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hopelesswritergall · 6 months

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“Take a hat, give a ride.”

CW: p in v unprotected, riding crop, a lot of degradation, a bit dumbificiation, oral sex both ends, fingering, name calling. Afab reader lmk if I missed stuff!

Taglist: @lovelykhaleesiii (I’m becoming an Aegon girly more every day, your fics are a big reason) @daenerysapologist @aemondtarqaryens @howyouloveyourdragon @simp-aholic lmk if you want to be added!! @queen--kenobi

Aegon was the cowboy that was a worker on your parent’s ranch. If he wasn’t looking after the cattle, he was teaching you how to ride a horse.

You were walking alongside him around the property when you suddenly grabbed his cowboy hat and placed it firmly on your head. Aegon stopped in his tracks, grinning smugly as he turned to look at you.

“My beautiful girl...” He sighed, “Now you’ve got some riding to do, and not the kind you do on a horse.” He purred. He knew you didn’t know the cowboy hat rule. He planned to use this to his advantage.

“What’s a..cowboy hat rule? That’s what you said right?”

“Oh darling, aren’t you aware yet?” Shaking his head, Aegon chuckled."If you were to wear someone else's cowboy hat, it means you have to give them a ride," he explained. “And since you just took my hat… I’m sure you can put one and two together.”

“Oh..OH! Well I guess it is the rule after all..” You said, not really minding it. You have wanted to fuck him since you first saw him working on the farm, with no shirt on. You saw the swear in his chest.. that moment had made you hornier than anything ever could have before.

He led her to the stable before anyone could see their interaction. Once inside the stable he made sure to lock it. He wanted her, the ‘innocent’ daughter of his boss. Innocent his ass. He heard her in her room one time, moaning out his name as she fucked that toy. That thing was nothing compared to him. He’d make her scream his name, beg him to fill her up. Make her his own little breeding mare, he’d show her.

Aegon led her to a more secluded area, being surrounded by hay bales and pushed her against the wall. He started to touch her breasts through her blouse. When all out of nowhere he went to her pussy. Slowly tracing her folds through her jeans.

“You want this don’t you? Always wanted me, you dirty little slut. I hear you every time you fuck yourself. Moaning out my name like the whore you are.” He growled lowly while still teasing you.

“Please.. I want you.” You were already begging for him. How cute.

“Pathetic slut, but don’t worry.. you’ll get what you deserve.”

He started to unbutton her pants and slide them off completely, tossing them aside. He licked his finger before going back to your entrance still covered by panties. He pushed his finger against it and loved seeing you in agony. He was pleasing you, just not as fast and as much as you’d want right now,

You started to grind against his fingers, wanting more pleasure.

“What’s this? Do you want more? Does the little slut want more?”

“Y-yes.. please..”

“As you wish” With that he tore your panties and what was left he slid it off.

“Spread your legs for me.” Aegon commanded. You couldn’t help but obey, wanting him to touch you everywhere.

Aegon had a look in his eyes that could only mean on thing. You were about to get the best time of your life.

He knelt down and started to tease you by licking your thighs before moving on to your cunt. He started slowly, just going up and down. But he varied it with sucking at your clit, adding a finger or going inside with his tongue. Anything to give you pleasure, to eventually make you scream his name.

You moaned as he sucked at your clit, his touch gave you goosebumps.

“Oh god..” you said as you were whimpering at his touch,

“That’s it love. Cum for me, make a mess.” He teased her. With two fingers he found her G-Spot and kept hitting it while he teased her clit. The moaning became louder as pleasure came in overload.

“Cum for me.” Aegon said, more demanding this time. With one final push against her G-spot, you arched your back and cried out with ecstasy as you had your first climax of that day.

“That’s right, so obedient for me…” Aegon said as he was licking your cunt that was dripping with juice.

“You taste like heaven.” He licked his lips.

Aegon smiled triumphantly as he pulled away. "But now my darling it is my turn," he growled, undoing his jeans and freeing his thick erection.

“What, you didn’t think you’d be the only one getting pleasure now would you?” Aegon said while stroking his erection.

“N-no of course not… it’s only fair..”

“Right, come on, make yourself useful. On your knees.” He commanded you. You felt the need to please him, after all he did just gave you an amazing orgasm.

"Open wide," he ordered, pushing the head of his erection past your parted lips and into your waiting mouth. He groaned at the feeling of your lips around his member. He increased the pace and his own climax didn’t take long. He erupted all into your mouth.

“Swallow it.” Aegon said while grabbing your chin making you look up to him while swallowing.

“Good girl.” Was the praise that followed after you showed your empty mouth.

“Now let us get to the fun part.”

“Do you trust me?” Aegon asked as he eyed some rope hanging around a screw on the wall. As you followed his gaze you knew what he wanted to do. You were open to it, wanting to try new things. “Yes, I do.”

He grabbed a riding crop. He ran the crop down your back making you feel the leather. He ran it over your crotch and ran the tip of the crop lightly over your wet folds. As you let out a noise of enjoyment he swatted the crop so it came down on your clit.

“Do you like how the crop feels?” Aegon asked while checking for any signs of discomfort or resistance.

“M-mhm I-I do Aeg.. I-it’s just a lot.” You said lost in the pleasure.

“Mmm that’s good.” He replied with a satisfied grin.

He used the crop with carefulness and precision , hitting just the right spot to send waves of pleasure flowing through your body while not causing actual harm.

You whimpered as the crop danced across your sensitive skin, driving you wild with desire.

"Such a pretty little slut," Aegon murmured, trailing the tip of the crop along your inner thighs before returning to your swollen clit.

"You love being treated like this, don't you?" he asked, knowing full well that there was no way you could deny it after what he just saw.

You nodded weakly, unable to speak due to the pleasure coursing through your body.

"Good," Aegon continued, increasing the pressure on your clit with the crop, causing you to cry out in ecstasy.

"Now spread your legs wider for me," he commanded, and you complied without hesitation.

“Please Aegon! Just take me! I need you inside of me! Please I need you to fill me, to complete me!” You were begging him by now, he liked to see you in this state, begging him to please you, for him to take what’s his.

“Awww does my little slut want my cock? Does she?” He teased you

You whimpered, unable to form words as you felt the head of his cock press against your entrance. You barely managed to nod.

That was all the confirmation he needed, he drove his hips forward and pushed his length into your tight entrance with one swift motion.

You cried out with pleasure at the feeling of being filled by his massive cock.

"Good girl," he growled, gripping your hips as he began to move inside you at a rapid speed.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, holding onto him tightly as he fucked you without mercy or any signs of stopping.

"Such a filthy little slut," Aegon whispered near your ear, the action making you shiver with goosebumps, kissing your neck and biting your fragile skin.

"You love it when I fill you up, don’t you? My personal little slut" He grabbed your throat while pounding into you.

Aegon withdrew from you, before slamming right back in with full force. Making her cry out and hold onto him for support.

"You're mine now," he growled, "my little slut to do with as I please."

You moaned audibly , not able to contain your pleasure as Aegon continued to pound into you relentlessly.

"Say it," Aegon demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

You hesitated for a moment before finally admitting.

"Yours," you whispered, your voice barely being heard, but it was enough for Aegon.

Aegon grinned, knowing he had broken you completely.

"That's right," he growled, increasing his pace even further

"Such a good little slut," Aegon added, smirking as he felt your walls clench around his huge cock.

"Just like I knew you would be. Always teasing me with those short shorts and tiny tops. I should’ve done this a long time ago.”

Aegon grinned wickedly, feeling your walls clench around his cock as you climaxed.

“There we go, my little slut. Does this feel better?” He made sure that despite the degradation you were in fact still enjoying it. He wouldn’t have continued without it.

He felt his own climax coming

“Gonna fill you up nice and sweet, how does that sound? Something you can wrap your pretty little brain around?”

“M-mhm! Want you to.” That was the green light he needed and he came inside. He stayed inside for just a tad longer before pulling out.

“You were so good for me love.” He said as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. He grabbed some tissues he had in the stable and cleaned you up to the best of his abilities without touching your now even more sensitive cunt.

“You’ve earned the hat my love. It’s all yours.”

#x reader #hotd x reader #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii targaryen #hotd aegon #aegon targaryen x you #hotd smut #aegon targaryen smut #modern!aegon targaryen #modern hotd #cowboy #cowboy au

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zzoguri · 5 days

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safe haven (how much longer do we have?) ➵ kim taerae

kim taerae x reader, slight sung hanbin x reader

you can only hope for more tomorrows with taerae.

genre/warnings ➵ strangers to lovers, heavy angst with a happy ending, touch of fluff, afab reader (no gendered terms), lowercase intended, apocalypse au, hurt/comfort (both physical and emotional), depictions of grief, descriptions of gore/blood, use of guns, allusions and discussions of suicide, minor character deaths, hanbin is your ex, zhanghao and matthew appearance :’), elements of the last of us (don’t support neil druckmann!), mostly written in past tense (because u’re remembering!)

word count ➵ 6.2k words

inspired by ➵ “anaheim” by niki, “are you happy?” by wavesmp3, “love wins all” by iu, episode three of hbo’s the last of us, and “you’re gonna carry that weight” quote from cowboy bebop

a/n ➵ thought i'd make my official debut to zeroseblr with this lil piece that i absolutely love!! i hope you guys look forward to more zb1 fics from me :DD here's the original one if you're interested! if you enjoyed reading, please do reblog and leave feedback!

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! masterlist

time was the one thing that occupied everyone’s minds. it held value, something that shouldn’t be wasted, and people revolved their lives around it.

questions flew around with every tick and tock—what day is it today? when’s your next doctor’s appointment? how long has it been since you’ve last seen your friends from high school? until when does this meeting last?

as the hands of the clock continue to rotate, the calendar pages would flip along. birthdays were celebrated with every revolution as candles on cakes were lit up, awaiting the puff of celebrants as they wished for their desires. holidays were ones to look forward to; people dressed up to celebrate periods of the year that mattered to them while others slept in until noon. and days were spent counting down until graduations, where caps with tassels would fly to the expanse of blue and orange as cheers and sobs sound throughout.

but now, no one keeps track of time. clocks stopped moving and calendars weren’t produced annually. once the surge of the infected took over, grabbing on humans, taking them away from the lives they’ve lived, everyone ran like they were running out of time. with every second that passes, people are ridden with possibilities of how they might bid farewell to life itself—would it be through the hands of the infected or their own?

now, only one question echoes within their minds: how long do we have?

yet, the clock continues—tick, tock, tick, tock. it keeps going, and going, and going, like how everyone expects it. while everyone seemed to let time go, you still kept track of it all: birthdays, holidays, a graduation you never had.

the outbreak hit two years ago on the day of hanbin’s graduation. cheers turned into screams. white togas and diplomas were splattered with red. the lively became lifeless.

you remember hanbin’s hand in yours, fingers gripping you as if you were his life, as you charged out of the gymnasium, legs keeping up with the speed of his. you darted off to nowhere as images of the infected tearing people apart took up every block, all the way from skin to bone.

and while it was a rush of tragedies, hanbin was the only hope you had.

“keep your eyes on me,” he glanced at you, eyes off the path as he met your gaze. “don’t look at them. only look at me.”

it was impossible to ignore the wails that filled your ears, but you would repeat his words—his soft-spoken voice—to drown them out.

by nightfall, you and hanbin found yourselves in a motel room, skin cleaned from blood splatters and dressed in clothes that engulfed your figures, and in each other’s arms on a twin-sized bed. the duvet that wrapped around you two is thin, not at all keeping you warm for the night, but the warmth of hanbin was enough to provide you a sense of security—stability amidst the ever-changing world.

he whispered into the crown of your head, words meant to dispel your fears, all while you sobbed into his shirt. there was nothing that he could do but stay strong for you.

and for a few days, that room acted as your safe haven. the time spent within those four walls is the life you imagined your future with hanbin. it would’ve been in a two-story house with a garden where a singular orange tree stands, lounging on the couch as you played movies to fall asleep to, but all you had was an old room with a carpeted floor with unrecognizable stains and a bathroom unable to fit two.

yet, you would choose this over anything. even if it meant eating instant noodles for every meal or sleeping on a mattress that ruins your backs, you would choose this if it meant hanbin would be with you.

still, time continues to move. hanbin knew that you both couldn’t stay in that room or else the infected may reach you. so when you both went to bed on that last night, you outlined his features from the space between his eyebrows all the way to his lips, and you spent that time memorizing his warmth to carry with you for the rest of your life. you could only hope that he stays with you until the end.

after a month passed, you and hanbin met zhanghao, an injured boy who only wanted to live. at first, hanbin was hesitant to take the stranger in, but you wouldn’t allow yourself to live with the idea of abandoning someone in need. in a world where the infected have taken over, it only seemed right to help out others, save them from a fate they’re not ready to meet.

what started off as a pair turned into a trio. you’ve learned more about what it takes to survive in this life. long gone is the need for money to buy necessities; you need to scavenge if you want to live in an infected-ridden world. thanks to zhanghao, you and hanbin got to learn about how to find supplies in every building that you pass on the journey.

but it’s not enough to know where to find food and bullets. hanbin decided that it was only right to teach you how to use a gun. with every morning that came, you two spent hours learning how to hold, reload, and fire.

“don’t worry,” he told you as his chin hovered over your shoulder. you both stared at the tin can situated on a stack of boxes only a few meters away. “you won’t have to worry about fighting alone. i’ll be here with you.” as you exhaled, your eyes zeroed in on the target. “now, shoot.”

six months have passed, and you were happy that you were still a trio. zhanghao became your best friend over that time. his laughs were enough to shine glimmers of hope onto you. you were glad that you decided to help him off the ground and tend his bullet wound that day.

until you found yourselves retreating from the horde of infected.

time moves at a constant speed but it can become swift if it decides to. when you and zhanghao reached the doors leading to safety, you remember seeing hanbin fighting off those who were once like you, bullets firing at their heads. you remember your screams, telling him to run to you—go to where it’s safe—so that you can keep having tomorrows with him.

yet, hanbin glanced at zhanghao, nodding at him before his eyes met yours. you watched how his mouth moved, a soundless three-word phrase leaving him before the doors shut before you. you would’ve pried them open but zhanghao kept his arms around you, holding you back. from letting the infected reach you. from letting hanbin come back to you.

the wails that left you are enough to attract the infected. if only the infected were to burst through the doors, grab onto you and bring you to hanbin, then maybe you would stop crying. yet, zhanghao dragged you away. you never saw him as your best friend after that.

a month passed, and you still refused to talk to him. the boy tried to strike up a conversation with you, trying to earn your laugh like he used to, but he was only met with a cold shoulder. with every brick he put, you smashed your sledgehammer against it, dispelling any hope he had in rekindling his friendship with you.

the two of you learned to live in silence, fighting for survival while dealing with the loss of the one who would always bring you both to safety.

until you came across another boy who pointed his gun toward you. his defensive demeanor reminded you of hanbin, and you wondered if this was his doing—his reincarnation. but before he could pull the trigger, zhanghao saved you from meeting your fate.

somehow, the duo had turned into a trio once more. you still refused to talk to zhanghao, but would eavesdrop on the conversations he shared with the stranger. you learned that the new addition is named taerae.

but even the stranger wasn’t enough to fill the void that hanbin left. with every nightfall, when the soft snores of the two boys filled your ears, tears streamed down your face as sobs threatened to spill out of your mouth. the palm of your hand wasn’t enough to muffle your weeps. behind your eyelids, hanbin’s last words to you play on repeat. the ones he failed to say. the ones you’ll never hear again.

maybe if you didn’t leave that motel room then he would’ve still been with you, arms finding their place around your waist as he trails kisses all over you. if the outbreak didn’t happen, then maybe you would be living in that two-story house with him. maybe you would wake up to a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice by the bedside table and the warmth of his lips on your forehead. and maybe you could finally tell him yes before he slips the silver band on your finger—you could’ve grown with him until your hair turns grey.

the weight you carry never got lighter with time. the void continued to consume you whole with the goal of ripping you apart. as another month passed, another life was lost—not to the infected but to the raiders.

“hao, you have to stay with me.” those were the first words you told him since hanbin’s death. crimson continued to spill out of his abdomen through the gaps between your fingertips in the same way tears flow out. “taerae! find gauze, betadine, anything!” you never glanced at the stranger, keeping your gaze on your best friend whose eyes continued to droop.

still, zhanghao caressed your face, thumb wiping teardrops. as he slowly entered territories that you both knew he would never escape, he grinned at you one last time. “i missed hearing you. i’m glad you’ll be the last thing i hear.”

but you tried to tell him that you couldn’t be the last voice he heard. it should’ve been with someone he can imagine his future with, maybe in a two-story house or a cramped flat in an apartment complex. he deserves more tomorrows in the same way hanbin did.

but time continues to move. it took him away from you in a matter of minutes, slithering away without a second thought and no regard for the value of life, and all you were left with was his temple—still. lifeless. as you sobbed into his shirt, still holding the wound, the warmth of taerae’s hand stayed on your back, moving along with your wails.

now, you carry the loss of two. it never got easier with time.

taerae still sticks with you. it only seemed right. stay strong in numbers as you wander off to nowhere, grasping at the loose ends of survival.

two weeks have passed. you and taerae got used to the new dynamic; while he went hunting and you were tasked with scavenging, you both played your roles in combat, ready for any raid or horde. when night came, you both took shifts, keeping watch while the other got some shut-eye.

until that one evening.

you recall the sounds of wood crackling from the fire. it stood strong against the breeze—burning, shining—surrounded by greens that latch on browns. hues of amber cascaded over your skin, painting you with warmth—it’ll never compare to the one you craved. your eyes drifted to taerae who sat across from you, his eyes trained on the fire as he rubbed his palms together. perhaps he craved the same type of warmth you longed for.

