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prettyboykatsuki · 1 year

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The am can not come faster because I need elaboration on Isagi reading fanfic over your shoulder and just fingering you

all the things you're thinking of | i. yoichi

✮ tags ; fem + afab!reader, established relationship, aged-up characters (they're in their early twenties), teasing, fingering, doggy-style, isagi is the slightest bit mean, reader like. masturbates in bed next to isagi but not indepth, mention of rough sex, the petname beautiful

✮ wc ; 3k (idk either)

✮ a/n ; isagi...hicc...sniff...i want ur dick so bad... wuh

✮ synopsis ; isagi thinks the porn comics you read on your phone are too interesting to ignore.

Isagi thinks your hobbies are cute.

He can't really follow along with them, though he does try his best. When Nagi comes over and the two of you have in-depth conversations about powers systems or scaling - most of it goes in one ear and out the other. He knows what things you like. Well enough, at least, to buy things for you overseas.

But he can't tell studios apart, and he doesn't know why you hate that one cat villager on your island so much apart from the fact he doesn't fit the vibe. All the same, he still follows along with you. He clumsily joins you when you watch things together and he's picked up a handful of series from your roster to talk about when it comes up in conversation.

Most of all, Isagi knows you like to read.

You never tell him what you're reading. He catches glimpses. You and Niko share interests in webcomics. But he knows there's other things that you're not too keen on sharing. And maybe he's too nosy for his own good, but you're always seem so glued to the screen. Always scrambling to put it away, ask him about his work.

It's cute, really. Whatever it is, he's not going to judge you.

Finding out you're reading graphically sexual content, however, does something to him he isn't all the way sure how to explain.

He knows it now. The face you make, though he doesn't think you know you're making it. You hide it well, it's almost impossible for him to gauge - except your breath hitches just a little and you fold in on yourself. You're engaged and sometimes, you chew the inside of your mouth before it gets to the end.

You always go back to talking to him like it's nothing. You'd probably insist it's nothing too. It's just something you like to look at from time to time.

But you read it so often. He'll wake up and catch you when you're not sleeping soundly next to him, eyes on the screen and legs held so tight together. You get tense. You toss and turn like you're debating it.

You've only ever masturbated about it once that Isagi knows. Did it quietly with your teeth in a pillow - a broken sigh leaving your mouth with relief. You washed your hands and went straight to sleep. Isagi stared at the ceiling with the worst hard-on he's ever had to endure in his life.

He's never brought it up to you because he's sure you'll be embarrassed. Until now, he didn't want to make you feel humiliated. You have nothing to be ashamed of, and he's not so inconsiderate to make you feel that.

But, it's been a busy week and he's pent up. You look cute laying in your shared bed, with your hair put up and your skin clean- phone away from him so he can't see the screen. He should be a little nicer to you about this.

Knowing that doesn't stop him. He stares at you from the doorway.

You put your phone down and he has to stop himself from smiling.

"Oh," Your voice is heavy with lust but it softens immediately "You ready for bed?"

"Mm," He yawns, coming around towards you. Lifting the sheets, he slides in bed next to you, immediately wrapping an arm around your waist with a deep sigh "Not feeling very tired today."

"Really? Practice normally sucks up all your energy."

He presses his nose to your neck and kisses the skin on your nape. "I got out of running the last round of drills 'cause I scored a bunch during practice matches."

You reach around behind him, softly petting his hair "Yeah? Good job, baby."

He could just initiate like this. You wouldn't turn him away. He feels bad for what he wants - particularly that he's wanting to humiliate you a bit.

Still. Just a little teasing shouldn't hurt.

"You can keep reading, you know." Isagi offers, forcing himself to relax "I don't mind."

You stiffen. Stutter as you open your mouth to say something.

"O-oh uh, no, it's fine."

"You sure? I don't wanna interrupt to you," He acts sincere. It's unkind to be like this towards you. "Plus, I'm curious what you're always reading."

"...It's nothing interesting." You assure. He hums.

"You always look so invested though." He pouts a little to cement it in. The heat crawls up your skin, and you squirm and Isagi can't help but goad you "Makes me curious. Is it something you can't show me?"

You freeze completely. He tightens the arm around your waist.

"Did I get that right?"

You seem like you catch on. Isagi has to keep himself form smiling as you squirm, turning just barely to look at him.

"Yoichi." You say, stern and shy and oh-so cute "Why're you..."

"I can't be curious?"

"Yoichi," You say again, whisper all soft and sweet. It's music to his ears, a tinge of embarrassment wrapped up neatly in a silent plea "When'd you find out?"

"That you read porn? A while ago." He tells you. You let out a noise of indignance, even try to crawl away. You fuss, and it's so lovely Isagi has a hard time controlling himself. He catches you before you can run away "I didn't say it was bad."

"It's embarassing. You should've pretend not to know."

"But it piqued my interest," He insists, whispering against the shell of your ear "Doesn't it bother you being left out to dry?"

"It's just fun to read, okay. Don't do this to me."

"Then you can keep reading it," He hums as slips an arm underneath you "Keep reading it."

"You're scheming."

"A little."

You pout, and turn your head to look at him. Isagi offers nothing but a pleasant grin. He kisses your temple first, then reaches to kiss your cheek - turns your head to kiss you soft and tender.

"Keep reading. I'll read with you."

Isagi nudges you and you sigh, but you pick up your phone. He sits quietly, chin over your shoulder - comfortably spooning you as you pick your phone back up and shuffle through Safari. You open up a website and do some scrolling before pulling up whatever you were just reading.

You're aware of him. Every few minutes, you'll glance at him over your shoulder but he keeps his eyes glued to your phone. It's a smut comic this time - not a story. It doesn't start as just porn, there's something going on in the plot that Isagi pays attention too.

It gets there though. Isagi watches as it plays out, looking at your expression in the white reflection of your phone. You're fixed to it. He laughs to himself. You were so shy a minute ago, but you're sucked in. The girl in the comics is getting groped. So he hums, sliding his palm against your hips before reaching up under your shirt.

He slides both hands under you as he touches you - fingers reaching up to squeeze the fat of your tits. They're soft and warm, and you react to him but not enough to stop reading. He rolls your nipples with his thumb and forefinger, listening to you whimper. You're still focused on it, almost even more than you were a minute ago.

But you look like you're seconds away from having your eyes crossed - so Isagi doesn't bother moving on. He likes the way you feel in his hands. Round curves that fit so perfectly for him. He squeezes and pushes them together, pinching. You whine pleasantly, scrolling a little slower than before.

"Yoichi," You huff, rubbing your cheek against the sheets "C'mon."

"You want more? We're not there yet, though?"

You keep reading instead of protesting, and he follows in pace. Mimics what happens on screen by letting his hand past the waistband of your shorts. He slides his fingers against and through your folds - rubs gently around where you need to be touched until you're pushing back into him. You still haven't fixed your mouth to whine, still being diligent.

You both read as it happens. The girl in the story gets teased, so Isagi teases you.

"You're soaking wet," He says, unscripted and sincere "Didn't know you were so lewd."

"I'm not. You're touching me, so obviously"

"You'd be wet even if I wasn't touching you though, right?" He hums, a smugness even he can hear as he toys with you "Is this what you like reading? He's being so forceful."

"I-it's other stuff too. I read other, hnggh."

Ah, he's being mean isn't he? He can't help it though. Your eyes are fluttery, and you react so well. He lets his middle finger slide along your clit, rubbing soft and slow and delicate. He takes you apart with ease and you succumb to it even easier. He doesn't get to do this often. Catch you off guard and overwhelm you so easily. You don't waver like this almost ever.

But he kind of wishes you did. You look so good when you're like this. Embarrassed and on edge and needy. He likes to the way you can't help it.

"Don't hold it in, you can be honest with me." He insists, because some part of him really is curious "What other stuff? You read lovey-dovey stuff too?"

You don't reply. He shakes his head.

"I'll stop if you don't tell me."

"You're being awful."

He would say sorry but he doesn't mean it. He sucks on your neck, teeth grazing the skin as he rubs your clit - just barely there. Not enough to get you where you want, but enough to make you want more.

"Tell me."

So you yield "T-that stuff too. Doesn't matter, I just—"

"You just like seeing cute girls get fucked and thinking about it being you?"

"You're saying too much." You warn, but it doesn't feel meaningful. You say it through a broken moan, a sweet little plea. His dick is twitching so hard it almost hurts. You're insides are soft and melty and your voice is thick and you're so fucking cute. "It's not l-like that."

"It's okay if it is," He offers, not really listening. You're still holding the phone but you're eyes are closed "But you should tell me, hm? I'm your boyfriend, it's what I'm good for."

"Why're you bein' like this?" You sound sniffly. He's a terrible guy. Really. He grins.

"I think you're cute. It's nothing bad." He insists, thoughtfully. He rubs your clit a little harder, a little more sharp and you open your mouth wide and shake "You get turned on all by yourself, so I'm punishing you? Something like that."

"You're so cunning."

"You like that about me."

He smiles when you smile begrudgingly.

"Only sometimes."

"Keep reading. I'm interested in the story."

He's not lying completely. But he's more interested in the fact you get so into it. You listen well when he touches you and he rewards you for your compliance. He'll stop if you're too unfocused and you're too needy to do that to yourself. So you try to go slow enough so it seems like you're reading, but your hand keeps trembling when you hold the phone.

You're wound tight, and Isagi wonders if you might cry like this. A part of him wants to see if he can make you. He shouldn't do that though. He should be kind the whole way through.

He slips his hand down lower, middle finger prodding at your entrance. They're moving onto penetration in the comic you're reading, plenty of lewd and well-shaded shots mixed with different sounds typed out. You're getting all doe-eyed again, almost voracious as you consume. He lets his middle finger slip inside of you slow, pushing in so he reaches the base of his knuckle before pulling back out.

When you're loose like that, he gives you another. This much he's used to. He knows how much he needs to prep you before he can fuck you, but today he's taking his time. Stretching you out slowly and carefully, deliberately as you watch with anticipation.

Two fingers deep, he curls his fingers up and caresses slowly. They're doing it from behind on the screen. Isagi hums.

"Should we do it like that? From behind?"

"Hngh, I d-dont know. I dunno."

"She's liking it. You like being fucked like that too, right?"

"Yoichi,"

It's not nice. He keeps reminding himself. But he can't help but fuck his fingers into you deeper, just like this. You're gripping your phone so tight but he almost wants to slip just so he can tease you about it. So horny you can't control yourself, can you? You can't even think straight. Can't keep it together enough to do something so simple.

It's not like Isagi is particular to needless bullying. Unless he's playing soccer, he's always a good guy. A nice boyfriend if nothing else. It's not something he even has to try at.

But watching you like this makes him wonder if maybe he's less of a good guy than he though. Each little reaction he pulls out of you makes him want to tease you more. You'd look cute getting fucked face-down, too. Anything you do endears him so much he can't stand it.

Your pussy, soft and supple, is almost begging for him. He likes that you can get like that.

"Is that you what you want? You have to tell me, okay? I can't read your mind. That'd be nice."

"Stop talking and do it already."

"Do what?"

"Fuck me."

He grins, really feeling sorry as he pulls his fingers away from you.

"Yeah, yeah. Took too long right? My bad. C'mon. Bend over for me,"

Watching you listen is cute too. Your shirt is half up as you position yourself, rolling over on your stomach before pushing up on your knees - arms out in front of you and perched over your perfectly. Isagi thinks it's a miracle only possible through some higher power to be dating you. It's driving him insane, the soft arch of your back and the curve of your ass - skin peeking through the bottom of your shorts. Soft tits pushed into the mattress below you, cheek against the pillow.

He swallows, positioning himself behind you before pulling your ass to his pelvis. You shudder.

"You make me so hard." He says, earnest.

"You're really turned on by this?"

He laughs, rutting into you as he holds your hips. The view of your ass like this is almost too much.

"Most guys would be turned on by this. It's cute."

"You're extra annoying today." You say. Isagi leans over to kiss you as gently as he can before you really get angry at him.

"Sorry. Maybe I'm hanging out with Bachira too much."

You don't exchange any more words. Isagi slides your shorts off just enough to get access, slipping his fingers to make sure you're still loose. He spits into the palm of his hand, rubbing his shaft until it's wet before grabbing hold you by your hips. He lets the tip rest against your folds before pushing in so slowly.

No matter how many times you do this, this part always makes him want to cum right away. Pushing into something so soft and so pliant makes his brain feel like it'll pour right out of him. He shudders, nails digging into your hips as you swallow his cock so eagerly. He groans, resting his head on your shoulder.

"So wet. Ngh, so tight. You're so sexy."

"You've teased me enough today. Fuck me or I'm gonna get mad."

"Anything for you my love."

Per your request, he pulls out in one swift motion before forcing himself back in. You groan as you fall forward, face buried in the sheets. He can feel how close you are like this. It's warm inside you. He steadies himself by holding you before setting a pace - a little faster and a little deeper than usual. After all the teasing he thinks he owes you this much and you take him so well, he's mesmerized.

The way you stretch around him, the soft drag of his tip against your walls. "This what you wanted?" He says, adding a little venom to his voice just to mess with you "Wanted me to fuck you nice and deep?"

