me or am I going to have to take matters into my own hands?”

The smirk he gives you is cocky. “C’mere, Sweetheart.” He grabs at you, pulls you from the stool, and moves you to the island countertop. He wastes no time in ridding you of your shirt and bra.

His tongue licks a long, wet line from the side of your neck down to the elastic waistband of your shorts.

Slowly but surely, he begins to pull the fabric down Your legs. He stops in surprise when He sees you aren't wearing anything underneath.

A deep chuckle vibrates in his chest. “Did you know this would happen, Sweetheart?” He left an open-mouthed kiss on the inside of your thigh. “Hum? Plan to seduce me with those short fucking shorts only to not have any panties on?”

Shaking your head you mumble out “No.”

“It sure does look like it, princess.” Eddie teases you with his fingers, using them to spread you open gently. His eyes glaze over with lust. “Fuck, baby… so pretty and wet for me.”

The sudden rush of arousal washes over you, leaving your skin flushed and your cunt fluttering around nothing.

He leaves wet kisses all over the sensitive skin, moving from your apex to your thigh, right where the artery was. Taking the plush meat there into his mouth, he sucked, soothing his tongue over where his teeth bit down gently. There was no doubt a mark would be there when he pulled away.

You watch him, elbows planted on the counter to prop yourself up. Just looking at him makes your heart beat faster.

“Eddie,” you moan as you widen your legs.

He hums against you as he sucks his way back to your center. With lidded eyes, he looks up at you just as his mouth attaches to your clit.

Choking out a gasp, you let your head fall back between your shoulders.

Eddie’s hands wrap around the back of your legs, gripping them firmly and guiding them over his shoulders. The noises coming from where he was connected to you had butterflies fluttering in your stomach. He'd only just started but it felt like with every even suck and precise lick of his tongue, You were melting into a puddle around him.

Soon your arms became weak and you had to lay flat. Your hands had a mind of their own as your body writhes under Eddie's expert mouth. His hair quickly fell from the loose knot that kept it out of his face when you ran your hands through it.

You could tell Eddie liked it too much, hips bucking into nothing When you tugged on the salt and pepper strands. His moans sent vibrations through you.

“Eddie, fuck, Eddie- you feel so good,” you can't help but babble when you feel two thick fingers begin to penetrate your entrance.

There's an audible pop when he releases you from his mouth. “Yeah? Imagine how good my cock's gonna feel, Sweetheart.” He removes your legs from his shoulders as he begins to stand.

Tilting your head, you gaze at him. Following down his nose, over his wet lips, down along the tattoo of a sneak that started at his shoulder and curled down his bicep. With him closer now, you could see more of those tattoos littering his skin and the trail of hair that led from his navel down.

You clench around his fingers at the thought of whatever was hiding behind those basketball shorts. You wanted it, needed it, inside of you.

Eddie's fingers massaged into you, the calloused pads pushing into your soft insides. “Right there!” You pant when he pushes into a particularly sensitive spot. “Right there! Don't stop!”

He doesn't, he keeps a strong steady pace with his fingers hitting the mark every single time. It had your toes curling and your head swirling with pleasure.

Unknowingly, you clamped your hand over your mouth as you began to moan.

Eddie pushes your hand away. “Don't cover those pretty moans, wanna hear how good I make you feel.”

Nodding, you keep your hands away. Occupying one by gripping your breast and the other, slipping it down to massage over your clit.

The added stimulation makes your legs snap shut and your body goes ridged. You were hurled over the edge so fast that your vision was almost white.

Eddie kept his fingers pumping into you despite the added obstacle. You could hear the wet sound growing louder as your body shook with release and your lungs cried out.

“That's it, princess, give it all to me.”

“Eddie-” you cry out to him. “Feels- ah fuck, I feel so good.”

He hums in approval.

“You make me feel so good.”

Eddie pulls his fingers from your dripping cunt and licks them clean. “God, you're delicious. Put that ice cream to shame.”

He pulls you by your hips down the counter, closer to him, and places a firm kiss on your lips. You'd never liked the taste of yourself before but that salty tangy mixed with the sweetness of Eddie's tongue had you melting and wanting for more.

You want to feel him inside of you. No, it's not a want, it's a need. A need so strong you think you might cry if you don't have I'm in the next five seconds.

Pulling away, you give Eddie a look. One so filled with lust and longing, you know he won't be able to resist.

“What is it, princess?” He asks, moving back in to kiss marks on your neck.

Your fingers tug on his hair and you sigh. “I need-”

“What do you need?”

“I need you to fuck me.” The buck of your hips punctuated every word.

“S'that right, Sweetheart? Need me to use this pretty cunt?”

You groaned, nodding excitedly when he started backing up. As he did so, he knocked over what was left of the ice cream. It was melted now and its contents flowed onto the counter.

Eddie smirked as he took the carton and instead of sitting it back up, he poured it onto your skin. The splashes of the now liquid dessert were cold on your hot skin. He gives you a salacious wink before lapping up what he had tipped onto you.