“we used to be three.” his eyes snapped towards yours. “before you came, we used to be three—zhanghao, me, and—” it rose in you like bile, wanting to escape but never leaving. “we were three then.”

you glanced at the fire that continued to burn. “we met zhanghao a month after the outbreak, spent six months together until—” the claws of the void struck against your throat, holding you back from sharing with the stranger what your life was before he came. while you never found the right words to say, taerae never pushed, letting you say what you wanted to share while filling in the blanks on his own.

“i resented zhanghao after what happened.” you moved your gaze to taerae whose eyes never left you. “refused to talk to him. refused to forgive.” and you remember how you hesitated, taking a deep breath in before sputtering out the next sentence. “refused to accept.”

nine months ago, the outbreak didn’t happen. nine months ago, you were attending hanbin’s graduation. nine months ago, you two were imagining your tomorrows—together, for eternity.

and those nine months fractured all hopes and dreams; the glass is now littered with cracks, ready to burst into shards.

“but i think about the last time we saw zhanghao,” the image of him sitting in front of you all frail, treading the line between life and death, flashed in front of you; it’s quick but strong to remind you of what’s lost. “and i wish i could’ve learned how to forgive during those two months.”

but it was an impossible request. how could you ever forgive a boy you’ve known for only six months for taking your future away? how could you forgive a world that took him away? how could you forgive and live?

and still, you did.

you left it at that. they were enough. so when you told taerae that you’ll take over tonight’s shift, he never asked to hear more. instead, he laid near the campfire as you keep an eye out.

and once enough hours have passed, you allowed yourself to sob like other nights. the breeze that passed through branches reminded you of zhanghao; rustling leaves imitated the giggles of the boy you’ve only known during the apocalypse.

the wind that grazed against your skin should’ve been a nuisance, but the warmth of the fire wrapped you up like the duvet in that motel room. and you don’t complain—it’s the only part of hanbin you have left.

the heat was enough to last you the night, but the chill of reality sent you back to the void.

that night, taerae listened to your sobs. not one of you got enough rest for the journey.

another two weeks went by. you two got into a better groove of the routine; instead of hunting and scavenging in silence, you and taerae found yourselves talking more about your lives before the outbreak. you learned that he’s only a year younger than hanbin, and he shared that he had plans to pursue music.

“if the world finds a cure to this mess, you have to promise me that you’ll get me front-row tickets to your first show.” it was a joke. in what world could there be a cure for the infected? but the wishful thinking of what could be—what could’ve been—is all you had left.

still, taerae promised you that.

that night, you two stayed in the living room of an abandoned house. instead of lighting the fireplace, candles were placed on the coffee table. they shined in the middle of you two, you who stayed on the couch and taerae who sat on the mattress lying on the floor.

“where were you?” his eyes met yours. “on the day of the outbreak, i mean.”

he leaned back, hands resting on the mattress before he looked once more at the wax that continued to melt. “i was there for my upperclassmen’s graduation.” it hit you like a sudden downpour on a sunny day. “i knew the people in the music program and we were going to celebrate after. until the infected came.”

and when you said the name of the university, his gaze met yours as his shoulders stiffened. “m—my hanbin.” it’s the first time you spoke of his name, and the sight of taerae’s eyes widening over it was enough to speak for himself.

“i—i didn’t know,” he whispered, but his words were loud enough to shatter glass. “i only spoke to him a few times. he spoke of you with so much love.”

your heart skipped beats; it should’ve been enough to send you off into the same territories where hanbin and zhanghao now stay. your mouth turned dry as taerae’s voice morphed into radio silence.

before you knew it, the two of you left the information to hang in the air as you tried to drift into slumber. the clock continues to tick. minutes turned into hours; time moves like it usually does once more.

yet, you were stuck in the same gymnasium, fixing hanbin’s toga as you scolded him about how wrinkled it’s become—hey! you’ll go up on stage soon. we can’t take pictures of you like this. despite your words, he smiled at you before grazing his lips on your temple—his silent way of telling you the three-word phrase.

in a split second, you were off the couch. you barged out of the house, clutching your chest as the knot constricted your throat, and your feet dragged you off to nowhere. every sound has turned into a buzz—only the voice of hanbin being the one clear thing amidst the hysteria.

before you knew it, you stood before a horizon of green. it takes only one step into the woods, alone with no protection, for you to meet your demise. you would’ve charged into it in the same way you would’ve charged out to save hanbin that day.

all it takes is one step, and—

“what are you doing?!” a pair of hands gripped your shoulders, spinning you around until you were face-to-face with the last form of life that you know of. his breaths were short as his fingers dug into your arms. “you can’t just rush out in the middle of the night! i woke up worried sick.” his eyebrows knitted in frustration. confusion. distress.

the voice was caught in your throat. how does one begin to unpack the baggage they’ve learned to carry? when the items they bring are revolting, rotten, repugnant, how does someone not feel shame about showing all the tattered-up objects?

how do you learn to open up to someone you’ve only known for three months?

your hands trembled; you’ve carried the weight of it all for too long.

in that split second, your nose met the juncture between his chin and shoulder. the material of his shirt against your cheek allowed you to bathe in what you miss—the hand of zhanghao that once caressed your face. the lips of hanbin that lingered with every kiss. all the moments that you hoped time would freeze just for you lives in the boy you stick with for survival.

all it took were taerae’s hands to rest on the lower side of your back for the tears to begin their stream. the sobs spill out. for once, they weren’t muffled like those other nights. they sounded throughout the space that surrounded you two. you allowed yourself to drop the baggage only for a few minutes.

taerae took you back to the house that night, allowing you to sob about all that you’ve kept under the wraps. when sunrise came, you found your legs mixed with his as his arms remained wrapped around you, and your ear pressed against his chest. the sound of his breathing is the one reminder of what a safe haven is.

half a year went by. taerae still stays by your side. the baggage got lighter.

it should’ve been the same routine; taerae goes off to hunt while you scavenge, and you’ll take turns on the night shifts. but that night shifted something between you two—stolen glances, quiet giggles, linked fingers.

two months have gone by. the moon shined through the trees, their shadows cascading on an abandoned cabin that you and taerae decided to stay in for that night.

it should’ve been the same set-up as other nights spent in abandoned houses; you’ll sleep on the couch while he sleeps on a dragged-out mattress. instead, he sat with you, your back resting on his chest along with his hand staying on your arm.

a lit candle rested on the table; its amber tones painted the taerae’s skin—close to the fruit tree that stands in your lost future.

“what would you do if there is a cure to this?” you watched how his fingers danced across your skin, calloused from plucking guitar strings or wielding a gun.

taerae’s chest rumbled against your back as he hummed. “what would you do?”

a giggle left as you looked at the boy. “i was the one who asked you first!”

he shot you a grin as his hand slipped into yours. the candle continued to burn; it did a poor job of giving you light and warmth that night. but he did it all—one smile. one exhale. one indication to show that he lives.

“travel, maybe? or i’ll go back to writing music.” you nodded at his plans before looking back at the light source. “what about you?”

“i don’t know.”

there was no point in going back to university after such a catastrophe. if anything, the year spent surrounded by the infected, fighting for survival, has shown you that there’s more to life than the perpetual cycle of working a nine-to-five.

so…

“i would settle down if i could.” the wax continued to melt. “i think i’ve seen enough of the world. for once, i just want to stay home, indulge in my hobbies, live the life that i want.”

his breath grazed the top of your head. “with someone?” and suddenly, you became aware of it all—the heat that emitted from his palm, the movement of his chest against your back, the gravity of his question.

the words get caught in your throat. your heartbeat rang in your ears. for the first time since hanbin’s death, you considered it.

“with someone.”

before you knew it, his hand caressed your cheek. you were forced to meet his eyes which glistened with devotion. he leaned forward, his breath grazing your skin while you held in yours. you didn’t miss how his gaze flickered to your lips before he met your eyes once more.

then, he held back. it’s a choice, one only you can make. but when your eyes shut, it’s a quiet plea—a silent yes.

his lips met yours.

the warmth that blossomed in your chest wasn’t like the one in that motel room. not like the embrace of the one you’ve lost. it was one of all seasons—changing with the weather, bringing comfort throughout the everchanging times.

it’s a perpetual cycle of fighting for survival. you’ll endure through it all.

a month passed by, and you came across another boy on the journey. he’s named matthew, and he told you of a safe haven located in the town that you and taerae grew up in.

for a moment, it was an internal debate—should you go back to where the downfall started? can you go to where the memory of hanbin still lives?

but one glance at taerae was enough to settle it. the three of you embarked on your journey.

you remember that day. it was a walk with the goal of finding a car to make the journey back an easy one. the heat of the sun prickled against your skin, but you still kept your arms crossed.

“are you two together?” matthew asked, causing you to whip your head towards him. your eyes met taerae’s for a split second—confusion, dejection—before they landed back at the stranger who kept his eyes on the path you took.

“no, we aren’t.”

for the rest of the journey, it was quiet.

sundown came, and you found yourselves in a convenience store for that night’s shelter. taerae was in charge of taking the night shift, allowing you and matthew to rest up. when the stranger went off to sleep on the makeshift bed, you were left alone with taerae.

you watched how he cleaned his gun with a rag stained with dark splotches. the moon gleamed through the window—it cannot compare to how taerae shines.

you needed to get some sleep, is what you tell yourself. with one spin, you were about to make your way to where you’d sleep for that night.

“are we really not?” you halted in your tracks. you couldn’t look at him. “did it mean nothing?”

not a single answer left your mouth. your eyes remained straightforward, refusing to meet his gaze.

the warmth vanished with a lack of an answer. instead, it was replaced once more with the cold—the void—that attempted to consume you whole.

and when a scornful chuckle left taerae, you knew that you’d burnt the bridge. you walked away, leaving him to do his job, bidding farewell to the closest form of a safe haven.

two weeks went by and another goodbye had to be done. matthew stood in front of you two, a grin on his lips while tears streamed down his face. his arm was out, revealing a bite mark. the veins near the wound had already turned black. he would’ve turned in a few hours.

“go out.” those were taerae’s first words to you since that night in the convenience store.

you remember the last thing you told matthew before you left the room—you’ll get to your safe haven. the sobs that spilled out of him are ones you’ll never forget. and when you shut the door behind you, it took 20 seconds until you heard a gunshot.

the weight got heavier once more.

another two weeks went by, and you and taerae found yourselves standing in front of the remains of a safe haven. the fences were torn down. streaks of dark red littered over pavements. not a single sight of a soul lived.

still, you two trudged your way through the town, all the way until you reached taerae’s house. like others, his was abandoned. the cream walls were littered with red strokes and vines. when you both entered, you didn’t miss how taerae’s eyes lingered on a photo hung on the wall—a picture of him, his sister, and his parents.

you gave him all the time he needed to explore, to sit with the mess, while you stayed in the living room. as you sat on the couch that had gathered dust, you caught sight of a bowl of plastic produce that rested on the coffee table. it held a variety of fruits whose paint had chipped: watermelon, chestnut, and fig.

but amidst the crowd of old, torn-down, plastic fruits, a strawberry and an orange leaned against each other as grime collected on them. once your hands reached out to the fruits, you pulled them apart—a mess of red and orange stained the two.

he came back to you in 30 minutes, eyes glistening with tears. yet, he only gave you a nod, and you two went to another house.

you then stood in front of your old house with taerae by your side. weeds grew in the front yard, and the wooden exterior has turned a few shades darker. silence settled between you two.

to be back in a place you grew up in, where all your memories live, is a process—a grieving one. being face-to-face with the damage brought by the infected can only remind you of what you had and could’ve had.

and once you made your way to your childhood room, you were reminded of all your hopes and dreams before the outbreak. dust rested on top of books. the laptop on your desk had no charge. potted plants have withered.

when you approached the picture frames found on your table, your hand darted out to a photograph of you and hanbin. there was no occasion when that picture was taken—the fact that you two were together was enough for it to be remembered. memorialized.

as you made your way back down the stairs, you saw taerae crouched in front of the console table with eyes trained on photographs. “was this your high school graduation?” you approached him and saw the picture he was referring to, you who stood beside hanbin with a big grin as his lips were on your temple.

“yeah,” you said as you crouched beside taerae. “we knew each other back when i was a freshman.” your fingers trailed on the wooden frame, gathering the dust before flicking it away. despite your efforts, it was still covered in grime, but you didn’t mind.

“and you stayed together since?” all you did was hum. “did you find anything up there?”

for the first time since you entered your old house, you looked at taerae and he met your gaze. your eyes trailed his features. the eyes that speak of a thousand words. the lips that once kissed yours.

and it hit you like the gunshot that filled your ears, the breeze that rustled the leaves that one night, the doors that shut close. it was 20 months since the outbreak happened, 13 months since you lost hanbin, and 11 months since zhanghao told you his last words—but it was also 13 months spent with taerae, choosing to survive with him.

“yeah.”

you found a lot of things within those four walls. there were books you once read growing up, stuffed toys you slept with, and the one picture of you and hanbin; they’re the remaining pieces you have left of a life that was good.

you would’ve kept it all, rebuilt the life that was ripped away by the hands of the infected—

“but nothing to hold on to.”

they’re memories, ones you’ll carry with you, but ones worth moving on from.

“oh,” he said as his eyes still held your gaze. “okay.”

and with one exhale, you said, “let’s rebuild it, just a place for us two.”

it was a whirlwind of emotions in taerae’s eyes, ones you can’t identify. for a moment, you thought he’d say no. maybe he decided that 13 months was enough. one more day with you would be too much, and—

“okay.” when his hand reached out for yours, linking fingers with you like all other times, you gave him a small smile.

when you and taerae stood up, you made your way out of the house, off to find a place just for you two—a safe haven to last you many tomorrows with him.

a month passed. the safe haven was rebuilt; the fences stood strong with electrical wires and barbed wires, and the town was cleaned of all remnants of grime and blood. the two of you took up different tasks ranging from cleaning, cooking, building, and maintaining the haven.

but while you were okay with a knife, accidents did happen. “fuck!”

“what happened?” you remember how taerae came rushing in, only to see you pressing on the skin around the cut on your finger.

before you knew it, you were sitting down with him as he wrapped gauze around the wound. “taerae, it’s just a cut. i’ll be fine.”

“still, i don’t want you getting hurt.” you watched how his eyes were focused on treating your finger. “i’ll be in charge of cooking now.”

you shook your head. “no, i like to cook. i want to cook for us.” his gaze then met yours, his filled with worry while yours filled with determination. they flickered back to your finger, and his hands busied themselves with covering it up.

once he was done, his hand continued to hold yours. you remember the heat of his thumb as it drew patterns on your hand. he’s etched himself onto you.

his eyes met yours once more, and he said, “okay, just let me help out.” all you gave him was a nod.

another month went by, and you woke up to the sound of gunshots. you remember how hazy your vision was that night, fresh from sleep but panic coursing through your veins. and when you looked beside you to only see an empty spot, you didn’t think twice about rushing out of bed.

when you exited the house, you saw taerae holding his gun, firing at the people who attempted to tear down the haven’s fences. “taerae!” when he looked back at you, you caught sight of the crimson that poured out of his abdomen.

another gunshot was fired, grazing taerae’s leg, and he fell to his knees. you ran to him, reaching out to rest your hand on the wound as you began to sob. “fuck! you have to stay with me.” with his arm resting around your shoulders, you dragged him back to the house.

you set him on the table and moved his hand to hold where he was shot. “hold it.” you rushed to where the medical supplies were stored and gathered whatever you could hold. when you got back, you saw how blood continued to spill out.

you got to work, focused on trying to patch him up. making sure he stays. “you can’t go. i won’t let it happen.” and while your hands busied themselves with treating the injury, you remember how taerae’s hand caressed your cheek, thumb wiping away the spilled tears.

“in the basement, there’s a piece of paper that has all the codes. if you ever—”

“no, you’ll be okay.”

still, he continued to talk. “if you ever forget the codes, you can always look at the paper. don’t forget that you need to always check the water system every two days, and—”

“taerae!” you croaked out his name in between sobs. “you’ll be okay. you have to, okay?” the more he went on about what to keep in mind, the baggage got heavier. “i can’t do this without you. i won’t allow it.”

because 15 months ago, you would’ve bid farewell to the mayhem. 13 months ago, you hoped for time to drag you away. 12 months ago, you would’ve walked into the forest. but it’s been 22 months, and you were still walking on this earth, choosing to live amidst the chaos—so long as taerae was with you.

and when you leaned your forehead on his, eyes closed, you felt his breath graze against your lips. “i need you.”

all it took were three words from you. “okay.”

it’s been two months since that happened. the safe haven was rebuilt once more. you and taerae fortified the defense system, hoping they’ll be enough to keep any infected and raiders out. all that matters is that you two were protected—safe—from the chaos.

now, you sit on a couch as you flip through the pages of a book you didn’t have time to read before the outbreak. when all responsibilities vanished, you were able to find enough time to do things you couldn’t do then.

you were ready to get yourself sucked into the world of the novel, but taerae came into the living room with his hands behind his back and a small smile on his lips. “do you remember what you made me promise you before?”

you frown at him, confused, until he shows you an acoustic guitar. “oh my god, you found one?” you put the book on the coffee table.

he takes a seat beside you, body facing towards you as he rests the instrument on his lap. “here, front-row tickets to my first show.” you almost laughed because this is no stadium or club, but a home—one you built with him.

it takes only one smile from him for you to hold it back.