You whimper his name and he feels his spine tingle, adrenaline rushing through his whole body. It feels like you're made for him like this, your whole body reacting to his. He reaches around your waist, fingers teasing your clit. That makes you cry out, ragged with need.

"That's it, there you go. Isn't it nice getting what you want? Instead of letting your head fill with it all day."

"Uh-uh, uh - 's good. Feels good, Yoichi."

Your response almost makes him stumble. He lets out a huff of air through his teeth.

"Unfair."

You laugh lightly, peeking at him over your shoulder as he fucks you.

"You started it."

Something in his chest squeezes as he bends over you, focusing all of his energy into fucking you just how you need. He can feel your insides start to tremble, a grin breaking out on his face.

"Need you to cum for me. Cum for me, beautiful, c'mon."

The warning comes out spliced before you push all the way back on Isagi and cum. He can feel you pulse around his cock and he only gets a few thrusts in before joining you. He paints your insides white, leaving himself buried as he fucks you through your high and the two of you fall flat on the bed

He pulls out softly, before you turn back down and lay next to him like before. You face him this time, grabbing his face in your hands and kissing him hard. It catches him by surprised.

"I'm forgiving you this time because it was hot but if you ever embarrass me like that again, I'll kill you."

He laughs, returning the gesture.

"No promises."

#isagi x reader #bluelock x reader #isagi smut #bluelock smut #writing tag

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pinkrangermemes · 4 months

Text

EPIC: The Musical

lyrics that absolutely fuck me up, feel free to change pronouns and such as needed

"A mission to kill someone's son, a foe who won't run, unlike anyone you have faced before."

"I'd rather bleed for you."

"This is the will of the gods."

"Don't make me do this."

"The blood on your hands is something you won't lose. All you can choose is whose."

"You're as old as he was when I left for war."

"How could I hurt you?"

"I'm just a man who's trying to go home."

"When does a man become a monster?"

"When does the reason become the blame?"

"Forgive me."

"We should try to find a way no one ends up dead."

"You can relax, my friend."

"Think of all that we have been through. We'll survive what we get into."

"This life is amazing when you greet it with open arms."

"I see in your face there is so much guilt inside your heart."

"Have you forgotten to turn off your heart? This is not you."

"Have you forgotten your purpose? Let me remind you."

"Don't forget that you're a warrior of a very special kind."

"Don't disappoint me."

"What gives you the right to deal a pain so deep?"

"Don't you know that pain you sow is pain you reap?"

"Your life now is in my hand."

"A trade, you see. Take from me like you took from me."

"You shall be the final man to die."

"It's just one life to take."

"When we kill him our journey's over."

"Captain?"

"You've hurt me enough."

"When I kill you, my pain is over."

"Mark my words now. This is not the end."

"Remember them."

"Who hurts you?"

"If nobody hurt you, be silent."

"He's still a threat until he's dead."

"Finish it."

"What good would killing do, when mercy is a skill more of this world could learn to use?"

"The blood we shed, it never dries."

"I am your darkest moment."

"I am the infamous _______!"

"This way, you won't disappoint me."

"This way, you won't waste my time."

"Unlike you, every time someone dies, I'm left to deal with the strain."

"I'll remind you, I saw you as a friend, but now we're done."

"This way, you won't plague my life."

"This way, you'll close the door and have your damn goodbye."

"Since you claim you're so much wiser, why's your life spent all alone?"

"You're alone!"

"This day, you sever your own head."

"This day, you lost it all. Consider this as my goodbye."

"Don't forget how dangerous the gods are."

"How much longer 'til your luck runs out?"

"You rely on wit, and people die on it."

"I still believe in goodness."

"Lead from the heart, and see what starts."

"And what will we do when it tears us apart?"

"You're like the brother I could never do without."

"How much longer 'til your strength takes leave?"

"I can't have you planting seeds of doubt."

"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer."

"Sometimes killing is a must."

"Friends turn into foes and rivalries."

"Never really know who you can trust."

"The end always justifies the means."

"So much has changed, but I'm the same."

"I'm left without a choice and without a doubt."

"Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves."

"You are the worst kind of good 'cause you're not even great."

"You are far too nice."

"Mercy has a price."

"Unlike you, I've got no mercy left to give."

"The line between naivete and hopefulness is almost invisible."

"What have you done?"

"I am your darkest moment, the monster that always draws near."

"Remember me."

"There's only so much left we can endure."

"Think of your past and your mistakes."

"No, I'm not a player. I'm a puppeteer."

"I can hardly sleep now, knowing everything we've done."

"It's a game of wits, but you don't have to play."

"A foe like ____ is not to be messed with."

"You could be hurt or you could beat her."

"I'll help you conquer her."

"Wouldn't you like your outcome preferred?"

"Don't thank me, friend, you very well may die."

"Did you do something to them?"

"I don't know who you are or why you're here, but let me make this one thing clear."

"I've got people to protect, friends I can't neglect, so now there is no turning back."

"Back at home my wife waits for me. She's my everything, my _____."

"Maybe showing one act of kindness leads to kinder souls down the road."

"This land confuses your mind."

"All I hear are screams every time I dare to close my eyes."

"I no longer dream, only nightmares of those who've died."

"Why would you let _____ live when ruthlessness is mercy?"

"I keep thinking of the infant from that night."

"____, when you come home, I'll be waiting."

"Even if you're the last thing I see, I'll be waiting."

"I took too long."

"I'll always love you."

"Your past is always close behind."

"I see a song of past romance."

"I see portrayals of betrayal and a brother's final stand."

"I see a man who gets to make it home alive, but it's no longer you."

"We've suffered and sailed through the toughest of Hells, now you tell us our efforts were nothing?"

"I see a wife with a man who is haunting. A man with a trail of bodies."

"How has everything been turned against us?"

"How did suffering become so endless?"

"Do I need to change?"

"What if I'm the monster?"

"What if I'm the problem that's been hiding all along?"

"If I became the monster, and threw that guilt away, would that make us stronger?"

"So what if I'm the monster lurking deep below?"

"If I gotta drop another infant from a wall in an instant so we all don't die, then I'll become the monster."

"I'll become the monster."

#since I haven't seen one yet #epic the musical #roleplay prompts #rp prompts #roleplay starters #rp starters #rp memes #roleplay memes #epic the musical starters #sentence starters #rp sentence starters

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bearambles · 2 months

Text

sober (haymitch a.)

words: 3.9k

warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex, p in v, oral (f + m receiving) , teasing (?), too much plot 😭

notes: this is so late! i am so sorry to whoever requested, i got super busy and couldn’t post it the day i planned. also, this is my first ever smut! so i am sorry if this is terrible, i’ll get better over time. enjoy!

The party lasted hours. Your feet hurt, your stomach is churning, and your head pounds. You've never wanted your district bed more than now. This place reeks of wealth and lies.

Unfortunately, skipping these monthly events would anger Snow. He already dislikes you and your district, so you have to do whatever it takes to please him. If that means enduring long nights of drinking and throwing up, so be it. It's better than death, you suppose.

There's only one other District 12 victor here with you, and he disappeared halfway through the night. Haymitch, despite being a good friend and your former mentor, is possibly the worst person to rely on in these social situations. He's been sitting at the bar for who knows how long, drinking who knows how much. It's only when the host literally announces it's time to leave that you find him, slumped over the counter on a stool.

"Haymitch? Come on, we have to go," you urge, shaking his shoulders.

"What? No, let me stay. I'm sleeping," he mumbles.

"You're not sleeping. You're fine. Here, I have one of those drinks that make you throw up. It'll sober you up enough to say goodbyes," you say, handing him the glass. He pushes it back towards you without even looking up.

"I don't want that Capitol shit."

"This Capitol shit will help you a lot right now. Haymitch, get up!" You push his head to the side so you can see his face. He opens his eyes to look at you.

He's only in his late twenties, but his eyes seem older. He looks as rough as he acts. His hair is too long, and his beard is starting to come in slightly, despite him saying he'd groom himself for this occasion. Still, he looks handsome. Not that it matters; his current state reflects his antisocial night.

"Please. I'm trying to keep us out of trouble. You've been alone all night. At least come say goodbye to people with me. Then we can go home, okay?"

If harshness isn’t working, you'll try being soft with him. Sometimes, just sometimes, it works. It seems to today.

He sighs and sits up, steadying himself with his palms flat on the counter. He reaches for the purple liquid and swallows it like a shot, squeezing his eyes shut and grimacing.

"Okay, I'll be back then," he says, going off to throw up.

You nod and take a seat on the stool next to where he was sitting, waiting. You can't help but feel guilty. You should have stayed with him longer that night before he went off on his own. You knew he'd go drinking, but you didn’t know it would get this bad.

Since you've known Haymitch, he's had a bit of a drinking problem. Mostly under control when he mentored you—never more than tipsy. But in recent years, as more of his tributes lost the Games, it's gotten worse. It's weighing on him, you can tell. You want to help so badly.

"Okay, let's go," he says, returning a few minutes later, running his fingers through his hair. He's clearly sobered up a bit, maybe even washed his face. His breath smells of mint.

The host and his wife are among about a dozen people remaining by the time you leave the bar and walk to the main room together. Nonetheless, you both put on a show, shaking hands and smiling, thanking them endlessly. You never know who's watching, present or otherwise.

As you make your rounds to the last few victors, Haymitch latches his arm closely with yours. The move surprises you; you realize he hasn't been this physical in a while. It seems to come with sobriety or maybe just part of the Capitol's show. Together, you almost look like a couple. It's odd.

When you leave through the doors, he doesn't let go of your arm. It's a cold night, and you shiver, but the warmth of his body next to yours feels weirdly nice.

"Thank you," you say, looking up at him on the train ride home.

"For what?" he asks, furrowing his brows.

"For taking the glass. I know you hate that stuff, but—"

"But I need to get sober," he says, looking away from you into the distance.

"I didn't say that, but it's nice when you are. I mean, it's helpful with the image when you aren't stumbling around—"

He detaches his arm from yours.

"So I shouldn't drink because the President said so?"

"He didn't say so, Haymitch. I'm saying so. You shouldn't drink because I say so."

"And why's that?"

"Because I like you better like this."

He goes quiet, then looks down at his feet, his hair falling in his eyes.

"Yeah, well, it's harder than it looks, sweetheart."

"I know that. I'm sorry," you say softly.

The rest of the ride is quiet. It's just the two of you on the train, and any sound you make seems to echo for ages. Neither of you wants to speak; too much is unsaid.

You care about him; you know that. You just aren't sure how. Though it seems increasingly clear to you in moments like this when all you want to do is tuck his hair behind his ear and kiss him softly. You have no idea how he'd feel about that, though. You have no idea how he feels most of the time.

In fact, just then, it's the first time he's seemed to feel bad about his drinking. And it doesn't seem like he cares about his health or the Capitol's opinion on his image. It seems like he feels bad for disappointing you.

When the train stops, you both get out, him first, then you. He offers his hand as you step down, and you take it with a slight smile. His hands are cold, as is the night.

Your houses are directly next to each other in Victor's Village, making the walk there excruciatingly awkward. You can't tell what he's thinking, or if he's thinking at all. Finally, after what feels like an hour, he speaks.

"That stuff is really nasty, you know that?" he says.

You look up at him. "The purging stuff?"

"No, the desserts they were serving," he says, rolling his eyes and bumping his shoulder against yours. "Yeah, the purging stuff."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. You're right. What you said and stuff. That's all right. You're right."

You smile and look up at him. He looks back at you and smiles softly, then looks away. He clearly hates to admit it.

"Don't be cocky about it, though. And don't expect me to stop. It's not that easy."

"I don't. I just like you like this."

"Yeah, you mentioned that. What do you mean?"

You've reached your house, and he stops in front of your door, feet planted. He looks down at you with a questioning gaze, and his blue eyes seem to dart across your face. Your cheeks flush. You have no idea what to respond.

"You know, just... sober," you say, looking away.

"No, I know, but the 'like' part. What do you mean? Because you got all shy when you said it," he says, swaying a bit where he stands, impatiently waiting for a response.

"I don't know," you say quietly.

"You don't know?"

"No. I think we should go to sleep. You should go to sleep. No more drinks. At least wait until tomorrow."

You try to push past him to your door, but he takes both hands out of his pockets and gently shoves your shoulders back. Not hard, but enough to make you stumble. He gazes down at you and steps forward, closing the space between you.

"Whoa, you're so eager all of a sudden. Look at me," he says, tilting your head up with a hand under your chin. "Why are you so embarrassed?"

"I'm not."

"Yeah, you are. You like me?"

"Haymitch, stop. You're—" You stop, tears pricking at your eyes. He's teasing you, you're sure of it. The last thing you want is for him to figure out your feelings. Not after he's been your mentor, not after he's seen you at your worst, after he's been your friend (?) for this long. It doesn't make sense. You know that. And he knows that, most definitely. That's why you're sure he doesn't feel that way towards you. He can't.

"You're crying. I thought you were all tough?" he says.

He's right. You were tough. Crying makes you weak. You hate talking like this. So honestly.

"Stop it," you jerk away from his hand, which had crept up to your cheek. "Go to bed."

But you don't take a step forward, don't shove past him again. You just stand there, your breath heavy, looking away. He gazes at you like he's seeing you for the first time, his eyes darting from your eyes to your mouth to your body.