“Eddie!” You gasp, surprised by his actions.

He paced you no mind, cleaning the stickiness from your skin, and pulled back. Acting as though nothing had happened, he began tugging at the drawstring of his shorts.

The outline of his cock was impressive, you had always imagined it would be the biggest you'd ever had. And as his shorts and boxers fell from his hips down his toned legs, you were proven right.

Saliva pooled in your mouth at the sick of him. Long and thick and stood at attention. Your eyes flicked from the flushed tip of his cock to his eyes and then back down again a few times before he chucked. Asking “See something you like?”

“Yeah…” you were breathless just looking at it.

Anticipation begins to build, your heart beating faster as he lined himself up. Your legs spread wider, letting Eddie nestle in. He gives the sensitive skin a tap with his cock before sliding it through your slick folds.

“Ready, baby?”

“Yes, please.”

As he enters, there's a slight pain. He's thicker than anything you've ever taken and the new stretch has you burning. He isn't even halfway inside before you start shaking and mewling in ecstasy.

Eddie's fingers have your hips in an iron grip. He looks out a long moan once he bottoms out. There is the sensation of being filled to your absolute max.

Your walls are contracting around him, trying To pull him in deeper.

“Fuck. That's it, baby, taking me so well. So proud of you.”

You keen into his praise. Hips bucking and back arching.

“Need more,” you plead and he obliges, rocking his hips into you, starting slow before going into an almost inhuman speed. pleasure is all that you feel, all that you know in this moment.

With every thrust, you saw Eddie lose just a little more self-control until he was feral, pounding into you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Feel so fucking good baby. Yeah, that's right, this pussy was made for me, wasn't it? God dammit.” He'd lost his filter, saying anything and everything that came to his mind.

You were loving it. No man had ever been so vocal with you before and it was such a turn-on to hear every grunt, moan, and whimper.

There's a flutter in your stomach that you know all too well. You're balancing on the edge and are so close to toppling over.

“Eddie. Eddie. Eddie!” You've run out of words, all you can manage to say is his name. It's like a prayer on your lips.

“I know, Sweetheart.” He tuts, voice out of breath. “Can feel you squeezing me. God, you’re so fucking tight.” His fingers grip your hips harder. “Need you to cum for my baby, can you do that?”

You nod frantically. “Yes, yes, yes,” you say as his thrusts continue, finally giving you that last little nudge you need to fall.

With eyes rolling back in your head and a ringing in your ears, you cum. Harder than you ever had before. You're so lost in the feeling that you can't hear yourself screaming rapture. Every feeling is intense like hitting a raw nerve but it's so enjoyable.

Eddie's thrusts slow to a stop before he reluctantly pulls from your warmth and tugs himself to completion. You can feel the warm ropes quickly cooling on your stomach and breasts when you finally come back to reality.

“God dammit.” Eddie rasps.

You can't help but laugh, “My thoughts exactly.”

Fixing your eyes on your stomach. You take a finger and collect Eddie's cum onto it. He watches you with wide eyes as you bring the finger to your mouth. It's not your favorite taste but you moan nonetheless.

“Thanks for the sweet treat, Mr. Munson.” Your face heats up over what you've said.

Eddie chuckles and shakes his head at you before giving you a fond look. Even though you were spread out on his kitchen counter covered in drying cum, you'd never felt more comfortable. You can see when Eddie hesitates ever-so-slightly before he asks, “Can I kiss you?”

It was sweet, you thought. You nod giving him the go-ahead.

He pulls you up by the hand you give him and his mouth is on you in a tender kiss. Much too tender for what you had both finished doing.

His hands massage into the sides of your face and neck and your own slide into his hair, tugging the fallen strands at the nape of his neck.

When he pulls away, you follow him hot wanting his lips to leave yours. He gives you a quick peck before stepping back.

You pout but he soothes you. “I'll be back. Gonna get a cloth to clean you up.”

It only takes him a moment to return to you, warm rag in hand. It feels nice to have all the sweat and other fluids wiped from your skin, it feels even nicer with Eddie the one doing it.

A yawn escapes you when he’s finally done and helps you off the counter.

“Tired?” He asks.

“Yea-” You were cut off by another big yawn, it brings involuntary tears to your eyes. Rubbing your eyes, you sigh, “I guess I better get home.” Bending down, you reach for your clothes that had made a home on the floor.

“Or,” Eddie stops you, “You could stay here.”

The statement was more of a question with his hopeful look and light tone.

You can’t help the blush that makes its way onto your cheeks. “I think I’d like that.”

“Good. Now leave those there, I have something more comfortable you can wear.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #female reader #older eddie munson

1K notes · View notes

admirationandromantics · 5 months ago

Text

Keeping Warm

Another request, thank you so much. Again, reminding people that these usually take some time!! I loved the concept of this one, and believe me when I say that I love to write smut (blog is 18+ minors get away). It's not exactly like the request, but I still hope you like it.