“any song requests?” he strums on the guitar strings, perfectly in tune. it’s almost as if he tuned it before coming to you.

a hum leaves you as you rest your head on your hand propped on the couch. “whatever you want to show me.”

it takes him a few seconds, fingers fiddling with the strings, until he figures out what to play. when he sings out the words—dearest, darling, my universe—you melt like the candles you lit up those nights. as he continues to play a song of a world in hysteria but a love that endures, that’s when you realize what you’ve had all this time.

time is the one thing that occupies your mind. it holds value, something that shouldn’t be wasted, and you learned to revolve your life around it.

it takes you two years to figure out that life doesn’t end after the outbreak—and 17 months to realize that your safe haven is not a two-story house with an orange tree in the garden but the boy in front of you.

when you lean closer to him, his fingers falter, messing up the chords. your hand reaches out to caress his face as your eyes flicker to his lips. you don’t miss how taerae holds his breath, how he stops playing the guitar, how his eyes look back at yours—it’s a slurry of warmth, tenderness.

“i love you.”

all it took was a three-word phrase from you for him to close the distance.

the warmth that spreads within you is like the one you experience in the abandoned cabin. but now, you’re full of hope—a reason to stay—in an infected-ridden world.

now, only one question echoes within your mind: how much longer do we have?

an eternity is what you hope.

taglist ➵ @kflixnet @blankjournal

#works of moni #kflixnet #bjnet #k-labels #zerobaseone #zb1 #zb1 x reader #kim taerae #zb1 imagines #kim taerae imagines #zb1 angst #kim taerae angst #zb1 fluff #kim taerae fluff #sung hanbin #sung habin fluff #sung hanbin angst #sung hanbin x reader #sung hanbin imagines

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atinylittlepain · 11 months

Text

Only Lovers Left Alive

cowboy!vamp!joel miller x f!reader

joel miller masterlist

He offers her another option between life and death. How could she refuse?

warnings | 18+ smut, slight dubcon initially, gore, blood, dark themes in general, you've been warned muah hahahaha

wordcount: 4.5K

a/n | vamp!joel has me by the throat (pun intended) and though this is my last fic before my two month break, i have decided to turn this into a series that will span the decades! i already have 1920s, 1950s, and 1970s vamp bb waiting in the wings for when i get back in august :) BTW this first one is set in the 1870s ish - ALSO, @toxicanonymity posted a mind-melting vamp!joel fic last night that y'all should check out if you have a taste for the ~darker~ things in life. k, love you, bye

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A condemnation. An exile. Execution and exultation all wrapped up in one. She knew that if she rode out of town she need never look back. A white dress hanging on the bureau in her room the last thing she saw before she slipped out into the night. Her daddy’s gun and her brother’s horse and a scrawled note for her mama left behind. Do not look for me, I am already gone.

She has every intention to be dead by the time the sun unfurls over the plains. The only true escape for a woman in this world, a loveless marriage nipping at her heels on her way out. She rides hard in the inky darkness until the flickering lanterns of the town are only a blink in the distance.

Her hands are shaking as she dismounts, eyes skittering over the lip of the canyon she stands above. A bullet and a fall. If it’s so easy, why can she feel the cool slip of tears as she presses that steel mouth to her temple? Just like she learned from her daddy, thumb back the hammer to load that single, sweet bullet. And a pull, as easy as a loose tooth snapping free.

But before she can, her horse lets out a nervous chitter, head swinging side to side. A man, silent, palms open and up, comes inching toward her out from behind a copse of sagebrush.

“Don’t come any closer!” He stops dead in his tracks, lips parted, eyes wide and glinting in the moonlight.

“Easy, miss. Don’t want any trouble. Just wanted to offer my help.” It’s such a strange thing to say to a woman with a gun nosing at her temple that she finds herself letting out a humorless laugh.

“Do I look like I need any help right now?” It surprises her, the smile that softens his features, eyes crinkling up, soaked in kindness, and understanding.

“With all due respect, miss, you seem perfectly capable. But you should know that pistol of yours ain’t loaded.” She almost doesn’t want to check, a hot rush of embarrassment skittering up her spine when she does and sees that the man is right. She can already feel the tight sting of tears, something uglier and more desperate than frustration settling in her stomach.

“You probably think I’m a fool, don’t you?” The man takes another step forward, still with his hands up, still with that kind look in his eyes.

“I don’t think you’re a fool. Think you’re hurting like a lot of other folks out on these plains.” Another two steps closer and he extends his hand out to her, and for some reason, she takes it.

“Name’s Joel Miller, miss. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, even under such circumstances.” Deep, dark brown eyes that swallow her up. She finds herself telling him her name before she can even think not to.

“I ain’t gonna try to talk you out of anything. What I can offer you are some bullets, and maybe a meal if you’d like to stick around a little longer.” All charm, the quicksilver of his smile crooking in the pale light and she has to force herself to let go of his hand. She tries to take a few stumbling steps back, oblivious to the cliff-side her heel skids right over, a clipped yelp jolting through her chest before strong arms are wrapping around her waist and tugging her back from the edge.

“Woah there, miss. I think you’d prefer a bullet to a fall like that.” The way he so easily talks about it makes her stomach flip, something slippery settling that isn’t altogether unpleasant.

“I don’t have money and I ain’t that type of girl if you’re thinking you’ll get something out of helping me.” He laughs, a low thrumming thing, his palms still gripping her waist, his legs brushing against her skirts.

“Ain’t that type of man, miss, I promise. Just another lonely soul like yourself.” His hands slip away from her, stepping back, a chill running up her spine that makes her flush.

“Tell you what, I’ve got a camp a few yards ahead. A quick ride on that horse of yours. You can think on it and when we get there, I’ll get you your bullets and if you’re inclined to it, a warm meal.” She knows she can’t go home, not now, something worse than death waiting for her there. And something about this man, Joel, is making her want to say yes.

“Alright, you have a deal. But just because my gun isn’t loaded doesn’t mean I don’t know how to use it in other ways so you better not try anything.” A grin, all teeth.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, miss.”

He’s strong, she can feel it in the bulk of his thighs settling behind her on her horse, the steady, solid front of him pressed against her back. By the time they canter into a small rock outcropping, her mind is hazy with the feel of muscle pushing and pulling against her.

True to his word, the first thing he does after helping her down from her horse is to rustle around in his pack, taking out a silvery pistol and giving her two bullets from his own barrel, palms brushing in the trade.

“Those oughta work just fine in that gun of yours, though I am waiting on your answer.” That same slanted smile of his, eyes flicked up with the tilt of his chin.

“Please, miss. Pity a poor, lonely man. Just a bite.” How could she say no to that?

In the warm glow of the fire, shadows and light reveal just how handsome he is. The strong hook of his nose, the cut of his jaw beneath that patchy scruff of his. And those eyes, flickering in the flames, watching her every move.

She hadn’t realized how hungry she was, and though it’s sparse, rough fixings, she finds herself scraping up every last bite. No one to tell her to chew with her mouth closed, no table to get her elbows smacked off of, just this strange, silent man staring at her.

“Aren’t you hungry too?”

“Oh no, miss, I’m quite alright.” It makes her pause, her breath hitching, as she stares down at her already empty plate, her stomach rolling in a quick lurch.

“You– I–”

“You worried I poisoned you?” He says it with that same grin, and she’d like to scramble onto her feet and onto her horse and get as far away from him as she can. But the cool prickle running up her spine keeps her seated right where she is, trying to stammer out some sort of response. Joel is quick to silence her stumblings with another laugh though, teeth glinting in the swerving light of the fire.

“That’s alright, miss. But you should know I don’t want to harm you. I want to help you.”

“Help me?”

“Uh-huh. What if I told you that I could offer you another way out that doesn’t involve putting a bullet in that pretty head of yours?” Those eyes of his are catching her again, soothing the stilted beat in her ribs.

“W-what would it involve?”

“Well that’s a bit hard to explain, miss. But I assure you, it’s nothing you wouldn’t enjoy, thoroughly.” His hand reaches out, fingers tracing along the hinge of her jaw, brushing down the side of her neck before dipping under the neckline of her dress, flickering back and forth, back and forth along her skin.

“If you ask me, a sweet thing like you deserves more out of this cruel, cruel world.”

“M-more?” Shifting closer to her, his arm draping over her shoulders, pulling her into the haze of him, that silvery grin up close.

“Don’t you want to feel good, miss?” His lips so close she can feel the brush of them along her cheek, his fingers curling tighter around her shoulder. And then, with a stuttered nod of her head, she sinks into him completely.

She’s only had frivolous, playground kisses before. Quick, daring pecks followed by a fast dash away before anyone could catch them. This is not that. He devours her, licking into her mouth in a way that both shocks and soothes, his palm coming to hold her jaw firm in place as his lips move against hers. And she takes it, all of it, letting him move her to his will, his lips a wandering drag beneath the hinge of her jaw, lingering along the arc of her neck before dipping down to the tops of her heaving breasts pressing against the neckline of her dress.

“How sweet you are, my darlin. Sweet everywhere, ain’t you?” There’s nothing she could possibly say to that, her mind spinning in jagged gasps of sensation when he brings his hands to the front of her dress and rips clean down the front of it, corset and all, leaving her in just the thin gauze of her slip. She finds something like courage, a small ember of it smoldering enough for her to start tugging at the shoulders of his leather coat, earning a chuckle from him when he finally gets the hint and shrugs out of it.

“I need your words, darlin, else I can’t do this. Do you want this?” She’s not even entirely sure what this is, only that her mind is swimming in it, in him, and she wants more of it.

“Yes, Joel, I want this, I do.” He pulls her in for another bruising kiss, lips curled in that grin as he coaxes her to lay out on the cold desert ground, though she doesn’t mind with the way her body is burning up beneath his touch.

She’s never done this before, guided only by the sharp tug in her belly, that aching want intensifying as he rucks her slip up beneath her collar bones and begins a salacious trail down her skin. His lips close around the peak of one of her nipples, a gasp dragging through her throat as his tongue laves over the bud. But it’s a rattling shock when he dips just a bit lower, teeth sinking into the full curve of her breast before his tongue sweeps over the sting, soothing, soothing, soothing.

Lower and lower, a path of his open mouth mapped across her skin until he’s settled between her thighs, the broadness of his shoulders spreading open the hinge of her hips.

“No one’s had you like this, have they, darlin?” His eyes are blown black, unwavering, turning her shy and small beneath his question, her chin tucking into her shoulder as she shakes her head. He lets out a low groan at her response that makes her thighs clench, jolting in the wide grip of his palms.

“I’ll do all the work. All you have to do is let it feel good.” That’s about all the warning he gives her before his tongue drags a flat stripe through her cunt, her spine arching with the dizzying sensation as he settles his lips over a spot that makes her gasp. Over and over again, his tongue swirls against that aching point of pleasure, his palms turning harsh in their grip on her thighs as her muscles start to shake from it. Her eyes roll back, up to the stars in the pitch-black sky, ears thrumming with the obscene sounds of his lips smacking with her arousal. And it hits her all at once, everything going tight and hot with sensation before she unfurls for him with a sigh of his name, body languid and liquid as he continues to lap at her dripping cunt.

“Feels good, huh, darlin? Can make you feel so much better though.” She groans when his mouth meets hers again, open, wanting, receiving, the taste of herself on his lips making her mind swim. It’s primal, pre-human, the want she feels for the thick heat of him that’s settled between her legs, her hips canting up to chase that pressure.

“Please, Joel, I want to feel good.” She’s almost crying with it. Nothing has felt like this, ever. And he’s more than willing to give her what she wants.

“Gonna take my time with you, darlin. Make it feel real good.” He plants one palm next to her temple in the red earth, his other hand fumbling to unfasten his pants and shuck them down enough so his cock can rest, heavy and flushed against the soft inside of her thigh. She has to bite back a whimper just looking at the sheer size of him.

“Don’t you worry, darlin. Remember what I said, huh? Not gonna harm you, just help you. Relax for me, that’s it.” A stretch, a searing, sick pleasure as he begins to drive his cock into her fluttering cunt. But he’s gentle, so gentle, a slow spread that has her mewling beneath him.

“There you go, taking all of it. Made for me, ain’t you? My angel, all mine.” She can’t help the moan that tears through her chest when he grinds his hips deep and driving, a pulsing, aching fullness that has her digging her nails into his shoulder blades. But that ache bursts into a snarling fire of want when he drags his hips back, only to roll them forward on a much faster, much deepers thrust, already settling them into a dizzying rhythm of push and pull.

“Joel, please I– feels so good, oh my go–”

“Just my name, darlin. Say my name and nothing else.” She does, long drawn out preens of it as he fucks her, that same pleasure pulling taut up and down her spine.

“Again, darlin, just like this.” His words are murmured into her throat, that beating, pumping crook in her neck, and her body responds in kind, unraveling for him all over again as he continues the hot drag of his cock through her cunt. As she starts to come, those open-mouthed kisses snap into something else. Teeth, a graze, and then a sinking, startling pain. All she can do is hold on, her whole body going limp in his arms as that pain radiates into a burning singe. A rushing settles into her ears, dark pinpricks around her vision, barely registering the warbled moan he lets out as she feels something warm smear against her stomach.

“I think I’ll keep you, darlin.”

And then perfect darkness.

…

Like fingers skittering up her throat, she wakes up to a thirst so singular, so consuming, she actually brings her hand to her neck, wincing when her fingers brush what feels like a bruise across her skin.

“You’re awake.” It startles her so badly she jumps, curling up and scrambling back until she’s pressed against a large boulder. Joel sits, crouched, studying her, face schooled and steeled.

“I– how long was I asleep?” Her voice cracks, that thirst making her words weak and warbled.

“About two days. Slept like the dead when I was done with you.” His words crackle with his grin and she has to shake her head to refocus on figuring out where the hell she is. Looking down at her body, she finds herself in men’s clothes, slacks and boots, a button up, all too big for her, most likely Joel’s. And then she remembers what he had done to her dress and her thoughts go hazy again.

“W-where are we, Joel?”

“Just a few miles west. You hungry?”

“No, I’m– I’m thirsty.” His grin goes big and bright at that, silvery slick in the moonlight.

“I bet you are, darlin. Why don’t you come over here and I’ll give you something to drink?” The promise of this need, this burning urge being slaked is enough for her to close the distance between them, letting him maneuver her shivering body into his lap.

“Just give your body what it wants. Easy as reaching out and taking it.” Her palms press against his chest, a futile struggle as he guides her face into the crook of his neck with his hand cupping the back of her head. But something else takes over in her, a fire flickering up her throat when her lips press against the thin skin of his neck. And it is what her body wants, lips parting, teeth snarling and sinking in.

“That’s it, darlin. My angel’s a natural, huh?” When she finally pulls away, eyes hooded and heavy with satisfaction, she finds herself smiling up at him, something slick and sweet simmering in her veins.

“Thank you, Joel.” Teeth, all teeth.

“Of course, darlin. Gonna be you and me from now on.”

…

He offered her another option. Something between life and death. That is where she lives now. This is how she lives now. With him.

When they must, they travel in the day, wide-brimmed hats tilted down, bandanas tied over their faces, long leather coats and gloves. Otherwise, they move in the night, over the vast, whimpering plains, whetting their particular appetites whenever they can, jumping towns before their faces can be known.

A year, maybe two, maybe even three. What use do they have for time? Caught in an endless tangle, just the two of them, and that blazing thirst.

But there is one thing they have their sights set on. Making their way back, retracing their path, her path to him, until they find themselves on the outskirts of a town she swore she’d never see again.

No guns, they don’t need them. Horses set loose, they won’t be needing them either. As the sun dips down over the plains, they walk through the main drag of town. He let her call the shots, agreeing when she insisted they come for the men only. Let the women and children run so long as they stay out of their way.

It’s a long night. One that ends in her childhood home. And by the time the sun is coming up, one would find the ranch house with the front door ajar in a silent yawn, her mama and her sisters having fled. And on the porch, still holding his shotgun, her daddy’s splayed out body. Perhaps luckily, she didn’t have any brothers. Just the man she was supposed to marry.

“I’m so full, Joel. I don’t know if I can have another bite.”

“Hmm, you wanna save him for later?”

“I think I can make room.” Fear, like the cream top on a fresh gallon of milk. So, so sweet and rolling in waves off the man’s trembling body, Joel pinning him against the wall of her childhood bedroom as she paces back and forth. They haven’t had this much to drink in ages, and she feels dizzy, drunk off it, smacking her lips with the lingering taste.

“What are you people? W-what happened to yo–” Joel cuts off the man’s blubbering by jostling him back against the wall, teeth bare, something like a growl pulling from his chest.

“Now, Joel. Didn’t your mama teach you not to play with your food?” She grins, and he mirrors her in turn, looking over his shoulder at her. A hum in her throat, she glances around her old room, eyes settling on the wardrobe, her hands itching with a small want. She’s already moving over to it, opening it, and sure enough, that white dress is tucked inside.

“That’s pretty, darlin. Why don’t you put it on for me?” It’s nothing for Joel to hold the man against the wall, one forearm pinning him by his neck as he turns to watch her, her fingers already flickering through the buttons of her shirt. She strips completely bare, savoring the two sets of eyes trailing her every move as she slips the simple white frock over her body.

“Look like an angel, darlin. Doesn’t she, boy?” Joel punctuates his question with a harsh press of his arm into the man’s windpipe, making him wheeze out a stuttered yes.

“All this talk has worked up my appetite again.”

“This one’s all yours, darlin.”

Blooming red flowers all down her dress, a trail of it down her chin that Joel laps up with a satisfied groan. They turn greedy with it, desperate to get the other bare, and when every thread of clothing is in a pool around their feet, he circles around her, his lips pressing into the striped scars on her back, a mapping of her history that she finally got to repay.

“How’s it taste?”

“You were right, Joel. There’s nothing sweeter.”

“Except for you, darlin.”