"I don't want to. I want to talk to you," he finally says.

"About what?" you say, still looking away.

"Us," he says softly.

"What about us?"

He takes a step forward.

"Come on, sweetheart. You're so good to me. Take care of me. Trust in me. Give me hope."

Your breathing speeds up as you feel his hand stoke your arm gently up and down as he speaks. You’d always been cautious of his words, so used to his drunken thoughts being untrustworthy and sometimes cruel. But this feels honest. Real.

“I know you feel something.” he says as you lift your head to look back at him. “You might not know what. I don’t know either. But c’mon.”

He starts to lean closer and your eyes drift closed. Before you can even register, his lips are on yours, and you’re kissing back. Your hands hold his elbows and his hold your face.

His mouth tastes of the mouthwash from the capitol washrooms. He’s so slow with you, like he’s trying not to scare you. You aren’t sure if he possibly could.

Suddenly you pull away.

“What’s wrong?” Haymitch asks, his eyes wide.

“We should go inside.”

“Oh. Yeah.” He registers quickly what you mean.

All along the village are cameras for the capitol to see what goes on. Although it’s unlikely you’d get in much trouble for a kiss, you never knew what would land you a meeting with snow. Or just become the talk of the next victor event.

You push past him and unlock your door quickly, before turning back to him, motioning for him to come inside. By the time you close the door, he’s kissing you again, this time the careful act gone. He catches your lips and kisses you like his life depended on it. It’s messy and wet and you’re so turned on it’s insane.

His hands both reach down to hold yours, and he pushes them up against the door. The motion catches you by surprise and you moan softly into his mouth. He hears you and holds down tighter on your wrists, just enough to feel but not to hurt.

His knee starts to spread your legs apart slowly as he kisses down your neck, and you let his name slip from your mouth.

“Haymitch~”

He stops to look at you.

“Yeah? You like this?” He sounds like he’s genuinely asking. Like he needs to know.

You nod, your brain already fuzzy.

“Okay. Okay.” He sounds out of breath but resumes

his task, getting down to your collarbone.

Hes rough with his kisses when he’s below where any marks would be seen. As he unbuttons your shirt, he looks at you, smiling like an idiot. It hits you then that he seems to have wanted this as badly as you all along. He leans in to leave a soft kiss on your lips before pulling your sleeves off your arms and throwing your top to the floor.

“Jesus…” He mutters as he looks down at your tits.

You reach behind you to unhook your bra, and let it all forward and land next to your shirt.

“Holy fuck.”

You laugh quietly at his words. He looks up at you in awe and with a look of asking as he creeps his hands from your waist up to your chest. You nod and let out a sharp breath when his cold hands hold your tits and knead them slowly.

You wonder then if he’d ever done this with a woman before. He was younger than you when he won, so probably not before the games. And after…he’d never really seemed the type. But then again, he was attractive and still young, so you couldn’t be sure.

Besides him, you’d only been with one or two boys from district before you were reaped. They were, however, nothing like this.

He takes one nipple between his thumb and pointer, pinching slightly. Between the pressure and his cold hands, you let out a noise of surprise and pleasure.

“Does that hurt?” He asks

“No, just…it’s a lot.” You say through deep breaths. “K-keep going.”

He smiles and does the same with the other, and your hips jut forward slightly in reaction. He doesn’t notice, which you’re grateful for. You’re so eager it’s embarrassing. Every touch makes your stomach flip and your underwear wetter.

Slowly he starts to kiss down from your collarbones to your chest and takes a breast in his mouth. He looks up at you as he sucks softly, his tongue swirling your nipple. His big eyes looking into yours makes you feel like you could cum then and there. you let out a moan instead.

He plays with your breasts for a while longer before they’re nice and covered in both his spit and dark, red marks. He knew what he was doing, putting them where nobody could see. you thought of changing in front of a mirror days to come, just looking at them. Knowing it was from him. sober. He wants this.

He gets to his knees before you can stop him, and begins to pull down your skirt.

You’re left in your underwear, your slick having left a clear spot in the front. You turn your head in embarrassment as he touches up your thighs and leaves open mouth kisses.

“All this from that, huh?” he asks, laughing softly

“Shut up.” you mutter into your hand.

“You want me to stop?” he asks, his fingers hooked under the sides of your panties.

“N-no.”

“What was that sweetheart? C’mon, look at me.”

“Don’t stop.” you say, clearer now, making eye contact as he kneels in front of your pussy. You couldn’t be more vulnerable, and yet, you trust him with every inch of your being.

He looks back at your core for a moment before licking a stripe up the thin fabric. You curse quietly and he pulls them down, the air hitting your heat before his tongue does. But when it does…

He laps at you like he’d wanted to for years, which you’re now sure that he has. The urgency makes your legs buckle and he uses both hands against your knees to hold them open. He switches between your folds and your clit, paying attention to both. Every so often he stops and just admires.

At some point haymitch sucks at your clit, and your hands fly to his hair, pulling slightly.

He lets out a groan of surprise against your core.

“Sorry, sorry…” you mutter, loosening your grip.

“No, keep going, I like it.” he says, stopping to look up at you, his eyes nearly glazed over in bliss.

You resume your hold on his head and tug as he continues. Between his lips and his tongue, you’re overwhelmed. before you know it, you feel the coil in your stomach tighten.

“Stop…stop…” you manage in between moans.

He gives you one last kiss to your clit before standing up, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You okay?”

“Just don’t wanna finish yet.” you say without thinking, before getting flushed. Even after all that, you couldn’t believe you were speaking to him like this. Haymitch.

He smiles lazily and goes in to kiss you again, and you can taste yourself on his tongue. It should repulse you, but instead, it turns you on more. He's so happy right now, and it’s so hot.

“Do you wanna go to my bed?” you ask him when you get a breath, his forehead resting against yours.

He picks you up and carries you.

Haymitch knows your house as well as his from all the press training, meetings, and late night conversations you’ve had there. He practically lives with you at this point (Besides the sleeping over part. Usually. Unless he’d passed out.)

He drops you on your mattress and pulls off his own shirt in one motion. Your breath is caught in your throat.

You knew he was in shape, at least he was when he had mentored you all those years ago. But even now, behind the big shirts he wears and raggedy jackets, soft abs trace his stomach. His arms as big as your thighs. No wonder the pressure on your neck felt so nice.

He sees you staring and smiles, leaning down to tuck your hair behind your ear.

“You gonna say anything, pretty girl?”

You try, but you find no words. Instead, you kiss him, and slowly trail your hands down his chest. you can feel raised scars and for a moment, remember what he’s been through. What you both have been through.

You reach his belt and whisper into his mouth,

“Can i?”

He nods against your forehead and you start to undo it, throwing it to the side. You pull his pants down with urgency and run your palm against his boxers.

He lets out a noise you’ve never heard him make before, a mix between a whimper and a moan. You smile and start to palm him faster, before taking him out of his underwear and looking between you at his length.

He’s bigger than you expect, and definitely bigger than the boys you’ve been with before. A solid seven inches and thick. Your eyes can’t look away and your breath rises and falls.

He takes your hand softly into his and guides it to his length. He looks up at you as he does, searching for any hesitation in your eyes. Instead, you look up at him before flipping you both over quickly, so you sit on his thighs.

He’s strong, but so are you, and he doesn’t resist as you take charge over him. He does, however, look a bit surprised, and reaches to hold your hand again. You take it and kiss it, which he smiles at. Then, you lean down, and let a glob of spit dribble from your mouth to his cock.

“Jesus christ…” he mutters, as you use your free hand to pump up and down. “When did you…fuck…feels so good sweetheart”

You smile and take him in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down quickly. His other hand still holding yours, he grips at your hair (much gentler than you did his) and makes a make-shift ponytail so he can see your pretty face.

Despite the view, his eyes flutter shut in pleasure, and your pace quickens. You feel him pulse inside your mouth and you’re sure he’s about to cum.

You take him as deep as you can before pulling off, leaving his cock hard as a rock and covered in your saliva. You admire your work for a moment before he reaches forward and pulls you on top of him by your hips so you’re right against his chest.

“C’mere” he moans, fucked out, before taking his cock in his own hand and looking over your shoulder to position himself in front of your entrance.

“You want this?” he asks, taking your cheek in his free hand and stroking his thumb against it.

“Please.” you whisper.

Slowly, he inserts himself into you, catching your moans in his mouth as he kisses you slowly. He stretches you out so well, and your slick helps him move without much pain. Still, you bite down on his lip at the feeling of being full once he’s in. You let out a whimper.

“I know baby, I know. Shhhh. Tell me when to move, okay?” he looks into your eyes.

For a moment you just kiss him, his mouth so warm on yours and his cock so warm inside you. You could die like this.

Then, you pull away, and lift your hips, before slowly moving back down.

“Fuck…” he moans, before catching into the pace you set and moving you up and down on his cock. “So perfect for me, yeah? You feel that?”

You nod dumbly at his words. He could say anything to you at this moment, and you’d agree. He feels so good. So right.

“You wanted this huh? Is that why you want me sober? To fuck me?” he asks, and you shake your head as you bounce on his dick.

“Hm, but that’s part of it, yeah?” he insists, “You like this. Me. C’mon sweetheart, you’re needy. That's okay, I'm givin’ it to you. I'm here.”

You fall against him and place your head on his shoulder as he fucks into you like you’re a doll. He knows just what to say to get you so embarrassed and so wet. The words only add to your pleasure and you can feel yourself getting close.

“Haymitch…” you moan against his shoulder.

“M’ close pretty thing.”

He takes one of the arms holding your hips and moves to your clit, rubbing quickly. The feeling sends you over the edge.

“Fuck, haymitch, i’m cumming~” you mutter, raising your head to look at him as you fletch down and your orgasm washes over you.

As you come down from your high, he speeds up rutting into you, and you put each hand on one of his shoulders for support. His eyes are closed and his mouth slightly open as he mind your name over and over like a prayer.

He lifts you off of his cock and back onto his thighs before cumming all over your belly. You reach a hand down to stroke him as he does, but he catches your wrist. He’s sensitive, you can tell, and you laugh softly.

“Sorry pretty girl. Made a mess.” he says, looking in between the two of you. Between his cum and yours, there’s not a part of either of you that isn’t slick. He takes a finger and swipes a bit of his own before putting it in front of your mouth. Grinning, you take it in your mouth and suck, tasting him.

“Jesus.” he says softly, as you lay down next to him, your face buried into his neck.

You lay there like that for a moment, breathing. His hair sticks to his face in certain places, and his cheeks are rosy. The reality of what had happened hits you.

“You know, this isn’t the only reason you should drink less-“ You begin, propping your head up on your hand.

He sighs.

“I know. I’m too happy right now for lectures though, alright?”

You consider for a moment before deciding that’s fair. Laying back down, you cuddle into his side.

“You admit this is part of why though, huh?” he says after a few moments, and you can hear the smugness in his voice.

“Was it worth it?” you ask

There’s a pause.

“I’d do anything for you.” he answers.

And for now?

That’s all you need.

tysm for reading! like + reblog if you enjoyed :)

#haymitch abernathy #haymitch x reader #haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch smut #haymitch abernathy smut #the hunger games #the hunger games smut #the hunger games fic

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l0ngschl0ngking · 2 years

Text

Not the person I once knew

Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: past lovers reunite after many years…and then what?

warnings: SMUT (vaginal fingering, oral-m!receiving, protected p in v -i know, shocker-, biting, choking, overstimulation al liiil’ possesive!Joel -just a smudge-), ANGST, mentions of death and shootings, thoughts and mentions of suicide, cursing, Joel and reader being two idiots that cannot express how they feel and…fluff because I can’t help myself

word count: 10k ( yeah the zero is supposed to be there)

A/N: I am too jumping on the Joel Miller train. This fic actually has plot and it’s not just a straight up porn which is shocking :D. Also I am actually crazy - I have a week off from school and that’s why I write that much. I can’t stop - literally.

Your feet were aching – you've had to walk at least 20 or so kilometers by now – and the cold was biting your skin most unpleasantly – finding a good winter coat or any kind of winter clothes was not easy in this fucking Outbreak. You started to feel thirsty and tired and all you wanted to do was lie down and fall asleep – maybe death by cold wasn't the worst fate you could've endured.

Your mind quickly flashing to your group – you've killed most of them, the snarling of them still ringing in your ears, the smell of gunpowder lingering in your nose. You've done what you had to do – one of your guys got infected and infected almost all of the other ones – the ones that survived either left to fend for themselves which you thought was the stupidest thing ever or killed themselves – fucking cowards. Their blood stuck to you like a second skin – the smell of iron making you uneasy when you started to think about it. Maybe you should've killed yourself too. What was the point in surviving now, anyways? You didn't have a group anymore and you had no supplies anymore. Sure, you could eat the snow for water intake and try to hunt something – but you felt too exhausted for that. Your knees buckling – you fall into the cold snow – you hear something then. Voices, the sound of horses neighing and a…dog? Were you starting to hallucinate? You weren't though – the sounds getting louder and clearer – you quickly scramble to your feet and grab your pistol but you pale when you see how many of them are there – all of them looking more sure of themselves on their horses and with their guns raised on you. The dog barks at you, snapping and growling and you've never thought that you might die getting robbed and then mauled by a dog – though they did not look like raiders. Their clothes look clean and kind of new – compared to your worn and torn-off jacket at least.

