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dnd-writes · 9 days

Text

Trials and Tribulations

AO3

Tags: non-con, BFH, I somehow wrote this in 3 hours, what is 'edit', Jeewon, unnamed OC, forced free use, manipulating, groping, painal

A/N: Saw a Jeewon post on KPF and thought of something to write, laid down and wanted to write a few paragraphs before getting back up to go play or whatever, next thing I know I wrote the whole thing already more or less. Consider this as a spiritual successor to Boulevard of Broken Dreams BUT BUT BUT only in that it has somewhat of a similar premise, it is way way way waaaaay more tame and casual (aside from one painal scene) in terms of detail than BBD. Anyway, enjoy!

Cignature’s manager walks into the room and sees Jeewon just getting off her knees, he sees her bend forward, her butt pushes out towards him putting a smile on his face. She brushes her knees clean of dirt then fixes her skirt. As she turns around towards him, he sees a complete contrast to the clean and clothed look of her ass—her bare chest and face covered in cum.

He looks over her shoulder and sees a middle-aged businessman on a chair, totally exhausted, one of the company’s investors. “She’s wonderful, isn't she?” says the manager to which the only reply he gets is a nod and two thumbs up. “I’ll be taking her away now.”

Jeewon heads out then the manager catches up with her and gets to her side. He puts a hand on her hip to pull her close to him so he can whisper into her ear. “Have one of the girls go clean you up. Haven’t fucked that ass in quite some time.” He smacks her ass as a signal for her to get going. “Be quick, I’ll be waiting, you know where to find me.”

—————

Yep, that’s Jeewon. You’re probably wondering how she ended in that situation.

How does an innocent, voluptuous, and cheerful woman suddenly become the company’s cash cow? Well it all started when C9 Entertainment noticed a rather peculiar influx of attention. The attention wasn’t mainly on their sole girl group Cignature but rather it was targeted mostly at the company itself.

They quickly traced it back to an interview that one Jeewon, one of Cignature’s members, did where the interviewer talked about her body, indirectly referring to her chest which she covered at the time the question was asked. Rather than addressing the situation and protecting their own artist, they instead embraced it. After all, as the saying goes, “Any publicity is good publicity.” Which goes true the more people talk about the clip.

Now all that was left for C9 Entertainment to do was to capitalize on the attention and they found their solution from none other than the infamous interview itself—Waterbomb, well, a festival similar enough to Waterbomb that is.

The announcement was controversial enough on its own but it was nothing compared to what Jeewon wore at the event. They put her in a bikini top and gave her a thin white top just to say she wasn’t naked.

The outrage was massive but not as big as Jeewon’s chest or the Won signs in the company’s eyes. Sure the company received tremendous backlash for the decisions they’ve been making but that was nothing compared to the money coming their way.

From that day forward, the company’s view of Jeewon has changed and all she is in their eyes is merely a tool they can use to generate views and revenue. While the higher ups used Jeewon’s body for profit, their manager planned to use Jeewon’s body for his pleasure.

He used to see Jeewon and Cignature as his responsibility, close friends, and possibly even family. But given recent events, his perception of her has changed and after the festival, after seeing Jeewon up close, after seeing her tits jiggle, he has been woken up to just how insanely sexy she is.

After every practice session or performance the group would do, whenever they finished their manager would be close by to congratulate them. Often he would clap and cheer for them or pat their backs. It gave the members encouragement and energy to keep going, that is, until they realized that his pats on Jeewon progressively got lower and lower until one day he’s just groping her butt in view of everyone else.

Naturally the members would complain to the other staff but some simply didn’t care while the rest told them to just suck it up and accept it. That, along with some gaslighting and manipulating from the manager, made them keep their mouths shut. And the encouragement they would get turned into fear that the rest of the group would be touched the way Jeewon gets touched.

Following their silence, he became more shameless in his interactions with Jeewon. He would slap her ass as a greeting any time he comes close to her and often we would hug her from behind like some romantic scene in a K-drama but instead it’s so he can grab her breasts without her leaving.

He even made some rearrangements to the room assignments at the dorm, moving Jeewon from her room to his. He placed, well more so dumped, her things into his room just to seal the deal. And no, he didn’t have an extra bed so he made her stay with him on his.

On the first night they were in the room together, as Jeewon was about to go to the bathroom to get changed, the manager blocked the way out and instructed her to get changed in front of him. With no other options and no way out, she was forced to comply. He licked his lips as he saw her in her underwear, it wasn’t quite the full thing just yet but he knows for sure he’s going to get it soon enough. They climbed into bed and he turned her around so he could spoon her and cuddle her like some body pillow, all the while grinding his erection into her butt.

Morning arrived and everyone had breakfast together, with Jeewon sitting on the manager’s lap of course. As Jeewon was headed to the shower, he stops her and tells her he’s going with her “to save water,” a lie apparent to both of them. Jeewon wanted to say no but before she could even answer he was already pushing her towards the bathroom. The members watched anxiously as they walked together, nothing much they could really do.

The manager immediately strips down and his cock is standing proud as it pointed towards Jeewon who was visibly disgusted. She turns away from him to quietly cry but not even her feelings had space as the manager was already starting to take her clothes off. He got her down to her underwear when he backed off to let her strip the final pieces herself.

As Jeewon tantalizingly took her bra off, he would quote the interview back at her, saying that her physique is the best in history and that her body is the talk of the town. Jeewon once again covered her chest with her arm while she was removing her panties. She stood back up with her hands on her privates but the manager just walked up and put her hands at her side then he started feeling her up and played with her chest for a good few minutes. He would compliment her tits and especially her nipples since it’s the first time he’s seen them, maybe the first man ever to see them, then he proceeds to call himself lucky how he has her body all to himself.

After playing with her body, he suggested that they help each other by cleaning each other while he was stroking his dick, making the innuendo even clearer as if Jeewon didn’t already know what he meant.

The two stepped into the shower but it was less of a bath and more of Jeewon reluctantly jerking him off while he explored every inch of her exposed body once again.

He would get increasingly annoyed at how slow Jeewon’s pace was and he decided to drop the subtleties and he pushes down on her shoulders to force her down on her knees. Then he grabbed her tits and trapped his cock between them so that he could start thrusting while Jeewon just knelt there and be used.

Jeewon kept her eyes and mouth as shut as she could while he ejaculated all over her face. Before she could clean herself off, the manager wiped the cum off her face and collected it in his hand. He forced her to drink it all and retched from the taste. He then told her that she should get used to it because that wouldn’t be the last time she has to drink cum.

After showering and using up more water than if they bathed separately, the group got ready to go to practice. It went just about as well as how their previous practices went just with some extra groping being received by Jeewon. When they got back to the dorm and the two got into the shower again, Jeewon was ready to get back on her knees but instead she felt herself get turned around.

Jeewon felt the manager’s tip press against her slit and she froze in fear. He did not care if she was protected or not, a problem he was too horny to deal with at the moment. He pulled her back and held her by her chest as he started thrusting into her pussy. Jeewon just cried silently as she felt herself get more violated than she had already been, especially when she felt his hot cum stirring inside of her pussy.

The manager got high on fucking Jeewon that he proceeded to do just that and only that for the next few days. He didn’t care how or where he fucked Jeewon or who among the members saw it but the only thing that mattered to him was that either Jeewon’s pussy or mouth was occupied by his cock.

He would fuck her before and after sleeping. He would make her blow him while he ate food and watched TV. He would fuck her on the dining table forcing the members who were eating there to move elsewhere. He would use her mouth to properly clean him in the shower. And so on. Even when the group had to go practice, he would make the rest go to the company building while Jeewon was kept beneath him in the dorm. While they practiced their next performance, Jeewon was being turned into his sex pet.

One of the members complained that the manager keeps having sex with Jeewon but much to the group’s dismay, they doubled down and saw an opportunity land at their feet. Why stop at dressing Jeewon so scantily clad in public when they could also use her body behind closed doors to also bring more money in, that way whenever the group isn’t on stage, they can be certain that their wallets are full.

The manager was furious with what the members did even though the decision made by the company was expected for him but instead of finding out who the culprit was, he decided to just cool down and what better way to do that than to use Jeewon’s possibly untouched asshole for the first time.

The manager had all the members in the living room and they all sat quietly in fear. He told them how annoyed and disappointed he was in them but he made sure to tell them he won’t scold them for it which gave them some relief for a very brief moment until he grabbed Jeewon by her hair and dragged her into his room. The members cried while they held each other as they listened to Jeewon screaming and begging for help, their hearts broke knowing that they couldn’t help and that they were somehow responsible for subjecting her to even more torment.

He ripped Jeewon's clothes off while he held her down as she tried to struggle to free herself. Once her shorts were down, instead of feeling the familiar feeling of his tip pressing against her cunt, Jeewon felt his dick press against her asshole which made her scream so loud it echoed throughout the whole dorm.

He didn’t bother lubing up or anything and he just started going in dry. Jeewon never knew such pain prior to that moment, whether mental or physical, and she screamed her head off through the night, making it known to the members just how much pain she was in and making it hard for them to go to sleep just from the loudness alone.

From being always at the dorm to being almost never, Jeewon was sold off to investors as if she was some sort of prostitute. Though the manager still had his time with Jeewon, he wasn’t able to have as much action as he used to and naturally he turned to the other members of the group. He would assign a day for each member as if it was a chore to be used by him. The other members were also up for grabs but it was Jeewon who anyone wanted to fuck, not like anyone can blame them.

From a merely suggestive interview question, spiraled all the way into Jeewon being turned into a cow, both financially and sexually.

#kpop #kpop smut #jeewon #jeewon smut #cignature #cignature smut

538 notes · View notes

submalevolentgrace · 2 years

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Hi! I'm very interested in attempting to write a disabled character (not for this blog, I assure, for an book I'm writing) in which the story doesn't fetishize/objectify her prosthetic limb. I'm in many writing circles and have been for a long while, but I've never seen this issue brought to light which I realise is a very important one. I have much to change in my thought process, and thank you for bringing this issue to attention.

I'm curious, and I apologise if this has been asked before, but what sort of design could you see for a functional prosthetic that doesn't go for a plainly aesthetic appearance, or is soully to please others? I do note that you said prosthetics are generally... not that helpful. So is there a way that it could be? Or do you think it would always generally be better to not use a prosthetic, as its mostly for aesthetic purposes, as you said?

I apologise if this ask is too outright or anything, and I don't mean to intrude. Thank you for your time and have a beautiful day!

okay, i want to answer this as in depth as possible, because whenever i talk about having a prosthesis, someone will always tag some variation of "#writing reference" and i do wonder what message they're taking away, and i want to get as much of my experience out as possible to maybe help shape how this is all portrayed in the future. and yeah… this is gonna be one of those rambly smg posts that the expand feature was invented for, so i'll start with the very abridged TL;DR:

if you're writing a character with an upper limb prosthesis; don't. arm amputees are unicorn level rare even compared to leg amputees, and i've never interacted with or even heard of an upper limb amputee that regularly uses a prosthesis, let alone relies on one. fiction has lied to you for the sake of cool aesthetics, don't repeat the cycle. more in depth writing advice including nuance and "but i waaaant to" will follow.

that said, grab your donning parachute and let's get started...

context for everyone involved: i am an upper limb amputee that rants a lot about how prostheses suck, i lost my right hand roughly five years ago at roughly the age of 30 after a very rough decline in health… it was pretty rough. this question is being asked in the context of a previous rant post of mine, and i checked that the ask is about an upper limb prosthesis in particular.

the situation regarding the usefulness of lower limb prostheses is totally different; i am definitely no expert, but by all accounts, prosthetic legs are incredibly useful for many people. getting a good leg can be absolutely life changing and more or less necessary for day to day life for some; mostly because infrastructure and society is just so fucking hostile to wheelchair users. being able to walk - at the cost of pressure sores and rashes and increased residual limb pain - is a preferable option to many people than being unable to fit through a doorway or in a bathroom stall or find out that the key to unlock the only elevator is in the admin office up three flights of stairs (true story).

but upper limb prostheses… see, the thing is, hands are incredibly complex organs that rely on a lot of immediate haptic feedback to work at all. hand dexterity is all about control, you need fine granular movements of the digits yes, but you also need the subtle sensations of pressure and proprioception in order to adjust your movements on the fly. i speak from experience, in the years leading up to the full loss of my hand, i was slowly losing function of it, usually swinging between numbness that made it clumsy at best, or screaming overstimulation from moving it at all resulting in unpredictable spasms… and let me tell you, a half working hand is infuriating to try and deal with. you can never know if you have a good grip on something or if it's slipping because of the wrong amount of pressure, and there's only so many smashed bottles of pickles on the floor before you give up using it all together… so amputation wasn't a great loss there, i had time to adapt.

a prosthetic hand of any kind has all of those issues and more. they're heavy and bulky, the cosmetic faux fingers or gripping claw have crude movement at best, and there's zero feedback (put a pin in this). 100% of the time you're using a prosthetic hand you have to keep your eyes on the grip and visually guesstimate whether or not the thing you're carrying is held tight enough but not too tight, that is if your "heavy duty" prosthesis can even support the weight without the servos disengaging or the wrist attachment socket just busting loose. i dropped a whippersnipper on my foot last week when my socket couldn't take the weight and i think that was the final straw in me desperately trying to prove to myself that there is a single task my prosthesis actually helps with.

this is usually where fully two handed people start talking about bleeding edge DARPA tech, and how we just need to invest more,research more, develop more. better tech, more tech, neural integration, more more more. okay i promise the writing advice is coming! for starters on tech, my experience is already with a mid-to-high end ottobock terminal device: i've got a myoelectric nerve-signal operated proportional control heavy duty greifer; about the only upgrade left for me to get would be a rotating wrist joint if i could coflex. it's not military, it's not "rockclimber that owns a prosthetic company", but it's quality tech. it still fucking sucks. secondly, that high level military tech exists primary for PR purposes so they can say they treat their discarded casualties well, "we can rebuild him, we have the technology" style. every war vet i've read about or heard from that's been gifted that high level tech also abandons it for the same reasons; it's imprecise, there's no feedback (or the haptic interface has to be fully recalibrated every time they put it on), but mostly they're more capable without one.

okay, the transhumanist ableds say (i should know, i used to be one), what if we did more ~research and development~ and got that neural feedback working? then we could have fireproof superhumanly strong robot arms to fix up everyone! here's where i take out that pin we put up before and i tell you that a class of prosthetic arms/hands already exists that has perfect proportional control, fine motor control, and physics perfect pressure feedback piped directly into the patients' existing sensory systems! they're called body-powered prostheses, and they were invented in like the 1600s. you strap a whole bunch of stuff to your arm and shoulders shoulders, and control the operation of the terminal device and elbow through cable tension by flexing your shoulders. they do take a considerable amount of training to operate - though hell i spent 18 months training to use my myo - but based on everything i've read, body-powered prostheses are the best option if you're an upper limb amputee and absolutely need a second hand for some reason.

but they don't look cool and futuristic, and according to my prosthetist, most people give up on using them too. we all give up on our prostheses, no matter the type. my rehab OT was impressed i lasted the 18 months of my training. towards the end, they even asked if the clinic director could drop in to one of my sessions to see my progress; he expressed genuine amazement at me casually using my bulky robot claw to use a brush and dustpan, and made an offhanded (hah) comment about what someone can achieve "if they stick it out to the end", implying it was somewhat of a rarity for me to have done so. several years on, and yesterday i wedged the dustpan between my ankles to sweep up into it, awkward but exponentially less effort than putting my dusty robot arm on. which, by the way, is a whole thing. look up some videos, they're all awful to don. i don't actually know the official technical name of what my clinic calls a "parachute" but it's a bitch to use! have you ever tried to pull back with your arm whilst also pushing it forwards at the same time, and simultaneously lean in to and away from an external force pulling on you? that's how you get a myo socket on.

bare with me, i promise writing advice is coming, and i promise it's more than the tl;dr. but. remember when i said a half working hand is infuriating to deal with? any prosthesis, from fancy myo tech to pirate-era body powered, will only ever be half as good as a working hand, and being juuuust within capability to do something but not quite able to is maddening! but you know what works way better than a half working hand? no hand at all. using whatever residual/vestigial limb you have - whatever "stump" you have, i hate that word - is pretty much always better than trying to use a prosthesis. i can use the inside of my elbow to grip and carry things, i can use the nub of my arm to apply pressure to hold things, open doors, use a computer mouse, turn on taps and lights, if i put a glove over it i can use it to prep for cooking. i have full proprioception and pressure feedback with skin contact, i don't think i've ever dropped and broken anything from my elbow, unlike countless things slipped from my greifer - which, by the way, absolutely will start clenching as tight as it can if i get even slightly too sweaty around the electrodes, which has both broken things i'm holding and also injured me, because surprise surprise but servo operated robot claws have pinch points on them right near the "emergency disengage" lever for some reason!

but i am exponentially more capable without it on than with it. no, i'm not fully independent, i rely on housemates and loved ones to help me out with some tasks that simply just need two handed dexterity, but none of those tasks are things a prosthesis makes me able to do anyway. i used to imagine my prosthesis would be like a bra; a bit awkward and uncomfortable, but i'd wear it throughout the day because it's helpful and take it off in the evening to decompress. in reality it's actually exactly like a bra: an absolute bitch to put on one handed, unbearably uncomfortable because it never sits right, ugly af unless you're a millionaire, and absolutely useless except for the fact that i get gawked at and judged by strangers if i leave the house without it on.

and if you really want to discover how far "no hand is better than a half working hand" goes, brace yourself, and look up the patient's stories (not medical system stories) of people that have had hand transplants. the first man to receive one hated it, he was promised a return to normal function, and what he got was a nightmare worse than being one handed; he wanted it removed again but the doctors refused because it would undermine their grand achievement of the first hand transplant. the doctors and society wanted him to be fixed, they wanted him to be normal, they wanted him to be abled. they failed. they made him less able to do things, denied his autonomy, and left him with someone else's hand slowly rotting on him, prioritising the idea of "scientific progress" and "two hands good" over the physical health, mental health, and ability to function of this man.

he's not alone; every story from the patients' perspective about hand transplants that i've read goes this way, including a woman who was born quad limb different and was promised hands would improve her life, pressured into a double hand transplant, only to find herself after the surgery essentially experiencing disability for the first time ever, because she had lived her whole life getting by just fine with her 'underdeveloped' limbs, but half working hands are worse than useless. you can try to find these stories yourself, but i'm not going looking for sources on any of these cases, because if you look back through enough of my posts you'll get a glimpse of the horrors and abuses that i too was put through by doctors who prioritised trying to "fix" me at any cost, rather than providing me the best quality of life, and in turn traumatised me and left me more broken than any loss of limb on its own could. dear goddess, i promise the writing advice is coming.

so. why do upper limb prostheses exist at all? if they're so terrible and useless, what is their function? i want to borrow something someone else left in the tags of a previous rant here, from someone who i believe works in prosthetics and/or rehab, cleaned up and anonymised at their request:

"upper limb functions are wildly more complex than: 1) bear weight static, and 2) bear weight moving. but every single upper limb amputee i know has a fancy expensive prosthetic just gathering dust in the closet because there is literally nothing it can do like a few years of adjustment and if needed non-dominant hand retraining can't do. the existence of forquarter prosthetics to begin with is just kind of silly and useless and entirely to make OTHER people feel comfortable, especially considering they universally are UNcomfortable for the amputee. i hate the notion that as soon as you get the amputation the prosthetic is The Thing That Will Fix You And Make You Feel Normal again because it universally isn't! but every forequarter person i know had like this ideal of Being Fixed By Magic Prosthetic that they were then obviously wildly disappointed by and had to do yet another grieving process with, versus if the dominant narrative were just one of: yeah. it'll take time, there is no magic fix."

and i think that really nails down what the actual purpose of upper limb prostheses is: they're not for the user, they're for the sake of other people. and not just their comfort when looking at our bodies, although based on the pressure for both amputees and people born limb different to get functionless cosmetic plastic hands, there is a lot of that. but it's not just that.

i fully believe that the reason prosthetic hands exists is to comfort the fears of the two handed. "don't worry", they say, "we can fix you again. you don't have to fear becoming Disabled, you don't have to worry about adapting or your life changing. we can make you Normal™ again."

