#i don't think this is the type of murder the prompt had in mind | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

psychedelic-ink · 2 years ago

Text

𝐂𝐑𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘.

DAY SIX OF HAUNTED HOEDOWN

prompt: slasher au (still takes place in the tlou'verse) + sex in the woods or somewhere public (added bonus if it includes knife, blood, hunter x prey kink)

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni, soft dark fic, horror, murder mystery

summary: bodies have been dropping left and right in the most brutal ways in jackson. as the relentless wave of deaths continues, your mind becomes increasingly restless. however, you find a sense of comfort and solace in the presence of joel. who might be hiding secrets of his own.

word count: 10k (i don't know what happened)

warnings: dubcon at the end, knife kink, descriptive canon typical violence, blood & mild gore, grief and death, an unpleasant guy hitting on you, murder, face-sitting, throat-fucking, mutual oral sex (69), dirty talk, possessive!joel, exhibitionism (tommy watches very briefly, he also kisses you in a platonic way), sex in the woods, piv, Joel is actually quite nice if you exclude the murders, mild breeding kink, size kink, little bit of blood kink

a/n: the owl mask joel wears in this to hide who he is is inspired by @softlyspector's post about the tawny owl mug joel uses in tlou part 2 which I still get sad if I think about it for too long 😭

Bodies have been dropping dead all around you long before the outbreak.

Maybe not in the everyone-you-know-is-getting-infected-and-killing-people type of way, but more so in a death-never-felt-like-a-stranger-to-you sort of way. Yet, you still don’t know how to deal with death. Your grief is as violent as a butterfly flapping its wings; the strength of it non-existent but you never know where, or when, it’ll cause a storm.

First, it was your grade school teacher. You didn’t have a particularly strong bond with her but you did like her. You still remember how your friend's voice quaked as she gave you the news on a landline. You couldn’t believe it and had to accuse her of making a joke, even though you knew she would never joke about something like this. Then your dad took the phone from you and you just assumed your friend's mom did the same. The next week, when you went back to school and the funeral was now behind all the children in the classroom, the custodian cut the last tablecloth your teacher had used for her desk and gave a piece to each and every one of you. It was a vibrant orange cloth with daisies scattered around – ugly, but you still cherished it.

Then it was your pets, grandparents – there was also the time when your pet-crazed neighbor adopted another smaller dog while she still had two untrained, over-energized dogs, and the two twins ripped the other dog apart. You had seen the carnage. By some miracle, that small, fluffy dog named Sugar was still breathing, alive. You had held a blood bag over the dog's head, hoping that the small animal wouldn't die.

She didn’t die that day, but it sure as hell left a scar on you.

As a kid, you never seemed to quite grasp the ways of grieving. You didn’t get angry. You didn’t cry. You just. . thought about it. However, the emotions came differently when you became an adult. Now when someone close to you died, you felt it more violently, oddly enough you still fought against the tears and only cried when you were alone.

On Outbreak Day, you lost everything.

Your family, your friends—your life, now it was all about survival, but survival towards what, you didn’t know. You killed for it, fought for it. Yet every move you made felt automatic like you were wired to at least try and survive — to wait it out and not be left behind when civilization rebuilt itself once more.

You made some friends along the way and lost some friends too. You locked their faces and their memories in your heart, only unlocking the box when you were truly and utterly alone.

Then you found Jackson.

And you met Joel and Tommy Miller.

Your official title is scavenger but you much prefer to label yourself as an explorer instead.

You’ve adapted to your quite well life at Jackson. You go beyond the borders, sometimes alone and sometimes with other fellow explorers, and gather supplies or try to pinpoint other locations threats might be lurking in. You’re about to go on another trip, this one shorter than your regular one to two-week expeditions, but before heading out you decide to stop by the only bakery in Jackson named The Last Crumb—previously named The Cordyceps Crumb but Maria decided it was in bad taste. You, on the other hand, had found it funny and topical.

As you patiently wait in line, your camping bag waiting for you outside the bakery, someone bumps into you from behind, then never moves back.

You turn with a raised eyebrow, not enjoying the close proximity, “Excuse you,” you snap. The man looks at you with a hint of mischief in his eyes, you roll your eyes when you recognize the face. “Move back a beat Tucker, I’m not in the mood this morning.”

“Someone didn’t get her beauty sleep,” he grins but moves away regardless. “Want me to come with you this time? Sweet thing like you alone out there? It’s ain’t right.”

“You can barely aim. Why would I want someone that’s most likely to get me killed around me?”

“I think you’ll find my company to be plenty entertaining.”

You’re about to gag when the bell of the bakery chimes, the sharp sound echoing through the wooden walls. Your face must've shown immense signs of relief because Tucker turns around to see who you're looking at. His instant frown makes you want to laugh and chuck him between the two men you’d describe as a wolf den.

“Well, if it ain’t the Miller brothers,” Tucker tuts, attempting to give one of them a friendly pat on the shoulder. He stops midway when Joel’s gaze flits between you and him, his glare hard enough to cut diamonds.

So he ends up slapping Tommy’s shoulder instead, which isn’t the best thing since you know the younger Miller hates Tucker. But among the brothers, he’s probably the one with less probability of getting your hand bitten off.

“Mornin’ Tucker,” Tommy answers, forcing a smile.

Joel is less friendly, his words directed at you, “Is this dumbass botherin’ you again?”

“I wouldn't exactly call a greeting among friends “botherin’,” Tucker says. “We’re just catchin’ up, no need to get your panties in a bunch Miller.”

“God, you’re one word away from ruining my morning,” you hiss, glaring at the unpleasant man. “And we’re not friends.”

His brows furrow, eyes going hard with an ugly snarl accompanying them, you feel braver when Tommy and Joel are around so you hold his gaze, not flinching away.

Tommy is the one to ease the tension. He lays a hand on Tucker’s shoulder and squeezes, drawing the man’s attention away from you. “I’ll get you what you want a’right Tucker? It’s on me. Just go wait outside.”

“But—”

“Outside, Tuck,” Tommy repeats and you shudder at his tone.

Tucker’s shoulders drop, defeated, “Fine, get me a raisin bagel.”

He doesn’t wait for Tommy’s response and heads out the bakery. You finally release the breath you’ve been holding, your muscles relaxing along with the exhaled breath. Joel is by your side in the blink of an eye, his broad shoulder brushing yours providing comfort.

“You sure you’re a’right?” he asks, gently curling fingers under your chin. “The prick didn’t do anythin’?”

“Nah, nothing. He’s all bark but no bite. He asked if he wanted to join me today as if that buffoon wouldn’t get me killed.” you shrug, men being assholes was nothing new to you. You’re just glad that in Jackson it seems that there are more good apples than rotten ones. “Too bad even paradise comes with drawbacks.”

Joel snorts as Tommy cuts in, “Maria would be thrilled if she heard you calling it paradise.”

“What are you smiling at? You think you can find anywhere better?” You playfully nudge Joel with your elbow. “You know there’s nothing but hell out there.”

“I do, I just think callin’ here a paradise is a bit of a stretch is all.”

The line moves and the three of you are finally at the counter, “You’re just a grump,” you tease Joel before turning your gaze to Poppy, the barista who knows everything about everyone. “Hey there, Poppy, the usual please.”

“And a damn raisin bagel,” Tommy adds.

“Well, isn’t it my favorite trio,” Poppy grins. “I’ll get all that ready for you in a second,” she locks her blue eyes on you and leans closer, you mimic her by instinct. “By the way have you heard of Ian? He wound up dead right outside the chopping block, an axe right through his chest.”

You frown, “Good morning to you too, Poppy. Jesus Christ.”

“I’ll confess I didn’t love the guy but isn’t it worrying that there’s a killer among us?” she murmurs while stuffing the goodies in paper bags. “Be careful out there.”

“Well, if the culprit is here I think I might be safer out there,” you say and turn to Tommy. “Does Maria know?”

“Of course, she does,” when you part your lips to say more, he lifts a finger and shoots you a crooked smile. “It’s confidential.”

“Aw man, can’t you just tell us who she thinks it is?” Poppy asks, Tommy shakes his head and she lets out a dramatic sigh, “I miss my murder mystery books.”

“I’ll try to find you something while I’m out,” you say, ignoring the way your heart began to race. Jackson is still a small town, it’s jarring to think someone might be out there, looking for their next target. “Though I think we could all do with a little less murder.”

You hadn’t expected your voice to crack but your tone had betrayed you. Poppy extends you the bag of goods and a latte, as you reach out you feel Joel’s hand on your waist. His lips touch your ear. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I’m sure whoever it is is only goin’ after those who deserve it.”

You lock your eyes with him, blinking heavily at the weight of his words. His voice had dropped, nothing but gravel as he whispered the words into your ear. A cold sensation slithers down your spine, chilling you to your core and making your throat tighten.

His hand never leaves your waist as the three of you head out, and after a while, that chill slowly dissolves into a pleasurable warmth.

You find solace in the woods. You love Jackson, but being in the woods away from everyone and everything makes you feel comforted. The first time you went scavenging, there was a slight fear in your movements; no matter how good your aim was, any kind of infected was difficult to kill.

But now you walk with ease. There isn’t an ounce of worry in your bones. The trees rustle happily and the smell of flowers and pine fills your nostrils. You can feel your lungs rejuvenating with every breath. Trickles of orange sunlight pour from the gaps of the trees. The sun sets, meaning you need to set up camp soon.

While unpacking, you think of this morning. How Joel and Tommy stepped in when Tucker started bothering you. Honestly, you didn’t need their protection; Tucker is just one of those men who think they might have a shot if they bother you enough times. Still, it was nice to be claimed in a way, to be accepted into a family and cared for.

Your breath hitches slightly. Tommy, you see as a close friend, a brother perhaps, but Joel... Joel is another thing. Just thinking about him is enough to start a wildfire between your legs. You wish you were brave enough to do something about it, though. Whenever you two patrol together or stay awake late at night drinking, you always chicken out in the end. It doesn’t matter how his hands linger on your thighs or his eyes drop to your lips; you're just never convinced that the Joel Miller would be interested in you beyond a friend.

An unease starts to settle in the pit of your stomach. As the air grows colder with the approaching night, your skin prickles and you feel the phantom sensation of claws dragging down your back. You set the tent as quickly as you can, your eyes darting around the depths of the forest. Briefly, you bend over to adjust the ropes.

A breath warm and damp ghosts the back of your neck and you jump, gun in hand as you turn around only to find—

Nothing.

And no one.

Your heart is hammering in your chest, adrenaline pumping in your veins, a drop of sweat trickling down your forehead. You've never had a trigger finger, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't want to just shoot every shadow you see.

“Dammit Poppy,” you mutter, annoyed that she gave you the brutal knowledge of Ian’s death right before you were heading out. Guilt stings at your heart. Ian was an asshole for sure, and you don’t exactly feel bad that he’s gone, but still, it was an eerie thought that someone had murdered him so violently. It had to be personal.

Some part of you wishes Joel was here, or even Tucker, just another human being to tell you you’re just seeing things.

You take a deep inhale and follow it up with a long exhale. You’re fine. There’s no one here.

You give your surroundings one last suspicious look before going back to setting the tent.

No matter how hard you try you can’t shake the feeling of someone watching you amongst the shadows.

Joel hears crickets and owls. The night had always been his friend since the outbreak. He had become a violent man with an equally violent heart. He waits in the shadows, watching. Laughter and playful shouts echo from the bar, and soon the door swings open; the man he's been waiting for crawls out of the establishment, shit-faced. The drunk man shouts his farewells and staggers toward his home.

Joel follows, his mask heating up the skin that lays underneath. His fingers itch with the need to wring that asshole's neck. One by one, he had been cleaning Jackson for the better. His tendencies subdued while also doing some good. Ian was one of those people who deserved it and Joel had enjoyed the chase, the pleas, he especially enjoyed the way he tripped and cried right before he sunk the blade of the axe through Ian’s chest.

Tucker trips, making Joel want to laugh. The idiot might not even realize he’s being hunted. Joel looks around, they are far enough for the chase to begin. Tucker continues to slip and fall as he attempts to get up. Taking the opportunity, Joel walks towards him with quick steps, making sure the first thing the asshole sees is his mask.

Tucker notices him before he gets up, his hands bracing the ground, his eyes go wide, “What the fuck?”

Joel only tilts his head. He sees the trembles rolling down the other man’s body, he relishes in his fear.

“Look man, I don’t want any trouble, whoever the fuck you are so. . . scram.”

Joel’s eyes dart to his hand on the dirt, without a second thought he lifts his foot and curb stomps Tucker’s hand. Then he kicks the side of his face, an audible crunch echoing before his scream could. The man whimpers and falls back in his attempt to crawl away. He holds his jaw, blood streaming down his broken nose.

“Who the fuck are you?!”

He steps closer and watches as Tucker’s eyes bug out. He’s too drunk to properly run away or even scream. Such an easy target. He grips the other’s hair and lifts him to his feet, he can feel the strands starting to rip from his scalp one by one, Tucker’s face twisting in pain. “Your worst fuckin’ nightmare,” Joel answers eerily calm. It doesn’t matter if Tucker recognizes him. He’d be dead soon enough anyway.

“P-Please,” he begs, realizing the same thing. “I’ll do whatever you want promise. I don’t want to die.”

Joel grunts, not dignifying his pleas with an answer. Lifting his other hand, his knuckles connect to Tucker’s face with a loud crunch, body flying to the ground headfirst.

He pulls out his knife and drops down, ignoring the ache in his knees, he grabs Tucker’s arm and aligns the sharp blade against his wrist. Tucker notices, his face going pale as a ghost. “D-Don’t—”

Joel doesn’t bat an eye as blood spurts violently over his clothes and the dirt. Drops of crimson seeping into the fabric. The knife cuts through the flesh like butter, severing hand from bone. His hand clamps over Tucker’s mouth. Joel smiles as his screams bounce off of the palm of his hand.

You come back to Jackson hand empty and earlier than intended. You were too much at unease, and being so jarred wasn’t the best while scavenging for supplies alone. During your trip, you did end up scribbling something for Poppy. It wasn’t finished but you hoped she would enjoy the first draft of the first chapter. It was mostly descriptions of what you felt, a cat-and-mouse game between two people who had bumped into each other accidentally.

While heading into Jackson, you notice a crowd in the distance. You promptly get off your horse and walk with haste. You recognize Joel and Tommy easily, both brothers standing on each end of the crowd like gates keeping a herd of sheep in check. Ellie is standing right next to Joel, lifting herself on her toes to see; Joel is holding her back by gripping the cap of her hood.

“What’s going on?” you ask.

Joel turns to you, his eyebrows raising when notices it’s you and not some random person he has to ignore, “You’re back,” he says. A statement rather than a question.

“Yeah, wasn’t feeling that well,” you shrug him off. “So what happened?”

His eyes turn to steel, his jaw locking in place. Before you can ask again, he gestures for you to move up the crowd with a tilt of his head.

“Lucky,” you hear Ellie murmur as you walk ahead, gently pushing those who were looking at the sight with concern. With every step you take, the murmur of the crowd fades into the background, becoming nothing more than white noise. Maria is addressing the crowd, you think, though you're not entirely sure. The scent of blood is thick in the air, disorienting you as you get closer.

Your eyes go wide, the earth slips from beneath you but your expression remains emotionless.

It’s Tucker.

You feel as if you’re standing alone. As if you’re the only one taking in the sight of absolute horror and gore. Tucker is lying in a pile of his own blood face first, his eyes are open and lifeless, his one hand is outstretched like he’s about to crawl away.

His right hand, however, is chopped off.