And Merry Christmas and happy holidays! Not gonna be active today, so please enjoy this one and send requests if you want me to take a look at them later. Have a nice day everyone <3

Basically, reader comes to the lodge with Josh a day earlier to set everything up, and they have to get the guest cabin ready. Snow storm, they're snowed in and have to keep warm (you can imagine where this goes).

Word count: 3,3k (Unedited)

i absolutely adore your work, especially the drugged chocolate ones was such a trip!! i was hoping if you could write about josh and reader being stuck in a snow storm. being stuck somewhere, a car or a small cabin (whatever works for you!) and having to have sex for warmth. i know this request is kind of silly but i could totally imagine josh asking this just to be funny and being shocked that reader agrees to do it.😭 (@dissolvedprincess)

“Should we go and set up the guest cabin for Emily and Mike?” I ask, fluffing the last pillow on the sofa.

“Are we done here?” Josh comes into the room, looking around for any imperfections. Everything is cleaned, changed and heated up. I take it all in, the coziness of the lodge is like no other. It is perfect.

“Yes we are, don’t you think?”

He comes up behind me, seeing everything from my perspective.

“Yeah, looks great, guest cabin next”

We take our jackets, not bothering with extra sweaters and outerwear. We aren’t going to be long, just change the sheets, check if there’s firewood and do a quick cleanup.

Everyone is arriving at the lodge tomorrow night, and I volunteered to come with Josh to prepare for it. The weekend was going to be awesome. Drinking, dancing and talking. I do have an ulterior motive to the kindness I’m paying him. Usually he does these things himself, but by coming with him, we could get some alone time. Not that it would lead to anything, either way, I enjoy his company.

We go outside, the snow-filled wind immediately hitting us. I knew it was brewing up for a storm, but I didn’t expect it to come so early. I look over at him, and he has his hand in the air, reaching out for me. I grab it, holding firm so I don’t lose him. We can barely see, barely open our eyes to follow the path before us.

He leads me down, an occasional swing to the side and a little hill here and there. We walk up a couple of stairs when we suddenly hear a loud wolf’s howl. Fucking hell, was this mountain trying to kill us? Luckily, he’s basically grown up here, and knows by heart the way. I finally glimpse the little cabin in the distance, dark and empty. I collect my last strength, one hand still in his and the other in my pocket to keep its warmth. There’s a bunch of snow in front of the door, but he kicks a little away, as if that’s going to help. Hands go in his pocket, finding the keys. He fumbles with them, finally finding the right one and unlocking the door. He struggles to open it, the snow going too high. I try to help him, using my hands to mow as much of the white coldness away that I can. It finally opens, just enough that one of us can press through at a time. I go first, letting him hold the door open. He quickly follows, squeezing his body through the tight space.

As the door closes, a blissful silence falls over us. The only sound being the wind howling outside, slamming against the wood walls. I look around the cabin. It’s dark and cold, probably dusty as well.

“Fuck, what a weather” he exclaims relieved, taking a deep breath and going straight for the bedroom. I follow suit, helping him find new sheets, organising, cleaning stuff away, and sweeping the floor. We share one lamp, moving from room to room as we do the tasks.

“You know, it was great having someone up here with me this year”

“Don’t worry about it, give me a treat and I’ll come next year as well”

“You’re that easy?”

“In this area, yes”

He laughs at my response, and I sit down on the couch, finally being able to relax a bit. He sits down beside me, legs touching as he makes himself comfortable. I look over, noticing that his gaze is already on me. Eyes move up and down, taking in every inch of me as I’m laid out on the couch.

“Staring a bit much are we, Washington?”

“Can’t help myself”

“I mean, if I was wearing a bikini and sitting in a hot tub, I’d be flattered. But you’re literally looking at wool and a massive jacket”

“Hey, I know what I’m into, you don’t”

I smile, the playfulness of it all getting to me.

“I don’t know what you’re into or what I’m into?”

“The first one you know”

“That you’re into wool and big jackets”

“Like thinking about what’s underneath”

“Good play Josh”

I laugh, standing up and taking a last lap around the cabin. The bedroom’s good, the kitchen’s good and the living room’s great.

“I think we’re good to go back”

He stands up as well, grabbing his knees and grunting like an old man. He takes a quick look around, being satisfied with the result.

“You’re right, it’s starting to get cold”

We go to the door, and he tries pushing it open. It doesn’t budge. He tries again, putting more force into it than last time. It still doesn’t open. He keeps trying, and I move over to the window to look outside. We’ve been in too long, and the snow is now reaching up to our waists, the storm still going strong.

“Josh, I don’t think we’ll be able to get out”

He moves to my side, seeing the snow balling on.

“Windows” He comments, eyes widening in realisation, glad for the solution he conjured. We try to open it, but to no avail. We try the other one as well, but they’re both frozen shut.

“Shit, shit, shit”

“Do you have your phone?”

I reach in my pockets, making myself aware that I left it back at the lodge. He hums, trying to think.

“Okay, I think I’ll pass sometime during the night, right?”