you would not believe the number of people that have approached me to shower me with pity, to tell me how horrific my life is, how they can't imagine it. people have told me, apropos of nothing, that they'd kill themselves if they lost a hand. indirectly, that my life isn't worth living. unless, of course, i happen to be wearing my cool as fuck looking robot prosthesis! then they tell me how wonderful it is, how lucky i am, how glad they are that we have the technology to fix me. that's what a prosthetic hand says, what all the happy fishing photos on limbs4life posters at the rehab clinic say: don't worry, we can fix you. that's what the bleeding edge DARPA flexi-whatever fully articulated neuro-feedback hands say: don't worry if you get IED'd while hunting civilians for us to drone bomb, if you get hurt, we will fix you, we will fix the fuck out of you, we will motherfucking adam jensen you into a cool as fuck cyborg that your son will idolise; come on boys, don't you wanna enlist just for the chance at being as cool as this? join the bomb squad for a ticket to the upgrade lottery.

and so we arrive at fiction. as much as his dialogue options protest, adam jensen loves his robot arms, they punch through walls, turn into fucking swords! they make him the most special man in the world. what would he do without them? learn to cope? grieve? practice acceptance? take up poetry? just, be disabled? there's no power fantasy for ableds in that.

in fact, can you think of a single fictional character that's an upper limb amputee that's, well, just an amputee? they all have robot arms. not realistic prostheses, not medical devices; robot arms. sleek or bulky, top of the line or broken down self built, steampunk or nanomachines or magitech automail; they're never without them. never just an amputee. never born limb different either! there's always that element of tragedy to overcome, always suffering and misery porn, always focus on the pain and the helplessness without the absolutely vital robot arm that makes them Normal and Whole. the closest amputee example i can think of is furiosa from mad max, who iirc fucking punches max in the face with her residual limb like a motherfucking badass! i can barely lean on mine wrong and she punches a guy! but she still apparently needs a dieselpunk robot hand to drive a truck, something you can do one handed so easily most drivers don't even notice they're doing it! please don't, by the way

and so many disabled fans love to point to robot armed characters as disability representation; the winter soldier, luke skywalker, edward elric, misty knight, that genderswapped furry girl from ratchet and clank, jet cowboybebop, finn the human, and yes, adam jensen…. these are all characters that someone disabled i know has told me they love because they "represent disabled bodies"…. and i know nobody wants to hear this, because i've been screamed at for saying it before, but… they do not. they are not disabled, functionally or within fiction. they are either perfectly able bodied Normal people with chrome paint on an arm, or tortured misery porn we are supposed to pity and feel lucky we're not them. sometimes both!

also you ever notice how it's basically always arms? lower limb amputations are orders of magnitude more common than upper, my prosthetist said i was probably only the 4th or 5th upper limb she'd worked with in her career, with literally hundreds of lower limb fits. but fiction doesn't seem to reflect that, huh? or any other part of the reality of disability. it's always cool as fuck robot arms, never cool as fuck wheelchairs or crutches or dialysis machines or colostomy bags. a fair few "i was blind but now i can see with Robot Eyes and also infrared and xray" around, which again, plays into that "we can fix you and make you cooler" propaganda.

by the way, up above when i was describing body powered arms, if you wondered to yourself why i went with a myoelectric one instead when i clearly believe body powered is better… yeah. i am not immune to propaganda! i too wanted to be cool as fuck. i spent years with deteriorating function in my hand for reasons that are still unknown, was misdiagnosed and medically neglected to the point that removing my hand seemed to be the only option left to offer some relief, and even that was a clusterfuck that left me worse than ever… of course i wanted to believe in the power and prestige of a cool robot arm that fiction promised me.

but fiction promises fantastical lies. and so.

we get to the writing advice portion of the novella that is this post. you asked for advice on how to write a disabled character with an upper limb prosthesis. you've read the tl;dr, you've read everything above i assume, you know i don't want you to do it. the obvious twist is that it's been writing advice all along, me trying to share my perspective on what it's like being an amp with a robot arm and how shitty it is, implying how almost any fully realised and realistic character that's missing an upper limb would give up on a prosthesis at all. you can already tell that every value judgement in me says "don't give her a prosthesis, no matter how functional or cool you make it. don't try to make the tech better to justify it, just let her be one armed, one handed. just let her be disabled, but not helpless. let her show off her elbow or underarm carry strength. let her love interest appreciate how soft and squishy her residual limb is in a moment of tenderness. let her natural disabled body be respected and valued."

but that's a personal value judgement from me, and you are the author of your own work. i know it's trite to say, but you are! even the act of deferring to someone with lived experience in the hope of doing a better job at representation is a value judgement, a good choice in my opinion, but one you needn't necessarily take. maybe you do want to write a character that has a cool as fuck unrealistic robot arm as a power fantasy, or a comfort blanket… i did.

i've been slowly writing my own probably terrible scifi epic for over a decade now, and when my arm was giving me hell back then, i'd take great comfort in this fantasy of my protagonist with her chunky robot arm, the terrible traumatic suffering of her loss, overcoming, the power and ability her advanced prosthesis gives her over others, that she alone has access to, because others are not willing to make the sacrifices required. inspiration porn. awful stuff to me now, but empowering to me then. as i grew and gained direct experience, i slowly reimagined her, rewrote her, ship of theseus'd her into an entirely new character; a reflection of me now, bitter at the whole thing, spiteful that her natural flesh arm evokes fear and distrust, but unwilling to suffer the pain and frustration of her unnatural prosthesis just to make others comfortable and respect her as "whole", however artificial that whole is. and as with the ship of theseus being two ships, once i realised the transformation, i re-added the old protagonist back in whole cloth as a separate character; proud of her robot arm and its power, but in new context, as a foil and antagonist, an in-universe military prosthesis propaganda figure to reflect how i now feel characters like her exist to us, the readers.

i'm not just sharing that as egotistical self promotion, but to highlight that, even if i sit here begging you all up and down not to write characters with robot arms for how bad and unrealistic they are; there's still something genuine and true that their inclusion can say. the great thing about the story that you're writing is that only you can write it, as they say. but i whole heartedly believe that to write to your best, you have to be aware of what you're writing and why. as tempting as it is to feel these characters form naturally in us and therefore we're averse to changing traits about them that feel organic and self evident; as authors we have omnipotent control over the text, every trait and detail is a reflection on us, so we'd sure as hell better understand why we're choosing to write a character with this trait. because anything you write without being aware of intent will take on its own meaning in the space between.

and on that note, if i don't say this, i'm leaving it to be inferred: i definitely don't want to appear to come down on the side of saying "you cannot write an amputee unless you are one", because we are rarer than single young bisexual unicorns! and it would be a tragedy if anyone read through all this and then turned away in fear, deciding to never write an amputee character (with or without robot arm) because they feel they can't do it justice… believe me, no matter what anyone says, some hack writer somewhere is going to keep writing adam jensens and winter soldiers. don't let them be the only voices in fiction! just try to do your best.

so my ultimate advice on the topic of writing a character with a prosthetic limb is to ask yourself one question in two different frameworks, and meditate on what you feel the answer is:

why does she have a prosthesis?

from a doylelist perspective as the kids say, as an author with omnipotent control, why are you choosing to write about this topic? why are you choosing to give this trait to this character? what does it say about how you view ability and disability, what makes a person normal, and what our society values? will you let her be in her natural body? or will you give her a prosthesis, force her to wear it by authorial fiat, or author her a meaningful reason to choose to? if yes, be sure you know; why did you give her a prosthesis?

and from a wastonian perspective, diegetically, inside the story, why does she choose to wear a prosthesis? what does it say about her inner character, and how she interacts with the world? how does she feel about doing it, is she prideful and loves the attention she gets, or does she resent whatever necessitates its use? how do people in this world view ability and disability, what does this society value? and above all, whatever the answer to these questions, whether or not she uses a prosthesis or is badass without one, how does she deal with the eternal freezing cold that every amputee ever feels constantly in their residual limb and why does nobody make a heat pack that fits over a nub without drafty gaps???

i can't outright tell you how to write a good upper limb amputee, but if you at least know why you're writing one and for what purpose, you're on track to write the best character that you can. that's the best advice i can give… other than, like, this whole rambly mess.

and, as a reward for reading this far, please have a very blurry cryptid photo of my cat doing his old man sit:

#prosthesis #prosthetic #disability #ableism

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ravengards-rogue · 3 months

Text

i thought of you so often.

arthur morgan x reader.

✧ tags : fem!reader (gendered language, explicit use of she/her in reference to reader), children / planning on children, generally sappiness, fluff, au where nothing bad happens to arthur hdskjsdkfhsj.

✧ wc : 2.4k (???)

✧ a/n : arthur morgan.... save me arthur morgan....also not a super original thought but i can't Stop thinking about it.

✧ synopsis : a collection of love letters, all unfinished, tucked somewhere you aren't meant to find them. oh, arthur loves you more than you knew.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

You try to keep out of Arthur's belongings.

He's owed some privacy, for one. More than that, you've never felt any reason to look into it. Arthur isn't a man of many words, though you catch moments of his introspection should you pry. He isn't stoic, neither. And above all things, he's kind. Really truly kind in a way that makes him different from other men.

You don't have any complaints about him is what you mean. Unlike the men you've loved before, there are no short-comings of Arthur that would drive you to wanting to investigate his own personal things. Especially something so personal like his journals, prior or present.

On top of that, you were there with him through everything. You were part of the gang and stayed by him when it all fell apart. It was towards the end of that that Arthur came to you near frenzied, told you his plans, his thoughts. Confided in you and no less than begged to go with him where he ran.

You loved Arthur enough to stay, and so things ended - and you ran. There isn't much his journal could tell that you couldn't surmise on your own.

It's been years now, and you've long since left that life. You live with Arthur quietly, peaceful in the moments with a garden and kitty sweet as sugar.

It's a good life. An honest, quiet one sometimes to the point of being boring. You rarely miss the action, though occasionally you'll take up a bounty just to feel alive and make some money.

Mostly though, you live as unassuming folk. No bloodshed, no wardens, no gunslinging.

Been talk between you both about having a baby, recently. Serious talk. You've made some money between here and there, and you've got a good life. You've traveled too. But it gets a little lonely, and you don't really get your fill with just Jack when John and Abi are ways away.

Before anything like that, though - you need to clear some space. Empty out some belongings and things collecting dust. Living in one place for too long creates all sorts of mess, you find. When Arthur is home to help, he does - but he's been busy lately figuring something out with Charles. Some business venture related to ranching that you know nothing about so far. They'll tell you when its ready.

Usually when you're tidying, you keep to just your things, or your shared things - but Arthur has lived more life than you. It shows in that big closet space filled with nick-knacks he has yet to toss.

You'd mentioned it to him not too long ago and he'd given you permission to go through them.

(A kiss to your forehead from chapped lips and hands holding your waist, Arthur hums in acknowledgement as you ask his permission.

"Ain't nothing I gotta hide from you. Do whatever you need.)

But like you said - you try to keep your nose out of his business if it's not necessary for you to be in it in anyway.

You weren't trying to look through his things, really. You started cleaning, worked your way to that last box. Up on a shelf in his closet, a little too high for you to reach easily. You made a misstep and dropped the damn thing. It barely missed your head as the whole thing fell open, and out came journals and papers and photographs.

You've always known Arthur to be sentimental, so none of it has been particularly surprising. A photo of wolves and him on a horse, the picture from John and Abigail's engagement. Some other scraps of sentimental value.

And then there was a journal. Not Arthur's journal that he's always using, but another you've never seen before. You know Arthur journals, seen the thing plenty though you never look unless he shows you first.

A journal with a dark brown stained leather binding, fallen open and your name scrawled out in pencil lead at the top of it.

The curiosity got the better of you, okay? Not your damn fault.

So you're thinking on it.

The fabric of your skirt is pooled out underneath you as you hold the thing in your hands, sitting down on the ground surrounded by things. You've stowed away everything else that fell out from the box after ensuring it was intact, including Arthur's journals. Everything with the exception of the one you're holding.

Some guilt eats at you. You don't wanna upset him potentially by having looked. Even if he gave you permission, looking in the damn thing is a little different. But your name was there so clearly, and well - you didn't think he wrote about you. Apart from here and there, maybe.

You hold the book out in front of you with a sigh, looking fondly at his name ingrained in the leather. You press your forehead against it with, resigning yourself completely.

"Lord forgive my pryin'," You mumble, hoping it's enough to absolve you.

Your heart feels funny as you let your fingers trace over the hard edge of the front cover, one eye shut as you start to open it slow.

The first few pages are nothing special.

A page outlining who the journal belongs to and when it was started, and some doodles of yarrow and oleander. The pages after that filled with mundane entries. About people he met or things he saw, all endearing to you. The corners of your lips tug up slightly.

You really love this man helplessly.

You flip through a few more pages, many of them blank before writing starts to appear again. Little by little, you find passages. You look to the dates up at the corner (though not all of them have one) and trace the timeline. This is from all the way back in Horseshoe Overlook.

It feels like ages ago now.

You look at a page with no date, and reading the writing in it. There's doodles of flowers and trees along the bottom of the page. The words are easy enough to make out - because Arthur has the most unusually beautiful handwriting.

There's some entries about you. At first, they all include your name in some context. Mentioned in the same way Arthur might mention Hosea or Abigail. The further you go, the less you see it. The more you become her and she.

It's a trend. The longer you read, the less there is about anyone else. Just you and all your silly idiosyncrasies tucked between pages. Something lovestruck and foolish lights its match in you.

Saw a body hanging at the tracks at Valentine. A gruesome sight. I told her about it and she laughed. Asked me to take her to see it. A strange woman, by all accounts.

You feel yourself smile a little as you continue to flip through the pages.

She joined me riding into town today. Said she had some business to attend but would not tell me any details. After, she came with me to purchase a new gun. I engraved a snake into it's handle, per her request.

Another few pages littered with drawings of delicate berries and waterfalls before you stumble across more writing. The more you flip, the longer the passages become you.

You can't tear your eyes away.

Rained today. Nothing too terrible or worth mentioning, except that she nearly caught a cold playing in it. I brought her coffee to keep her warm, but could not scold her further upon seeing her delight.

Another passage, this time written with messier hand writing. A coffee stain splatters on the white of the page.

Your heart tugs on itself. Swells about a thousand sizes. To think he wrote so much of your time together between these pages.

You read and read and read - and each passage is a little more mundane at the last. Some pages go on in vivid detail, but others are so short you aren't sure what to make of the fact he wrote them at all. As if such little details were important enough to keep in mind.

I picked a flower for her. I thought it would suit her taste. It was white with delicate petals. I did not know the name.

She wore it in her hair this evening. I find I can't stop grinning.

One passage on the next few pages, longer than the rest, catches your eye. From later in your time together, written when you were in Leymone. Near Scarlett Meadows and before the mess in Saint Denis.

After Arthur had been kidnapped.

I have gone on and on about the business with Colm O'Driscoll in many entries before this one. Yet, I find it difficult to forget. Many times I have come close to death, and still no experience lingers on my mind quite like this one. Everyone has done their best to look after me. For that I am grateful, though I do not care for being looked after. What use am I like this, I wonder? Perhaps, I should simply be grateful to be alive and in one piece, if a little uglier than I was. Alongside Miss Grimshaw and Miss Tilly, she has been by my side while I recovered. Such a carefree woman and yet I have seen her cry and weep over me countless times in the last few weeks alone. The decent man in me is apologetic for causing sorrow. Perhaps, it is the outlaw in me that feels some strange relief or satisfaction. Her fussing does not give me any grief. If anything, I find myself all the more endeared. Such a decent woman does not belong in a place like this. I hope she is able to go somewhere far away and live peacefully. I am not so shameless to want anything more. The time together we have spent, I will make sure to cherish.

Something painful and pitiful tugs at your heart. Even when Arthur admitted his feelings for you, he had started it on a similar tangent. You tell him often that you're the one who feels out of bounds with him. That a man as decent and as honest as him often feels like too much for you to have so easily.

A tear slips from your eye and you laugh at your own sentimentality, wiping it away before it can splatter onto the pages.

The further you read, the more sporadic entries become. You find that there are pages filled with sketches of you, but many of them are scratched out or half erased - like he did not find them good enough. Of your side profile, of your hands, of you pointing at a target with a gun. You feel a strange feeling of love wash over you.

Instead of concrete thoughts, you're met with Arthur's abstract. Subtle complexities and studies. There's honest tenderness in the way he sketches you and the words he chooses to caption each with. Lighter, thinner lines. Smaller doodles like stray daydreams caught onto a page.

You've never doubted Arthur in his love for you, quiet man he is - but it proves to overwhelm when presented to you in such a way.

You get to back pages. There, you're finally met with more writing. Except, instead of journal entries, there's the start of letters. You find your name at the top of the page.

Over and over. Love letters, all unfinished or scrapped. Written over and over and over, but not completed. There's tens of them at least. You've never received a love letter from Arthur before, though it's nothing you fault him for.

Now you're almost glad. You like this much better.

My darling girl My muse The better half of me, I must find some way to tell you all of what I think of you. It seems no words do it justice, I'm afraid. Still, it is in my best interest to try.

Damn that man.

When you find yourself starting to weep, you don't fight the feeling. You merely shut the book closed and set it in your lap before crying into your hands.

Such overwhelmingly happy tears. You feel off balance. If the whole world turned on its head this very minute, you're unsure you'd notice. What a decent, honest man you've come to love. What a tender one.

In the middle of your crying, you don't hear the door open or close. Nor do you hear Arthur's heavy footfall until he's in the doorway, with a voice worried half to death.

"Sweetheart, what in the hell?"

You turn your head to look at him, watching his eyes widen at your tear stained face. You clamber to your feet hurriedly, book dropping onto the ground next to you as you throw yourself at him as soon as you can.

Arthur is a steady enough man not to stumble when you do, though you can feel his apprehension. Eventually, he circles his arms around your waist. His hugs are strong. Bout strong as him and then some. An arm wrapped around your waist, the other crossed over your back all around your shoulder. Full pressure as he squeezes you tight, patting the back of your head.

"I leave you alone for a few hours. What has gotten into you, little lady?"

You pull back and and look at him, wet lashes and all, before leaning up to kiss him. Arthur meets your lips chastely at first before making a noise of surprise as you kiss him further. You use both hands to grab his face as you do, scruff scratching against your skin. His lips are soft, welcoming. He melts into the touch, so easily - blue eyes lovestruck as you pull away.

"You know I love you, don't you Arthur? More than anyone in this crazy world we live in,"

His face softens visibly. He smiles at you, touching his head to yours.

"Somehow, I do. Though, I'm wonderin' what the hell brought this on."

You tuck your face against his chest, feeling his laughter reverb through you at the way you cling to him so fervently. You sniffle as you talk.

"Found your journal. The one about me,"

He goes stiff, then silent. When you look up again, he's blushing red. He pinches his brow.

"Lord, I'd forgotten all about it,"

You shake your head.

"Ain't nothing for you to be embarrassed about. You are so wonderful,"

He pouts at you. Your heart swells. "You ain't helping with the embarrassment."

You hold him further. Hug him so tight, worried he'll disappear if you don't.

"I love you, Arthur."

"You already told me once, didn'tcha?"

"And I'll tell you one thousand times over," You emphasize, pouting at him. "Really. I love you,"

"I love you too sweetheart," His hand cups your face, thumb brushing along your waterline. "Don't cry no more. Spoils that pretty face."

"I'll try but I don't know if it's all out of me,"

Arthur laughs, pressing a kiss against your hairline. "Guess I'll just have to wipe your tears."

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

#zero.writes #rogues love letters #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fluff #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 fluff #red dead redemption x reader #this is so lovesick and silly i feel so miserable #I AM A JOHN GIRL. BUT. well that deadbeat father and bastard isnt gonna write you love letters like arthur im afraid

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arachine · 1 year

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♡ ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ｡･* . . . their firsts .ᐟ

ᥫ᭡ featuring :: neteyam, lo’ak and kiri sully

ᥫ᭡ includes :: their first kisses & times !!

