#this has more of an explanation for each sign

[phoebepheebsphibs]

What does the bad timeline au look like for your boys 👀

OOOOH, here we go!

(So, I did hint to this in the NFIF/UIFY Crossover when DvD met Omega, and Omega ran a simulation to see what DvD's future would be like. It was a general explanation, but I'm gonna go deeper into detail now --)

2020: So, first off, the Krang attack in 2020, same as in canon. Leon, 'Phael, Mikey, and DvD manage to survive the invasion by some miracle. For the first year, they just focus on staying alive and hidden from the aliens, but by the end of that first year the reunite with April and their friends and discover the beginnings of the Resistance. (Karai was separated from them all as well, but no one has seen her yet and so they all assume she's dead.)

2023-2025: Several years pass, and there is still no sign of Karai. While the boys are out doing a supply raid, they get ambushed by a Krang attack and are caught in a collapsing building. 'Phael freezes in panic and Leon takes a hit to rescue him, though the two are trapped in rubble together as they wait for Mikey and DvD to dig them out. However... Leon doesn't have that long, and encourages Raph as the leader of their family to stay strong and take care of Mikey and Donnie and April and everyone else...

Leo dies, having saved Raphael.

2025-2030: The three mourn their brother, but do their best to help lead the Resistance. In 2026, Cass gives birth to a son, and 'Phael helps her to raise the child. However, during these five years, tragedy strikes again. Michelangelo's hypoglycemia has been acting up due to the low rations, and in spite of their promptings to take care of himself, Mikey has been intentionally skipping meals so the others can take his rations, effectively starving himself. That, coupled with the injuries he gets from his ninpo overdrive, finally takes its toll on his frail body.

Mikey starves to death.

2030-2035: After Mikey's death, Donnie and Raph have a hard time staying cheerful. And to add to the grief, Cassandra dies in battle as well. But some good comes to light, as the group receives word of a lone stranger roaming New York and saving survivors while battling the Krang. After investigating, they discover that Karai has survived and become something of a folk hero! She joins their Resistance, bringing her own group of survivors with her. During this time, Raphael has grown to be a force to be reckoned with, and even the leader of the Resistance! Donatello is working around the clock to create weapons and grow nutritional, non-contaminated plants that they can eat safely. It's hard work, but no one said the end of the world was easy. DvD discovers a formula and equation that may work for time-travel, but he is unsure... he starts to build the machine.

2035-2044: The Resistance is not looking good. They can barely go above ground anymore without being picked off and slaughtered. The food and supplies are running low. 'Phael realizes that the end is coming, and there may be no escape. He has Donnie work full-time on the time machine, as it is their last hope. The Resistance grows smaller and smaller with each passing month, until it seems like it's just Raph, DvD, April, Karai, and Casey Jones Jr., along with a few special people like Big Mama Frida Kahlo. Finally, in 2044, the Krang find their hideout and begin to slaughter the last of the Resistance. Raph has CJ and Donnie evacuate into the labs with the time machine, and while Raph holds them off, Donnie begins to power the machine with his ninpo and what little electricity they have left. Raph instructs Casey on what to do, that he's sending him back in time -- not necessarily to stop the Krang, but more importantly to save Casey from the attack. If nothing else, Casey must survive. If Raph can do nothing else but make sure that his boy sees a world without war, where he is healthy... that will be enough for him. That will redeem his mistakes, how he let his brothers die because of his failures and fear. Casey has to live. He tells him to find his family, warn them, and to find his sister as well, because she -- Suddenly the Krang break into the room, and Casey is thrown into the time machine. Dee's ninpo goes into overdrive and powers the machine, though it costs him his life. Raph manages to hold the Krang off until the machine does it's duty, and then...

Raph and Donnie die sending Casey Jones Jr. into the past.

And yes, I did cry writing this.

[luveline]

I love your writings about the marauders, and I recently had a thought about the boys first coming in contact with a vibrator or any sex toy really. Not even a like smut thing but just then walking into a muggle sex shop or they made a friend with a muggle girl and they stumble upon in some way lol idk, just a funny thought that’s been making me giggle a bit. If you have any thoughts I guess?? Hope you have a good day :)

this isn’t smut but it is explicit - mdni please! fem, 1k

“What is that?” Sirius asks.

You get yanked back. “God, sorry,” James says, letting go of your hand. You’d been in a weird fugue state of joy with his fingers twined in yours; it’s the first time he’s held your hand. You can’t tell if it’s platonic or romantic, you can never tell with the boys. “Wait, what is that?” 

“What’s what?” you ask, trying to follow their gaze. You’re on a crowded high street divided by a two way road. It’s so loud you can’t hear yourself think, and stopping as you have has diverted foot traffic around you poorly. 

“There’s a cock in the window.” 

Remus yelps a laugh. You smile, befuzzled, as he takes your shoulders into his hand and turns you bodily to the right shop window. “Oh,” you say. “Oh! There really is.” 

There is a vast array of the aforementioned appendage in the window, and in a variety of sizes and colours. A mannequin in dark lingerie holds a fifty percent off sign to the left, while a poster brags a multitude of ‘stimulating pleasures’ to be found inside. 

“What am I looking at?” Sirius asks.

You forget sometimes how sheltered they all are. They’d gone to a rather elite boarding school, and they all lived in rural England and Wales for their summers. This is as city as they’ve ever been, and you’d thought they’d seen everything there is to see by now, but apparently not. 

How are you supposed to explain a sex shop? Better, why is fate making you? They all turn to you for an explanation. 

“Remus, you’re twenty three,” you say hopelessly. 

“We’ve only recently relocated,” Remus argues. 

“You’ve known me for six months. You’ve lived here for eight.” 

“And yet we’ve never seen that,” James says, pointing at the lingerie. “You’re such perverts in the city. Why are there rainbow cocks in the window?” 

“Can we stop saying that?” you ask. 

“Sorry,” James says quickly. “Lovely girl, why are the dicks in the window?” 

“They’re toys,” you say, feeling a little part of yourself shrivel away in shyness, their eyes like heat from your face and neck. 

“For kids?” Sirius asks, disgusted. 

“No! God, no, they’re for grown ups.” You shake your head uselessly. “Are you messing with me? You’ve really never seen them?” 

“We’ve seen some rather tasteful underwear in our time,” Sirius says, to James’ delight and Remus’ derision. 

“Stop,” Remus says. 

“We have to go in. I must understand these toys,” Sirius says, ignoring him with ease. There’s something to his usually nice smile you don’t know, some burning excitement that will likely end in innuendos and teasings galore for you. 

You make your way into the sex shop, shoes dragging, cheeks hot. James and Sirius seem as though they could burst into laughter at any second, but Remus is more understanding. He offers you his hand when he realises you’re behind them. You don’t have the strength to refuse him. 

They’re the weirdest friends you’ve ever had, but also the best ones. They love holding hands and crossing legs and laying half on top of each other when they come around to watch a film. You’re pretty sure you saw James and Remus kissing a few weeks ago, but they’ve yet to say anything about it to you, so what do you know? You’d been jealous, but each boy has continued to love on you just a little too much considering the parameters of your ‘friendship’. 

This lies firmly outside of your parameters, you decide. 

Sure, you’ve thought about them sometimes as more than friends, but they don’t know that. Can you be blamed? They’re all so handsome in awful ways —Remus classic, Sirius Grecian, and James devilish. James. You shake your head in an attempt to dispel thoughts of their good looks while in close proximity to lacy knickers, turning your attention to the ridiculous gasps of awe the two idiots are letting out. 

“What is that?” Sirius asks delightedly, knuckling at a row of plastic sex toys, all with different functions. 

“That’s a…” You blow a breath up your face in an attempt to cool down. “Read the label, Siri.” 

“Most of this stuff is for girls?” James asks you. 

“I guess so.” You poke at the pink packaging of a glass massage wand. “I mean, not always. I think anybody can use all this stuff too. Or most of it.”

“What about that?” 

James points at a vibrator in clear blister packaging. “A vibrator? What’s that do?” He turns to you with a surprisingly innocent curiosity. 

“It vibrates.” You don’t want to say anything else, but they’re your friends. They’re nice to you, and they respect you, so it’s not like you think telling them these things will put you in an uncomfortable position. “You know how girls have a harder time finishing sometimes?” 

If they’re surprised to hear you say it aloud, they don’t show it. “Not in my experience,” Sirius jokes. 

“So the vibration helps?” 

“It’s very intense. It makes the… climax come much quicker,” you say. 

Remus seems very grateful for the energy your explanation takes, giving you a caring smile. He’s about to say something when Sirius interrupts, and asks, “Do you have one?”

“You don’t have to answer that,” Remus says, hitting Sirius in the arm. “She doesn’t have to answer that, don’t ask her stuff like that, it’s private.” 

Sirius’ eyes go wide. “I’m sorry,” he says to you, all joking gone from his face. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. Just forget sometimes that you have boundaries we don’t have.” 

You’re not expecting such a genuine and sudden apology, because maybe Sirius shouldn’t ask, but you totally understand what he means. You feel like you’ve known them all your life. “It’s okay, don’t worry. I know what you’re like.” 

“So it’s a good time, hypothetically,” James says. 

“What do you reckon that feels like?” Sirius asks, already moving on. 

“Sirius,” Remus pleads. 

“Sweetheart, can I ask you, hypothetically,” —Sirius taps his converse to yours, grinning— “what do you mean, it’s quicker? How does that even work?” 

You frown, “You don’t know how it works?” 

Remus and James laugh like bellows beside you. They laugh so much the woman behind the counter glares at you all, undoubtedly tired of people coming in here for a laugh. 

“Awful girl,” Sirius says, frowning. 

You smile back. “It just stimulates the nerves, Sirius. I don’t know how to explain it. I guess it’s kinda like magic or something.” 

“Magic can’t do that,” James says. Remus elbows him hard, and you’ve no idea why. 

[colonoscopys]

in my head

bucktommy (mostly...)

Everything about being with a man is—fucking incredible.  There are the little, tiny things, like how he gets to borrow Tommy’s products that he keeps scattered around Buck’s bathroom (except for the hair products. Tommy’s hair is frustratingly straight. Unlike him). How Buck gets to tug on his sweater after sex, and feel it lie loose around his collar and drag around his elbows. How he gets to sink into a chest at the end of the night that’s warm and broad, soaked with cologne, and run a hand down hard, toned muscles that quiver when he lingers for too long. And then there are bigger things. Things that don’t necessarily come with dating a man, but things that seem to come along with dating—Tommy. 

He’s frustratingly confident and suave, for one. Cool in ways that Buck’s always felt an indomitable pressure to be whenever he was with women he liked. All that seems to come effortlessly for Tommy, and it’s easy to see it in the way he holds the door open for Buck, one hand on his lower back, herding him into a restaurant with his own body pressed up against his back.

It’s easy to see it in the way he flies Buck around in his helicopter, hands grasped over the controls with ease, listening to Buck chatter and occasionally filling in with little tidbits of information that he knows Buck would like. And it’s especially easy to see when he’s in bed with Buck, eyes half-lidded like he doesn’t even need to see what he’s doing to him, hands fisted in Buck’s hair, in his mouth, over his wrists and down the waistband of his briefs he drives him insane and then kisses him, sweet, with an easy little laugh as Buck tries to tell him that. 

Tommy is…patient too. Patient when he stutters through an awkward explanation with Eddie on their first date. Patient when telling the 118 about them takes one week, then two, and then finally three until Tommy doesn’t have to take an awkward step away whenever they’re together at the station. Patient when Buck freaks as soon as he gets a hand around his dick. And patient—even when Buck swears he’s gonna fuck this up.

He’s calm—especially when Buck is catastrophizing in ways that mankind is probably unaware of. He just smiles and listens, and then soothes whatever Buck is saying with some one-line answer that Buck hasn’t thought of.

He’s tactile in ways that Buck’s never even known he’s needed—pressing a kiss behind Buck’s ear whenever he has to leave the room, putting a palm on some part of his body whenever they’re just standing next to each other, and slipping his hands into his when they’re walking to the car, to the movies, to dinner, to work—to wherever. He’s sweet, funny, an amazing cook, interesting, and kind.

And more recently, he’s really fucking hot when he’s worried. 

“Evan?” He hears someone say—and well, there’s only two people in the world who say his name in a way that makes Buck’s stomach churn something fierce, and thankfully they’re far, far away.

“Hey,” Buck breathes, his voice just a little low and raspy. He’s sitting with his feet over the edge of a hospital bed, waiting for the nurse to come back with the paperwork he needs to sign so he can get out of here.

“Jesus Christ,” Tommy says instead of a reply, stepping forward to look at the smudged bruises on Buck’s throat, abnormally bright simply because Buck is pale enough to wear a bruise like a fucking neon sign. 

“Not that bad,” Buck says, trying to smile as he spreads his legs and lets Tommy come close. He puts his big, calloused palm against the hinge of his jaw, tilting Buck’s head back to get a closer look, and then making a low tutting sound. 

He got off shift and went home for a couple of hours, if Buck remembers correctly, so the wet hair and the warm smell of body wash radiating off of him makes sense. Also makes sense why it makes Buck so goddamn woozy.

“How was work?” Buck asks, bringing a hand up to the side of Tommy’s waist to hold him there. He lets his ring finger slide underneath his shirt and rub against the smooth, warm skin.

“A lot less dangerous than yours,” he replies, finally finishing with twisting Buck’s head left and right and looking down at him in the eyes. “I was worried.”

He leans down and plants a kiss on Buck’s face, with absolutely no bite to it and all sweetness. Buck smiles into it and gives him another one before pulling back and looking back at him. He’s got a little wrinkle between his brow. Buck prefers it when he’s got the smile wrinkles anyhow. 

“You don’t need to be,” Buck says, stupid-soft. 

Tommy hums. “I’ll be the decider on that,” he says, and looks out the door. “What’d they say? How are you feeling?”

Buck shrugs, trying not to purr as Tommy runs his hand up the side of his face and starts making big, sweeping motions over the stubble on his cheek. “Just said to see if anything gets worse over the next few hours. I feel fine—just a little headache. Soreness in my throat.”

Tommy listens intently, scrunching in the brow still ever-present, like Buck is giving him instructions on how to perform brain surgery.

“Okay, we’ll—”

“Tommy,” a voice comes, just from the left. Eddie looks surprised to see the two of them, like he always does, even though Buck and Tommy have been together for more than a few weeks. “You came.”

“Yeah, man,” Tommy says, dropping his hand to put it over Buck’s shoulder so he can turn to face Eddie, still in between Buck’s legs. “Thanks for texting me.”

Eddie swallows. Buck still can’t figure out why he looks so fucking shifty all the time, like him and Tommy had some big falling out even though Tommy’s reassured him that they’re fine. “Of course.”

There’s a moment of awkward silence, another one to add to the collection because there have been a lot of awkward silences between the three of them lately, before Eddie starts, and then Tommy goes too with—

“So I’ll take—”

“I’m guessing—”

They pause. Take a stifling moment to take an awkward breath. 

“Tommy can drive me home,” Buck fills in, helpfully. He tilts his head towards him while Tommy rubs a thumb over his neck, so gentle he can barely feel it. “Thanks for offering, though.”

Eddie’s eyes flicker between the two of them. They’re so brown, Buck can’t believe it sometimes. He’s been looking younger and younger these days, with his hair poofy like the day Buck met him, and his t-shirts fitting him just the same way. Tight around his shoulders and fluttering around his abs.

Buck swallows.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, after a second, a smile pulling at half his face. “Let me know if you need anything.”

Buck nods, and Eddie shakes his head over at Tommy, some sort of man thing that Buck hasn’t really mustered yet. 

The nurse trickles in just as Eddie leaves, and Buck’s in the car in no time, back at his loft where he’s changing into the hoodie Tommy left over his chair the other night, plaid pajama pants, and wearing Tommy’s arms, too, as he curdles into him in bed.

“How do you feel?” Tommy asks, smothered into the back of Buck’s hair. His arms are tight around his waist, hand flat against his lower belly. Buck rubs a hand up and down his arm and feels the softness of his hair. 

His throat already hurts less and less, and he’d be surprised if he woke up with any bruising.

“Better,” he murmurs in the dark. “I feel better.”

Tommy smiles into his hair, and then shifts so he can press a kiss into his cheek. His legs tangle up with Buck’s under the covers, easily mixing themselves together. Buck sighs; feels himself relax. 

“You smell like me,” Tommy whispers.

“Gee,” Buck laughs. It only hurts a little. “I wonder why.”

Tommy snuggles into him, infinitely closer for a second, while Buck blinks in the dark.

Once, twice, three times. He tries to settle down. He closes his eyes and breathes, trying to will his heart down and to let the darkness of the loft wash over him. 

For some reason, he can’t get a shade of brown to leave with the light. 

[frostbitebakery]

LOUD.

a Jedi Shadow!Obi-Wan AU

“Each of us, every single clone, is a one-man army. And yes, I am… I’m so proud of them. We protect the Galaxy, we die fighting for the Galaxy and its peoples. We are not made for peace times, Obi-Wan.”

The cynical part of Obi-Wan wants to ask why Cody is so steadfast in his belief when everywhere the clones go they’re confronted with people dismissing them, equating them to the droids they’re fighting.

He understands, though. Jedi are only welcome where people know about the help they can provide. The Order is looked down upon, the Jedi just as easily dismissed, more often than not when it comes to it.

And still. And still. The call to protect people is too strong to ignore. He doesn’t want to ignore the call. He can help so he does.

So yes, he understands Cody and his need to fight.

He watches as Cody self-consciously rubs the back of his neck, fingers not halting over the port, so— so used to its presence, as the silence reigns. Cody doesn’t try to further his explanations. He said his piece and that’s that.

Obi-Wan settles down on the floor in front of the weightlifting bench. And Cody.

He crosses his legs automatically, the armor he has to don if he wants to engage in the battles blessedly absent, here. His fingers find Cody’s other hand in his lap, tapping it lightly, glancing by the embedded screen in the armored boot proclaiming Cody as belonging to the 212th.

Commander Cody got his own Attack Battalion. Mace remains the immediate superior but the brass saw Cody’s merit. No Jedi can easily fill the role as war general and Cody is… too brilliant to not be in charge. He and Mace have been flattening the CIS, the GAR is only too happy to spread out their heavy hitters.

“He’s always giving them a chance to surrender first,” Cody had commented on Mace, pride and admiration shining from his whole body. “How he’s able to walk with balls like that is a mystery to me.”