She’s not that shy little girl anymore. She knows how to take her pleasure, how to pull it from her man. And tonight, both of their bodies painted and slick with their feast, she does just that. All teeth, sharp, scraping nips when her mouth meets his, her hands tangled up in his hair to tug him closer with a low groan. Push and pull, a stubborn tangle onto the bed, her hands splaying out on his chest, nails digging in enough to make him hiss beneath her. Their skin sticks and slides with all the dribbling blood. They’ve always been messy eaters.

“Look at you, darlin. Like a fucking painting in my lap. So beautiful.” He swipes his thumb over her nipple, collecting a stray trickle of red and sucking it into his mouth with a thrum in his throat. And she in turn dips down to lick up the line of his neck, salt and metal on her tongue. So perfectly sated, she feels dazed with it, a slow-flickering want rolling in her belly as she drags her dripping cunt along his cock, just a taste of the pleasure they’re both chasing. But they’re both too far gone, too full of that ache for her to tease much more, sinking down onto him slow and smooth with a preen curling her spine.

“I’m so, so full, Joel. Fuck, so good.” Her whole body hums with it, the harsh press of his fingers into the curve of her ass, his eyes watching the tight bounce of her breasts each time her hips drop against his, and his cock grazing so deep inside her, that pleasure that snarls with just a tinge of pain.

“Take it, darlin. Fucking take all of it. My angel’s so good, always so good for me.” Planting his feet into the mattress, his thighs settle against her back as he starts to meet her thrusts, a broken cry dragging from her chest as she lurches forward in his hold.

“Yes, yes, yes. I’m so close, Joel. Please don’t stop.” Words she presses against his throat, collapsed on top of him as he fucks up into her, chasing that pleasure with snarling teeth so he can lay it at her feet. It snaps all at once, her whole body going tight and taut around him, a close cry of his name as he fucks her through it. She doesn’t drink, just a simple creature comfort to sink her teeth into the curve of his neck, a lick of pain that sends him right over the edge with her.

They lay like that for a while, chest to chest, mouths sliding lazily together until sunlight starts to flicker through the window. She gets up with a sigh, his softening cock finally slipping out of her as she steps off the bed to close the shutters tight.

“I need a little taste.”

“Reckon there’s some left over, darlin.” The body is still warm, slumped on the floor. She crouches over it, still bare, flecks of red drying and flaking off her skin. His wrist, pale and perfect, untouched, just the place to sink her teeth and pull. Sweet satisfaction singing in her bones, she hums as she slips back into bed, curling up against her man and letting him lick the remnants from her mouth.

The story goes that a town lays somewhere tucked in the rolling dips of the plains that one day went dead. Women and children fleeing, and a fate far worse for the men. You can go searching for it in the daylight, when all lays still and silent, maybe catch a glimpse of a skeleton long picked over by some larger predator. Just don’t stay long enough to see the sun slip over the hills unless you’d like to meet a pair of lovers with a taste for a violence so pure, and an appetite that surely can’t be human.

“You and me, darlin. Forever.”

“Forever, Joel.”

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller angst #the last of us #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #joel miller au #joel miller fic #joel miller series #joel miller imagine

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thatcheesyler · 1 month

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Working on a lee!Striker, lers!Fizzarolli and Blitzø fic, so uh..lmk what you think so far 🫠

Just Clownin' Around (WIP)

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Some say that singing a whole ‘fuck you’ song to your boss and then quitting your job while saying goodbye in a surprisingly good impression of your boss's accent might not be the best thing for one's mental health. But why should Fizzarolli care? He's thriving in Hell with his huge boyfriend and rekindled childhood friend, for fuck's sake.

Anyway, since the whole thing with Mammon, Fizzarolli had a bit of a thirst for more revenge gnawing at the back of his mind, thinking about all of his and Blitzø's shared enemies, and how much he'd like to see them bleed. Of course, when he told Blitzø about this vengeful fantasy of his, the other imp was more than enthused about getting some sweet, sweet payback. After all, Blitzø's company had been a bit short of the thrill of homicide lately, anyway.

So it was settled, the two imps would meet up at a bar and discuss the finer details.

-Lil’ time skip-

“Hmm…but which one do you think deserves to be hunted first? Striker, or Crimson?” Fizz asked, taking a sip from the straw in his glass of Beelzejuice. “Well, Crimson may be a bit off limits anyway, Mox probably wouldn't want his big daddy to get hurt unless it was by his doing.” Answered Blitzø, absentmindedly tracing one of his fingers along the cracks in the wooden bar counter top.

So that just left Striker…”But, that western cocksucker is most likely the only thing stopping Stella from killing Stolas herself. Plus, I promised Loony that I wouldn't kill anyone today because it’s her birthday.” He continued, going silent for a while, just in case Fizz was brainstorming and didn't want to be interrupted. And apparently, he was.

“..Wait, he's super self-confident. Which means, all we have to do is exploit a weakness that's embarrassing enough to catch him off guard, and threaten to blackmail him with it. Right?” It wasn't a terrible idea. But, what the hell kind of a weakness would have such an effect on a guy like Striker?

Contemplating his inquiry, Blitzø skimmed through his memories with Fizz, trying to pinpoint any specific events that involved embarrassing weaknesses that an imp would have..and wouldn't you know it, the murderous imp finally came up with a reasonable suggestion.

“Ey, Fizz, remember when we'd have those stupid dares where we'd take turns in watching each other perform, and then point out any flaws afterwards by..tickling the other person in a way that accommodates to those flaws?” Blitzø commented, smiling slightly at the fond memory, but a little flustered about the topic as he was usually the more flawed one when performing. Thankfully though, the other imp only really picked up on the main idea that he was putting down, a wry smirk now building up on his face at the thought of using this against Striker.

“It's perfect! We won't hurt Striker, but if we record him being humiliated like that, we could threaten him with the blackmail of posting the video!” Fizz replied cheerfully, slamming down a $10 bill on the counter before gripping Blitzø's arm and yanking him out of the bar. Fizz dragged him eagerly all the way down to the Wrath ring, ignoring the whiny protests that spewed from his friend's mouth like gunfire and instead focusing on tracking down Striker, while keeping his phone safe so that they can record the whole ordeal when it happens.

Sure enough, the two eventually stumbled into the weird cavern that Striker called his home, making sure to keep quiet as they leapt behind the nearest boulder. Breathing out groans of pain between whistling a casual tune, the cowboy in question was currently standing near the unrealistic statue of himself and cleaning up his burn wounds from when he tried (and failed) to kill Fizz.

“Hey, you think you can do that introduction thing that Robo Fizz did? It might be fun.” Blitzø whispered to his friend, who, in response, nodded and took a deep but silent breath.

“Hiya kids, it's me, the lovable Fizzarolli!” Fizz started, jumping up onto the boulder they were hiding behind and watching as his voice startled Striker a little.

“Say, would anyone here like to play a game with me?! It'll be so fun, I can guarantee it!” While the cowboy demon scowled and reached for his angelic gun, Blitzø shot a bullet of his own towards said gun, making it inaccessible as the two former clowns suddenly launched at him.

It took quite a hassle, but eventually they managed to pin Striker to the same part of the train tracks that Stolas had been restrained against a while ago. They then tied his arms down either side of his head with his own angelic rope, doing the same for his legs and tail. “You two fuckass clowns ain't gettin’ away with this. I will get my vengeance, just you little fellas wait..” Striker sneered, allowing a brief dark chuckle to sleep through his teeth afterwards. To which Fizz and Blitzø both looked at each other with unbothered expressions.

Setting up his phone on a nearby rock, Fizz pressed the ‘record’ button and began speaking like the whole thing was a vlog.

“Hey there, all you imps, sinners, overlords and deadly sins! Today, we have a very western guest with us. Say hi, Striker!” Fizz announced, moving out of the way so that the recording showed a clear view of the cowboy, bound helplessly to abandoned train tracks and frowning spitefully all the while.

“Go fuck yourself.” Was the only thing that Striker planned to say for most of this. Unfortunately, things never seem to go according to plan for him. “Only off camera. Now let's get down to business, shall we?” Blitzø responded, smiling along with the other clown imp.

“You're a selfish bitch that only cares about money. Understandable, however, fucking up my only ticket to the human world and then also trying to kill my friend, that's not as excusable. So, we're gonna return your ‘favour’ by humiliating you and then blackmailing you with the recording of it. Sound good? Good!”

Before Striker had gotten a chance to respond, Fizz had started talking again, reverting back to his show voice for this next part.

“Earlier I asked if you wanna play a game. And now, we're gonna play whether you like it or not! The game is called...’Don't Laugh’~!” Upon saying the name of the game, Fizz lifted his robot arms up to shoulder height and bent his fingers into claws, wiggling them simultaneously to give a hint as to what was about to happen, with a shit-eating grin on his face the whole time.

The cowboy tensed, it was subtle but it was noticed, now slightly struggling against his binds as the reality of this ‘game’ began to fully sink in. “Oh you gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me..” Striker murmured, feeling a few butterflies swarm in his stomach, something that had rarely ever occurred before. He despised the way the sensation affected him, making his body twitch in anticipation whenever someone made even the smallest movement, making him feel vulnerable, making him feel weak.

“Tch, and what kinda sick pleasure will it bring ya this time? Y'know, since everythin’ appears to be a sex thing with you two.” He remarked with a tiny smirk, clearly aiming to piss them off some more, despite his better judgment and the fact that it was just going to make everything worse for him.

Dammit, even those weird ass mini singing imps were here to watch.

His attention was yanked away, however, as Blitzø's hand then reached out towards him, and he tensed up once more, instinctively sucking his stomach in. But, the imp merely grabbed the cowboy's hat and placed it on his own head, earning a ‘seriously?’ look from both of the other demons, and an extra eye roll from Striker, who was getting fed up with this. But then Fizz's voice sounded out again, still speaking as if the whole thing was a scripted performance. “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, it's time for the game to start! Alright cowboy, are you ready?!”

“Listen, I don’ know what you jester twinks are plannin’ to accomplish with this, but I can assure ya, you ain’t gon’ pull a stunt like this again once I get my reve-HENGE!!” Striker's threat was abruptly cut off by the overwhelming sensation of a robotic hand squeezing his side experimentally, his voice raising up to a slightly embarrassing high pitched tone as this happened.

The cowboy attempted to recover by clearing his throat and forcing back the anticipatory nervous smile, refusing to let his captors feel like they were winning. Said captors, however, now adorned ear-splitting smirks that caused the butterflies in Striker's stomach to temporarily double, a few more harsh tugs being acted out on the angelic restraints. “I said ‘are you ready?’, not ‘bore us with monologue’. But still, at least people on Sinstagram will enjoy the bickering. But seriously, don't laugh!” Fizz replied smugly, refocusing his attention on the imp's outfit.

There were a few scorch marks on his shirt that didn't burn through the fabric, so of course, Fizz decided to fuck around a bit and trace ever so gently over those marks, relishing in the way it made Striker flinch and gasp quietly. Yet, his resolve held true, the scowl on the cowboy's face didn't budge, but not did the angelic rope, unfortunately for him.

“Alright it's my turn, move over bitch!” Blitzø demanded, playfully shoving his friend out of the way and cracking his knuckles, before starting to spider his fingers along Striker's sides. This time, it resulted in a wobbly grin showing through for just over a millisecond, the ticklish sensation making Striker wriggle away from the pursuing hands with a bit of desperation.

#sfw tickling community #helluva boss tickle #lee!striker #ler!fizzarolli #ler!blitzø #tickle fic #current wip

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duchess7878 · 5 months

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a part 2 has been requested for my cowboy!Johnny fic! I hope you like it :)

a/n: I love doing these requests, they give me inspiration to write because it makes me happy that y'all can get something from it <3

warning(s): rough sex, dub-con, kidnapping, degradation, slapping, knife-play, blood-play, choking, kicking, manipulating

part 2/2 of cowboy!Johnny short story (unless more is requested and the same goes for all of my stories, if you want more let me know <3)

18+ MDNI

My hand trembled as I read the note. He isn't really coming back is he? I stood for a moment as I tried to consider my options, but my mind was so clouded with fear I could barely conjure a coherent thought. If he came back, does that mean he would take me back to his gang? What would happen to me then? My eyes welled with tears as my heart clenched and my breathe I became heavy. The saloon was bustling as I quickly left the room and walked down the stairs of the saloon, almost tripping over my skirt. I left the saloon and stepped out onto the muddy road.

I didn't bother looking for a carriage because of what happened with the last one. So I began walking down the road and out of town, wanting to leave the area before Slaughter came back. The longing feeling I had when I woke this morning is now long gone, my mind made up that I didn't want this. He was a murderer, and a sadistic one at that.

The road was quiet and tense. I couldn't stop turning my head, just waiting for Slaughter to come out of nowhere and haul me off again. Anyone who knew anything knew that Johnny Slaughter of the Slaughter gang had the most uncanny ability to track in the world. The only thing that you had against it is to keep moving and that's exactly what I was doing. I didn't care where I ended up, just as long as he doesn't find me again. Who knows what he'll do if he comes back and realizes I didn't listen to him.

Johnny could feel the vein in his head throb upon returning to the Newt saloon and you were nowhere to be found. He had quickly searched the rest of the town and had turned up nothing. His instructions seemed so simple and clear, a child could understand. Now why did you have to up and run away? He laughed out loud to try and mask his irritation so the situation wouldn't bother him more than it already has. Johnny began to walk back to the room he had rented the night before knowing that he could pick up your trail there.

"Hey! You have ta-" The bartenders words were cut short as Johnny shot him a menacing look.

"Shut yer mouth. He said, not stopping and turning his head back towards the stairs.

Johnny wasn't going to let anyone or anything get in the way of his prized possession. It had been a while since he has been irked this badly and he would make sure you were punished for that. Upon reaching the room, your scent immediately filled his nostrils. It must be your favorite scent if you used it again this morning. He didn't want to go off of scent alone, as there were many smells in the wilderness and yours can get mixed up in them easily.

Johnny didn't need to search long before he found a solid footprint to utilize in his tracking. Your prints were so clear to him they almost glowed and he couldn’t be happier to be led to his treasure. He stood up straight and began following the prints out of the saloon, down the road, and out of town.

“I’m gonna find you. I will, I promise!” He said, whistling for his horse to come over.

I was growing tired from how long I had been walking. The sun now was setting, signaling I had been going from dawn ‘til dusk. I was sure I had put enough distance between Slaughter and I to take at least a small break, my feet and back were aching horribly. I turned off of the road and walked a little ways beyond the tree line, having a small plan that I would run deeper into the woods in the event that Slaughter did happen to find me. I decided to sit and rest along a tree, the bark digging uncomfortably into my back but it’s much preferred to being on my feet for a moment longer. I wasn’t even able to take in a deep breathe before I heard a twig snap and I was immediately tense again. I whipped my head around looking for anything that could’ve made that sound and I took in a huge sigh of relief upon seeing a doe in the distance. I started to relax and closed my eyes for just a moment.

“I wouldn’t get too comfortable just yet sweetheart.” A voice rang out right next to my ear.

I yelped and shot away from the voice, looking up to confirm my worst fear. How could he have already found me? I put so much distance between us.

“In yer fear, you seem to have forgotten somethin’ darlin’; I have a horse. It’s funny how being so afraid can make somethin’ so simple slip a persons mind.” A malicious smirk formed on his face.

I didn’t bother letting him continue what he was going to say, I turned and ran. My feet were pounding, but that didn’t compare to my heart at the moment. I couldn’t think of anything else but getting away from him, I was scared for my life. I didn’t want to be hurt or killed, I don’t want to be eaten either if the rumors of the gang are true. My footsteps were heavy as I ran through the thick foliage, the branches whipping me and breaking skin all over the surface of my arms and shins. My dress was getting torn with each second I ran through the woods.

“This is pointless ya know. Quit fightin’.” I heard his voice call from behind before I felt something squeeze around my midsection, clotheslining me and sending me flying backwards onto the ground. The wind was knocked out of me and my mouth fell open, desperate to take in a breathe. I heard the ground crunching beneath his boots as he walked up beside me. I looked up at him and he snarled down at me, his fury evident on his features.

Without a word, he kicked his foot hard into my ribs, reeling back and kicking harshly once again. I screamed out in pain, trying to move my arm to block the spot he was hurting but to no avail, the rope around me keeping me in place.

“I asked you to do one thing doll, it wasn’t that difficult was it? Or are you too stupid to understand simple instruction?” He asked. I wasn’t able to respond immediately due to the immense pressure on my chest from the kicking and the fall, I still could barely breathe at the moment.

“You must be since you won’t answer. Since yer so desperate to breathe, let me help you with that.” He snickered and lifted his foot, pressing it harshly on my neck. I went to throw my hands up to lessen the pressure, but ended up pulling my shoulders, quickly reminded that I was bound and completely at his mercy.

“Please..” I choked out, barely comprehensible.

“Please what darlin’?” He asked mockingly, pressing slightly harder.

“Stop, please!” I shrieked out with every bit I had, tearing my throat in the process from the force I needed to implement to produce a loud sound.

“Will you listen if I tell you to stay put in the future?” He questioned, very lightly lessening the pressure on my throat. I nodded vigorously.

“Forgive me, but I just don’t believe ya darlin’.” He sighed.

“Trust me, I want to. You hurt me back there, more than I’m hurting you now.” He took his foot off of my throat.

I was finally able to take in a breath, but a new pain immediately shot through me. Like I suspected, my throat is torn to all hell. I watched as he walked from my head down to feet, looking me dead in the eyes before lifting his boot again and slamming it down onto my ankle. A loud crunch echoed through the trees. I threw my head back and screamed despite my throat being torn. The pain was intense and I sobbed following the scream, not expecting the sudden bludgeon. Heavy, hot tears followed the sobs and that earned a coo from Johnny.