It’s not even a clean-cut. The edges of his flesh are jagged and crooked, his blood-caked where his hand should be. Whoever did this cut it so it would hurt, so he would suffer tremendously.

You can’t help but gasp, covering your mouth with your right hand. You begin to shake, confusion churning in your stomach as bile coats your tongue. He’s dead. Just like Ian.

When Maria’s eyes find your own, she narrows her gaze, a small warning for you to keep it together. You can’t though. How could you? Tucker was alive and kicking a couple of days ago, just being his annoying self around Jackson.

“Calm down,” you hear Joel mutter into your ear. You shiver at the brush of his lips. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

Safe. You want to laugh. You don’t even know what that word means anymore.

Joel’s mouth moves over the shell of your ear, “He was a nuisance. Don’t feel bad now that he’s dead.”

“I didn’t want him to die,” you hiss back. “And knowing there’s a serial killer out there doesn’t exactly make me feel safe.”

Despite your half-angry tone, you find yourself leaning into Joel’s presence. Your shoulder presses into his broad chest, and without missing a beat he wraps his arms around your shaking frame. Relief comes in the form of warmth spreading along your chest, tingles forming at the tips of your fingers and toes. The voices of the crowd gradually come back but you only hear one of the many questions.

“What do you think the message means?”

Confusion crosses your face, brows furrowing as you try to make sense of it. Joel makes a choked-out sound that could’ve easily been taken as an amused chuckle.

Then your eyes drop to Tucker’s outstretched hand and his dying message written in blood.

O W L

A week had passed since Tucker’s death.

You've been thinking about both murders relentlessly, trying to piece together everything that you know so far. During this time, you're grateful for Poppy, who comes by almost every night to help you try to solve the case. That's been your sole focus for the past few weeks; you haven't been scavenging since you spooked yourself so badly that you returned early, only to find Tucker dead.

Some part of you thinks that the eeriness you felt that day was a sign of what was about to happen. It's also an odd coincidence that he ended up dead the same night he harassed you in the morning. However, there are no forensic investigators in Jackson, so it’s almost impossible to determine the exact time of death. That fact alone makes you anxious. It only means that whoever is killing everyone has nothing to worry about because even if they leave traces, who’s going to know?

In order to keep your nerves in check you end up writing a lot. You haven’t shown any of it to Poppy yet but you’re excited. You never thought writing a thriller would be the perfect way to escape the horrors of your actual life. At least in your stories, you have control.

You also visit Joel and vice versa.

Something had shifted the day he held you as you both gazed upon Tucker’s lifeless body. Maybe it was just you who felt bolder since death was once again right around the corner — or maybe Joel just felt more protective now, wanting to check on you as much as he could.

“You’re really writin’ a whole ass novel?” he asks, pouring you a glass of scotch. You still can’t get over the fact that it nearly tasted identical to the actual stuff. Jackson is truly a miracle; at least when bodies aren’t dropping left and write.

Ellie’s at a sleepover, which means you and Joel have the whole house to yourselves. With everything going on you’d expect your libido to diminish a bit but it’s as strong as ever, ready to go.

You smile as he places the glass in front of you, “Yeah,” you say, picking up the glass and heading toward the living room. “I couldn’t find Poppy anything to read and it helps me relax.”

“Relax, how?” he asks, taking a seat next to you. The couch dips with his weight, and heat crawls up from your chest to your neck when his knee brushes against yours.

“Well, it’s a horror thing. Horror slash mystery? I don’t know—whatever it is, it’s nice to have an outlet to escape what’s been happening lately.”

“So to escape brutal murders you write more brutal murders?”

You chuckle at the way his eyebrows raise, eyes going wide, “I don’t really focus that much on the gore. It’s more psychological, my sweet brute. Things don’t need to have blood to be scary.”

His grin is wide and instant, dark eyes lighting up with amusement, “What did you just call me?”

“I. . .” Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him, suddenly realizing what you’d said.

“What cat got your tongue?” he teases. Joel leans closer, fingers dancing along the curve of your shoulder. You can feel the gravel in his voice. “You just called me yours, sweetheart. Does that jog your memory?”

“I also called you brute,” you quip back immediately, cheeks aflame. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Don’t it?” his palm now presses fully into your shoulder, keeping you in place in case you might run. Joel tilts his head slightly, the plush of his lips only an inch away. “I like you callin’ me that,” the pink of his tongue swipes over his bottom lip. “Say it again.”

“S-Say what?”

A small chuckle parts his lips, oddly enough it almost feels like his patience is wearing thin. He comes closer, the tip of his nose brushing yours. “That I’m yours,” he clarifies. “Been waitin’ to hear those words come from your mouth since I met you.”

“You’re mine,” you whisper against his lips, eyelids fluttering but not quite closing. With the confession, you feel the brush of Joel’s lips on yours. His tongue traces the seam of your mouth. You part for him with a moan, and taking the opportunity, he slides inside, tasting every inch of you.

His lips taste and feel like the forests you wander off to; it soothes you, calms your nerves, and has the taste of home. They’re chapped from the sun, yet soft. You can’t have enough of him, if he’d offered, you’d gladly kiss him forever.

Joel parts with a shaky breath, his chest heaving, “And you’re mine,” he groans, his eyes dark with arousal. It’s an involuntary action but your eyes drop to the front of his pants where you see the thick outline of his cock.

Your mouth goes dry, yet you manage to speak anyway, “Are words all you’ve been waiting for?” It’s bold, you’re highly aware, but you can’t help it when he’s this close. His scent suffocating, pulling you to him like a moth to a flame.

He stares at you silently. His thumb touches your bottom lip, slightly tugging it down. He’s not smiling anymore, only observing.

“No,” Joel answers slowly. He leans towards your ears, the thick hairs above his lips tickling your skin. “I’ve also been waitin’ to feel that velvet tongue on my cock, honey. And to feel how tight your throat gets when you take every inch of me.”

Joel blows a puff of air, it caresses your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He brings your hand to the front of his pants, dragging your palm up and down his length. You shudder. The heat of it seeps into your palm despite the thick fabric of his jeans, you lick your lips absentmindedly. “This is all for you sweetheart.”

“Fuck, Joel. . .” your eyes roll back when he kisses your neck, open-mouthed kisses laid upon your skin like a gift. Your nipples tighten and if you look down right now, you know you’ll see them peeking through your shirt.

He reads your thoughts, eyes moving down before meeting your gaze again. “Didn’t know you walked around without a bra, sunshine.”

“I only go braless when I’m comfortable,” you answer. Joel cups your breasts roughly, kneading the flesh, he simultaneously sucks on your neck, teeth nipping the sensitive skin. “Oh god,” the fabric of your panties grows damp and you clench your thighs together.

“Not god,” he says sharply, sinking his teeth into you. “Joel.”

“Joel,” you moan and arch your back, filling more of yourself into his palm. You squeeze his cock, relishing in the way he makes a strangled sound. “I want to suck you off, Joel.”

“Be my guest.”

You push him until he’s lying on the couch. You’re about to unbutton his jeans but he stops you.

“Turn around,” he says.

“What?”

His wide grin nearly stops your heart, “Want to taste that sweet pussy, sunshine. Strip down and take a seat.”

“On—On your face?”

“Where else?”

You’re too embarrassed to speak, tongue suddenly too big in your mouth. Quickly, and a bit clumsily, you strip down and turn before straddling his chest. You don’t need to touch yourself to know that you’re soaked.

You swallow, “I’ve never done this before.”

His hands come up to cradle your hips, urging you to move back towards his face. You feel the blunt sting of his nails.

“That’s alright,” he mutters. “I won’t let you fall if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m more worried about how I’m gonna move, or accidentally suffocating you.”

“What a noble way it would be to go.”

“Joel!” you laugh, playfully smacking his thigh. He answers by giving your hips another squeeze, you surrender and move back until you’re hovering over his face. Your hand planted firmly over his hip bones, you lower yourself. You shudder as his tongue licks a stripe between your folds. He moans into your cunt, pulling you flush against his face.

Meanwhile, you finally unzip his pants and pull his cock out, the heft of it bumping against your nose and lips. You drip at the smell of him and swear he smiles as he sucks on your aching clit, short-circuiting your brain with arousal. His cock throbs in your palm, a drop of precome glistening at the tip. Your mouth watering, you lean forward and clean him off. Another groan echoes within his chest and he thrusts forward, the tip of his cock kissing your lips.

Eyes fluttering closed, you suck on the bulbous head and force yourself to go down until he hits the back of your throat. You wrap a hand around the base, stroking where you can’t fit, and hallow your cheeks.

“Come on, sunshine. You can take me,” he rasps. “You’re mine, aren’t you? That mouth is meant to take me.”

Without waiting for an answer, Joel pushes his tongue inside, your walls clenching around the wet muscle—you let out a loud gasp and grind down, then you feel the sting of his palm against your ass, pain blossoming from where he smacked.

Your throat rattles with a moan and Joel takes the opportunity to drive forward, your eyes go wide as you feel the length of him sliding down your throat, cutting the air from your lungs.

“Oh, fuck—” he moans unabashedly, the sounds sending a pleasurable tingle down your spine despite the strain on your throat. “That’s it, sweetheart, just like that. Fuck, fuck—”

Your throat tightens around him, your lungs starting to burn. His hand caresses both sides of your ass, the abrupt pain of the smack from before subduing, “Relax,” he says, swirling his tongue around your clit. “Breathe through your nose. Just a bit more. . .”

Your nails bite into his thighs as you attempt to follow instructions. You relax your throat and slowly begin to breathe from your nose. It’s still difficult, but your lungs rejoice in the minimal amount of air that comes through. You make a mess of him. Saliva dripping from the corner of your mouth and down his length.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he murmurs. “Gonna fuck that pretty throat now and make this pussy come, understood?”

Eyes tearing up, you nod. From the way your stomach convulses, you know that you’re close, your skin tight over your trembling muscles. The nod is all that Joel needs from you. Holding you in place, he snaps his hips forward, burying himself completely down your throat while flicking his tongue against your clit. You scream around him, eyes rolling back as he continues to devour you and take you apart at the same time. He licks you with fat strokes of his tongue, a hint of teeth scraping your folds here and there as he fucks your throat with shallow thrusts.

You’re limp against his broad body, allowing him to use you as he pleases while all you can do is hang on for the ride. Pleasure licks the base of your spine, a searing heat caressing your skin while Joel continues to build you up only for you to fall spectacularly. Your lips start to ache, your throat squeezing around him whenever he snaps his hips forward—

And all hell finally breaks loose.

You come undone with a devastating cry only for it to be muffled by his cock going down your throat. You gush around his tongue, soaking his facial hair and mouth, Joel is underrated, licking and sucking until you’re shaking above him, every bit of tension draining from your body.

Joel comes shortly after, his hand slides from your waist and he manages to reach out in order to hold your head down. You don’t have a choice but to swallow as he spills down your throat, thick spurts of come going down while he shudders and pushes even deeper.

There’s so much of it, cock twitching and throbbing in your mouth until your mouth sucks him dry. You’re lightheaded from the lack of air; you find that it adds to the pleasure that’s buzzing in your veins, your cunt still pulsing with the heft of him still buried in your lips.

He pulls out with a satisfied groan and you manage to scoot down so you’re straddling his chest instead of head. Joel caresses your back, the gentle repeated motion sending tingles down your spine.

“That’s was fuckin’ amazin’,” he says, voice hoarse. “Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” you answer sounding meek. “I think I need some water though.”

You get off, legs still shaking, but he grabs your hand, halting your movement. “Let me get it for you,” he says, sitting up.

“I’m already up,” you smile as his brows furrow with worry, the expression warming your heart. You quickly bend down to kiss him and he’s quick to lick himself into your mouth, tasting himself on your tongue. “I’ll be right back.”

You have no idea how you’re standing while feeling like jello but you manage to get yourself all the way to the fridge. You smile at the coolness touching your warmed skin when you open the door. Scanning the interior, you thoughtlessly rub at your throat in an attempt to soothe the ache a little. You grab the pitcher of cold water and notice a bit of apple pie left over.

“Hey, Joel?” you call out. He hums in acknowledgment. “Can I have a slice of pie?”

His humored chuckle follows through, “You can eat the whole damn thing after what you’ve done,” you smile and take the desert out. “Can you bring me a slice too?” he adds.

You smile and place the pie on the counter. The leftover is already two slices give or take so you decide to just take two forks with you instead of dirting a plate. Looking through the drawers, you try to remember which one is the cutlery drawer.

On your second try you find something else.

Something that makes your eyes go wide and heart throb painfully.

Your hands shaking, you pick up the owl mask from the drawer. The surface is smooth, and the color of it a light shade of brown just like a tawny owl. All the pleasant tingles fade away, the buzz of pleasure in your veins replaced by fear and adrenaline.

Heading back to the living room, you show the mask to Joel.

“What’s this?” you ask, your voice betraying your sudden outburst of fear.

Joel looks up, eyes flitting between you and the owl mask. He raises a brow, his confusion evident across his face. “It’s a mask, sweetheart.”

“No no, I know it’s a mask,” you answer, breathless. “But why do you have it?”

“It’s Ellie’s,” he stands up, his pants still unbuttoned but pulled up. You fight the urge to step away, fight the urge to flinch when he touches your cheek. “They were makin’ Halloween masks last year in school. I didn’t even realize we still had it.”

“Really?” you ask and he nods.

“Really,” Joel claims your lips in a chaste kiss, thumb stroking lines up and down your cheek. His hand slithers down your arm to your wrist and when he squeezes, you drop the mask. “Why?” he breathes into you. “Is this about the damn thing Tucker wrote down?”

You remain silent and he pulls away, dark eyes boring into yours.

“You need to relax, sweetheart,” he mumbles. “Why don’t you just allow yourself to enjoy this? You deserve to be happy.”

Your eyes widen with surprise, his words crashing into you, “I. . . Do I do that? Really?”

“It’s normal, darlin’,” he answers. “I’m pretty sure we all have survivor’s guilt.”

You let out a shaky exhale. He’s right. You were just feeling guilty of being alive when so many had died. Joel smiles back and traces the curve of yours with his fingers. “There’s that smile that I adore,” he guides you towards the kitchen. “Now let’s go eat some pie.”

No matter what though, you can’t help but turn back to look at the owl mask one last time as it lays lifelessly on the floor.

“So, tell me about this book you’re writin’?”

You let out a low laugh, “I already told you about it. What more do you wanna know?”

You stare at Joel’s back as he takes the lead, he’d decided to join you in your explorations ever since you told him how nervous you had gotten the last time. You had appreciated the gesture but still felt a tad anxious around him ever since you found that damn owl mask—

A branch snaps into two under your steps and he turns, extending his hand to you. With a smile you allow him to lace his fingers within yours, your stomach jumping a little as he tugs you close so the two of you are walking side by side instead.

“If memory serves me right we got distracted when you told me about it,” he says with that southern drawl of his. “So tell me again what it’s about.”

“Okay okay,” you smile, squeezing his hand twice. “It’s all a big mess now but the premise is that there’s this guy obsessed with this woman and he stalks her and no matter what she does, she always feels like there’s someone watching.”

Joel looks ahead, “Sounds familiar. Isn’t that how you felt last time you were out here?”

“Yeah, and it’s when I started writing it.”

“So do these two people know each other?” his tone drops, his fingers suddenly feeling like barbed wire within your hand. You swallow. “I mean in their regular lives, does the woman know that he’s the one stalkin’ her?”

You roll your shoulders, a weak attempt to shrug off the eeriness that you feel.

“Exactly. I think that just makes the whole thing creepier. He’s just a normal guy, even a friend, but he’s also the one among the shadows.”