Someone says something but you don't hear them – your gaze focused on the dog, your pistol pointing at the handler. You've always been a dog lover – before the Outbreak at least – but this didn't look like he wanted to be friends with you.

“Hey, I said drop your fucking gun or I'll shoot your head clean off!” One of them says – repeating himself – and you gulp dryly doing what he says – you were a fighter but also you weren't stupid. There were too many of them and even if you had good aim you wouldn't be able to shoot your way out of this. The guy who addressed you squints his eyes when you lower the gun to your feet – he gestures for you to kick it further and you reluctantly do so.

“Listen here, cowboy,” you sass when you see the cowboy hat on his head, “I was just passing by – my group is dead, they got infected and-” at your words everyone grips their guns a little tighter – the person holding the dog loosening the leash a little in his hands. “Whoa, whoa, I am not infected, I swear.” You sound desperate and you are – you probably should have blown your fucking head of yourself when you still had the chance.

“We will see about that.” One of them gruffs – you guess it's the one closest to you, the one on your right – and you have the urge to break his nose. Yeah, if you were in their position you wouldn't trust someone either but you are not – and you feel pretty fucking terrified – even after years of survival. “Release Buckley!” The first one – the one with that stupid cowboy hat – says and then you see the big ball of fur running towards you. Closing your eyes you pray that he can't smell any jerky on you – you know so he could nibble on your fingers a little and get a taste of you. The pain of teeth digging into you as you expected doesn't come and so you open one of your eyes – you see that the dog's tail is wagging and a grin slowly makes its way on your face. You slowly bend one of your knees - you are not getting any younger and pain shoots through your leg – but you ignore it and start petting Buckley. He's not that bad when he doesn't look like he wants to eat you alive.

A high-pitched whistle cuts through the air and then he is gone – heeling opposite to the person who previously handled him. They don't say anything more and start to slowly turn their horses on their heels when an idea comes to your mind – they look well-fed and clean, and you feel hungry enough that you would eat practically anything. The exhaustion creeps back up at you after the adrenaline wears off and you shout a quick “hey” - their heads turning in question. You offer them a little smile, kicking your feet into the snow and putting your gun back.

“You guys have a place for one more hungry stomach? I just want something to eat – maybe a few hours of sleep and then I'll be out of your hair. Pinky promise.” you grin and show off your pinky finger – you've always had a way of trying to make the situation lighter than it really was and now that you know they don't pose any tŕeal threat – for now at least – you get your hopes up. All of them share a quick look before the one with that stupid cowboy hat – who wears something like that in the middle of the winter – nods and your grin spreads wider. You grab one of the hands that reach towards you to pull you on a horse – and when you are finally on its back, you stroke its muscular thigh lightly. Maybe this day was not so bad after all.

When you arrive at Jackson it is almost noon. You raise both brows when you see the wooden heavy gait in front of you– the people patrolling their stations curiously looking back at you. When you asked them if you could come with them you didn't expect a whole fucking community of people in a small town with electricity and other necessities – your eyes wandering to the various small buildings that look like shops more so than something where you could take shelter. When you asked them if you could come with them you expected a flimsy building without windows in which you would hardly make a fire. You aren't surprised anymore why they acted so tough – families lived here, old couples and people of various ages. A small flicker of hope goes straight to your heart – maybe you could stay here – you were tired of fighting to live another day. And this looked like a great fucking place.

The guy that was riding with you dismounts the horse – helping you do the same and you pet the animal – thanking it quietly. People don't really look at you – at least not so openly as the ones that were taking patrol – they are doing their own things – some of them just crossing the street, others helping to build a new building – you wonder what that is going to be for – a group of kids runs right in front of you squeaking. They play and your heart aches – it's the first time you've seen kids be so carefree since the outbreak happened – it looked like their childhood was not ripped from them. One of the kids – a young girl no older than 6 – looks almost like Sarah – curly wild hair, big eyes and the cutest dimples you've seen adorn her face – and you feel a pang of hurt in your heart. Reaching for your necklace you squeeze the ring that is on it tightly in your palm – Joel and Sarah would love it here.

The man you've called cowboy asks you something and you turn to look at him – he's quite handsome but he is a lot younger than you for sure – he has this boyish innocence still written all over his face when you pin him with your stare. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“I will accompany you to the canteen. Tommy is already waiting there, a few men that were with us already informed him about your arrival.” He sounds formal. Too formal – as if his words were learned. Like a little boy scout you think. Images of Tommy Miller through your mind and you grin fondly at the memory of him – you could never imagine him being a leader of a community like this.

“Lead the way, cowboy.” You don't miss the way that the boy's ears gain a darker shade of red and so do his cheeks.

When he leads you to the canteen – you can't believe that they have a real freakin canteen here – you look around because you can't take it all in at once. Jackson looks like an old town from some kind of cowboy movie – maybe that's why the boy wears the stupid hat. A few people on the way politely greet you and you greet them back. When you arrive at the canteen the bo points to the man that has his back turned back on you and before you can thank him – has gone. The lights adorning the room are a nice touch – it looks old school here – old wooden chairs, and tables with plaid cloth scattered across the room, and you can see an old Coca-Cola freezer from the corner of your eye. Your steps are much lighter – even though you are still hungry and tired you're at least not cold anymore, the temperature here is not as cold as outside. The man that cowboy pointed at talks to someone – an older lady with a high-pitched voice with pretty blue eyes – and you wait before they end their conversation, standing to the side. The lady whispers something to him – you can see her lips moving but don't hear anything – and then the man turns and looks at you. If you have something in your hands right now you would for sure drop it.

Tommy fucking Miller was standing a few steps away from you. He looked older – of course – and his hair was a lot longer than you'd last seen him, the mustache he was sporting suited him. You saw the way he scrunched his brows together – as if trying to categorize you to one of his people – and then you saw the realization cross his eyes. His hands drop to his sides and when you whisper a hushed “Tommy ?” he was right in front of you – hugging you close to his body. The hug was desperate and you felt the tears you held back falling from your eyes – the palms of his hands soothingly caressing your back. After a few minutes or was it seconds he pulls away from you and you have so many questions but none of it comes out of your mouth – the lump in your throat not allowing you to. If he was here – alive and breathing – did it mean Sarah and Joel were here too? Or…No, you couldn't think that way. You had buried the memories of Millers a long time ago – but now, seeing Tommy here? He gave you hope.

“Wow-uh, I’d thought I’d never see you again, Doc.” The small nickname of endearment falling from his lips makes you sob and he softly grabs your elbow so you two could sit at the nearest table – a young woman quickly rushes to your side when Tommy gestures with his hand for her to come and he whispers something in her ear – just now you can see the few people scattered around staring at you curiously.

“Tommy-I-is-is Joel here too? And Sarah.” You grab the ring on your necklace tighter – you've been dreaming of this moment for too long – and he looks at your hand noticing the shiny thing attached to the chain on your neck. The engagement ring Joel proposed with.

“I-uh- I'll tell you everything but you need to eat first, Doc, alright?” You don't feel hungry anymore but you nod – noticing the look in Tommy's eyes makes you uneasy – but he offers you a smile and you offer one right back reaching for his hand – squeezing his hand in yours.

You sit and listen to Tommy talk – you aren't sure if minutes pass or hours – but your eyes nurn from all the crying and you feel your stomach drop with your heart multiple times during Tommy's story telling how he – they – come up here. How Joel was desperate to contact you – you were in Houston on a quick trip with your friends at the time, to look for the wedding dress – seems stupid when you think about it right now. How they killed Sarah – your sweet little Sarah, you thought of her as your own, you've lived with her for almost three years and that girl adored you and you adored her right back – you cannot imagine the pain Joel felt when she was killed right in his arms. Tommy tells you about Joel's suicide attempt too – how he didn't see any purpose in life when both his daughter and fiance were not around anymore, he didn't know if you were still alive. He tells you about his wife, how he got here – how he joined Fireflies for a while and you have the urge to punch him when he says that – you have a distaste for that motherfuckers. He tells you about Ellie – not much though – but enough to figure out Joel cares about that girl a whole lot. And most importantly he announces to you that both of them are here and you almost jump out of your chair to go and find him – but Tommy quickly grabs your elbow and stops you. He tells you about how Joel changed a lot – but so have you. When you tell him that he just shakes his head – you don't understand.

“Doc, I don't know how he will react seeing you after 20 years. He is not the person you once knew. I think you should sleep on it first.”

You want to protest but the sound of the door opening and the rushed call of “Tommy!” stops you. You look at who interrupted you and it's a girl close to Sarah's age. She has short brown hair tightened up in a ponytail and a pair of brown eyes. She has a scar across her brow and when she stops next to Tommy and mutters a quick fuck – you know it's Ellie. Joel's Ellie.

“I heard there's someone new in town and I was super curious – Joel told me to wait for him but then he started playing on his stupid guitar and-” he still plays on a guitar. That pulls a little smile on your face. The girl seems like she didn't even notice you and Tommy wants to open his mouth when Ellie seems finally acknowledges your presence.”Fuck, it's you. You're the new person.” Tommy scolds Ellie when she curses but you just grin at her attitude and seemingly “I want to know and also do know everything ” mindset.

“It's okay, Tommy. God knows I curse a lot too. Hi, Ellie.” She seems confused about how you know her name and you've missed talking to kids – God you have missed your job so much, after all, that's how you and Joel met. Sarah broke her leg and when the nurse told him you could finally see them he was more nervous than a mouse being chased by a cat. He was so worried about Sarah that he didn't even notice you ogled him after you were all done with Sarah – but of course, she did. She was a sweet kind and when they left she muttered to her father he should definitely ask you on a date – he just shook his head and told her not to be silly – you were too pretty for him. Turned out you lived close by and from their visit you've started seeing both Sarah and Joel a lot more outside your work. It was you who finally got the courage to ask the hot single dad out – you will never forget how he gaped at you seemingly not trusting his own voice to answer so Sarah quickly jabbed him in the ribs and said that: “he would very much like that” - he was talking her ear off about you even unknowingly so.

“Okay, how the fuck do you know my name and who are you because it seems you and Tommy are big buddies here. Just so you know he has a wife.” She says matter of factly and you think you like this kid a lot – you can see why Joel does too.

Tommy clears his throat. “Ellie, this is Doc.” He says and he doesn't even notices the fact he called you your nickname – you see the way Ellie's brows scrunch up in confusion. “She's a long lost…family.”

“What, are you like their sister? If so you for sure received all the pretty genes – though Joel never said anything about ever having a sister.” She's a lot more talkative than you thought she would be and you think it might be because she finally has a place that she can call home and not worry about stranger danger – at least not that much.

You chuckle. “No I am…” you look at Tommy to see if you can say who you are – though you don't know if Joel still thinks of you as his fiánce – after all, it's been 20 years. He just nods. “ I am Joel's fiánce” You can hear her gasp and say “holy shit!?” - most of the people in the canteen turn their heads to throw her a nasty look. Well, that much at being discreet

“You are Joel's dead fiánce? You don't seem that dead to me.” She mutters that last sentence as she starts inspecting your face and scrunches her nose at you. “You smell.” She states matter of factly and Tommy scolds her once again but you just shrug your shoulders at him.

“It's true, Tommy. No harm in being honest.” If Ellie knows about you it meant she must know about Sarah too and it also must mean Joel talked about you to her. That fact makes your heart build a little faster. Maybe…maybe he still cares about you – logically you know he does, he was a very loyal man back in the days too – but still, it makes your cheeks heat up.

“Joel will lose his mind! You have to see him like right now!” she sounds enthusiastic and you are too – seeing Joel after 20 years? You've been dreaming of this moment for so long…Tommy interrupts your little fantasy – clapping his hands he throws a look at Ellie and smiles at you.

“I think it's for the best if you showered first, Doc As Ellie said you don't smell so fresh and maybe a reunion with your husband would be a lot happier if you don't make his whole house stink, eh?” You regularly nod and when Tommy says you can shower at his Ellie says she will come with you – she asks you a lot of questions about yourself – where you grew up, what did you do before Outbreak, where did the nickname Doc come from – she says you are super cool when you answer her you were pediatrician before everything went to shit. She asks how you and Joel met and you answer her truthfully – you've never liked lying. Tommy just walks next to you and listens – you look at him from the corner of your eyes and see he is thinking – he always has this look on his face – his brows are scrunched and his lips are set in a thin line. Joel has that look too when he thinks about something or concentrates – it was your favorite quirk of his.

The walk is quick and you meet Mariah – she's sweet – she offers you clean clothes and when she closes the door behind you so you can take a shower – you exhale loudly. Knowing that Joel is here and that you will see him made your stomach twist in anticipation. Ellie hangs back downstairs with Mariah and Tommy and you can hear their hushed voices – you are pretty sure that they are talking about you. You want to quickly hop in the shower but when you do it's like heaven on earth – the first spray of hot water hits your sore muscles and you feel yourself start to relax. You haven't had a hot shower since the beginning of the outbreak and you missed it so badly. You try to scrub all of the grime and blood from your skin and hair but it seems like mission impossible and you stay in the shower for far longer than the 10 minutes you said. When you step out of the shower you look at yourself in the mirror – at your face and the bags under your eyes, at your body scattered with scars and the thought of Joel not liking what he will see quickly flashes through your mind but you push it away just as quickly as it came – this was a different world. You wrap the fluffy towel around yourself and sigh in bliss. The clothes Mariah gave you fit you and maybe it's that much of your style – but they are clean and smell like they were just pulled fresh out of the washing machine. When you come down quickly the banter stops between the three of them and you can hear Ellie say that “great, you finally don't look like shit”. She grabs you by the arm and leaves the house – dragging you through the streets of Jackson. She walks quickly for someone so small and you try to keep up with her – the new winter coat you wear is flowing behind you with the speed you are walking.