Obi-Wan had politely choked on nothing.

Once Cody is looking at him, apologies in his eyes for being made for war, of war, Obi-Wan signs a simple question. “How would you know?”

Temper makes the scarred eyebrow rise and Obi-Wan continues, undeterred now that Cody’s attention isn’t on misplaced guilt.

“You know nothing but war. You’ve learnt nothing but war. You’ve,” Obi-Wan pauses to swallow the grief, “experienced nothing but war in your life. How would you know you’re not made for peace times when you haven’t even had the chance to live in them?”

A smile, half there and fleeing, cracks, warm brown eyes watch Obi-Wan’s hands. “In my darkest moments I’m not sure I’ll even see them.”

Obi-Wan is against false promises but hope has never left his life’s side and he’d like to share. “We work together and we end this war. We see as many of you and us on the other side as possible.”

“Sounds like an easy first step,” Cody laughs ruefully, and leans down, captures Obi-Wan’s unmasked face, blurred by the unknown, and holds their foreheads together for a long self-indulgent moment.

Obi-Wan ducks his head, mask and scars in place once more. “Is that something you wish? To see me?”

Cody shakes his head, shoulders tight. “I’m sorry. I went too far.”

No, you didn’t, Obi-Wan wants to tell him, I want you to see me.

Soon. Probably. As soon as Obi-Wan has removed the screws from his heart and their doubting pressure.

“I think I can help you,” Obi-Wan signs, bullheading through the burgeoning silence. “But I need your help for that.”

“What do you need,” Cody asks, all Commander now that he’s got a mission objective.

“I want to know how you can communicate neurally and who has access to that channel.” He’s been looking into it for months, always ending in front of a Kaminoan wall. He’s at his wits end and now, now, with Bail confirming Palpatine is shuffling credits to the CIS and it’s still only heresy where a court is concerned…

Kamino confirmed only authorized personnel has access to the comm links in the clones’ heads. What if those include the CIS?

Cody blinks in surprise. “General Windu has access to that information.”

Does he? Obi-Wan is beginning to doubt that fact. “Humor me.”

Shoulders go wide, straight, loose. “Protocol dictates that, in case of emergency in an engagement situation, a High General is able to deploy orders directly to a CC-class clone via the Force after initiating with the correct identification.”

The clones are password-locked. Obi-Wan tries very, very hard to keep his expression neutral. “I assume every Commander knows the identification?”

Cody starts to smile, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, ready to playfully lecture Obi-Wan about confidentiality. Obi-Wan can see that, can feel the intention of Cody to do so. Before his eyes sharpen like the back-up blade in the boot holster. “Is there a leak?”

“Not that I’m sure of,” Obi-Wan hurries to sign. “Cody, please, what is the initialization sequence?”

Cody watches him, tracks his every move and twitch and stillness with keen eyes. Obi-Wan lets him, not able to keep a lid on the worry he’s feeling, the Force hushed in absolute and anticipation. “Every Commander knows those words. No one else does. A High General can request it of his Commander. That is what General Windu knows. A Commander takes the words to their grave if they have to.” A built-in failsafe, based on the clones’ loyalty to the Republic. “And the Jedi,” Cody adds with a soft smile. “Maybe we have been trained to follow you but you have proven yourself over and over again. The initialization is—“ Cody’s face twists into confusion as the Force starts— starts to shriek in warning. “Is…”

Shards of glass hurtle towards Obi-Wan, high-pitched tone piercing his eardrums, hack into his thoughts—

“Who are you?”

Obi-Wan hurries, pulls a hand up and projects “Cody, wake”.

.

Cody wakes, blinks. Shakes the cloudy remnants of a dream gone wrong off, as stuck on him, burnt into him as some details of it are.

He looks up when he notices the presence by the training salle entry, smiles up at Obi-Wan, feels his eyes go soft, relaxed.

Obi-Wan stares back at him, mask in place which ups the distant, rumbling intensity of his gaze like an incoming storm. “Thank you,” he signs, and Cody can see the tremors in his fingertips. Blue eyes flick up to the surveillance camera in the ceiling, go back to him.

Cody… remembers. Obi-Wan pushing him behind a destroyed tank during battle, one hand covering the helmet camera while the other had signed “need to talk, no eyes” in battle signs.

He looks to the door again but Obi-Wan is suddenly right in front of him, cradling his face so gently Cody can feel tears prick at his eyes, forehead carefully, with no hesitation and too much meaning coming to rest against his.

[nina-ya]

Ways That Zoro Wordlessly Says "I Love You"

Luffy Zoro Sanji Law Kid Shanks Pairing: Zoro x reader CW: Drinking. Overall just fluff WC: 862

Wandering through the lively markets of the island, Zoro stood by your side, his hand always finding a firm grip on any part of you within reach—whether it be your hand, your waist, or your arm. It was his way to ensure that you would not slip away into the crowd.

As you paused to admire a colorful display of exotic fruits, Zoro instinctively drew a little closer, his gaze scanning the surroundings. A persistent merchant approached, eager to haggle you. Meeting the merchant's eyes, Zoro narrowed his gaze and firmly placed a hand on the hilt of his sword. The unspoken threat was enough to make the merchant back off.

You continue to peruse the market with Zoro by your side.. His protective instincts kicked in as he guided you away from anyone who seemed sketchy, positioned himself between you and the crowd, and kept a watchful eye on potential threats. These acts of protection serve as a reminder that he wants you to be safe no matter what. You know Zoro loves you when he goes out of his way to protect you.

-

-

-

A rare moment of calmness settles over the Sunny as it sails through the sea. The sun bathes the deck in hues of soft pinks and warm oranges as it sets. Zoro's muscular frame leans against the ship, arms crossed, and head lowered as he sleeps.

You approach the peacefully sleeping swordsman, noting the subtle signs of restlessness in his stirring form. Gently, you sit beside him, and he fully awakes, a reflection of the perpetual alertness that has been engrained into his nature. Softly, you encourage him to go back to sleep, grabbing his arm and pulling him down to let him sleep in a more comfortable, lying down position. Zoro complies, opting to settle on your lap, your thighs serving as a comfortable pillow. As you stroke his hair, the familiar rhythm of deep breathing returns, and he once again falls asleep.

Hours pass, and the scene remains unchanged. Zoro continues to sleep soundly in your embrace, undisturbed by anything that would normally wake him. Napping like this is a small and intimate moment that you two have grown to share over the time of getting to know each other. You know Zoro loves you when he feels safe enough to sleep in your embrace.

-

-

-

The unmistakable sound of a sword being unsheathed rings through the air as Zoro's voice calls out, "Come here." You approach him, and he places the hilt of a sword in your hand, unsheathing another one for himself.

Your desire to learn the art of swordsmanship has led to training sessions with the marimo. As you grip the sword, the weight and balance feel different from any other weapon you've held. Zoro insists that his swords are the only suitable ones for you to practice with. His explanation that the swords in the armory are "not good to practice with" seems somewhat dubious, especially since he doesn't extend the same courtesy to others. You, it seems, are the sole exception to this rule- being able to handle his swords when others can’t.

Under Zoro's watchful eye, the training session begins. His instructions are informative, and his demonstrations are precise. The clash of steel against steel fills the air as you follow his lead. He would oftentimes opt to focus on your form, gently grabbing you from behind and positioning you in different ways. He encourages you through proud smiles, motivating words, and small rewards such as a kiss every time you overcome a new feat. Training with Zoro is something unlike anything else. You know Zoro loves you when he lets you handle his swords.

-

-

-

The crew gathers for a celebratory banquet after a victorious battle. Laughter and music fill the air, but Zoro notices a subtle change in your demeanor. Sensing that something is wrong, he decides to take action.

Spotting you sitting alone, Zoro grabs a bottle of his favorite sake and makes his way over. Wordlessly, he holds the bottle to you, a silent offer of comfort. Your eyes meet his, and without a word, you accept the gesture, taking a generous swig from the bottle.

Zoro takes a seat beside you and the two of you pass the bottle back and forth. As the sake flows, so does the conversation. Zoro pays close attention to you, encouraging you to share your thoughts and making attempts to cheer you up along the way. 

The more you drink, the more you seem to relax. As the night progresses, the sake starts to work its magic, fostering a playfulness between the two of you. His hand finds yours, fingers intertwining in an affectionate gesture.

The crew continues to celebrate around you, but in that moment, it feels as if the only thing that matters is the two of you. Zoros gaze never leaves you, the sound of your shared laughter rings through the air, and subtle yet affectionate touches are exchanged between you two. The world fades away when you and Zoro drink together, giving way to intimate moments between you and the swordsman. You know Zoro loves you when he only thinks of you when drinking. 

[wispystar]

☁︎·̩͙✧

spencer reid

✦ = finished | ✧ = not finished

Feel free to recommend me some more fics! If there is any author that doesn’t want their work on here pls let me know and I’ll remove it. Series are at the bottom. Be warned for spoilers. I will not be adding spoiler warings so tread lightly please lmk if links arent working

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A Well Kept Secret by @astrophileous

genre: angst, fluff, fem reader | summary: While working on a case in D.C., Spencer didn't expect to hear a familiar name being mentioned as the sole surviving witness. Or, in which the team discovers Spencer's well-kept secret. | tw/warnings: established secret relationship, mentions and/or depictions of death/physical violence/gun violence/injury/attack, signs of trauma, survivor's guilt, curse words, hurt/comfort, nudity but it's not sexual, allusions to sexy times, mentions/implied alcohol consumption

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A Little (Major) Crush by @radiant-reid

genre: fluff, slight angst, fem reader, bau reader | summary: Spencer's coldness is interpreted as hate for a very long time until a little admission leads to him accepting th truth

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A memorable hero by @/radiant-reid

genre: fluff, fem reader | summary: Y/n jumps into the arms of a random FBI agent when she unknowingly talks to a to unsub.

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All stitched up by @/radiant-reid

genre: fluff, fem reader, nurse reader | summary: Spencer's unexpected arrival at Y/n's work worries her

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all is fair in love and war by @/radiant-reid

genre: angst, fluff, fem reader, bau reader | summary: Can the team convince two arch-enemies that they’re in love with each other?

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Already gone . ii by @favficarchives

genre: angst, fem reader, bau reader | summary: The reader decides it’s time for her to move on, and Reid realizes it might be too late to stop her.

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Appalachian by @/imagining-in-the-margins

genre: fluff, slight angst, gn reader, bau reader | summary: Reader is tired of Spencer purposefully pushing their buttons and demands an explanation.

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babied by @reiderwriter

genre: fluff, fem reader, bau reader | summary: Can I request a Spencer babying the reader BAU and everyone on the team is so done with it but reader is confused and oblivious...?

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Bolinus Brandaris . ii by @violetrainbow412-blog

genre: fluff, fem reader, bau! reader summary: Reid loves the gift you just gave him and the whole team can notice.

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Bedtime Stories on the Jet by @imagining-in-the-margins

genre: fluff, gn reader, bau reader | summary: You and Spencer accidentally cuddle on the jet.

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Betting game by @/radiant-reid

genre: fluff, fem reader, bau reader | summary: the team betting on the two youngest agents relationship

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combat practice . ii by @/reiderwriter

genre:fluff, fem reader, bau! reader | summary: pining spencer reid and bau!reader who are brushing up on some hand to hand combat and reader is really invested on winning finally pins spencer down and reader is straddling spencer | notes: there’s a part two but I can’t find it :|

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Comme des garçon by @/imagining-in-the-margins

genre: fluff, fem reader, bau reader | summary: Reader chooses an interesting way to finally confess to dating Spencer.

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cuddles by @/radiant-reid

genre: angst, fluff, fem reader, dad! spencer | summary: A cuddle with his son is just the thing Spencer needs when he gets home from a hard case

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clingy by @/ddejavvu

genre: angst, fluff, gn reader | summary: When Spencer chides you for being too clingy, you decide to give him exactly what he wants; space.

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carriage six . ii by @avis-writeshq

genre: fluff, fem reader, strangers to lovers | summary: Spencer Reid prides himself in his routine. Wake up at half-past six. Leave his apartment at a quarter past seven. Get onto the seven thirty train. Arrive at Quantico at eight forty five. He has a plentiful of reasons as to why he does it; it’s efficient, it gets him to the office early, it works. But the biggest reason is the girl that always sits in the seat a few rows across from him, headphones on and always reading a book. 

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color theory by @inkdrinkerworld

genre: fluff, fem reader, bau reader | summary: okay wait i could totally see like kinda maybe insecure chubby reader who obvs likes Spence cuz who wouldn’t but afraid to make the first move and early seasons Spencer makes some off handed comment about how beautiful reader is like not even thinking about it maybe during a little tangent or something and r is just like

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Caught in a lie by @/radiant-reid

genre: fluff, fem reader, established relationship | summary: spencer catching you in a lie about a certain cardigan.

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despise by @leahblackk

genre: angst, fluff, fem reader, bau reader | summary: Reader is new in the BAU, Spencer doesn’t like changes therefore he doesn’t like reader.

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double vision in a rose blush by @irndad

genre: fluff, fem reader | summary: she is the best part of his days, his life, these days, really. the only problem is she never touches him

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Different ways to say ‘I love you’ by @aneveningsword

genre: fluff, gn reader | summary: 3 different ways Spencer shows he loves you

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Dad Spencer by @golden1u5t

genre: fluff, fem reader | summary: bringing lunch to the bau and hanging out with Spence

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Defining Family by @/imagining-in-the-margins

genre: fluff, angst, fem reader, dad Spencer | summary: Spencer finds out he’s a dad… to a twelve year old girl. Your twelve year old girl, who just broke into the FBI.

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Every single day by @/astrophileous

genre: fluff, angst, fem reader, dad Spencer | summary: When his daughter demands him to tell the story of how the two of you met, Spencer can't help but oblige.

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Flirt by @luveline

genre: fluff, slight angst, fem reader I summary: bombshell!reader hears one of the team members teasing about how she's torturing spencer and she kinda backs off with the flirting and maybe it's his turn to hold her hand and call her cute names because even though he always says he doesn't mind, maybe he does and he just doesn't want to tell her

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Familiar by @/radiant-reid

genre: angst, fluff, fem reader, bau reader | summary: Spencer’s secret way to sleep is revealed in a moment of upset

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Fever Dream by @/imagining-in-the-margins

genre: fluff, fem reader, bau reader | summary: Reader makes an accidental confession, which starts the most intense game of hide and seek.

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Flowers by @/ddejavvu

genre: fluff, gn reader(?), bau reader | summary: could you write abt spencer & bau!reader (secret relationship) and spencer having flowers delivered to their work and the note is really sweet (clearly from a boyfriend) and the team trying to figure out who she's seeing?

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Glasses by @/luveline

genre: fluff, fem reader summary: i NEED anything with glasses reid or munch reid i'm literally frothing at the mouth

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Guilt . ii by @holly-the-trash-writer

genre: angst, fem reader, bau! reader summary: Y/n lies unconscious in a hospital bed while Spencer drowns in guilt. You had felt that Spencer was cheating on you with Maeve and were going to stay with someone else before you got shot. Finding this out causes Spencer to snap and lash out at one of his closest friends.

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his picture in a gold locket by @luvingspence

genre: fluff, fem reader, early season Spence | summary: spencer gets emotional once he realises how much his girlfriend loves him <3

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how everyone found out by @/radiant-reid

genre: fluff, fem reader, bau reader | summary: a little blurb about how each of the team members found out about a secret BAU relationship

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In Ruins . ii by @weehelers

genre: angst, fem reader, bau! reader | summary: spencer reid has always had something against you. during a particular case, spencer snaps and says something he shouldn't have said leaving you in ruins. but what happens when your in danger and he still hasn't explained why he reacted the way he did. will he have the time? tw/warnings: kidnapping, normal cm warnings

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I can see you by @/reiderwriter

genre: angst, slight fluff, gn reader(?), bau reader | summary: Six months into your secret relationship, you're beginning to think that maybe Spencer doesn't love you the way you love him

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If you won’t do it, I will. by @/eideticallys

genre: fluff, angst, gn reader, bau reader| summary: you were so engrossed with images of you kissing Reid and him kissing you back that you forgot one detail—the man could wake up at any moment without you noticing. and he did wake up. You just failed to notice, too busy ogling his pink lips.

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I’ll Hold Your Weight When You Can’t by @shewroteaworld

genre: angst, fluff, fem reader, bau reader | summary: Brilliant sunshine!reader gets heat stroke on a case. Your best friend, Spencer Reid, is predictably worried about you. What he doesn't expect is to be forced to come to terms with his feelings for you. | tw/warnings:

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Just some light stalking by @constantlyembarrassed

genre: fluff, fem reader | summary: Penelope has been pushing Spencer Reid to get some form of social media for years. Suddenly, he has an Instagram acount?

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Key by @ddejavvu

genre: fluff, gn reader(?) | summary: spencer and reader start getting more comfortable in their relationship and they exchange keys to each others places, reader starts going over while hes away. just to chill because she misses him or borrow something or get something she left. but then dhe notices his apartment is a little messy and he doesnt have a lot of food in the fridge.

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lovely by @lighteyed

genre: fluff, fem reader, bau reader | summary: you think spencer's lovely.

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lipstick by @/radiant-reid

genre: angst, fluff, fem reader, bau reader | summary: Maybe, the secret to putting a murderer away is kissing someone you dislike

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little touches by @/radiant-reid

genre: fluff, fem reader, bau reader | summary: Just a few moments where Spencer learns how much he loves touches

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Misplaced by @/ddejavvu

genre: fluff, slight angst, fem reader, bau! reader summary: can i request spencer reid w bau!reader and their married but reader forgets to put her wedding ring back on and derek's asking spencer about what happened/if theyre having marital problems and spencer starts panciking but she just forgot about it in her pocket

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Meeting the team by @tinyluvs

genre: fluff, fem reader | summary: Being spencer’s girlfriend and meeting the team for the first time?

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Mirror by @moonstruckme

genre: fluff, gn reader, bau reader | summary: BAU!Reader and maybe her and Spencer starting to mimic each other because they've been together for a while and spend so much time together? Like the way they talk, etc!

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My wife . ii by @golden1u5t

genre: fluff, fem reader, bau reader, secret relationship | summary: where you and spencer are married in secret and someone says reid and they both turn around and say ‘yeah’ that’s how the team find out they’re together

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my petite protégée by @somethingubercool

genre: fluff, fem reader, bau reader | summary: Y/N is new to the BAU and works under Garcia. she finds herself being able to see something in the case no one else does, impressing the team, including a specific doctor

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New Shade of Green by @sweatervest-obsessed

genre: fluff, angst, gn reader, bau reader | summary: Spencer Reid and reader are in established relationship and on a case it happens that reader's best friend since childhood assists. And Spencer gets really jealous of their close friendship but is in denial.