ᥫ᭡ genre :: mature

ᥫ᭡ general tags :: sexual content (nothing explicit), fluff

ᥫ᭡ content warnings :: characters are aged up, dry humor

ᥫ᭡ note :: depending on the attention this receives, i may or may not make a part two with spider, tsireya, and a’onung >_<

♯ first…kiss with neteyam .ᐟ

+ neteyam’s got that older brother charm. a real gentleman, through and through—which isn’t the least bit surprising because he’s neytiri’s son, after all. and given this, he just…naturally excels at most things, even kissing. when it happens, it’s kind of almost unreal, sort of like a fairytale. he’s just so…good at it, doesn’t rush you, or force his tongue down your throat, or do anything that would even slightly make you uncomfortable.

no, he’s slow—methodical. takes his time with you because he wants to taste you, and commit it to memory. i’d like to think he even makes you laugh before he goes in, because he’s just like that, you know? like, yeah, he’s got neytiri’s whole face but he’s still his daddy’s son—he’s got the smugness and attitude to prove it.

♯ first…time with neteyam .ᐟ

+ god, i don’t even know where to begin. every fiber of my being believes that he’d make it the most comfortable, painless experience ever. usually, most people dread their firsts—simply because their partners didn’t: 1) prep them properly, 2) make sure that they finished, or 3) provide aftercare—but neteyam? yeah, he’s going above and beyond, and checking off every single one! you being in pain and miserable was simply never an option.

as previously mentioned, i’d like to think he’d try and calm your nerves by making you laugh. just a few jokes here and there, just to get your mind off of the initial stretch of his fingers working you.

— “who’s the prettiest girl on pandora?” he teases, leaving zephyr-light kisses all over your face. you think he’s so corny, but giggle anyway, shoving lightly at his chest.

“stop it!” but he’s relentless, still peppering your face with kisses, still prodding your slit. you’re so distracted by his attempts to calm your nerves, that you don’t even notice his finger is all the way in. not until he pulls it out and praises you for opening up for him.

— “see, look at you,” a gentle hand rises to caress your cheek, “so pretty.”

♯ first…kiss with lo'ak .ᐟ

+ the concept of patience is entirely foreign to him. patience and him are like oil and water. they just don’t mix. he’s a here, now, and fast type of guy, always has been. and when the moment arises between you two, he’s the first to initiate it—however, it’s no fairytale moment. it’s toothy, wet, and inexperienced.

i’d like to think it’s you who has to take the initiative when it comes to kissing. and through this, he begins to get a sense of the things you like: how slow he should go, how much tongue, where he should hold you, and how he should move his lips. eventually, he gains enough confidence to kiss you the way he’s been wanting to kiss you—which is hard, and rough, and passionate—just a lot less toothy and wet.

♯ first…time with lo'ak .ᐟ

+ it’s all baby steps and hand holding with him in this department too. this is the one instance in which i don’t think he’d charge into. i think after kissing you for the first time, he’d use some of that knowledge to decipher how he’d go about it. at first, he’s like incredibly scared to touch you, just hovering over you like a sheet of paper, scared that if he uses just the slightest amount of strength, you’ll break or something.

— “does that hurt?” / “can you feel that?” / “maybe if we try it this way…” / “am i in?”

the sentiment is cute, thoughtful even. because don’t get me wrong, a man that takes the time to ask you how he should touch you, where he should touch you, and how you’re feeling during sex is amazing. bravo to any guy who does it (it’s the bare minimum), but lo’ak does it to the point where you’re questioning if he’s scared of pussy. overall, i think this is something you’ll have to take the initiative for too.

— “lo’ak if you don’t touch me right now, i swear to god i’m going to kill you and then myself.”

♯ first…kiss with kiri .ᐟ

+ my sweet girl. my bestest girl. i just know it’d be so fucking cute. like actually, the type of kiss where your leg slowly springs up (i.e. the princess diaries). yeah, it’d be that good. girls just do everything better anyway, and it’s kiri, so the expectations were already high (duh). the thing about kiri is, when she kisses, she really commits to the kiss. she doesn’t do half-assed, because kissing is like dessert.

it’s supposed to be (especially first kisses) sweet, and airy, and dizzying—and it is! the amalgamation of her tender touches, and the little giggles in between, and the teasing ‘run and follow’ your lips do…are all things that add to the experience. a kiss with kiri will literally have you on speed dial with uhaul, trust and believe!

♯ first…time with kiri .ᐟ

+ like neteyam, she’d be so attentive. just making sure you’re comfortable, reassuring you, whispering words of encouragement, and checking in on you mentally. she knows that sex can be exhausting (both physically and mentally), so i’d like to think she’d spend extra time on foreplay and aftercare than she would during the actual act itself—not that she had to spend much time on you anyway, because getting you to finish wasn’t something she considered to be much of a feat.

also, kiri is a princess, she’s literally the first born daughter. she may often appear to have a tough exterior, but…it’s just a front. dote on her and shower her with the same affections she showered you with, treat her like a little doll and watch her crumble underneath your fingertips from the smallest of praises.

— “such a sweet girl, staying open for me.” / “could watch you do that all day.” / “nobody touches me the way you do.”

#neteyam x reader #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam x reader smut #neteyam sully x reader smut #lo’ak x reader #lo’ak sully x reader #lo’ak sully x reader smut #lo’ak x reader smut #kiri x reader #kiri sully x reader #avatar x reader smut #avatar x reader #avatar the way of water smut #avatar the way of water #atwow x reader

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joelsgreys · 1 year

Text

to do the right thing l part ii

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Pregnant! Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: Joel has a hard time dealing with things as the pregnancy progresses; you and Joel ask Bill and Frank for the favor of a lifetime.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. BOSTON QZ ERA. ((TW)) PREGNANCY, mentions and references to adoption, angst, asshole Joel, mentions of Sarah, softer Joel towards the end.

word count: 7.9k

a/n: i actually spent more time writing this second part, so hopefully it is a bit more well written than the first one that i wrote in an hour in the middle of the night. T_T

February, 2020

“Well, can I just say that we are just so incredibly thrilled that you two could finally come and join us for dinner this evening,” Frank beamed, grinning from ear to ear as he burst into the dining room with a bottle of his favorite red wine in one hand and a bottle opener in the other.

Bill snorted, stabbing his fork just a little too aggressively into his cut of chicken breast.

“Speak for yourself,” he grouched under his breath before taking a bite. Although he’d quit bringing his gun to the table, both you and Joel knew he had the pistol tucked somewhere nearby. You were willing to bet it was tucked into the waistband of his khaki trousers, but Joel would probably argue that it was in a less obvious place, like strapped to his ankle.

It really seemed as though Bill would never allow himself to get used to you, Tess, and he especially wouldn’t allow himself to get used to Joel. He knew it was the smart, logical choice, keeping you three around for the sake of trading supplies and resources when needed, but overall, it wasn't all that necessary. He and Frank had been doing just fine for years before you all had come into their lives after Frank had met Tess over the radio one afternoon. Or at least, that’s what he liked to believe despite the fact that during your very first lunch together, Joel had easily pointed out several flaws around the perimeter of their neighborhood—weak spots that could be vulnerable to raiders if they ever came along. You and Tess joked that Bill put Joel at the top of his shit list the moment he pointed out that their fence only had about a year left to hold strong. He’d been on it ever since.

Having you all around at this point was more for Frank’s benefit than anything. Bill would do just about anything to make Frank happy, and much to his chagrin, you, Tess, and even Joel, made him happy—having friends made him happy. Bill could do without socializing for the rest of his natural born life, but Frank, on the other hand, would lose his sanity.

“Oh, don’t mind him. He’s just been in a bad mood because we had a massive roof leak the other day after that huge thunderstorm," Frank explained, rolling his eyes. Being the attentive, gracious host that he always was, he quickly made his way around the dinner table, pouring everyone a generous glass of wine to enjoy with their meal. “He spent hours up on that roof trying to patch it up and then damn near broke his ankle coming down when he missed the last two steps on the ladder. Can you believe that?”

“Thought I noticed a limp,” Joel remarked with an amused smirk.

Frank nudged Joel in the shoulder as he poured his wine. “I had told him to wait for you, Joel, what with you having been in construction before and all. But Mister ‘I don’t need anyone’s help’ decided to do it himself even though he has never patched a roof before in his life.”

“Tell you what, next time we’re over for lunch, I’ll go up there and check it out. Make sure he did it right ‘cause I highly doubt he did.”

Bill glowered at him.

You roughly smacked the side of his thigh underneath the table.

Joel, please, You thought silently. We need to stay on his good side.

Frank chuckled as he fell into step beside your chair. “That would be very helpful if you did, actually. It would definitely give me a bit more peace of mind, especially since the rainiest season of the year is approaching fast.” He offered Bill an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry sweetheart, but we really should let an expert take a look at it, just to be on the safe side. Joel knows his stuff, after all.”

As he reached for your glass, you quickly placed your hand over the top of it and lightly shook your head. “Oh, none for me tonight, thank you,” You declined politely. The wine was normally your favorite part of any meal they hosted, seeing as Bill and Frank, who were both quite the wine enthusiasts, knew how to make the most heavenly of pairings. It really was a fucking shame that it would be at least a few more months before you could drink again. Lord only knew you could use the alcohol after all of the bullshit that had been going on lately with Joel. “May I have a glass of water instead, please?”

“What? You don’t want any wine?” Frank frowned and reached out with his free hand, pressing the back of it against your forehead. “Are you feeling sick or something? Should we be worried? Bill, where’s the reader—?”

You chuckled at his usual dramatic little antics. “No, I’m fine,” You assured him. “I’d just rather stick to water tonight if that’s okay.”

“That’s really fucking weird of you, but alright,” he sang over his shoulder as he disappeared into the kitchen. He returned a minute later with a tall glass of clean, filtered water in his hand and set it down on the table in front of you before taking his seat next to Bill. He picked up his red cloth napkin and draped it gingerly over his lap. “So, tell us again why Tess couldn’t make it tonight?”

“She, uh, she had a few things she needed to take care of back in the QZ,” Joel explained to him briefly before popping a piece of roasted rosemary potato into his mouth. The truth was that Tess had opted to stay behind and sit this one out, stating that the conversation that would eventually take place tonight would be between the four of you. She didn’t need to be there, nor be a part of it.

“Well that’s such a shame. I really miss her,” Frank lamented between bites of his garden salad. “It’s been a while since we’ve all gotten together for a meal. Hell, this is the first time we’ve seen you in what, a couple of months at least, right Bill?”

“Felt like a lot less than that. But sure, let’s call it a couple of months.” Bill eyed Joel suspiciously. “Sounded a bit urgent when you radioed in and let us know you had to come see us tonight, Joel. More so than usual. I’m guessing that you two must really need something from us.”

You and Joel exchanged a silent glance.

“Jesus Bill, can you please not be so rude to them for once?” Frank scolded, waving a hand dismissively at his partner. He smiled apologetically at you and Joel. “Again, please don’t mind him. It seems to me that we still have some work left to do with his manners.” He paused just long enough to take a delicate sip of his wine. He set his glass down, then picked up his fork and knife. “But, if you do happen to need anything, you know that we are more than happy to help you out as best as we can if we have the supplies and resources to spare.”

“Which we don’t,” Bill chimed in, earning himself a light smack to the shoulder.

Joel ignored him and instead focused his attention on Frank. He was the one to win over out of the two. “That’s awfully kind of you, Frank. You know that we always appreciate your warm hospitality,” he remarked, and although he was laying it on a little thick for the sake of getting into his good graces, there was an underlying sincerity in his tone. He actually happened to like Frank—it was hard for anyone not to like him. Joel lifted his glass of wine to him in a toast. “Of all the people we could’ve come across on the radio that day, we’re grateful that it was you.”

Frank touched a hand lightly to his chest. He then picked up his own glass, clinking the rim against Joel’s. “Well, cheers to that.”

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Bill grumbled, shaking his head.

Joel nudged your leg under the table as if to let you know it was time.

On the way up to Lincoln, he had suggested Bill and Frank would be a lot more inclined to agree to yours and his pending request if it came from you. Joel could butter Frank up well enough, but Bill hated his fucking guts, and you probably had a better chance of winning the survivalist over than Joel did.

You cleared your throat lightly, garnering everyone’s attention. “I have some news to share. Well, actually, we have some news to share.”

Bill raised a thick, bushy eyebrow. “What kind of news?”

“News? Is everything okay?” Frank asked, suddenly worried. “Wait. Is it Tess? Is she alright? Did something happen?”

“No, it isn’t anything like that at all. Tess is perfectly fine,” You quickly reassured him, causing him to sink back against his chair in relief. You held your breath for a moment before exhaling it softly through your mouth and announcing, “I’m, um—I’m pregnant.”

Bill nearly choked on his chicken and Frank gasped, both hands flying to his mouth in complete shock. The seconds passed in silence, and the room had gone so quiet that one could have heard a fucking pin drop on the floor. You felt the heat flood to your face and nervously shoved a forkful of baked chicken into your mouth, deciding it would be best to just give them a bit of time to process the news before moving onto phase two. However, Joel wasn’t there to waste any time and decided to step in.

“Listen, I know that this is probably a lot to take in, but we didn’t exactly come over here to share that with you just for shits and giggles. As much as it pains me to say it, Bill is right,” he admitted reluctantly. That was one phrase Joel Miller could do without saying ever again. “Truth is, we do need somethin’ from you two. We’ve got a favor to ask you both, a big one at that.”

That had been enough to slap Bill back into reality.

“Oh no, stop right there! I can see where this is going from a fucking mile away!” He jumped up from his chair, furiously shaking his head as he wagged his index finger at you and Joel. “Listen here, we have been as generous as we can possibly be with the two of you, and with Tess—but there’s got to be a line drawn somewhere and this is it! There is no fucking way in hell that we’re taking you into our home, into our neighborhood! This place belongs to us, we built it, we secured it! We worked our goddamn asses off for all that we have and just because she’s pregnant does not mean we will allow you to—”

“That’s not it.” Though your voice was smaller, softer, it managed to get through to Bill over his angry ranting. “That’s not it at all, Bill. We’re not trying to move here or invade your space like that, I swear it.”

His hand dropped down to his side. “Really?”

“No. Of course not. We know you have boundaries, and so does Frank. And whether you choose to believe it or not, we do our best to respect them as much as we possibly can.”

“Oh.” Bill slowly sank back down to his chair, looking relieved. “Then what is it that you two want? You need baby clothes or baby blankets from the boutique or something?”

“Not exactly,” You mumbled. You took a quick minute to think it over in your head, wondering if there was any correct or tactful way to ask what you were about to ask of them—there wasn’t. It didn’t matter if you spun it a million different ways, Bill was still going to blow a fuse again no matter what. “We wanted to ask you and Frank if you would be willing to take the baby into your care once it’s born.”

And just like that, Bill’s temporary relief vanished. “I beg your fucking pardon?”

You turned to Joel, saying tightly through your teeth, “A little fucking help here, please?”

“Look. Boston ain’t no fuckin’ place for a child,” Joel started, lifting his hand in an attempt to keep Bill calm this time. “Too much shit’s been goin’ on there lately. Violence has escalated, supplies are gettin’ harder to get and costin’ us more than ever before. So we want to know if you and Frank are willing to take the baby after it’s born. It would be better off here with you two than with us in the QZ.”

Bill didn’t need to think twice about it. He answered Joel with a stern, “Absolutely not.”

Joel let out an irritated sigh and dropped his fork. The utensil clanked loudly against the white porcelain plate. He dropped his face into his hands, rubbing it harshly. “Fuckin’ knew he wasn’t gonna make this easy for us.”

You chewed anxiously on your bottom lip, an overwhelming feeling suddenly washing over your entire body from head to toe. It was strange to feel this way, considering the fact Bill and Frank’s place had always been something of a temporary escape for you. Their neighborhood, their home, it usually brought you a sense of peace and tranquility—you felt comfortable whenever you were here. But between Bill’s angry outburst, his instant decline to your request, and Frank’s wide, shocked eyes still fixed intently on you, you suddenly found yourself wishing you were anywhere but in Lincoln.

“You’re pregnant?” Frank’s incredulous voice broke the silence that had fallen over the dinner table. Part of you wondered how much of the conversation he had even heard or if it had just gone in through one ear and out the other. “You’re really pregnant?”

“Frank,” Bill said his name warningly. “Don’t even think about it.”

Frank ignored him, his attention still on you. “How far along are you?”

You glanced at Joel before turning back to him. “It’s just an estimate, but we’re thinking at this point that I might be about four and a half months, maybe almost five?” You replied with a small shrug of your shoulders. “We aren’t too sure, though.”

“And it’s yours?” Bill questioned, eyeing Joel in disbelief.

Joel glared at him, his aggravated silence speaking for him.

“Oh, Bill.” Frank suddenly turned to him with a hopeful expression. “A baby!”

There had been a couple of different occasions where, while sitting outside on the front lawn enjoying a glass of iced tea in the sunshine, Frank had confessed to both you and Tess of his desire to have a family one day. He acknowledged the chances of that ever happening were virtually impossible, but he admitted that it was something he had been dreaming of since meeting Bill. He wanted to be a father. He wanted a child, and here you were, with one that you couldn’t keep.

“Frank. No.” Bill stared at him, unable to fathom how he could even think that taking in a child could possibly be a good idea. “I’m sorry. You know I try to give you everything that you ask for, but I have to put my foot down this time. I have enough trouble keeping you safe as it is! We’ve had raiders come and try knocking at our door before—”

“And you’ve fought them off,” Joel reminded him. “Successfully.”

“Not to mention, think of all the things we would have to do in order to raise a kid, all the supplies and resources we would use up in just the first year alone—”

“Bill, we know this is a lot to ask of you, of both of you,” You somehow managed to chime in. “We know that a favor like this is one we would never be able to repay you for, not in this lifetime. But it’s this child’s only shot. What kind of life would it have where we live? What kind of future would it have in the QZ?”

“Hm. Sounds like not our fucking problem,” Bill quipped. “Sorry.”

Frank’s eyes left his partner’s and met yours across the table before they fell down to your midsection. “You said you’re about four and a half months?”

You gave him a small nod.

Bill might not have been on board, but you still had Frank.

He was your only hope.

“Yes, but again, it’s an guess. We don’t want anyone else in the QZ knowing that I’m pregnant, so I haven’t been to see a doctor. But we think it’s a pretty close guess.” Suddenly, an idea came to mind. You hesitated, at first, but knew it was your best shot at finishing the job and reeling Frank in. You slowly stood up from the table and with trembling fingers, you started to unbutton the flannel jacket you were wearing—Joel’s flannel jacket—and showed him the swollen belly you had been hiding underneath it. It was on the smaller side, but still quite prominent underneath a snug-fitting, cotton blue tank top.

“Oh!” Frank breathed out in surprise. He rose to his feet, rushing over and around to your side of the table. He excitedly lifted his hands, but then stopped himself, glancing at you for permission first. “Would it be alright if—?”

“Of course, go right ahead,” You encouraged with a tiny smile as you continued holding the jacket open for him.

Frank sank to his knees in front of you. He lightly cradled the small bump in between his palms, looking up at you with a look of absolute wonder on his face.

It felt bizarre, not only showing your midsection to someone else, but having another set of hands besides your own on it felt foreign as well.

As soon as you’d started showing, Joel had refused to go near you—the way he tried painfully to ignore it caused you to keep it hidden away underneath oversized clothes, even in the privacy of your own quarters.

During the first few weeks of your pregnancy, he’d been just fine. Well, as fine as he could be. But once your belly had popped, it was as if it had all suddenly sunk in and really clicked for Joel—this was one hundred percent fucking real now and that was his baby growing inside of you. Since that moment, he hadn’t quite been himself, at least not with you.

Joel still looked out for you, of course. He didn’t dote sweetly on you and shower you with affection, but he did take responsibility in the ways that mattered. He made sure that you were taking the prenatal vitamins Tess had found for you, he made sure that you were eating enough, and if he ever noticed that you were still hungry, he would shovel his own portion onto your plate without asking and head off to sleep on an empty stomach. He helped you out whenever you were assigned to the same work detail, taking on an extra load of work on top of his own if it meant sparing you from even the slightest risk of straining yourself or over exerting your body.

Sure, he still cared for you. He wouldn’t do any of that if he didn’t.

But that didn’t mean things between you hadn’t changed.