When you arrive at the house Joel and Ellie live you try to catch your breath muttering that you are not as young as you used to be – Ellie just rolls her eyes and steps on the porch which creaks under her footsteps. You like the house – at least from the outside – you imagined something like that when you planned to move with Sarah and Joel after you two marry.

“So, we are here. Take off your boots when you come in – Joel hates cleaning up the snow I leave behind when I come in and walk in boots through the house.” You nod but then she is pushing you in and you throw her a scared look.

“You are not coming with me?” You hiss and she just shakes her head as if it was the stupidest thing she has ever heard.

“No. Enjoy your time together. I don't want to hear you two fucking.” And then she shuts the doors behind you with a force you didn't even know a little kid could possess. Right after she do you hear a gruffed “Ellie I told you to wait for me we talked about -” he stops mid-sentence and you feel like all of the air in your lungs leaves your body when comes into the view, He looks older – but somehow more handsome then you've last seen him. The grey in his hair suits him, and the patches in his beard are now more prominent than they were before. He looks good – more than good. You don't know what to do or say. The two of you just keep staring at each other – he looks you up and down and you see his breath becoming quicker. You're the first one to break the silence.

“Hi, Joel. Long time no see.” You laugh quietly and the tears in your eyes leave your vision blurred. You're the one who moves first too and you hug him tightly – he changed over the years, he's softer and he doesn't smell like he did back in the days – but there's something about his presence that feels entirely like Joel and you grab onto his plaid shirt – squeezing it in your fists. You don't want to pull away – you never want to leave him again but when you feel him not responding to the hug you slowly pull away and look into his eyes. He's scanning your face and now you see tears in his eyes as well. The weight of his calloused hands is more than welcome and you close your eyes when you feel his thumbs slowly stroke your cheeks. The small escapes your throat and you nod when he quietly – oh, so quietly murmurs - “you are alive.”. You stay like that for a while – both of you don't dare to move in case this was all just a dream. You want to hug him again – to feel him against you but when you try to pull him closer to you he unexpectedly quickly pulls you away. You look at him confused and he wipes his tears away – he doesn't know how to act around you. It's been too long. He buried the memories of you and never wanted them to resurface. The knowledge that you are alive and here right in front of him hits him like a fright train. It scares the fucking shit out of him.

He clears his throat and avoids your gaze when he asks you if you want to sit – you agree hastily - you didn't take off your boots like Ellie said and you contemplate for a flash of a second that maybe you should - when you see the change in his stance and attitude. He's trying to distance himself from you and you don't understand why – wasn't he glad you were here?

You look around the living room. It's spacey and you hate that small painting of deer above the fireplace. You quickly scan the bookshelf and figure most of the books are Ellies. When you sit on the worn-off couch you expect that Joel will sit next to you – but he moves across the room and keeps standing. You are confused and you don't understand – you never expected your reunion to go this way. It stays quiet and you break the silence once again – he never was much of a talker anyway- you and Sarah kept the house full of laughter and it was never quiet thanks to both of you – and he never thought he would miss it that much.

“I met Ellie. She actually dragged me here.” You chuckle but he doesn't respond – this was such a bad idea. He tears your heart apart with his stoic stance and silence and doesn't even know it. But he can't bring himself to speak or move – he worries if he does you will disappear.

“Okay, I guess I will go.” He wants to tell you to stay here with him. But alas nothing comes out of his mouth – though when he sees the ring on your neck he gasps and you throw him a questioning look.

“You-you kept it after all these years.” You are confused but when you see where his gaze is trained you look at your engagement ring and smile. “Yeah, I-uh, I've never stopped thinking about you or Sarah you know.” He sharply inhales, he wants to tell you so much. “And every time I look at it I hear her annoyed voice scolding you on how you proposed.” You snort and he grins softly remembering your light laughter and Sarah's huffing on how un-romantic he was.

“Babe just another five minutes, please.” You grumble and feel him smile against your skin – his patchy beard scratching your neck. His hands squeeze your hips and your breath hitches when you feel his tongue flatten against your pulse point. He hums against your skin and nips at your skin – you try to push him away but he just grins wider and hovers above you.

“You know you said that six times now come on, want to take you somewhere nice. Promise I will make it worth it.” He wiggles his eyebrows and you giggle at his antics – he was the one who slept in most of the time – but on days like this – where you feel exhausted from the previous night's session of amazing sex – you feel like you could sleep till afternoon. You slowly kiss the bald spot on his beard and one of your hands sneaks to the band of boxers – he grabs your hand quickly and shakes his head at you.

“Na-ah, won't work on me this time, sweetheart. You can't seduce me.” You just hum and kiss the spot between his shoulder blade and neck – gently scraping your hand through his already tousled hair. His eyes flutter close for a moment and it's now your turn to grin against his skin. You know you won.

“Mmm, I don't know but you left your girlfriend pretty unsatisfied last night.” You try to push the smile off your face when he quickly opens his eyes at your words – you know he never backs down from a challenge.

“Oh?” You hum and finally cup his semi-hard cock in your hand. He grunts and you smile, biting your lip when he slowly puts his fingers inside your panties. “So wet for me already baby, was three orgasms last night not enough for you, mhm?” He asks when he pushes two fingers inside of you and you gasp – arching your back and he squeezes one of your breasts – his now hard cock strains against his boxers.

“How do you know I-oh fuck. Didn't fake it?” you grit out when his fingers brush against the spongy spot inside of you – his thumb drawing circles on your clit leisurely. His eyes darken at your question and he hooks the two of his fingers inside of you – it feels too good and all you can do is just moan in pure bliss.

“Oh, believe me, sweetheart, I know. This sweet pussy grips me like a vice when you cum. Guess I need to remind you.” The other hand that was squeezing your tit now goes higher and he strokes your jaw – you grant his access to your mouth and he growls when you bite on his lower lip and your go to the back of your head when he speeds his hand – his tongue sliding into your mouth and when he pulls away you kiss the underside of his jaw.

“Guess you do.” he mumbles something alongside “such a smart mouth” before his hands grab you around your throat and put small pressure on it – you shudder and he just hums when he feels you close. “Gonna cum for me, won't you?” You just nod and when you finally do cum – you bite his shoulder, your nails scraping across his back. He pulls his fingers out of you and sticks them in your mouth – you hum around them and push him so he is the one laying on his back.

“I have to return the favor.” You throw him a cheeky look and he just mutters an “oh god” when you pull him out of his boxers – the tip already red and sensitive, leaking precum out of it. "Guess I will have my breakfast early."

An hour later Sarah is already up and grins at you. You bid her a good morning – you try to look presentable – you've already brushed your teeth, changed and you smile at her when you see that she made pancakes.

“Sooo, do you like the ring?” she asks and you stop pouring coffee into Joel's mug. He throws Sarah a quick look of “don't say another word, please” but she ignores him. “You know, the one dad proposed with?” your go slack-jawed and look at Joel who quickly scrambles to his feet from the chair and pulls you to him.

“What is she talking about, Joel? You ask and he uncertainly smiles and bends one knee – you see the little black velvet box and when he opens it you gasp – the ring inside of it is beautiful – simple and elegant and tears well up in your eyes.

“Oh my god, dad. You said you would propose before the sunset.” Joel shrugs his shoulders and keeps his gaze trained on you.

“That was the plan but were… preoccupied.” He grins at the last word and Sarah mutters a quick “gross” but starts looking for that old stupid camera to make wvideo of the proposal– hoping you would say yes. She thought of you almost like a mother and when Joel told her he wanted to marry you she squealed in delight.

“So whad’ya say, sweetheart? Will you marry me? Even though I am proposing in our kitchen and with my pajamas on.” You nod and he lets out a breath of relief – when he stands up you kiss him passionately.

“You won't get rid of me now that easily, Texas.” You whisper against his lips as he wipes your tears away.

“And I wouldn't have it any other way.” You couldn't wait for the new chapter of your life with Joel and Sarah by your side

Joel stays quiet for a long time after your confession and he almost misses you leaving – but he registers the door shutting softly. He falls onto the floor – putting his hand on his heart which seems like it will fall out of his chest any moment- his breath is quick and he can't seem to calm himself down. His ears are ringing and he registers the flow of tears after they fall on his cheeks and into his mouth – the salty flavor of them sits heavy in his mouth – and he wishes he could be man enough and run after you. But he doesn't – he stays sitting up on his living room floor the face of you haunting his mind alongside with the old memories

Tommy was right. Your fiánce was not the person you once knew. Joel seems to be avoiding you because you've been in Jackson for a week now and didn't see him at all. Not that you minded after seeing his enthusiasm – or rather lack of – at seeing you. You try to not think about it that much and throughout the day you occupy yourself – at night you cry a lot – Mariah always comes to your room and shushes you to sleep or if you are talkative that night she lets you talk. It's like having a girls' night but more…depressing. The people in Jackson are nice and you try to help everywhere you can. Whether it be with kids or at the canteen. Helping with sheep or horses – you often go and visit Buckley – he soothes your ongoing nerves. Joel will have to come out of hiding one day. And you are not ready for that. On the other side Ellie seems to hang with you a lot – the day after your meeting with Joel she almost tackled you to the ground when she forcefully asked what did you do to Joel – you have to give it to her, that girl got spirit and an undying loyal heart like the man she is living with. After trying to explain it to her –it was very hard because she thinks Joel can do no wrong really – and you are not saying he did, she gave in pretty easily and started hanging out with you.

You are staying at Tommy for a while – at least before you decide if you will leave which is very unlikely or they will try to find you another accommodation. She comes there every afternoon and brings her science books – you found an anatomical book in the library one day and kept it with you – and you try and teach her the various Latin words or show her where is what on her body – three days ago you two drew a life-sized human and marked bones on it and such. You've met other people too and learned that the shy cowboy's name was Henry – he asked you out and you admired him for his braveness but you told him you are probably closer to his mother's age than to be his girlfriend.

Tommy went and tried talking to Joel too but you both know how stubborn he can be and when you asked him how did it go he just shook his head low and offered you a sad smile. Today you wanted to help an old lady, Mrs.Grempinks - or something like that – with knitting. Her hands were shaking the past few days and she felt sad – you offered her help and she accepted – she doesn't need to know you do not know how to knit at all. At least it will maybe make her feel better that she is not the only one in the room with poor knitting skills. On the way to her, you come across Ellie and she lets out a relieved sigh when she spots you.

“Here you are I've been looking everywhere for you.” she empathizes the word everywhere and starts dragging you with her – where you aren't sure.

“Hey, Ellie. Slow down. Ellie!” you shriek when you figure out where exactly she is dragging you – to her – Joel's- house and you burrow your heels into the snow-covered ground.

“Joel isn't home and I want to show you something really cool – I've been working on it for the past couple of days after you borrowed me your anatomy book.” You want to protest and you turn around in the direction of Mrs. Grempkin's house but you don't have the heart to tell Ellie that you don't have time and Joel is not home and you would leave soon enough anyways – she will just show you her little project and then it's gonna be as if you never even put your foot in the house again. When she pulls you inside she again quickly closes the door behind you and dread overcomes you – oh no she didn't – she shows you the two keys in her hand and you know the other one is Joels. She locked you out.

“I am sorry but both of you are miserable and you have to talk it out!” There is nothing to talk about with Joel – he doesn't need your presence near him, it's been clear and you mouth a quiet “please, Ellie, don't do this” while you jumble with the handle. It's no use and you sigh thumping your forehead against the door. You quietly take your boots off this time and start looking around the house – looking for Joel to tell him what just happened.

You find him in his workshop – it's nice and you stay in the doorway while looking around. You see the various little wooden figures and you find it cute that he found something he can get lost in. The various guitars on the wall peak your interest – you've always loved when he played and his back is still turned on you while he focuses on his woodwork – you enter the room slowly and when you touch one of his guitars a low “hi” echoes throughout the room. His back is turned still but his hands stopped moving and he is sitting still.

“Didn't know you could hear me.” You say and he chuckles lowly.

“I'd be dead by now if I didn't hear someone sneaking up on me.” He says and you hum acknowledgment – when he finally turns to look at you your breath hitched because he is so effortlessly handsome it hurts. You cross your arms around your chest.

“I wasn't sneaking up on you.”

“Sure you weren't.” He throws you a grin and it's different than the last time you talked – or didn't really – to him. He is more relaxed and he actually looks like he doesn't mind seeing you in his house. It's quiet for a while but not that uncomfortable silence that suffocates. You look at one another and you take him all in – his aquiline nose and his full lower lip, his brown eyes and you look at the dip of his neck – licking your lips. It's suddenly too hot in here with the way his gaze burns into you.