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newly creds by @pathologicalreid

genre: fluff, fem reader, bau reader | summary: in which the BAU team wants to see your newly issued credentials

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Profilers Profiled by @/radiant-reid

genre: angst, fluff, fem reader, bau reader | summary: Cat Adams exposes a secret relationship

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Patch Me Up? Always by @weird-is-life

genre: fluff, fem reader, emt! reader I summary: Spencer accidently reveals your relationship, while you patch him up

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Packed Lunch by @john-get-the-salt

genre: fluff, fem reader, established relationship, secret relationship | summary: One morning Spence is in a rush to leave for work and forgets his lunch. You know he gets cranky when he gets hungry, so that only leaves one option.

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Perhaps One Day by @amberjazmyn

genre: fluff, fem reader, bau reader, established relationship | summary: five times the bau think spencer has proposed to reader + the one time he actually has

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Play Dates by @/imagining-in-the-margins

genre: fluff, gn reader, bau reader | summary: Reader finds out Spencer hasn’t had enough dates to play Best/Worst Date with the team and offers several Play Dates, but quickly realizes it’s hard to have a bad date with Spencer Reid.

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Personal Google . ii by @reidyoulikeabook

genre: fluff, gn reader, bau reader | summary: Spencer is your own personal Google. He always knows the answer to anything you ask him.

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Recharging… by @railingsofsorrow

genre: fluff, fem reader, | summary: spencer's best remedy is his little family.

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Short Circuit by @/tinyluvs

genre: fluff, gn reader, established relationship I summary: dating spencer and you come to visit or something and make him so distracted that he literally can't info dump on something and the rest of the team is just shocked

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Sweater by @/radiant-reid

genre: fluff, fem reader, bau reader | summary: On a case in Montana, Y/n’s only coat gets ruined. Luckily, Spencer had a hoodie

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Soft spot by @/luveline

genre: fluff, fem reader, bau! reader | summary: your singular soft spot for spencer rises to the surface when you get hurt in the field. tw/warnings: hospitals, injury

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still mad at you by @/irndad

genre: angst, fluff(?), fem reader | summary: Spencer can’t sleep without you, even if you’re fighting.

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sick by @/ddejavvu

genre: fluff, fem reader| summary: What about spencer with a reader who is normally so independent and does everything for herself but she’s so soft for spencer and lets him dote on her and take care of her and the team is like :o bc they can’t believe she is letting someone do things for her

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Smells Fishy by @/radiant-reid

genre: fluff, fem reader, bau reader | summary: Out of place perfume and cologne give away a secret relationship of the BAU.

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Soulmates by @/radiant-reid

genre: fluff, fem reader, bau reader | summary: Everyone knew Y/n and Spencer would be the perfect couple, it was just a shame he left the BAU before she joined. 

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secrets . ii by @007reid

genre: fluff, slight angst, fem reader | summary: spencer will never be able to escape the effortless wrath of derek morgan, not even when it's the weekends and breaking bad is playing and you're pulling on his hair.

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surprise by @toriwakes

genre: fluff, fem reader | summary: reid’s new girlfriend decides to surprise him at work.

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Secrets out by @/radiant-reid

genre: fluff, fem reader, bau reader | summary: a coffee cup reveals a relationship

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secrets and onesies by @/wheelsup

genre: fluff, fem reader, dad Reid | summary: in which spencer is hiding two secrets from you. one, that he knows you’re pregnant, and two, that he’s more than ready for it.

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The jacket . ii by @in-my-shifting-era

genre: fluff, fem reader, bau reader | summary: when in Boston for a case in mid January reader regrets not being a warmer jacket.

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The guaranteed way to get sleep by @/radiant-reid

genre: fluff, fem reader, bau reader | summary: Spencer is the only one who can recognize the signs of needing someone in the new agent

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Two of us . ii . iii by @spencerreidreads

genre: angst, fem reader, bau reader | summary: working with your partner can be hard especially when the relationship is over

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Tying the knot by @/radiant-reid

genre: fluff, fem reader | summary: a blurb or fic about reader and spencer reid’s wedding day? just lots of fluff and happiness can you do one based on “we belong together” by ritchie valens

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thats my wife by @wheelsup

genre: fluff, slight angst(?), fem reader, bau reader | summary: you and spencer have always had a relationship that some refer to as 'work spouses'. it's not until the addition of a new, handsome employee, that spencer has to challenge what that really means to him.

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Unwell by @/radiant-reid

genre: fluff, fem reader | summary: Instead of getting looked after, Spencer is the one doing the looking after when he realizes his girlfriend is sick.

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unexpected . ii by @michelle-is-writing

genre: angst, fluff, fem reader, bau reader, pregnant reader | summary: it’s hard being in love with a man whose heart is already taken.

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Unbelievable but verified by @/radiant-reid

genre: fluff, fem reader, bau reader | summary: The BAU's newest member comes prepared to join the team with a tiny crush on the man who wrote her three favorite thesis papers.

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Under the Rain by @aperrywilliams

genre: angst, fem reader, established relationship | summary: Reader is waiting for Spencer in a restaurant to celebrate their 2nd anniversary. What happens when Spencer doesn't show up?

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worried by @/moonstruckme

genre: slight angst, fem reader, bau reader | summary: Spencer is losing his mind when reader is in a dangerous situation and the team doesn’t understand why he’s panicking so much but then he accidentally reveals to the team that he’s been dating reader for awhile

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White Lies by @/moonstruckme

genre: fluff, gn reader(?), bau reader | summary: when you come back to work soon after getting injured on a case, your priority is keeping the public safe from your latest unsub; Spencer's priority is keeping you safe

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Winter Cold by @/john-get-the-salt

genre: fluff, gn reader, bau reader | summary: A run-of-the-mill winter cold becomes the thing that finally reveals your secret to the team.

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Worry Free by @/radiant-reid

genre: fluff, fem reader | summary: After the issues of Spencer’s past year, JJ is worried for him, until she finds out an incredibly interesting piece of information

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Who's Your Barber? by @eideticallys

genre: fluff, gn reader, bau reader | summary: “you move fast, kid.” he turned to spencer who looked like he was on the verge of passing out. “letting Y/N cut your hair without going on a first date.”

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What’s in a name . ii by @/radiant-reid

genre: fluff, fem reader, bau reader, mom reader | summary: Spencer accidentally gets misidentified by a little kid whose mom means the world to him

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Your Casanova by @dr-spencer-reids-queen

genre: fluff, fem reader, pilot reader | summary: You're the team's jet pilot who always looks forward to spending time with Spencer Reid. His love for you is unconditional.

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You Already Said Yes by @/dr-spencer-reids-queen

genre: fluff, fem reader | summary: Spencer comes home to find your wedding ring on his office desk, and his thoughts run wild.

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You Think I'm Delicious? by @/eideticallys

genre: fluff, fem reader, established relationship | summary: all your dreams and hopes of getting cuddly with spencer were shattered when he uttered those six words “i don’t like your new perfume.”

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4+1 cuddling by @/radiant-reid

genre: fluff, slight angst, fem reader, bau reader | summary: The four times they cuddled before becoming a couple and the one time they cuddled afterward.

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✧ A-Z by @spencereidluver

genre: fluff, angst, fem reader, bau! reader | summary: moments of your life with Spencer

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more this way ---> spencer reid . ii

[deafsignifcantother]

new awlins library

♥ summary: just a cute little thing of alastor liking a deaf librarian yay ♥ relationships: human alastor x deaf reader ♥ word count: 1.1k ♥ notes: silly alastor, alastor pining, reader is shy and doesn't interact with people, reader has a crush on him too lowkey, customer favoritism ong

Alastor watched from afar, his eyes peaking out from over his book.

You were replacing the flowers in the vase on the front desk of your library. Your hands moved delicately, putting each flower in one by one. No matter how hard he tried to focus on the sentences before him, his pupils couldn't resist dilating at the sight of you.

He moved chairs so you weren't in his view anymore.

After finishing your task, you turned, and your eyes scanned the lobby to see what other decorations you needed to fix. Only for a second were you oblivious about his sudden seating change, but when your eyes landed on him, you smiled softly. The back of his head was not as well brushed as the front, and when you had greeted him that morning, you noticed how tired he looked. The time was 6am, right when you opened. He waited outside the door in the cold for the moment you'd allow him in. So then he sat, half-asleep and very distracted, trying to spend as much time in your presence before starting his daily routine. He had started doing this frequently, to the point where you began placing a black coffee by the table he'd position himself and scurrying off before he could try to return it. The first time he took a gulp of your drinks, he realized how easily you could have gotten away with poisoning him. How alluring, he thought to himself with a smile.

Obviously, you would never poison him. You loved having him around; he was a valued customer with an attractive face. He only ever picked up books from the French section, and when you realized he was running out of stories to read, you ordered a bunch of new ones. When he first noticed this, he smiled and eyed the new batch.

You don't show this particular interest to any other customer; you're pretty shy, hesitant, and withdrawn—the other employees are the ones who interact with them. There's a language barrier between you and seemingly everybody else. Besides paper and pen, you are considered a 'struggle' to communicate with, and you know there's nothing you can do to prevent that.

It's just the way things are. But Alastor actually puts in effort to interact with you, waiting outside the library every time you have a morning shift.

✣

You pick a French book from the shelf that is obviously out of place. Nobody touches the French books except him, but is this from another person? Honestly, you feel it's more likely he put it there just to mess with you. You smile, inspecting the cover and the pages inside.

A gloved hand reaches for the book, and your eyes follow the hand up to that same handsome, smiling man. His eyes twinkle with mischief, his mouth open in a silent laugh.

He tucks the book into his armpit. "Goodness me, I must have put it in the wrong section!"

In an instant, your heart starts beating faster than ever. Stuck in place with your eyes wide, Alastor stares at you with a bit of surprise. His eyes dart all around your face, and as he tries to come up with an explanation for why you're looking at him with such shock. Did he scare you? Do you... recognize him from somewhere?

But no, your heart is racing, and your mind is scrambling to process that a man here knows sign language. He has an accent, sure; he signs up high on his body, but with how unsure his sentences are, you know he needs to gain experience. He signs and is quite a loyal consumer; he's almost like the man of your dreams.

"No, no, no, it's alright." You sign with one hand before taking the book from his arm, and you place it on top of the others in your other hand. "Don't even worry about it."

"I do insist." His sign lasted more than a few movements. And then he puts his hand in front of you for you to place the book into. Truthfully, for a slight second, you considered placing your hand into his.

Your brain battles between continuing your work or indulging in this man. With an eyebrow raised, his eyes study you in a hard stare. You don't give in to his command and instead stand your ground, eyeing him back. The both of you are stuck with locked eyes. He pulls his hand back when he notices that you aren't budging.

"Now that I think about it," he starts, "I'd much appreciate it if you showed me where the correct section is!"

He's been in the French section many times.

You smile at him, a lopsided smile of adoration; there's no subtlety to whatever interest he has. So you bow your head sarcastically and turn away from him, walking past the shelves. He follows you with his hands tucked behind his back. He can't see the widening smile on your face and how you're practicing hiding it. He's rather charming, you can admit.

Not even checking behind you to see if he's following, you approach the correct section and place the book where it is meant to be. He raises his eyebrows when you glance up at him and try not to give in to his contagious, eccentrically bright smile.

"Fantastic, thank you!"

And again, the two of you stare at each other, waiting for the other to move. You want him to continue talking, to whisk you away from your job. He's waiting for you to ask his name or something else about him.

But you use both of your hands to hold the books in your hand against your chest.

Fine. He starts pondering his next move: does he end this interaction for today, or would it be better if he took a step closer to you?

He can't stop his eyes from glancing down at the joyous smile on your lips. He's making you smile; that's good. Perhaps that will be all for now.

He dips his head and presses a hand to his chest. You watch him and the way a strand of his hair falls into his face. His brown eyes land on yours. "And I will let you get back to your work."

You nod, your foot moving away from him before you pause. Your eyes go from his beautiful eyes to the floor with shyness. With a bow of your head, you begin to walk away, returning to your previous task. He straightens his spine and adjusts his sleeve before turning away.

Quite a success. What's next? He may try putting an English book in the French section. Or should he hide the books all around the library?

His everlasting smile grows at the thought. He's so excited to tell his mother about the interaction he's finally had. She's heard quite a lot about you.

[rinkaitoons]

Team Gai 🐢

I selected flowers not only by color, but also based on their symbolism. Each picture has a description and explanation attached🍒

Lee - Strelitzia

It is believed that Strelitzia is a symbol of masculinity, determination and victory, and promotes mutual understanding and goodwill in relationships between people. This plant also awakens a craving for spiritual growth and sublimity.

Neji - Chrysanthemum

In the Land of the Rising Sun, the celestial body and the chrysanthemum are symbolized by one hieroglyph. Until the 19th century, it could only be depicted on imperial paraphernalia as a sign of power, dignity and honor. Chrysanthemums symbolize fidelity, nobility, modesty and peace.

Ten Ten - Alstraemeria

Alstroemeria has many meanings in different nations, but more often the flower is associated with good intentions, support, faithful and strong friendship.

Gai - Snowdrop

Snowdrop flowers are a symbol of spring, hopes for a happy future. The earliest flower, despite its fragile appearance, perfectly combines the naivety of youth and inner strength and perseverance.

[outsideratheart]

Us (Alexia Putellas x reader)

A/N: I have no idea where this came from but it has been stuck in my head for a few weeks. I hope you guys like it!

You had been in the most important meeting of your career when you received a message.  You never turned your phone off in case there was an emergency but you did put it on do not disturb. The small vibration in your pocket told you 1 of 2 people were trying to get in touch with you. Your manager was in the meeting with you so it only left one person.

I need you, please can you come over.

As far as Alexia was aware you were in England. Your mind went to the worse case scenario because it had to be something bad if she was asking you to get on a plane and fly to Barcelona with no explanation. 

In the politest way possible you excuse yourself from the meeting and leave your future in the safe hands of your manager, who upon seeing your face backs your decision to leave without asking any questions.

A quick text is sent to your girlfriend saying that you are on your way but there’s no response. You try calling only there is no answer. By the time you get to her apartment building you are filled with worry and you waste no time in running up the stairs having no patience to wait for the elevator.

When you knock on the door you are not met by your girlfriend. 

“You’re the lion?” The resemblance was even more striking up close. You had met Alba once or you had at least been in the same room as her.

“Technically I’m a lioness” 

It makes a little more sense now. No one was aware of your relationship and in order to keep the questions at bay you didn’t save each others phone number under a name, instead it was an emoji. Yours was a lion due your national team’s nickname and your on pitch persona. Hers was a crown because she was your queen and known by the fans as La Reina.

“Alba let her in” another woman, Alexia’s mother, guides you through the apartment even though you have been here enough times to know your way around.

“You’re the girl my daughter has been seeing”  

“I am and I will happily introduce myself and answer any questions you may have after I have seen her”

“She’s in the living room. When we came she was crying and she won’t talk to any of us” one of Alexia’s best friends says.

It didn’t look good. Her mother, sister and best friend all at your girlfriends apartment yet she is refusing to talk to any of them

The three woman give you some space as you enter the living room. All of them hoped that you would have more luck at finding out what was wrong.

“Hello you” you crouch down so that you are at her level and without saying a word Alexia wraps her arms around you tightly. The speed of it almost sends you both to the ground but you steady yourself just in time.

Once on the sofa Alexia buries her face in the crook of your neck.

“How are you here?”

“That doesn’t matter. Alexia, what is wrong?”

“They won’t leave me alone. It’s like they are obsessed with my personal life. I’m happy, why isn’t that enough for them? Why do they need to get involved and keep bringing up the past?”

You were at a loss. Yes you were aware of the spotlight that was constantly on Alexia, one was on you as well but you had been dating for almost 2 years now and nobody was the wiser. 

“Who cariño?” Eli asks from the other side of the room. 

“The girls. They think that because Jenni signed for Atleti that we are going to get back together. We finally got back to a good place during the World Cup and no one seems to understand that we are just friends. We are Y/N, I promise nothing is going on” Alexia turns to look at you.

During the World Cup you saw the rumours and they spread quickly given that everyone assumes Alexia is single. At first it bothered you but the two of you talked about it and you realised that you were jealous for no reason. Alexia was your girl and only yours.

“I know” deep down you hated that she was still getting linked to another woman but it wasn’t a threat to your relationship so you let it go.

“They are going to ruin everything. They don’t even know and they are ruining—“

“Alexia, nobody is ruining anything. Let your friends talk. At the end of the day it is me and you”

The three other women in the room watched and listened as you talked Alexia through her panic. You were able to calm her and bring her peace in a moment that was very overwhelming for her.

“But Jenni is—“

“Jenni is your past and that cannot be changed. What have I told you?” You ask your girlfriend.

The woman who is still cuddled into your side mumbles something incoherent and you know she is mumbling because she doesn’t want the other women to know the words you told her during the summer.

“She’s your first love Alexia, I intend to be your last” you kiss the corner of her mouth. 

The sound of awes burst the little bubble that you had formed around you and Alexia. Clearly embarrassed, Alexia once again hides herself. 

Knowing that the two of you can’t ignore the introduction that the women are waiting for, Alexia officially introduces you to Eli, Alba and Miri as her girlfriend. 

“What happens now?” Alexia asks you “Do we tell people? I don’t want our bubble to break, everything is normal with you. We are Y/N and Alexia but when people find out we will be captains, players and rivals”

“Hey, calm down. They will change but we won’t. Do you want to be us normal or what everyone else expects us to be?”

“Us normal”

“Well then I am going to drive you back to your training facility, open the door for you like I always do, I’ll kiss you goodbye and then you’re going to go to work”

Your confidence was reassuring to all in the room.

Alexia tells you that she is going to freshen up in the bathroom which leaves you alone with three of the most important people in her life. Your media training comes in very handy as you are able to answer all of Alba’s and Miri’s questions without hesitation or breaking a sweat. However, Eli’s question catches you off guard.

“You’re the reason why Alexia didn’t come back to the room after the awards show in Dubai aren’t you?”

“Guilty but nothing happened” technically it was the truth, nothing did happen that night “We spent the night in the hotel bar talking then went to the beach to watch the sunrise”

“Can I ask you a question?” Alba says “If you were in England when you received the text would have come?”