“Aw, did that hurt doll? Maybe you’ll remember this next time you don’t listen to me. This should also prevent you from tryin’ to leave again for a while and just to warn you, I will do this a many times as I need if you make me.” He threatened.

“I’m sorry Johnny, please stop this.” I cried.

“You ain’t sorry, not yet.” He growled, fastening the rope he’s been holding and started dragging me towards a nearby tree. Once there, he stood me up against it and used his lasso to tie me against the tree. My ankle ached horribly in this position, but I knew it would do me no good to tell him that.

I heard a familiar metallic sound as he pulled his knife from his sheathe and stalked up to me. He stepped up until we were chest to chest, he was craning his neck to look down at me and I could feel his warm breath on the top of my head. I refused to look up at him, but that didn’t sit long. He pressed the point of his knife to the bottom of my jaw, penetrating the skin as he forced me to look up at him. I felt the blood run down my neck as I looked into his dark eyes, now filled with lust alongside the rage.

“There ya go.” He praises, removing the knife from my neck and running the tip along his tongue. He groaned as the blood touched his taste buds, it being the most delicious thing he’s tasted in a while.

He then lifted his knife to the side of my neck and made a small cut, latching his lips onto it. He sucked the wound harshly and the blood along with it, but it wasn’t enough for him. Biting the wound, the blood was forced to flow more as he sucked every drop, a guttural groan sounding out when the coppery taste flooded his senses. Now afraid that he may actually eat a chunk of flesh from my neck, I began wiggling in the restraints, scrunching my neck to try and restrict his access. It worked, but he was not happy with it.

A heavy snarl formed on his lips as he lifted his hand, slapping me hard across the face. Before I could even react to the pain, another slap came to my other cheek and a small cut formed above my cheekbone, it bled heavily. A small cry came past my lips as the pain burned throughout my entire body.

“You better not stop me again, or you’ll regret it.” He growled harshly, grabbing my jaw and forcing me to look at him.

“Come on doll, can you be a good girl for the bad man? I promise to not hurt you again.” He asked mockingly, getting in my face and licking the blood from it with the tip of his tongue.

“Yes, I will.” I said quietly, choking down sobs.

“You will what? And speak up darlin’, I want to hear you loud and clear.” He said in a slow and mocking tone.

“I’ll be a good girl.” I cried louder, my voice breaking heavily from the abuse it suffered earlier.

“That’s better.” He praised. He took as step back from me and reached up to my chest, bunching it up as he did my undies last night and ripping it open, exposing my chest to the cold air of the night. My buds hardening immediately and he groaned lightly under his breath. Without letting go of his knife, he began unbuckling his belt with his off hand. He pulled it swiftly from his the loops in his jeans and flicked the end of the strap up into his hand along with the buckle so he had a small whip of sorts. My eyes widened, quickly understanding what it was for.

I watched his hand intently and he reached the belt up to my breast and lightly ran it over the mound before flicking it up and bringing it down on top of my tit, the whip sound bouncing between the trees. I felt my chest bounce at the smack and he looked extremely satisfied with his performance. Without another word, he began his work. He whipped his belt onto each breast, back and forth, about 15 smacks on each. When he was finished, my entire chest had gone numb and I couldn’t feel anything above my stomach. My face and chest both out of commission from his torture.

“I don’t think I can wait for that pussy anymore doll.” He said, reaching to his jeans and stroking himself through the thick fabric, his head slowly lolling back as he pleasured himself.

“Then get it over with.” I spat.

“Ah ah ah, you said you were gonna be a good girl for me.” He said, not bothering lifting his head to look at me.

“Please.” I said softly.

“That’s my girl.” He said, shoving his pants down to his knees and taking a couple of steps forward, stopping once our chests were pressed together. He reached down between us, lifted my legs up around his hips and took his cock into his hand. He began pressing his head into my folds, biting his lip in focus once the contact was made. I couldn’t help but blush at the clear desire on his face, and I wondered if looked like this with other women he fucked.

He was slow this time as he pushed his way in, much unlike last night.

“Are you still mad at me?” I asked, unable to understand his behavior.

“Oh darlin’, I can’t stay mad at you. I think you’ve got me wrapped around your little finger.” He whispered towards the end, bottoming out as he finished his sentence. He completely stilled as he made eye contact with me.

“How’s about you come live with me? You’ll be fed, protected, and fucked real good. How’s that sound doll? You just have to keep being my good girl.” He asked.

Knowing that my chances alone were dwindling with every passing day, I considered the opportunity. I wouldn’t have to worry about a place to stay or something to eat, on top of that I won’t have to constantly look over my shoulder everywhere I go. I nodded, understanding that it was my best option.

“Atta girl.” He said, pulling his hips back and thrusting harshly back into me. I let out a yelp at the sudden change, again, in behavior. He began to pound into me ruthlessly, our hips slapping together loudly, the sound making me more wet by the second.

“Damn, you feel so good.” He said, gripping my thighs and pulling me closer to him, my breasts pressing hard against his chest. He pulled back for a moment a ripped his shirt over his head, tossing it to the ground next to him.

“Wanna feel you.” He muttered, quickly pressing our chests back together as he pressed his lips to mine gently. His harsh thrusts didn’t let up and whimpers fell from my throat as the pleasure rose from his touch.

“Yeah, tell me how good I make you feel.” He growled, his lips not leaving mine.

“So good Johnny, better than I’ve ever felt.” I moaned against his plush lips, not wanting this to end.

“Damn right.” He said, hips thrusts becoming erratic as he threw his head back, groaning loudly.

“Gonna cum in you doll.” He moaned, locking his hips to mine as he came.

Breathing heavily, he kept himself inside me as he came back down to earth, titling his head forward and making eye contact. He leaned forward and pressed his head to mine, kissing me lightly on the lips one more time.

“I’m definitely keeping you. You’re stuck with me doll.”

Part 1 :)

#johnny slaughter #johnny slaughter x reader #johnny tcm #tcm #texas chainsaw game #texas chainsaw massacre #tcm game #18+ mdni #mdni #smut

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dcwildwestfest · 9 months

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Mod's "Most Wanted" - Destiel Western Recs

Howdy! Here are a few fic recs to get you in that Wild West spirit! 🤠

The Shawnee Trail | emmbrancsxx0 (@valleydean)

In 1887, Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak lead a peaceful life in Lawrence, Kansas. Dean and Sam are stagecoach messengers for Wells, Fargo and Castiel is the town doctor. When Castiel's patient, Kelly Kline, knocks on their door one night about to give birth, she asks for the Winchesters and Castiel's help in protecting her son against one of the west's most notorious outlaws. To fulfill that promise, the men set out on a journey full of shootouts, trouble with the law, gambling, and an important discovery: Dean and Castiel really need to define the nature of their relationship.

Hunter's Caress | Ltleflrt (@ltleflrt)

Castiel Jameson won't rest until the outlaw who murdered his brother faces justice, and Dean Winchester is the only man alive who can help him track the villain down. Some say Winchester is a cold-blooded killer himself; others say he'd been wronged his whole life. All Castiel knows is that the desire glinting in Dean's green eyes is even more dangerous than he is. Castiel fights to keep his mind on business, but during the long nights on the trail with the dangerously handsome hunter he finds himself dreaming of yielding to Dean's illicit kisses and losing himself in lawless passion. Dean Winchester is about to hang when Castiel saves his neck with his crazy plan. But dying might be better than spending day and night playing nursemaid to such an infuriating city slicker. He appreciates the stubborn detective's desire for justice, but he'd appreciate Cas a lot more if he'd stop being a lawman long enough to just be a man. He certainly has all the right equipment. Dean aches to run his fingers through Castiel's dark hair, yearns to know how Castiel's golden skin will feel against him. And before the coming of the next dawn, Dean vows to teach him the pleasures and sweet rewards of a Hunter's Caress.

Wheat Fields and Jars of Light | krisham, violue (@violue)

It's the mid-1880s. Grieving the loss of his twin brother, Castiel Novak is on a journey across Kansas to search for those responsible for his death. By horse, by carriage, by foot, he won't stop until he's hunted them down and gotten his revenge. What he finds, though, is that nothing in the world is quite what he thought it was.

Vagabonds | chevrolangels (@chevrolangels)

Dean is a sheriff in a tiny town in Colorado, restless and unsatisfied with his life. It's not like what he's read about in the dime novels since he was little, capturing dangerous outlaws and being the last word of the law. More like tossing the town drunk in a cell to sober up when they get a little too rowdy. But Dean's chance comes when a thief rolls through their town. He pursues the thief, which puts him right into the path of Emmanuel, a notorious outlaw. When he is captured by the outlaw and his gang to be held for ransom, Dean starts off on a journey he could have never envisioned, and learns that perhaps there's more to Emmanuel than meets the eye.

West (series) | Xela

Dean/Castiel set against the backdrop of the Wild West. In which Dean and Sam are Outlaw Hunters, and Castiel is a religious man.

4:08 to Tombstone | zuzeca (@lyresnake)

When minor outlaw Dean Winchester's beloved brother ended up on the wrong side of a robber baron with yellow eyes and a sadistic streak, Dean never expected to wind up in the Arizona Territory’s most notorious prison: The Pit. Nor did he expect, after years on the rack, to be sprung by former Federal Marshal and man of the cloth, Reverend Castiel Milton. Now, on the run from corrupt lawman Warden Alastair, the two men must learn to trust each other, or hang. When Castiel, lesser seraph of the Lord, descended into Hell to help rescue the Righteous Man, he never expected to be unwillingly cast in Dean Winchester’s repressed bisexual cowboy fantasy.

Sign-ups for the DeanCas Wild West Fest open September 6th!

Check out the official rules, guidelines, and schedule here!

#dwwf #deancas wild west fest #fic recs #destiel fanfic #deancas fanfic #western au

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cal-daisies-and-briars · 6 days

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WIP Wednesday

Thank you to @diazsdimples @tizniz and @kwills91 for the tag!

Here is a little snippet from the upcoming FINAL chapter of Cowboy With A One Track Mind - which I hope to get up soon!

---

He thinks of Eddie loving him. Thinks of Eddie inviting him into his world, his home, his life… Wanting to make this thing between them something they can keep. If only Evan could walk away from his deal. Hadn’t the terms been met?

Maybe us meeting was the summer solstice of my whole fucking life, and now every day we’re apart, the days are getting a little darker.

It’s the longest, brightest day of the year.

Right now, Evan can feel the sun on his cheeks. Right now, the whole of this mountainside is at his disposal; green trees and fresh air and clear, cool water for swimming.

But the days always get darker, the sun always slips away, and winter always finds its way back to him.

Only, for the first time, Evan thinks, maybe that’s his own damn fault.

---

No pressure tagging @pantsaretherealheroes @jeeyuns @aroeddiediaz @exhuastedpigeon

@steadfastsaturnsrings @your-catfish-friend @mangacat201 @daughterofscotland @madneywedding

@evanbegins @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @wildlife4life @buckleybabyblues @adarkermiserablecrow

@epicbuddieficrecs @fortheloveofbuddie @theotherbuckley @watchyourbuck @buddieswhvre

@l0v3t0hat3y0u @lyricfulloflight @bidisasterevankinard

#daisies and briars writes #cowboy with a one track mind fic #wip wednesday

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profoundbondfanfic · 8 months

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Heeeeey just wandering do you by any chance have like a western or cowboy au fic rec list??? If not that's okey but I mean I would appreciate

Hello and of course, here are a few we like!

Apple Pie Order by paceprompting [Explicit, 18k words]

Castiel Novak spends his life the same way, every day, as sheriff of a small town in the old west. Until, of course, a certain green-eyed criminal named Dean Winchester starts showing up in his life...over and over.

Church of the Country Wild by Amazonia_8 [Explicit, 52k words]

Sheriff Dean Winchester has been sent to Boston to collect the new preacher for his town of Lawrence. What he finds is a man nothing like what he expected and suddenly the long journey back to Kansas seems a lot more dangerous than he'd previously thought.

Hunter's Caress by Ltleflrt [Explicit, 161k words]

ride, cowboy, ride by UniversalSatan [Explicit, 12k words]

There's a stranger in town, and Castiel has the sense there's something dangerous about him — yet he's drawn to the man like a magnet, unable to resist his enticement.

The Shawnee Trail by emmbrancsxx0 [Explicit, 166k words]

Vagabonds by chevrolangels [Explicit, 89k words]

Whisper My Name by PetraAmia [Explicit, 29k words]

Castiel was an alpha with a few secrets up his sleeve, and had distanced himself from his family in New York City. Castiel was better off in the West than he was in the City, and they weren’t wrong. When Castiel first roamed he made a name for himself in the trick pony shows of the time and finally settled down in a small town called Angel, Wyoming. Here, he gave into some of his Alpha instincts by taking care of the townsfolk as sheriff, but that wasn’t to say that he was not a dutiful son. Twice his family back home had sent him an Omega to keep the families honor and both times, the Omega in question had not survived the sometimes harsh climate his new home provided. When a letter came from his eldest brother Michael to alert him to yet a third Omega coming to meet him from New York, he expected nothing but more of the same. He was totally unprepared for the Omega who came with his favorite brother Gabriel, and the new pup he was to take into his life. However, the events of the town have kept them apart, his duties to the town came before his new mate, and their relationship suffers. Can they recover, and be what they were always meant to be, or will they continue to dance around each other until they wither?

Wicked Game by expectingtofly [Explcit, 104k words]

The year is 1889 and for the past year and a half, Dean has traveled alone from town to town, drinking to ignore his guilt and gambling to make a living. Today, he’s especially down on his luck. He’s broke, was just thrown out of a saloon for cheating at poker, and has now been woken by a blue-eyed man trying to rob him. When he learns that the thief, Castiel, is just as broke as he is, they strike a tenuous deal to help each other rob a stagecoach, share the spoils, and split up. Turns out splitting up is the most difficult task. While Castiel is cold and cruel, Dean refuses to back down from a fight. The two are at odds more often than not, but their relationship only grows more complicated the longer they travel together. They may have more in common than they thought.

There's also this fic we've reviewed a while ago with cowboy!Dean, though he lives on a farm and it's set in the 90s instead of the old wild west:

spirit of the west by teendean [Mature, 141k words]

Dean grew up on a horse farm and can’t imagine any other life. There are drawbacks to working for his father, but they’re worth it if it means remaining with his beloved horses. Besides, between his broken arm and his lack of prospects, he hasn’t got much else. Something of an outsider, Dean always feels like there’s something he’s missing. But this tense summer brings back a figure from his past: years ago, a teenaged Cas worked for a season at the Winchester ranch. His return could change everything. If you ever wanted a 90s horse girl book, but starring a young Dean Winchester, this is your fic.

you can also check our western tag for more.

#asks #group rec #western

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katyawriteswhump · 4 months

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The power of love, part 5 (steddie, stobin, steve whump fic)

Steve has a habit of surviving near death experiences then getting sick for no reason. And Eddie and those fatal bat bites? After an impossible feat of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from Steve, he’s mysteriously fixed. So, Eddie’s back to being banished, this time with Steve and Robin in tow. Eddie’s healing, but Steve isn’t… and life gets even more confusing, when Eddie develops feelings for Steve, which aren’t entirely unrequited.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

Eddie POV

Robin spreads out a map they’d taken from the Harringtons across the blanket on Steve’s bed. She points to their current location.

“So, this is us. We’re away from the road but still waaay too screaming-in-your-face easy to find.” She slides her finger a few inches across the map. “This old loggers’ camp is deep in the forest and could be the perfect place to hide. However, it’s over seven miles and we might have to hike, if the track is broken up. Steve? What do you say?”

“What am I supposed to say, Robin?” Steve sits up against the pillows, arms folded. “Let’s get going.”

“It’s a loooong way for you, if we can’t drive, man,” says Eddie.

“I’m good. Jesus! Hiking is in her top ten least favourite pass times. Not mine.” Steve throws off the covers, pushes himself up. He repels Eddie’s attempt to help with a jab of his elbow then leans heavily on the wall. “When do we start?”

“Hold your horses, cowboy.” Eddie cranes over the map. “My beloved Pa had a few hideouts round this way—”

“Yeah, they must’ve been totally undiscoverable,” snarks Steve, “what with Al Munson being FOREVER IN JAIL.”

“If you’re feeling so much better, Dingus, THEN STOP BEING A BITCH.” That was Robin, now matching Steve’s glare. “Go on, Eddie. What’s your plan?”

They strike out for the logging camp that afternoon, planning to break their journey in a cave, which Eddie’s Pops had used a couple of times. They drive the first part of the trail, then set off on foot when the track gets too uneven for the Lincoln’s tyres. Most of the trail is uphill through forest. Steve, however, refuses any help, and insists on taking his share of supplies.

He says very little, walking close to Robin. She wavers between cajoling him into taking breaks, and an encouraging monologue. Eddie goes ahead, using a compass and some basic tracking skills Wayne taught him, while squinting at the hazy sun. And, obviously, he seeks the easiest path for Steve.

“You know I suck at directions, right?” he whispers to Robin, while Steve takes a ‘moment,’ sitting down. “Though I’m gonna blame Vecna—and the matter that Hawkins is now one big, fiery Upside Down doormat—for blowing the compass off.”

She bats a bug from her nose. “Ugh! If it’s any consolation, trail finding was never exactly my number one skill, either.”

“How about Captain America over there?”

“He literally never knows his left from his right.” Eddie’s rarely seen anything more loving than the look she casts Steve’s way. “I think it’s gotten harder for him. He’s had... uh, quite a few blows to the head in recent years. Never seen him like this before. I’m worried, Eddie.”