“I believe so” I try to stay hopeful, even with our clothes, the cabin was freezing.

“Hey Josh, how about we start a fire?”

He answers by moving over to the fireplace, sitting down and giving a loud sigh. What was the problem now?

“Out of firewood”

“You’re joking”

“I wish I was”

I whine out loud. What the hell were we gonna do? The only way out is blocked. Even if we manage to remove some of the snow, the storm would replace it easily, leading to us being exhausted and frozen.

He walks over, hands going to either side of me and holding tight. I look up, finding his eyes oddly comforting, though being anxious himself. I take a deep breath, meeting his gaze before leaning on him, burying my head in the crook of his neck. I wasn’t going to be so shameless to sniff him, but my body listens before I think. Like warmth and fire, how ironic.

“Listen, this is going to be great”

I move away, rolling my eyes and giving him a ‘oh, really’-sarcastic look. He smiles, hands gripping even harder and moving up and down, warming me up.

“It is! Look, we’ve been cleaning and preparing all day, now we’ll relax, talk and just enjoy the night”

“Josh, it’s freezing”

“We have each other. At least I didn’t send you here on your own” He laughs, a playful glint in his eyes.

“Would you?”

“Nah, I wouldn’t”

I sit down on the couch, and he goes into the bedroom to get the covers and some more blankets. We get cozy, sitting beside each other in front of the cold fireplace and telling stories. We talk about Chris and Ashley, as well as Mike and Emily.

“You have noticed the tension between Jess, Emily and your sister, right?”

“Who hasn't?”

We go into detail about our lives, and just now, I realise how little I actually know about him. I haven’t gone beyond surface level, which is partly his fault because of the fake persona he always displays, but still…

“Wait, you had a thing for me?”

My eyes widen at the realisation, a book which I could never imagine was opened. He once liked me. He thought about me, and felt a certain way.

“Well, had and had… But, you know”

“Yeah, would be a bit weird for the others, don’t you think?”

“Not as weird as Mike’s triangle-drama” he states, laughing at the man.

“Isn’t it technically a quadruple-drama?”

“Wouldn’t that be a foursome?” I think for a minute, intrigued by the affairs. I could be, I bet Mike would love it, but I don’t think that’s the right term.

“No, that’s just sexual, this is just drama”

“Speaking of sex and sexual appeal…” Josh starts, and I can help but snort. How the conversation has turned. I never imagined myself talking about this, with him, here.

“Was all this a plot just to make me tell you this?”

“Maybe” he answers, a playful smirk on his lips. He loves the direction this is going, he’s intrigued, interested. Of course he is. It’s freaking Josh Washington.

“Okay then, let me tell you. If we had a fire here, I might do it right here”

“Really?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time”

His eyes widens in surprise, brows furrowing in confusion. Oh, it sounds like I’ve done it ‘here’ before, which is absolutely not what I meant

“You mean that time you and Sam shared this cabin…”

“No, no! Sorry, I worded that wrong. I just meant to say that fire in itself is a bit of a vibe, mood lighting and all”

“Ohhh, yeah”

“Not that I’ve done it here, I’ve never had sex on a mountain before”

“You don’t say” his tone is different, something darkly curious in it. I smile at him, aware that I’ve shared a bunch and he hasn’t shared anything.

“I do, have you?”

He pauses, looking at the imaginary fire we’ve constructed, keeping us warm. None of us are, which is why we’re automatically sliding closer and closer. We can’t help it, it’s just instinct at this point.

“No I have not”

“I’m surprised”

“What, why?”

“Well, bring a girl up to a mountain, your secluded beautiful bachelor pad. Who knows what might happen”

“Are you saying we should…”

“You wish Washington”

He puts his hands up in defeat, grinning at my smiling face. I’ve never connected with him this way before. There’s something different about it, as if everything happening is supposed to. We’re supposed to be trapped here, in the ice cold cabin, fighting for warmth together.

“Maybe I do”

I laugh, thinking back on all the things I’ve imagined before. I know I have a dirty mind, but when my thoughts are filled with this man, I can’t help myself. I lean my head against his chest, pulling all the layers over us as I close my eyes.

“Let me know when the storm is over”

“You know you should never sleep in situations like these”

“You’re here, I’ll be okay”

***

I wake up shivering. The wind is still howling outside, and the room is icy. Josh has his eyes closed, probably sleeping.

“Psst, Josh” I whisper, my body vibrating as I speak. He opens his eyes, body suddenly aware of the cold air surrounding him.

“Shit, it’s cold”

“Should we try to get back to the lodge?” I propose, breathing coming in quick and fast. This was not good. We’re literally going to get hypothermia if we keep like this. He stands up, arms around himself as he looks out the window.

“It has calmed a bit, but seeing our condition, we’ll not be able to get all the snow away”

“Fuck” I shutter, pressing the covers harder on me as if it’s going to work. He sits down beside me again, starting to remove his clothing. My mouth opens as he keeps going.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Body heat, take your clothes off”

“You know the first factor that you have hypothermia is that you want to remove your clothing?” I add, the idea being odd. I know it’s a legit thing, but at this point, the covers seem like the best options.