“Interestin’,” he murmurs. “You think that’s happenin’ to you?”

“I don’t think there’s someone stalking me, if that’s what you’re asking,” you utter every word hastily, your pulse quickening under your skin.

His lips curl in a half smile, “That’s good,” he says. “Wouldn’t want you to be laying awake thinking about what might lingerin’ on the other side of the window.”

“I think I’m more likely to stay awake thinking about infected,” you say with a soft laugh. “But yeah, it’s all fiction. That day I probably just got scared because of what Poppy said about Ian.”

“Probably,” Joel trails off, his steps slowing. “How do you think it’s gonna end?”

“W-What?”

He stops and so does your heart. At least you think it does.

Joel faces you fully, his presence towering, he grips your shoulders and pushes you back until the air is knocked from your lungs by a tree right behind you. Your eyes go wide. He leans in, breath tickling your lips.

“How do you think your book is gonna end, sweetheart?” he asks again, eyes gleaming with something dark. “Is the guy gonna get the girl?”

“I—I don’t know.”

All you can think about is the owl mask and how it would perfectly fit his face. He cocks his head and taking a step closer, he slips a leg between your thighs. Slick gathers at your underwear—he feels the fabric dampening on his leg and grins.

“Fear turns you on doesn’t it?” he purrs. “Wicked thing.”

Relief drowns your senses. So that’s why he got all weird suddenly, he’s just teasing you. With a laugh, your head falls back against the tree trunk, “Jesus Joel, you scared the shit out of me.”

“It ain’t my fault,” he says, nipping at your chin. “You’re easy to scare.”

“Well, two brutal unsolvable murders will do that to a girl.”

Joel lets go and pulls away, smiling as he shakes his head, “What’s it gonna take for you to believe I had nothin’ to do with those? Even in death, Tucker causes nothin’ but fuckin’ trouble for me.”

“You don’t need to do anything, I’m sorry,” you pull him back, relishing in the way his strong arms wrap around your frame. “I’ll stop being such a chicken, promise. I’m still a bit jittery that’s all.”

“I forgive you,” he says against your lips, kissing you quickly before pulling you away from the thick trunk of the tree. “Now let’s find a place to settle down for the night.”

When you two return to Jackson three days later, the first thing you notice is the crowd. Your stomach drops at the familiar sight and instinctively you reach out to Joel, lacing your fingers together. He squeezes your hand two times.

The last thing you should be feeling is relief that now it’s not possible for Joel to be the one killing all those people but alas, that’s all you feel. Relief and love.

The trade fair sprawls before you. Stalls with makeshift awnings, tattered banners, and worn tarps create a patchwork quilt of colors, beneath which a diverse array of goods is proudly displayed. The air is thick with the scent of freshly baked bread, the tang of cured leather, and the earthy aroma of herbs. Laughter, chatter, and the occasional clinking of metal form a lively symphony, a chorus of life that drowns out the ever-present background hum of death and infection.

You’ve always enjoyed the time of the trade fair. People move like busy ants, weaving between the stalls. Children, their cheeks dusted with earth, dart through the crowd, their carefree laughter that should be comforting doing the opposite. Since Tina’s death— she was one of the council members— you had been sleeping at Joel’s. Neither he nor Ellie seemed to mind you staying there.

The purpose of the fair is to exchange goods – to exchange, to connect, to share stories of survival.

Your eyes scan the crowd for Joel's familiar silhouette. He and Ellie had headed out before you since you wanted a change of clothes. Just as your gaze begins to falter, a voice reaches your ears. "Hey!" It's Poppy, she waves you over.

You navigate your way through the bustling stalls until you stand before Poppy. She's leaning against a rough-hewn post, a glint of excitement in her eyes.

“Hey, Poppy,” you greet her with a smile. “I’m looking for Joel, or Ellie, have you seen either of them?”

“Well, Ellie is with Dina, hanging out,” She points to the forest that skirts the settlement. "I saw him heading that way not too long ago."

“Alright, thanks. I’ll see you later then,” Waving her off, you head after Joel.

The trees are a bit more scarce here, there’s more room between them. The forest opens up, revealing a sprawling expanse that stretches as far as the eye can see. It's a stark contrast to the dense woods you often travel to, where the trees stand like guardians, their branches interlocking in a tapestry of shadow and light. Here, the gaps between the trees create pockets of sunlight that dapple the forest floor.

However, the expanses between trees can be deceiving, and without the markers and familiarity of the well-trodden paths closer to home, it's easy to lose your way.

For some reason instead of calling out for Joel, you decide to wander aimlessly. You’re not sure why. You don’t come to this side of Jackson often enough to feel comfortable with your surroundings and shouting his name would definitely be easier than walking without aim.

Soon enough you hear faint murmuring beckoning you deeper into the forest.

Survival instincts kicking in, you slow down your steps, making sure to step onto clear dirt instead of gravel or fallen branches. Hiding behind a rather large tree trunk, you stare ahead. In the distance, you see two men: one with his back against the tree, while the other holds him by the neck, the sharp blade of his knife catching the sunlight and reflecting it directly into your eyes.

You hold your breath and your eyes go wide. You hear the thrum of your heart. It’s the killer. It has to be.

You can’t quite hear them but you can decipher the tone of begging for one's life. The man holding the knife tilts his head slightly, your mouth waters at the prospect of finally seeing the murderer's face—

It’s the mask.

The same mask you found in Joel’s home in the shape of an owl. Your stomach churns violently, bile raising to your throat as you watch on. You rub at your eyes, take deep breaths—anything you can think of that would erase the image before you.

Goosebumps raising across your skin, you shake your head. It can’t be Joel. He was with you the day Tina died and no matter how competent he was not even he could be at two places at once.

A muffled scream echoes within the forest and your eyes snap to the two men, the owl had driven his knife into the flesh and bone. He pulls it out, and the body falls. You recognize who it is; Jacob. You heard his name a couple of days ago from Ellie, he was bothering both her and Dina because they were hanging out.

He’s still alive when the killer stomps his head in, blood splattering across the leys.

You’re frozen in place. Your throat dry and tongue motionless. The killer kicks Jacob one last time for good measure and finally stops. You observe the way his shoulders drop as if a great weight had been lifted off of them, then he looks up into the sky, the golden sun highlighting his mask.

Very slowly, he lifts his hand and takes it off.

Every feeling comes rushing back, too fast and too soon. Your tongue is alive again and so is your body, the world is suddenly vibrant with life and horror. The sun continues to caress the countenance of the unmasked killer’s face, his sunkissed skin the perfect canvas to soak up the light.

Joel.

You take a step back, every thought of precaution dropping from your mind. The forest starts to spin. It spins and spins and spins until the ground slips from beneath your feet. You catch yourself at the very last second.

When you look up you see his gaze staring directly into yours.

“Fuck,” you hiss out, quickly staggering up. The last thing you see before you start running is his extended hand as he tries to reach out for you.

“Wait!”

You don’t. You do the exact opposite of that. You run. You run for your life and those in Jackson at the fair.

You run with memories loud in your mind. How Joel had listened to you, comforted you, fucked you—

Tears sting your eyes. Every part of this feels like a nightmare that you hope to wake up from anytime soon. But as the wind hits your skin, you know that every part of this is very much real. Your chest burns from how fast you’re going, your legs starting to falter underneath you.

Before you can react, an unexpected force slams into you. The impact sends shockwaves through your body as you collide with something—or is it someone?—their presence as jarring as the jolt itself. Your momentum falters, and for a fleeting moment, time seems to slow as you stumble, desperately trying to regain your balance.

Two arms grab at you and without even seeing who it is, you start to push the person away, fighting against it like a wild animal.

“Let go of me! Let go of me!”

“Hey hey hey,” you hear a familiar voice repeat. “It’s me, you’re okay,” you’re shaking all around, only when you feel his hands cradle your cheeks do you open your eyes. He smiles when he sees your eyes flicker in recognition.

“Tommy?” you whisper. He nods and without a thought you jump him, wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging him close. His arms coil around you in response, promising to not let go. “Oh, thank fuck it’s you.”

“What happened? Are you alright?”

“I—I am okay but—Joel—It’s Joel, Tommy he’s been the one behind all those murders. We need to warn everyone, we need to tell Maria!”

You grab his arm and tug him along toward what you assume is the right way out of the forest. He remains still. Turning around, you shoot him a confused glance. 'Tommy, we need to tell people.'

“Can’t let you do that sugar, sorry.”

“Why. . . Why not?” you let go and slowly step back, heart pounding. “Is it because he’s your brother?”

You wish that was his excuse. Some moral obligation towards Joel because he’s his brother, that you can relate to. Your heart still pounds for Joel and in your brain, you’re still desperately seeking an explanation.

But Tommy allows the silence to linger, your fear and worry quickly turning into anger.

“Fine, I’ll tell them. It’s wrong.”

It only takes a blink of an eye; you feel Tommy’s iron grip around your wrist, yanking you back into his chest. He holds you. Oddly tender for someone who had made your arm nearly fall out of its socket. You thrash within his arms, pulling and hitting his chest.

“We’re doing good,” he grunts. “You gotta see that.”

You refuse to listen, your ear narrowing on the sound of your own blood rush instead of his words. By some miracle, you manage to slip your arm out and punch him square in the chin. It was a weak punch but strong enough to startle Tommy.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart, calm the fuck down—” he tucks your arm back against your body and turns you around so your back is flush against his chest. You’re breathing raggedly, chest rising with every deep gulp of air. His lips touch your ear, his tone menacing, “I really wish you would’ve not done that.”

“Why?” you gasp. “You’re gonna kill me too?”

Silence follows, and with every passing moment sweat beads on your forehead, “It was you wasn’t it?” you continue. “You killed Tina. Joel only came along with me to calm my suspicions.”

Before Tommy can confirm your suspicions, you notice movement within the forest and your eyes are immediately drawn to the shadow coming forth.

“Smart girl,” Joel remarks with a half smile as he emerges from between the trees. There’s a splatter of red over his shirt but the knife seems to be tucked away. For now. “But you’re only half right, darlin’. I came along because I like spendin’ time with you.”

“Is that supposed to make me ignore the fact that Jacob’s body isn’t even cold yet?”

Joel curls two fingers under your chin, lifting your gaze while Tommy continues to hold you back. You shudder against him, a soft sound parts the younger Miller’s lips.

“He was a piece of shit,” Joel grunts. “He was botherin’ Ellie, callin’ her names, he deserved what he was gettin’.”

“So what, you guys are just playing hero? Killing everyone who’s causing trouble in town? There’s a system for that.”

“Honey,” he tuts, an involuntary warmth spreading within your abdomen. “The system didn’t work before the outbreak, it ain’t gonna work now either.”

“We protect our own,” Tommy says from behind you, breath fanning your neck. “We take care of it before it escalates. You have to understand that.”

“And why the hell would I understand?” you hiss, looking directly into Joel’s eyes while addressing Tommy.

Joel smiles, his lips curling slowly, “Because you’re one of us. And you like it when we protect.”

Your lips part with an exhale. He’s right, not that you still agree with them killing people, but you had enjoyed that primal protection coming from the Millers. It made you feel powerful, loved, cared for. All the things you craved deeply.

You ignore Joel and his words entirely, averting your eyes with embarrassment and shame.

“I just don’t understand why you did it, Tommy” you murmur. Tommy tenses behind you, his arms tightening around your frame, drawing the remaining oxygen from your lungs. “I understand the other’s to an extent but Tina didn’t do anything wrong.”

Joel looks towards Tommy, it was his kill after all and the older Miller had nothing to say about it.

“She was wrecking what Maria is tryin’ so hard to build,” he answers. “She’s pregnant, stress ain’t good for her or the baby.”

“Does. . . Does Maria—”

Tommy cuts you off, “No.”

Joel leans closer, mouth an inch away from yours as he parts his lips. “I killed for you,” You hate the way your body reacts to him, wanting to close the distance between you two despite how unsettled you feel. “Ian was a piece of shit, so was Tucker and Jacob. They don’t deserve your empathy, honey. And you can’t deny that you’re glad they’re gone.”

His hair is a delightful mess. Soft locks going in every direction. All you want to do is thread your fingers within and forget about all of this. Joel’s gaze is observant, dark eyes darting all over your face. You don’t know what he sees but whatever it is, he nods to Tommy for him to let you go and he does. Legs lifeless and shaking, he catches you, his warmth welcoming. He’s still tender with you. Hands delicate as they move over your arms, shifting you so you'll be facing Tommy.

Joel’s hand curls around your neck and holds your chin so you can’t look away. You can’t read Tommy’s expression. You’re not sure what he’s feeling. However, you think he looks almost relieved that you’re not fighting anymore.

You shudder as Joel drags his lips down your neck, taking deep breaths of your fear-induced scent. His hands slip under your shirt and cup both breaths, making you squeal. Your objection is short-lived when he brushes his thumbs over both nipples, awakening them with slow strokes.

Tommy’s gaze drops to your chest.

“He’s been watching you, you know,” Joel says. “When I had things to settle in town it was him who looked after you,” his voice drops, eyes observing his brother. “I think he deserves a bit of a show, don’t you think?”

The whimper you let out is enough for Tommy to meet your gaze curiously. Joel smiles into your skin and your eyes widen as he pulls out a knife—a different one from the one he used on Jacob, you realize with relief.

Your breath hitches as he slides the knife under your shirt and cuts your shirt clean from the middle, exposing you completely to his younger brother’s eyes. Sudden arousal pools between your legs and you clamp them together suddenly, the movement not unnoticed by either of them.

“You like it when my brother watches?” he asks loud enough for Tommy to hear. “You got a little crush on him too, sweetheart, hmm? Don’t worry, he’s always goin’ to be lookin’ out for you. That’s what family does after all.”

Your neck strains as Joel tilts your head suddenly, claiming your lips in a violent kiss. He doesn’t wait for you to part your lips for him and pushes his tongue into your mouth, licking the surprised sounds of pleasure right from your mouth. Your heart skips a beat. He presses the flat side of the knife against your warmed skin, the chill of metal settling in your bones.

When he parts away, a string of saliva connects you still. “You’re mine aren’t you?” Joel groans, lips moving over yours.

You nod in a daze and he smiles, “And I’m yours too,” he says.

Your eyes meet Tommy momentarily, the younger Miller’s lips twitch in a half smile. He doesn’t say a word as he closes the distance.

Tommy cradles your face tenderly, urging you to come close as he envelopes your lips with his own, taking you by surprise.

The kiss lacks the intensity compared to Joel’s. Tommy caresses your cheeks with both thumbs. You don’t even feel his tongue, it’s just a gradual movement of lips, a type of affirmation and comfort.

“You’re one of us now,” he says pressing his forehead against yours. You don’t know how to react or what to say and you end up just nodding, your hands fisting his shirt. Him, parting away from you almost feels painful but you’re not sure why. Tommy gives you a smile and Joel a nod before he leaves.

You and Joel stand like that for a while, in complete silence, bodies flushed together, knife still resting over your stomach.

“I only did what was right,” he breaks the silence. His tone isn’t one of asking for forgiveness or understanding. His arms tighten around you. “Are you afraid of me?” he whispers into your ear, the thick hairs above his lips tickling the shell of your ear.

You don’t answer him.

“You don’t need to be,” he continues. He allows you to move within his arms, you want to see his face, you need to see him to not fear for your life. You ignore the knife grazing your skin as you turn around, your bare front snug against his chest. “I’ll never hurt you. And you’re the only person in this whole damn town that can say that. You and Ellie.”

“What about Tommy?”