“Me too.” Eddie swipes hair from his brow, finding it slick with sweat. “Talking of Vecna-skewed compasses and Vecna in general. Should we also worry about his crazy-ass cravings for Lover’s Lake?”

“At this juncture, I’m hoping it’s all some kind of freaky coincidence.” She actually closes her eyes, as if offering up a silent prayer. “I mean, even when he’s outta his mind, Steve really, really loves swimming. On the other hand, if going near the lake actually made Steve better, and that’s why he healed so quick after his initial bat attack, then… then… Oh shit, I don’t even want to say it.”

Their gazes lock, and Eddie knows they’re brain sharing: There’s a gate to the Upside Down in Lover’s Lake. If Steve’s somehow linked to it some evil-magic-juju fashion, then…

“You don’t seriously think he’s flayed?” Eddie little more than mouths the words.

Robin slices up a forbidding hand, so fast Eddie fliches. “No. Not that. He can’t be. Vecna isn’t in his head—he’d tell us, right? I mean, there could be a more physical link to the Upside Down and the hive mind, like with Will at various stages, but… No, no, no. We’re catastrophising, huh?”

Eddie nods keenly, which does little to dispel his unease. On the other hand, Robin is right. Nothing about Steve’s behaviour is shouting “flayed” or whatever. Including the teeny, tiny matter of Steve bringing Eddie back from extinction, though that remains totally unexplained. Yeah, it could be simply because death happens differently in the Upside Down.

Steve hauls himself up, hugging a tree. “What we waiting for? Bears to come bite our sorry butts?”

“There are bears out here?” Robin squeaks.

“He’s kidding,” mutters Eddie. At least, Eddie hopes he is. Steve still looks dead grumpy and serious.

They make the caves by sunset. They’ve got flashlights, and Eddie and Robin could’ve pressed on through the night, but Steve blatantly can’t. As soon as they arrive, he slumps down against the rockface, curls his legs up. He presses his face to his knees and rocks himself gently.

“You sure you’re all right?” asks Eddie.

“Next person who asks me that gets punched.”

Ooookay. No change in Steve’s mood then. Robin reassures herself there are no bear scratches in the cave then heads out to scout the route for the next morning. Eddie starts unpacking the bedding and cereal.

The air in the cave is cool and thick with damp. Eddie kinda likes it anyhow. Amid the must and mould, he inhales the faintest hint of charcoal. He pictures his Pa shacked up here, also on the run. He can’t help chuckle: I tried soooo hard not to follow in your footsteps.

Steve, meanwhile, is huddling ever more tightly in on himself.

Eddie’s tempted to light a fire, as he imagines it gets cold in caves overnight, plus it’s still only April. However, he fears the smoke, if not the flames, could billow out of the narrow entrance and be spotted from miles around. Maybe that’s where you went wrong, Daddy dearest.

“You want a blanket?” ventures Eddie, sitting down next to Steve. Not quite touching, though. “Anything to eat? C’mon, dude. We all gotta keep our strength up.”

He taps the cereal packet against Steve’s arm, startling him into looking up. The torchlight heightens the shadows beneath Steve’s cheekbones, making him look horribly pale and gaunt. Kinda ghost-like, though Eddie stifles a gasp of shock for a different reason.

Steve Harrington is crying. Though trying his darndest not to—gritting his teeth, swiping the tell-tale moisture from his cheekbones. “God! I’m beyond pathetic. No wonder everyone thinks I’m a total dud.”

Cereal cast aside, Eddie squeezes Steve’s knee then retreats like the coward he is. “What are you on about? You’re, like, the most popular guy in town.”

Steve’s scowl is angry, incredulous and broken in equal measures. “Was, man. It was all a bunch of bull, and… totally irrelevant. I mean, haven’t you seen enough? We need to move, to keep moving, to evade capture, to get ready to fight Vecna again. I can barely walk.”

“Oookay, let’s rewind and be kind, Stevie.” He gets away with that sneaky pet-name again. “You’re feeling down because you’re… I dunno, sick, hurt, tired. Where do I begin? Fact is, you’re not a superhero man, you bleed and bruise like the rest of us lesser mortals… but you are a freakin’ hero.”

Steve’s brittle laugh breaks on a sob, against which he clamps his jaw even tighter. Eddie further musters his courage and slings an arm around Steve, who tenses. Then exhaustion wins. Steve sinks sideways against Eddie and rests his head on Eddie’s shoulder.

Soon, Steve’s shuddering breaths even out. The weirdest thing is that, despite how cranky Steve’s been all afternoon, this closeness feels disarmingly natural. That said, in the past forty-eight hours, they’ve had little choice but to become… intimate. Even Eddie's fizzing nerves soon settle.

“One thing’s for sure,” says Eddie, at length. “I’m more jealous than ever. I mean, Henderson’s respect for you must’ve skyrocketed and it was excruciatingly stratospheric already. I’m just the goon you brought back from the dead.”

Steve sniffles, lifts his head from Eddie’s shoulder. “I didn’t do anything really, man. Basic CPR. I executed a move.”

“Yeeeah.” A silly grin tugs the edges of Eddie’s mouth. “With your lips, dude.”

Steve smirks, and… Woah! Eddie spots something he’d wondered if he’d imagined several times. Including earlier, when Steve collapsed against him on the way back from the outhouse.

That merest hint of… attraction? Of flirty fun?

Just as Eddie decides he’s imagining it—again—that spark reaches Steve’s too-pretty, too-sad eyes, and he says:

“That was kinda fresh of me.”

Eddie’s tongue flaps away before he can stop it: “Tell you one other thing for sure—if you'd asked permission to get all smoochey, for whatever reason, I'd have granted you a full-access backstage pass.” Then Eddie’s brain kicks in. “Aaaaaand, that was dumb. What with you being the straightest guy in the history of ever.”

Steve’s sparkle vanishes, and he turns his face to the darkness. “Go to Hell! Why does everyone always make such massive assumptions about me?”

“You’re not straight? I mean, I assumed… You’re you. You’ve got girlie mag centerfolds in your room!”

“You’re judging me on that?” Steve ruffles his hair and groans, sounding more wearily upset than agitated. “Look, man, I’ve not changed my room since sophomore year. In case you’re missing any of the plot, I’ve had other crap going on.”

“Yeah, but you and Wheeler! The way you look at her, and the way she looks at—”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Steve sinks his forehead to his knees again. Nevertheless, Eddie’s arm is still around him, and he’s not shrugged it off. What’s more, it seems he does want to talk, even if it’s rambling and kinda hard to follow:

“I've been through stuff like this before, Eddie. Getting hurt and shit, hit so hard I black out and the doctors give me all these scary warnings. It’s weird, whenever I wake after being hurt, it feels as if loads of time has passed, even if it’s only been a few minutes. I always feel… shitty, of course, but also… a bit different. It’s confusing… Probably bullshit. It’s all bullshit.”

Different.

Eddie’s heart gives a little squeeze, which he kinda despairs of. Not before he’s given Steve a small squeeze, too. “What kind of different?”

“I dunno. Like.... this time around, I'm not so into Nance. Or maybe feeling so crappy this past day has given even my thick head perspective, and I can see it’s hopeless. I mean, I figured I was in love with Robin once, when I “came back” from being knocked out, and, of course, I do love her but... not like that. She gets me… better than I do, I guess. Talk to her if you want anything about me to make sense.” He yawns. “I’m soooo tired, man.”

Soon, Steve’s sunk so deep against Eddie, his head is in Eddie’s lap. Eddie drags a blanket up over Steve, then finds himself tentatively stroking Steve’s hair. He’s unsure if Steve is asleep or not. Either way, Steve sighs, kinda melts beneath his touch. Wherever he’s drifted off to, it seems peaceful.

Eddie tries and fails not to think on how trippy this is: I got Steve ‘King of Hawkins High’ Harrington asleep in my lap, and he just snapped at me for suggesting he was straight.

He also tries and fails not to worry about the whole Lover’s-Lake-giving-Steve-weird-juju issue. Steve just straight-up told him he’s been through near-death experiences before and come back different. Yeah, Eddie’s cheerleading for the GOOD variety of different. However, in Hawkins, and in life in general:

Odds are stacked in the favour of BAD different, Munson. As in FLAYED different.

No. He’s not going down that path. Robin would notice anything weird about Steve, and Steve’s not acting strange. He’s just… strangely sick, though it’s not that odd, really, after all he’s been through.

Yeah, right. And My Little Pony seahorses are gonna surf in on a tsunami of petals and save the day.

Man, it sucks being such a cynic.

He doesn’t notice Robin slip back in until she’s nearly upon them. “You two got cosy, then,” she whispers.

“I got a creeping suspicion he’s gonna break my neck in the morning for this.”

She wiggles her brows. “Oh, I dunno. His bark is totally worse than his bite.”

“I can hear you, asshats,” mumbles Steve. Robin’s brows shoot sky high. “I don’t want to be sleeping on his bony knees, but some moron forgot to bring pillows.”

Eddie strokes Steve’s hair into that warm groove behind his ear, and finally discovers he’s too tired to worry about anything much at all.

Part Six

...

(also on AO3 here and as part of my steve whump fic series)

tags: @estrellami-1 (thank you, thank you, thank you!) If anybody else would like to be tagged on this fic or any of my writing, please let me know :) Reblogs, comments and likes also very much appreciated :) Thank you for reading so far.

#steddie #steve harrington whump #steddie fic #steve x eddie #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington x eddie munson #platonic stobin #stobin #stranger things fanfic #steve and robin #steve harrington hc #steve harrington hurt/comfort

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navybrat817 · 1 year

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Picture Perfect

Pairing: Motocross!Hal Carter x Female Reader Summary: Your mind drifts as you wait for Hal to show up. Word Count: Almost 1.1k Warnings: Dirty thoughts, light sexual fantasies, reader being a tad shy doesn't stop the mind from wandering, motocross!Hal Carter (he's a warning, okay?) A/N: Seventh day of my Naughty & Nice Nonsense belongs to Cowboy and Belle! "Dirty Thoughts" by Chloe Adams inspired this. I can't wait to share more of this couple. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Banner and moodboard by yours truly. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Growing up, your mother pushed you to be front and center. She was the reason you auditioned for choir and musicals, even when you told her how nervous performing in front of others made you. You lost count of how many times you almost fainted from nerves. You had talent, but the stage wasn’t for you.

You preferred the quiety beauty of the world around you, which is how you found yourself with a camera in hand. The photos you took were your way of expressing yourself. Your mom has a hard time accepting that you’d rather be in the background instead of the spotlight.

“Still too shy for your own good. After all these years,” your mom told you one day. “Maybe if you put yourself out there, you wouldn’t be single.”

“Or maybe I just haven’t met the right guy,” you argued.

Being a photographer exposed you to a variety of good looking men. Because you took your job seriously, you made it a rule a long time ago to never fall for any clients. Not that a couple didn’t try to flirt. The very few times it happened, you politely diverted their attention back to the task at hand. You wondered if they seemed interested because you didn’t throw yourselves at them.

You thought of some of the girls at the tracks and how open and outgoing they were. You admired that, but that wasn’t who you were. There was nothing wrong with you being a little more reserved.

The right one will see me and appreciate me just as I am.

Maybe someone like Hal Carter.

You may have done a bit of research on him after the race. The videos of his tricks online made you gasp more than once. The man made a name for himself through hard work and grit, but had a good time. It was admirable. The southern charm on top of that, it was easy to see why people called him Cowboy.

While you didn’t belong in the spotlight, he was made for it.

You slightly adjusted the chairs by the viewing table, trying to keep your hands busy. Hal was coming in to view the photos and you had already done two walkthroughs to make sure the studio looked pristine. It surprised you when he made the appointment, half expecting him to want the photos emailed to him.

“Then I wouldn’t get a chance to see your beautiful face, Belle.”

You had no reason to be nervous, but you couldn’t sit still as you made sure the pictures were ready.

One of the best pictures you took was after Hal removed his helmet and waved to the crowd. A wide grin on his handsome face,the messy hair added to his allure. You had no doubt he had the attention of everyone there. Your favorite shot of him was actually the one you took right after. His smile wasn’t as large as the previous, but it somehow looked more genuine.

You didn’t realize until after you developed the photo that he looked right at you as you snapped the frame.

You found yourself staring into his blue eyes before you reminded yourself that it was just a picture.

The seductive gazes aimed your way were never truly for you to begin with. They belonged to your camera. You were simply the vessel who captured the looks for everyone else to see.

Considering Hal likely didn’t even see you until after the race, the look didn’t mean anything.

“Maybe in my dreams,” you muttered before you double checked the time and smiled a little.

Since I can’t hold still, I can blow off some steam.

You still got nervous when you sang in front of a large group of people, but you enjoyed doing it on your own. Maybe you’d even sing to the guy you fell in love with. Pulling up your playlist, you pressed “random” and turned up the volume.

“I get dirty thoughts about you…”

You had to smile, unable to sing the first few lyrics as your cheeks got hot. That would be the song that popped up with Hal stopping by.

“When I’m lonely. All the corners of my mind start racing. Things that should be kept in the basement. Spend my time trying to erase them.”

You’d be lying to yourself if you said you hadn’t thought about his body. The man went straight over to you without his shirt on just to introduce himself. It was only natural that the image of him would pop up later to distract you.

“But when you hold me in the fantasy it’s so convincing.”

At some point, you closed your eyes and began to sway to the beat. Hal was virtually a stranger, but you had a feeling he was an amazing dancer. He’d hold you close and let you feel exactly what you do to him.

“I shouldn’t think the things I’m thinking, but now I’ve gone and let them sink in.”

You couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like to kiss him. Would he flash a smile or lick his lips before he closed the gap between the two of you? Maybe he’d slowly coax your tongue into his mouth to massage it with his own. What would it be like to break your own rule and take a chance on a client?

“The more that I push ‘em away the more that you’re stuck in my brain. The more I mentally undress. I confess.”

You wondered how rough Hal’s hands would feel against your skin. Would he be gentle and take his time with you? Or would he pin you down with his strength, careful not to hurt you even if he went feral? Being shy didn’t mean you didn’t want or crave.

You were just quieter about it.

“I get dirty thoughts about you. They get worse when I’m without you. Does that mean that I’m going to hell? Or are you thinking them as well?”

Are you thinking of me, Hal?

You didn’t realize how fast your heart was racing until you checked the time again. You immediately stopped dancing and singing so you could shut the music off. Hal would be there any minute and getting yourself worked up would do you no good, as well as looking unprofessional if he caught you.

You’d tuck those thoughts away for another day.

And if Hal happened to get a glimpse at your performance through the door, it would be his secret for the time being.

I wonder how long Hal will keep that to himself. Hehe. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Hal Carter Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #navy's naughty & nice nonsense #hal carter x reader #hal carter x female reader #hal carter x you #hal carter x y/n #motocross!hal carter x reader #cowboy and belle #hal carter #motocross!hal carter #hal carter fanfiction #hal carter imagine #hal carter au #motocross au #dialed in: motocross au #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan

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zzoguri · 4 months

Text

safe haven (how much longer do we have?) ➵ jacob bae

jacob bae x reader, slight lee hyunjae x reader

you can only hope for more tomorrows with jacob.

genre/warnings ➵ strangers to lovers, heavy angst with a happy ending, touch of fluff, afab reader (no-gendered terms), lowercase intended, apocalypse au, hurt/comfort (both physical and emotional), depictions of grief, descriptions of gore/blood, use of guns, allusions and discussions of suicide, minor character deaths, hyunjae is your ex, changmin and kevin appearance :'), elements of the last of us (don't support neil druckmann!), mostly written in past tense (because u're remembering!)

word count ➵ 6.2k words

inspired by ➵ “anaheim” by niki, “are you happy?” by @wavesmp3, “love wins all” by iu, episode three of hbo's the last of us, and “you’re gonna carry that weight” quote from cowboy bebop

a/n ➵ my life changed forever reading shawna's piece. thank you for letting me write a piece based on your work (if you haven't read it, go check it out!) just like you, i am a sucker for apocalypse aus :')) hope i did justice to your beautiful work. anyway, love wins all coming out yesterday was a miracle because it's definitely made for this fic </3 thank you to @heemingyu and @deobienthusiast for betareading a bit of this! if you enjoyed reading, please do reblog and leave feedback!

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! masterlist

time was the one thing that occupied everyone’s minds. it held value, something that shouldn’t be wasted, and people revolved their lives around it.

now, only one question echoes within their minds: how long do we have?

the outbreak hit two years ago on the day of hyunjae’s graduation. cheers turned into screams. white togas and diplomas were splattered with red. the lively became lifeless.

you remember hyunjae’s hand in yours, fingers gripping you as if you were his life, as you charged out of the gymnasium, legs keeping up with the speed of his. you darted off to nowhere as images of the infected tearing people apart took up every block, all the way from skin to bone.

and while it was a rush of tragedies, hyunjae was the only hope you had.