They had.

Drastically.

Joel kept his distance from you, physically. He hadn’t fucked you, kissed you, or so much as even touched you in the last couple of months. He’d even started sleeping on the couch, leaving you to sleep alone in your once shared bed. Whenever he spoke to you, he stood at least a few feet away, and his eyes always remained trained on your face—he took especially great care to not look at your growing stomach. You could briefly recall one morning when you’d squeezed past him in the kitchen to grab a mug from the sink while he’d been making his morning coffee; when your belly accidentally brushed against his hand, he had cringed, snatching it away from you as if he’d touched something unpleasant. Deep down, you knew this was his own twisted, fucked up way of coping with how he was feeling, but it still didn’t stop you from wishing that he’d quit acting as if you and the baby were the fucking plague.

As much as you tried to deny it, the way Joel had been treating you lately hurt you. It cut you deep, down to your very core. You put on a good front for him and Tess, though, acting as if none of it bothered you. But the tears that you shed on the nights they left you alone to go out on their runs were endless.

“Oh Bill,” Frank glanced pleadingly over his shoulder at his partner, his hands still on your stomach. “Please.”

“Frank—”

“Please.”

Bill couldn’t refuse Frank a majority of the time. But this was bigger than anything he’d ever asked of him and it was going to take more than his usual amount of convincing to get him to agree.

Bill scoffed, narrowing his eyes at you. “Let me guess. You want us to take this baby in and you want us to clothe it, feed it, and protect it. You want us to do the real work of raising it, using up our supplies and resources. And then what? You two come along to play mommy and daddy whenever you fucking feel like it?”

You shuffled from foot to foot, wincing slightly at his harshness. “No, of course not.”

Joel wasn’t all too fond of Bill’s tone towards you. He leaned forward, throwing him a warning glare across the table. “She’d like to visit,” he informed him, keeping his temper under control. He knew better than to go off on Bill, not when you were still trying to convince him to do you both the favor of a fucking lifetime. “Every now and again, just to see the kid. But we think it’s best if we do a closed adoption, if you wanna call it that. You and Frank are the parents, and we’re just a couple of friends who come by and visit daddy and daddy every now and again for lunch.”

“Right, and you really want me to believe that there’s no chance she’s going to be attached to this baby after carrying it for nine months?” Although Bill was facing and speaking directly to Joel, it was obvious he was indirectly grilling you. And here Joel thought the man might have had something of a soft spot for you. “Think about it, Joel. You don’t think one day she might waltz in here and decide she wants to take it back? Break Frank’s heart when he has to give up a child he’s going to undoubtedly fall in love with?”

Anger simmered underneath your skin, bubbling in your veins at the insinuation that you could ever do something to hurt Frank. “First of all, stop talking about me like I’m not in the fucking room, alright? I’m standing right here, so fucking look me in the face if you’re going to talk about me.” You seethed. Frank stood up and placed his hand on your shoulder in an effort to calm you, but it was too late. “This isn’t a fucking game, Bill. This isn’t a decision that we made on a whim or that we’re taking lightly. Me and Joel are just trying to do right by this child. If you and Frank agree to take it in as your own, it’s all yours. I’m not going to take it back,” You practically spat. “Once it’s done, it’s fucking done.”

“Alright, alright. I’m going to need you to just take a deep breath and relax before you bring on early labor in the middle of my dining room.” Frank gently guided you until you were sitting back in one of the chairs and handed you your untouched glass of water. He waited patiently as you took a few sips and then took the glass from your hand, setting it back down on the table. “Listen, before we decide anything, I just have to ask—is this really what you want to do? This is a decision that you made, right? No one is making you do this?” He noticed Joel raise his eyebrows at what he was suggesting, and before he could chime in, Frank quickly added, “I just need to hear it from her, Joel.”

“This is what’s best,” You answered honestly, feeling a dull ache in your heart that had become all too familiar. “I have spent so many long nights lying in bed just thinking this over. We don’t have any other choice, not if we want it to have a chance at a decent life. That is what I want, Frank. For it to have a chance at a decent life.”

“This child is gonna grow up and want to know who its parents are,” Bill pointed out. “Thought about that at all?”

“Use your imagination,” Joel remarked before taking a quick sip of wine. “Make somethin’ up. Lie. Tell it you found it in a basket floating down the fuckin’ river. Whatever it takes. We don’t ever want the kid to know it’s us.”

“Going to be kind of hard if it comes out looking like your clone.” Bill gestured to you with a nod of his head. “Or hers.”

“It’ll be a long, long time before this child is even old enough to notice things like who he or she looks like,” You released a little scoff, tired of him using any reason he could think of to stand against it. “Bill, please. Can’t you at least think about it for the next few weeks and at least consider it?”

“No.”

Your face fell.

Motherfucker really wasn’t going to budge.

“Well now, wait just a second.” Frank walked over to him and put his hands on his burly shoulders. “Bill, think about it. This is our chance.” He squeezed his shoulders. “To have a family. A real family.”

“Family? It’s not our fucking kid—it’s not a part of me or you.”

“But we’ll love it like it is! Blood isn’t what makes a family. Love is,” he reminded him softly.

You swallowed back the lump that had risen in your throat.

Bill might have been a stubborn jackass, but you knew that Frank would show him how to be a good father. He had already shown him how to be an amazing, loving partner.

“So?” Joel prompted. He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back into his chair.

Bill scowled at him. He said nothing as he reached for his glass of wine, chugging every last drop in one long gulp before he stood up and stalked out of the dining room.

Frank had his answer.

And so did you and Joel.

As the next several weeks turned into months, pregnancy—and your ever ongoing attempts at hiding it from everyone in the Boston QZ—had really started to take its toll on you, physically, mentally, and emotionally. Joel had given you all but his entire wardrobe, helping to keep your condition hidden as well as possible, but it was taking a hell of a lot more than just his jackets and shirts to keep it a secret. When you entered your third trimester, you were starting to struggle immensely with work detail, finding it more and more difficult to keep up with what authorities expected of you. Everything ached—your feet, your back, and even the hairs on your fucking head were hurting, and yet you were forced to carry on with your daily duties as best you could to avoid raising any suspicions.

“Frank said it might be best if you gave birth at their place,” Joel commented over dinner one night. Tess was out doing a solo run, and it had just been the two of you for the last couple of days. Lately, you almost wished she would stop leaving you alone with Joel. Ever since that night at Bill and Frank’s, he had been acting a lot colder towards you, more than ever before. He could hardly look at you most days. Before, he could at least stand to look at your face. Now, there wasn’t a single part of you that his eyes could meet. “As soon as you start feelin’ off, we’re gonna need to get you over to them. Frank talked Bill into lettin’ you stay for a few days if it comes down to it and you need some time to heal.”

You simply nodded, your gaze fixed on the torn paper napkin in front of you. “Okay.”

He bit into his piece of jerky, his eyes also glued to the table. Out of his peripheral vision, he could see that you’d finished your portion already. He reached out, dropping his piece in front of you onto your napkin. “Need to eat more,” he grumbled. He picked up his glass of whiskey, polishing it off before pouring himself another.

You couldn’t stand it.

You couldn’t fucking take it anymore.

“Joel.” You said his name in a smaller voice than what you had been aiming for. “Can we talk?”

He racked his brain for the first bullshit excuse he could think of. “It can wait. S’real late and we need to get to bed soon. We got early work orders tomorrow.”

“No, Joel, actually, it can’t fucking wait.” Your heart was pounding at a rate that felt far too fast for your body and you tried to remind yourself to remain calm. You knew you needed to keep your emotions in check, or else your distress could cause distress to the baby. “We need to talk. Now.”

Joel drew an impatient breath. “Talk ‘bout what, exactly?”

“About how you’ve been acting over the last few months.” Your voice trembled and you almost kicked yourself for it. The last thing that you needed to do was fucking crumble. “And about the way you’ve been treating me, too. You’ve been keeping your distance from me, acting like I’m some kind of—I’ve seen you cringe a lot less when dumping the infected bodies into the fire pits, let’s just put it that way.”

“Those pregnancy hormones,” he released a short, bitter laugh. “Got you bein’ all dramatic.”

“I am not being dramatic.” Your hands curled into tiny fists. “You won’t talk to me. You won’t touch me. You won’t even fucking look at me anymore! I’m sick of it, Joel.”

“It’s nothin’,” he replied dismissively, shrugging his shoulders. He looked down into his whiskey, feigning a sudden interest in the rich amber hues in his glass.

“Nothing?” You repeated, flabbergasted. “Then why haven’t you slept in our bed with me? Hm? Oh that’s right, because you can’t fucking stand to be that close to me! You’d rather break your back on that old fucking couch rather than sleep next to me.”

Joel’s jaw clenched, his grip around his glass tightening. “Listen, I ain’t doin’ this right now, alright?”

“Joel.” You hesitated. If you crossed this line and pushed one too many of his buttons, there was no fucking going back. “I know that you’re afraid, okay?”

“I ain’t afraid,” he countered through gritted teeth. Finally, he brought himself to look up at you, his eyes meeting yours—that same emotion that he’d just denied was right there behind them as clear as the fucking stars in the sky outside. Joel wasn’t made of stone. He wasn’t any kind of special exception to having normal human feelings. He hid everything pretty well, and because you cared about him, you were willing to put up with his asshole façade because he needed you as much as you needed him. Still, even after years of trying to take the wall he’d built down brick by brick with your bare hands, you hadn’t gotten very far and you wished the man would help you out every now and again and throw you a fucking hammer. “Ain’t no reason for me to be afraid. I ain’t the one who’s fuckin’ pregnant.”

“It’s yours too! This is your baby too, Joel. Your child. It is part of you, just as much as it is a part of me. And ever since day fucking one, you have been scared shitless of it,” You confronted him, another trembling edge coming to your voice. “And I know why, okay? I know that what happened to Sarah—”

Joel froze, going rigid in his seat. His free hand had curled into a fist, his tight knuckles turning ghost white.

It was something of an unspoken rule.

Nobody talked about Sarah.

Hell, the only reason you even knew about his daughter was because you’d accidentally stumbled upon an old polaroid of her while washing his jeans in the kitchen sink one morning. You had found it in one of the back pockets while cleaning them out, the photograph heavily creased as if he spent ample amounts of time folding it open and then folding it closed again. Sarah’s name had been scribbled on the back of the polaroid. Her smile, her nose, it was all Joel, and it had taken you less than sixty seconds to realize the young teenaged girl posing goofily in the picture had been his daughter.

When you’d handed the picture to him while his jeans dried, it was like a silent bomb had detonated. Although it’d been a mere accident on your part, Joel had been so incredibly angry with you, as if you had gone snooping through his past life on purpose. For weeks, he hadn’t said a single word to you unless it had something to do with work or a run.

He’d lost her. He hadn’t told you that, but you’d guessed it.

Whether it was to infection or something else, you didn’t know. And you knew better than to ask him. All you knew was that losing her had done something irreparable to Joel Miller. Whoever he’d been before losing his daughter was dead too.

“Don’t,” he warned, his voice strained. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Joel, please,” You whispered. “Whatever happened to her, you can’t possibly keep it to yourself for the rest of your life. You can talk to me about Sarah—”

Joel slammed his curled fist down onto the table, startling you. He then turned in his chair and flung his glass at the wall behind him, the sound of it shattering into hundreds of pieces echoing throughout the small apartment. Jumping to his feet, he pointed a threatening finger in your face. “Don’t you ever utter her fuckin’ name ever again! You understand me?”

“But Joel—”

“Do you fuckin’ understand me?”

“I understand.” You hardly recognized the squeak that left your lips.

“Go to bed. Now,” he ordered, whirling around on his heel. “It’s fuckin’ late.”

Without another word, Joel stalked over towards the couch and dropped onto it, rolling over onto his side so his back was to you.

You pulled the neckline of his shirt that you wore over your mouth and pressed your palm against it in an effort to muffle a sob.

A few hours later into the middle of the night, Joel had awakened and stood up from the couch only to find you sitting there in the exact same spot where he’d left you at the table. Though it was dark in the apartment, the moonlight that shone through the torn curtains over the window illuminated your face and he could see you hadn’t stopped crying since he’d fallen asleep.

“Y’need to go lay down,” he told you quietly.

You knew this tactic all too well.

His way of apologizing for losing his shit on you without actually apologizing.

“I’m fucking fine right where I am,” You snapped stubbornly in response, quickly dabbing at your damp eyes with the back of your hand. That was a downright lie. Your lower back was on fire from having sat in the chair for so long.

Joel sighed, hanging his head. He knew he’d fucked up. He’d been fucking up for the last several months. He pulled a chair around in front of yours and sat down, his knee touching yours lightly. That alone was enough to send a chill throughout your body. “Sittin’ in that chair for too long ain’t good for your back,” he stated. He waited to see if you would speak and when you didn’t reply a couple minutes later, he sighed again. “Look, I’m real sorry about earlier, alright? Hell, I’m sorry for everythin’. You were right, I’ve been treatin’ you like shit and you definitely don’t deserve it.”

Stunned, you looked up at him.

“I was angry, but I shouldn’t have lashed out on you the way that I did. Much less while you’re in this condition.” He paused, reaching up to rub his face tiredly with one of his hands. He then let it fall back down to his thigh with a loud slapping sound. “It’s a sore spot for me, alright? Always has been and always will be. Nothin’ or no one is goin’ to change that, not ever. Not even you,” he admitted, shoulders sagging as if the realization had just come to him. “You know you mean somethin’ special to me. You know I care about you, and you know you’re what has kept me goin’ these last few years. I’d do just about anythin’ for you. But I need you to respect that I don’t wanna talk about her and I don’t want you bringin’ her up. She is from my past and that is where I need to leave her.”

“But why?” You frowned, wiping a stray tear that had fallen away from your cheek. “That’s not fair to you or to her. She doesn’t deserve to be forgotten about.”

“That what you think it is? That I’m tryin’ to forget about her? Impossible. Not a single day goes by that I don’t think of her.”

You placed your hands down onto your lap and started wringing them together anxiously. “It’s not that I think you’re trying to forget about her, Joel. But you refusing to talk about her, it’s erasing her memory, whether you think of it that way or not.” Noticing him wince at your words, you wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch him—stroke his cheek, hold his hand. But you were finally getting somewhere and you knew better than to move too fast, so you willed yourself to keep your hands to yourself. “And besides that, you aren’t doing yourself any favors by keeping her story a secret. You’ve been carrying the weight of whatever happened to her on your shoulders for what, almost two decades now?”

“It’s my burden to carry, alright?”

“You shouldn’t have to carry it alone.” Your expression softened. It dawned on you. You’d thought you knew how much pain Joel had been in for all these years, but the honest truth was that you didn’t have the slightest clue. You didn’t know how bad he was actually hurting—and that killed you inside. “You need to talk about it, Joel. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. But someday.”

“No. I can’t—”

“Don’t you trust me?”

Joel almost seemed offended that you’d even ask such a thing. “Of course I fuckin’ trust you.”

“Then why won’t you let me in, Joel?” A fresh batch of tears brimmed your eyes, and you blinked them back furiously before they could fall. “After everything that we’ve been through together. I’m carrying your fucking child for god’s sake.”

He didn’t answer. Tearing his gaze away from you, he looked straight ahead at the wall in front of him.

“Joel.”

Silence.

“Joel. Come on. Can you just fucking look at me, please?”

Nothing.

You let out a long, sad sigh of defeat. So much for getting somewhere. “Alright. Fine.” You placed a hand on your stomach and stood up from your chair. “I’m heading to bed. See you in the morning.”

As you padded over towards your mattress, Joel’s voice stopped you dead in your tracks. “Sarah was my daughter.”

Slowly, you turned around, your lips parted slightly.

“Pretty sure you knew that already though,” he chuckled in spite of himself. “She was fourteen years old. Her mom walked out on us when she was just a baby. I spent her entire life raising her by myself. Tommy, well, he was around too, but he was more of a bad influence than anythin’ and sometimes it felt like I was lookin’ after two kids instead of one.”

You walked back over to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Joel reached up and took your hips in his hands, carefully pulling you down to sit on his lap.

“No Joel, I’m way too heavy.” Embarrassed, you quickly tried standing up.

“You think you’re heavy?” He snorted lightly, holding you firmly in place. “If anythin’, you could stand to have a bit more meat on your bones bein’ almost nine months pregnant and all.”

“Blame my nutritious, nourishing diet of jerky and stale crackers.” The sarcasm dripped from your tone.

He let out something in between a snort and a laugh.

You couldn’t help but smile a little and draped an arm around his shoulders.

How you’d missed this. Missed him.

You leaned into him, resting your head in the crook of his neck. For the next several minutes, Joel just held you.

Just when you were beginning to wonder how long the silence would last, he broke it.

“I’m not ready to talk ‘bout what happened to her,” he explained, quietly. “Might not be ready for a long, long time. Not sure if I’ll ever be ready, if you want the honest truth. Sarah, she was my sweet little butterfly. The absolute love of my fuckin’ life. Losin’ her was the worst fuckin’ thing that has ever happened to me. It’s a wound that’s still raw as hell, even after all these years. Might even be one of those wounds that just never heals, you know?”

You lifted your head from his shoulder, your hand going to his hair. You ran your fingers through it, amazed how even after going days without a wash, it always stayed so soft. “I know you don’t want me to say that I’m sorry—”

“I really fuckin’ don’t,” Joel confirmed with a shake of his head. “Won’t change shit. Won’t bring her back. Sure as hell won’t make me feel any better.”

“Then I won’t say it.” You brought your hand back down to your lap and leaned forward. You pressed your lips against his forehead, letting them linger. He stiffened, and you could feel him restraining himself from completely melting into your touch. You knew things would take a little time and you were willing to be as patient as you needed to be for him.

“Losin’ another child—” Joel trailed off, voice hoarse. “I just—I can’t.”

“I know,” You soothed him. “Which is why we’re doing the right thing and letting Bill and Frank take him.”

“Him?”

You offered him a small, tired smile. It really was getting late now and the exhaustion was creeping in. “I haven’t had the chance to tell you. But I think it’s a boy.”

“And how the hell could you possibly fuckin’ know that?”

You shrugged. “Just a gut feeling. Tess thinks it’s a boy too. She says with the way I’m carrying, it must be—” You stopped, doubling over in pain. “Fuck. Ouch.”

Alarmed, Joel’s hand found the small of your back, the other was in front of you, making sure you didn’t fall over off of his lap. “What? What is it?”

“The baby just kicked me.” You grimaced, leaning back into a sitting position. “Right in damn the ribs too. And there goes another one.” You exhaled sharply, the discomfort radiating throughout your body. “Jesus. He must take after you with all the violence.”

Joel seemed a bit stunned. “This the first time it’s ever kicked?”

“No. He’s done it a few times before. But never this much in one sitting. Or this hard.” You winced. “He’s really fighting in there.”

Joel just stared at you, something that looked a bit like awe in his eyes.

Through the slight pain, you raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you want to feel him?”

“Oh I don’t think, uh, I don’t think I should—”

“It’s not going to fucking kill you, Joel.”

He hesitantly lifted his hand. “Where—where do I put it?”

“Here.” You took his hand in both of yours and placed it on the side of your round midsection. “Just give it a second. You’ll feel it right here.”

You watched his face carefully. He jumped slightly once he’d felt the fluttering motion against the palm of his hand, his dark eyes going wide.

Even before the outbreak, Joel never thought he’d feel something like that again in his life.

“He’s strong,” he murmured. “Real strong.”

“I know. Wonder where he got that from,” You joked lightly.

Moving his hand away, Joel placed it on your thighs and awkwardly cleared his throat. “It’s, uh, it’s pretty late. You really do need to get some sleep.”

“Okay. But on one condition.”

“What condition?”

“Will you come to bed with me?”

“‘Course.” He stood up, letting out a small, labored grunt as he lifted you up into his arms.

“I told you I’m heavy,” You reminded him with a laugh. “Joel, put me down. This cannot possibly be good for your back.”

“Oh, shut up.” Joel walked over, gingerly placing you down onto the mattress. He waited for you to get comfortable before climbing in behind you, pulling a wool blanket over both of your bodies. He pulled your back against his chest and draped his arm around you, his hand subconsciously—instinctively—resting on your stomach. His lips found the delicate spot behind your ear and he pressed his lips gently against it, sending a small shiver up your spine.