“I would have been on the first flight out, yes”

It seemed to enough to please the younger Putellas because she simply nodded her head.

Once Alexia was ready you did as you said. The two of you drove to Joan Camper, Alexia quizzed you the entire car journey because you still hadn’t told her why you were in Barcelona. You open the door for her as expected but what Alexia didn’t expect was you to walk with her into the facility.

“I love that you care but you don’t have to do this for me, I can handle it” 

“Who says I’m doing it for you”

The two of you stop in front of the canteen. It was surrounded by glass windows and you can see the majority of the team eating their lunch.

“Us normal?” You ask Alexia and she nods her head. As you normally would whenever you visited her or she visited you, you kissed her once on the lips and then once on her hairline as she hugged you goodbye.

“Wait! Where are you going?” Alexia asks as you don’t go in the direction of the exit. 

“You asked how I’m here. Well, I have a job interview with your boss” 

[cecilioque]

The Submas Designs are a lot more clever than you thought.

First lets look at the Submas overall design.  We know that the original design was intended to make the Subway Bosses look like clowns and kind of creepy (that backfired); hence the comically large shoes and exaggerated expressions. Let’s start to break down each part of the design. 

To begin, The Submas extreme expressions are a possible reference to the symbol of theatre; the mask of Tragedy and the Mask of Comedy.  The mask of tragedy is commonly portrayed frowning ( not necessarily cry) on a black base mask while the mask of Comedy is portrayed smiling on a white base masks. Sometimes these masks are gold or split black and white color.  The masks together represent the two extremes of the human psyche. Definitely the contrast we see between Emmet's smile and Ingo’s frown.

Next up, the coats.  These are obviously designed to look like train tracks.  The vertical grey lines representing the rails, the red brown the tie (the wood connecting the rails), and the buttons are the spikes that secure the track.  You can see the pattern best on the back of the Submas coat.  Looking at it you could laugh and say “I guess that makes the Subway boss themselves the train”, and you know what? You’re right.

This brings us to the most interesting part of their design, the color and pose.  Yes, there is an explanation to the silly pose too.  It’s so silly that we can just brush this whole design off as being another funny Pokemon character design; but unfortunately it’s actually thought out.  

The Submas themselves are the New York Subway. Or at least they are the personified version of it.  Let’s look at the colors again.  Black and White.  Very fitting for a game literally called Pokemon Black and White.  That alone brings us to some interesting comparisons with the game themes and pokemon.

Kudari or (Emmet in the English version) wears all white. He values routine and rules and is ultimately pretty point blank.  We can easily make that conclusion that  Emmet represents Reshiram and truth. If we break down his name we see that in Japanese it means something along the lines of “down train” or moving away/going down hill.  The different translations usually mean the same, except the name “Emmet” is a bit out of place.  A lot of people say the Submas names in English are most likely to be puns of “Ingoing and Emitting”.  But my crazy self did more digging and found that Emmet means “truth” specifically universal truth.  This name goes back to old German, Irish, and even Hebrew. All looping back to Reshiram and themes of the game. (On a funny side note, Emmet is also the Cornish word for ant; so Emmet having a Durant is really funny. ) 

Next up is Nobori or Ingo who wears a black coat and appears frowning. Despite that , his is very encouraging and excited about moving forward. This makes sense since the name Nobori in Japanese more or less means to move up/forward ( specifically up a mountain).  That’s why a lot of people believe that the poor man was eebie deebied for the pun because Warden Ingo works on Mt. Coronet. In English, Ingo is thought to be a shortened version of “Ingoing” which also aligns with not only the Japanese name but the character’s reoccurring theme of progress, moving forward, and ideals. In this sense Ingo very much represents Zekrom and ideals. 

Truth and ideals, Reshiram and Zekrom, Tragedy and comedy, white and Black.  All very good interpretations and symbolism for two funny train men. I would be satisfied with just knowing that, but no; the Submas are also a funny gijinka of the New York Subway.  This is the part the has me laughing at how simple it is and yet we just easily accepted that they were just a bit strange.

Take a look at this. This is a Zebra Board.  

Yep, it’s black and white. And do you know what? This MTA sign only appears in the New York subway.  What does it do?  These are used by conductors to indicate safety and that the train has lined up in the station. Every time the subway comes into the station, the conductor has to physically point at this board/bar to indicate that it is safe for the doors to open. The action is called "point and call" or "point and acknowledge".  This practice is used in a few other train/subway stations (such as Japan), but the black and white board is New York specific. The pose of the submas suddenly makes a lot of sense.

Other Important notes observations.

The Submas face represents the front of the train.  So their eyes are the lights (hence Ingos glowing eyes in PLA), their side burns are cow catchers ( see graphic), and the Medalion on the hat is round like a train number plate.  Another interesting thing is that the Submas use airline Captain Pilot hats like Japanese train conductors use.  The only part of their outfit that confuses me is the arm bands.  This is more of a police uniform element and not a train conductor thing.

so to conclude, the Submas are basically a reference to in game themes, Reshiram/Zekrom, Trains, and literally the New York subway

I am not an expert. These are just my observations. I could be completely wrong.  Take and add what you would like to.  If you have more to add about the design, feel free to reblog that info. I would also like to see your interpretation.

[chaiifluuf]

Underneath the stars, looking for a sign — d. osamu

synopsis. dazai stops by your apartment well past midnight, seeking out to you for solace

content. pm!dazai, pm!reader, fem!reader, angst(?), reverse comfort, unestablished relationship, a mention of double suicide

notes. my writing makes me want to sink six feet underground cuz this looked better in my head :,)

dazai thinks he shouldn’t be here.

not only was it past midnight but he has never appeared out of blue like this on your doorstep either.

with a quiet breath he knocks on your door. a moment passes and nothing happens. he expected this because why would you be awake right now? this must be his last chance to leave and the temptation to do so grows with each second. dazai doesn’t see a point in knocking for a second time if you really were asleep. yeah, he should go, stop bothering you and get a hold of himself. just what was he even—

as dazai is about to turn around, he hears the sound of fiddling from the door lock and freezes in place. were you not asleep? 

the door opens and he’s greeted by your noticeably sleepy figure. so you actually heard his one time knocking through your slumber.

“osamu?” you break the silence with your soft, somewhat confused tone. while he did hear you say his name, all his mind could focus was on you. god how did you always manage to look so perfect? your hair is rather messy, your face seemed tired, you were wearing an oversized shirt with pyjama shorts that had strawberries on it. all of that and you still looked breathtaking to him. he then quickly realises that he needs to say something.

“hey, sorry i woke you up.” dazai responds shortly, hoping you didn’t notice his staring. you blink once then twice, his words not giving you any sort of explanation. “did something happen.? it’s the middle of the night right now…” you question while slightly leaning against the doorframe. he can hear the sleep in your voice. 

“well, i guess i was wondering if you were feeling up for a double suicide?” a familiar, subtle yet playful smile appears on his lips, his tone calm. it doesn’t phase you in the least. your brows furrow and you give him an odd look, not falling for his antics.

“you think i’ll actually believe that? what’s the real reason?” you respond with a tired sigh yet the small concern is there. of course you wouldn’t fall for that, you knew him better than anyone else. but it was worth a try.

dazai isn’t certain what answer to give you right away. he swears his mind has gone blank the moment you appeared before him. 

“can i stay here tonight?” he asks instead, dodging the question. his voice came out softer than he expected and he’s sure he seems pathetic now, the regret coming here slowly returning.

your brows raise a little in surprise. you were still sure something is up but the way how different he was acting from his usual self made you even more worried.

“you can but I can’t guarantee that my couch is the comfiest thing to sleep on.” you say after a moment, a yawn escaping past your lips afterwards. dazai lets out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. he couldn’t bring himself to care where he was supposed to sleep, if it was at your apartment that alone is already enough for him.

he comes inside and when he makes it to the living room, you speak up: “i’ll get you a blanket and a pillow.” you mention before going to the bedroom.

dazai returns his gaze to your living room, noticing all the small parts of you decorating the space: different scented candles on your window sills, fairy lights hanging on the wall, a phone charger laying on the floor, a vase of lilies placed on the table and next to it a plate with a few muffins on it. reminds dazai of the time you told him how you sometimes liked to bake in your free time and that he should definitely taste them on another day. you really had a bright personality for someone who works for the port mafia.

even from far away and the room still being rather dark, he could tell they looked delicious and probably tasted even better. dazai believes anything made by you would simply be perfect. he has seen the way your eyes shine whenever you talk about things you’re passionate about and he feels like he could listen to you forever. just your voice was enough to make his day better.

you come back with the bed linen that you promised to get, setting it down on the couch. you almost immediately notice dazai’s glance directed to your muffins and a smile grows on your face.

“go ahead and try it, i promise they’re the best muffins i have ever made.” you say with a pleased tone, clearly proud of yourself. he turns his gaze back to you, letting out a soft chuckle. “i’m sure they are, i just don’t really have an appetite right now.” he’s aware that he hasn’t eaten anything in the past few hours because he just can’t bring himself to do so.

but dazai regretted saying that instantly, seeing how your smile faltered.

“that’s fine.” you tell him calmly and shrug it off but he knew that wasn’t entirely true. he really hoped you didn’t take this the wrong way since the last thing he’d want is to upset you. his lips part to say something but no words come out. however, you have already decided to change the topic.

“so, are you going to tell me why you’re actually here?” your eyes are tender yet a little serious at the same time as you look at him. you really weren’t letting that question go but he couldn’t blame you. you had every right to ask that.

a moment of silence passes before dazai replies: “felt like it.” it’s not like he can tell you the real reason. he’s not ready to explain how corrupted his thoughts were back at his dull and cold shipping container, how his own mind started overwhelming him and how he needed to leave from there just so he could breathe normally again. everything seemed meaningless and tiring before the thought of you entered his head. 

he found the fact that thinking about you helped him calm down kind of ridiculous. over time he has gotten more attached to you than he likes to admit. you are the only person who has managed to get this close to his heart, heart that he thought was incapable of feeling anything other than emptiness.

your features softened after hearing him. dazai is not sure why because surely you have no idea what he was feeling. did his expression give him away? he hopes not.

“if you don’t want to tell me then just say so, okay?” dazai will never comprehend how understanding you were. he was being unfair to you and yet here you were not pushing anything out of him with that kind look in your eyes. making it seem as if he deserved any of that. 

“anyways i’m going back to bed now. good night, osamu.” a yawn leaves your mouth as soon as you say that and you send him one last glance before walking to your bedroom. dazai replies with a quiet good night as well and you close the door behind you.

he sighs before putting his black coat away and deciding to lay down. he stares at the ceiling and even with closing his eyes from time to time, falling asleep is near impossible as always. and you were right, this couch is starting to feel uncomfortable. dazai lifts himself up and looks at your closed door. he guesses that about half an hour has passed since you left, you must be asleep by now. dazai can’t help but envy you for getting sleep so easily. the rest he receives is usually by passing out from exhaustion.

staying the whole night here was hopeless, he’s already aware of that. but then he gets a new idea. he stands up and stops in front of your door. dazai hesitates because what if you were awake? that would make this more awkward but he could complain about the couch and that’d give him an excuse. an excuse to sleep next to you.

he stops himself from dwelling on the matter too much and very gently opens the door. the moment he steps in, he’s greeted with your peaceful state, vague moonlight shining down on you. dazai can feel his heart swell because how is someone simply sleeping able to look this stunning? he slowly moves next to your bed, to the left side that had more space and, as carefully as he can, slips between your sheets. this is much more comfortable in comparison to your couch.

dazai lets his head rest against the pillow, his eyes locked on you since fortunately you were facing his side. there is a soft glint in his eyes as he gently tucks some of your hair strands behind your ear. your face features were even prettier close up and after a while he realises something. a part of him wishes to wake up like this everyday, your face being the first thing he’ll see, the chance to be this close to you. a true luxury that dazai thinks he would never be deserving of. after all, why would a person like you be with someone like him?

a subtle noise from you is enough to snap him out of his trance. he wonders if you’re about to wake up but before he could come to a conclusion, you shift a little and slightly nuzzle your face to the palm of his hand that was laying beside you. dazai’s body tenses as he isn’t sure if he should pull his hand away or not. there was no way that you knew he was here. looks like you just stirred in your sleep. he let out a relieved breath, gradually relaxing again. just the warmth radiating from you is more than enough to ease his worries. 

dazai wonders if you know how much you mean to him. probably not. he could never express it enough anyway. but it also scares him because that means the world can rip you away from him in any moment and he literally doesn’t know what he’ll do if that were to happen. dazai told himself from the beginning that he should avoid you at all costs but he has already failed that part. you had him hooked around your finger in a way that you didn’t even realise.

he closes his eyes, now focusing on your touch and faint breathing. maybe if you are right next to him he could doze off for a little while. he can imagine your reaction once you’re aware he’s in your bed in the morning but it will be worth it. anything is worth it as long as it’s with you. dazai decides to make one small promise before trying to focus on sleeping.

he will definitely try your muffins later.

hope this was okay, thank you if you made it this far ^^

[janus-cadet]

This card is brighter than the one I usually do- might even be the most colorful of the whole deck, so far! Which- fitting. Today, let's welcome Charlie Morningstar and Vaggie, double figures for the Ten of Cups!

(Now usually, the card also have one or two more people on it; I thought about adding Pentious, but our snake should have his card soon enough. Therefore, it's just the girls.)

Explanations under the cut, as well as a poll for the next card to draw, and the rest of the Hazbin tarot cards!

Upright, the Ten of Cups embodies happiness, joy, and emotional contentment. You have created an abundance of love and happiness in your life, and you now share this love with others, expanding your heart even more. This fits Charlie and what she created with her hotel, supported by Vaggie- together, they are the start of it all. You are now surronded by your loved ones (it's a fucking happy day in hell!), with whom you share a powerful and deep connection. You support one another, and you help other to reach their highest potential- on the path to redemption! Most of all, you do it because seeing others happy is the greatest joy you could have. It's the "happy family" card by excellence, as well as a positive card for romantic relationships- you're in a blissful one, if that's what you're looking for, to the point you may believe that you ar soulmates destined to be with one another (I do love them, mh, mh). When the card appears in your reading, it's time for you to take a step back, and appreciate everything you accomplished. You went through hard time, but look at that! You can do this, now we know it, and you actually did. Follow your heart, says the card, and follow your inner sens of Good.

Reversed, the card brings more subtility. You can see the Upright reading as mostly Charlie's idealistic view on the hotel and on redemption; but with the reversed Ten of Cups come the struggles. You may feel disconnected and disengaged from your loved ones, like your estranged father and your missing mother. You try to connect, but each times, something goes wrong, and the distance between you grows. Why does he forgets everything you say? Can't he pay attention? Why is he not calling more often? Or maybe you're afraid to trust, and you're keeping some secrets close to your chest. You don't open up enough, and you create, without meaning to, a distance with others, with her. You're too rash and too impulsive, but you mean well- surely, they can see that? It may have an impact on your relationship; you need to realise that nothing is perfect, and every relationship has its ups and downs. The Ten of Cups invite you to seek out a common ground with your loved ones, and rebuild the relationship from there. Talk to your father about why, exactly, he's so reluctant to help; talk to your partner about who you are, and where you came from. Open the lines of communication and be ready to hold space for one another. Be compassionate, understanding, and respectful. The card can also mean that you're starting to doubt yourself, and what you are doing. Is it really worth it? Are you up to the task? Are you letting other people down? You have to rethink those questions. Think about what makes you happy, what you believe in, and bring back your focus to that.

And that's it for today! I'm planning to do at least three more Hazbin cards- if the fixation does not die by then. Not that it shows any sign of slowing down, oh boy- they are all so fun to draw, too!

Anyway.

And with that, Hazbin Hotel verse is the most represented fandom in my whole deck of cards, right before Doctor Who. Ah!

If you have read this far- well done. So proud of you. You win a peach cider, if you're even able to drink this abomination. And paf, the rest of the cards!

[lazycats-stuff]

Hello, hope you'er having a good day/night

I was wondering if I could request the 141 team x male reader who gets mald by a strange large dog, at first they wonder if the dog had rabies but it was perfect healthy, but yet reader get extremely sick and there is no explanation.

When reader recovers he has super human strength and speed, and gets irritated faster which is unusual.

All the sudden change causing anxiety that he might he hurt someone or worst. (Reader turning into a werewolf)

You sure can! Alrighty, lets go! I'm pumped today for some reason... Also, sorry for taking this long 😣😣😣, also (C/S) = call sign

Summary: (Y/N) got bit by a dog on a mission. Everything was fine until he got extremely ill.

Warnings: military inaccuracies, flu, seizures, shifting, werewolf, characters are probably OOC

Also, is it just me or is Barry Sloane extremely hot?

(Y/N) leaned his head back as they were driving to their target's location. The mission was capture or kill, as Ghost had before they had all left. Unfortunately, their target location was in the woods, which made (Y/N) rather... Jumpy. He was never fond of the woods and the fact that it was so far into the woods was not good for (Y/N).

" Alright, listen up! " Price started, attracting attention from his squad. " We have already separated into teams. (Y/N) and Gaz, you are with Ghost and Soap is with me. We have our back up and since the house is separated into two part, each team will cover one. " Price finished, gripping his rifle.

Ghost looked at the youngest member of the task force. (Y/N) (L/N), also known as (C/S). Ghost tolerated him, but never gave him mercy on the mat. He was always tough on him, but (Y/N) didn't mind.

" Nervous? " Ghost asked (Y/N), making the youngest turn his head.

" I'm not a fan of woods that's all. " (Y/N) gave Ghost a short explanation. Ghost didn't say anything, he simply got up when the truck stopped.

(Y/N) took a quiet breath in and got up too. (Y/N) followed Ghost and with the rest of the back up they started moving quietly towards the houses. They parked far enough so that they won't be heard.

Both teams moved quietly and by some sort of luck, (Y/N)'s team got the house that was a bit further in the woods. Bastards. (Y/N) sighed as he moved quietly behind Ghost.

" Scared (C/S)? " Ghost teased.

" In your dreams lieutenant. " (Y/N) bit back.

Ghost didn't respond as he kicked the door in, entering quietly and swiftly. Everyone aimed the rifles and spread out through the ground floor. It was very rich house and (Y/N) felt a ping of jealousy. When he was younger, he wanted live in such a house. But not in the woods.