“keep your eyes on me,” he glanced at you, eyes off the path as he met your gaze. “don’t look at them. only look at me.”

it was impossible to ignore the wails that filled your ears, but you would repeat his words—his soft-spoken voice—to drown them out.

by nightfall, you and hyunjae found yourselves in a motel room, skin cleaned from blood splatters and dressed in clothes that engulfed your figures, and in each other’s arms on a twin-sized bed. the duvet that wrapped around you two is thin, not at all keeping you warm for the night, but the warmth of hyunjae was enough to provide you a sense of security—stability amidst the ever-changing world.

he whispered into the crown of your head, words meant to dispel your fears, all while you sobbed into his shirt. there was nothing that he could do but stay strong for you.

and for a few days, that room acted as your safe haven. the time spent within those four walls is the life you imagined your future with hyunjae. it would’ve been in a two-story house with a garden where a singular orange tree stands, lounging on the couch as you played movies to fall asleep to, but all you had was an old room with a carpeted floor with unrecognizable stains and a bathroom unable to fit two.

yet, you would choose this over anything. even if it meant eating instant noodles for every meal or sleeping on a mattress that ruins your backs, you would choose this if it meant hyunjae would be with you.

still, time continues to move. hyunjae knew that you both couldn’t stay in that room or else the infected may reach you. so when you both went to bed on that last night, you outlined his features from the space between his eyebrows all the way to his lips, and you spent that time memorizing his warmth to carry with you for the rest of your life. you could only hope that he stays with you until the end.

after a month passed, you and hyunjae met changmin, an injured boy who only wanted to live. at first, hyunjae was hesitant to take the stranger in, but you wouldn’t allow yourself to live with the idea of abandoning someone in need. in a world where the infected have taken over, it only seemed right to help out others, save them from a fate they’re not ready to meet.

what started off as a pair turned into a trio. you’ve learned more about what it takes to survive in this life. long gone is the need for money to buy necessities; you need to scavenge if you want to live in an infected-ridden world. thanks to changmin, you and hyunjae got to learn about how to find supplies in every building that you pass on the journey.

but it’s not enough to know where to find food and bullets. hyunjae decided that it was only right to teach you how to use a gun. with every morning that came, you two spent hours learning how to hold, reload, and fire.

six months have passed, and you were happy that you were still a trio. changmin became your best friend over that time. his laughs were enough to shine glimmers of hope onto you. you were glad that you decided to help him off the ground and tend his bullet wound that day.

until you found yourselves retreating from the horde of infected.

time moves at a constant speed but it can become swift if it decides to. when you and changmin reached the doors leading to safety, you remember seeing hyunjae fighting off those who were once like you, bullets firing at their heads. you remember your screams, telling him to run to you—go to where it’s safe—so that you can keep having tomorrows with him.

yet, hyunjae glanced at changmin, nodding at him before his eyes met yours. you watched how his mouth moves, a soundless three-word phrase leaving him before the doors shut before you. you would’ve pried them open but changmin kept his arms around you, holding you back from letting the infected reach you, from letting hyunjae come back to you.

the wails that left you are enough to attract the infected. if only the infected were to burst through the doors, grab onto you and bring you to hyunjae, then maybe you would stop crying. yet, changmin dragged you away. you never saw him as your best friend after that.

the two of you learned to live in silence, fighting for survival while dealing with the loss of the one who would always bring you both to safety.

until you came across another boy who pointed his gun toward you. his defensive demeanor reminded you of hyunjae, and you wondered if this was his doing—his reincarnation. but before he could pull the trigger, changmin saved you from meeting your fate.

somehow, the duo had turned into a trio once more. you still refused to talk to changmin, but would eavesdrop on the conversations he shared with the stranger. you learned that the new addition is named jacob.

but even the stranger wasn’t enough to fill the void that hyunjae left. with every nightfall, when the soft snores of the two boys filled your ears, tears streamed down your face as sobs threatened to spill out of your mouth. the palm of your hand wasn’t enough to muffle your weeps. behind your eyelids, hyunjae’s last words to you play on repeat—the ones he failed to say, the ones you’ll never hear again.

“changmin, you have to stay with me.” those were the first words you told him since hyunjae’s death. crimson continued to spill out of his abdomen through the gaps between your fingertips in the same way tears flow out. “jacob! find gauze, betadine, anything!” you never glanced at the stranger, keeping your gaze on your best friend whose eyes continued to droop.

still, changmin caressed your face, thumb wiping teardrops. as he slowly entered territories that you both knew he would never escape, he grinned at you one last time. “i missed hearing you. i’m glad you’ll be the last thing i hear.”

but time continues to move. it took him away from you in a matter of minutes, slithering away without a second thought and no regard for the value of life, and all you were left with was his temple—still, lifeless. as you sobbed into his shirt, still holding the wound, the warmth of jacob’s hand stayed on your back, moving along with your wails.

now, you carry the loss of two. it never got easier with time.

jacob still sticks with you. it only seemed right. stay strong in numbers as you wander off to nowhere, grasping at the loose ends of survival.

two weeks have passed. you and jacob got used to the new dynamic; while he goes hunting and you’re tasked with scavenging, you both played your roles in combat, ready for any raid or horde. when night would come, you both took shifts, keeping watch while the other got some shut-eye.

until that one evening.

you recall the sounds of wood crackling from the fire. it stood strong against the breeze—burning, shining—surrounded by greens that latch on browns. hues of amber cascaded over your skin, painting you with warmth—it’ll never compare to the one you craved. your eyes drifted to jacob who sat across from you, his eyes trained on the fire as he rubbed his palms together. perhaps he craved the same type of warmth you longed for.

“we used to be three.” his eyes snapped towards yours. “before you came, we used to be three—changmin, me, and—” it rose in you like bile, wanting to escape but never leaving. “we were three then.”

you glanced at the fire that continued to burn. “we met changmin a month after the outbreak, spent six months together until—” the claws of the void struck against your throat, holding you back from sharing with the stranger what your life was before he came. while you never found the right words to say, jacob never pushed, letting you say what you wanted to share while filling in the blanks on his own.

“i resented changmin after what happened.” you moved your gaze to jacob whose eyes never left you. “refused to talk to him. refused to forgive.” and you remember how you hesitated, taking a deep breath in before sputtering out the next sentence. “refused to accept.”

nine months ago, the outbreak didn’t happen. nine months ago, you were attending hyunjae’s graduation. nine months ago, you two were imagining your tomorrows—together, for eternity.

and those nine months fractured all hopes and dreams; the glass is now littered with cracks, ready to burst into shards.

“but i think about the last time we saw changmin,” the image of him sitting in front of you all frail, treading the line between life and death, flashed in front of you; it’s quick but strong to remind you of what’s lost. “and i wish i could’ve learned how to forgive during those two months.”

and still, you did.

you left it at that. they were enough. so when you told jacob that you’ll take over tonight’s shift, he never asked to hear more. instead, he laid near the campfire as you keep an eye out.

and once enough hours have passed, you allowed yourself to sob like other nights. the breeze that passed through branches reminded you of changmin; rustling leaves imitated the giggles of the boy you’ve only known during the apocalypse.

the heat was enough to last you the night, but the chill of reality sent you back to the void.

that night, jacob listened to your sobs. not one of you got enough rest for the journey.

another two weeks went by. you two got into a better groove of the routine; instead of hunting and scavenging in silence, you and jacob found yourselves talking more about your lives before the outbreak. you learned that he was born the same year as hyunjae, and he shared that he had plans to pursue music.

still, jacob promised you that.

“where were you?” his eyes met yours. “on the day of the outbreak, i mean.”

he leaned back, hands resting on the mattress before he looked once more at the wax that continued to melt. “it was my graduation.” it hit you like a sudden downpour on a sunny day. “i was next in line to go up on the stage until the infected came.”

and when you said the name of the university, his gaze met yours as his shoulders stiffened. “m—my hyunjae.” it’s the first time you spoke of his name, and the sight of jacob’s eyes widening over it was enough to speak for himself.

“i—i didn’t know,” he whispered, but his words were loud enough to shatter glass. “i only spoke to him a few times. he spoke of you with so much love.”

your heart skipped beats; it should’ve been enough to send you off into the same territories where hyunjae and changmin now stay. your mouth turned dry as jacob’s voice morphed into radio silence.

yet, you were stuck in the same gymnasium, fixing hyunjae’s toga as you scolded him about how wrinkled it’s become—hey! you’ll go up on stage soon. we can’t take pictures of you like this. despite your words, he smiled at you before grazing his lips on your temple—his silent way of telling you the three-word phrase.

in a split second, you were off the couch. you barged out of the house, clutching your chest as the knot constricted your throat, and your feet dragged you off to nowhere. every sound has turned into a buzz—only the voice of hyunjae being the one clear thing amidst the hysteria.

all it takes is one step, and—

your hands trembled; you’ve carried the weight of it all for too long.

in that split second, your nose met the juncture between his chin and shoulder. the material of his shirt against your cheek allowed you to bathe in what you miss—the hand of changmin that once caressed your face, the lips of hyunjae that lingered with every kiss. all the moments that you hoped time would freeze just for you lives in the boy you stick with for survival.

all it took were jacob’s hands to rest on the lower side of your back for the tears to begin their stream. the sobs spill out. for once, they weren’t muffled like those other nights. they sounded throughout the space that surrounded you two. you allowed yourself to drop the baggage only for a few minutes.

jacob took you back to the house that night, allowing you to sob about all that you’ve kept under the wraps. when sunrise came, you found your legs mixed with his as his arms remained wrapped around you, and your ear pressed against his chest. the sound of his breathing is the one reminder of what a safe haven is.

half a year went by. jacob still stays by your side. the baggage got lighter.

it should’ve been the same routine; jacob goes off to hunt while you scavenge, and you’ll take turns on the night shifts. but that night shifted something between you two—stolen glances, quiet giggles, linked fingers.

two months have gone by. the moon shined through the trees, their shadows cascading on an abandoned cabin that you and jacob decided to stay in for that night.

it should’ve been the same set-up as other nights spent in abandoned houses; you’ll sleep on the couch while he sleeps on a dragged-out mattress. instead, he sat with you on the couch, your back resting on his chest along with his hand staying on your arm.

a lit candle rested on the table; its amber tones painted the jacob’s skin—close to the fruit tree that stands in your lost future.

“what would you do if there is a cure to this?” you watched how his fingers danced across your skin, calloused from plucking guitar strings or wielding a gun.

jacob’s chest rumbled against your back as he hummed. “what would you do?”

a giggle left you as you looked at the boy. “i was the one who asked you first!”

“travel, maybe? or i’ll go back to writing music.” you nodded at his plans before looking back at the light source. “what about you?”

“i don’t know.”

so…

“i would settle down if i could.” the wax continued to melt. “i think i’ve seen enough of the world. for once, i just want to stay home, indulge in my hobbies, live the life that i want.”

the words get caught in your throat. your heartbeat rang in your ears. for the first time since hyunjae’s death, you considered it.

“with someone.”

before you knew it, his hand caressed your cheek. you were forced to meet his eyes—they glistened with devotion. he leaned forward, his breath grazing your skin while you held in yours. you didn’t miss how his gaze flickered to your lips before he met your eyes once more.

then, he held back. it’s a choice, one only you can make. but when your eyes shut, it’s a quiet plea—a silent yes.

his lips met yours.

it’s a perpetual cycle of fighting for survival. you’ll endure through it all.

a month passed by, and you came across another boy on the journey. he’s named kevin, and he told you of a safe haven located in the town that you and jacob grew up in.

for a moment, it was an internal debate—should you go back to where the downfall started? can you go to where the memory of hyunjae still lives?

but one glance at jacob was enough to settle it. the three of you embarked on your journey.

you remember that day. it was a walk with the goal of finding a car to make the journey back an easy one. the heat of the sun prickled against your skin, but you still kept your arms crossed.

“are you two together?” kevin asked, causing you to whip your head towards him. your eyes met jacob’s for a split second—confusion, dejection—before they landed back at the stranger who kept his eyes on the path you took.

“no, we aren’t.”

for the rest of the journey, it was quiet.

sundown came, and you found yourselves in a convenience store for that night’s shelter. jacob was in charge of taking the night shift, allowing you and kevin to rest up. when the stranger went off to sleep on the makeshift bed, you were left alone with jacob.

you watched how he cleaned his gun with a rag stained with dark splotches. the moon gleamed through the window—it cannot compare to how jacob shines.

you needed to get some sleep is what you tell yourself. with one spin, you were about to make your way to where you’d sleep for that night.

“are we really not?” you halted in your tracks. you couldn’t look at him. “did it mean nothing?”

not a single answer left your mouth. your eyes remained straightforward, refusing to meet his gaze.

the warmth vanished with a lack of an answer. instead, it was replaced once more with the cold—the void—that attempted to consume you whole.

and when a scornful chuckle left jacob, you knew that you’d burnt the bridge. you walked away, leaving him to do his job, bidding farewell to the closest form of a safe haven.

two weeks went by, and another goodbye had to be done. kevin stood in front of you two, a grin on his lips while tears streamed down his face. his arm was out, revealing a bite mark. the veins near the wound had already turned black. he would’ve turned in a few hours.

“go out.” those were jacob’s first words to you since that night in the convenience store.

you remember the last thing you told kevin before you left the room—you’ll get to your safe haven. the sobs that spilled out of him are ones you’ll never forget. and when you shut the door behind you, it took 20 seconds until you heard a gunshot.

the weight got heavier once more.

another two weeks went by, and you and jacob found yourselves standing in front of the remains of a safe haven. the fences were torn down. streaks of dark red littered over pavements. not a single sight of a soul lived.

still, you two trudged your way through the town, all the way until you reached jacob’s house. like others, his was abandoned. the cream walls were littered with red strokes and vines. when you both entered, you didn’t miss how jacob’s eyes lingered on a photo hung on the wall—a picture of him, his brother, and his parents.

but amidst the crowd of old, torn-down, plastic fruits, a pear and an orange leaned against each other as grime collected on them. once your hands reached out to the fruits, you pulled them apart—a mess of green and orange stained the two.

he came back to you in 30 minutes, eyes glistening with tears. yet, he only gave you a nod, and you two went to another house.

you then stood in front of your old house with jacob by your side. weeds grew in the front yard, and the wooden exterior has turned a few shades darker. silence settled between you two.

when you approached the picture frames found on your table, your hand darted out to a photograph of you and hyunjae. there was no occasion when that picture was taken—the fact that you two were together was enough for it to be remembered. memorialized.

as you made your way back down the stairs, you saw jacob crouched in front of the console table with eyes. trained on photographs. “was this your high school graduation?” you approached him and saw the picture he was referring to, you who stood beside hyunjae with a big grin as his lips were on your temple.

“yeah,” you said as you crouched beside jacob. “we knew each other back when i was a freshman.” your fingers trailed on the wooden frame, gathering the dust before flicking it away. despite your efforts, it was still covered in grime, but you didn’t mind.

“and you stayed together since?” all you did was hum. “did you find anything up there?”

for the first time since you entered your old house, you looked at jacob and he met your gaze. your eyes trailed his features. the eyes that speak of a thousand words. the lips that once kissed yours.

and it hit you like the gunshot that filled your ears, the breeze that rustled the leaves that one night, the doors that shut close. it was 20 months since the outbreak happened, 13 months since you lost hyunjae, and 11 months since changmin told you his last words—but it was also 13 months spent with jacob, choosing to survive with him.

“yeah.”

you found a lot of things within those four walls. there were books you once read growing up, stuffed toys you slept with, and the one picture of you and hyunjae; they’re the remaining pieces you have left of a life that was good.

you would’ve kept it all, rebuilt the life that was ripped away by the hands of the infected—

“but nothing to hold on to.”

they’re memories, ones you’ll carry with you, but ones worth moving on from.

“oh,” he said as his eyes still held your gaze. “okay.”

and with one exhale, you said, “let’s rebuild it, just a place for us two.”

it was a whirlwind of emotions in jacob’s eyes, ones you can’t identify. for a moment, you thought he’d say no. maybe he decided that 13 months was enough. one more day with you would be too much, and—

“okay.” when his hand reached out for yours, linking fingers with you like all other times, you gave him a small smile.

when you and jacob stood up, you made your way out of the house, off to find a place just for you two—a safe haven to last you many tomorrows with him.

but while you were okay with a knife, accidents did happen. “fuck!”

“what happened?” you remember how jacob came rushing in, only to see you pressing on the skin around the cut on your finger.

before you knew it, you were sitting down with him as he wrapped gauze around the wound. “jacob, it’s just a cut. i’ll be fine.”

“still, i don’t want you getting hurt.” you watched how his eyes were focused on treating your finger. “i’ll be in charge of cooking now.”

once he was done, his hand continued to hold yours. you remember the heat of his thumb as it drew patterns on your hand. he’s etched himself onto you.

his eyes met yours once more, and he said, “okay, just let me help out.” all you gave him was a nod.

when you exited the house, you saw jacob holding his gun, firing at the people who attempted to tear down the haven’s fences. “jacob!” when he looked back at you, you caught sight of the crimson that poured out of his abdomen.

another gunshot was fired, grazing jacob’s leg, and he fell to his knees. you ran to him, reaching out to rest your hand on the wound as you began to sob. “fuck! you have to stay with me.” with his arm resting around your shoulders, you dragged him back to the house.

you got to work, focused on trying to patch him up—making sure he stays. “you can’t go. i won’t let it happen.” and while your hands busied themselves with treating the injury, you remember how jacob’s hand caressed your cheek, thumb wiping away the spilled tears.

“in the basement, there’s a piece of paper that has all the codes. if you ever—”

“no, you’ll be okay.”

still, he continued to talk. “if you ever forget the codes, you can always look at the paper. don’t forget that you need to always check the water system every two days, and—”

“jacob!” you croaked out his name in between sobs. “you’ll be okay. you have to, okay?” the more he went on about what to keep in mind, the baggage got heavier. “i can’t do this without you. i won’t allow it.”

and when you leaned your forehead on his, eyes closed, you felt his breath graze against your lips. “i need you.”

all it took were three words from you. “okay.”

it’s been two months since that happened. the safe haven was rebuilt once more. you and jacob fortified the defense system, hoping they’ll be enough to keep any infected and raiders out. all that matters is that you two were protected—safe—from the chaos.

you were ready to get yourself sucked into the world of the novel, but jacob came into the living room with his hands behind his back and a small smile on his lips. “do you remember what you made me promise you before?”

you frown at him, confused, until he shows you an acoustic guitar. “oh my god, you found one?” you put the book on the coffee table.

he takes a seat beside you, body facing towards you as he rests the instrument on his lap. “here, first-row tickets to my first show.” you almost laughed because this is no stadium or club, but a home—one you built with him.

it takes only one smile from him for you to hold it back.