“Tommy’s priorities lay elsewhere.”

He doesn’t allow you to inquire further about what he means by that. All you can detect is a hint of anger that quickly dissipates when he claims your lips once more.

You’re lost in him. His tongue captures you in a way that makes you forget the blood on his clothes—on his hands. His tongue slides against your own, pressing until you’re moaning into his mouth, your knees faltering at the knife smoothing down your skin.

Before pushing you down to the ground, he takes off the shirt he cut in half completely off of you, your bra following the pile on the grass. Your breath hitches as he takes his place between your legs, his mouth devouring your neck, “Joel. . .” you moan, fisting his shirt and grinding up to feel at least a bit of friction.

A silent laugh seeps into your skin, his breath sending shivers up your spine, “Do you still feel bad for them?” he teases, laying a wet kiss between your breasts.

You don’t think much as you answer, “No.”

And as a reward, Joel closes his lips over a nipple, sucking hard until your breathing goes ragged.

“That’s my girl,” he groans, moving towards the other pebbled flesh. “You’re too good, too kind, but they don’t deserve that sweetheart.”

He hooks his fingers into your belt loops and tugs down your jeans, laving you with soft, ticklish kisses as he moves lower and lower. When you’re completely bare to him, you have the urge to cover yourself, the grass tickles your back and the wind feels colder now. Joel smiles and pulls your arms away. He lays the knife right above your stomach and your breath hitches.

“I want to taste you,” Joel says. “But not in the way you think, darlin’,” he kisses the sensitive skin right adobe your belly button, and brings the sharp edge of the knife to your skin. “I want to taste the life that pumps through your veins.”

Your eyes widen as he nicks you. It’s a small cut and blood beads at the wound instantly. He doesn’t allow it to gather enough so that’ll trickle down, he quickly presses his lips against it, your essence coating his tongue as he gives it a tender suck. You can the blood leaving your veins, a pleasant tingle echoing from the wound and spreading throughout your body. Your eyes flutter, a moan escaping your lips as he flattens his tongue against the cut and licks with board strokes.

“Fuckin’ delicious,” he rasps, pushing two fingers into you with ease. You gasp at the sudden stretch, your back arching into his touch. “So darn wet—All this for me, sunshine?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out, grinding down. “Joel, please—”

You hear the sound of his belt buckle coming undone, his breath heavy in your ear, “Since you asked so nicely, sweetheart, I’m obliged.”

You feel the head of his cock brush against your entrance, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. Your eyes close in anticipation and you whimper as he slowly slides inside you inch by inch. You can feel it, that intense fullness that can only come from him, taking his time to make sure it feels good. His size is intimidating but you feel yourself melting around him, eager and willing.

“That’s it. . . you’re takin’ me so well, such a tight little hole for me. Fuckin’ amazin’.”

He presses his forehead against yours, nipping at your bottom lip before thrusting, sending a wave of pleasure that makes your toes curl. You cling onto him for support as he pumps deeper and faster, hitting all the right spots. It takes neither of you long to climb the edge, ready to fall. You can feel the warmth of his breath, and his grip tightens on your hips. His pace quickens as the intensity builds, and you clench around him as he groans your name.

“Gonna come inside,” he slurs his words. “Gonna fill you up—shit—”

You can feel him throbbing and pulsing inside of you, his hard length contracting. As he pushes deeper into you, your insides flutter, squeezing around him. Your orgasm is ripped from you, shattering and mind-numbing. Your head spins and you cling to him, afraid that the world underneath you might slip entirely. His hot come warms you from the inside out, spilling from where his cock stretches you.

Joel remains inside until he starts to soften. He pulls out of you, leaving you feeling a longing ache deep within your core. You shudder as his come trickles down your thighs, your cunt clenching around nothing.

“Such a pretty sight,” he murmurs, entranced, as he gathers himself over his fingers and pushes it back inside you. “Try to keep as much as you can inside.” To emphasize his want for it, he slides your underwear up your legs.

You’re tied to him now. And even though you shouldn’t, you enjoy being the one near the beast. Joel helps you dress, at least helps you with what remains, and gives you his leather jacket to wear since your shirt is in ruins. Neither of you says a word as you walk back to where Jacob’s body rests. You help him bury the body, not feeling a single thing; no grief, no remorse, no sadness.

You always did have a complicated relationship with death after all.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #tlou fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic #hauntedhoedown

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finniestoncrane · 3 months ago

Note

HI FINNIE! 💚💗

I saw your post about feeling some type of way and honestly? Me too.

Could I request a soft/fluffy prompt with Gotham Riddler x Reader?

With 💣 from your Myriad of Kisses prompt list please!I I love how you write Riddler’s so I want you to have artistic freedom<3

Thank you💕

Gotham!Riddler x GN!Reader, word count: 650 💣 - a passionate, but angry, makeout session i would absolutely give him a big rotten smooch that had the power to break his beautiful little snoot if i was given the chance, perfect prompt for him!! 💚 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: lil bit of angst, angry smooches that turn to fluff!!

Edward clenched his fists nervously, tightening the grip on his thumb in his palm until he felt it tingle, then loosening up, then repeating. He had to focus on something, anything, except for the look on your face.

If he had known that telling you the truth would have been quite this awkward he would have perhaps given it a bit more thought. He'd planned and prepared, but there was no telling how you were going to receive the news that he'd given you, even for someone as clever as he was.

How do you confess to someone that you're a murderer? And how do you then admit that it's because you're concealing a whole other side of your true self from them?

Not easily. And not with any measure of pleasant acceptance, at least not at first. That was painfully obvious to Edward, as he watched you, his words sinking in, settling, hitting you. Your mind, your body even, going through the motions as you processed his unwarranted confession.

He hoped you would say something, anything. But when you did, it only made him worry further.

"You... Y-You... You, you, you... You..."

It was all you could get out, so instead of stuttering like a mindless fool any longer, you pressed your lips against his and opted to put them to use in a far better manner.

The force with which you kissed him knocked him back a little, but luckily, you were clinging to his shirt, white knuckle grip so tight as you tried to refrain from using your fists to pummel him instead. Edward had winced as your nose hit his, but he was quick to shut himself up, reminding himself to be thankful that a forceful kiss was seemingly the punishment for his admission and not something far more painful.

Even without the physical pain, there was a twang of emotional difficulty, upsetting confusion in his chest as he wrestled with the concept of not quite understanding why you had reacted this way.

Between the kisses, when you stopped to let him catch his breath or let his glasses de-fog, you could get out a few words, little jabs that let him know how hurt you were, despite the fact that you were clutching his shirt and kissing him with a passion he'd never really known.

"I can't believe you would keep that a secret!"

"Don't I deserve to know who you really are?"

"Can't I be trusted with your truths?"

"Why would you think you had to lie to me?"

There were so many questions, and he didn't quite have an answer for all of them, not a suitable one anyway, so he chose to tell the truth again.

"I was scared."

Pulling back from the kiss, you took a moment to look into his eyes, your gaze softening as you realised how pitiful he looked, how terrified he must have really been. Afraid of upsetting you, of scaring you, of losing you. It was hard to stay mad at him, as his big, wet eyes, magnified by his glasses, looked deep into yours for your comfort and forgiveness.

"Hm... It's hard to be mad at you, Ed. I appreciate you telling me, even if you're a bit late in doing so... And, if I'm being completely honest..."

He swallowed the lump in his throat, slender neck convulsing with nerves as he waited for you to break his heart, despite the kiss.

"... It's nice to know there's a dangerous side to you... It's kind of hot, actually."

"Really?"

His smile spread ridiculously wide, cheeks pushing his glasses upwards as he grinned towards you.

"Mhm... so you say... you choked one of them? Care to show me how?"

His lips parted in surprise, chest rising quickly and falling sharply as his heartbeat rose, a tingle in his fingertips, his nervous system, and a deeper stirring as he watched the way your eyelids closed softly and your body moved in to his own.

#finnie writes #riddler #the riddler #edward nygma #gotham #gotham riddler #gotham!riddler #gotham fox #x reader

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transmutationisms · 5 months ago

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(restrains myself from making this a leading question) what did you think of ellen's relationship with her father?

alright so first of all just to be clear about my like, immediate response to this film. at the very beginning, when there's that scene of ellen in the garden and she's being raped by nosferatu, but at first it's a physically pleasurable moment and then it cuts to orlok and she's horrified -- my immediate association there visually was to the scene in the twin peaks movie where laura being raped by bob/leland is filmed and edited in what i remember being very similar ways.

i don't really think eggers was probably drawing from that lol nor do i care, but i do actually think it's an illustrative comparison because these scenes are accomplishing a few similar things. for laura, seeing bob in leland defamiliarises her father, and conversely knowing that it's leland who's being piloted by bob also familiarises the demon. so much of the horror is carried by that tension between a man she's supposed to know, love, and trust, and a supernatural being who is violating her. analogously, ellen says that her initial encounters with nosferatu felt positive: she called out for love and companionship, and believed that's what she was getting until the violence was too escalated and undeniable, at which point she suddenly perceived nosferatu for what he was and became horrified not just at him but also at herself. i'd suggest that even though both these works textually portray rape as being perpetrated by an otherworldly element, there IS a legitimate reading in both as allegorically referring to father–daughter incestuous rape.

with nosferatu, much of this hinges on what i think eggers draws out pretty well re: the overlap between property ownership and patriarchal sexual ownership of wives and daughters. the line between buying a house and buying a woman is so blurred that thomas cannot tell the two acts apart when he goes to see orlok; it's ellen who pieces together the manner in which she is being traded from one man's household to another. indeed, the roles of husband and father are conflated and continuous throughout the film. after ellen's mother dies, she is the sole property of her father; it is in his emotional absence that she initially seeks out nosferatu, unknowingly, and although the childhood sequence is somehwat perfunctory, we can certainly read this as ellen seeking a replacement father figure who turns out to be simultaneously her rapist and her accursed betrothed. ellen dreams of her marriage to nosferatu in the guise of death, a vision in which he murders and thus replaces all other social and familial ties. we never even see ellen as anything but the property of a man—she goes from her father's household to hutter's, with the interlude where he essentially leaves her in custody of friedrich—and in these family structures, the type of property role that characterises the wife is always perilously close to that of the daughter. even when anna dies and is interred, she does so alongside her children, such that there is no functional difference between how friedrich grieves his wife and how he grieves his children.

additionally there is the fact that one of the few concrete details we know about ellen and her father is that he threatened/tried to send her to an asylum when he found her outside naked in conjunction with one of orlok's assaults. with the above in mind i think there are a few significant things to make of this detail:

again, it is specifically the implication that ellen has had sex—this is, has been sexually unfaithful to her nuclear family—that prompts this threat.

given that ellen first called to nosferatu because of the loneliness and misery she was experiencing, textually the rape she has been enduring is at least partially, or indirectly, caused by her father. in other words, he bears responsibility, as patriarch, for having made ellen hysterical (traumatised), and, when confronted with this fact in the flesh, can only respond by trying to pass her off to an even more repressive institution than the family—which fate, it is at least implied, she was spared specifically because meeting thomas temporarily stopped her 'fits'.

to her father's mind, ellen can be either a virginal bride, sound (pure) of mind, or she is defective and of a social underclass. in other words, the evaluation of ellen as a sexual possession runs continuously from her father to her husband to her husband's friend (who fears her presence is so contagiously corrupting as to threaten his own marital and filial property), and thru nosferatu the entire time.

arguably then this designation her father makes of ellen, her purity, and her 'defiled' body becomes an originary template for her subsequent intimate-partner relationships (where nosferatu's rapes are another such template, pertaining more specifically to her experience of sexual pleasure and desire). both thomas and friedrich later react to ellen with disgust and fear that mirror her father's; the only character who is steadfast at her side is anna, who is killed for it (and so also, in what is only barely the subtext of the vampiric act, raped).

i've already seen a few reviews that suggest eggers sees female sexuality in itself as the corrupting force here—i disagree, and i think paying more attention to the father/husband and daughter/wife roles here clarifies this. i think it's quite clear that the tragedy here is that ellen is someone who is not supposed to desire sex, even in the naïve and completely uninformed way of her childhood self, and is instead configured in her relationships to her father and husband/s as simultaneously a pure (white) object to be won and as an unruly (brunette) epileptic and hysteric. i still don't like the ending and wish eggers had changed it—but, i do think that what he was trying to accomplish there was to show ellen at last breaking from the daughter/wife position that demands she stifle all externally aimed desires, while also showing that in her social context, this break cannot happen without the definitive loss of her personhood in the form of actual death.

there is no escape valve for desire here—neither her joy at the dream of marrying death, nor her horror upon waking up from it, can save her—there is no way to configure the wife/daughter role as compatible with the 'deviant' desires that the role itself engenders, or the rape it enables/causes. in the grand scheme of this film, ellen and her father are a relatively tame example of violence, sexual and otherwise. but, the pattern and power differentials between them are both continuous and overlapping with the more 'extreme' or overt violence of the rest of the film.

#nosferatu

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bones4thecats · 1 year ago

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MC! Reader Returns and Reunites with Sebek

Type of Writing: Request (Added Part) Characters: Sebek Zigvolt Name: MC! Reader Returns and Reunites with Sebek Original Poll Link: Here Other Parts: Part One Tagged Requester: @twistedcece and @blues824

A/N: This part two to the original request made by the second tagged person above. This features a hint at the original piece, so I recommend, before you read this, go check out the first part that I linked above! Anyways, enjoy!

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

⚡ When you walked through that mirror all those years ago, Sebek went through so many emotions, emotions that he never thought he'd ever go through

⚡ Lilia eventually retired from being a member of the Briar Valley army and watched as Malleus was crowned King of Briar Valley and he applauded as Silver and Sebek graduated and became the personal guards of their new King

⚡ Even though he knew his grandfather, the person he looked up to the most, was happy for him, Sebek couldn't help but feel a large pang in his chest

⚡ You weren't there to celebrate with him...

⚡ Sweet Seven, why was he still thinking about you? It's been over three years, why were you the only thing that was on his mind during his rare breaks?

⚡ Sebek was walking alongside Silver as they stood right behind Malleus, as he was on his way to sit on his throne and discuss matters of borders with the new established leaders of the Queendom of Roses and the Shaftlands

⚡ Silver noticed his friend and co-workers un-easy behavior, and he gave him a light pat on the back

⚡ Even Malleus was kinda off that day for some mysterious reason

⚡ That morning, he had mentioned to Lilia and the two other knights that he felt a spurge of magical energy racing around the atmosphere for some reason, one that he couldn't answer

⚡ It was enough of a warning that prompted the guards to double on staff, leaving Silver and Sebek far more tired and busy than usual, but, they signed up for this

⚡ When the meeting finally ended, Malleus bid farewell to his fellow rulers as Silver and Sebek returned to their posts beside his throne

⚡ Malleus sat down and began to read a book that you had gifted him years ago, and he froze when the sound of a magical burst entered the room, prompting Sebek and Silver to hold their swords up, facing the portal with murderous glints in their eyes

" Child of man? " " Hey, you guys... long time no see, huh? "

⚡ Sebek froze in place as you stepped out, the portal closing behind you as Malleus hugged you, Lilia laughing as Silver smiled, patting your head in a welcome

⚡ You looked around and saw the familiar hair-cut of your long-time love, and when your eyes met across the room, Sebek began to tear up

⚡ You were here... standing right in front of him... now was his chance!