“So, I guess you are not reason enough?”

“If I wasn’t freezing to death, I would laugh at that”

He finally reveals himself, taking the last shirt off before moving to his pants. I shake my head, what am I going to do?

“What are you waiting for, I’m going to freeze to death alone and you have to wait here for backup with my dead corpse”

I oblige, starting to take off my clothes. The jacket, the sweater, the shirt…

“How much am I taking off?”

“As much as possible”

“Josh, is it really necessary t-”

“Oh, fuck it” he exclaims, taking hold of my pants and dragging them off, leaving me only in my underwear. He’s quick to lay down, pulling me on top of him and the covers over us. I almost faint from the warmth. His chest is hot, heart beating rapidly as his cold hands run over my naked back. Our legs tangled together, his crotch by mine as I try not to think about our position. I do my best to adjust my breathing, calming myself and forcing my brain to stop the conjuring of dirty images. The silence is deafening, and I ask the only appropriate question that comes to mind.

“Why shouldn’t you sleep in situations like these?”

“What?”

“I know we shouldn’t, but why?”

His hand keeps drawing circles on my back, occasionally touching the hem of my bra.

“Because our body temperature lowers when we sleep, we don’t use as much energy, like an energy-saver”

“Oh, yeah, makes sense. You keep active and work out so your body gets hotter. It’s such a simple concept, I just didn’t really think about it” I exclaim, a bit embarrassed it didn’t click faster.

“Yeah… You know, there’s other ways to keep warm too” he continues in a whisper, and I move my head, holding myself up as I look down on him. Our faces inch closer, hot breaths colliding.

“Like…” his hand moves under the hem of my panties, tugging at the fabric. I feel him getting harder under me, poking at my dripping heat.

“Like-” I interrupt him with my lips, crashing into him. He answers quickly, opening his mouth and grabbing my ass. He squeezes, causing me to moan into him. My arms fly up, one beside his head and one feeling down his toned stomach. I take him in, his warmth, tracing every curve and muscle.

I start grinding on him, elevating his hardness and making him groan into me. He grabs my thighs, pushing me closer and moving underneath. My body is on fire, kisses getting sloppier and wetter. One of his hands moves to my heat, letting me grind down on his fingers.

“So this is how you’ve felt about me all this time” he coos, stroking the wet fabric. I force myself not to make sounds so early, after all, he gets me all worked up so quickly. How am I going to keep it up?

“I can say the same about you” I state as my hand goes down to cup his bulge. He grabs my thigh harder, a weak attempt at controlling himself. My hand goes to trace the hem of his boxers, teasing him with the movements. He jolts into me, making me yelp and lose my balance, falling over him once again. He grabs the back of my neck pushing my lips down on his. His teeth clasp around my lower lip, definitely colouring it red.

His hands move up to my back, fiddling with the clasp of my bra. It takes a couple of tries, and I try to hide my smile.

“Need help?”

“It’s the position we’re in”

“What, me on top of you?”

“More the freezing cabin-bit, but maybe you’ve got a point”

He manages to unhook it, dragging it off my arms and throwing it in the clothing pile. I’m about to kiss him again, when he takes hold of my body, one hand on my back and one on my thigh, and rolls us around, making him lay on top. The action leaves me in surprise, it was unexpected, but so is he. I should always be on my toes around him.

He captures my lips again, mouth moving to my jaw and down my neck. I can’t help the sounds I make, each one a result of his tender touches. He’s warm and cozy, knowing exactly how to make me melt underneath. His mouth travels down my stomach, leaving kisses and bites all over. I whine at the pain, but he quickly licks and kisses the areas better again. Hands are kneading my breast and thighs, coming slowly up to my wet heat. I grab hold of him, not wanting him to go further down.

“No, please, stay up here with me”

It’s cold without his chest against mine, it feels empty and alone. He smiles at my request, pushing himself up again and letting me feel his lips.

“I’m not saying I don’t want to, but-”

“I know, we’ll keep each other warm”

He speaks in a tone I’ve never heard before, making butterflies flap around in my stomach. It’s loving and caring. A deep voice which makes my toes curl. I’ve never felt as safe before. He takes hold of my underwear, dragging it down my legs. I help him, kicking it off my feet. He does the same with his, leaving both of us pressed together, in an ice-cold cabin, with a bunch of blankets, naked. I feel him stroke my folds, his hardness pressed against me. I yearn for him, waiting for him to take the first move.

He does. Chests pressed up against each other, he lowers himself, slowly filling me up. Head is in the crook of my neck, breathing heavily as he keeps going. Shit, he’s big, not even feeling his thighs yet and still pressing in.

“You’re doing so good for me” he whispers, breathing unevenly and struggling to form the words. Knowing that he’s also feeling this way makes it better. I take hold of his torso, quickly pushing myself completely down on him. We both moan in response, and he doesn’t waste time, starting to move immediately. The cabin fills up with the sound and smell of sex, whimpers and moans in symphony, no one close enough to hear. We’re here, alone and together.