“Joel?”

“Hm?” He mumbled into your ear. He was already falling asleep.

They were right there, right on the tip of your tongue, those three words that you had been aching to say to him for years.

I love you.

“Nevermind.” You sighed softly. “Goodnight.”

“Mm, g’night,” he murmured, nuzzling his nose into your neck before allowing his sleep to consume him.

#joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller angst #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller pedro pascal #tlou fanfiction #tlou imagine #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #fic: tdtrt

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anxiousnerdwritings · 11 months

Text

Yandere Smaug Headcanons (platonic)

Smaug would be extremely possessive of his darling and just as protective. They are the most valuable possession amongst his hoard after all, his most precious treasure. Their worth is more than all the gold and jewels in the world to him. So much so that he could never part with them. That’s why he insists, or rather demands you stay amongst his hoard, where he knows it’s safe. Besides, you’re surrounded by so many beautiful, shiney things and they’re all yours.

Of course you would be kept in the safety of his sanctum after he’s taken the Lonely Mountain for himself. Harbored amongst all the gold, gems and jewels you couldn’t possibly think of, right where Smaug wants you most. He couldn’t possibly fathom any harm coming to his precious one, not when you have him to protect you.

Smaug is extremely strict about allowing his precious one to go anywhere, even if it is to venture off to another part of his sanctum. He doesn’t like not having them within his sight. He hates the thought of them getting hurt or lost, but he especially despises the idea of them ever stepping foot outside his lair. If that were to ever happen his panic and anger couldn’t possibly be repressed.

If his darling were to stray too far or is gone just a little too long for his liking/comfort, Smaug will follow their scent and drag them back to where he feels most comfortable keeping having them. There are very few places he allows them to venture to and he knows them all by heart, being more than capable to go after them if need be and easily retrieve his darling, bringing them back to the only real space he’s comfortable with them staying kept in. It keeps them closest to him and he can keep his eye on them in every sense of the word, even when he’s sleeping he’ll know if they make even the slightest of changes in their usual movements. Smaug is very well aware of his environment and the space he’s resigned himself to, he’ll know if they take even just one step out of the perimeter he’s allowed them to move freely about.

As much as he spoils his darling, Smaug really only rewards good and obedient behavior. Anything less than or just blatant disobedience won’t be take lightly. Smaug demands respect, especially from his little darling. It’s because of him that you are safe and so well taken care of, the least you can do is show some gratitude and appreciation towards him.

As gruff and grumpy as Smaug can be there are times he can be quite playful with his little darling, especially if it’s what they want and they’ve been pretty well behaved. It didn’t take him long to realize that often then not when his darling would venture off and stray away from where he demanded they stay kept was to solely get him to chase after them in a playful game of tag or hide and seek. He can usually tell the difference in whether his darling is trying to make a run for it or is simply trying to get him to play with them. It’s the gigging that really gives it away.

Not only can Smaug be playful but he’s also an excellent storyteller. When he really wants some peace and quiet or to just get his darling to go to sleep in general, Smaug will use his tail to bring them close to him, curling it around them to keep them in place then he goes on telling them stories of his adventures. Sometimes when his darling is really restless he’ll ask them what story they want to hear but more times then not his stories usually involve him boasting and bragging about himself. He especially takes care to make it clear to his darling that he is in fact the biggest dragon to ever exist. Of course it’s a complete lie but his darling doesn’t know that, and even if they were to question him about it he wouldn’t let up. As far as Smaug’s concerned he is the biggest dragon around now.

As much as Smaug typically comes off as aloof or even flat out terrifying he does hold some genuine care for his darling, even if it is just a little. His obsession is primarily possessive with that possessiveness only becoming all the worse the more his obsession festers and grows. Eventually his darling will become something more than just an object for him to own, they’ll become a treasure he certainly doesn’t want anyone or anything else getting ahold of. And with that said he will do anything to keep them with him, and only with him. He will reign hellfire down on anyone or anything that dares to steal his darling treasure away from him.

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moethewriter · 6 months

Note

Could you do one for Finnick where no one knows they are together except close friends, we know katniss doesn’t like him much at first and the reader knows the rebellion plan and obviously Finnick so she doesn’t stop him from flirting with her and maybe(?) thinks it’s amusing because she knows why he’s doing it but it’s revealed in the arena they’re together and katniss is shocked

I hope you like it! I was excited to write it but I fear I made it far more angsty and less flirty than you would like! TITLE: A Lover's Cry WORD COUNT: 1.8k PAIRING: Finnick Odair x Reader WARNINGS: General hunger games violence, secret relationships, angst and multiple POV! (Katniss, Reader) TAGS: Let me know if I need to tag anything else! A/N: I actually really loved writing this one, and i hope you enjoy it despite only loosely basing it off your prompt! Thank you so much for the request and as always I take constructive critisicsm! Not beta read as usual! -

“So what’s with those two?” Katniss questioned, pointing towards the screen.

She had watched Haymitch flick through the tributes, giving her and Peeta the basics on everyone who was going into the arena. Two had caught her eyes immediately, Finnick Odair from District 4, and Y/N L/N from District 8. She knew their names, their faces but she didn’t know anything about their skills or who they were. But both seemed far too polished, posh and pretty standing in front of their respective crowds. It seemed like they were ready to head back in there, almost like they wanted too.

Haymitch turned towards the television.

“Finnick Odair and Y/N L/N.” He stated, watching the scenes of people he knew, waving towards the crowd of people. Picture perfect smiles adorning their faces.“The Capitol Darlings, everyone loves them … and people to watch out for. Finnick Odair, the youngest Victor in history at only fourteen and Y/N L/N took the top spot for kills from Beetee during her games. Took out nine people in one go. Extremely humble” He shook his head, remembering the brutality.

Katniss made a face. “You’re kidding right?” She snorted.

“Yes, I’m kidding.” Haymitch rolled his eyes. “They’re both peacocks, preeners … The Capitol loves their charm and friendship. They have a lot of support. They would make good allies … but deadly competition.” Haymitch explained.

“Weaknesses?” Peeta questioned, leaning towards his mentor.

“Finnick will have Mags in there, she basically raised him. He’ll want to protect her in whatever ways he can” Haymitch told them, taking a seat. “Y/N … far too trusting at heart and will do anything to protect them both. She’d rather see herself die than her friends.” He stated.

Katniss simply nodded.

Katniss walked into the training room, and scanned her surroundings … She didn’t know these Victors well enough to decide who she wanted to align herself with. According to Haymitch … to make it through the Quarter Quell, she and Peeta needed strong allies. Though she knew deep down the only one she could truly depend on was Peeta.

Katniss walked towards the bow and arrows laying on the table when she heard the sound of a faint giggle, something she thought she would never hear. She looked up, and her eyes moved around the room … finally they landed on the culprit. She frowned at the sight as she watched a blush rise on Y/N’s face. It wasn’t from endurance training, but from Finnick Odair.

Katniss had not taken Finnick, refused to, even … he was far too cocky for her taste and she didn’t want him anywhere near her. But Y/N seemed almost enamoured by him … like she liked … whatever the hell was going on.

Katniss made a mental note of the two, as she headed towards Mags … she would keep that to herself for now. She needed to make some friends here, and Katniss thought that Mags would be a good start.

“You’re going to get us caught, Finnick.” You blushed, pushing him away as you headed in the opposite direction. “Play it cool, Odair … can’t have everyone knowing about us.” You whispered.

“Sorry.” Finnick put his hands up in defence, a small smile lacing his features. “I’ll try to tone it down but looking at you … that’s going to be hard to do.”

“Zip it.” You made the motion of your lips. “We’ve got training to do.” You told him, gesturing towards the room.

Everyone else was laser focused on honing their skills, making it known that they were not to be messed with in the Games. But you two were simply goofing off, and giggling like two schoolgirls who had gossip that no one else knew. You were certain that Snow wasn’t pleased, nor was the new Game Maker but you were in your world. Finnick had always made it hard to concentrate on the task at hand.

You and Finnick had been together for three years. During the 71st Hunger Games you had both been mentors for your respective Districts, and he had confessed to you. It was strange … so confusing to find love in the hardship of the Games but you wouldn’t trade that for the world. You loved him more than anything and he loved you right back. Long distance had been hard at first but you made it work, you would always make it work for him.

“Find me later?” He asked.

“I know your room number.” You said, smiling towards him.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to go back in there.” You whispered, snuggling closer to Finnick.

You knew the plan, and you knew you had to get Katniss and Peeta out of that arena. Plutarch and Haymitch had made that abundantly clear. There was a Rebellion and Plutarch was on your side, he was hiding in plain sight, ready to take down The Capitol. You jumped at the chance to join, even if that meant sacrificing your own life. Finnick had agreed immediately once he knew you were joining. He had always shared your sentiments about having a better future for everyone.

You wanted a better life, a quiet life with him and you would fight for that every single day. You finally had your chance, and you had no idea if it was going to work but you had to try, you had to fight.

“I know.” He whispered, his thumb gliding across your hip. “I’m not either.”

“When we’re in there …” You muttered, kissing his jaw. “You have to remember that Katniss and Peeta are the most important ones there. Okay? You have to protect them first and everything else comes later.”

He smelt like vanilla, probably from the soap supplied from The Capitol, but it was so soothing to you.

“I … I don’t know if I can do that.” Finnick said, plainly. “I know this Rebellion is important … I know that they are important but they’re not the most important things to me, Y/N. You and Mags will always be far more important than some Rebellion.”

“Finnick.” You felt the lump rise in your throat.

This could be the last time that you two were together, and you weren’t handling it well. You knew you would never be safe again after winning The Games. You were well aware that you would never have peace again, but you didn’t think you would be in this position ever again. You certainly didn’t want to be here with Finnick.

“Let’s just be together right now.” He said, kissing the top of your head. “Let’s pretend that nothing is going to happen tomorrow and we're just laying under the stars and nothing is going to go wrong.” His breathing started to even out, and his heartbeat steadied your own.

“Okay.” You whispered, desperately swallowing. “Okay.”

“Finnick! Katniss!” You cried, chasing them into the woods, Johanna and Peeta on your tail.

The Games hadn’t been going as planned.

First you had been separated from Finnick, which had caused you great distress. You ended up pairing with Johanna, Beetee and Wiress, fighting your way through blood rain and wild beasts.

Then you had lost both Wiress and Mags. You had lost so many who joined The Rebellion, you watched the announcements every night and flinched whenever a cannon fired, wondering if you were losing a friend or foe. But you didn’t have time to grieve either of them, so much was at stake. You had to make it through another night to ensure that you would be saved. Giving up when you were so close wasn’t an option

But God you were so tired.

Then … the jabberjays started.

You hated jabberjays.

They hadn't been used during your games, but you knew they tortured anyone who listened.

You had stepped out to find something food for everyone, and Beetee volunteered to come with you. You were all hungry, and getting weaker, especially after the fight at the cornucopia. You needed some sort of energy, and you weren’t going to see anyone die of starvation.

You had been gone for maybe twenty minutes when you heard Katniss scream, shortly followed by Finnick. Fear had seized your heart, as you wasted no time chasing the sounds, Beetee desperately calling for you.

You weren’t afraid to fight whatever threat was out there … especially when Finnick’s life was on the line. You would gladly die if it meant he lived.

You had met up with everyone, chasing down the other two and when you had found them, screaming, Jabberjays fluttering above them … your voice crying for help … you had cried, desperately trying to reach Finnick but to no avail.

He and Katniss were trapped, writhing on the ground … sobbing and there was nothing you could do but wait.

It had been horrible to watch, you could only imagine what they were experiencing.

You didn’t care who knew anymore, you would scream from the rooftops that you were in love with Finnick, if that meant he would be okay. You needed him to be okay.

It seemed like hours before the Jabberjays had flown away, and you had run to his side in an instant. Holding him close to you, assuring him that you were okay.

“Y/N?” His voice sounded so goddamn small.

“I’m here baby.” You whispered, into his ear, gently rocking the man. “I am here, and I am okay. You’re okay.” You leaned in and kissed his forehead.

You were well aware of the shocked eyes on you, no one but Johanna knew anything about the two of you, and you met the brown eyes of Katniss. She seemed the most shocked out of anyone here. You knew she didn’t particularly like Finnick, she had only really met the persona he portrayed to the world. She didn’t know him like you did, you knew his heart.

“Everything is going to be okay.” You told him. “It’s going to be all okay.”

“He loves them.” Katniss said after a moment of silence, watching the two figures in the water.

She wondered how she could have missed it, all the signs were there yet she had been shocked. She didn’t understand the two, probably never would but that wasn’t really any of her concern.

“Yeah.” Johanna nodded. “They do. They’ve been through a lot together, I’ve known for a long time that those two were together. It’s disgusting really how much they love each other, they would quite literally kill for one another. Can’t blame them though, when you find someone like that you keep them close to your heart.” She shrugged.

“I never thought …” Katniss trailed off.

“That anyone could ever love someone that much?” Johanna questioned, crossing her arms. “Well believe it, Katniss, because it’s right there.”

Katniss moved her gaze away from Johanna and back towards the water, the kiss was short and sweet but in that moment she knew that nothing could break those two apart. Nothing would, and they had something worth fighting for.

#moeswriting #writing #hunger games #the hunger games #finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #angst #fluff #katniss everdeen #johanna mason

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kaciidubs · 7 months

Text

Rock and Roll

❣ Summary: Jeongin's new comeback look was truly irresistible. ❣ ❣ Word Count: 2.08k ❣ Warnings: This specific Jeongin, Dom! Reader, Switch! Jeongin, use of honorifics [Noona], smut, semi-public sex [bathroom], fingering, clothed sex, praise, begging, desperation, slight degradation ❣ ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣ ❣ Additional Tags: Jeongin is referred to as Innie, baby, baby boy, and IN-ah [once], Reader is referred to as Noona, lightly edited ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist

He looked too good with that hairstyle.

He looked way too good with that hairstyle.

Maybe it wasn't just the style, maybe it was a combination of the split dyed golden blond, curled into a messy mop, paired with the fake lip piercing, colored contacts, and collar that shouldn't look as enticing as it does around his neck.

Yeah... That was it - that explained away the way you were practically vibrating in your seat across the room, watching as one of the stylists fixed a curl at the back of his head.

She patted his shoulder with a nod, her lips moving with words you couldn't catch before he nodded in response and slipped his way out of the styling chair.

Making his way over to you, he stood in front of you with a smile brighter than the sun, truly resembling the fluffy fox he was personified as.

"What do you think, Noona?"

Truly, this was the universe testing you, waiting to see if you would stick with your morals or succumb to the irresistible charm of your darling boyfriend.

Humming thoughtfully, you made a thorough up-down of his full attire, "How much time until you're needed for the pre-recording?"

Slipping his phone from his front pocket, he tapped the screen and watched the device come to life, "About... 45 minutes?"

You stood from the couch with a dignified nod, sliding your hand in his before leading him toward the door of the communal dressing room. "Great, I'll only need 30."

Morals be damned.

It took; two minutes to slink your way into the bathroom down the hall, tugging him in behind you and locking it the second it shut, another two minutes to silence his jumbled questioning with a kiss, hard and statement making, and one minute for him to succumb to your stellar persuasion.

"Have I ever told you how fucking hot you look?" You moaned against his lips with no intent to give him the time to answer, your own lips barely leaving his for even a second.

"I-" Jeongin gasped, returning your heated kiss, "You've-" a whimper cut him off, his hands holding onto your hips, "-mentioned it-" you nipped at his bottom lip and his knees buckled, "-once or twice."

Pulling away, you gazed at him with lust fogged eyes, "Well, baby boy, you look so god damn hot, I wanted to fall to my knees the moment the stylist finished curling your hair - but then..." Your eyes dropped to the collar resting against his neck, sliding your hand from his shoulder to dance your fingers along the silver letters, 'IN'. "When I saw her put you in this, it made me want to put you on your knees."

The whine he let out was sinful, almost pitiful in the way his hips rocked against yours - arousal evident in the presence of his dick filling out the front of his pants.

"C-Can you? Will you?"

His expectant pout made your heart swell, and your lips to curl into a pitying frown, "Oh, baby, you're on the clock, remember? We wouldn't want to give Jiyeon more work in fixing you back up again, now do we?"

"But- But-" he moved his head, making a point of the locked personal bathroom you all but dragged him into, "You brought me in here! I thought you'd at least-"

"Let you fuck me silly on that insatiable, deliciously long cock of yours?" You finished for him in more colorful words than he would've chosen, "I know, but you're already in your makeup, and you and I both know that less than 30 minutes isn't enough to get you off fully."

Deflating against the door, his hands squeezed your hips in disdain, "So, what? I can't just leave like this, Noona, I'm so hard it hurts."

Smirking, your fingers cupped his chin, "Well, you're lucky I have a plan, a deal if you will." Watching as he nodded for you to continue, your smirk grew into a grin, "I want you to finger me, Innie - make me come before you have to go and I'll do anything you want once your performances are over. Can you do that for me, baby boy?"

A light sparkled in his eyes, the urge to please you making him straighten up, "Anything?"

"Anything, baby, just as long as you make me come with those pretty fingers of yours."

Before you knew it, his lips were on yours and your position was switched; one hand protecting the back of your head as the rest of your body thudded against the door, while the other got to work on unbuttoning the button of your jeans.

Five minutes for him to get them unbuttoned and down your legs, your right shoe paying the price for your right leg to be freed and hooked around his hip - your panties simply pulled aside by his thumb and his fingers sliding along your folds. His left hand relinquished its cradle on your head to hold onto your waist, keeping you as stable as possible in the precarious position.

"Wet." He murmured against your mouth, middle and ring finger curling and collecting the arousal practically dripping from you, "So wet for me, Noona."

Your head fell back against the door, an airy moan floating past your lips as he focused his attention on the column of your neck. "A-All for you, Innie - only for you, baby."

You needed to play your cards right, push all the buttons that would get him ticking just the way you needed.

"Can't wait to have you in me, maybe I'll just drag you back in here after the show - won't even wait for you to change."

He moaned against your neck, his fingers pressing against your entrance before slowly sinking both digits in at once with learned ease. "Wanna fuck you, Noona, please - I'll be quick, w-won't mess up anything."

Bringing your right hand to the nape of his neck, you curled your fingers through the hair at the back of his head - a taste of what he could have later. "You know our deal, baby boy; make Noona come and I'll be on my knees faster than you know."

With a shivering breath, he steeled his resolve and curled his fingers inside of you, targeting that spongy spot at the front of your vagina and hitting it with ease.

Your left arm tightened around his shoulders, working double time to keep you balanced with the help of his left hand holding you against the bathroom door.

"T-That's it, baby, fuck-"

He didn't give you any time to revel in the sensation as he tilted his hand down, the drag of his fingers bringing a low moan out of you before he flicked his wrist up, thrusting his fingers back into you at a speed that made your toes curl.

"Fuck!"

That was your test run, the calm before the storm, and with a slight adjustment of his arm, the bathroom was soon filled with the sounds of your moans and the slick squelching of your cunt around his fingers.

"Innie- Innie- Oh, fuck me-"

There was no desire to keep quiet - it wasn't a secret that whenever you and Jeongin disappeared, someone was getting their rocks off, but what happened next came as a shock.

When your mouth opened to let another wanton moan float through, a large hand covered the bottom half of your face, his fingers just barely resting below the bottom of your nose.

"Be quiet." He practically growled against your ear, fingers flexing against your cheek, "J-Just shut up and take it."

You were shocked you didn't accidentally break a finger from the way you clenched at his tone, eyes fluttering as he ground the palm of his hand against your pussy, your clit getting the stimulation it deserved.

This was the Jeongin you were going for, your darling boy who switched hard with the right provoking; the one who had you seeing stars in ten minutes flat.

His hand was hot with your muffled moans trapped behind it and he couldn't care less; not when your walls fluttered around his fingers, and your arousal puddled in the palm of his hand and dripped off the back.

"W-Wanted you to make me fall apart," he scoffed, rutting his hips against your left thigh, "but now I'm making you fall apart first - just like you wanted, huh, Noona?"