Ghost took down a man and (Y/N) progressed more into the house. He saw the kitchen that was leading to the terrace and he went to check it out. He slid the glass door open and he stepped out into the cold air. He cleared the deck, but stopped when he heard rustling.

He took a deep breath, steadying his hands. He needs to check it out, it could be the enemy, but also it could be an animal ready to maul him.

(Y/N) doesn't get paid enough for this at all. He went down the stairs, putting on his night vision goggles. He listened for the rustling sound before he heard a growl.

He had no time to even turn around, before he felt a something bite him. It attacked him from behind him, biting down head on his leg. (Y/N) let out a grunt as he fell down, face first onto the ground. He tried to turn around, but the thing was heavy and unrelenting.

(Y/N) tried to kick it with it's free leg, but he couldn't aim. A gunshot rang out and the thing whimpered and ran off. (Y/N) looked up, seeing Gaz at the window. (Y/N) let out a sigh of relief as he tried to get up. His leg was killing him and he limped back to the sliding glass doors. He was cursing and Gaz ran down the stairs to meet him.

" (C/S), what's wrong? " Gaz asked worried.

" Something bit me. I think a wolf or something. "

" What were you doing there anyway? " Gaz asked, crouching to see the bite.

" There is a terrace and it leads to backyard. I wanted to make sure that everything was clear there. " (Y/N) said as Gaz stood up.

" We need to get to you to a hospital. Come on. " Gaz said, helping (Y/N) walk.

" I hate life. " (Y/N) said as Gaz called it in. Ghost came down, looking at (Y/N)'s leg.

" You alright private? "

" Oh, I'm peachy sir, my leg burns and I might have rabies. " (Y/N) answered sarcastically. " Did you at least have any luck? "

" Not here, but Price had. We got him. "

(Y/N) smiled, happy that they got him. " Thank God. I would have killed someone if we had to look for him. "

(Y/N) hissed a bit as he was sat down. " We will get you to medical in no time. " Gaz reassured (Y/N), who didn't share the same sentiment.

" Yay. I'm taking a leave after this mission. But you know, chicks dig scars. Guys too... "

Gaz snorted as he took the first aid kit. He stopped the bleeding with the gauzed and (Y/N) now realized how this bite was painful.

" I think that my adrenalin is stopping, this bite hurts like a bitch. " (Y/N) said, watching as Gaz poured some alcohol on a clean gauze.

" Get ready, this is going to burn. "

" It can't get any worse than this. "

(Y/N) was in fact, wrong on every aspect of that. When he was shipped off to the medical he was tested for rabies and other stuff that the wolf might have. Thankfully, he didn't get rabies or anything else for that matter.

But what baffled everyone was how sick (Y/N) had gotten. It wasn't a normal flu that hits you out of nowhere and knocks you back on your ass, but something much more severe.

His temperature was way higher than it should be, he was paler then the walls in the medical wing of the base, he was unconscious and worst of all, despite having a high fever, he was cold to the touch.

To Price, he looked like a corpse and that scared him more than anything. He was living and yet he was looking like an actual corpse. Even Ghost was disturbed, although he won't show it outwardly.

And it took a lot to disturb Ghost. That man has see a lot of stuff.

Soap and Gaz were just terrified. They saw (Y/N) while he was sleeping and if it weren't for the monitor, Gaz and Soap would have thought that (Y/N) had died from the bite.

Price was baffled by just what has caused this. The doctors were even more baffled. Nobody had a definitive answer for Price however. Some say stress, some say something else... Needless to say, Price was going to lose his mind.

It was a sad sight to see. A young private, so full of life and sarcasm, the one who didn't show mercy on the mat and the one who was a great sniper. And the one who gave Price the most gray hairs.

Price was sitting down on a chair next to (Y/N)'s bed. He was under a lot of medication and he was hooked to a lot tubes. Price was finishing up some reports. He could have done it in his office, but he didn't want to leave his private alone.

He listened to the heart monitors as he filed out some forms. Ghost was doing some work with the recruits. Ghost and Soap were somewhere on the base and considering that soon there would be a time for lunch, they were probably going to cafeteria.

Soap and Gaz had a really fast metabolism and Price was always shocked by it. Either way, one of them was going to take the shift of watching (Y/N).

Price sighed as he closed up the folder. He put it on the nightstand, watching the now sleeping private. It has been a week since (Y/N) was sick and there were no signs of improvement. Price was afraid of what was going to happen if he doesn't wake up soon.

" Price? " A very croaky voice said, nearly giving Price a heart attack.

" (Y/N)? Hang on, I have to get the doctor. " Price said, standing up, leaving the room.

Once the doctor was done with making sure that everything was fine, the 141 task force was allowed in. (Y/N) was laying down, Gaz feeding him some jello.

" So, the doctor says you are going to be fine. " Price said, sitting down on a chair next to Gaz.

" That's good. " (Y/N) rasped out, making Price sigh.

" Don't talk please. Drink some water. Also, Alejandro and Rudy called. They wish you a speedy recovery. "

(Y/N) just put a thumb up and opened his mouth to eat the jello from Gaz.

" And I have great news. You don't have any rabies. " Price said, making (Y/N) raise his hands weakly up and down, as if he was partying.

" You should get discharged soon too. "

Another thumbs up from (Y/N).

(Y/N) thought that he was going to get better and everything would be back to normal.

Nothing was normal.

(Y/N) soon realized how this... 'flu' changed everything. (Y/N) was faster. That shouldn't be a bad thing right? Well, it is if you were never so fast in the first place. And if it broke every single human record there was in the base.

Soap was very excited about it, but (Y/N) was lowkey terrified. Price said that he was going to test him with some regular tests. Price was shocked too when the times were amazing and (Y/N) didn't even break the sweat. Price thought he was going insane.

The next thing that freaked (Y/N) out was the fact that he was way more stronger than usual. How? Soap challenged (Y/N) to lift Ghost's weights and the weight that he lifts. And everyone knew that Ghost is a big man, with even bigger muscles.

(Y/N) was doing this just for fun and Ghost agreed to spot him just in case something goes wrong. Ghost paled when he saw how (Y/N) easily lifted the weight that made many brake.

And he didn't even struggle. (Y/N) was more leaning, there wasn't any defined muscles. Ghost watched in sheer horror as (Y/N) lifted them with ease. What in the actual hell?

After a few moments, (Y/N) was done.

Ghost thought that he was insane. Soap was on the verge of passing out. Gaz's mouth fell down to the floor. What the hell?

The third thing that made him wonder was the fact that he got super irritated. Soap could say anything or Gaz, even Ghost could set him off.

Price and the others knew that he can sometimes be sarcastic, but he could keep his composure. This new temper was something that baffled the task force. He never really exploded at them like that.

(Y/N) noticed these changes and just isolated. He stayed in his room and wondered what the hell happened. He was never that strong and he was never that fast and more importantly he was never this explosive when it came to his teammates.

Never.

He avoided them like a plague, refusing to be anywhere near them. He still wasn't cleared for any missions until the doctors get to the root of the problem.

The core four wanted to get to the root of the problem of his evasion. So, time to get him out of hiding. Ghost and the others barged into the room, making (Y/N) jostle.

" What the hell?! " (Y/N) yelled out.

" (Y/N), we want to know why you were avoiding us. " Price said sternly.

" I'm most definitely not doing this. At all. " (Y/N) said, ducking out of the room and walking away from his teammates. It was late and the base was deserted so to speak.

" Private! " (Y/N) heard behind him and he sped up. He walked blindly and was shocked when he got outside. It was slightly cold and he shivered slightly.

" Okay private! Please explain yourself for avoiding us. " Price said, the other 3 behind him.

(Y/N) has never felt anxiety like this. It felt like he couldn't breath and there was something else that he couldn't pinpoint it. Price was saying something, but (Y/N) couldn't even comprehend it. All of a sudden, he felt like something was trying to come out.

And something did come out.

The four members watched as (Y/N) turned into a werewolf. They saw a huge werewolf, black as night and with those (E/C), the same eyes that (Y/N) had.

The big wolf whined, shaking. Price took charge and stepped closer. He put his hands up and called him by his name. The wolf listened and Price offered him his hands to sniff.

" Relax soldier. We are going to help you. Now, can you try and switch back? "

The wolf whined in protest and Price assumed that he was too confused to do shift back.

" Whose room is the nearest? "Price asked the rest, who were silent.

" Mine. " Ghost said. Price nodded and turned back to face the wolf.

" (Y/N), you are going to be with Ghost for the night. I don't want anyone seeing you in wolf form. " Price explained, watching as (Y/N) padded over quietly to Ghost. Ghost actually petted him and (Y/N) followed him.

Everyone piled in Ghost's room and (Y/N) jumped on the bed, laying down. Ghost huffed at that, but knew that arguing wouldn't do anything.

" We will meet here in the morning. If he doesn't shift in the morning, we are going to keep him here. "

Everyone nodded and Ghost sat down on the bed. " Now, we are going to leave you two to rest. Good night. " Price said, ushering the other two out. Gaz and Soap said good night and Ghost looked at the big wolf.

" You will need to move a bit. "

(Y/N) shifted on a bed and Ghost laid down. He turned of the lights and said good night to the wolf that just nuzzled his nose closer to Ghost's chest.

[rallamajoop]

The Complete Guide to Eye Colour In Resident Evil 7

An addendum to my guide to eye colour in RE8: here's everyone from RE7 too! Getting close-ups of these was way harder than for RE8, because RE7 does not come with a model viewer, so I'm stuck using in-game screenshots and promotional images.

Once again, we'll start with the cheat-sheet version:

The whole Baker family: Blue (except when...) Mia: Brown (FOR NOW) Eveline: Green Alan: Hazel/green Deputy OneSceneWonder: Brown Chris: Hazel/brown (FOR NOW) Clancy, Andre and Peter: Brown Ethan: Still hazel

But it can never just be that simple, can it? So, further notes below.

The Baker Family

The Baker family all have blue-grey eyes. In fact, post-infection, they all have the exact same blue eyes (see top line in comparisons below). You could maybe put this down to genetics for Zoe and Lucas, but when Jack and Marguerite have the same eyes as each other too, that's when you start wondering just how many backwater-hillbilly-stereotypes are in play here.

Mind you, they do have slightly different eyes in the pre-mould flashback that is the Daughters DLC, which you can see in the second row above. All are brighter blues, pre-infection, and Jack gets smaller pupils while Lucas gets a slightly larger iris (Zoe gets nothing, as she's the viewpoint PC and we're not redoing her face if you're not going to see it). So maybe we can hope there's some genetic diversity in the Baker-clan (renders of their eyes in their actual faces also look a little more distinct, but maybe that's a lighting thing). Either way, the Bakers = blue eyes! Got it!

And then we meet Uncle Joe in the other DLC who... has hazel eyes?

IDEK, maybe Uncle Joe's real dad was a different mailman.

Once we get deeper into mould-monster territory though, things do get a little more interesting.

Both Marguerite and Lucas appear with much creepier whitened eyes later in the game ‒ Marguerite's during her boss-fight transformation. Lucas, however, remains steadfastly human-shaped throughout the main campaign, but his eyes are whitened in his video message to Ethan, and in his (pre-monstrous transformation) DLC appearances too. Jack, by contrast, doesn't seem to get new eye textures even after blowing off the top of his own head, or in the boss fight that follows (monster!Jack from the fight in the boat house has completely different eyes, of course, and more of them). Mia, too, has her own set of creepy-alternate-mould-monster-eyes, but they're completely different again.

So what's the internal logic here? I could speculate that Lucas' eyes-only transformation is a sign he's in control of himself in a way Jack and Marguerite aren't, but it doesn't quite add up. If anything, those eyes make more sense as something Lucas was given because we never see him transform like Marguerite, or blow pieces of himself away like Jack: Lucas may look human, but the eyes are there to remind us he's not. There'll always be some details that end up being more about effective storytelling than cohesive lore.

Interestingly, though they don't appear in the game, there are also promotional pics of all four members of the Baker family with glowing white/silver eyes, which are definitely a supernatural feature. It's tempting to try and associate the effect with Rose's glowing eyes from the Shadows of Rose DLC, or perhaps even the general pale-grey-eyes of Miranda and the Lords (more on both in my post on eyes in RE8). But that's territory that really needs its own post or we'll be here all day.

Clancy, Andre and Peter

These are the three ill-fated crew of the Sewer Gators tape you'll encounter early in the game. You may notice Peter (rightmost in the pic above) seems to have even more dilated pupils than the majority of the cast. Amusing as it might be to theorise that he's just on drugs or something, I think there is an explanation: the closest shot we see of his face (and the first shot of the tape) is a close-up into a camera while the team is outside in the dark. His pupils would naturally be dilated in this sort of environment.

So why aren't Andre's dilated too? Well, the closest look we get at his eyes (also pictured) are the final shot of the tape, where he's already dead, and his eyes are covered by a red film. Medical plausibility aside, dilated pupils presumably didn't add to the effect here, so Andre gets regular pupils.

Speaking of assets, there is actually one photo of the three of them in the game, from the pamphlet you can find in their van at the start. You can even almost make out Clancy's face!

Clancy's own eyes are their whole own kettle of worms, but we'll get to that below.

Chris Redfield

Is an odd one: I can't share an eye-texture asset for Chris, because he doesn't actually have a character model at all in the main RE7 title. And explaining that one is gonna take some context.

While RE8 renders nearly all cutscenes using in-game models, RE7 stores far more of its major cutscenes pre-rendered in .wmv format. The opening is pre-rendered, video messages from Mia and Lucas are pre-rendered ‒ even the big moment when Eveline blows out the windows of the tanker and throws Mia into the river is pre-rendered. Not all cutscenes work this way, but basically anything that would require loading a lot of assets that aren't needed in gameplay (eg. the view of the river and tanker for outside) seems to have been pre-rendered as a video instead.

And since Chris' only scene in all of RE7 is in the pre-rendered ending sequence, he doesn't have a model at all (or at least, I couldn't find it). We do see Chris in openings and endings of the Not a Hero DLC as well, and the End of Zoe ‒ but these too are just .wmv files, presumably for all the same reasons.

Now, obviously, Chris is also playable in the DLC, so he does have a character model there. But we still don't get eye textures for him for a couple of reasons: firstly, he wears a face-concealing mask that only comes off for opening/ending cutscenes. But even without it, we might just hit other weirdness surrounding player character models...

As I've already noted, both Chris and Mia get completely different new blue eyes in RE8, but back in RE7, Capcom seemed a little more aware that brown or hazel eyes were a real thing regular white people do have sometimes.

A note on player-character models

Although we mostly just see the hands of whoever we're playing as (usually Ethan), gameplay still uses a full-body model, presumably to aid in rendering dynamic shadows, and give enemies something to cover in blood. Things get weird around the character's head, which isn't actually visible so it can't get in the way of the camera floating inside it, but will still cast shadows and still has textures associated with it (though usually in much lower resolution than other models we'll actually get to see). There are three playable characters in RE7 proper: Ethan, Mia, and Clancy (from the video tapes) ‒ each with their own model and textures.

Ethan and Mia also have more detailed 3rd person models, since we see plenty of Mia playing as Ethan, and a little of Ethan playing as Mia (if only from behind).

Why does this matter? Well, distinct as the three PCs are otherwise, their player models all have the same eyes ‒ top row above shows Ethan, Mia and Clancy, in that order. And they look nothing like Ethan's and Mia's eyes have ever looked elsewhere, which you can see in the comparison below.

I mention this mostly because it's pretty easy to find Ethan's player-model in the game files, note those generic-hazel eye textures with it, and go, "hey, you got his eyes wrong!" But these aren't the same eyes that come with his higher-res texture, or the ones that were copied over into RE8. In fact, the existence of the player-character-default-eye-texture back in RE7 is one of the reasons why I do tend to take full-res Ethan's eyes as 'canon', even though we never see them in either game: someone took the time to repaint Ethan's eyes for his full-res model, and make them distinct from the low-res default used for everyone in 1st person mode. That at least suggests there was some real, intentional effort put into deciding what colour eyes Ethan was supposed to have.

This does leave poor Clancy in more ambiguous territory, however: as he's never seen by any other character, he has no high-res model, and thus no eyes but the default-hazel that Mia and Ethan are rendered with in that mode too. So is this to be taken as Clancy's official eye colour? It may as well be, I suppose. We see so little of Clancy in any form that I was genuinely surprised to find out his he's actually got a player model which is completely distinct from anyone else in the game, with curly greying hair, a neckbeard, and a baseball cap worn backwards.

Render by nightsatkendalls over on deviantart.

I do not have the skills to produce a render of this quality myself, but I can tell you that the cap he's wearing has the logo for the RE Engine on the front (the in-house game engine behind all the modern RE titles, and many other Capcom games).

You'll never see it in game, of course ‒ you'd need both a freecam mod and a mod to make his head visible. But it's there as a weird little easter-egg nonetheless.

Eveline

Eveline is perhaps the only character whose model may not have been updated at all for RE8, but given she's only a hallucination or ghost, that stands to reason. In RE7 though, she also appears as her aged 'grandma' self, who pops up around the house in her wheelchair looking spacey. Grandma-Eveline has two different eye texture assets ‒ one far more washed out than the other. There's next to no good official pictures of her, but fortunately, since she doesn't move around or attack you, she was one of the very few characters I was able to get a decent close-up shot off with the free camera mod. And inasmuch as you're ever in a position to look her in the eye in game, only the faded version of her eyes ever seems to show up. Is the clearer version actually used somewhere I didn't catch? I have no idea.

What really stands out about granny-Eveline's eyes, though, is that they don't look anything like her child-self's eyes do. Child-Eveline is basically the only character in either game with distinctly green eyes. But Granny's are hazel, and not even a particularly similar shade of hazel.

In fact, they look far more like the generic-default hazel of the player character textures than they do like her younger self. Close-up comparisons below.

You could speculate that it was deliberate that Granny-Eveline's eyes don't look anything like kid-Eveline's eyes to avoid tipping off the player that they're one and the same ‒ but realistically, no-one without free camera mods is ever going to get a good enough look at either of them to notice. And it's kind of a shame they didn't just take young-Eveline's eyes and apply the same kind of distortions they seem to have applied to the generic-hazel template to age them up ‒ that would've been a lovely, creepy little detail to find in these textures. But no, generic old hazel it is.

Then again, whatever the real logic at play, the fact Granny-Eveline's eyes are effectively a faded, distorted version of the very same eyes the player themselves never does get to see in the mirror is a pretty creepy idea itself. And intentional or not, that's what I've got to leave you with.