His pelvis rubs against mine, giving me that extra bit of friction to my core. It starts building up, the warmth, the withholding pleasure wishing to cave. His arm takes hold of my leg, lifting it up, letting him dig himself even deeper. My back arches as he does, reaching my cervix, pain and pleasure shooting through me at the same time.

“Fuck, Josh I’m gonna come”

“Mhm, yeah me too”

He pumps in and out, almost leaving me before slamming into me again. His hand grabs my side harshly, leaving marks which’ll stay for days. My arms go around him, pressing him harder against me, elevating the friction and rubbing. I can’t help it, my nails digging into his back, scraping and crying for release. His lips capture mine in a passionate kiss, and I finally come, clenching around him. Feeling my whole body twitch with pent up energy and ecstasy. He rides me through it, pumping until he digs himself deep, coating my walls in white release.

The room is filled with deep breaths, bodies tight as his arms go around me, head moving up to kiss my cheek. I stroke his back hand hair, not getting enough of him. I just had sex with Josh Washington, but… was it just to keep warm? My own insecurities get the better of me, and as if on cue, he meets my eyes with his, looking for something.

“You okay?”

“I mean, I’m warm”

“That’s not what I mean”

I sigh, the high slowly falling, making my body limb and tired.

“What happens now?”

He smiles, leaning down and kissing me again, this time, more romantic, more real.

“I guess we lay here until the sun comes up. Then we get to the lodge, and maybe we can do this again”

“Again?”

“You know, really do it again”

“Fucking hell Washington, that’s not what I mean”

“I know what you mean, and you should probably stick to calling me Josh”

#until dawn #joshua washington #josh washington #josh washington x reader #josh washington x reader smut #until dawn josh #josh until dawn #josh washington smut #josh washington imagines #josh washington until dawn #joshua washington x fem reader #joshua washington smut #joshua washington x reader #joshua washington x reader smut #until dawn smut

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slasher-fxcker · 9 months ago

Note

I’m a sucker for hurt/comfort fics, can I get Bo and Thomas being held hostage by a victim please? God I love the way you write Bo ^.^

A/N: Yesssss, I too love this! Hope you enjoy!!

Bo & Thomas having their S/O taken hostage by a victim.

Warnings: Guns, Violence, Swearing. 18+ blog MDNI.

Bo Sinclair

If you asked, Bo would say he isn’t afraid of anything. He always saw himself as fearless, he had seen so much in his life that he didn’t think anything could shake him.

That was until he heard your scream, one of the victims had gotten away from them and they had been searching, shotgun in hand, for at least an hour. When he heard your scream it killed him, you were his life now. Maybe he hadn’t quite realised it but in that moment the thought of you being hurt by the victim, or worse, pained him in a way he’d never felt before.

He raced to the house as fast as he could, he had to grab the wall as he skidded through the door and up the stairs to your room.

His whole body shook in fear as he noticed the handle on your door had been broken and that you were nowhere to be seen. “Fuck!” he yelled running back down the stairs to Vincent, “He took her, that bastards gonna get what’s coming to him,” he sent Vincent back out to look for you while he went to the kitchen to get his keys but what he saw made him still instantly.

Bo called your name quietly as the man pressed the knife closer to your throat making you flinch. “Put the gun down or I’ll do it, I’ll slit her throat.” Bo felt the familiar rage boiling up inside him at this point, how dare he talk about you like that, how dare he threaten to hurt you.

Bo surprisingly kept his cool, raising both hands and placing the shot gun on the table between you before taking a step back. “There, now let her go. Take my truck just let her go.” You had never seen Bo like this before, the pleading in his eyes as they flickered between you and the man. The man started moving forward towards the door still holding you close to him, Bo didn’t take his eyes off of him as he moved towards the exit. Bo was going to kill him, you knew that, he was going to rip him apart for even threatening you. As the man got to the door he looked at the door and then you, “Hey! I said let her go.” Bo seemed to spook the man who pushed you towards him and made a run for it. Vincent must have heard the ruckus and caught the man just as he reached the front door.

Bo wrapped his arms around you holding you close to him, his hand was brushing your hair out of your face as he whispered to you, “You're okay, you're safe now.” He repeated over and over as he just held you, you weren’t sure if he was convincing you or himself.

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas wiped the remaining blood on a rag before wrapping his arm around your waist, pulling you against him and nuzzling into your neck. Giggling you gave him a playful shove, “Lunch will never be ready if you keep it up.” He just huffs, placing a kiss to your neck before getting himself a drink. The poor man didn’t even get a chance to sit down before Hoyt was yelling demands at him again. “I’m going to check out the roads again. Get outside and finish setting the traps up out the back.” Thomas placed his cup down with a sigh, gently caressing the side of your face before making his way outside.