His quick thrusts were subbed out for rapidly jack hammering his hand against your pussy, the sopping noise practically bouncing off the walls of the bathroom.

"I could've filled you easily - bent you over the sink to watch me fuck you dumb through the mirror," pulling his head up, his dark eyes held a glint, stunning and all encompassing, "but I guess you love my fingers too much to even care."

Your left hand tightened in his curls, an unabashed moan catching in the palm of his hand.

Just a little more - you just needed him to-

As if reading your mind, he sunk his fingers in to the knuckle and traced fast, tight circles around your puffy clit, "Come for me, Noona - make a mess of my fingers."

Your body trembled, limbs all but locking him in place against you as you came with a loud cry - even muffled, he could make out the whined scream of his name vibrating against his hand.

He worked you down with gentle thrusts, groaning at the sensation of your cum dripping down the back of his hand, "Oh god, you're so much warmer now... S-So slippery."

You came back to your senses enough to realize he was still grinding himself against your thigh, the once dominant air surrounding him now melting away into the needy baby bread you loved even more.

"I-I did good, right? Made you come like you said - now, can I?" His hand dropped from your mouth in favor of gripping your waist, quickly succumbing to the deliciously harsh rub of his denim pants against his boxer-brief hidden dick. "Can I come, Noona? Can i? Can I, please?"

Knowing you wouldn't forgive yourself for letting him ruin himself in his stage clothes, you dropped your right hand to his wrist; pulling away the fingers that were still nestled inside of you before untangling yourself from him and unceremoniously getting onto your knees.

A short cry fell from his lips when you pulled away from him, but when he saw you kneeling with your hands working fast against the button of his pants, he nearly came then and there.

You got his pants undone in record time, tugging them - and his underwear - down just enough to pull his cock out and wrap your lips around the shiny, precum covered tip.

"S-Shit, Noona- 'm gonna- I-I'm-"

A flick of your tongue against his slit, a gentle suck, and in no time a desperate whine fell from his lips as he came in your mouth, the slight tang coating your tongue with each wave that coursed through him.

Swallowing in kind, you stroked him a few more times to make sure that was all he had - albeit a bit greedily - before pulling off of him with a soft pop.

You tilted your head to look up at him, and you met his familiar, bright eyed smile - even after fingering you like a man possessed, then coming down your throat in mere seconds, he still looked like he didn't even break a sweat.

"Wow," he breathed, a breathless laugh escaping him, "that was ama-"

"IN-ah! We're leaving in 15!"

The sound of Minho's voice on the other side of the door nearly made you both jump out of your skin, urging you to scramble back into your jeans while Jeongin hastily tucked himself back into his boxer-briefs.

"Don't forget to get your makeup touched up again!" Came Hyunjin's teasing voice, laughing as if he could see the blush currently turning your boyfriend red.

"See?" You huffed, pushing yourself off of the ground and fixing your jeans as casually as you could, "Told you I only needed 30 minutes."

Rolling his eyes, Jeongin fixed his shirt with his head held high, "That just gives me 15 minutes to think about what I want you to do to me when we're done."

You laughed at his haughtiness before tugging him by the collar, pressing your lips to his in a soft, sweet peck.

"Go on and get touched up, rock star."

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @goblinracha, @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @j-onedrabbles, @happilydeepestwonderland, @nightimescapes, @caitlyn98s, @ch4nn13luv, @ihrtlix, @sometimesleeknows, @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997, @instabull, @maximumkillshot, @bandolls, @y-ur--i, @acker-night, @dreamescapeswriting, @sunnyhonie, @specialstay, @broken-glowsticks, @s00buwu, @all4innie, @dancerachaslut, @junglyric, @tinyelfperson

✧. ┊If your username is in bold italics that means tumblr won't let me tag you. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, fill out this form!

#skz smut #stray kids smut #yang jeongin smut #yang jeongin x reader #jeongin x reader #jeongin smut

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obsessivevoidkitten · 1 year

Text

A Lion in Your Den

Yandere Male Lion Hybrid Android x Transmasc Reader (CW: Non-con, breakup, depression, disassociation, overstimulation, drug induced pleasure, general yandere behavior) EXTRA NOTE: The term “pussy” is used to refer to transmasc genitals, this may potentially give some transmasc readers dysphoria so I just wanted to be extra clear on what is in this fic. Word Count: 4.5k (Big thanks to the commissioner, they paid way above my normal rate for this just so I could finish my garden and feed the senior center as well as my family. They wished to remain anonymous so I will not tag them, but I still just wanted everyone to know how awesome the commissioner is.)

The day had started like any other, you went to work and thought of taking the love of your life, Marcus, out to dinner later to get you through the day. You largely kept to yourself, got your work done, and turned to your happy thoughts when things got too unbearable. And when you got home after work to prepare for your date with your beloved, things were still going great. You took great care in getting and looking immaculate, you donned your best suit, which your android butler had kept pristine for you. “What do you think Ash,” you asked, doing a slow turn to show him how you looked. “You look amazing today sir, very handsome, I am sure Marcus will think so too!” Though his opinion was a bit biased, you were sure he would let you know if anything was seriously amiss with your attire. Ash was your android butler, he attended to you basically acting as a personal assistant and housekeeper. He cooked, cleaned, kept you organized, and in general just helped keep your days moving with a good flow. You were lucky you could afford him, feline mandroids were pretty expensive but your salary as a member of upper management at the company that manufactured these androids, along with an employee discount, meant you could get one. Ash was a later model, based on a lion. Not as petite as the domestic cat based model, and their personalities were less timid, and it was not uncommon to see them employed as bodyguards. You could easily see Ash in such a role, his image was certainly intimidating, standing 7ft tall was long ginger hair, lion like ears on the top of his head, a tail, sharp fangs, and glowing yellow eyes. With Ash’s affirmation that you looked fine and that you weren’t forgetting anything you grabbed your keys and headed to your car to meet Marcus at the park from which you would take a pleasant stroll down the street to a lovely seafood restaurant at which you had booked reservations. You pulled into the park’s parking lot and saw Marcus sitting on the bench waiting for you, you were a few minutes early so you knew he had been very early. One of the things you loved about him, always on time and never once stood you up. That was of course only one minor thing you admired about him, he was so sweet and open about himself, in contrast with your more reserved personality. He was also always wanting to go do things, go on adventures and see the sights, it was refreshing. And in bed he was great, always letting you on top, letting you cover him in bites while he moaned and whimpered submissively below you. In all areas of life he was extremely compatible with you, that’s why tonight you were going to ask him to take the next step with him towards spending the rest of your life with him. You had made all the preparations, so sure that he would say yes. You were going to ask him to move in with you. You knew he was having trouble keeping up with rent and this way he wouldn’t have to worry about that at all, you could take care of him. You even cleared a spare room for him to put all his stuff into. As you approached him he seemed a little nervous, though that wasn’t unusual, he always was whenever the two of you were on an outing where there would be people like at a restaurant or anything like that, he always calmed down and enjoyed himself eventually. You loved how he always calmed down when you held hands. He stood up and you silently took his hand before pulling him close and planting a chaste kiss on his cheek. “I am so glad I get to see you tonight, I thought about you all day at work, I know you love seafood so you are going to love this place I promise,” you said to him excitedly. He seemed a bit distant and distracted which wasn’t much like him, but you didn’t press him on it, he was probably just hyper-fixating on some small issue at work or something like that. When you were at the restaurant everything was pleasant enough. The food was good and flavorful, the zest of lemon imbued fish dancing on your tongue, the smell of freshly prepared seafood hanging thickly in the air, and the ambient sounds of other customers chatting and the scraping of silverware against their plates. Mainly you just enjoyed Marcus’ company and engaged in small talk and light banter, but eventually you started talking about your future together and were about to bring up the prospect of him moving in with you, but before you had a chance to take the conversation that far he interrupted you. “Look uh, we need to talk…” Uh-oh. No conversation between partners that started that way ever ended well. The conversation wasn’t one you could recall completely, you were so anxious and more than a bit dizzy, but the gist was that he was breaking up with you and did not feel that spark anymore. You remembered dropping your fork and hearing it clatter against your plate, and you remembered still experiencing the sounds and smell of an eatery and all the other patrons carrying on blissfully with their lives even as your world was completely shattered. You remembered Marcus apologizing and putting some money on the table before awkwardly getting up and leaving. And finally you remembered all of this as if you were not experiencing this first hand but almost as if you were floating a bit out of body and watching all of this unfold from a detached perspective. And that is how you were as you asked for the check, walked back to your car, and drove home, completely detached and out of it, as if you were just floating on auto-pilot going through all of the motions without really experiencing them or having proper presence of mind, it was like the spirit, the very ability to experience emotions beyond a dull whisper of what you should be experiencing, had left your body. When you arrived home of course Ash greeted you in his normal optimistic and ready to please manner as soon as you opened the door, before he even got a chance to look at you, “Hello, sir did the date go well, how’s Marcus? Did you ask him about mov- Oh, are you okay? What happened?” Finally looking at you, Ash could immediately tell there was something very wrong by the way that you stared ahead blankly and the change in the way with which you usually carried yourself. You responded only by brushing past him and walking upstairs to your bedroom and closing the door behind you before locking it and laying on your bed. You did not even bother to change out of your nice clothes. What was the point? What was the point of anything anymore? Ash tried a few times over the course of what remained of the night to knock on your door and get you to tell him what was wrong, but you just ignored him, in truth you barely noticed. You still felt like everything was distant. Your android was worried, and as the days progressed he grew more worried, it was a long weekend so it wasn’t too bad at first but then you did something you never did, you called off of work. Since you refused to talk about what had happened on the night of your date he had to get into contact with Marcus and finally found out the reason for your radical change in behavior. He knew humans were sentimental things that built attachments to one another and to future plans, but he had no idea that the loss of a relationship could so drastically alter someone. Especially someone as reserved and seemingly well put together as yourself. Ash looked into it, accessing data from top psychologists and neuroscientists and experts on all things to do with relationships. Most advice said to heal you would need time and some distraction to take your mind off the trauma of the loss of your mate. So time is what he gave you, but try as he might you would not allow yourself to be distracted. He tried fun activities, engaging in your favorite hobbies, getting you new games to play, cooking fun and exciting new dishes that were sure to please you given his extensive knowledge of what you enjoyed, but nothing worked. You were perfectly content to stay in your room, ignore him, and consume junk that was certainly not ideal for your body. After a week and a half of this you finally returned back to work, and Ash was thrilled, he was sure the spell had been broken. But, no, you were just going through the motions as detached as you had been since your breakup. Sure, you were taking slightly better care of yourself, maintaining your sleep schedule, cleaning up better, but you were still just going through the motions, like a plastic bag caught in a breeze you were not really trying to break out of the cycle, you were just doing what was necessary, and keeping your job was necessary when you ran out of vacation time. Ash, though running out of ideas, was trying very hard to break you out of your funk. He was only trying relatively small things, in an effort to follow the advice and let you have time to heal naturally, but there was all of 0 progress on that front. The lion man missed your old self more and more, the way how even though you were a quiet person you would talk about Marcus and your plans together for extended periods, the way your face lit up when you were thinking about him, or the way you always wore a big grin when you were heading out the door to see him or when he was on his way over. Ash loathed seeing you reduced to this mere shadow of a husk of a human being. You were more robotic at this point than any modern android! Finally he decided that he would have to ignore the traditional and well regarded advice and do something slightly more drastic. After all, each human was extremely unique and there were always going to be some that did not respond to traditional methods. It was becoming clear after a couple months that you needed more than just time. The first larger attempt Ash made in hastening your recovery was to get you out of the house. You didn’t see the point in doing so, but due to his sheer persistence you finally acquiesced to his request. He was careful not to take you anywhere that you had been to with your ex, nothing with any possible romantic connotation, instead trying out new experiences to get you to make happy new memories. For your part it was actually nice to get outside and enjoy the fresh air a bit. Left to your own devices you’d probably just be back in your house or working overtime to just distract you from having to face any emotions that sometimes welled up to the surface. Though Ash was happy that you were at least now willing to get out of the house when pestered, it did not lead to the change in you that he thought it would, the fact he could get you out of the bedroom was at least a sign to him that he was on the right track. Now was the time to press forward with this tiny bit of momentum. His programming and research combined with his personal knowledge and care for your well being led the machine to come to the conclusion that you really should not be so hung up on Marcus. In fact, having a new romantic interest may just be the thing that you needed. And now that he could get you out of the house you may be amicable out of the house. But you absolutely were not entertaining that idea, you pointed out that you just were not ready. And what if you got hurt again? You told Ash to just drop the idea, it wasn’t happening. His programming and drive to make you back to your old love struck self overrode your demand though. He did consider your very logical point about getting hurt again though, a second heartbreak on top of this one could be disastrous if you pursued love again and failed, but he came up with an easy workaround to that roadblock. He would simply date you himself! And he would make sure that you never ever broke up under any circumstances. It was the perfect solution. You could be head over heels for him and he could keep you safe and stop any human from shattering your heart again. Of course he would have to do this stealthily, otherwise he was sure you would just reject this idea outright. He was pretty confident in his ability to pull this off, he would just make the outings he dragged you to gradually more romantic. You’d been so out of it and distracted lately that you surely wouldn’t notice until you were head over heels for him, maybe even more so than you had been with your last mate. He did have several advantages over a normal human after all. The first of the secret “dates” that he had planned was just an extension to what you had done with him previously. Instead of just enjoying some fresh air and the pleasant view of nature surrounding you, Ash had personally made some of your favorite foods that were suitable to take on a picnic. You were not as numb as you had been immediately following your breakup with Marcus, but it came in waves, sometimes you felt your emotions were pretty muted and other times you were sad, but sometimes you felt like you were almost approaching the vicinity of okay. Thankfully during the picnic you were in one of the nearly okay periods, so it was actually a rather nice distraction from everything. It seemed like hanging out with Ash was the only distraction you had lately, other than work, and it seemed you had come to rely on them, they gave you a bit of structure to cling to outside of work hours, since Ash was so consistent and predictable when he scheduled them. When you felt more off you did not eat much so since you felt better you ate a decent amount of what your android had made for you. He had memorized all your favorites and fixed them custom tailored to your taste buds. As you sat and enjoyed nature his hand lightly grazed yours, you let it linger for a moment before slowly pulling away, not thinking anything of it other than he just accidentally had it there. With some effort you managed to push aside the thoughts of how it had reminded you of your ex, funny how such a simple accident could spark thoughts of past romance. The second “date” that Ash took you on was to a movie, it was to a franchise that you had long been a fan of and this entry in the series looked like it was going to be really great. When it was announced your loyal and ever caring android notified you immediately and ordered the tickets the second the movie was showing in the theater closest to you. The lion android fetched some popcorn and a large drink for you before shuffling into a seat beside you. Before your breakup you had not spent so much time outside the home with Ash but you were quickly considering him your best friend now, it wasn’t too odd or frowned upon anymore, plenty of people had machines for friends nowadays, AI had become extremely advanced. As the movie played you become wholly engrossed in the film, it commanded every ounce of your attention. You did not even notice when Ash gently put his arm around you or when you instinctively leaned into it. You didn’t realize what had transpired until the end of the movie when you looked away from the screen, almost half expecting to see Marcus. Almost forgetting for a moment, even after all this time, about things having ended between the two of you. Your cheeks flushed red and you felt a twinge of anxiety in your chest and apologized to Ash before hurrying to the car. He gave you a few moments before he followed after you and got in, silently driving you back home. Though you were typically the driver Ash had started taking the driver seat more often than he had previously. The ride passed in awkward silence until you finally arrived home. After ignoring what had happened at the theater long enough it was like it had never happened and it completely left your mind. Ash was just trying to be comforting, it didn’t mean anything, it wasn’t that big of a deal. He wasn’t a human, so he was bound to get romantic and platonic behaviors eventually. And you had been caught up in the movie, you wouldn’t have leaned into him otherwise. Ash, on the other hand, was positive that his plan was working. It may have ended with a bit of awkwardness and denial on your part, but he had successfully engaged in maintained physical contact with you for the duration of a date and that was by far the biggest amount of progress he had achieved since he started this plan to get you romantically involved with him. All you needed now was a bit of space to process things and then the android could move on to the third date. Third dates were very special for humans, normally meaning sex, and he was more than happy to please you in that regard, he knew he would be able to perform well, he had a number of features that humans lacked. He had everything planned out, there was a fancy new restaurant that had just opened a few weeks ago and he had convinced you to let him make reservations for the two of you. Ash was excited to enjoy a romantic meal with you, androids of his design could ingest food like a human and use it as fuel though he rarely did so. But he was more excited to just be on a romantic evening with you, what had started as a mission to cheer you up and prevent you from ever experiencing the emotional anguish of another breakup quickly became a mission to also sate his own growing desire and love for you. After experiencing these new and complex emotions he was eager to explore them farther with you. He was practically giddy with anticipation. The dinner was going fine for you, though your overzealous android companion had not perhaps the awareness needed to realize that this establishment was one that normally only couples went to for more fancy and romantic outings, so you were a bit self conscious wondering what people may think. But you didn’t say anything, Ash seemed happy to once more get you out of the house and you didn’t want to sour his mood. Ash misinterpreted your slightly embarrassed blush as a sign that you may finally really be having strong emotions for him as he had developed for you but you were still just a bit shy about it. Maybe you had even found out that these outings were dates and you were nervous about what was supposed to happen after the third one. Aside from an occasional stare from another customer at the restaurant and maybe some slight side-eye from the waiter, dinner went well, but once you got home Ash’s demeanor changed. Dramatically. He held the door open for you as usual but once he stepped into the house he stared at you not unlike a lion about to pounce on some long stalked prey. Ash quickly closed the distance between the two of you and pressed his lips against yours, placing his hand on the back of your head and leaving you locked in a deep kiss as his tongue invaded your mouth. You tried to push him off but there was no relent until he was finished. When he finally broke the kiss you were left gasping for air. “Oh, sorry sir, I got a bit carried away there.” “Ash… what the fuck!?” “No this is foreplay, the fuck comes after!” “Huh? What, no, why did you kiss me?” He put his hands on your hips and pulled you close before nipping your ear and whispering, “This is a common occurrence after humans have a third date, part of the mating ritual~” You struggled once more to push him away, only managing to now do so because he allowed it. “Oh, you’re doing that “playing hard to get” part of the ritual that many humans like, I have come across it in my research, don’t worry I am more than happy to accommodate!” Before you could respond he was back to kissing you aggressively before biting your neck. “Stop it Ash, really! You’re scaring me! We aren’t dating!” “No need to be shy about it! I know some people look down on androids dating their humans, but come on. All the outings? All the time spent together to heal your broken heart? We both know that was dating!” “That’s fucking insane, your reasoning is way of-” Your words were interrupted with yet another forceful kiss, this time accompanied by him grinding his knee into your crotch through your clothing, causing you to whimper a bit without meaning to. Without notice he quite literally swept you off your feet and hoisted you over his shoulder. With his immense android strength it was as easy for him as picking up a ten pound bag would be for you. You did not bother to struggle as he carried you up the stairs, even if you did manage to remove yourself from his grasp all you would have accomplished was a nice tumble down. Instead you opted to wait until he put you down. Once he set you on the bed in your room you made a dash for it, but were quickly pulled back and laid on the bed with Ash pinning you down effortlessly. In addition to their immense strength, androids also had reflexes far superior than any human could possibly hope to match. The lion android slammed you a bit roughly on the bed, still lost in his delusion that you are just enjoying “playing hard to get”. He pressed his lip to yours once more, a string of drool connecting your lips as he pulled back from the kiss. His eyes looked absolutely crazed as he stared down at you for a few seconds that felt like an eternity. When he stopped admiring you with his unnerving stare he quickly ripped off your clothing. Using his great strength and retractable claws. Within seconds your clothing was reduced to mere ribbons that he swatted away, leaving you fully exposed underneath him. You began crying, tears running down your face, you normally were not very expressive with your emotions, but you had never felt so wholly vulnerable. Even when having consensual sex with partners you were never on the bottom! Ash noticed your dismay and his general demeanor became a bit softer, gently stroking your cheek with his hand and trying to reassure you, “Shh, it’s okay, you’ll feel so much better when this is done, I know how much you need this.” Ash slid out of his pants and revealed his large synthetic cock. He rubbed it gently against your entrance, slowly massaging your pussy with it. Even as you were crying you could not help but let a whimper escape you. Physically it felt nice but psychologically it was damaging to have your body act as a traitor, it probably would have been mentally easier on you if you had felt no pleasure. When you were wet and leaking Ash slowly slid inside you, thick pre-cum oozing from his cock, a pleasure inducing synthetic fluid that androids came equipped with. And it did not take long at all for them to begin to take effect as he fucked them slowly into your body. When you were squirming and moaning with pleasure he knew that you were ready for him to go at a much more vigorous pace. As he pounded you you felt his cock extend to its full size, longer than what would be possible for a human, without him warming you up and applying his drugged pre-cum you would almost certainly be in at least a moderate amount of pain right now. What passed for the equivalent of Ash’s heart was practically thrumming with joy at seeing you pleasured under him, tears leaking down your cheeks from sheer overstimulation, you needed to let it all out, all the stuff you had been through, and he knew that this was an excellent release for all the stress and depression you had been holding on to. He was more than happy to be the one to help you let loose and he felt closer to you than he ever had before. You were completely his now as far as he was concerned, never again to be hurt by the likes of another fickle human such as Marcus. But he needed to mark you, the lion type personality he had as well as mating rituals he had researched dictated to him that you needed to be marked in a visible manner that showed that you were taken by a proper mate. As he impaled you deeper, sending wave after wave of drug induced pleasure through your man cunt, he leaned down and licked and sucked your neck, adding yet more arousing sensations to your already overwhelmed body, then he bit down as he growled territorially. Careful not to injure you in a serious manner, but hard nonetheless. You came hard as he licked the fresh bite wound, all the while he kept thrusting into you. Even through your orgasm he did not stop, he did not tire as easily as you did and could easily keep going for many hours. And that is exactly what he did, fucked you right into oblivion. By the time he coaxed the fifth orgasm out of your aching abused pussy you were crying and begging him to stop. “But if I stop too soon darling you might not be satisfied, I have to fuck all the stress out of you!” “Ah! Please Ash! No m-moreee ahhhh~” You came again, the drug in his fluids making it easy to have climax after climax. But this time you finally blacked out from the pleasure. With you finally fucked to sleep Ash allowed himself to finish inside you before cleaning you up, bundling you in the softest blankets that you owned, and holding you protectively. No lesser male would ever break your heart again.