[heliads]

I’m not sure if you write for Marauders or not, but I thought I would ask. I’ve also never requested before, so apologies if I do this wrong.

My request is a Regulus Black x a female Potter reader where they fake their deaths to hide from Voldemort and destroy all his horcruxes in secret. Once they’ve destroyed all the horcruxes they reveal that they are alive to Sirius and James, and there is a cute reunion scene that’s really fluffy.

Again, sorry if I did this wrong. Thank you so much!!

oh i would do anything for the marauders (including writing for them)

masterlist

Night has fallen when Regulus Black tells you that he’s leaving. He waits until now, the final hour, as if hoping that the dark shades of midnight will hide what he’s planning from the rest of the world. Regulus will be found out, of that he is certain, he just hopes that he’ll have enough time to do some sort of good before he’s caught.

The smart thing would be to leave before anyone got word of his disappearance. Regulus is not smart when he comes to you, however, or so he admits when he shows up on your doorstep when you were just about to go to bed.

Regulus says that he’s leaving alone. It doesn’t explain why he showed up to say goodbye, or perhaps the thought of that solitude is the very reason for it. Regulus is alone except for when he’s with you. Every time that he was lonely, he sought you out. It makes perfect sense that now, when he fears the quiet abyss of death, he would want a farewell from you one last time.

You, however, are unwilling to let him go. It was hard enough having to endure the past few years estranged from him like another brother to let go. You’re a Potter, he’s a Black, and even though Sirius switched over to your side, Regulus hadn’t. Not yet. Not until now.

It had all but torn you to pieces, choosing loyalty with your brother James and his best friend Sirius when Regulus seemed so far away. Regulus had always been kind to you throughout your years at Hogwarts, the two of you closer than anyone despite how your scarlet school robes clashed with his emerald ones, and just when you swore nothing could separate you, he signed on with the Death Eaters.

Now he’s in front of you, telling you that he’s going to take down the Dark Lord or die trying. It seems like a fool’s errand, and a dangerous one at that. That’s what you tell him after you get over the shock of seeing him after such a long time, once you remember to invite him into your house and lock the door securely behind you.

The outside is blank and dark, but in your home, you’ve never felt more alive. You had wondered what it would be like to see Regulus after so much time, and it’s like you’re back at Hogwarts instead of in some small apartment close to your job. He’s here, and you’re here, and the thought that he’s about to go fling himself into the grasp of unwarranted death is unthinkable.

Perhaps that’s why you let it happen under only one condition:  that you be there too. Regulus is a brother and you are a sister and the two of you understand each other, you always have. That’s why you know without a doubt that Regulus will not stray from this quest, even though you try to persuade him from it nonetheless. It’s why he knows better than to fight when you assert that he won’t be doing it alone.

You did try to talk him out of it a little, at least. Why would it be him of all people to try to take down Voldemort? When there are so many witches and wizards fighting in the cause, why should he be the one to die?

You had not gained much by way of explanation. “It’s my responsibility,” he had said simply. 

Regulus would know about responsibility. Regulus, who joined the Death Eaters to appease his parents, who regretted the choice from the moment the inked skull appeared on his forearm. You’ve caught him staring at the accursed tattoo for hours, only when he thinks no one else is around. You know he only feels comfortable wearing long sleeved shirts so he doesn’t have to look at it and remember what he became. 

It is his responsibility to save the wizarding world, and so it will be yours, too. Regulus isn’t pleased at first when you tell him that you’ll be going with him on the quest to hunt down the horcruxes, but you refuse to change your mind. When the moon hangs high in the sky later that night, you think he goes to sleep with a smile at the thought that he’ll have such a lovely traveling companion. He tells you as much when you set off, anyway. 

He might as well be smiling about something, you won’t have much reason to do so until the difficult deed is done. You’re already leaving under terrible circumstances as is; in order to avoid detection from the Dark Lord and his followers, you and Regulus have staged each other’s deaths. When your friends come upon the scene later, they’ll believe that Regulus, a Death Eater, came by your home to kill you, a member of the Order of the Phoenix. You fought back and managed to wound Regulus enough to end his life, but not before he returned the favor for you as well.

It’s a horrific sight, the illusion of both of your bodies lying side by side. Your brother will find this out later, and be sick with grief. Regulus’ brother too, even if the taint of betrayal will make the whole scene wretched with wrongness. For now, though, you have no time to think of possible reactions nor the difficulty of what you are forcing your friends and family to endure. The only objective in your mind is how to destroy the horcruxes so that the war can be won.

Regulus knows of the first, a locket in a cursed lake somewhere deep underground. He takes you there first, and it takes him weeks to sleep off the aftereffects of that awful potion hiding the locket. Whenever you close your eyes, you see the rings of fire you had to conjure up to fight back the Inferi swarming from the lake, how they had emerged from the greenish lake ready to drag Regulus into the water the second he bent his head to drink.

Regaining the locket is an awful thing, destroying it more so. It takes the two of you several days before you’re able to do it for good, and all the while the accursed relic whispers lies in your ears, trying to convince you to abandon each other. When a wave of rage so strong it almost kills you makes you black out and slam the thing with the Killing Curse, it works at last. You’ve never used an Unforgivable Curse before. It takes surprisingly little willpower to do.

Regulus talks you through that. It’s easier to address the use of Avada Kedavra than the ugly truth both of you know, which is that there will be no guarantee that either of you will make it out of this infernal quest. It took everything in you to find and destroy the locket, which at least you knew about. What of the other horcruxes? How will you survive them, too?

The two of you travel across the country, listening in to wizarding news and doing your best to find out what the remaining horcruxes could be. You share space, you share secrets. You’ve never been closer to Regulus in your entire life. The thought that the two of you went a year or two without speaking after you left Hogwarts is unthinkable now. How could you breathe without him?

After dark, he lies awake, watching the light from a charmed lantern flit across the ceiling. He says, you don’t have to do this. Stay with him. Risk your life like this.

You prop yourself up on one elbow so you can get a better look at him. The furrows in his brow are more pronounced now, and the shadows under his eyes, which have been there since the day you met him, are now dark enough to look like the hollows of a skull. Of course I do. 

As if the universe meant to reward your faithfulness, you’re blessed with a clue the next day. Regulus recognizes a Death Eater furtively walking down a street and follows him, overhearing the man tell one of his friends that Lucius Malfoy was apparently given some strange token of the Dark Lord’s. They’re both jealous that they weren’t given Voldemort’s refuse, apparently, but their complainings are like music to your ears.

Malfoy’s item is a diary, and it writes pages of frantic scribblings in an attempt to save itself before Regulus hits it with Fiendfyre which, strangely enough, works. Stranger still was trying to break into Malfoy Manor to find a journal, but all’s well that ends well. You got in, you got out, and although there are definitely some house elves under Lucius’ employ that will wonder why they heard voices in the dark that one night, no one is the wiser.

The next secret you hear is not an item but a place, the family home of the Dark Lord’s mother. The two of you comb the place relentlessly until you find an old ring buried deep beneath the earth. Just to be sure, you check it for curses, and after a great deal of difficulty, are able to remove the dark enchantment before destroying it for good.

You lie awake that night, musing aloud before you can stop yourself. “We only barely caught the curse on that one. What if the other ones were enchanted as well and we didn’t know it?”

Regulus sits up, brushing dark hair out of his eyes so he can look at you. “What if we’re both going to die because we didn’t catch something in time, you mean?” He asks.

You nod reluctantly. “I don’t want to seem like I’m losing faith, because I’m not, but– I worry sometimes, you know?”

Regulus stands, takes both your hands in his palms and kisses them. “I rely on your worries, Y/N. They keep us alive. And no, I don’t think we’re cursed. Not yet, at least. If we were, I could at least die with you. That’s worth something, isn’t it?”

You laugh. “That’s morbid, Regulus.”

“But true,” he muses.

He tells you he loves you the next day. It feels like it’s been a long time coming. You have never been one to declare love immediately, but it’s different with Regulus, always has been. If you were in the mood to be honest, you would admit that you have been in love with him for years, ever since the two of you were small enough to hide in your brothers’ shadows and find each other there. You have loved him since the start. You will love him until the end.

Taking down the next horcrux is almost easy, if such things were allowed to be said. You’re fuelled by the hope that this might be the end. Standing over the shattered bits and pieces of Helga Hufflepuff’s Cup, you almost believe it. It’s funny, you always thought that you would somehow be able to tell when you finally destroyed the last of the horcruxes, like you could feel it in the air or something.

You feel nothing when the cup is destroyed. It scares you. You and Regulus have been extremely careful to keep yourselves hidden, but you dare to poke your heads out of the shadows for a little bit to determine if you were successful or not. Although you hear rumors that Voldemort seems weakened, that his forces have started losing battles despite him being at the helm of the attacks, he is not yet dead.

It’s heartbreaking. After all of your efforts, your trials and tribulations, every injury and weakness the two of you have sustained on the quest to defeat the Dark Lord, it still isn’t enough. You listen, you spend weeks and then a full month waiting for information, but nothing comes. There is no sign that there are any more horcruxes, but Voldemort has not died. How could it be so?

You come up with a tentative solution in the end, which is to go to Dumbledore for advice. In a way, it seems almost childish– why should the headmaster have any idea what to do, other than the fact that he led your school where the two of you first met and studied? Then again, Dumbledore is the most powerful wizard of his age. If anyone would know how to proceed, surely it would be him.

Regulus agrees readily enough, recognizing the necessity that if the two of you cannot find a way to continue on your journey, it will never end, and before long the two of you are Apparating near familiar territory and walking up to the castle on foot. You disguise your faces with a simple charm; the two of you are supposed to be dead, after all, but all it takes is one glance at you and Dumbledore is smiling and telling you that he’s glad to see two such familiar corpses up and about.

You laugh, you can’t help it, and remove the charm once you and Regulus are safely in Dumbledore’s office and out of sight. After explaining your predicament, Dumbledore sits for a moment in contemplative silence and then says at last, “It must be the diadem.”

You and Regulus exchange glances, then look back at him. “What diadem?” Regulus asks.

“The diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw, of course,” Dumbledore muses. “Tom Riddle– the Dark Lord, if you like your pleasantries– was captivated by the magic of the four founders of Hogwarts. You have told me already of Hufflepuff’s cup, this is the expected companion piece. It must be somewhere within the castle, but where– but where–”

He clears his throat after a lengthy pause. “I give both of you permission to scour the castle for it. I will caution the staff not to look too closely at either of you. Take however much time you need, but I would urge you to hurry. More of us die by the day, and it would do us no good to have our friends fall as a consequence of our own dillydallying.”

You look up at him. “And what happens after we destroy the diadem? It must be the last horcrux, or the last one he’s created so far. Will that kill him for good?”

“No,” Dumbledore murmurs, “that will end the horcruxes, not the monster who made them. Once the horcruxes are gone, he will be severely weakened and search for however has been hunting down his creations. You two are lucky that you have not died already, you know. I have no doubt that he has already begun attempts to stop you from completing your goal.”

You shudder, remembering past encounters. Death Eaters had nearly caught up to you many times, and on numerous occasions, they had, requiring firefights of spells and hexes before you and Regulus could escape to relative safety.

Beside you, Regulus tenses, obviously thinking along the same lines. “How do we survive once we destroy the last of the horcruxes? How do we stay out of his sight?”

Dumbledore sighs, weary and heavy. “I will put a stop to him,” he says at last, and that is that.

You and Regulus conjure up your charms once again, disguising your faces to all students who happen to pass by. You look in towers and dungeons, empty classrooms and great halls. It’s a mad memory rush being back here, and it is difficult not to mix memory with your current situation.

When a few hours of searching pass by, though, and neither of you have found even the slightest hint of a diadem, your fond musings are replaced by desperate anger. This is your last step, surely, if you could just find the thing. It would all be over if you could merely find one diadem in one castle.

Regulus leans against a nearby stone wall, eyes cast up to the sky in a plea for help. “Where would a diadem be? In the Ravenclaw dorm, maybe?”

You shake your head. “Dumbledore said it wouldn’t be there.”

You pace back and forth, trying to wrap your head around the issue. What other sections of the castle are particularly known to Rowena Ravenclaw? You’ll wear a path into the carpet beneath your feet while you try and think, but nothing seems to work until the wall opposite Regulus suddenly shifts away, revealing a door.

You and Regulus stare at the room that has appeared out of nowhere. “Do you remember a hidden room near here?” Regulus asks faintly.

You shake your head. “James loved tracking down every secret passage, and he told me most of them, but I don’t think even he knew about this one.”

It’s nice to have a first. You smile to yourself, then take Regulus’ hand when he offers it and walk inside the mysterious room.

The chamber is packed to the gills with objects great and small. It occurs to you that even if the diadem is somewhere in here, it could take years to sift through all this junk. You and Regulus look at each other, shrug, and each take a corridor in which to search. 

About half an hour has gone by before Regulus gives a shout. “Found it!”

You race over to his side, and stand, breathless, looking at the very same artifact that’s caught his attention. It’s old, dusty, and not particularly noteworthy, but it has this terrible feel to it that all of the horcruxes had in turn.

“This is it,” you whisper. One last shot. Then, the end.

Regulus lifts his wand, summons a tendril of Fiendfyre, which goes straight through the diadem, shattering it like glass. It’s silent for a moment, and then, when the last shard of the diadem falls to the ground with a quiet crunch, you’re both rocked backward by a boom like a cannon. This, at last, you can feel. This is it.

Dumbledore is waiting for you when the two of you emerge from the room. “I’ll take my leave of you,” he says, “and thank you.”

You nod. “What do we do now?” 

For a moment, despite the burden that has now been placed on your old headmaster’s shoulders, despite all the lives that have been lost and those that will still be taken, Dumbledore smiles. “You can go home.”

Sirius used to stay the night at the home of you and your brother, you remember that from your school days. It would then follow that, with everything in peril and friends disappearing by the day, Sirius would be at James’ right now. It certainly saves a trip for you and Regulus. Dumbledore gives you their address before you leave, and he tells you to waste no more time.

As if there is anything in the world that you want more than to see your family. You and Regulus Apparate a street or two down from the house, then walk over, hand in hand. Before you know it, you’re waiting on the threshold. The lights are on somewhere in the back of the house; you can hear voices, then a shout of a laugh you remember as Sirius’. It’s more quiet than it used to be, a little more hesitant. He’s lost a lot, the elder Black brother, but he’ll gain some today, too.

Regulus squeezes your hand. “Let’s come back from the dead,” he says.

You smile at him. “That sounds good to me.”

The doorbell echoes through the house, ceasing all conversation. There are slow footsteps to the door, a pause as someone looks through the peephole, and then all of a sudden the door has been flung open and you’re engulfed in a whirlwind of a hug. Your brother is here, your brother is lifting you off the ground with the force of his embrace, and it’s been so, so long since you’ve seen him, but you’re back again, and everything is okay at last.

James’ eyes are as wide as saucers when he finally leans away to get a good look at you. “Y/N, you’re– I swear, if you’re a Death Eater using Polyjuice, I will hurt you so badly–”

You laugh. “I’m me, James. Just me. If you want proof, though, I offer up the memory of when you were a first year and totally in love with Lily and you had me–”

James cuts you off quickly. “Alright, alright. It’s you. God, it’s you.”

A figure appears behind James, and a quiet voice asks, “Regulus?”

James moves aside so Sirius can see his brother. Regulus stands perfectly still, says, “We tried to fix it, Sirius, we hurt him, the Dark Lord, we–”

Regulus told you years ago that he wasn’t that affectionate with his brother. It’s to be expected, of course, divisions between brothers rarely settle themselves sweetly. You suppose that’s why Regulus looks so stunned when Sirius reaches out an arm and hugs him. You’re not sure if he’s trying to crush his younger brother or just make sure that he’s actually real, but they both look vaguely confused when it’s over. Happy, though. Glad to be alive.

The news will come out later that week that Voldemort is dead. Dumbledore did what was promised and killed him. That means the war is over, and that means you can rest at last. You’ll get a place to stay with Regulus. The thought of leaving him now that the two of you can be together without fear is unthinkable. You don’t want to be without him, and thanks to your suffering on the path to destroy the horcruxes, you won’t have to.

Dawn breaks. And you think– you think this might be it. Not a harsh end, but a soft one. A quiet aftermath. You’ll live, and Regulus will too. That’s more than you expected during those months on the run. When the two of you went to sleep unsure if you’d wake up in the morning, your wildest dreams could not encapsulate the wonderful life you have right now. It is marvelous, and it is yours. That is all. 

requested by @bookishirishdancer, i hope you enjoy!

harry potter tag list: @rogueanschel, @cameronsails, @neewtmas, @lovesanimals0000, @with-inked-solace, @sher-lokid7, @eclliipsed, @frenchgirlinlondon, @23victoria, @ilovexavierthrope

[from-the-clouds]

bad liars (savior complex ii) - joel miller x f!reader

part one | masterlist | song inspo |

Baby, you're a vampire You want blood and I promised...

summary: It's been a month since Joel has last seen you, fully healed since your last interaction. But you haven't spoken...at all. Your radio silence becomes cause for concern when he hears about an outbreak of Infected at the hospital where you work. There's enough explanation in this part that you could read it on it's own, probably, but I'd highly recommend reading part one first to get the full experience. pairing: joel miller x f!reader words: 7.9k warnings: SMUT - 18+ ONLY, minors DNI. (porn w/ plot, unprotected sex, oral, rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, age gap. dom/sub dynamics.) Heavy angst, multiple POVs, implied drug abuse, alcohol use, canon-typical suffering! Blood mention. Both reader/Joel are insanely emotionally unavailable, and love to lie to themselves and each other! (please dm for specifics if you have any questions). a/n: Ya'll loved savior complex and I'm so happy! Literally don't think I've had a fic get that many notes before, i had so many requests for a part two and because it felt like i left things open-ended enough, this came to me pretty easily! It might be the horniest thing I've ever written and also very angsty (what's new?)....but I think you'll like the ending <3 Special to @ay0nha for letting me yell at you about my writing and to @zbeez-outlet for the wonderful idea.

Joel exhales and runs his fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair – the tips of which were frozen together from standing outside for so long. It had gotten cold out. Very cold. Boston always did this time of year, and because of it, people stayed in, and crime in the QZ dropped, making it a safer place - though that wasn’t saying much. 