It wasn’t long before you heard some noises coming from behind the basement door, you were used to it at this point and as much as it bothered you, you knew you had to ignore it. You didn’t get to think twice about it before a man came bursting from behind the door. You froze, looking towards the knife on the table you leapt towards it, unfortunately the man seemed to have noticed your gaze and reached the knife before you did. “Scream and you die.”

He steps towards you and you pull away as he tries to grab you. The scuffle gained the attention of Monty who soon rolled into the kitchen, seeing you being manhandled he began yelling for Thomas. The man grabbed you by the hair and dragged you out the front towards the cars. You didn’t know how far Thomas had wandered away from the house, would he have heard Monty? Would he reach you in time?

It wasn’t long before you heard the roar of the chainsaw you tried to turn to look for Thomas but the man’s hold on you is too tight. You hear the chainsaw getting louder but you're getting too close to the cars now. You have no weapon and the grip the man has on you is unbreakable. Panic starts to set in, you're frantically searching for anything to get you away from him. You notice the man has a slight limp, readying yourself you use all your strength and kick him in the side of the knee as hard as you can, he buckles and let’s go of you in the process.

You turn and run towards Thomas as fast as you can, he slows down as he reaches you quickly looking you over to make sure you're safe before running after the soon to be dead man. He doesn’t hesitate before impaling him with the chainsaw. Dropping it immediately when he’s finished with the man.

When Thomas reaches you, you can see the pain in his eyes. He drops to his knees in front of you, face lowered and avoiding eye contact. You know Thomas always blames himself, for you being stranded here, for the life you’ve been forced to lead, for you being hurt. You kneel down and cup his cheek coaxing him to look at you. “I’m okay Tommy, were okay.” You continue reassuring him, as the words seem to sink in he gently pulls you into his lap his arms wrapping around you. You don’t know how long you stay there before Thomas sends you inside while he cleans up the mess. Expect that Thomas will be very needy and protective over the next few weeks, he needs to know you're there and you're okay. Thomas doesn’t know what he would do without you in his life and he never wants to find out.

#slasher fandom #slasher movies #fanfic #slasher #fan fic writing #reading #slasher fanfiction #house of wax #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt #leatherface #the texas chainsaw massacre #sinclair brothers

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spidermanifested · 2 months ago

Text

okay ive got to get this post out before april fools day so everyone knows this is important and serious information. i believe ive solved a mystery that i might have been the only person on earth who ever cared about and im taking you with me on this journey

For the uninitiated (aka people who have never looked at my blog in their whole life). there is this character called bido from fullmetal alchemist. hes greeds friend and goon and he shows up in like 5 chapters. he looks like this

and if youve never seen him before you are going to be baffled to find out that a large percentage of people who even bother remembering him seem to genuinely believe that he is a young child. and this goes beyond your regular fandom infantilization. i have had people comment on my very own posts, telling me "but wait, i thought bido was a kid".

for years i did not know how this misconception was even possible (look at him), let alone get so widespread, but that might be because the chiefest example of it exists... in the scanlation thats up on most "read free manga" websites. Aka; the one most people these days are reading. perhaps this is the mother of all other bido-child-takes. we may not ever know.

but either way, that scanlation team apparently decided at some point in their workflow, that not ONLY was bido a kid, but it made sense to have an ACTUAL kid* (*15-year-old) call him one. which at that point just feels like rubbing salt in the wound like come on

anyway the first time i checked the original dialogue to compare, i didnt know much japanese, but i was still pretty confident there was zero basis for the mistranslation. this scenes official translation makes no reference to bidos age, and aside from the obvious factor of "are you fucking serious just look at him", there was an ACTUAL reference to his age in the japanese dialogue of an earlier chapter; alphonse calls him "ojisan". which... surely the scanlation team would have seen. if they were translating the manga. but i guess it would be easy to forget a chapter you read that long ago if you arent similarly enamored of every detail regarding one of the least present background characters

Still. it seems like such a weird and out of nowhere choice to make and there didnt seem to be any reason for it. even replacing dialogue with lord of the rings quotes has a clear and almost understandable motivation (hubristically riding the coattails of sam and frodos legendary romance). so WHY did they just suddenly up and decide this bald middle aged man was some kind of precocious Crime Baby.

well in the past couple years i have learned a little bit more japanese. & since last night i think i have found the answer.

heres the original dialogue again, and then here it is simplified for one of the official video games.

"ビドーとやらが言ってた事も", aka, "and the stuff we heard bido say".

"言ってた事も", pronounced "いってたことも", aka "itteta koto mo".

Except. if you arent reading too closely, or your image quality sucks, and you mistake the と (to) for a ど (do).

言ってたこども*..............

*translators note: koto mo means "and stuff". kodomo means child.

i cannot stress this enough. the kanji for "koto" is right there on the page. this mistake would only happen if somebody was ONLY looking at the furigana and not even doing a good job of that. how did they get it this wrong. how did nobody second guess it. i know that scanlators are mostly a bunch of hobbyists trying their best and i do not mean to disparage them as a collective. its just , that i think these specific ones should maybe be pelted with an assortment of overripe fruits for a little while, for giving me this hyperspecific grievance to suffer.