⚡ Walking up to your old friend, you smiled and rubbed your neck as tears threaten to spill from his eyes

" Hey Sebek... how have you be- "

⚡ Cutting you off mid-sentence, Sebek grabbed you by the waist and laid his lips against your's roughly, prompting Malleus to chuckle as the father-son duo took photos of the cute event

⚡ Allowing you both to take a breath, Sebek pulled away from your lips to lay his forehead against yours, his chartreuse eyes staring into yours

" I love you... I always have, Y/N. So please, please don't leave me again... "

⚡ Chuckling as you laid his head in your hands, you pressed a small peck to the half-fae's nose, your answer made every hateful thought of himself go flying out the window

" I will never, ever, leave you alone again, my dear. I love you, Sebek Zigvolt. " " And I you, my one and only. "

#Twisted Wonderland #Twst #Diasomnia #Night Raven College #NRC #Twst x Reader #Twisted Wonderland x Reader #Diasomnia x Reader #Night Raven College x Reader #NRC x Reader #F! Reader #GN! Reader #MC! Reader #Sebek Zigvolt #Sebek Zigvolt x Reader

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yanderes-galore · 2 months ago

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It's time for me to traumatize the obsession once again, everyone.

Prompts Here

Yandere! The Oni Prompts 6, 11, 24

"You can run away but I will always find you."

"You can’t deny me."

"You would look so gorgeous painted in their blood."

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Possessive behavior, Violence, Blood, Murder/Sacrifice, Sadism, Delusional behavior, Forced relationship.

It's the same thing as usual... but does it feel so different this time?

It's not like this was your first trial. You've been through countless before. You've seen your fellow Survivors be slaughtered many times. You've been hunted, sacrificed, felt the blood run down your skin...

You've even encountered The Oni before.

You didn't know his real name and you didn't care. To you, The Oni was simply another monster you had to run from. He's a feral beast who seemingly runs off pure rage.

However, recently, your trials with this beast have been strange....

Recently you're often saved for last. You're forced to watch your friends fall to his blade and club. The blood stains you and the ground... The Oni staring you down like a hellish creature.

This trial was a repeat of such an experience. One where you tried desperately to unhook your friends, to heal them and complete objectives. Unfortunately, The Oni has proven he can outsmart you once again.

Blood coats your skin. Some of it yours, most of it your friends. You're running on adrenaline, your greatest companion since you started these trials. You only have one thought in mind...

Find the hatch.

Pain courses through you but you're used to that by now. It didn't matter what you thought about it. It wouldn't go away.

Just like him.

You nearly trip over yourself when you hear a whisper in the distance. You run closer, hearing the familiar howl of wind.... The hatch, your salvation...

Is closed with the stomp of a foot, red eyes staring you down like the devil himself.

"You look so gorgeous painted in their blood."

His voice is akin to a deep growl, his club and blade dripping with the deep crimson of you and your friends. You realize this will be like last time....

He's planning to draw this out until The Entity claims you.

However, a weird sensation makes itself known to you. There's... something off this time. His tactic must be different...

There's no countdown.

You're quick to force yourself to run the opposite direction. There's only a few ways this can end. You doubt he's the merciful type.

You don't plan to find out.

"You can run away but I will always find you." The beast roars behind you. You no doubt sense he's activated his rage. It's his much faster form.

As you run, you come to the conclusion that his words are right. They always have been. With the hatch gone... You're a sitting duck.

Not only that... but as his bloodlust kicks in...

He'll be faster than you.

Even if you push yourself.

With another deep yet howling roar, you feel yourself hit. The club crunches into your legs, the sound making you nauseous as you skid across the mud. You can't move... forced onto the ground...

How many times have you ended up like this now?

The Oni is quick to approach, standing in front of your body. You see him lean down... pulling you up against his chest. It's deceptively caring...

You fear he'll snap your neck.

"My love... I do love our chases... but you always make me wait too long." The Oni growls, as if he's talking to someone other than you.

"You can’t deny me." He rasps, bloody hands caressing your face as though observing you through his mask. "I'm meant to be your love... I got rid of the rest so I can finally have you as mine again..."

You weakly listen to his rants, confused on how to respond... or if you even should. You don't understand him, you don't think you ever will.

He's a monster to you. Yet he treats you as though you and him are long lost lovers. You wonder what he sees...

You wonder why you're any different than your friends....

The Oni won't give you straight answers. You're just meant to put things together through his words. It's even stranger that The Entity has decided to humor him and his twisted courtship.

Does it just enjoy your suffering?

You were right... with the way the beast holds you, this is much different than your typical trial. You feel The Oni hold you tightly, muttering something in his home language as he treats you like a doll. You're precious to him...

But you don't know why.

"You're mine..." He hisses, grip bruising, "I will always find you... They'll never take you from me...."

It... doesn't matter, anyways.

Eventually, you'll bleed out when The Entity deems it enough. Yet for now, you're forced to watch the beast be in peace with his own delusions. You find it... calming in a hysterical way...

But it will end eventually... and you will repeat it all over again.

The Oni, however, finds himself oddly calm. In his mind, he's slaughtered heretic pretenders and came back home to his love.... He's been searching for you for a long time... and he always will.

For now, you're in his arms again... the love he's had for centuries. While you may not actually be them... he can't tell the difference. All he cares about is having his love in his arms... even if he covers them in blood...

You'll always be his...

He plans to remind you every time he finds you... perhaps soon, he can have the life he once lost.

#yandere dead by daylight #yandere dbd #yandere the oni #yandere kazan yamaoka

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sleepy-grav3 · 8 months ago

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Obsessions

More of a ramble, but it could be taken as a prompt. Closer to a headcanon though.

Tw: swears, bad lab safety, murder (Dan's human half)

So you guys know how Danny's obsessions is either space, protection, or both of them? Well if it had to do with protection, what happened with Dan?

Obsessions are more of a ghost thing. His humanity was killed with his human half? What if that wasn't it?

Protection is actually a much wider spectrum. It doesn't just have to do with protecting someone else, but also yourself.

Getting rid of Dan's human half got rid of his morality, his humanity, the hero in him.

What if it also mutated his Obsession?

A lot of people like to call his obsession violence, maybe even family for a select few. But I think it should be Safety.

Yes, safety is basically synonymous with protection, but there are differences apparently. I'm more focused on differentiating them though. It just helps separate Danny and Dan's obsessions from each other to avoid misunderstandings.

But point is- what if Dan's obsession is actually about protecting himself? What if his obsession is keeping himself safe?

When he got separated from his human half, it was because his human half wanted him gone. There must've been some underlying part of Ending him, killing him, really making sure he was gone. And Dan would know. He was just the same mind as the other half before the separation took place.

So to keep himself safe, to protect himself, he killed off his human half. He knew how smart they were. You can't live with scientists, modifying their inventions to become less lethal, without learning a thing or 2.

And then there was Vlad. He was strong. The human half of him was what made Danny so durable, as he was resistant to anti-ecto equipment thank to that. Which meant Dan was weaker now and Vlad could easily avenge that Danny or take control of Dan. That's not even mentioning that he was only half a being.

So he stole Plasmius and fused, overpowering the other. Then becoming Dan and all that.

But then the whole world was still against him, with the GIW and all that (I don't know if they were introduced by then, but let's just imagine they were). They were a threat. The people hating him could all grow a pair and make weapons if they tried hard enough, so they were a threat.

So he killed them.

Then the time shenanigans came in and he met his younger self. That would obviously mess with reality somehow. Enough that he'd disappear. So he went to save himself by trying to make the same events happen to Danny.

It would make sense. So yeah. Dan's obsession is Safety in my opinion.

Maybe in a redemption arc, he protects his family (he won't admit that he thinks of them like that) because it'll affect his mental and emotional heal. He's trying to save himself from heartache of losing someone else.

Did you think that was it? Hell no. Let's continue with Vlad.

I bet his obsession is family. Obvious enough, but yeah. He considers Danny his son, Maddie his wife. No idea why he ignores Jazz despite her looking much more similar to Maddie than Danny.

Like- yeah, Danny is the one with ghost powers. But Jazz has the looks, specifically the hair. idk, I feel like he should obsess more for her.

"She has my eyes" not really "and Maddie's hair" yep.

That type of thing. He's delusional enough in the show.

Then there's Elle/Ellie/Dani. Obvious and agreed upon enough: Freedom.

But what about Jazz?

What if she became a halfa or considered liminal enough for an honorary obsession?

I'd think hers would be stability. She wants everyone to be ok, normal, and she's canonically a control freak. Sure, hers could be control, but I feel like she isn't much in the controlling thing.

Psychology, for example, is seeking stability and recovery. Recovery doesn't work much because I don't see her fretting over paper cuts or anything like that. But I bet she wants a break for everyone. and everything would be fine if everything went the same. Was normal. Was stable and not out of control like a government branch trying to commit war crimes and mass genocide.

This could probably be put differently. Maybe a different word, but I feel like this fits? Idk, maybe I'm not explaining this right, but this is technically a ramble.

Oh! And this makes sense if Jazz is the halfa. "I'll make sure everything stays the same" Everything becomes stable. There's still a problem, but as long as it's dealt with accordingly, it's ok.

Completely off topic, but there's this artist that draws Jazz as Jazz Phantom with blue hair and I think an orange headband and she's SO pretty like that. I almost want to get back into art to draw fanart with that now stuck in my head. She's just so PRETTY! she's pretty as a human too but- just- I love the blue hair. I love the idea in general. Made me get to the point of actively simping for Jazz and not just being a fan-

Anyway!

Jazz's obsession is stability.

and the Fenton Parents are just plain crazy. They have stuff to block out ectoplasm, right?

They still show skin. They still breathe in air with ambient ectoplasm in it.

What the fuck is their obsession called? Is it shared? Is it the same?

Are their kids part of it?

I'm not sure. Oh shit-

What the fuck would their obsessions be???

Just ghosts?

It could be but it could be more.

It could be so much more.

I bet Wes was hanging around Danny so much that he became liminal enough to get an honorary obsession. Sam and Tuck too.

Wes - Exposing the Truth

Sam - Save the Earth

Tuck - Technology

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slashingdisneypasta · 2 years ago

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Spotify Wrapped Prompts !

Sorry it took me a week!! 😅 But here they are, for those of you who requested in the comments section ^^ (Those of you who requested in the ask box, I will answer you individually cuz its just easier ^^ )

Some are much longer then others. Some are just sentences. Its just whatever came to mind regarding to song! And no, I'm not giving you the song XD Just a line or two. If you wanna do sleuthing that's your prerogative but its mostly country and I know that's not everyone's cuppa tea 😅😅😅 Without further ado- here we go!

Included down below; Professor Ratigan (3), Judge Claude Frollo (6+7), Bill Sykes (13), Percival C McLeach (14), Wheezy Weasel (39), Hades (66) and Jafar (77).

3. Professor Ratigan Prompt 🎶'If you go down, I'm goin' down too'🎶

"You are my husband. If you go down, I go down with you. There are no if's and's or but's about it."

"My dear... That's not going to happen."

"I know- I know." Do you? You should, because he's so smart and you trust him, but still there's a nagging itch in the back of your mind telling you that one of these days one of these things is gonna fail. Taking a deep breath, you squeeze his hands in yours. "I just... want you to know."

With one of those dark and sinister smirks on his face, Ratigan gives you a kiss on the forehead; speaking lowly only to you. "Then we'll go down together, hmm? Two burial plots side-by-side~ "

6. Judge Claude Frollo Prompt (Fem Reader) 🎶'Jezebel, you're bound for Hell.'🎶

You're a woman who murdered her father's lover (You couldn't bear for your mothers heart to be broken) and find yourself under the judgment of one Judge Claude Frollo.

Will he send you to the gallows for your crime? Maybe not, if you keep flirting with him from across the courtroom.

Bat your eyelashes, Smirk those pretty lips, Make sure he gets a good look at your legs when you shift in your chair, do all these things in order to survive. Maybe you're only doing it to survive, maybe you actually like it. The way he looks at you.

7. Judge Claude Frollo Prompt 🎶 'Don't lie, I know you think about it in the back of your mind' 🎶

You're just a secretary in the office and the judge has made it quite clear what he wants from you. You refused him steadfast, of course, because you have dignity. And you're saving yourself.

But you cant stop thinking about it. What it might be like to say yes.

You know perfectly well that you shouldn't but with every day that goes by, your resolve grows thinner and thinner.

13. Bill Sykes Prompt 🎶'Thirty-one, waiting tables. She has They have a voice of an angel. Out of money and power. She only sings in the shower'🎶

You were working a dead-end job, living a dead-end unloved life until Bill Sykes walked into the diner you wait at. He walked in at the stroke of 4 in the afternoon, when you were supposed to leave- so, you weren't happy about it that day but had to go help him.

It was a curse at the time but now he has you singing at beautiful clubs and you have a penthouse and you don't have to wait anymore. People love you.

And yes he scares you sometimes- but the terrible man can be undone by your voice.

14. Percival C McLeach Prompt 🎶'I like em unavailable; guess that's just me.'🎶

You have a long history of going for the Wrong Guy. They're wrong because they're always taken already, a fact you only discover after the fact.

Now here's this guy- a rugged Australian guy from the middle of the outback. He's older and kindof uneducated and kind of brash but he always takes his hat off when he talks to you and opens doors for you, and... you're developing feelings for him.

He's completely not your type- you don't think he's ever dated before, and he definitely wouldn't have the sense of subtlety to pull off cheating. He wants you to be his one and only.

He thinks you're amazing. He thinks you're smart, funny, interesting, and beautiful. You feel kind of... greedy... finally having someone who just wants you.

But you're gonna make the jump. Whatever happens, happens. But at least this one truly wants you.

39. Wheezy Weasel Prompt 🎶'It's genius It's gonna be awfully rough on those children'🎶 This one's a little different! You got a Newsies Song, The Bottom Line (My favourite) so I- obviously- had to do something sticking with that theme XD

NewsiesAU!

Imagine you're in the position of Joseph Pulitzer's secretary (Hannah's character). You only got this job to be a help to the Toon Patrol (Wheezy, especially ^^). In this position you could easily sway the writing in the papers in the patrols favour, striking out any bad press. Yes, they would still get a bad reputation via word of mouth but it would be unofficial. Good notoriety in the papers would at least offer them some mystique.

This is hard enough on you. You hate deceiving people. You hate what the Toon Patrol do! But you love Wheezy, and you have to help him.

When Joseph bumps up the price of the papers, making life so so much more difficult for the newsies- the poor children, - to do their jobs and earn enough money to even feed themselves- you go home overwhelmed and in tears.

Wheezy's there to gather you in his arms and glare at Smartass when he sighs at you (How silly you are (Its just business)). He never wanted you to do this job! He never wanted you to be apart of this crap.

And now here you are sobbing because you're so stressed out and so sad- and- he's gotta get you out of this. He will get you out of this.

66. Hades Prompt 🎶'Dressed to kill'🎶

Imagine being a indebted servant to Hades along with Meg except you don't do a whole lot of the... communications work, that Meg does. So you don't have to look as nice all the time. You're often in the underworld with Hades helping him strategize and doing paperwork-type stuffs. You're closer with Hades then Meg is but it has never been a flirty thing, with you two. Just friendly. He's grown to actually like you- he's happy when you're around- you can calm him down when he's starting to lose his temper.

And honestly you like him, too. Despite the indenture. Somehow.

One day by some miracle Hades is in such a good mood, he lets you and Meg go for the day. You can do whatever you like but be back by sunset or he'll be pissed.

So you take the opportunity to wear something prettier then usual! Why not??

... When Hades sees you both leaving, that's when the penny finally drops.

He loves you.