“I am sorry.” He offers and you don't understand what for – or you do – you just want him to expand that sentence because you felt like a fool the last time you were here. “I am sorry for the way I reacted but I never thought I'd see you again and when you just appeared in my house I was overwhelmed with emotions I didn't know I could still feel. After Sarah died I-” He chokes and you are in front of him in a blink of a second – cupping his cheeks and he closes his eyes bathing in your gentle touch which he doesn't deserve - or at least he thinks so

“You don't have to tell me anything. Tommy told me and I-I am sorry what happened to Sarah. And everything you've been through, Joel.” You say and he opens his eyes and shakes his head – none of what happened was your fault and you shouldn't be sorry. He was glad you weren't with him when all of it went to shit because you'd probably be here by now. It's easy to be this intimate with him and you bask in the way he lets you touch – you expect him to pull away like last time – but he doesn't. Instead, he brings his lips closer to yours and searches for your gaze which drops when he licks his lower lip.

“I want to kiss you, sweetheart,” he murmurs and your lips are almost – almost touching when he says so. His forehead is pressed up against yours and your hands that were previously holding his face now move behind his neck – your nails scratch the spot behind his ear gently and he closes his eyes – whether in pure bliss or to hold himself back you don't know – though if its the latter you don't want that. “Need to kiss you,” he adds. You just nod your head in agreement – you wanted nothing more than to kiss him the last time you saw him.

“What are you waiting on then, Texas?” You tease and you feel him smile into the kiss – it's just a gentle press of lips – as if he was testing the waters. One of his hands grabs your hip – squeezing it – and the other moves behind your head and pushes you closer – he needs you closer. The wet press of his lips is more urgent now and his tongue licks your lower lip. You grant him access into your mouth and then the kiss becomes more urgent, more passionate, more desperate – Joel was always a good kisser and you always enjoyed just making out with him late at night to some bad movie that was on the TV. The hand on your hip moves lower and he cups your ass – you moan into his mouth and he hums, the other hand now stroking the hinge of your jaw. Your hands scratch his scalp and he almost but purrs – pulling away from you he plants butterfly kisses across your face.

“Bedroom?” The question seems silly – you need him and if you'd be any younger you'd jump his bones right here on the floor. But you are not so you nod and he pecks your lips quickly before he grabs your hand – squeezing your fingers in his – and leads you to his bedroom. When you enter it he closes the door more forcefully than needed and before you have time to look around he is pushing you onto the bed – your back hits the mattress and he grins – he hasn't seen this sight in over 20 years and he is enjoying every second of it. You sit up and pull him by the collar of his shirt. He is quick with it – his mouth on yours again and his hands start exploring your body – they go from your thighs up to your tummy and then higher – he squeezes your tits – you moan and his hands move higher cupping your cheeks tenderly. He pulls away and moves your hair out of your face.

“Need you so badly.” He pants – and you feel just the same. You feel him start undressing you but you want to make this last as long as possible. You push him away and he seems confused before you are pushing him on his back – your sit on his lap and you feel how hard he is under his jeans – you test the waters and grind down on him – your hands on his chest and he really wants to keep his eyes open but the feel of you on him makes him feel like he's fuckin teenager again that will bust his load into his pants any second. “Fuck, gonna make me cum before the real fun even begins and I am not young as I used to be. If that happens I will have to eat you out at least three times.” You grin and bend down to kiss his neck – your tongue leaving hot trails in its wake. He sits up with you and his hands fly to your lower back to support you. He surges forward – his tongue exploring your mouth, mapping your teeth with it and when you feel his hands trying to take your shirt off – you tug him by the hair roughly – his hips bucking up to meet yours as he moans your name brokenly.

“Slow down, baby. Want to appreciate you.” You push his chest so he will be laying again – he wants to protest but you put one of your fingers to his lips. The look he gives you is downright sinful before he is sucking it into his mouth – his teeth nipping it and you can't look away from his advances. His tongue peaks out and you feel the way he swirls it around your digit just like used to when he ate you out. You moan brokenly and put another one there and he bites into them softly. The small butterfly kisses you leave on his scar from his suicide attempt makes him drop your fingers from his mouth as he groans loudly – he feels so fucking appreciated and loved at this moment that it makes his head dizzy. “Need to see you, baby. Sit up.” He does and you unbutton his shirt slowly one by one while he kisses your jaw and your neck – sucking at it once in a while his tongue flattens out against your pulse point where he leaves a mark.

“Fuck, want you to take your shirt off too.” You don't have time to comply before he is pulling it over your head and you are not wearing any bra – the one Mariah gave you did not fit you – and he immediately reaches for them. He pinches one of your nipples while he sucks on your other one and you throw your head back – it always felt this good with him. Sex with him was easy and he was a generous lover. The only man that had ever made you cum. When pulls away he frowns when he sees the deep red scar close to your heart.

“Someone stabbed me but as you can see I am alive and well. Don't worry about it, We all have our own scars.” Your thumb slides across the one next to his temple and he nods – he is angry at himself though. Maybe if he was with you it wouldn't happen. Maybe if he'd try to look for you harder. Maybe…”Hey, Joel. You still with me?” You stroke his bicep and he nods before you peck him gently. “Strip out of these, will you? Want to suck your dick.” You pat his jeans-clad thigh and his jaw rocks forward. You sit on the bed and he makes quick work of his jeans and his boxer – his cock is bobbing with need and you open your mouth awaiting.

The first lick sends him into overdrive and he grips your hair and tries telling you to take him deeper – just a little bit deeper. You drool and the spit starts to cover his balls – it's messy and the sounds he makes sound like straight up from porn. His head is thrown back and he gets lost in the feel of you – your mouth – and he can't believe you are here with him. He feels his balls pull up tighter and he pulls it out quickly before he is bending down to kiss you – he doesn't register the surprised sound you make when he pushes his tongue almost all the way back down your throat.

You taste like him because you are his, his, his and the growing need he has for you makes him almost rip your new pants before he is working his fingers inside of you – the familiar wetness and tightness make him feel like he is 30 again – and you cry out. He drills into you and snarls when your nails dig into his forearm, his nose bumps against yours and he wants to kiss you but he concentrates on making you cum because he wants to be inside of you. To mark you as his. His to kiss and hiss to make you cum and his to love and his, his, his. He searches for that spot and his other hand sneaks onto your inner thigh – when he finds it – he can hear it from the high-pitched moan that you let out. He smacks you onto your inner thigh and you jump forward and try to get away from him. It's too much – his fingers, his groans and talks and his tongue that find its way into your mouth. He's too much and he can feel you are almost there – almost. He grabs your throat and his eyes watch your Adam's apple bob – his thumb putting slight pressure on it. The squelching sounds of your pussy make him double his efforts and he can feel you getting closer and closer with every pass of his fingers through your walls – your pleas echoing through the room. He knows you need more and he grins menacingly when he sees how your pussy glistens with your juices and soak his hand.

“Fuck, sweetheart look at you. Soaking me. You want to cum?” He knows you do and he is downright cruel when he slows down and you sob because you want to cum – you nod and he is not happy with that – swatting you against your inner thigh once again before repeating that question.

“Yes, yes, Joel! I want to cum, please make me cum!” You feel on a verge of tears and he kisses you softly before he continues his previous efforts – his thumb now circling your clit and it's the additional stimulation you needed. He curses when he feels you squeeing him and he works you through it – your vision goes white and all you can think about is Joel and how good he is – before you come back down and he is still working his way inside of you and suddenly its too much – you try to push him away but the hand on your thigh just grips you harder – the blunt nails of his digging into your thigh.

“Please, Joel, Too much, it's too much!” You cry out but it's like he can't hear you and he bites your lower lip, his fingers never stopping and you can feel him pulling another orgasm out of you – you can feel him grin against your mouth and murmuring “that's it, such a good girl for me, sweetheart” before you are cuming again. Your legs shake and the moans you let out die down when he puts his coated fingers of your cum in your mouth. Your eyes roll to the back of your head – he is kissing you and then telling you to “share with him” and it's so fucking nasty – a string of saliva connecting you both before he is wiping his mouth. You are sedated and when he reaches for something in his bedside table you don't really care. The sound of foil tearing makes you open your eyes and you see how he pulls the condom on his dick before he is crawling to you.

“Come on, sweetheart. You gonna ride me.” He says and you don't feel like you have that much of a choice – he is pulling you on top of him and before you know it he notches the head of his dick between your folds. You grab the base of him and slowly sink down on him – you forgot how fucking thick and big he was and you need a moment before you start moving. Your muscles are sore and your throat is dried up from all the moaning and screaming but when you look down to see Joel's blissed-out expression – you start to move slowly. He lets you ride him at your own pace – you are the one in control now and he's here only for the right. He strokes his thumbs o your sides and then opens his eyes he feels like he will come right there and then. Your tits bounce with every pass of his cock against your walls and the way your head is thrown back and your throat on full display – his fingers twitch as he has the urge to bring you by your throat and kiss you.

The leisurely pace only lasts for a while before you can feel another orgasm build inside of you – the hair on the base of his cock scratch your clit deliciously. You dig your nails into his shoulders – one of your hands grabbing his jaw when you kiss him – he lets you and his hands move from your hips to your ass – squeezing the flash in his palms. You moan when you feel one of his hands sneak toward your clit but you push him away – breaking from the kiss.

“I am the one that is now in control, Texas.” The smirk you give him makes his cock twitch and he nods – his Adam's apple bobbing when he gulps and you til his chin up as you sink your teeth gently into it. He holds onto you tighter – your pace unfaltering and he wants to cum – needs to – but not before you. His heels dig into the mattress and you pull back to stop moving as your hips start to sway in a figure of eight. It does nothing for him and he whines – whines – in protest. You tell him to “shut up” because you are so so fucking close and that's when he grits his teeth together – his patience runs thin. His hands grab the chain with his ring on it – the only thing you are wearing – and he pulls you towards him by it. The look you throw him is absolutely wrecked and when you are close to his mouth – you need to kiss him, want to taste him – he pulls his head away from you to put the ring between his teeth. That alone almost makes you cum and you can't look away from him – even when he grabs you by the flash of your ass – and start sinking you down on him. You are completely mesmerized by the ring in his mouth and before you know it you are cuming – he slaps your ass when you do and you jolt forward – the ring falling from his mouth when he tangles his tongue with yours.

He fucks you through it and he sits up – his heels planting into the mattress so he can chase his own orgasm – he puts the ring into your mouth now and if he could he would take a picture of you like this – his ring between your teeth while he fucks you silly and your gorgeous body putty in his hands. His balls slap against the meat of your thighs and he puts his forehead on your chest – you can feel the small droplets of his sweat roll down his forehead. He pants and you know he is close – his pace now frantic as he kisses your chest. His lips make their way to your throat and every pass of his cock makes your walls twitch. You feel every vein of his and the head of him pushes against your g-spot. You start meeting his thrusts – pulling him closer to your neck as the only thing he can now do is groan and whine. He can feel your quick pulse and the way your fingers tangle in his locks as you tug him by it – you are overstimulated but he doesn't want this to stop. Never wants this to stop.

“Come on, baby. Want you to cum in me,” You whine and he shakes his head – he doesn’t want to, he doesn't, he doesn't…and then he is cumming as he empties his seed into the condom. He thrusts up at you a few times as he pushes himself through the afer shocks – you can feel him twitch in you before his body goes limp and you fall on him. He strokes your shoulder blades and you listen to his slowing heartbeat – your fingers drawing little hearts on his chest. He slowly pulls out of you and grips the condom by the base of it to tie it off and he throws it into the trash can next to his bed. He pulls you closer to him and you hum – slowly drifting off to sleep exhausted and worn out.

“Love you, Joel.” You say against his neck when you kiss him there and his heart swells up at your confession. He unclasps the chain from your neck and pulls the ring on your finger as he admires it.

“Love you too, baby.” You almost don't hear him when he whispers it against your lips – but you don't need him to say it – after all Joel is a man of actions and not words. And you are perfectly fine with that.

1K notes · View notes

glitterguts13 · 3 months

Note

Who would the genshin boys deal with a baby stuck in their pussy. The baby is just there, but every time they stop pushing to breathe, the baby sinks back into their pussy. All they can do is get the baby to a soft bulge before the baby undos their progress

Oh LORD that's just the hottest fucking shit isn't it? Let's go through them one at a time!

Mondstadt

Albedo Oh, he is so frustrated. This isn't how this is supposed to work, he pushes, and the baby comes out. But no matter how hard he tries, his stubborn child just won't come out. Sucrose can just watch, teary eyes, and unable to really do anything. They aren't in distress, just stubborn. Albedo is thankfully clear-headed and able to keep his calm, but he's no less irritated.

Bennett

Of course, this would happen to Benny. He's squatting down over a mirror, trying to see what's happening down there under his heaving belly. Every push causes his little one's head to bulge, starting to burn, but he can't push hard enough to actually get it to crown. He's a crying mess, but he never gives up.

Diluc Stubborn man refuses to ask for help while he's struggling to push the baby out. He's locked in his room, standing braced against the wall. Gravity should be helping, but his baby just won't move. He can feel it pushing free, spreading his pussy open, but in the end, it just keeps slipping back in.