Of course, the cold didn’t stop him from dealing. It did make his job a hell of a lot more difficult, since FEDRA was bored, out looking for trouble, and didn’t have more pressing matters to attend to. Although today, he must’ve been in luck, because the only sign of FEDRA had been helicopters and tanks that were clearly on a mission, driving to the opposite side of the QZ. Good, he had thought. A distraction. 

Joel leans back against the brick wall of the alleyway, pulling the hood of his jacket up over his ears, stares at the ice in the cracks of the pavement. When he hears the crunch of gravel underfoot, he straightens.

The man approaching looks nervously over his shoulder, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his flimsy sweatshirt. Dave, a customer of his for some time. 

“You’re late,” Joel doesn’t bother with a proper greeting.

“I know, I know, I got held up on my way here,” Dave answers, immediately beginning his excuse. “They cleared out the hospital because of an outbreak, that whole area was locked down so I had to take the long way.”

“Outbreak?” Joel tilts his head.

“Infected. I guess a bunch of hospital staff got bit. FEDRA had to go in and put them all down.” 

Joel feels a distant pang of concern somewhere in the back of his head. “How many?”

Dave shrugs, scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t know, man, that’s all I know. It’s not like they’ll ever tell anyone what actually happened.”

Joel can’t help but think of you. He knows a couple people who work at the hospital, most of them through smuggling, but you’re the only one who he’s really able to bring to mind at the moment.

“So, can we, uh…”

Joel pulls the plastic baggie out from his pockets, fishing out the pills. On his end, Dave produces a wad of credits, his shoulders sagging in relief once they’ve made the trade and the drugs are in his hand. He takes one immediately, shoves the rest in his pocket. “Thanks man, I’ll see you next week?”

Leaning back against the wall, he nods, and watches his customer disappear down the alleyway. 

The second Dave is out of sight, Joel’s chest tightens, and he takes a deep breath. There’s no reason why news of Infected at the hospital should concern him. If FEDRA had been called in – they would’ve gunned down anything that moved until it was under control. He knew, better than anyone, that they would do unspeakable things in the name of keeping order. Innocent people probably died, but the dead can’t get infected.

It had been about a month since Joel had last seen you, after he’d gotten beaten within an inch of his life and ended up on your doorstep, and you were the only person that could help. It hadn’t gone at all how he expected it would – at the end of the day, he had been surprised by your tenderness. 

Still, despite that you’d let him take you on the edge of your bed, legs wrapped around him, bouncing on his cock, he wouldn’t really say that it changed anything about your relationship. He had actually been kind of afraid that it would, that your attitude towards him would shift to something more amicable.

But you hadn’t spoken to him in a month. Joel had told you he owed you one after you stitched him up, and had anticipated that you’d take him up on his offer pretty quickly. There were so many things he could do for you to make your situation better. Maybe you’d need credits…. Medicine…. Food…. Booze… Pills, something, but you haven’t reached out. You could just be biding your time until you really need the favor.

Still, the radio silence takes him aback. He should be relieved that you aren’t talking to him. But nothing? Even if it’s not about a favor…he wants some kind of confirmation that you’d both made a mistake. After all that, did you really expect nothing from him?

It dawns on him there’s now a chance you’ll never speak to him again, because you’re one of the ones that FEDRA killed. Or worse….you had gotten bit. 

Joel passes by the hospital, taking the long way home. Everything is locked down, taped off. There’s a crowd around the place – family members, he assumes, pleading with FEDRA agents for information and getting nothing in return.

“Go home. I’m sure they’ll turn up,” he hears one of them say to a weeping woman. It’s useless to ask for an honest answer, for one of them to actually care. 

Joel could go home. He could crush a couple pills, snort them, and quell the burn with a couple drinks. He could fall into restless sleep and wake up the next day as he always did, go about his business as usual. Survive. One day at a time. 

Would he ever get confirmation that you’re alive? Because at this rate, he’s not sure he’ll ever know either way. 

The feeling is going to linger. He hates it. Were you gone? If you are, he can handle knowing. Its somehow worse not to. 

He tries to justify it to himself. You’re one of his solid connections to the hospital, you’d traded with him for medical supplies before. This is business, really, if he thinks about it that way. If you’re dead, he and Tess need to find someone else to work with. 

Joel decides to take a detour on the way back to his place.

It’s past curfew when he arrives at your apartment, the sun has long since dipped below the horizon and with that comes an even harsher cold. Boston winters, he thinks to himself. If he is capable of missing anything, he’d say he missed Texas. Before all this, the last place he’d be caught dead was on the East Coast. 

Joel raps on your front door. He forgets how shitty your building is, that you sleep here alone every night, listening to your neighbors arguing through the thin walls, shady characters slinking out of shadows in the dimly-lit hallway,

A few seconds pass. When he hears nothing behind your door, he knocks again, a little louder. 

More time passes. He knocks again, louder. Maybe you didn’t hear him. 

Nothing. He does it again. Could you be asleep? His jaw clenches.

Still nothing, and Joel knocks even louder. Maybe you’re not even here, and you work nights, and he’s just missed you as you head out for another shift. But he knows that’s unlikely. Since he’s known you, you’ve never worked nights. So where the fuck were you?

Joel’s pounds on your door, yells your name into its chipping paint. He listens for something, anything, on the other side, and there’s nothing, absolutely nothing, but he keeps going The side of his fist starts to hurt, but he can’t stop himself. He doesn’t even realize what he’s doing until he hears one of your neighbors yelling from the end of the hallway. 

‘Shut the fuck up!’

Joel doesn’t hear exactly where the voice comes from, but it’s enough to snap him out of it. He halts his movements, his forehead falling against hollow wood, and in the silence, hears his heart pounding in his ears. 

“Fuck!” he kicks the wall just outside the frame of your door so hard the drywall gives, leaving a hole behind. “Fuck.”

He stares at the result of his outburst for an undetermined amount of time. You were all alone. To his knowledge, you had no immediate family to inform. Who would be around to remember you? He’d never really know for sure what had happened. 

“Joel?”

He looks up, his hands still clenched tightly into fists. When he sees that it’s you, standing at the end of the hallway, they loosen. 

You look horrible - haggard, tired, your hair tangled and matted. As you move closer to him, he doesn’t miss the way your shoulders are hunched underneath the weight of your backpack. But once you’re standing in front of him, you straighten, lift your chin. 

“What is this?” you ask. “What are you doing here?”

There’s no animosity in your tone, he thinks. You might be trying to put some in there, but you don’t have the energy to do so, so it just comes out sounding very flat.

Joel realizes, suddenly, that he doesn’t have a reason. A real reason that wouldn’t….give him away. He puts his hands on his hips, thinks desperately. You do nothing to help.

When he settles in silence, offers you nothing, you just sigh and shake your head. Your teeth are chattering, lips cracked from the cold, and you seem desperate to get into shelter, twisting your key into your lock and opening the front door. Once you step inside, you flick on the lights. He follows you, closes the door behind you both, and locks it.

“Oh, yeah, come on in, I guess,” you say over your shoulder. 

Joel crosses his arms, standing in your kitchen. 

“What, am I in trouble or something?” you ask. “Because if I am, you’re gonna have to wait until I’ve showered.”

“It can wait,” Joel says, and sits at one of your kitchen chairs. 

You shrug off of your backpack and leave it on a chair, then unbutton your coat, tossing it on top. Joel swallows hard when he sees the damage it’s been hiding. Your scrubs are dirty, tattered in some places, one of the sleeves hanging, partially ripped off. And they’re covered in dried blood. It’s smeared on your arms, on the back of your neck. Not yours, he hopes. 

What the fuck happened to you? You don’t turn to see his reaction, don’t look over your shoulder to see if he’s going to ask about it. It’s almost like he’s not even there, and you clearly wish he isn’t. 

He realizes then, that he has the confirmation he’s looking for. You made it out alive. He doesn’t actually need anything else from you. And you’ve given him a perfect out. He can leave while you’re in the shower. 

But he doesn’t. Not when he hears the shower start, or the screech of the curtain across the metal rod, the sound of water hitting the basin. He stays there, motionless, until you duck out of the bathroom with your arms wrapped around yourself, wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants, hair damp and teeth chattering. 

You pad with bare feet onto the tiled area of the kitchen, brushing past him. 

“What the fuck happened to you?” he asks. 

You finally look at him, like you’re surprised he spoke up, or even asked the question. A choked, bitter laugh leaves you, and you shift your attention away from him, reaching into your cabinet for a bottle of bourbon. “Pass.”

You pour yourself a whiskey, and Joel watches you throw it back in one go, your nose scrunching up, your hand clasping into a fist as you take the shot. The taste doesn’t stop you from pouring another drink and gulping that one down, too, without as much of a reaction as the first. It’s only when you start pouring the third that he intervenes, standing and crossing the room to cover the glass with his hand before you can grab it. 

“Slow down,” he says.

“I know you’re not telling me what to do in my own home.” Your mouth opens as you look up at him, incredulous. 

Joel looks past you, shakes his head. He supposes your right, but it doesn’t make it any easier to watch the self-destructive behavior, which is funny considering how often he engages in it himself. He gives in, removes his hand from your glass. “At least…pour me one. You shouldn’t drink alone.”

Your expression softens slightly, and he’s able to see all the pain you’re hiding, just for a flash, before you turn to retrieve a second glass from your cabinet. 

Once you hand him the whiskey, he sits in the middle of the tiny loveseat you’ve got in your front room, expecting you to sit in the armchair across from it. Instead, you approach with your own drink, nudge his knee with your own, and Joel slides over to make room so you can fall onto the couch beside him. Much closer than he’d expected. 

It’s surprisingly good bourbon, and he wonders how many times you’d wasted it by downing it like you just had, instead of taking your time, savoring. He waits for you to get settled before he speaks again.

“What happened to you?” he tries once more, a little softer this time. 

There’s some contemplation on your end, you look at him for a moment, then at your glass, then back up at him again. He can almost see you trying to figure out how much you’re going to share, but he wants to know everything.

“There was an accident at the hospital,” you answer, finally. 

Joel slings his arm over the back of the couch, angles his body towards where you’re curled up, legs tucked underneath you. I’m listening.

Your voice stays even, blase. “A guard at the border broke protocol…and someone who was infected was brought in. By the time we realized, it was too late….”

“Were you hurt?” 

“Almost.” you say. “I mean, yes, actually, I’m a little scratched up, but…it’s not as bad as it could’ve been.”

Your teeth start chattering again. Joel wonders if it’s because of the cold, or your nerves. Figures it’s probably both.

“My coworker turned and I uhm….I had to…” you say into your glass, your free hand flexing like it’s trying to shake off some unpleasant muscle memory. “I had no choice.”

“I understand,” For whatever reason, he spares you from telling the story. To him, taking down Infected was nothing. But to you…“What else?” he presses.

You shrug, avoiding his eyes, one of your arms coming to grip at your opposite shoulder. “I can’t really remember. A bunch of people died. FEDRA came in and just started gunning everything down….” you shook your head, and straightened up.

“I heard about that,” Joel offers.

“Wait…you knew about this?”

“Yeah.”

“So then why are you here, asking m-” the rest of your sentence drops off, your lips parted slightly. The look on your face shifts, slowly. Your eyes narrow. Remorse turns into something more neutral, then into curiosity. “Oh my god….you were worried about me.”

“No.”

“Yes, you fucking were,” your lips curl slightly, it’s not quite a smile, but it’s something close to amusement. 

“No,” Joel defends himself. “I wanted to hear what happened from someone–”

“No you didn’t,” you interject, but he raises his voice to finish his thought.

“–who actually works there, not FEDRA’s propaganda.”

“No you did not. You’re checking up on me. You came over here after curfew to see if I was–”

“Enough,” Joel growls with enough conviction that it shuts you up, and he’s grateful, but its not enough to wipe the self-satisfied look on your face, because it doesn’t.

“What are we, like, friends now?”

He doesn’t answer, and slugs back the rest of his whiskey.

“Or would that be too much for you?” You don’t wait long for him to give you an answer, probably because you know he won’t respond. “I mean, if we’re both being honest–” He definitely wasn’t being honest. “–Today was really fucked up.”

You’re leaning forward now, some of the space between you is gone. And though you’re trying to give the impression that you’re unphased by everything, your hand is clenched tightly around your glass, and you avoid his eyes. It’s painful to watch you resist the urge to trust him. Not that he’s ever given you a good enough reason to – he knows he doesn’t deserve it, but he wants it anyways.

“It’s funny…” you say after a while. “I remember thinking that I didn’t want to die. At least… not like that. I’ve never felt that before…That’s something, isn’t it?” you ask him. 

Joel looks at you, and is surprised at the vulnerability in your expression, sees you looking for some kind of validation from him. “....It is.” 

You finish off your drink, and put the empty glass on the coffee table, shift closer to him.

“It looks like you healed up okay,” you say, after a spell. “How’s your shoulder?”

“A little sore, nothing I can’t handle.”

“Did you take those antibiotics?”

“Yes.”

“Good. And I can’t even tell you had a black eye.”

“I’m fine,” Joel asserts. 

Another shiver wracks your body, and he can tell this one is actually from the chill – your apartment is cold as fuck, it even is starting to bother him. 

“Don’t you have a heater?”

“Kinda,” you glance over at the radiator in the corner. “Sometimes it works.”

“What do you do when it’s colder than this?” It was only November, things would only get worse. 

You shrug. “I don’t know….just be colder, I guess.”

Joel imagines you curled up in your bed alone, wrapped in a thin comforter, shaking in front of him like you are now. He winces. 

“How long are you going to stay?” you ask, changing the subject.

“I should probably go now.”

You nod, scoot closer. “But maybe…” you trail off, contemplating. 

Joel sits up straighter, prompting you when you don’t speak again. “Maybe what?”

“Maybe you could stick around for a little while longer.” There’s a warm hand, yours, that lands on his thigh, and he recoils like you’ve touched him with a fire iron. He rises to his feet. 

“Hey,” you stand along with him, step in front of him to block the pathway to the door. He could easily get past you, obviously, but it’s not as simple as that. 

Of course he’s fucking thought about what happened the last time he was here – his arms around your waist, his mouth on your neck, your chest, your hands on his shoulders, whining his name. A freak accident, a glitch in the matrix, a statistically improbable thing. 

“What?” he asks as you step forward, the fingers on your free hand sliding into the belt loops of his pants. He feels blood rush to his cheeks, to other places. And you’re still fucking shivering. You look so fucking miserable, he wants to yell at you to put on a coat, to wrap yourself in a blanket, in his arms. 

“Joel,” you say his name softly, tilting your head up, leaning close. And then your hand is on the side of his face, and he realizes you’re fucking pleading with him. He knows what you want, but he has a feeling this isn’t just about sex. You’re looking for comfort, as if he’s capable of giving it. 

“We made a mistake…once,” he tells you. “We’re not going to make it again.”

He says it to hurt you, but it doesn’t work. It’s like you knew it was coming all along. “I knew what I was doing,” you answer, earnest. “Didn’t you?”

Yes. You glance down at his hands, which are squeezed into fists so tightly, his knuckles are white. If he’s not rigid, he’s not sure how he’ll be able to resist. He wants you. God, he wants you. He never thought he’d be able to have you again. 

“I could help you loosen up.”

Joel’s walking on the edge of a one-thousand foot cliff and hoping his foot slips. He wants to surrender. The only thing he thinks might save him is to say the meanest thing he can. Maybe you’d get turned off.

“Listen to yourself,” he says, finding the strength to meet your eyes. “You want me so bad, you sound pathetic.”

“Asshole,” you step closer, your mouth twitches, your lips are inches apart. “Do you think I care what you think about me?”

Joel realizes his plan has backfired. But he really only has himself to blame, he should’ve known better. With you, he’s never in as much control as he wants to be, and deep down, he likes it. 

“Go lie down on the bed.”

It’s the only thing that seems to shock you. “What?” 

“I won’t ask you again,” Joel steps backwards, crosses his arms. “Go lie down.” 

──────

If you told yourself a couple months ago that one day you’d find yourself pinned down by Joel Miller, you’d think it’d be because he was about to kill you. Maybe because you cheated him out of something, maybe because you did something else to piss him off – it didn’t really matter. Regardless of how fucked up it was, that idea would seem more dignified than what was happening now. 

Your back is being pressed deeper into the lumpy old mattress, and he’s on you. His mouth is warm, hot, wet, and dragging down your neck, nipping, sucking, licking. Your hands are itching to reach out, to skate down his torso, trace along his jawline, tug at his hair, but you can’t because he’s got them pinned above you with only one of his own. Anytime you try to fight him, his grip only grows stronger. 

It was shameful, really, but you had asked for this – begged for it, basically. There were a number of reasons why – one of which was to blow off some steam after a near death experience, the other because you’d fucked him before and it had been good, much to your dismay. There was also a third reason that you weren’t interested in acknowledging now. 

After the night Joel had gotten jumped, and you’d taken care of him, everything has changed. It’s a cliche, but true. You’d known what you were doing when it happened, and had no regrets. But it was probably not supposed to happen again, and you tried to keep it that way, more for his sake than anyone else’s. But….he was the one who showed up tonight after he’d heard what had happened. It wasn’t nothing.

Joel pulls away from you so abruptly that you gasp, shivering in the wake of his impossible warmth. 

“Sit up,” he instructs, and you turn to find him at the end of the bed, arms crossed. 

You obey, mostly just for the view. You hope to admire him, fresh from kissing you – flush skin, wet lips, tousled hair. Only he’s frustratingly stoic, unsullied – like he hadn’t been touching you at all. 

“Look at me,” he says, and you do. 

“This doesn’t mean anything.”

“It’s nothing,” you agree. 

“I won’t be gentle.”

“I don’t want you to be gentle.”

“Good,” you watch his shoulders loosen, just a little, and he takes one step backwards, his eyes tracing down your body and then back up. “Strip for me….” 

You aren’t dressed sexy at all, you remember, a sweatshirt and sweatpants. If you had thought this through a little more, you might’ve tried to make it nicer for him. “....Okay.”

“Start with your shirt,” he says, and you grab at the hem, but he snaps at you. “Ah-ah….slower.”

You swallow, nod, and carefully lift the fabric, dragging it up over your stomach, over the swell of your breasts, revealing your tight, thin white tank top. 

“That’s it, nice and slow.” 

Joel’s voice is soft but stern, a low rasp that makes your cunt clench around nothing, and he’s not even touching you. The sweatshirt is pulled over your head, falling somewhere on the crumpled bedspread. 

Languidly, you lean back, shifting your weight to get off the mattress, and Joel palms himself through his jeans. You can see where he’s straining against the denim, and you find it hard to tear your gaze away as you go to pull off your sweatpants. Joel stops you again. 