How the hell did this happen!??-

77. Jafar Prompt (Fem Reader) 🎶'He don't know it 'cause I sure don't show it. When I kiss him goodbye and I wish him good luck'🎶

You try so hard to hide it; pretend like you're the perfect wife and you have no secrets. When you kiss your husband goodbye before you separate for the day, him going to the kitchens to work and you to laundry rooms, you look like the perfect young couple.

No one expects a thing.

Except you're truly being courted by a tall, dark, devastatingly handsome man you cant tell a soul about. And your husband, likewise, has a gentleman of his own to hide.

At night Jafar will meet you in the gardens where no one but the princess and the Sultan are allowed to roam, except they're asleep when you slip by. You're all his then and, truly, you're all his all the other hours in a day.

And he's all yours ^^

-But you cant tell a soul.

These are all Free to Use if you want ^^ Please tag me if you do use them! I so so wanna read them! ^^

Thank you so much for participating! ^^

#Spotify Wrapped Prompt Event #Spotify Wrapped x Reader #Spotify Wrapped x Fanfiction #Jafar x reader #Disney Jafar x reader #Hades x reader #Disney Hades x reader #Wheezy Weasel x reader #Percival C McLeach x reader #Bill Sykes x reader #Sykes x reader #Judge Claude Frollo x reader #Frollo x readeer #Professor Ratigan x reader

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notmorbid · 8 months ago

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those who leave... [2/2]

dialogue prompts from those who leave and those who stay by elena ferrante.

you abandoned me in the most terrible period of my life.

couldn't you be more cautious?

i have to say what i think.

we have to examine our relationship and take stock.

you see what sort of life i have? are you pleased?

we're still children. we'll never grow up.

i envy you. lucky you.

it isn't the type of story for you.

you've never been interested in what i was, what i've become.

it's like a spaghetti western.

i've given you the chance to hurt me as much as possible.

why are you crying? i should be crying.

i'm glad you told me. i swear.

i'm too certain that you can do better. i want you to do better.

who am i if you're not great? who am i?

you've helped me since we were children.

without you, i'm not capable of anything.

i had prepared a positive speech. imagine --- i wrote it. i wanted to make a good impression.

you think you're so great, but everything you are, you owe to your father and mother.

i don't want to draw conclusions too hastily.

you don't love me. you've never loved me.

i don't deserve you.

i would have liked to be like you.

you'd better believe you're dead and you don't know it.

i want to remember you as you were.

i want you to see me as i am now. it's important to me.

____ would never disappear like that.

you went to the police?

the police are more fascist than the fascists.

will you do me this favor or not?

without you, i wouldn't be able to do it.

call me when you want, and i'll come running.

sit down. have a coffee and a pastry.

i've never been able to figure out what's in your mind.

what else does 'everyone' say?

i mind my own business, and you mind yours.

you always have to interfere.

here, people are murdered for a thousand reasons.

what in the world are you doing around here?

speak. otherwise, i will.

ever so often, you remember we exist.

i still think of you as a magical child.

what do you want to prove?

we're good folk here.

your flaw is that you like to talk. and when you talk, you have to exaggerate.

now do you understand the game? you remember how it works?

you have something alive in your mind that no one else has. something strong.

have you ever been in an airplane?

above the clouds, there is always fine weather.

what you have, you deserve. you got it with hard work. without hurting anyone.

where have we ended up?

i wouldn't be capable of hating you.

love, for me, comes before everything.

in the fairytales, one does what one wants. in reality, one does what one can.

you make me mad, and i say things i don't like.

speed consumes everything. as when photographs come out blurry.

i came out blurry. without clear outlines.

what happens to us all? we're like pipes when the water freezes.

you don't want to understand me.

you must be very busy.

i hate men who are too intelligent and tell me how i should be.

put it in writing, what you've said.

you're really a good girl. poor you.

you have to learn to be satisfied with yourself.

like everyone, you have your flaws and your virtues.

would you really let me read it?

let me decide if it interests me or not.

i feel like a drop of rain in a spiderweb.

you are the best and nicest person i've ever known.

eat. it's getting cold.

[name] doesn't care what i do or what i want.

what do i care about you and your pettiness?

you are extremely intelligent and stupid.

who asked you to open my eyes? to save me?

why not write each other? exchange ideas?

everything that could happen between us has happened. the rest is only complication.

you're good at hiding things from yourself.

come back. swear you'll come back.

tell me you won't forget me. tell me you won't leave me.

tell me you love me. swear that it's not a lie.

on principle, i don't say 'i love you' to anyone.

can't i have a day off?

you've had a full life without me.

you'll forget about me before you know it.

i'll go mad if i go on thinking of you.

jealousy is too much. i can't bear it.

not one of my true desires has ever prevailed.

i have always found a way of channeling every yearning.

enough. let it all explode. me, first of all.

you pretend a lot, and love little.

how inopportune you are.

luck counts more than anything.

in the face of abandonment, we are all the same.

those are false memories, and you know it.

do you understand what you've done to me?

you think it's easier for me, but it's an inferno here.

don't think that i'm not in as much trouble as you.

you and i together are stronger than anyone else.

how out of order everything is.

i don't feel like talking to you.

it's frightening here. you can't even breathe.

you're the only person i trust.

i'm leaving. i'm starting a new life.

whatever happens, i'll go with you.

i was wrong. you're a fool.

don't ever concern yourself with me again.

let me make my own mistakes.

something great is happening that will dissolve the old way of living entirely.

are you happy?

#rp meme #rp memes #sentence starters #ask memes #ask meme #inbox memes #historical meme

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mimisempai · 1 year ago

Text

Mine

Summary

When the florist attends his first Whickber Street shopkeepers' meeting, he discovers that the bookseller can be a bit possessive. Not that he minds.

Notes

50 Types of Kisses - Writing Prompts

Kiss #15: A fierce kiss that ends with a bite on the lip, soothing it with a lick

On Ao3

Rating T - 980 words

Aziraphale listened politely to Mr. Brown's self-congratulatory monologue, wishing only to join Crowley at the other end of the room. He forced himself to maintain a dignified demeanor, but couldn't help but cast murderous glances in the direction of the man who was chatting with Crowley in a manner he found far too friendly.

Until he couldn't contain himself any longer.

He politely apologized to his interlocutor, pretending to need to speak to someone else, before moving toward the two men.

Crowley obviously saw him approach and couldn't keep a small smile from forming on his lips in Aziraphale's direction. Apparently, his interlocutor took this as an attempt at rapprochement, for he moved even closer to Crowley, placing a hand on his forearm.

Aziraphale joined them in three steps and, ignoring the other man, said to Crowley in his most charming tone, "Sorry to keep you waiting, my dear."

The other man exclaimed excitedly, "Ah, you're just in time, Mr. Fell, I was about to..."

"Remove your hand from my partner's arm at once, I presume," the bookseller continued with a calm demeanor and a fake friendly smile on his lips.

The man, looking puzzled, exclaimed, "What?

Aziraphale, still with the same smile on his lips, repeated between clenched teeth, "Remove your hand from my partner immediately."

The other 'man finally understood and quickly removed his hand before stammering, "Uh... I'm sorry.... I'm going... Have a nice evening."

Aziraphale followed him with a murderous stare for a few moments until the man was out of sight, when a slight chuckle caused him to turn to Crowley, who shook his head.

The bookseller raised an eyebrow, "What?"

The florist replied, still smiling, "Oh nothing, he's the new owner of the newsagent's and you really scared the poor man when all he wanted to do was talk to you. So much so that I'm the one who could have been jealous."

Aziraphale grumbled with a frown, "That's not what I saw."

Crowley put his hand on his arm and whispered so only Aziraphale could hear, "I don't blame you. Besides, you're really hot when you get possessive like that. "

Aziraphale put an arm around Crowley's waist to pull him closer and kissed his cheek gently before whispering in his ear, "Of course I get possessive when I see someone trying to take what's mine."

Crowley chuckled softly before he brought his lips close to Aziraphale's ear and replied, "For someone to steal me from you, I'd have to let them. Which isn't going to happen. "

Aziraphale didn't know if it was the whisper in his ear, Crowley's words, or both that made him shudder the most, but he decided that the shopkeepers' meeting was over for tonight.

He replied to Crowley, "Let's get our coats and go."

Crowley countered, "But this is my first shopkeepers' meeting, do you think I..."

Aziraphale shook his head, "Crowley, everyone is full of praise for you and your flower shop, so unless you want me to do something indecent in the middle of this room - which would be far more damaging to your reputation - we'll go now."

Crowley laughed lightly and took Aziraphale's hand as they made their way to the coat rack under the envious gaze of the man who had just spoken to Crowley. He realized then that he'd never had a chance with either of them. As he watched the florist help the bookseller into his coat with gestures that conveyed deep intimacy, he sighed in disappointment and went to get another drink.

Moments later, Aziraphale and Crowley walked through the bookshop door together, and no sooner had it closed than the bookseller pulled the florist toward him, pressing him against one of the columns in the center of the bookshop before capturing his lips in a fierce kiss that caught Crowley off guard.

But despite the surprise, the florist was quick to return the kiss with equal intensity as Aziraphale ran his fingers through the red hair, unraveling the bun as he pulled the florist's face even closer to deepen the kiss.

Later, when they parted slightly to catch their breath, Crowley, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, managed to say between gasps, "Hmm, I think I'll make you jealous more often if it means being kissed like this."

He didn't have time to finish before the bookseller had crushed his lips to his again for another passionate kiss. The kiss lasted until Aziraphale finally broke it, moving to pull away. But the florist would have none of it, and playfully took the bookseller's lower lip between his teeth, biting it before releasing it slowly, soothing the bite with a soft flick of his tongue.

Then they remained entwined in the middle of the bookshop for many minutes, forehead to forehead, panting until they caught their breath.

Then Crowley lifted his hand and gently stroked his thumb across Aziraphale's lips where he'd bitten and said softly, "You know you have no reason to be jealous. I'm yours, body and soul, and the one who could separate us is not yet born."

Aziraphale kissed Crowley's thumb on his lips before he replied softly, "I don't know what came over me, but seeing him put his hand on you like that. I'm... I'm sorry..."

Crowley shook his head, "Don't be. I'll be honest, I don't think I would have acted any differently if the situation were reversed."

Aziraphale replied, "Then just in case, know that I am too. Yours. Body and soul."

Crowley smiled, then slid his hand from the bookseller's cheek to the nape of his neck before leaning in to press his lips to Aziraphale's in a kiss that was devoid of the fierceness of the previous ones, but whose passion was the same, and in which each told the other, better than with words, that they belonged to each other.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story 🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable kisses series : here

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here

The florist and the booksellers series : here

#good omens #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #ineffable boyfriends #aziraphale #crowley #good omens fanfiction #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #50 kisses #human au #alternate universe #flower shop

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helpme695 · 10 months ago

Note

Hello, hello,Hello,my dear!!

I saw that you were a brand new blog with barely any writings and that you wrote for IDV,so i HAD to jump on the occasion,you see?

Allow me to introduce myself (as this is most likely not the last time you will be seeing me!), I am Nina (or Weewoo!),self proclaimed platonic asker!

And I am here to humbly ask for headcanons (or a one shot,i don't know which one you prefer,but I'd be happy with both!!) For Jack the Ripper (except if you don't write for him,which i understand,He IS based off a real murderer...if you don't write for him,I'd love some Antonio! But I'd prefer Jack :3 or both if you're interested Or if you prefer to choose other than those two,that's okay!!) with a child!reader (platonic ofc) that loves all types of art? Like they like listening to music while drawing- sure they're not the best,since they're still learning,but they show their art to them when they're proud of it? And they give the Hunter(s) drawings of them?? They're just a small cutie that gives drawings to people?

Thank you for reading! I hope you like this prompt and enjoy writing it!! Remember to drink,eat and take breaks,Hun!

Stay proud,

-Nina <3

Helloooooooo Nina :D I'm glad to have you in my silly blog :) I hope you will enjoy it in the future <) I wrote for both of them since I like Antonio ^_^ I'm sorry for taking quite a lot to answer ;-; it will happen again if I continue with this writing style </3.

I didn't dive too much about child thing, so you can take it as an adult or little kid. Either way, it's definitely platonic. Oh and it mostly seemed gender nature sooo :)

Aaa i just did reader give art to these 2 lol , sooo yah </3 sorry for my mistakes

Both of them are not that experienced with children because of their backgrounds. Antonio is busy drinking his favorite wines and playing masterpieces for the nobles, and god knows what else. As for Jack, he's just being, well... Jack. :)

they don't mind children that much; it depends on their mood. Mostly, they act like 'the cool uncles'.

However, Jack is not as fond of babysitting as Antonio. He thinks there are better options, like Michiko or Leo! Or maybe, why not play with people your age? Robbie and Memory would be happy to have you around.

They recognize your unique and diverse interests in various forms of art, which is uncommon even among adults.

Sometimes, they will simply watch you to see what you are best at. That way, they could buy you something nice related to it. Of course, they would support you in other forms, as well. They just figure that if you are great at something specific, it means you love it the most.

Now, let's talk about each one :D

Antonio:

It's not unusual to find him friendly in matches if he's in the mood. A simple, goofy mistake was all it took to make this weird-haired noodle crack up (thanks to Tracy's terror shock and Martha's failed flare gun rescue).

You participated in this match. All of you were having fun in Moonlit River Park.

After this match, everyone said their goodbyes and left to do their own thing. You, on the other hand, felt you wanted to appreciate him more. So, you got yourself comfortable, put on your favorite music (or headed to the composer to listen to him), and started drawing. It didn't take you long to finish it, so you borrowed some clay from Galatea to make a small version of him. It turned out messy. Nevertheless, you colored it. Your paper drawing turned out better than your little clay Antonio, but it still looked adorable.

You would know if he's in his room by his usual violin playing. And today was no exception. You knocked on his door softly, and the long-haired man heard it. Which makes sense since he's hard to hide from.

"Come in,"

And with that, you slipped past his door. You were greeted with his usual creepy smile and a couple of bottles of booze around his desk.

"Hello (name), I thought you were tired from the last match. Especially for a little one like you. Do you want to listen to my latest work later? I suggested Mr. Kreiburg and I do a musical performance together for the upcoming season."

You didn't say anything, just smiling at him as you got closer, and so did Antonio's curiosity.

"Is there something on your mind you would like to tell me, (name)?"

He crouched down to meet your height, still looming over you. You smile only brighten when you got excited to show your work to him. Behind your back, you emerged two artworks of him. His eyes lingered on what your hand was holding before he took them.

The drawing was of him ballooning Tracy and holding you with his hair, while what seemed like a sad Martha with her gun, and Forward way back running at him.

And then he looked at your small clay sculpture. His hair looked like overcooked pasta and worms coming out of it, with some black coloring. implies you are still new to shaping.

You were overjoyed just looking at how his smile widened even more than it already was. You felt his eyes leave your art and look at your face. He honestly didn't know what to be happy about. Was someone actually spending time doing something wholesome for him? Or was it the sound of your laughter echoing in his room with the big smile of yours?

He placed your work on his desk and gently guided you with his hand to his embrace.

"I know you have undeniable talent, and I want to admire it and make sure nothing disturbs it. Today, you illuminated my heart with your caring light, crafting something priceless. I thank you for your gift, and if it was for that silly match, it's nothing compared to your kindness."

He patted your head for a few seconds and then stood up tall.

"As much as I like spoiling you with my masterpieces, you have to go to sleep. Ms. Dyer won't be happy finding you out of bed.

He placed his hand gently behind your back and guided you to his door. You were kind of disappointed; you don't like how Doctor Emily makes children go to bed so early. Nevertheless, you didn't complain. He didn't close his door yet, so you kept waving, saying your goodbyes and sweet dreams before your little form disappeared when you went downstairs.