Kaeya Oh, it is everyone's problem. He is screaming, tired, and thoroughly frustrated with the lack of progress. He cursed up a storm, damning everyone and everything because this baby is just stubbornly resting right there. So close, but not close enough.

Mika Poor thing, he's a sobbing mess. He can feel the head under his fingertips when he pushes, but each time he stops to gasp for air, they sink right back inside. There's nothing he can do but keep trying, and praying they'll finally come out.

Razor He's out in the woods, surrounded by the wolves. On all fours, grunting and groaning the most feral sounds. The baby is so close, he knows he can get it out if he just tries harder! But... every time they just slip right back inside.

Venti He's stumbling through the back alleys of Mondstadt looking for somewhere to rest. Heavy in labor, each time he stops to push the head starts to bulge, but it never gets much further. He's tired, and sore, and just wants it to be over.

Liyue

Baizhu The panic is intense and he loses all his composure. He's not strong enough to get them out, he's witnessed people die during childbirth. His own health is terrible on a good day, and deep into labor without the power to expel his baby, he's certain this is how he dies.

Chongyun Swears up and down his child must be a demon for tormenting him this way. Each push brings it right there, so close- but every time he stops, all his progress is wiped away.

Gaming He's got his family by his side, his mother is worried sick. She'd had the same trouble with him, and is by his side, wiping his face and holding his hand. Gaming is screaming and crying, he can feel them under his palm, he's so close to meeting his baby- till they slide right back inside his aching cunt.

Xiao Honestly handles it a little too well. After you've endured the worst pain known to mankind, a stubborn baby is manageable. Not that he isn't exhausted, annoyed, and fed up. He wants this baby out, and it isn't budging.

Xingqui Crying, screaming, gagging, begging. He can't get it out, he just can't. The healers are holding his legs back as far as they can go, but nothing is working to get that stubborn baby to crown.

Zhongli More annoyed than anything. Like Xiao, he's been around a very long time, and he's been through much worse. He's tired, aching all over, fingers constantly slipping into his aching pussy to graze over the head. It's fascinating, but he would like for it to be over now.

Inazuma Arataki Itto Moaning and groaning through the whole thing, deep into a squat. His baby is large, little horns constantly poking into the tender folds of his cunt each time he bares down. He's going to rip open when they finally decide to crown fully.

Ayato Inazuma customs be damned, he is screaming. To hell with what everyone else thinks, to hell with being proper. He's got a baby stuck in his pussy, tormenting him with each weakening push. The midwives look on with sympathy, all they can do is support him since neither are in any real danger.

Gorou Humiliated and ashamed. Kokomi is helping him the best she can, but with his legs spread wide apart, he can see her wince each time the first of his litter slips back inside his belly alongside its littermates. It's going to be a long night.

Kazuha Stays pretty calm, sort of just letting it happen. Pausing between pushes to pant, he takes a moment to brush his fingers over the top of his baby's head, marveling at how amazing it feels. Not the birth part, that part sucks, but the fact his baby is right there.

Heizou Tired, too tired to keep pushing. If his baby wants to stay inside, it can just stay inside. He's not got the energy to keep going.

Thoma Whoever said childbirth was beautiful lied. Each push sends another splattering of fluid gushing around the head, all over the floor he just polished a few days prior. Stubborn child, causing so many problems already.

Sumeru Alhaitham He knows he needs to keep calm and focus. Slow, even breaths, putting all his strength into pushing. It's beyond frustrating to keep them slipping back inside after each attempt, but he knows if he keeps going, something will eventually give.

Cyno Buns come out of ovens a lot easier than this. Nothing funny about having a baby stuck in your cunt while in the middle of a sandstorm. Luckily, with no one around he can keep traveling in between pushes.

Kaveh There isn't a soul in Sumeru who doesn't know what's happening. Kaveh is screaming bloody murder the whole way, swearing up and down he's dying. This must be some sort of divine punishment because there has never been anything more miserable than feeling his baby refusing to come out. Sethos Crying, but doing his best to keep calm. Panic won't help the situation, but it's getting hard not to. Each push sends him closer and closer into a panic attack because why?? Why isn't it coming out??

Tighnari Is fully aware this can happen, but why to him? He's got a full litter in his tummy, ticking and tumbling away, furious that their sibling is halting their progress. Each push is instantly undone when he stops to breathe, sending it right back alongside its unborn siblings.

Fontaine

Freminet Poor thing. He's quiet as a mouse aside from a few whimpers, but it's growing tiring very quickly. His siblings are beside him, coaxing him through it, but they both look grim at the sight of his baby constantly sliding back inside of his dripping pussy.

Lyney Shouting and cursing. The pain is bad enough, but the disapproving look he's getting from Father is so, so much worse.

Neuvillette Locked up in his bathroom soaking in a cool tub, sobbing quietly. The pressure is so intense, and nothing he does is relieving it. Pushing seems so useless, and he wants nothing more than to pull it out. Wrio Not really calm, but quiet and level-headed. Focuses all his efforts into pushing, bracing himself against his office desk as he does so. The head keeps poking out just enough to give him some hope, before it vanishes inside of cunt once more, leaving him irritated and tired. Fatui Dottore Furious, filled with rage. Violently pushes against his belly, legs spread apart on one of his own medical tables. Swearing and cursing, soaked with sweat and wondering if the reason it's stuck has anything to do with the fact it isn't human-

Capitano Doesn't show a single sign that anything is wrong, or that he's even in labor. He's in the middle of a meeting with the other Harbingers, naked from the waist down under his cloak with a baby stuck in his cunt. Pushing quietly when no one is looking.

Pantalone Held up in his office. Anyone who enters is as good as dead, and if this stubborn brat doesn't come out in the next 5 minutes he's going to slam his gut into the corner of his desk to force it out.

Pierro Same thing with Capitano, you'll never know and it's most likely happening right in front of someone.

Tartaglia Unfortunately, he's well aware this can happen because his mother struggled with all of her births. Unfortunately, he's alone, without help in the middle of a mission. Keeps pushing, but nothing helps, cursing each time he feels it retracting into his birth canal.

Wanderer Having the body of a puppet doesn't make him exempt from such troubles. Maybe it causes more trouble because his pussy doesn't stretch as much as a human's should, and each push is met with firm resistance from his modified body, keeping it firmly lodged in his pussy.

#mpreg #mpreg birth #mpreg kink #birth kink #genshin impact

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bonny-kookoo · 11 months

Note

Chimmy Guardian Angel who has to endure having to guard the dumbest clumsiest human girl in existence AU 😂😂

There's rules he has to follow- he can't save you from every little thing. So he knows, deep down, seeing you getting your hand stitched up isn't his fault at all- but in a way, he feels upset at it, nonetheless.

His task is simple- make sure you don't die. That's all he's got to do, at least until the gods above can figure out why you're just so cursed with bad luck all the time.

From cars constantly almost running you over, to stairs being your worst enemy- life seems to constantly try and kick you out any chance it gets, and it's become such a problem, that you've now been given Jimin- a guardian angel sent down to earth to make sure you wont meet your end earlier than you're supposed to.

But good lord, is it tough.

"It's gonna leave a scar, won't it.." You pout, watching how the nurse cleans up your wound before she puts something on it to cover it. Jimin is holding your other hand sitting close to you, sighing.

"A scar is better than anything worse happening." He gently scolds. "How did you even manage to do that?" He worries.

"I don't know.. I wanted to cut the cabbage but the knife slipped.." You sheepishly explain, making the nurse giggle as Jimin shakes his head.

"Just.. next time, let's cook together, yeah?" He suggests. "I live pretty much next door. I'll help." He tells you, and you nod.

"Thank you Jimin, I really appreciate it." You offer as a thanks to him, smiling.

Which is another big issue.

Jimin isn't supposed to connect with you any closer than necessary- but you're just too sweet to deny, and he can't help but let your soul touch his own. By now, he's sure that even the higher up's have to have noticed his growing infatuation, and he's not sure why they haven't scolded him already for it. He knows it's wrong. As an angel, he's not supposed to fall for you.

It's not meant to be. And yet, he's probably already in too deep anyways to back out now.

Especially when he helps you finish cooking later at your place, fleeting touches lasting a bit too long, smiles sent your way a bit too kind, teasing jokes exchanged a bit too suggestive to be something other than obvious flirting. He's always waiting for someone to step in, someone to remind him that what he's doing is nothing but a sin-

But no one ever does. No one ever pulls him away from you, neither when he's right in front of you, or when his hands move to place themselves on your cheeks, nor as he kisses you, lips stealing your breath and heart at the same time.

And even as he goes further later, there's no one taking that from him. As if they allow it.

And maybe, possibly, they do.

At least for now.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #park jimin x reader #jimin imagine #jimin x reader #park jimin imagine

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tyranasauruslex · 24 days

Text

Modern era Davos being uni roommates with Jace and Aeron with Aemond.

Aemond is a good roommate - he's clean, tidy and grew up in a religious family. However Aeron also has to put up with drunken Aegon banging on the door at all hours of the night until someone lets him and then passing out on the sofa, usually after throwing up. He stays for days at a time to get over his hangover (and because Alicent kicked him out), eats all their food and is generally a nuisance. When Davos stays over he announces loudly that he could hear them fucking all night which dampens the mood a lot.

Aemond and Aegon also fight a lot and Aeron is never sure if he should intervene when they're rolling around on the floor thumping each other. He usually ends up sitting in the library until Aegon gets bored and goes home. Helaena is a nice enough and very interested in the horses Aeron keeps back home, but there's been more than one occasion when Aemond has to let him know that his sister left one of her creepy crawlies behind and Aeron had been unable to sleep for weeks until he finds it.

Davos hasn't fared much better and despite Jace being a rather dull person to live with, he has to endure the stream of brothers, step sisters and a half siblings barging in and out of the flat without warning. Nobody wants a horde of kids bursting in on you when you've got your hands down your boyfriends pants. The worst is Luc who Davos finds to be spoilt little shit of a kid who seems to think he has equally say in what goes on in the flat despite not even living there. He's interrupted multiple date nights by turning up unannounced or ruined them before they've even begun by eating all the food Davos brought in specially. There's also the fact that he cut someones eye out, which Jace doesn't even seem concerned about, but Davos would rather he didn't come anywhere near Aeron.

He and Aeron also had front row seats to The Worst Break Up in Westeros aka when Baela found out that Jace was cheating on her with some girl called Sara. There was lots of screaming and Davos and Aeron had to sit in the hallway whilst Baela smashed up the flat and Jace yelled at her to stop.

They are 100% getting a place of their own next year.

#aeron bracken #davos blackwood #davos x aeron #aegon ii targaryen #aemond #aemond targaryen #brackwood #helaena targaryen #aegon ii #Davron

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thebluestbluewords · 3 months

Text

rumors of his death have been greatly exaggerated

"How's your brother doing, dear?" Fairy Godmother asks, taking Chloe's hand as she comes up to the teacher's table. "Is he enjoying his graduation trip?"

Chloe tips her head sweetly to the side. "What brother?"

Fairy Godmother looks puzzled. "Your only brother, dear one. Unless your parents have adopted another without telling me?"

"Oh, that brother. I haven't seen him since..." Chloe hesitates. "The incident."

"I'm sorry?"

Chloe beams. "The incident. It's a family matter, I'm really not supposed to talk about it. I'm sure he's fine, though. Mother isn't too worried about him."

You could make a topographical map out of the folds in Fairy Godmother's forehead. "Yes, of course. I'm sure that must be hard on your mother, not having her son around."

"She endures." Chloe says cheerfully. "I should really go get dinner before I hold up the line. I'll see you in class tomorrow. I've already got my Fairy History essay ready for you!"

"That's lovely, yes." Fairy Godmother says, still frowning. "And Red, you've got all your books? Everything you need?'

Red lifts her chin. She's not just a passive observer, even though whatever's going on with her royal roommate's missing brother sounds horrifically fascinating. "I'm all set. Wonderland post sent my books last week."

"Lovely, lovely. I'll see you two in class tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Fairy Godmother." Chloe chirps, bobbing into a half-curtsy before she moves away.

Red will not curtsy, but she dips her head in the vague shape of a bow. "Goodnight."

"So." Red says, once the two of them are out of the dining hall and on their way back to the dorm room they're going to be sharing. "You've got a brother?"

Chloe looks at her sideways, without moving her head. "No. I've got a Chad."

There's a particular darkness in her voice at the name, like how Red wants to say Jabberwocky sometimes, when they've been especially bad.

"I take it you're not a fan." Red says, because it's stupid to ask questions, but she's the princess of Wonderland, and she should know her neighboring kingdom's royal families. "Is he really awful?"

"The worst." Chloe says lightly. "He's not at home right now, though, so we've all had a bit of a rest."

All?

"All." Red repeats. "How big is your family?"

"Big enough."

It's dumb to play evasive word games with a Wonderland girl. "Big enough to fill a carriage?"

Chloe sighs. "Bigger."

"Big enough to fill a limo?"

"Bigger, if you're counting everyone."

"I'm asking you to tell me about your family, Auradon girl," Red says, leaning in towards Chloe, making it a flirty request, rather than a desperate dig for information. "Aren't you guys supposed to love talking about yourself?"

Chloe shoots her a certified look. "My family is weird. You don't need to know about them, it's just...my brother is off on a mission to find himself, or something. He graduated in the same class as King Ben, so people are still going to ask about him, because one weird girl who plays with swords for fun isn't enough for the royal gossip tabloids."