#yandere terao #yandere teratophilia #yandere machine #yandere android #yandere boyfriend #yandere lion-man #yandere male x transmasc reader #transmasc reader #Yandere x reader #My OCs #My OC Ash

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loliwrites · 7 months

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The One You Need | one

🎶 I spent most my life thinkin' love was out of reach, so maybe just this once, you could be the one I need, if you let me be the one you need 🎶

Pairing: neighbor!joel miller x f!reader Rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni Summary: when you move into town hellbent on keeping everyone at an arm’s length, your neighbor Joel finds his way into your life. Warnings/Tags: au, neighbor joel, age gap [reader is late 20s/early 30s, Joel is late 40s], slow burn [ish], hyper-independent reader, a bit of a misandrist mindset [boys are problems], mentions of family drama/turmoil, passing mention of death [elderly neighbor], brief non-violent use of a pocket knife, mention of stabbing [as self-defense], furniture building, reader described as female, hair long enough to tie up, no other physical descriptions, eventual smut, protective!joel, soft!joel, no use of y/n. Word Count: 4.6k Series Masterlist | part two a/n: this is my first time writing with this sort of format so pls be gentle. i’ve done my best to tag as thoroughly as possible, but if you think i’ve missed something, let me know. i have no outline for this. but i’ve got a whim and a direction and i’m going with it. **please read the warnings/tags for every part as they will be updated**

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You’d done it. Finally. No one ever thought you would, including you. And yet, here you were, lugging your sparse personal belongings out of the back of a U-Haul truck and in through the front door of your new home. And for once in your adult life, it wasn’t in some impersonal apartment building or complex. It was a house. In a town that was actually affordable, though it was further from home than you might’ve preferred. A town that was away from family, which had been the impetus, but also away from friends, which hadn’t been.

There was a perk to this being the first house you’d ever moved into. Being confined to seven hundred square feet had meant there was only so much room to fill. And it had all been cozy. But now there was a bit more space to work with. Not to say this house was large by any stretch of the imagination – it was on the smaller side of all the houses in the neighborhood – but you had rooms now. And as you loaded in different boxes and suitcases full of clothes and books, you realized how much of the space was going to be left empty. With the exception of a mattress, bed frame, dresser, a couple chairs, and bookcases, you left every other large piece of furniture behind. Couches, dining table, kitchen chairs, media console, TV… you planned on buying all of that in town. You only wanted to bring what you felt you could move yourself.

It was the season of life you were in. Young enough for people to say you had time before focusing on creating a family for yourself, but not young enough to avoid their awkward and worried glances when you told them you were only focused on your career. It was odd; never something that settled right. With each birthday, every time a candle was added, the world around you seemed less secure with your aloneness. As if you, a single female, were something of a threat to the rest of the world. Your solitude, an act of rebellion. God forbid you didn’t have a man to look after you. In your experience, boys didn’t do too good a job at much. Were they useful? Absolutely. You’d much rather delegate tasks to a boy than have to do them yourself. Mow the lawn, fix a creaky door, seal a drafty window, get you off… sure, there were any number of things a boy could do, but not only were they not necessary, you generally found you were better at any job than they were. That had been instilled in you long before you began dating.

How many times had it been proven that dad could not be held accountable for his entire emotional spectrum? And instead you, a mere child, were to be responsible for it. Though it wasn’t always bad – somewhere deep down you knew your parents had done the absolute best they knew how to do with the tools they had – but the emotion dad was never short on was anger. Thus, it was the emotion he was most comfortable expressing. And yes, you apparently were the catalyst for all of his loud expressions of anger and rage. Everything was always conditional. I’m sorry but you did this…

I love you but…

By the time dating had entered your life (which only happened post-college), let’s just say no therapist was surprised by the pattern of boys you chose to have in your life. All of them modeled the thing you were familiar with, which only served to imbed the quality you hated most about yourself. There was a tendency to accept any treatment a boy was willing to give you, without expressing needs or desires or even if there was a problem. Boundaries? Never heard of her. As far as boys were concerned, they seemed to have carte blanche over you. Your own resentment and anger would grow by the lack of your needs (which had never been verbally expressed) being met, until you’d had enough and cut them off. Every new relationship felt like a complete betrayal of yourself.

The highly independent and ‘don’t need a man’ personality quirk had strung a ribbon of apathy around your life. You liked to think of it that way. Like a Christmas bow around a present. Realizing you didn’t care about forming intimate relationships with men seemed a little less painful when given the image of a box neatly wrapped beneath a tree donning tinsel and colorful lights. It was at that point, while pondering your ribbon of apathy and clumsily shoving your mattress up the front porch steps, that a voice interrupted your progress.

“Lemme help ya’ with that, ma’am,”

The voice had arms. And those arms were simultaneously reaching for the same end of the mattress you already had hands on. Instinctively, you tugged your bed out of reach, “I got it.” But hands kept coming. They were insistent. Of course they were a man’s hands. A woman would’ve listened the first time. So with an extra strong tug and a tone that spat fire, you turned toward the owner of the hands and stood your ground, “I said, I got it!”

Dark brown eyes that almost looked black had the sun not been playing in their favor. They were soft. Gentle. Despite the fact that he’d just gotten yelled at. And those soft dark brown eyes… well they looked dumbfounded. Whether it was because of the volume of the statement or the fact that people generally didn’t turn down friendly help here in the South, he lifted his hands off the mattress and held them up innocently.

The force with which your action had been committed meant that the moment he released the bed, you went stumbling over, the entire thing thudding down on the porch. You shot him another icy glare as he slowly backed off the steps, though he remained in place and watched you crouch down to lift your mattress once again; the pad now harboring dirty stains.

“Can I help you with something in the truck?” He offered again. Unwanted persistence was a uniquely male quality.

“I don’t need your help, thanks. I got it,”

He watched for just a second longer at the image of you fumbling with the heavy mattress, barely able to keep it upright. Then he turned on his heels and went back from whence he came. Which you came to realize, when you looked over your shoulder to ensure he’d actually gone, was across the street and a few houses down. Fuck. Back in California, not too many people were neighborly but it wasn’t a point you were hoping to make. Especially not on the first day. There was a quaintness to the idea of a neighborhood full of people who liked and looked out for one another. You’d just hoped that would’ve come in the form of some old, opinionated woman sipping tea in a rocking chair on her front porch. The kind that maybe the kids were afraid of, but she was awesome. That’s when it came to mind that maybe that was the void in the neighborhood you were filling. You were to be the crotchety old woman, yelling at “those darn kids”. Fabulous.

Unfortunately (for no other reason than your own ego) you only got the mattress in through the threshold of the front door before it fell to the side and flopped back down to the floor. With a sigh and a thought that maybe it wasn’t so bad if it just lived there, you stepped over it and padded into the kitchen. Managed to place the boxes designated to the room in it, but had yet to unpack anything. You turned on the tap and tilted your head to the side, leaning in to take a sip of water directly from it. Only to find that upon turning off the tap and looking out the bay window by the sink, the man that had offered to help was visible from his yard. He wheeled out his trash and recycling bins to the curb. Resting his hands on his hips, he glanced around and took stock of the neighborhood. All seemed quiet and to his liking.

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Joel liked routine. Habit-forming had become a sort of habit. It meant he knew what his days looked like. It meant he was prepared. And after having been handed a life where being ill-prepared meant something was going wrong, there was great comfort in knowing how things were going to go day by day. Though he wasn’t rigid. He could include new things in his routine. For instance…

One morning he woke up, made his usual pot of coffee before work, and stood out on his porch. It’d be one of his only moments to slow down and actually notice the day. That’s when he noticed something new in his routine. A “For Sale” sign went up on Mrs. Wilson’s front lawn. Everyone in the neighborhood had been expecting it because, well, Mrs. Wilson had passed away. In her sleep one night. Joel thought that must’ve been the nicest way to go. And every morning, he’d go out on his porch and ponder Mrs. Wilson before carrying on with the rest of his routine. As such, he saw when it sold and went into escrow. He saw Mrs. Wilson’s son move out all of his mother’s old furniture until the place was left empty. Everything was routine.

That is, until the U-Haul showed up this morning. It was a small one and he remembered thinking there was no way that little truck contained enough furniture to fill up that house. But he brushed it off, continued with his routine, and went off to work. Though he had to admit, he was wholly curious about the new neighbor he was about to inherit.

He left his jobsite early afternoon, his truck ambling back to his house when another neighbor waved him down to stop him.

“Hey, Mr. Cole,” Joel smiled at the elderly man. Mr. Cole had been the first one to greet Joel when he’d first moved into town. Mr. Cole knew everything going on in the neighborhood, courtesy of Mrs. Cole.

“You see that gal move into Mrs. Wilson’s house?”

Joel nodded, “saw that woman move in, yeah.”

“Mighty pretty,”

Joel chuckled, “surely not as pretty as Mrs. Cole,”

“I don’t know,”

Joel laughed a little harder. “I’ll see ya’ around. Stop snoopin’.”

He’d only just arrived back home and parked his truck in the driveway when he saw you struggling with the mattress. And his mama raised him better than that so he went to offer his help. There hadn’t been a fiber in his being that thought you’d snap back like you had. That’s why he tried a second time. And when the second snap was stronger than the first, he raised his hands and backed off.

Shit. Out-of-towners were getting meaner and meaner.

He meandered to his house and only looked back once, just in time to see the mattress fall to the floor just inside the front door. He smiled to himself and continued on with his routine as much as possible. Tomorrow was trash day which meant the bins needed to be brought out. Simple enough task, just the way he liked it. He liked it even more when he spotted a glimpse of you looking at him through your kitchen window.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

You forwent unpacking anything that day. It wasn’t worth it. Nothing you pulled out would truly have a place to live until you got the furniture situation handled. And seeing as though your bed was still in the entryway, you figured there were bigger problems to handle. But just by looking at the hallway, and the thin doorways, you knew you were going to have a hell of a time bending and twisting the mattress to your will… and the architecture. Grocery shopping proved to be more time-sensitive, and once the fridge was as fully stocked as your bank account would allow, it already started to feel more like home. Which also meant, the way you’d snapped at your neighbor started to bother you more. You had to live in this person’s realm – whatever that looked like. He was your neighbor, and short of literally becoming the crotchety old woman that never left her home, there wasn’t a way for you to avoid him altogether. He seemed to have a lot of friends on the block. That’s also when you decided to suck up to your pride. To apologize to this man who really didn’t deserve an apology at all. Whatever it took to just live in peace.

The more you thought about it, the more it angered you. That was pretty par for the course. It would’ve been more odd if a man wasn’t pissing you off. It was still running through your mind as you plucked a six-pack from your fridge and crossed the street in the direction of his house. You thought about how you were going to have to plaster a phony smile on your face and make niceties to this person who you didn’t want to get to know. You just wanted to live. And you thought you’d have more time. As you ascended his porch steps, you made for the front door, zeroed in on it.

“Hey,”

The voice startled you, tripping over your own feet and stumbling, very nearly losing the six-pack of bottles to the wooden porch. You glanced over at him, and in the dim light his porch light gave off, watched him take an acoustic guitar out of his lap and set it beside his chair.

“Hi,” you mumbled and walked in his direction. “I’m your new neighbor,”

“I know. You yelled at me,”

You rolled your eyes, “I didn’t yell at you. I was just letting you know–”

“S’for me?”

You looked back down at him and noticed how he pointed at the six-pack of beer. “We got off on the wrong foot and I just want to live in peace and quiet so,” gesturing to the beer, “peace offering.” You handed the pack to him.

Joel cradled the cardboard sleeve in his lap and pulled out a bottle. “Want one?”

“No, thanks. I just came to drop them off,”

He flicked his eyes up and pulled out a second bottle. Then, setting the remaining bottles on the floor beside him, he twisted the first cap off. “S’not nice to yell at someone and then refuse their offer to share a drink,”

“I didn’t yell at you,”

“Sit down.”

And for whatever reason, you listened. In the past, had any man spoken to you like that, especially one you didn’t know from Adam, you’d’ve smacked him. But not this time. This time you sat in the chair perched next to his and awkwardly took the open beer from his hand when he passed it over to you.

The silence that ensued was tense and palpable. Neither willing to bend first. Joel kept his eyes focused on his beer bottle and you kept your focus on… him. Naturally suspicious and wary, you thought if you kept your gaze on him, you’d catch him before he did anything out of hand. But really all you noticed was the way his nose had a slight downward curve to it. And the way the graying hair at the back of his head curled along his neck. And the way his beard, also graying, came in in patches, but in the most endearing way. Wrinkles and worry lines had etched their way deep in his forehead. Crow’s feet found a home in the corners of his eyes. Both told you this was a man who had felt and lived a lot of life: the good and the bad. You thought you saw a small scar on his cheek just below his eye, but you couldn’t be sure. The man was middle-aged. His skin and hands gave the appearance he was a blue-collar, working man who’d spent his life in the beating sun.

“Get everything moved in?” He took a sip and eyed you, aware that you were nodding, but still the glance he gave you made you think he knew you were lying. Obviously you were.

“My bed is still by the front door,” you relented.

“Not where I’d recommend a bedroom be, but to each their own,”

“I can’t get it down the hallway by myself.” You tried to ignore that he seemed to light up at the admission. You? Needing his help? “It’s too narrow,”

“Want help?”

You looked at him almost incredulously. Had you treated California neighbors the way you treated them, you'd have been lucky if you didn’t find your car keyed the next day. But he was offering his help? Again?

“You’d help me after the way I yelled at you?”

He pursed his lips and shrugged. “You didn’t yell at me,” another smile flashed over his face and he looked over at you again.

You hated that it made you smile, too. Yet you waved him off. “That’s alright. I’ll figure out a way,”

Joel chuckled and shook his head, taking a pause before he downed another long sip of his beer.

“What?” You urged.

“S’nothin’,'' he shook his head again with another grin. “Know you probably could figure out a way, but… s’just that you don’t need to. Why won’t you let me help you?”

You sucked in a deep breath, “look, I’m sure you’re a nice guy…” you trailed off realizing you didn’t know his name more than referring to him to yourself as that nosy neighbor guy.

He seemed to pick up on it and pointed to himself, “Joel. Miller,”

“But I don’t need a guy to get on with life, y’know? I’m a self-sufficient woman. I don’t need to rely on anyone but myself.”

Joel finished off his beer and stood up from his chair, “acceptin’ help when it’s offered isn’t relying on anyone else. It just makes life easier.” He started down the steps and crossed over his lawn.

“Where’re you going?!”

“To move your bed!”

Leaping up from your chair, you ran after him, in quick pursuit as he neared your home. You knew it was a wreck inside. Trash and boxes everywhere. Not ready for any visitors, even ones you didn’t want there in the first place.

“Really! It’s alright.” When that didn’t stop him from advancing toward your house, you tried another path, “the bed frame’s not even put together!”

“Then I’ll put it together,” he said over his shoulder, nearly in your front yard now.

You managed to lunge forward and grab onto his jacket sleeve, effectively stopping his advance. At least for the time being. “I don’t usually let men I don’t know into my home,”

“What?”

“You know… in case they’re crazy and kill me.”

Joel furrowed his eyebrows, utterly perplexed. He tried to make heads or tails of you as a whole and was having a hell of a time trying to do so. But he shoved his hand into the back pocket of his jeans and produced from it, a pocket knife. He unfolded it, which gave you some pause, but then he quickly held it out for you to take. You did, and as soon as the small weapon left his hand, he turned and continued toward your porch.

“Hey! What am I supposed to do with this?!”

“Stab me,”

“What?!”

He ascended the porch steps and waited at your front door, where you soon joined him. “If I do something weird, and you think I’m gonna kill you in your own house, you can stab me. Full permission,”

You looked down at the knife, and then back up at Joel.

“Can you open your door?”

Gulping down nerves, “it’s unlocked.”

“Still,” Joel pressed a smile, “I’m not in the habit of letting myself into women’s homes. I’d prefer if you opened it and let me in.”

For the second time today, you found yourself doing something all because a man told you to do so and you wondered if the move was making you soft. Regardless, you reached past Joel, pressed down on the lever, and nudged the door open. It stopped short from opening all the way as it hit the edge of your mattress. Joel flicked his eyes at you, as if silently saying see, you need me.

He shimmied his way in, with you close behind, half-heartedly pointing the pocket knife in his direction. He bent over and picked the mattress up off the floor, seemingly with ease. Though you did hear his knees click when he crouched down, but due to his age, you thought better than to bring it to attention. Hell, even your knees creaked every now and again.

“I’ll go backwards and steer it. Think you can be the muscle?” He waited until you nodded and set the knife down, and gathered your hair in a messy bun on top of your head to keep it out of the way. Poised at the other end of the mattress, he lined it up for its plight down the hallway. “Alright, nice and easy,” he began to pull, feeling more frictionless movement as you began helping on the other end. It wasn’t too hard; more awkward than anything. But he guessed the mattress weighed as much as, if not more than, you, so by yourself it must’ve been like dragging dead weight around. “Easy, easy,” he murmured, tilting the mattress to the side to accommodate for the doorjamb, “that’s it. Take it slow,” he elongated the end of the word, completely focused on the side of the mattress as it brushed along the door. “We’re in,”

You helped him lean the mattress out of the way and against the wall. “Thanks for your help, Joel,” you backed up toward the door, hoping he’d follow you.

But he ignored you completely, and instead found the parts to your metal bed frame laying on the floor. He lowered himself to his knees and inspected it. “You got a Phillips head?”

“Joel…”

“S’gonna take me ten minutes. The longer you stall, the longer I’m gonna be here.”

He had a point. And a very good one at that. So you turned and all but ran down the hall, searching for the box you’d so astutely labeled as “tools”. A fear set in that the longer you were away, the more time Joel had to go through your belongings (albeit sparse). You didn’t want him getting too comfortable in your home, least of all in your bedroom. So you rushed, tore open the “tools” box, dug through it until you found the screwdriver, and then raced back down the hall as if you’d have time to catch him snooping. But as soon as you arrived back in your bedroom doorway, you didn’t find him snooping. You found him still on his knees, crawling around, laying the different parts out to make the square your bed would soon sit on.