At least maybe now that ive solved the riddle the truth will prevail in time. tell your friends, or something

#fullmetal alchemist (fullmetal alchemist)#bido #fma #fmab #manifesting spiders

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justchillgurl · 21 days ago

Text

Chapter 2: Smoking Mirrors.

Summary: Geum Seong-je isn’t one to care about school politics, but something about her—the girl with the chessboard smile and debt-tracked hands—gets under his skin. From hallway glimpses to quiet observation, he begins to unthread her method. Not to expose her. Just to see if she ever slips.

He doesn’t think she will. That’s what makes it interesting.

Warnings: none (not yet at least.) just seongje smoking.

Author's note: I'm not really confident about those chapters, feel free to give your feedback. English is not my first language, please don't hesitate to point out any mistakes. Thank you🫶🏼

Check this out!@

The lighter clicked once. Twice. Flame hissed, flickered, and died against the afternoon wind.

Seong-je exhaled through his teeth, dug the lighter deeper into his palm, and tried again. On the third attempt, it caught. The tip of the cigarette burned soft orange as he leaned back against the cracked brick wall outside the east stairwell, smoke curling lazily around his face.

He wasn’t supposed to be out here. Not technically.

But that was the whole point.

Classes were still in session. The school felt hollow in this part of the building—too far from the teachers’ offices, too quiet for anyone to bother checking. A graveyard for rusted lockers and long-forgotten announcements. Seong-je liked it here. It was predictable in its neglect.

His phone buzzed.

Seong-Mok: u gonna show up today or what?

He locked the screen without answering.

Seong-je didn’t skip class because he had better things to do. He skipped because nothing in that building made him feel awake. He’d already figured out which teachers didn’t bother calling names, which students kept their heads down, and which staff gave up trying to correct him.

He existed at the edge of Kanghak High’s awareness. Not low enough to worry about. Not loud enough to deal with.

Except now there was her.

He’d been watching her longer than he liked to admit.

It started in the convenience store. The way she measured every action, every word, like she was scoring a game only she understood. She didn’t seek attention, but it followed her anyway—hovering around her sharp shoulders and immovable stare.

He didn’t care about rumors, but even he’d heard things.

She was the one with the notes. The blog. The connections. She never raised her voice. Never smiled for no reason. And never helped without a trade.

A few days after their non-meeting, he saw her again.

She was sitting in the back corner of the library, laptop open, typing fast and without pause. Her phone buzzed three times—she ignored it. Her bag sat on the floor, half unzipped, with a folder of printed sheets sticking out like pressed wings.

He didn’t move. Didn’t interrupt.

He just watched.

The next day, she was walking across the courtyard, head tilted as someone tried desperately to gain her approval. Seong-je could tell. The body language was all there—hands fidgeting, voice too eager, laugh a little too loud. She listened with that same neutral expression, nodding only once before slipping a folded note into the person’s hand.

Transaction complete.

He lit another cigarette.

He didn’t want to interact. Not yet. That wasn’t how you watched people like her. You didn’t start by talking. You started by observing—finding the cracks. The inconsistencies. The rules she followed and when she bent them.

He already knew some of them.

She refused requests that weren’t worth her time. She wore earbuds in crowded spaces—not because she liked music, but because it gave her an excuse not to engage.

She smiled differently depending on who was talking.

To teachers: soft, respectful.

To classmates: polite, measured.

To those beneath her ranking system: almost invisible.

There was a system. He was sure of it.

And it intrigued the hell out of him.

One afternoon, he caught a sliver of her voice near the back staircase. Someone was begging—literally—for help on a scholarship essay. She didn’t yell. She didn’t even sound annoyed.

“Do you really think my notes are free?” she said calmly.

“No, no—I’ll pay. I’ll do anything, I swear.”

“I don’t want desperation. I want results. I want return.”

There was a long pause. Then:

“Make me a deal that makes sense. Otherwise, don’t waste my time.”

She walked off. Her steps echoed sharp and fast.

She didn’t glance at Seong-je as she passed.

But he noticed her thumb flick across her phone screen the moment she turned the corner. Probably logging the encounter. Updating a name. Moving pieces.

He tossed the cigarette butt into a gutter and kicked the edge of a bench.

The weird thing was, he didn’t want anything from her. Not really. He wasn’t looking for help, or notes, or connections. He wasn’t even looking for a fight.

He just wanted to know if she ever messed up.

If the game she was playing was as perfect as she made it look.

Because people like her didn’t run without cracks. No matter how polished. No matter how precise.

And Geum Seong-je had time. He had silence. And he had an unsettling talent for noticing what others ignored.

He could wait.

This is gonna be fucking fun.

So I decided to drop the chapter tonight, felt like it.

Hope you enjoy reading it🫂.

#wolf keum #lee jun young #geum seong je x reader #weak hero x reader #keum seongje #geum seong je #weak hero class x reader #weak hero webtoon #weak hero kdrama

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