“any song requests?” he strums on the guitar strings, perfectly in tune. it’s almost as if he tuned it before coming to you.

a hum leaves you as you rest your head on your hand propped on the couch. “whatever you want to show me.”

time is the one thing that occupies your mind. it holds value, something that shouldn’t be wasted, and you learned to revolve your life around it.

when you lean closer to him, his fingers falter, messing up the chords. your hand reaches out to caress his face as your eyes flicker to his lips. you don’t miss how jacob holds his breath, how he stops playing the guitar, how his eyes look back at yours—it’s a slurry of warmth, tenderness.

“i love you.”

all it took was a three-word phrase from you for him to close the distance.

the warmth that spreads within you is like the one you experience in the abandoned cabin. but now, you’re full of hope—a reason to stay—in an infected-ridden world.

now, only one question echoes within your mind: how much longer do we have?

an eternity is what you hope.

perma taglist ➵ @deoboyznet @kflixnet @blankjournal @winterchimez @miusgirl @jenoscafe @sweet-unicorn-world @vernyangel @mosviqu @stealanity @deobi0412 @blue-rainydays @maessseongs

#works of moni #deoboyznet #kflixnet #bjnet #k-labels #the boyz #jacob bae #the boyz x reader #jacob bae x reader #the boyz fluff #the boyz angst #jacob bae angst #jacob bae fluff #lee hyunjae #lee hyunjae x reader #lee hyunjae angst #lee hyunjae fluff

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strikersexhaver · 1 year

Note

Hi!

Since requests are open, I thought I'd give it a try! So far, I've only saw 1-2 fics with the similar concept. Can I request headcanons for Striker x Male Angel Reader? I thought it'd be interesting since know we know how angels look like (Canonically: Adam and there are two concept art pictures of two angel sisters: Emily and Sera).

(A/N) Okay so! I’m not sure if Emily and Sera are canon. Because when I looked for them it was “Hazbin Hotel: Journey to the Light” which I think was a very popular fan fiction? I’m not sure though. Regardless, I got you covered though!

I used some personal headcanons, to make it easier / flow more smoothly. It also worked as a ‘angel who’s pretty much a runt and got kicked out’

Striker X Male Angel!S/O

Like most demons, during the aftermath of an exorcist. Striker was in the pride on grabs for leftover angelic weaponry.

It’s not that he liked the spears that they used, oh no no, he was a gunman through and through.

It’s simply that the metals from these leftover weapons can create other holy weapons. Such as his guns, for his job it was crucial to have these. As demonic royalty (and overlords) cannot die (or die again) without certain holy weaponry.

But what he was not expecting to find was an angel that was left behind, you were attempting and failing to conjure a portal back.

It was depressing watching you fail back and forth, but unfortunately Striker wasn’t here to pity.

He wanted your weapon plus- you were distracted so perfect opportunity.

Quietly sneaking up behind you and slipping your weapon with something else he ran.

You didn’t even notice as you were so annoyed, pissed that you couldn’t go back.

It was only until you looked around and noticed the weight in your hand was gone, you let out a sigh.

You usually were supposed to drop these weapons anyway, but you brought your own.

Your own weapon you spent too much time investing in, so you had to go and get it regardless.

The only thing you saw of him was a cowboy silhouette and the only thing that came to mind was Wrath, you’ve heard that those who live there are much more akin to southern people on Earth.

You tracked him down, all the way back to his lair to find him dissembling your weapon, pissed you were at the discovery.

He was surprised you followed him, found it amusing an angel being so caught up on a demon went this far. But he used this as a chance to see how good angels really were at fighting.

He was proved right, you were good at what you did. But he was a bit surprised, you didn’t seem like too much of an elite angel. You were on his level but that’s it.

He was intrigued, so he teased you and stopping trying with you practically becoming a casual

Even flirting with you saying things like-

“What’s a handsome thang’ like ya’ self doin’ all this far out in hell?” His tail swished with interest, with an amused grin.

“Heh, I thought y’all were supposed to fuckin’ hate hell-“

It was clear he wasn’t taking you all that seriously, he figured you were left behind.

You were trying not to respond till you got some upper hand- yet to no avail.

He pissed you off.

He noticed and kept fucking around with you, belittling you in comments jokingly.

At one point you even laughed at them, not even taking them offensively.

You started to flirt back in a way that was demeaning in the eyes of your angelic peers from above.

During this fight your feathers fell off, not from the pressure but the fact you were flirting with a demon, maybe the older angels would claim it’s because you both are men.

But for some reason, you did not care. You already got left behind by your fellow angels so- what was the point anymore?

You two started hitting it off, a withering angel on the way to being fallen and a rattlesnake-imp of a cowboy.

He took you out instead of fighting with you, he flirted with you while taking the two of you to a bar.

“So’ why’d ya’ get kicked out?” he said while drinking a shot of whiskey.

You denied being kicked out, as your feathers fell.

He shrugged it off, what was clear to him clearly wasn’t to you.

Until you noticed your wings dropped, your back light and nothing was able to lift you off your feet anymore.

You clutched your shoudler as you turned to see your now gone wings.

Striker had a smirk on his face

“See? Ya’ got left alone suga’” he kept drinking and looked at you with a smirk.

A look of shock was on your face till realization hit, yeah you fully got left behind purposefully. And fully alone- besides the half-imp besides you of course.

Striker on the other hand, used this to his advantage he was able pry out the information on where Angels dropped their weapons in hell from you.

And other, miscellaneous things that would help him out

He did start to like you, eventually, he smiled around you. He got you to assist him on his jobs, furthering your downfall to hell.

#striker #striker helluva boss #striker x reader #striker x reader helluva boss #helluva boss #helluva boss striker #striker / reader #striker and reader #striker x y/n #striker x oc

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garbinge · 1 year

Text

Midnight Movie

Tommy Miller x F!Reader

From these April Prompts: “Midnight showing of a movie”

Summary: Tommy decides to surprise you with a midnight showing of your favorite movie in the Jackson commune.

A/N: Tommy Miller is my comfort cowboy and I will not be taking any further questions, thank you.

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Fluff! ( I know shocking from the angsty queen but this is just a sweet lil fic)

TLOU Taglist: @iraot @justreblogginfics @drabbles-mc

“Baby, wake up.” Tommy shook you lightly to stir you awake.

You shot up from the movement, instantly going into fight or flight mode. The grip you placed on Tommy was strong and defensive and your legs were ready to run but seemed to misstep in the chaoticness of you shooting out of bed. His hands grasped your arms, his grip solid on you but more in a grounding way. “You’re alright, I got you.” His voice was soft and without a second thought your body immediately relaxed at his voice.

“Jesus.” A whisper escaped as your head fell down in exhaustion and your grasp on him lightened as you realized it was Tommy and not a intruder. You let your hands to linger on his arms, feeling the flex of his muscles even through the denim winter coat he had on. The time on the clock next to your bed was 12:10AM, you could still feel the cold on his jacket which meant he just got in, another evening patrol shift that had gone over time which likely meant infected or raider sightings. Tommy had been off overnight duty for a while now, but never shied away from the evening/end of day shifts. All a part of making the commune work.

You let out a sigh as you came to it, your heart slowly racing from the jump scare.

“I didn’t mean to scare ya,” a light chuckle left Tommy’s mouth, a hand coming to cup the side of your face before he went back to his original hold on you.

“Your shift ran over.” The bed creaked as you brought yourself back down to sit at the edge, bringing your one leg up so you could be facing Tommy as he plopped down next to you.

“My group found tracks, had to see it through, ended up being a herd of moose.” You frowned at that, knowing moose tended to be solitary animals. Tommy must’ve read your mind and quickly responded. “They must be adaptin’ to the ways of the world or whatever. Safer to travel in packs.” A shrug fel from his shoulders and you nodded, still half asleep and trying to wake up.

“Glad you’re okay.” You rested your forehead on his.

“Come on, I woke you up because I got somethin’ to show ya.” The smile on his face grew as he stood up, his hand traveling down your arm and moving to grip your hand. His fingers intertwined with yours, the chill from his touch waking you up fully now.

“Tommy!” You called his name out at a loud whisper. “We’re going to wake up Ellie and Joel!”

The two had been staying at your place since they had arrived a month ago, there were plenty of other houses available, but Tommy insisted they stay here for a bit, until they get a lay of the land. You were completely on board, it was rare and in between that life before the outbreak found a way of coming back so you knew you had to relish at the opportunity.

“They’ll be fine, now.” Tommy’s texan accent coming in strong as he excitedly pulled you through your home. “Here, put your jacket on.” All the lights were off in the house, so as you stood in the entry way the only light shining through was coming in from outside, from the moon. Tommy was throwing the coat over your back, as you swiftly slid your boots on. He was moving so eagerly that you barely had time to get your jacket on before he was pulling the front door open.

“W–where are we going?” You asked frantically as you slid your arms into your coat and buttoned it up as the cold wind snuck its way into the house. Stepping rapidly you ran up to him and closed the door, quickly but quietly so as to not wake your guests. Tommy stood tall in the doorway on the porch looking down at you as you looked up at him, confusion all over your face. “You gonna spill the beans or what?” Your eyebrows raised and arms crossed as you shivered. The snow was flurrying lightly, which felt like everyday weather in the Wyoming winter but the wind was a bit harsher tonight than usual and despite your coat and boots, you weren’t exactly dressed for it.

“Do you trust me?” Tommy had a smirk on his face that was practically screaming don’t trust me. But he was your person, your crazy cowboy, these last years with Tommy were what people dreamed of pre-outbreak, and you were lucky enough to experience it now. In this beautiful little town. You took a deep breath as you rolled your eyes.

“Of course I trust you, Miller.” A smile formed on your face. Tommy gave one right back, extended his hand out to you and nodded his head towards the main street of Jackson. With an exhale, you grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight. “Alright, cowboy, let’s go.”

With that, you two were off. Despite the frigid air, Jackson was beautiful, especially at this time of night. The silent sound of snow falling with the white noise of the dam faint in the background was everything to you. One of your favorite things pre-outbreak and now you got to experience it for months straight. Even with the snow, the stars could be seen, the mountains in the landscape were breathtakingly large, covered with snow caps and trees. It was gorgeous, and you couldn’t help but think every single time you’d look around how lucky you were to come across the little town of Jackson in the middle of the end of the world. The string lights hung around the village were romantic even though the true purpose of them was for guidance, it gave the street a bit of ambience, even when it wasn’t populated with people it just gave off a warm and inviting aura.

As you trekked through the center street where all the main buildings of use sat, the laundry, the trade shop, the house of worship, schools, everything you could think of, your arm linked with Tommy’s. There was slightly less urgency as you two walked, but you could tell this wasn’t just an evening stroll. Just as you were about to ask him what this was all about, he spoke up.

“Alright now, close your eyes.”

Your protests began immediately. “Tommy!” You drawed out his name and let your shoulders fall eager to find out what was happening.

“C’mon. You said you trust me, remember?”

You closed your eyes and let your head fall back impatiently. There was a moment where you felt a small amount of heat in front of you and you raised your arms up to try and get your bearings. Your hands were met with Tommy’s body, he placed his own hands on your face, bringing it back forward from your immature response.

“You’ll find out what the surprise is soon, miss grumpy.” Before you could argue against the nickname, your lips were being met with his. His mustache was covered in snow, the cold jolting you straight even as you melted into the kiss. Before getting lost further into the kiss, you pulled away to catch your breath, the cold front moving through your body taking the wind out of you for a minute. You took the opportunity to retort back to Tommy.

“If you didn’t want me to be grumpy,” you caught your breath, “you shouldn’t wake me up in the middle of the night.”

“I can take you back to the house.” His voice was dangerously low as he spoke so close to your face in efforts to tease you. “No surprise, no problem.” He raised his hands in surrender, keeping his forehead touching yours but backing his body up a couple steps.

“No, no, no.” You protested losing the body heat, immediately fighting to bring him closer. He let out a quiet laugh through his grin as his arms embraced you back. You now gazed up into his eyes, admiring the man in front of you.

“Ay, I thought I told you to close your eyes.” He squinted as he caught you breaking his rule and he brought his hand up to jokingly cover your eyes.

“They’re closed! They’re closed!” You called out in between laughs.

Following directions, you kept your eyes closed, letting your other senses take over as he brought his lips back to yours. The scent of his body wash was extremely faded, covered by notes of the outdoors, light hints of fire and dirt, so only fragments of the fresh soap scent swiped past your nose as he kissed you. Tasting the coffee on his lips, likely from his patrol route to keep him alert, you let his tongue dance around your lips. Focusing in on the kiss, you heard the satisfying groan coming from Tommy’s throat as the kiss deepended, instinctually to pull him closer to you, you gripped his jacket and made him stumble forward, your hands moved to his coat pockets in a sad attempt to keep warm but also a way to keep him near.

You both pulled away at the same time, leaning your heads against each other trying to catch your breath, both of your chests raising up and down, inhaling the cold air to your lungs. Your hands stayed in Tommy’s pockets as he looked down and laughed.

“If you were that cold, you should have said somethin’.” He took his gloves off and took one hand out of his pocket at a time to place them on you, as oversized as they were, they did get the job done.

“And miss an excuse to bring you closer to me?” You said placing them back in his jacket pockets with a grin. “Not a chance.” You moved him closer again.

With a laugh, he brought his hands to your face. “You ready?”

“As ever, cowboy.” You closed your eyes tight as he took your arm in his, guiding you in a new direction. He ushered you up the stairs to wherever he was taking you, directing you when to take a step, confirming that you were safe and steady. The warmth of the building you entered tickled down your body. You smelled something new inside, although it had a sense of familiarity to it, but you hadn’t smelled it in years. And that’s when it hit you, popcorn. The toasted, salty air was so welcoming, and when Tommy told you to open your eyes you practically felt like collapsing to the ground in awe.

“Alright, baby,” He positioned you where you figured was right in the center of the surprise, “open your eyes.”

The Tispy Bison frequently turned into the town cinema, there was a projector, there were string lights, and obviously food and drink but this was different. There was stovetop popcorn popping in the kitchen, the string lights were accompanied by homemade streamers and banners, near the front of the space there was an old reclining couch that replaced the full suite of folding chairs that usually were set up for movie night. The projector flipped on, your eyes moving to see Tommy now fidgeting with it anxiously, the film roll glitching on and off the sheet that served as a screen. You looked back at it and saw the title screen when it finally fully powered on.

Little Women.

The font gave away that it was the 1994 version, and more specifically, your favorite version.

Surprised was an underwhelming way to describe what you were feeling right now, you were baffled, blown away and even those words felt like they were lacking description in how you truly felt. Your eyes scanned the rest of the room, seeing the little details that were added into the surprise. A snow cone machine, something from the 90s that was comparable to an EZ bake oven and likely didn’t work but you knew you’d have the time of your life trying to figure it out with Tommy. Tons of blankets and pillows tossed over the couch, a bar full of food, it was incredible. For a moment, as you gazed over everything you saw slight movement by the kitchen where the popcorn was popping and did a double take. Ellie quickly waved with a large smile on her face and elbowed Joel who seemed extremely focused on not burning the stovetop kernels. Joel shot a look to Ellie of annoyance before looking through the serving hatch and giving an awkward nod as a greeting.

You smiled back and brought your hands to your heart to show your appreciation before looking back over the entire Tipsy Bison for Tommy to offer your gratitude in as many ways as possible.

He snuck up from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist and you felt him lean down and let the side of his face touch yours, his lips resting right by your ear.

“Happy Birthday.”

Your eyes closed the moment he whispered it to you. In awe that not only did he remember but had planned something so elaborate with the little resources the town had and offered up for special occasions. Usually birthdays were a cookie, of your choice, with a candle in it and a day free of responsibilities, and only if you were open to celebrating - many people didn’t like the attention.

“How–” You froze on your words, “When–”, still trying to figure out what exactly you wanted to say to him. “Tommy.” Was the only thing you could find yourself to say as you turned around in his arms and hugged him tight.

“You like it?” He asked as his arms tightened around your back.

“Are you kidding me? I love it.”

“Ellie really helped me pull it together, and the town knows how much work you’ve been putting in around here. You skip your birthday every year, so they came ‘round pretty easily to a big celebration. Took ‘em some convincing to make it a more of an intimate party since everyone wanted to join the festivities, but” you felt him shrug as he looked around the bar. “I know it ain’t much but just figured you deserved to do somethin’ on your birthday.”

“Tommy. This is incredible.”

He blushed at your compliment.

“I don’t think I had anything like this even pre-outbreak.” Your gaze went back around the room. “Wait,” your neck snapped to look back at him. “So the moose aren’t traveling in herds?”

Tommy let out a belly laugh, baffled by how your mind worked. “No, I’m sorry to say that was a cover.”

“Well, nights ruined.” You threw your hands up. “The moose don’t have friends.”

Tommy laughed and brought you back in towards him. “The moose might not have friends but I do, I managed to trade for your favorite.” A bar of chocolate was now in front of your face and your mouth was watering. It had been easily a decade since you had chocolate, likely even more and that wasn’t the good stuff. In front of you, in Tommy’s hands, was a Hershey bar. It was probably way past the expiration date, but stale GOOD chocolate beat shitty fresh chocolate anyday.

“Tommy Miller, you perfect, perfect, man.”

#Tommy Miller #tommy miller tlou #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x you #tommy miller x f!reader #TLOU #the last of us #the last of us hbo

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