He closed his door gently and went to his desk, which now held booze, paper art, and a mini clay Antonio. He stared at them for... what? Seconds? Minutes? He didn't care. Your pure soul made his usual lonely night better, and thanks to you, you gave him inspiration for his next musical piece.

⊱⋅ ──────────── ⋅⊰

He will cherish your gifts and art; they brightened his room and made him feel less empty.

I like to think he will force Joseph to take pictures of them and him together.

He's your number 1 supporter and fan of your work. Hell, even if it's horrendous, he'll be damned if he ever THINKS it's bad. He might as well show it to everyone and threaten anyone who says otherwise.

Despite many people and nobles gathering around him for his matchless skill, he appreciates you because you do what you want with pure intentions. He doesn't need to bother thinking about your actions (unless something is very odd), and you see him as someone to trust. Which is sometimes a bad idea because, you know... the devil thing.

He did consider having a child before, but he knows he would be an awful father. Having you around, not taking up all his time or responsibility of taking care of you, yet still filling that void, made him drink less than usual.

Jack:

If you are interested in the art of music, you just so happen to have the most skilled violinist in the whole world next door, and you might even catch him happily holding a small violin for you. Now, get ready for waking up every Friday to Monday at 6 a.m. for a teaching course. Will he make you as amazing as him? No. But you'll surely come close to amazing.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°••°•°•°•°•°•

He likes to go to the manor garden, especially at night, because he likes his "own alone" time. He is known for being mysterious, sadistic, and moody, so most survivors keep you distance from him, usually the women. You always wonder why; he's not that "bad," as you think. He even carries your teammates in bride style, and likes to joke around in serious, stressful matches at the end of the day. And very polite gentleman.

So curious about him, you asked the hunters you trust when he usually comes to the garden, and then you decided to do your activities in it, hoping to see him today.

You painted, grafted, shaped, played music, listened to music, and even helped Emma water the whole garden. You spent almost 3 hours just hoping he would show up before your match schedule start. And just when you were about to give up-

"Helloooo there, little child. I must say you know where and when to pick the most perfect time for a suitable experience."

You turned around to see the very man you waited for, Jack the Ripper, outside the matches and in the open? You must be lucky. A smile rose on your face as you greeted him.

"It's great to see you too. I hope you don't mind me bothering you with my presence."

You watched him as he went further into the garden, chatting with Emma for a few moments. You wanted to speak to him, but you didn't exactly know how. So all you did was paint one specific flower that you liked and show him. Maybe it wouldn't be so awkward.

In a good 10 minutes, you finished, and while you admired your art piece and prepared to show it to him, he was already bent down beside you to judge.

"Hmmm..... very impressive, I do notice improvements in your details. But I fear there is something off about it."

You looked between him and the painting, figuring out what was missing. After a long silence, he finally stated.

"You don't have any idea how to light and shadow a flower, do you?"

You shook your head, saying you did what felt right.

"I do like to believe this statement as well, but sometimes there are better ways, especially when you can improve it much better. Here, give me your brush."

You hand him your brush as he takes your place, watching him work his magic on your art piece and fixing any mistakes. He makes sure to tell you where you messed up.

You were surprised, to say the least. You ask him if he's an artist, but he shatters your little heart when he says he stopped being one a long time ago. For you, you did feel frustrated, angry, and sad, however. You didn't give up on your journey, even on days you wanted to pull your hair out.

A thought crosses your mind. A white lie. You tell him you don't know how to paint certain things and would like him to teach you. He remains silent after your explanation, which creeps you out.

He knows you're lying, but it's not harmful, and he understands why. However, teaching you to paint? Out of all the requests, he prefers bring you the supplies you need.

"Hm... I asked too much. Would you mind if I left for a few minutes?"

You only nod, and he takes off. You felt guilty. Maybe you shouldn't have asked him; maybe you missed your chance.

20 minutes passed, and he still didn't show up. Yep. Might as well cry a bit tonight.

You gathered up your things, only your paints and canvas left. Once you collected them, you heard a familiar violin playing inside the manor. You decided to stay a bit to listen to it before you leave. You wondered if it was a stupid decision. You could just ask the hunters and survivors if you really wanted to know more about him.

"Fascinating, is it? Antonio's violin charms everyone to enjoy the moment, as if they are just puppets he controls."

Jack almost gave you a heart attack, but you forgot about it very quickly when you noticed him holding different types of objects—a bunch of paints and canvases.

"I did say I would leave you for a few minutes. You should learn be more patient. Anyway, sorry for taking your time. That da Vinci boy wasn't pleased to see me."

He placed the canvases and objects in the proper way before asking you to take your place.

"You are a very talented child. Your previous request was too silly to believe, so I brought things rather difficult to test you out and sharpen your skills."

And he wasn't joking when he said it would be difficult. At least he was more patient and easygoing than (da Vinci young boy).

One hour before the matches started, he decided you had had enough for today. He was focused on drawing small sculpture. So you took a chance to draw something.

Just when he finished his painting, you quickly told him you had to get ready for your matches, then left so fast, leaving one standing canvas behind. Before he could call you out about it, you were already far gone. So he let out a sigh and mumbled something about children these days.

He gathered all the stuff and went to your canvas as well, only to see a full drawing of a person.

It was him, focused on his own painting, with many red and blue roses around him. You almost made him seem like an innocent art teacher who loves nature. And well... one or two of those is true.

He couldn't help but admire it. How you pictured him in your head, how clueless you are about him, almost making him pity you.

If it weren't for Emma coming back because she's forgot something and noticed him, he would be quite late for his match. Not that he would have a problem with it; he would rather watch the painting dry so he can take it to his room later.

⋅ ──────────── ⋅

Nobody truly knows him, especially with how his personality switches so fast, but when he's in a "normal" state, he does feel guilty about... everything. He would rather meet you outside this game, an artist teaching young people how to draw. Yeah, that would be much better than being "Jack the Ripper."

I'm sorry, but he can't really promise to help you with drawing; he doesn't enjoy it anymore. But he can give you tips and bring you what you're missing.

He tried to learn other forms of art but changed his mind too quickly when he failed miserably. No, he would rather sleep underground to have someone guide him.

High chance he would take your artwork and study it, did you improve? How much? Was it easy or hard? How did you feel when you finished it? He can tell more about it. And he usually comes up and tells what he thinks about it and what to improve (if you want, of course). He hopes that one day, you will beat your fellow artist survivors.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°••°•°•°•°•°•

♡

Hi hello I want to bury myself :3 I seriously need to buy a novel book or smth because I feel stupid using simple words lmao 💀 #help

Anyway Have a nice day :D

#answered #request #idv x reader #idv x you #idv jack #idv antonio #i need to get my shit together #im kinda tired #identity v x you

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rjthirsty · 8 months ago

Text

I had this idea to make these mini conversations between characters relating to key events in Kasey's life (my IkePri OC). Implied CSA and child abuse. Please be aware.

“Roderic?” Kasey looked up from their embroidery to regard the strange man who sat on their couch.

Roderic glanced up from his book to turn his attention towards his child charge. “Your Imperial Highness?”

“Why is it you wear that hood and cloak indoors?”

Roderic was silent, contemplating how to answer such a question.

“It makes you look abnormal. You garner too much attention. You'll attract the wrong types looking like that.” Kasey repeated words said to them by their caretaker.

“...What are the wrong types?” He asked the eight-year-old.

“Probably ones that want to hurt you or make you unhappy.” Kasey went back to poking their needle into their framed cloth with a shrug.

“Kassandra, I'm Walter. I'm a physician, do you know what that is?” The curly red-haired man squatted to put himself on Kasey's level.

“Of course I do. I'm not sick, though, so I think this is unnecessary.” Kasey warily eyed Walter.

“That's good to hear, but we want to keep you that way. Have you had an examination before?”

“I don't believe so. I haven't been taught what that is.” The young girl shifted where they stood, clasping their hands together nervously.

“You and I are going to do some tests to see how your body works. There's nothing to be nervous about.” Walter assured them.

“I understand.” Kasey answered quietly. They had gone from wiggly child to very still and stiff with those few words.

Walter pursed his lips to keep his thoughts to himself, but it was clear to him Kasey was already becoming distant as if they were disassociating. Gilbert hadn't expressly stated his concerns about his sibling when he informed Walter he'd be Kasey's physician as well, but Walter had known the young prince long enough to know that there was trouble if he was stepping in.

“Your findings?” Gil prompted Walter.

Walter grimaced and looked away. He never had much of a poker face, but then again he never had a reason to have one. “How much do you already know?”

Gilbert continued to stare at Walter, straight faced and silent.

“You're taking over as Kassandra's guardian, then?” Walter attempted to verify, still hesitant to share what the medical evaluation had concluded.

“That should be obvious.” Gilbert wore his pleasant smile, a mask meant to disarm.

Walter sighed, letting his long bangs cover his eyes that were pointed towards the ground. It wasn't pleasant news to be sharing, and he didn't want to see the way murderous rage would flash through Gilbert's eye.

“She has multiple contusions of different ages. Further examination indicated she has previous injuries that were never treated properly. Her mobility is good. Her cognitive ability is above average. She is easy to engage with, however…” Walter knew he had to address Kasey's disassociating, but what that implied was not a subject either man wanted to discuss.

“Is there a way for her to heal from it?” Gilbert asked.

Walter scrubbed his hand over his face. “I don't know. There's nothing medically I can do since the wounds aren't physical. With women, we tend to treat with barbiturates to calm them and allow them to rest, but she's a child, and dependency is extremely common and easy to fall into for adults.”

“Do not drug her.” Gil warned.

“I wasn't planning to.” Walter agreed.

They stood in forlorn silence contemplating a way to make Kasey's future more bearable.

“Do you get fitted for new clothes, Roderic?” Kasey asked in the middle of playing old maid with Roderic.

“No, I'm given all of my clothing with my size in mind.” Gilbert knew Roderic's measurements, and having someone else tape him would lead to complications.

“Is that part of being an aide rather than royalty?” Though they were still a child just below ten, their understanding of the world was growing and the difference in Roderic's and their position was something Kasey found of interest. Roderic had been a friend for a while, and he was easier to talk to the longer they knew him. They wanted to know more about him, which meant they got to have more conversations with him.

“It's part of my specific duty, yes.”

“I'm being given a new dress for another party coming up. Diana is much nicer than my last caretaker, I think she's spoiling me.” Kasey pulled another card and made another match.

“With all due respect, Your Imperial Highness, it is common for someone of your status to keep the seamstresses in business.”

“So, it's my responsibility to ensure new orders continue?”

“From my understanding, yes.” Roderic answered, continuing to take turns in their game as they talked.

Kasey paused on their turn, frowning as they stared past their cards into something only they could see. “I don't like being measured.”

The words hung uncomfortably in the air. Roderic had little to go on, but the atmosphere had drastically changed with those words that Kasey had uttered. He would have to look into this - not out of obligation or expectation, but out of concern for their wellbeing.

Kasey resumed the game. They didn't speak about it again, naturally changing the topic as children tend to do.

“Take care of this.” Gilbert kicked the body that had once been his uncle, half out of necessity to indicate the ‘thing’ he was referring to be handled, and half out of disgust at the depravity the man had exhibited before his death.

Roderic pulled his gaze from the room they had found Kasey in to look at the corpse he was meant to dispose of. Although Kasey hadn't spoken about what had taken place, Gil and Roderic were aware. They didn't need to speak about it. What was there even to say?

“Prince Gilbert…” Roderic began. “She won't survive on her own.”

He had been watching Kasey for years, filling in Gilbert on the events Gil was unable to witness himself. He was the informant for Gil that had led to most of Kasey's abusers to be removed or disposed of. But he had no power. He didn't strike fear in Obsidian like Gilbert would. Especially not against the Imperial family and their family ties.

Gil sighed. He knew a time would come that he'd have to make a show of who was protecting Kasey. He had just hoped it would be later in life. He was tainted. He was as dark as his family. Kasey didn't need to be exposed to his bloody soul, they didn't deserve to be soiled by his presence. But Roderic was right, as tonight's events showed. They were vulnerable without a monster present to protect them.

There was one man that Gilbert feared. One man that could ruin all of his plans. A man who controlled a nation. The Supreme Emperor. The root of the rot who gleefully murdered without care. Who taught his armies to slaughter women and children. Who reveled in chaos and blood.

Gil was powerless against him. In order to remove the blight, he would have to find a way that no one would know the Emperor had died. He would have to make sure no one knew that he had killed him. A task that was nearly impossible as his father had long out survived so many others.

He had thought he had years to figure it out. But it seemed the man had given into insanity and taken to visiting Kasey's room. He was nothing but a foul, mad beast.

His younger sibling was slowly being devoured. They no longer smiled. They barely spoke. Any physical contact threatened to shatter their barely held together psyche. And there was nothing he could do.

The first opportunity. The very first chance he got, he knew what he had to do.

“You would inform me if Kasey made an advance on you, right Roderic?” Gil continued his work in his study, posing the question after Roderic reported on his last mission.

Roderic didn't know what to say. There were so many barbs in that sentence he was trying to wrap his head around why Gilbert would ask him something like that. “Of course.”

“So they haven't, yet.” Gilbert stated his conclusion for himself.

“Yet?” Roderic couldn’t help but let the question slip out.

“Kasey may act inappropriately in the future. They’re trying to navigate a world with the wrong rules given to them.” Gil sighed. “I need you to deny them. It would be in their best interests.”

“I understand.”

These are probably the closest I've actually come to drabbles. They were fun little thoughts I had, and I just wanted them written down some place.

#ikepri fanfic #ikepri oc #drabble #ikemen prince #rjthirsty fanfic

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the-amber-raven · 11 months ago

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Random question... No pressure to answer.... But do u perhaps have any prompts for buck&bobby fics... I have a few fics of them that im working on but i wanna try writing smth simple for a writing exercise since i havent been writing very much lately

Alright so I don't know if I am the best person to ask this because really this is just a list of the stuff I'd love to read... and there's enough of it that I waited until I could answer this on my computer instead of typing it out on my phone 😂 Also a lot of these ended up kind of related to some of the texts I included in the texting fic, probably because I went through so much of the canon for it that they're all front of mind, but you could probably also use some of those sections to help augment some of these ideas??

But some Buck&Bobby related ideas that I reckon would be great fun to explore:

Bobby and Probie Buck at the Springsteen concert. I feel like this is a criminally underused plot point from the pilot episode that I desperately wish more fics touched on. Like what made grouchy Captain Nash decide to go to a Springsteen concert with the probie that was driving him nuts?? Did he have the tickets and he thought maybe the bonding activity would help him connect with Buck thus making him more likely to listen to him? Were they Buck's tickets and he didn't have anyone to go with and he totally faux-casually was like "hey Bobby you're a Springsteen guy, you want to join me? Totally fine if not though!!" except despite trying so hard to keep his cool everyone could see how insecure he was feeling about having no one to go with and Bobby felt bad for him so he agreed to go? Were there shenanigans at the concert? I had Buck planning to like walk somewhere less crowded and then order an uber to get home in the texting fic and I totally imagined Bobby just going "........ this is how get murdered get in my car I'm driving you home."