“Turn around.”

You do, and you’re sure he has a nice view of your ass as you slide them over your hips, bending over to let the fleece pool around your ankles. Slowly, you rise back up, looking at him over your shoulder for approval. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs. Your stomach flips. A month ago, you would’ve done anything to get him to stay away from you, and now, you’re terrified to disappoint him. 

That’s the problem. You’d spent most of the day fighting for your life — literally. But even after standing behind a barricade of heavily-armed FEDRA soldiers outside the hospital, you didn’t feel as safe as you did when you saw Joel at your door. You need him. For now, at least.

“Now the shirt,” he tilts his head towards the mattress, nodding encouragingly.

You get back on the bed, sitting back on your heels, and begin to pull the tank top up. It’s your last layer up top, you’re not wearing a bra, and you’re feeling a little vulnerable with him just watching you, fully clothed and composed, your gaze falling down to look at the threadbare linens. 

“Eyes up,” he instructs. “Look at me.”

Taking in a shaky inhale, you do. It’s not easy. Everything about him looks dark, animalistic. A coiled ball of energy, waiting to pounce.

But, even when you’re bare before him, he doesn’t. 

“Lie back, close your eyes.”

Of course, you don’t refuse, settling your head against the pillows. 

There’s a sound of a belt – his belt, unbuckling, the snap of a button, the dip of the bed where he kneels when he comes to hover over you. Two hands land on top of your thighs, pressing the backs against his denim-clad knees, thumbs pushing your legs further apart. 

And then…nothing. He’s still. He’s still for so long, that you actually think that something’s wrong. When you open your eyes, you’re met with a view of the underside of his jaw. You can just make out the pinched expression he’s wearing as he looks down upon you. Disdain, maybe…but it’s not meant for you, it’s for someone else….him.

“Joel,” you murmur. Instinctually, you reach for his hand.

The second it makes contact, he smacks your hand away so hard your whole body jolts. “I told you to close your eyes.”

“Sorry,” you mumble quickly, closing them again. 

You are well aware that he’s actively working through shit, probably doing some kind of mental gymnastics to rationalize why it’s okay to fuck you again, which, when you really think about it is kind of….pathetic. It’s the only thing that makes you feel any sort of power in a situation where you’ll surrender everything else. It’s a fair exchange. 

Maybe, on a different day, you would want it softer. You’d like to think he’s capable of that, even though he seems determined he isn’t. Luckily, you don’t want it softer. After today, you want to be so far gone you can’t think. 

Joel answers by leaning down and catching you in a bruising kiss. Finally. You press yourself against him cause you’re freezing and he’s so warm, and you frantically begin to unbutton the flannel he’s wearing, making it about halfway down before he pins your hands above you again.

“Slow down.”

You whine, a little frustrated because all you want to do is touch him. The fingers on his free hand hook around the elastic of your underwear, and he starts to drag them over the curve of your ass. 

He’s got to be joking with how deliberately he’s moving, anticipation only building underneath his featherlight touches.

When he’s got your panties around your ankles, you slide your legs together so he can pull them off entirely, keeping them closed as his weight shifts, and your thighs are pulled back apart.

“You’re already so wet for me,” he doesn’t need to feel you to see it clear as day, with you spread open in front of him. “So fucking desperate.”

He’s all-but glaring at you, like you’ve done something wrong, and for a minute, your eyes flick away, just for a second of relief from the tension.

“What, are you embarrassed?” he asks. 

“N-no,” you stammer, though it was supposed to sound confident. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t press you, his head dipping down to press his lips to your knee, then an inch higher, then an inch higher, then higher – keeping his eyes locked on yours the whole time, an arm winding around your thigh.

“I wanted to do this last time.” A confession. 

“Yeah?” you sigh, trembling. It’s maybe the nicest thing he’s said to you, but you can’t even acknowledge it, because you’re buzzing.

He turns his face, his beard scraping along sensitive skin. “Mhm,” his deep rasp vibrates directly to your cunt, and when his head dips down, you close your eyes – it might just be better to focus on only one sensation at a time, you’re not sure you can handle seeing what he’s about to do.

Joel’s mouth is on you the second you do, and you gasp. He licks up the seam of your lips, mouth latching around your clit, swirling with his tongue, and back down – firm, determined, practiced. You try to buck up, but he has an arm locked around your hips. 

He removes himself from you just enough to utter two words. “Stay still.”

You want to protest, but you realize that he’s let go of your hands, and it gives you the opportunity to thread your fingers into his hair, while you dig your heels into the broad expanse of his back, and he groans, tongue curling into you. 

“I’ve thought about this,” you gasp, answering his earlier admission.

“When?”

“At night. More than once.”

“Fuck,” Joel growls, and you wheeze when he works one finger into you, forcing you to take it along with his next words. “You know how fuckin’ bad that is? Dreamin’ about a man nearly twice your age?”

“I d-don’t care, I want you anyway. Y-you can do whatever you want to me,” It’s too early to be past the point of speaking coherently, it really is, but you’re already there. 

“F-fuck,” Joel repeats himself, and pushes another finger inside you next to the first, the stretch almost uncomfortable, but quickly fading to pleasure. “I’m going to.”

You’re not the going to tell him, though, that he’s the first man whose ever gone down on you, because you’re a little fucking scared for some reason. It’s intimate, very intimate, more than you expected. 

The truth is, you weren’t actually very experienced at all. You could count on one hand the number of partners you’d had, and still not use all of your fingers. While some of them were good enough, they all paled in comparison to Joel. There had never been anyone like Joel. 

His fingers curl as his tongue swirls around your clit and you cry out, inhale sharply. Minute by minute, you’re getting wetter and wetter – can hear yourself with each twist of his fingers inside you, bearing down on him. 

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” he grunts, and your eyes flutter open just for a second, just to see his forehead, dark eyes staring back at you, and his hips dipping, rutting against the mattress. God he’s getting himself off to this. As hot as it is, the thought of not getting to feel him inside you causes a rush of anger. 

“F-feels so good,” you’re right there, already, and it’s pitiful.

“I know, baby, I know,” he says. “You’re already so close, aren’t you?”

Instead of answering, you just nod, gasping. Joel works you right up to the precipice, hands tightening in his hair, hips lifting off the bed – and then he slows a little –  just enough – to pull you back off the edge, and you let out a humiliating sob.

“Shhh!” he hisses with his mouth still on you, resuming the steady pace he had going. A little sigh of relief when you feel your release approaching again. He just lost his rhythm for a moment, it was nothing.

Again, he’s got you right there, you’re so close, hips jerking, breathing in short, sharp pants, something molten working its way up your spine. “Joel, that’s it, please I-”

He falters again – just enough. And it’s gone again.

You realize, with dismay, that he knows exactly what he’s doing. He hadn’t lost his rhythm. He’s doing this on purpose. 

If someone asked – not that anyone would – you wouldn’t be able to recall how long he keeps you in that state, being dragged and dangled, but denied the privilege of falling. It’s torture. 

And at first, you try to be patient. You figure he’ll grow tired, desperate, and eventually want to move on. But apparently, he doesn’t want to move on. He’s content to keep you this way for as long as he sees fit, and you can’t handle it any longer. It’s starting to hurt.

“Please, Joel, let me-” you gasp.

“Let you what?” he pulls back from you, frustratingly too soon, once again.

“Let me come, please, I’ll do anything, I’ll be good, please, please-”

“Just a little longer,” he dismisses you.

All you can do is pant and writhe, completely at his mercy. He keeps going like that, and you’ve stopped trying to filter yourself, the sounds he makes as he laves at you are obscene, you can see yourself glistening on his chin, and can feel the sheets damp beneath you. At this point, he’s enjoying this more than you are.

“Joel,” you plead with him again. “It’s too much, I c-can’t. Just, please I really need-”

“You wanna come for me, baby?” he asks. You nod ferociously. 

“Yes, please, please,” 

“You’re so fucking sweet when you beg, you know that? ” he murmurs. “Wish you were like this all the time.”

“Fuck off,” you manage, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. You should do this to me more often. 

Joel chuckles, and it vibrates just right, his fingers curling again and you moan, hands tightening in his hair. He’s focused now, you can tell because the constant stream of filth he’s been whispering has finally stopped. He’s persistent.

You’re unable to stay quiet, continuing to whimper just like that and please don’t stop over and over. And then all at once, every muscle in your body grows tense and you cry out, cunt pulsing around him so tightly that his fingers slow. “There you go, pretty girl, that’s it.” 

You whisper his name as he continues to fuck his fingers into you, riding you through your orgasm and licking up the mess you’ve made. 

At some point in the aftermath, Joel withdraws from you, and you hear the sting of his zipper. It takes a moment, but you’re able to see him through heavily lidded eyes, kneeling in front of you with his shirt unbuttoned all the way, pants around his ankles, jerking himself slowly in his hand. God he’s fucking huge, how had you forgotten about that? He’s a vision, beard still wet with you, looking down, watching your chest rise and fall. In that moment you realize two things. One, even though you’ve already come, you somehow want him even more than you had before, and two, you’ve never wanted to suck a dick so bad in your life. 

So you sit up, crawl towards him, and reach out with one hand to take him in your palm. He lets you, sighing, closing down his eyes. First, you have to kiss him, so you rise to your knees, and he pulls you into his arms, one of them winding around your waist, the other coming to rest at the small of your back. “You take such good care of me,” you whisper. 

He grimaces at the words like they’re an insult. You expect him to retaliate, to tell you that you shouldn’t say that sort of thing, but he never does. So you kiss him, gently, bringing your free hand to the side of his face. Once again, he lets you, and you taste yourself when his tongue presses into you mouth. You run your thumb over the head of his cock, and he hums against your touch, almost contentedly.

You’re doing whatever you want to him, and you’re shocked he hasn’t put a stop to it. It could be satisfying enough, you think, just to keep kissing him like this. Still, you sink back towards the bed to test things further. You’re about to wrap your mouth around him, but he pulls you off by your hair, so quickly, so hard that you yelp.

“No.” he says firmly. “Lie back.”

“But I just wanted to-”  

“No.” 

You consider trying to reason with him, but decide it won’t be worth whatever he’d do if you continue to argue.

Joel braces himself with one hand above your shoulder, the other wrapped around his cock, slowly teasing you by rubbing himself up and down a few times, before he gives in, finally pushing into you.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp at the stretch, reaching out grasp at his bicep, arching your back. He’d prepped you, and it was still too much. 

“You can take it,” he says, pressing deeper into you. His hips are all the way flush with yours, he’s to the hilt, and he still snaps them even further, once, holding you there, so deep, you feel like you’re choking on him. “See? There you go.”

It seems like you can’t quite catch your breath, and you squirm underneath him for some kind of friction, some kind of relief from how intense it all is. You can feel him throbbing inside you, feel how badly his own body is begging him to move, but he doesn’t. 

“Joel,” you cradle the back of his head, look him in the eyes. “Move, please.”

He doesn’t answer, he just brings his hand to grip your jaw, his thumb and forefinger pressing into the soft flesh of your cheeks. 

“Please?” you murmur again, and his thumb slips into your mouth, silencing you. You suck on it obediently, and after you do, he finally gives you what you want.

──────

Joel told you he wouldn’t be gentle, and he isn’t. 

He hadn’t been able to do this last time. Taste you, spread you open, fuck you properly. His hips snap against yours – ferociously, unrelenting, over and over. You’ve been going at it for awhile now, and he actually wants you to break. He wants you to tell him to slow down, to be a little more tender, not press into you so deep, so hard, so that if he listens, it wouldn’t mean he’s breaking his own promise. He’s got to be rough with you, because he’s afraid of what could happen if he’s not.

But you don’t break. You fucking take it, take him, each time, again and again, your nails digging into arms, your legs locked around his hips. Each time he delves into you, you’re getting wetter and wetter, and yet, you’re still so fucking tight. He doesn’t understand it. It’s been a long fucking time since he’s been with a woman like you – and you might be the best he’s ever had. 

You’re not even making any noise – you’re just panting, gasping in Joel’s ear as you cling to him, and that’s all. He can’t even look you in the eyes. If he does, he knows you’ll see everything that’s wrong with him, and still beg for him to give you more. 

Two hands land on either side of his face, turning his head so you can kiss him. Despite how he’s treating you, you keep trying to connect, to ground yourself. For as much as he wants to refuse, it feels too cruel to deny you. He lets you lock your lips with his own, feels your cunt clutch him even tighter. It’s impossible for you to kiss for more than a few seconds at a time without it getting broken up by a whimper here and there. You’re getting close again, he’s started to get better at recognizing it.

“You’re fucking so perfect on me, baby, you feel that?” he asks, and you nod, breathless. “Taking me so well, such a good fucking girl-”

A gasp from you cuts him off, your eyes squeezing shut as you are taken over by your climax. Joel groans and does everything he can not to come when you start pulsing around him, holding him closer, since there’s nothing else to do. It’s way too intimate…because it’s missionary, and he should’ve known better than to start off like this. 

Pulling out of you is the hardest thing he’s had to do in a while, and he ignores your noises of protest now that he’s left you empty. Then, he flips you onto your stomach. He takes a moment to admire the curve of your ass, how it dips into your waist….to him, your body is perfect, and you’re young, your skin still supple and smooth. There are still places he hasn’t gotten his mouth on, and it’s a shame, he thinks, but tonight his patience is wearing thin. Joel pulls you back until you’re on your knees, and slides back inside. There’s a little resistance, you whimper, but it’s easier than the first time. He wraps an arm around your waist, the other across your chest, and starts to jerk his hips upwards, into you. 

“Oh fuck, Joel,” you sigh in relief.

“I know, I know.”

You drop your head back until it falls against his shoulder, winding your arm back so you can pull at his hair, which kind of fucking hurts, but he likes it. 

Ultimately, you’re pretty easy to please, and it’s not long before he feels the telltale flutter of your walls as you drip down over him, soaking his lap. 

“You’re making a fucking mess, baby. You gonna come for me again?”

All you can do is plead with him. “I can’t, Joel. I can’t do it again, please just-”

“Yes, you can,” he interjects. “I know you can, baby, don’t worry…I’ll help you.”

“O-okay.’ 

He slows the roll of his hips just a little, focuses on deeper, longer strokes, and lets the hand that’s currently squeezing one of your tits fall to where your bodies are joined, finding your clit immediately.

You whine, arching back against him, the swell of your ass packed against his lower stomach. He sees a single tear leaking from the corner of your eye and feels a little guilty for what he’s doing to you. Only a little, though. 

Without any warning, for the third time, you’re coming around him – easier than the last time, like always – and he uses the feeling of you throbbing around him to chase his own release, his hand clapping over your mouth to muffle your moans as he becomes increasingly frantic. 

He turns his head, rakes his teeth along your exposed neck, and sinks them into your pulse point with a groan. Your breath is hot against him when you whimper in response. 

“Just a little more, honey.” He’s so close. You bob your head, though you’ve nearly gone limp in his arms.

Like last time, Joel knows it’s a bad idea, but he’s not going to pull out. The thought of deliberately coming inside you is actually what sends him over the edge, and he’s cursing and moaning your name. You whine at the feeling of him pulsing inside of you, arching back for more, even though he can tell you’re exhausted. 

It’s fucking freezing in your apartment, and yet, his skin is damp with sweat when he finally regains some awareness of his surroundings. He’s panting, you’re sniffling, a weak smile on your face as you catch your breath. Before he can stop himself, he presses his lips to your cheek. 

Joel tilts you both forward – very tentatively, keeping an arm wrapped around your waist. At some point, your hand settled over top of his, and you threaded your fingers between his own, holding his hand across your stomach. You keep it there, even after you’ve settled onto the bed.  

It takes a few minutes before either of you move, but it’s you who gives in first, wriggling out from where he’s got you trapped partially underneath him. 

You retreat to the bathroom, like you did last time. Somewhere during your coupling the linens have slid down the bed, and Joel settles back against the pillows, throwing an arm behind his head.  Now that he’s stopped sweating, he’s just cold, and he reaches to pull the bedspread over him. He should leave, he thinks, before you come out and ask him to. Beat you to the punch. Maybe while you’re still in the bathroom. 

A few minutes later, and you return from the bathroom, dressed again in sweats. He hears you pour yourself a glass of water, gulping it down. You flick off the lamp on your bedside table, and fall into bed next to him, lying rigidly on your back. He should reach out, pull you against him, let you settle in his arms. Instead, Joel rolls over on his side. 

It’s terrible how beautiful you are, he thinks, watching you stare up at the ceiling, hugging yourself. So beautiful, and fucking smart. You’re strong, too, but not as strong as he wishes you were. Of course, no one could ever be that strong.

He whispers your name. You turn your head, pupils still blown wide with lingering lust.

“You need to learn to defend yourself, to shoot a gun, to fight,” he says. “After today.”

“What?” you roll to face him. 

“You said you didn’t want to die,” Joel continues. “So you need to learn. ‘Case something like that happens again.”

“Oh yeah? Lemme guess, you’re gonna teach me?” your voice is a little hoarse after what he’d done to you, and you smirk at him.

“Yes.” It sobers you up, that he’s not fucking with you, or giving you a hard time. “I owe you, remember?” 

“You do.” 

“So…. I’ll teach you.” 

“....Okay.” 

“Alright.”

Joel rolls over to his opposite side, and you’re left staring at his back. Arms wrapped around 

himself in a tight hug, he waits for you to tell him to go.

You never do. 

Instead, he feels the heat of your body as you curl up against him, slotting one of your legs between his own. Your hand grazes up his ribs, over his bicep – a gentle, quick massage – before you tuck your arm underneath his own, your palm flat against his heart. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, frozen at how tender the embrace is. It’s a foreign feeling, he can’t remember the last time someone touched him like this. 

The tip of your nose hits the nape of his neck, and he can feel your shuddery exhale.

“I’m cold,” you say, like it’s obvious, lips brushing featherlight against his skin. “And if you’re staying, you might as well make yourself useful.”

He can’t roll over and wrap his arms around you. He can’t kiss your forehead or play with your hair or murmur into your ear. He can’t offer you anything in return. Joel decides, though, if he’s going to accept comfort from anyone, it’s going to be from you.

──────

taglist (basically if you asked for a pt 2 on the last part i tagged you): @bbyanarchist @dlwrish @imaginewrites24 @captain-yellow-96 @daisyintheskyewithdiamonds @sludgec0r33 @c0wb0ym3nace