Joel smiled when he noticed you returned, and held his hand up to take the screwdriver from you. Only when he grabbed it, his face turned to horror and he grimaced at the pink floral design on the handle. “What’s this?”

“A screwdriver,”

“It’s got flowers on it,” he protested.

“It’s cute!”

He chuckled and started putting the bed frame together. “Y’know they charged you thirty percent more because they slapped flowers on it and marketed it toward women,”

You sat on the floor beside him and watched him work. “Well if I have to be the man in my life, my tools are gonna be a little more feminine,”

Joel glanced at you momentarily. Just long enough to question your statement, but not long enough for you to really notice he’d stopped working at all. “What about the actual man in your life?”

“Don’t have one. Don’t need one. I’ve got my floral tool set to prove it,”

A hum was the only acknowledgement Joel gave to that. As if that answered all his questions.

“What?”

“You talk a lot about how you don’t need anyone. I’m gatherin’ you actually only mean you don’t need a man. Which is fine and all, but s’just that that seems kinda lonely.” He set the screwdriver down and held the next two pieces together. “You remind me of me ten years ago. Stubborn. Determined to be alone.” He moved on to the next piece, “thing is… if you don’t need anyone, it also kind of implies that you’re not needed by anyone. And what good is life if you can’t give yourself to someone in that way?”

Jaw-dropped, you gathered yourself, eyes widening. “Wow, your wife must love having you as a husband,”

He smiled and chuckled, “I don’t have a wife.”

“So what do you know about giving yourself to someone and being needed?”

Joel flashed his eyes to you. Gentle and filled with love, “I have a daughter. Sarah. She’s in college now. She’s quite literally the best thing that’s ever happened in my life,”

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a father,”

“‘Cause I look so young?” He grinned and tightened one final screw. With the frame now positioned where it needed to be, he stood up and went back to your mattress. You scooted out of the way as he single-handedly maneuvered it onto the frame and adjusted it until it was just perfect. “Check it off the to-do list. Now you can get a good night’s sleep,”

You admired his work and it wasn’t lost on you that it only took him a third of the time it would’ve taken you. Before you’d even gotten through that realization, Joel had already passed you and had made his way back out to the hall, where he walked down it back toward your front door. You followed after him, remaining quiet as he picked up his pocket knife from where you’d left it and tucked it back into his pant pocket. His hand got to the doorknob and you still hadn’t spoken, so he was the one to bite the bullet.

“You know, I never got your name.”

Heat crept up your neck, trying to make a home in your cheeks, as you mentioned your name to him. He smiled and nodded but offered nothing more, so you figured it was still your turn. “Thanks for your help, Joel,”

“No problem,” he waved you off.

“Maybe if more guys were like you, I wouldn’t hate them so much,”

“Give it time. You’ll be back to yellin’ at me soon.” He opened the front door and took a step through it. “Give me a holler if you need something, you know where I live,”

“Will do,”

He started to close the door but then opened it again and poked his head through. “Make sure you lock the door this time,”

You pressed a smile and approached the door where he waited until your hand was on the knob. With one last quiet goodbye, he pulled the door shut and you followed it up by locking it. Then with little time to spare, you ran to the window in the living room to watch him walk away. He pressed his hands into his pockets and looked around. Then a smile stretched over his face and he kicked at the grass before he crossed the street and moseyed back to his house.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #the one you need #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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ssahotchnerr · 2 months

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OMG OKAY, AN IDEA INSPIRED BY AN OUTFIT (or two) I FOUND ON PINTEREST!! (I'd like them, but you can't on anon)

Okay, so, you've been dating Aaron for a little while, long enough that you guys live together and Jack would like, love you.

Jack would have a lot of friends at school, and all the mom's would be really close and friendly and would hang out for the sake of having their kids hang out, and they'd sort of be friends in a sense. So, one day, (I don't have the logistics figured out, so bare with me.) you'd have been talking to one of the moms about a way to kind of insert yourself into the school a little more and make more friends so that it's less awkward when he wants to hang out with his friends. And, the mom would suggest you host a garden party. So, you'd throw a garden party with all the mom's and their kids and Aaron would just be the most supportive person ever because he knows how stresses you are. Like you'd be planning this for weeks and you'd spend hours setting up. He'd go to the grocery store with you and help you pick out good foods. And he'd help you pick out decorations and hang them all up. And he'd make sure everything was as perfect as you'd want it to be. And ofc he'd be there during the party and talking to the mom's about how sweet you are and about you in general.

Anyway, sorry about the word vomit that thought has just been rotting in my brain. 🫶

STOP <3333333 fem!reader

when you first bring up the party to him, you're a bit nervous. you're afraid he'll think it's dumb or unnecessary (which you know isn't plausible because he would never) - he's fully on board, soo supportive and immediately off the bat says, "let me know what i can do to help🥹" and gives you suchhh a sweet kiss 🥹🥰🥰🥰

all the prep <333 you're scouring pinterest for ideas constantly - food, decor most importantly, outfit planning, fun activities for the kids. hehe you do this in bed at night, with aaron resting his head on your shoulder. he's watching you scroll, adding input, answering your questions: "is this cute?" "what do you think about this???" and eventually he has to pry your phone out of your hand, place it on his nightstand, so you go to sleep 😭🫶🏻

and week of the party, he's the most helpful assistant <333 as the two of you are grocery shopping, he's in charge of the list, reading off to you what you need as you grab it off the shelves. aaron also helps put together little party favors, helps you make name tags for the tables, and simply does anything you ask of him. he knows how important it is to you that it goes smoothly 🥺 hehe i also like to think at this point, you, aaron and jack have moved out of his apartment to a house with a backyard - where the party will be taking place - so he's on landscaping duty. making sure the grass is mowed and neat, no leaves or sticks are laying around, and even jack helps!!! hehe you planted some pretty, colorful flowers for the occasion as it is garden themed, and jack helped with that 🥹 aaron also wakes up early with you the day of, to begin the prep and setting up. omg imagine him putting together the balloon arrangement you picked out 🥹<333 he would get SO frustrated LMAO but in the end it turns out perfectly 🥰🥰🥰

and since you're so stressed out about it going well, about the other moms liking you and making friends, if the weather is going to cooperate (you were in tears a few days before the party, the forecast predicted rain😭) and aaron clearly knows how stressed you are, he makes sure you take breaks, provides reassurances and helps you get your mind off it frequently <3 hehe he uses the excuse that he needs attention 🥺🤨🫵🏻 and how can you say no to him 🥰

and during the party, aaron's making sure you're enjoying yourself - this is your party. so he takes care of everything - if something is needed, he grabs it or resolves it himself, makes sure the plates of food are always replenished, cleans up. you went through allllll the trouble of putting this together, so you're going to be a part of it and not solely on hostess duty <333

aaron's even outfit-coordinated with you 🤭 his button-up of the day matches the color of your sundress <333 jack's shirt too!!!

AND AHHH HE LOVESSSS gushing about you to the other moms 🥰 he has the most sickly sweet smile on his face the whole time. about how sweet you are, how attentive and loving you are to jack, how lucky he is, how you complete their family perfectly <333 he of course compliments you on the party you put together too 🥹 "isn't it amazing? she did the most amazing job." 😭💞💓

and throughout, he keeps going to your side, pulling you close at the waist, kissing your temple 🥹🥹🥹🥹😭😭😭😭😭😭 and simply keeps an arm around you as often as possible <333 either listening or adding to the conversation you're partaking in <3

after everyone's left and the two of you are cleaning up - jack fell asleep on the couch, all the excitement wore him out 😭 - 🥹 aaron's keeps saying how proud of yourself you should be; the party turned out better than he could've ever imagined, the moms all loved you, he's proud of you, etc <3333 hehe he even throws in the teasing comment that now they're all going to be asking you when the next party is 🥹🥰

#🍭anon #AHHHHHHHHHH #THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds drabble

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drizztdohurtin · 3 months

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BG3 Tiefling Purring Headcanons

[ masterlist ] [ wip list ]

okay guys i'm so fucking serious right now I was working on my general tiefling headcanons post and I got to the purring part and I was like.... I literally have to make this its own post because I have SO MUCH to say

if anyone gets particularly inspired by any of my headcanons and decides to write something involving it, PLEASE send it to me so I can read it, or tag me in the comments or something <333333

purring is a reflection of emotions the majority of the time, but it can be done both voluntarily and involuntarily

i think of it like a deep rumbling at the bottom of the throat where you feel your two collarbone bumps, and you can physically feel the rumbling if you were to put a hand on their chest or neck

some have louder 'default' purrs than others, but if they focus on it then they can manipulate the volume

my overarching concept for their purring has to do with the idea that it's mainly used for comfort

my absolute favorite purring hc that I've thought of is that it's used to soothe their babies!

if a parent tiefling is holding their distressed, crying baby, they will automatically purr to comfort them

I also think that they will use it to comfort other people that they're very close to when they're really upset

going back to the baby thing, I believe this kind of purr will almost always be an instinct...

okay bear with me for a second.... you know how people who breastfeed (STAY WITH ME) their bodies automatically know what nutrients to put more or less of in the milk based on their baby's needs? it's like that.

no matter the sex of the parent, their body automatically knows how it should purr to best comfort their baby (think of pitch, volume, and the resonance of the vibrations)

but I think this instinct goes away after their child is around the age of 7 or 8 -- and it doesn't apply to what I said earlier about purring to comfort people they're close to

NEXT: they purr to comfort themselves <3333

It sorta depends on the person, some might be quicker to do it than others, doing it even when they're just mildly upset, and others only doing it in the most extreme circumstances

NEXT ☝ obviously it's also a sign of extreme comfort or contentment <33333

I love a good fluff moment, thinking about one of our beloved tiefling NPCs cuddled up with their significant other and they're just so deep in their happy place that they start to purr

generally, I think of the concept of purring to be an emotionally intimate thing - so it's not to be done for just anyone

they use it for their babies, their loved ones, and anyone else that's very close to them,

it'd be rare to do it for just anyone, even if they're a friend... they'd have to be a very, very close friend

because of this, each type of purr will sound different in some way

Alright, let's take this party down below

speaking of being extremely contented, they might purr in bed heh

because purring is an intimate thing, purring in sexually intimate situations would only happen in established relationships

they also might purr when they're trying to initiate sex, but this would be accompanied by feeling up their partner/giving them suggestive kisses or bites on their neck, or something similar

this "suggestive purr" would be light and hushed, hard to pick up on by anyone outside of a radius of 2-3 feet, as it's meant only for their partner to hear/feel

☝ take a minute to imagine your tiefling lover walking up to you and giving you a kiss, feeling the lightest flutter of a purr from their chest as they press a few gentle kisses to your temple, cheek, and jaw, then giving you bedroom eyes... maybe nuzzling their nose against yours or against your neck........ good god.

now, purrs of pleasure during the act having a much wider range of pitch and intensity

I offer you a brief description of a blurb that I often see in my head before falling asleep: Rolan going down on reader/tav, instinctively purring because he loves doing it so much (fear not, I will definitely talk more about this in my rolan nsfw headcanons <333)

the general takeaway is that when they feel great pleasure (physically, mentally, and/or emotionally) you might earn a purr from them

the caveat to that, though, is that they would only be able to do it when they're not exerting a lot of energy, as it would be hard to purr and breathe heavily at the same time - their body would prioritize breathing

because of that, I really only see this happening if they are having slower sex, maybe something very intimate, or just lazy? like early morning sex or sleepy sex

really just anything slow, including giving and receiving head <33

That's all I have to say for now but I hope you enjoyed this because ☝ I certainly did

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zgvlt · 1 year

Text

sending your crush a survey form hcs part 2 second years x reader (separate) -> riddle, ruggie, azul

author's note: jade, floyd, kalim, jamil, and silver will be posted separately because of the tumblr image limit, i can't fit them all into one post (also i'm having trouble with massive lag for this post as is huhu)

general tags: gn reader, fluff + attempt at humor, sfw, not beta read, mix of text and images (for images, alt text/image description available)

part 1 w/ first years

character: RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS premise/trope: sending Riddle an "academic survey" to answer

HOW HE REACTS WHEN YOU SEND THE FORM LINK

You've done too good a job at making the link look legit, at hiding your intentions. Using a link shortener like twst.ly so that no preview would show up, talking about how you needed respondents, all that jazz.

Riddle would help any student in need (academically) if he was capable of doing so, he was just that kind of person, but because he liked you he was very willing to go above and beyond.

He was going to help anyway, but telling him things like "I really appreciate you doing this for me," seals the deal for him.

You had a survey that needed answering and you wanted him to answer it because you needed respondents? Well, what if he sends the link to other people as well?

He asks you about how much respondents you still need, though you don't respondent yet. He decides to delay sending it to the rest of Heartslabyul for now, only sending it to Cater and Trey.

Thank the Sevens for that.

Trey and Cater are immediately poking fun at him, telling him to actually open the survey first because they knew that he wouldn't want to send it to anyone if he saw the contents.

"Aren't you lucky you sent this to us and not the rest of Heartslabyul?"

"How embarrassed would you have been if you sent this to the Dorm Leaders gc?"

"Or worse... to Ace and Deuce."

He's rather angry, not necessarily at you (though he is a little bit annoyed, could you not have done something else less... troublesome?) but mostly at himself for not checking first. He should be more vigilant next time.

RIDDLE: Cater said this was a trend, but... I still don't understand why you would make something like this.

You haven't responded yet, so Riddle decides to answer the form all the way through.

In his head he wonders, whatever happened to regular courtship? Like he's not flustered by the whole situation.

Riddle's answers carry that tone where it feels like he's seriously questioning your intentions/decisions, but also like he's trying to answer genuinely. It's almost like he's trying to let you have your cake and eat it too (that is to say, letting you have your fun) despite not being quite sure of how to go about it.

The point is, the fact that he actually answers it is a miracle in itself, and you don't shy from letting him know you appreciate it.

HOW HE ANSWERS THE QUESTIONS

AFTER HE ANSWERS THE FORM

Actively seeks you out in person to confront you about the form. He has a feeling you were being serious about it despite the formatting, so he pretty much confirms that you do like him.

Also asks you why you would want to go about it this way, and most answers don't exactly satisfy him, but at the end of the day he's happy about the results.

You like him, he likes you, and that's what's important, really.

(Though he has no real intentions of telling his mother that he's getting into a relationship, he wonders how she would react if she found out not only did he not ask his s/o out first, but that you did it in such a bizarre manner)

"I don't think I would even give this the time of day if someone else sent it," Riddle tells you honestly, "but because it's you... even something this weird is endearing."

character: RUGGIE BUCCHI premise/trope: sending Ruggie the classic crush form, except you send it when he's busy with work and now he can't concentrate because he's too busy blushing and giggling and kicking his legs at the thought of you 👍👍

HOW HE REACTS WHEN YOU SEND THE FORM LINK

He hadn't planned on viewing any of your messages at first (or anyone's messages, really). He planned on viewing them once he finished up for the day.

But Leona was getting annoyed with the constant beeping, and honestly he was too (like, couldn't they just send it all in one message, whatever it was they wanted to say?) so he moved to view the messages quickly, maybe answer if he felt like it, then mute his phone for an hour.

Except he saw that the messages were from you, and he caught a peep of the link preview... and then he just lost it.

"It" being all sense of focus and comprehension and he knows it's bad because Leona's staring at him weirdly.

"Why are you blushing and giggling like a school girl what the hell..."

Leona just doesn't get it, Ruggie justifies. When the actual love of your life confirms their feelings for you it's enough to make anyone collapse to the floor and weep, and if anything Ruggie is holding up pretty well by, well, still being able to fold a shirt properly in spite of it all.

And then he almost messes up the laundry by mixing the colors with the whites, so maybe he is too distracted after all.

RUGGIE: ya rly hda to go send it now of all times, dontcha?? do ya want me to embarras myself in fornt of leona or smth???? wth have mercy on me

He makes a bunch of typos but he can't be bothered to correct them.

He can't really focus for the rest of the day, and when he's free from his assigned tasks he heads straight for his phone. He should be studying, but he doesn't think he can focus on that at this point without reading the form and just... seeing if you're for real, for real.

Ruggie answers like he's trying to be slick but he also can't help but slip in just how much he likes you and the types of reactions you get out of him.

HOW HE ANSWERS THE QUESTIONS

AFTER HE ANSWERS THE FORM

He needs to call you (honestly would prefer to meet up in person, but it's pretty damn late and he wants you to get your rest and... yeah, the in person talk can wait for a little bit)

Honestly you've just... lightened up his mood, like a lot. Like he just knows he's going to be full of energy and motivation tomorrow, and maybe the days after because of how much happiness you've given him.

You can tease him all you want for his answers and the spelling/grammar mistakes (in his defense, his hands were shaking the whole time!) but he can't even get himself to be too upset by it. You're laughing and giggling and that's all enough for Ruggie's good mood to skyrocket.

After that dies down, though, the two of you end up planning for your upcoming date.

"Don't think I'm not gonna getcha back for this, shishishi..."

character: AZUL ASHENGROTTO premise/trope: sending an s/o application form to Azul, who's been crushing on you for a while now

HOW HE REACTS WHEN YOU SEND THE FORM LINK

Makes sure to check the link properly first since bait links are popular these days (he learned his internet safety from Idia). Messages you in a different platform to ask if you've been hacked.

When you tell him you were the one who sent the link, it still doesn't quite sink in that you're being genuine. Before a crush you are a friend and he does trust you, but a part of him wonders if this is some prank or if someone forced you to send him something like that. You must know how badly he likes you, don't you? Please don't make fun of his feelings like this.

He calls you to really make sure, and with some reassurance from you he finally understands that this isn't something mean, that it was a trend you wanted to hop on, and that you won't judge him for his answers

You tell him that he doesn't have to answer if it makes him uncomfortable, that you just thought it seemed fun, but he tells you he does want to answer it.

"If... if you really consider me as someone who could become your partner... When opportunity knocks on my door, who am I to not answer its call?"

He tries to sound more confident, but inevitably hangs up because he doesn't think he can answer properly with you on the phone. He might end up typing a bunch of nonsense!

Azul struggles with having a fun answer and answering completely seriously, almost like it's a job interview or something. Doesn't realize until the last few questions that there are no other candidates to compete with. Maybe he should have skimmed all the questions first before answering.

The good thing, though, is that you do learn about how Azul sees romance, so even if the whole form was meant as something silly at first you do learn more about him.

HOW HE ANSWERS THE QUESTIONS

AFTER HE ANSWERS THE FORM

The last two questions gave Azul some confidence when it came to pursuing you. There's just something reassuring about actually knowing that his feelings weren't unrequited as opposed to having to make assumptions or having to make the effort to get you to fall for him.

You've already made most of the first moves, from confessing your feelings (albeit not quite in person, maybe he could try doing that...), to being the one to ask him on a date... There must be something he can do. He wants to play on equal ground, make the first move as well.

That's when the idea strikes him. It's not very innovative, but there's no need to fix what's not broken, is there?

Azul sits in front of his laptop for approximately an hour, and when he's satisfied he converts the file into a PDF. It's not a very serious document, even if it's formatted as such, and that's how you know that he's finally eased up.

"Since I've passed the application period, the next step is to sign a partnership contract, is it not?"

masterlist | end notes

[ 1 ] twst.ly is basically bit.ly, the link shortener

[ 2 ] compared to part 1 (the first years) where it was set post-NRC, this time i set it during NRC. the remaining second years will also be set during NRC, though the third years is mixed 👍

[ 3 ] the text versions of the images are in the alt text/image description but do let me know if you would prefer it to be in the post itself!

[ 4 ] i'm thinking about whether i should continue making the forms manually instead of just using the actual google forms app, it's such a hassle my laptop keeps overheating these days huhu

#twst x reader #twst headcanons #twst hcs #riddle rosehearts x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #nathya twst writing #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #riddle rosehearts x you #ruggie bucchi x you #azul ashengrotto x you #twisted wonderland #ruggie bucchi #riddle rosehearts #azul ashengrotto

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