The Pops nickname, which is the other criminally underused little detail from the pilot. Given we only heard about it then, my headcanon is that Buck was kind of using it as a teasing nickname that was a mixture of him trying to fit in at the firehouse by giving Bobby a mocking nickname that was probably on the edge of disrespectful (like a "wow, you're old, Pops" sarcastic kind of vibe) and partly way too real except he wasn't in a position to admit his terrible relationship with his father then. Which is why I think he then stopped doing it - getting fired made him rethink things, gave him more respect for Bobby so he retired the kind-of mocking feedback and buried the "desperate for a dad" even further... but I would love to see him then break out the Pops later on in the canon, where it actually flips to a mark of the respect and appreciation that Buck has for Bobby's role in his life. So I guess in terms of writing a story, something like an "X times Buck made fun of Bobby by calling him Pops, and X times Buck used it to mean 'you're my real dad'." (Bonus points for having him call him that in front of Phillip Buckley? 😂)

Buck returning to work after the lightning strike. I feel like there's something really interesting you could pull from this part of the canon. Because Bobby is clearly concerned about Buck (he hovers around him when he's doing crowd control instead of being, you know, with the patient and he gives him the perfect performance review score) but he's also clearly trying to act on the lessons he learned during the ladder truck era - namely that he can't wrap Buck up in cotton wool and keep him from doing the job he loves. So there's something in the conflict he must be feeling around that time (and I headcanon that he doesn't let Buck up the ladder for months, a mission that is aided and abetted by Chimney and Eddie). But there's also something in the fact that Buck actually wasn't as keen to get back as he had been during the ladder truck. It could be a fun reversal of roles story, where Bobby gets overly enthusiastic about getting Buck back on the roster ASAP when he gets cleared to show that he's listened and he wants Buck back but it's actually Buck this time who has to tell him that he wants to take it a bit slower and take his time.

Ladder truck recovery period. We know from 3x01 that Bobby accompanied Buck to some of his PT sessions and was involved quite a bit in his recovery - I've touched on it in the texting fic and in words, how little they mean but I've always wished there were stories that explored this era because it's such an interesting part of their journey - Bobby feels so guilty over the bombing, and he's also come to care for Buck a lot but he's also refusing to admit it's a father/son relationship even though it's exactly how he's acting...

Tsunami AU - there is exactly one thing that would make the tsunami arc better for me and that is if the 118 found out that Buck and Christopher were caught up in the tsunami way earlier than all of them converging at the field hospital. I would love to see a fic where Bobby (and the others) get sent to the firetruck and get told about the off-duty firefighter named Buck who saved them all but was swept away by the receding wave alongside his kid (and yes I know I did this exact scenario in mortifying ordeal but it's not the same because Bobby actually is Buck's (adoptive) dad in that one so different dynamics at play than the canon one)

Something to do with the Buckley parents - maybe like 5 times Bobby learns something about the Buckleys (maybe stuff like they're teachers, Buck used to hurt himself to get their attention, they skipped Maddie's wedding because they didn't approve of her husband, they kept their dead son a secret and didn't even tell their other son, and I don't know something totally random (maybe how they seem to have plenty of money - they invested in Hershey and that's why they live there??)) + the time he finally meets them (you could do Buck Begins, but I think it could be even more interesting if it's during the lightning strike)

And one more that came to mind when I was thinking about Buck Begins - the missing scene of Bobby talking to Buck after they pull him out of the factory fire. I was so devastated when I found out they deleted a scene showing them talk AND HUG and oh my god would I love to see it play out in a fic at least.

Lol these were probably way longer or detailed than you might have wanted or expected 😅 But I do hope one of these might inspire the muse and get those creative juices flowing! I know I would be intrigued to read any one of them 👀

#9-1-1 #amber does q&a #evan buckley #bobby nash #captain dad #fic prompts

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according2thelore · 1 year ago

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Ohmygod this was my askkkk!! I am so so happy with thiss, rolling around it like a kitten I am sooo fed!!! Tysm!! The twist with it being their intention all along for ES!winchesters to find out…..I am dead, absolutely dead. You are so good, soo creative. ES!Sam you are in for a ride, and ES!Dean, you better get over with your hangups soon and accept what it is.

My imagination is running wild now and because of this being intentional, I am imagining LS!Winchesters now fully staging this setup, lure ES!Sam in it because he would be easier to convince and LS!Sam knows that Dean *deserves* to be with a version of himself, pre cage, pre demon blood, all pure and innocent and fiery and angry and confident - something he is only rarely these days. This Sam will take what he wants. So LS!Sam arranges this thing for LS!Dean and ES!Sam, tells his Dean to enjoy! And my oh my does he. ES!Sam is his to claim first now???? This precious thing, eager to please but also has this arrogance in him that makes him so so so much Sam. Meanwhile ES!Dean is off to run some errand (by LS!Sam's design) but he returns early and sees his baby bro with that older version of himself and LOSES IT. HOW DARE DEAN NOT ONKY DEFILE HIS OWN LITTLE BROTHER BUT ALSO ES!DEAN'S!!!!! HE IS FURIOUS AND YEARNING AND HATES IT THAT HE WASNT THE ONE AND STARTS STRAIGHT UP MURDER BUT LS!SAM MAYBE CALMS HIM???? OHMYGOD

(also??? thank you so much for correcting the misread ask???? I would have taken with greedy grabby hands if you had completely misread it also!! I am OBSESSED with this verse! You are the nicestestestest)

HIHIHIHI!!!!!

GAH! this ask was so cute and nice i was kickin' my lil feet!

this idea is so great! your mind!

this falls into a similar category as one of my most recent posts, and i wrote it accordingly. do i think that LS!Dean would deprive ES!Dean of being LS!Sam's "first" dean? no, i don't think so. that bastard is so possessive i think he can respect the insane-brotherwife grind.

so this is just a delightful hypothetical based on your prompt!

without further ado, enjoy!

"plan b?" dean asks, and sammy lifts his head from his arms. his temples throb with a headache.

dean is sitting across from him at the dining table, nursing a glass of something sam can smell from here. sam snags the glass and takes a sip that curdles his nose hairs before passing it back.

"were we really this stupid? like this dumb?" sammy groans, rubbing a hand through his hair. "i mean, i believe you would be this obtuse, but me? i was just studying for the LSAT like a year ago!"

"oh here comes the big fancy college boy with his big triangle words. you're still gagging for me so hard you're getting an aneurysm." dean rolls his eyes. sammy rolls his eyes right back.

it hadn't worked. they had set those little fuckers up, and expected at least a conversation to happen. but sammy just walked in on their younger selves in the kitchen the other day and they didn't even break apart abashedly! no awkward explanations at all! there wasn't even anything to explain--they were standing on opposite sides of the room!

"did we make it worse?" sammy asks. dean considers this.

"nah. we can fuck it up at least three times as bad if we put our heads together."

so they put their heads together.

~~~

"you want me to what?" sam asks, and there's that blush. sammy tilts his head away so the kid can't see him smile. it's going to make this so much harder if he thinks he's being laughed at.

"pour some sugar on me," dean says, waggling his eyebrows.

sam's face sours.

yup. made it harder.

"not really," sammy is quick to correct. "just...make it look like something's happening."

sam's eyes narrow.

"why?"

and isn't that the crux of the whole damn thing. sammy's done some weird things in his life. he's been to the past. he's been to the future. he's been to hell, been to alternate dimensions, and killed just about every type of monster one can think of.

and yet, having to explain why he and dean want to "parent trap" their own younger selves to said younger self might rank high on that list of weird.

"guy's in love with you." dean says, before sammy can say anything. sammy clenches his jaw. way to just jump into this thing.

sam blanches. "no. he's not. you're--he's my brother. you don't know what you're talking about."

"i don't know dean?" dean asks, eyebrow raised. sam sputters.

"well, you know you. but my dean is different. he's not--" heat creeps onto sam's cheeks, as if remembering the compromising position he caught them in the other day. "you."

dean mhmms flatly.

"then what's the harm? he walks in on this, is not jealous, and it doesn't do anything." sammy posits.

"easy for you to say! you have--" sam gestures at dean, but doesn't look at him. "if my dean caught me like that, if he knew--he'd...he'd never talk to me again. he'd...he'd be disgusted."

sammy and dean share a look. after having been tested so often, so deeply, and reaffirming their...bond--as chick-flick and meaningless as it sounds--the distance they had gained from this depth of anxiety removed the sting from it.

sammy will always remember working himself literally ill over it. but when he feels like that, he has the comfort of walking up to dean and biting down on the place where his neck and shoulder meet. he has the comfort of dean putting sticky notes that read "kick me" on the back, and then holding his face like he's the only thing that's ever mattered.

their younger selves deserve this. sammy has no idea if this is going to change the past. he doesn't know if these two will leave here tomorrow or in a week or in a year and be completely wiped-clean, or if they'll keep it all. but they deserve that comfort, that confirmation, that reassurance, as long as they can have it.

and honestly, fuck it. sammy wants a younger dean to be with his younger self. he sees their insecurities and their weird dance around each other and kciks himself for ever being so blind.

not having dean as soon as it was possible to have him will always be one of his biggest regrets.

so, sammy says,

"okay, listen. if it doesn't work, we have a mirror in 219 that erases the viewer's memories from the last 24 hours. all of 'em. so if we try this, and it doesn't work, we can slip it under dean's pillow, and he won't even remember. a zero sum game. no harm, no foul, right?"

sammy can feel dean's eyes on the side of his face, but he maintains intense eye-contact with his younger self.

no, they don't. they absolutely do not have that.

but for the first time, he can see something like hope in the kid's eyes, and--again, fuck it. in for a penny.

"he won't remember?" sam repeats, slowly.

"not a thing." sammy says, wondering if this counts as lying or self-delusion. sam is quiet for a long moment. he looks between him and dean for a few times, suspicion melting.

"yeah. okay." he says finally, looking at dean with a strange hunger in his eyes that brings sammy up short. oh shit. should he-- "i'm in."

~~~

getting dean out of the bunker is embarrassingly easy.

"you know what i would kill for right now?" sammy asks, suddenly, while they're all sitting around a table in the library. sam jolts, even though he had been expecting it. "pringles. do we have any pringles left?"

"oh, man." sam says, his eyes widen. "me, too."

even though they planned this out ten minutes ago, sammy's dean perks up like he's going to say something decidedly not-on-script. sammy shoots him a warning look. he sighs.

"whoops. i think i ate them all." dean looks at the table, like he's a football player forced to be in the school play for extra credit.

"oh." younger dean says. he sits up straight. he looks back and forth between the sams. "i mean. yeah. if we need a grocery run, i could go get some."

his nonchalant tone is belied by the fact his almost trips over his own feet to get up.

"i'll be back!" he calls, already in the doorway.

"god, i'm so fucking transparent." older dean mutters directly into his own palms as he hides his face in his hands. sam pats him on the back comfortingly.

forty-five minutes later, it's all in motion.

sammy knocks against the door twice as he hears dean's footsteps shuffle down the hallway, and rushes away, rounding the corner so dean won't be able to see him.

sam and older dean are set up in the garage. dean had pulled up one of the cars right next to the door so younger dean could see everything.

they had laid out clear ground rules: no actual kissing, no touching "bathing suit territory" (dean had proposed that addendum solemnly, and sam's face had screwed up, like he was considering if he actually felt anything but annoyance for his brother.)

they had decided on signals: two knocks when dean was coming, one knock if things were going to plan, three knocks for "i'll go get the mirror" for sam, and "oh shit we gotta have a plan c" for dean.

sammy had made sure the door was perfectly cracked to give dean some assurance of anonymity, and they had figured that was the best strategy, since dean was known apparently to peep when he suspected his older self and sammy were getting close.

sammy hadn't expected being able to hear sam and older dean's voices from down the hallway, but he can. he can also hear younger dean's footsteps falter as he gets closer to the door.

"no, you're doing it--" an aggravated sigh. "c'mere." a shuffling of limbs. "you see how the drive belt comes this way? we need to loop it around the--"

a pause.

"what're you lookin' at?" dean's voice has lowered an octave, and sammy shifts, a pavlov reaction to hearing dean like that.

"i'm just--" sam peters into silence. a gasp. younger dean's gasp. did he think it was sammy in the garage this whole time? sammy stifles a smile against his hand.

"you lookin' at me, sammy baby?"

"baby?" sam repeats indignantly, but is cut off by a gasp as something in the room clatters to the ground.

"yeah, that's right. you're my baby brother, aren't you? my baby brother. you like seein' me like this? bigger than you? i know my sammy likes it when i throw him around a little. show him who takes care of him."

sam is breathless, and sammy can hear it, when he says, "dean."

sammy wonders how they're set up. does dean have him pressed to the front of the car? hiked onto a table, like he and sammy were set up that first time?

he realizes that it's killing him not to know.

a coo, from dean. "oh. look at you, sweetheart. you're so hard, and i haven't even touched you yet. you think i could make you come just by talkin' to you? hm? you like big brother tellin' you how much he loves takin' care of you that much?"

sammy realizes that he's started to chub up in his jeans. and he also realizes that younger dean hasn't said anything yet. sammy's torn between wanting to look around the corner and see if he's still there and staying put.

what if sam was right, and younger dean's just not ready for this yet? sammy's dean had reassured him in no uncertain terms that he had been lusting after sam since a truly concerning age.

but what if the jealousy is too much? what if seeing them like that carves an impossible chasm?

"dean, i--i" sam sounds much more unsure, like he's losing control fast. sammy bites down hard on his tongue.

he makes a split-second decision.

he rounds the corner.

and dean's got a fucking gun.

sammy starts in a dead sprint just as dean kicks open the door to the garage.

"you sick fuck!" he yells. sammy's behind him in a second, pulling his arms back. dean's starts kicking immediately, even as sammy is able to pull him mostly off the ground.

"he's a kid!" dean's still yelling. "we promised, fucker! we promised!"

sammy looks around dean's flailing body, and sees sam's horrified face. he looks like he's about to be sick. older dean's leaned him up against the side of the car, and he's not even touching him, just standing a few inches away. sammy's dean has visibly paled.

"hey, that's not--" he starts, but dean's already going off again,

"get your goddamn hands off of him!" sammy starts hauling him away, and manages to kick the garage door closed--but not before dean shouts a parting shot, "you think he wants those disgusting fucking hands on him?!"

sammy manages to wrestle dean a couple steps down the hallway before dean starts to go limp.

"i'm calm," dean says, and his gun hand does actually go limp, so sammy starts to let him go.

"what the hell happened back there?" sammy asks, heartbeat in his throat. play dumb! play dumb!

dean tucks his gun back into his pants. he's looking at the wall over sammy's shoulder.

"he shouldnta' been sayin' that." dean mutters. "not his place to. sam is...never mind."

not his place to.

"his place?" sammy prompts. despite the fact that he's pretty sure he had a heart attack back there, he tries really, really hard not to smile. he's taking this very seriously.

dean's phrase is dangerously close to the point of all this, and sam should not celebrate because he's positive older dean and sam are powering through some angst (that sammy will have to deal with later) in the next room right now.

sammy feels like one of those tv show therapists with big glasses, armchair, and ballpoint pen. and how did that make you feel?

"i don't--" dean's eyes fall to his. "i don't know why i said that." his brows furrow. "i gotta go. i need some fresh air."

and without another word, dean turns around and walks away.

operation: go convince your brother to kiss you, but also not you is a-go.

before he walks away, sammy remembers the knock code: once for success, two for dean's arrival, three for failure. and honestly?

sammy knocks on the door once. and he trails after dean, barely resisting the urge to whistle.

oh yeah. they got this in the bag.

~~~~

@aj-carryon au contraire! you are the nicest! i hope you enjoyed this little ficlet, aj! (i hope that's your name, if not, then i hope you enjoyed, friend!)

your asks always make me giggle and twirl my hair, lol! kissing u on both cheeks!

-lizzy

#ask box #lizzy answers #ES/LS verse #aj-carryon

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