"Swords." Red drawls. 'Very royal."

Chloe huffs out a tight little breath. "Yes, swords. I'm on the ROAR team. Royal Order of Auradon Regiment. We practice running through obstacle courses with swords for fun, and I'm actually really good at it, so please, please don't make fun of me. I know I'm not a very proper princess, but I really do love it, and my mom doesn't care what I do so long as I don't mess up my face, so just-- just stop it. I'll tell you about my brother if you really want, just..."

"Swords are cool." Red blurts, before she can think twice about it. "Your brother sounds like a lame-ass anyway. Tell me more about your sword game?"

Stupid, stupid. Asking about her sports team? Super lame behavior. Not cool at all, Red.

Chloe looks up at her through her lashes. "You're making fun of me again."

Red's heart skips a little beat. She's not sure if it's from shame or the huge, embarrassing, terrible crush that she's trying really hard to squash. "I'm not. Promise."

"It's okay that you are. Everyone does, once they hear about my hobbies," Chloe says softly. "I'm not cool like my brother, or popular like my sisters. I'm the youngest child in my family, so everyone babies me all the time anyway. I don't mind it usually."

She's twisting her hands together, looking down at her fingers. She's not wearing any royal rings or anything. Red's been wearing rings since she was a kid, to show her status and to punch people better. She wouldn't know what to do with hands that are so soft and naked. Does she hold them? Give Chloe one of her own rings? Tell her she's an idiot for declining any symbols of her royal status and get her mother to give her at least a small family ring?

"I'm not actually a very good princess." Chloe says after a moment. "I just let people tell me what to do all the time. I just follow the rules and practice with my sword and read a lot of books. I'm not brave like my mother. You're probably braver than me. Coming to a new country, a new school, all by yourself... that's really brave."

"Thanks."

Chloe's eyes are enormous. "Yeah." she whispers, soft and sweet and so, so close to Red. "I think you're really brave."

Red lifts a hand to touch her roommate's cheek. "Brave enough to hear the truth about your brother?"

Chloe's face falls.

Red's heart sinks right along with it.

"No. You don't want the truth anyway, it's boring." Chloe says, turning around to unlock their door. "Anyway, I'm sure everything is boring compared to Wonderland, so I won't make you listen to me any longer. Goodnight, Red."

Their door shuts before she can come up with a comeback.

Fine. If her roommate won't tell her what's going on, Red will just have to figure it out herself.

The next person to ask about Chloe's alleged brother gets an even less helpful answer.

"I lost him." Chole says sweetly. "At sea. We went out on the yacht to celebrate his graduation, you know, after the...incident."

The student nods seriously. It would be stupid to roll her eyes, but Red's patience for these delays is short already, so she does it behind Chloe's back. Really subtly.

Chloe bobs her head in a little nod that could almost be serious, if she didn't look so pleased about it. "Yeah, so we were out on the ocean, and he just fell overboard. We lost him. Mom threw him one of the inflatable life rafts, but you know how Chad is about accepting help, so once it hit the water he just started swimming away. At the rate he was going, he's probably in the Southern Isles by now."

It happens again.

"He's at home, helping mother weed the library. We have a curse, you know. Roses keep growing in the fiction section, and it takes all hands on desk to clear it out." Chloe says, flashing the girl a bright smile. "The only reason I'm exempt is because mother and father don't trust me not to solve the problem with my sword.”

The girl frowns. “Chad, weeding?”

“Oh, yes. He wouldn’t usually, but mother asked him specifically. He’s really a mother’s boy at heart. It’s sweet how much he’d do for her.”

Red watches the girl digest this.

“Aw. That is sweet.”

Chloe beams. “Isn’t it? He’s just the best. I bet if you run to the library now you could understand just how he feels right now, surrounded by all those books.”

And again.

“He’s joined the astronaut training program.” Chloe says. Her face is set in a very serious expression, which is only fitting considering that she’s talking to the head of their math department. “We haven’t seen him in ages, but he’s supposed to be on the moon base soon, so every time we look up back home we wave to him. It’s a new Charmington family tradition.”

“That’s very nice, dear.”

“If you want to join the SpaceChad fan club you can go to the royal media page our sister set up,” Chloe says sweetly. “It’s online under SpaceCaseChad dot com. There’s lots of good pictures.”

Their teacher pinches the bridge of her nose. “Very nice story, Chloe. I’m sorry I asked.”

“Princess Celeste puts a lot of work into it.”

“I’m sure she does. Now sit down so you can learn some theorems.”

Red looks the page up.

It’s full of press pictures of Chad Charming, the only Prince of the Kingdom of Charmington, heir apparent of the second biggest kingdom in all Auradon, poorly edited to look like he’s floating in space.

And wearing cat ears.

The animated sparkle in his eyes is a nice touch. Red appreciates the sort of effort that goes into these things. The effort that’s been put into adding a tiny rocket ship under his boots is less impressive, but the way that the rocket bursts into animated flames every fourth edit is much funnier than it seems the first time you scroll past it.

She’s starting to think that her roommate might actually be on to something here.

The fifth time it happens, Red's pretty sure she's in on the joke.

Before Chloe can come up with another smartmouth answer, Red gasps. The student who asked this time is some girl in a cheerleader uniform, and she looks like an easy target, so Red throws her whole body into it. Mouth open, eyes wide, and a gasp so theatrical even her mother would be proud of it.

"You can't just ask that!" Red gasps, sweeping an arm around Chloe's shoulders. "Oh my gods, why would you even ask when it's still so fresh?"

The cheerleader gapes. "I— what—?”

"You don't just ask a royal family member what happened to her only brother," Red snaps. "It's not done. My mother could have your head for it. Chloe, are you okay?"

Her roommate is shaking in her arms. Red's never tried to be a good person, but there's a feeling building in her that might be what goodness feels like. It's sort of like when she drinks the special unbirthday tea that she’s not supposed to touch, and a little bit like when she's in on a secret with her mom. Giddy, that's the feeling.

The cheerleader's hands are on her cheeks now. "I didn't mean any harm, I'm sorry. Oh my god, Chloe, I'm so sorry. Is he okay?"

Chloe's face is buried wholly and completely in Red's shoulder, and she's a warm, comfortable, shaking weight that's making it hard for her to think straight. There's so many horrible things that can happen to a prince, and only so many ways to say it...

"She doesn't know." Red says, pulling Chloe in a little tighter so her giggles can't spoil the illusion. "The last thing she knew he was visiting friends in Fairyland, and then he started sending letters written on leaves instead of paper, and now..." she hesitates.

"Now?"

"He just sends the leaves." Red finishes.

The cheerleader gasps. “I bet there's pollen all over his beautiful hair too!"

Seriously?

"We can only assume." Red says, face just as solemn as her mother's court isn't. "It's a real shame. The fairies want a princess on a milk-white horse to get him back, and she's got to ride in on the darkest night of the year too. Holding the moon in a jar as her guide."

The girl looks about five seconds from whipping out her phone to write the lies down. "A real princess? Or would like, a pop princess work instead? Chad always said how much he loved Marcielle Lance. I bet he'd love me forever if I sent... I mean, if somebody tipped her off that the Prince of Charmington needed her to save him from Fairyland."

"The letters didn't say." Red shrugs. "But it never hurts to try, I guess."

The cheerleader is practically vibrating. "I've got to go make a— I mean, get to class! Thanks, though!"

Red lifts a hand to her retreating back. "Buh-bye.”

Time travel vertigo is a pain in the butt to recover from.

Red falls into Chloe as soon as the world stops reshaping itself around them.

Chloe shoves her off. “Where are we?”

“More like when are we.” Red corrects, staggering upright. “And I think the answer is not far enough. Look, that roof looks exactly like it does now.”

“It’s a roof.”

“Yeah, and all the fancy pants brochures that you sent to Wonderland while we were sealed off from the rest of the world show that roof looking different than it does now. In our current time. Because it’s new, princess. We got brochures about replacing it.”

Chloe closes her eyes. Red can see her breathing slowly, and stifles a grin. Her roommates hates being wrong, which works out great, because Red loves seeing her royal highness mad.

“We can’t be here. We have to leave, now.”

“We just got here. The watch has a cooldown time of one minute for every year travelled. We can’t leave yet.”

“No, we have to leave.” Chloe grabs Red’s hand. “My bother is here. This is two years ago. He’s going to be here, on campus, and he’s going to recognize me, and our whole cover is going to be blown if we alter time in ways we weren’t expecting!”

Oh, no.

“No,” Red says slowly, stretching out her words around the grin that’s threatening to take over her whole face. “No, I don’t think we do have to leave. After all the stories I’ve heard about this brother, I wanna meet this guy.”

“You don’t.”

“He’s an Olympic level swimmer, an astronaut, a curse-breaking mommy’s boy, and he was interesting enough to get kidnapped by fairies? I can’t wait to meet him.”

Chloe stomps her foot. “You know that’s not true. I make all that stuff up, because—“

“Because why, princess?”

“Because the real reason is boring.”

Red glances down at the pocketwatch. One minute left until they can leave. “After growing up in wonderland, you think I don’t like boring? My mother is trying to stage a coup as we speak. She raised me on a diet of all-excitement, all the time. I want boring. I love boring. Please, for the love of time, give me something boring to think about until we can get out of here.”

Chloe glares. “No.”

“What?”

“No. I’m not telling you. The longer we stand here arguing the closer we are to getting out of here. I don’t have to tell you, I just have to stall until we’re out of time.”

“Bold words from the girl who’s not carrying the time machine.”

“You want to get out of here just as much as I do,” Chloe says, logically. Oh, how much Red wants to hate her. “You’re not going to leave us here, in the wrong time, just because you want to know where my brother’s hiding.”

Red leans in. “Hiding, huh?”

“You—“ Chloe slaps a hand over her own mouth. “I’m not saying another word. We can’t alter time before we’re supposed to, it’s too risky.”

“Twenty seconds. Tick tock, princess. I could leave you here if you won’t tell me.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“You don’t know what I’d do.” Red hisses, leaning in so close that she can see the way Chloe’s eyes are tracking the motion of the pocketwatch. Her roommate’s eyes are pretty. It’s not fair that she’s got such an awful habit of keeping secrets to offset her pretty face.

“I’ll tell you,” Chloe offers. “But only once we turn the watch.”

“Deal.”

“Now.”

Red cranks the watch, but carefully this time, so that her fingers don’t slip before they’re ready and send them another two or three years back.

“You’re sure you want to know?”

The watch is hot in her hand. The dial is shivering under her fingers. “Yes, I’m sure.”

Chloe throws an arm around her waist, and grabs the watch out of her hand. “He shaved his head and got too embarrassed to show his face in public!”

#my fic #descendants #descendants fic #chloe charming #red hearts #chad charming is technically Sir Not Appearing in this ficlet but he’s important just trust me :)#he’s…..probably not dead :)

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seaside-writings · 1 month

Text

Well, well, well! Hello. all you lovely people! It's been a hot minute since I did one of these lol.

As you can all probably tell, I've been dragged kicking and screaming back into Gravity Falls by "The Book of Bill." Because of this, I wanted to make a prompt list from all of my favorite lines of darker dialogue from the book.

Now I know this book is filled with dark dialogue from front to back, but these are the ones that stood out the most to me, and I know they stood out to others as well.

I hope you all enjoy this list, and if you use any of these prompts, please credit/tag me so I can come check out what you’ve created!

I hope you all stay blessed and safe throughout your day.

Lots of Love & Wishes: Celia 💙△💛👁️‍🗨️🖤

P.s. I did add some lines from the Axolotl’s poem I just felt like they fit well in this mess.

"Until there was no one left but me, covered in blood, alone in the universe,"

"Turn back while you still can, or live forever with the regret,"

"It infects other books!"

"Any regrets about causing the apocalypse?"

"Blame the arson for the fire."

"It's not with it. Trust me. You have to trust me,"

"Love is a trick and worst of all it's a trick you play on yourself,"

"Even his lies are lies,"

"I don't want to die alone,"

"I'm broken wanna fix me?"

"Once you kill with one of these, it becomes a "serious straw,"

"This book has no codes,"

"They don't even consider for a single moment the sheer improbability that they got to exist in the ONE timeline where they kept all of their bodily organs,"

"Maybe one day in the future all their good luck will finally run out,"

"I've peered into the souls of the madmen, but this was the first time I'd been in a mind that was collapsing like a neutron star,"

"Your world is controlled by dark invisible forces that need to operate in the shadows to maintain their power,"

"Some desperate part of him seemed to be trying to heal himself, hoping to weld his memories back together like one of his robots,"

"For the first time, I felt a kind of pain that wasn't hilarious,"

"Nightmares about trying to wash blood off her hands that never comes out,"

"Recurring nightmares about overhearing a fight between his parents he wasn't supposed to hear. Why do you think they were in such a rush to get the kids out the door for the Summer?"

"A single spark from the memory inferno hit me, and a hole sizzled straight through me like a laser through butter,"

"And if I ran into any symbols, I'd be ready,"

"Their screams getting louder and louder."

"Listen not to his lies!"

"And he tended to rip out journal pages that had anything to do with his issues with others… especially me,"

"Is my strange way of seeing the universe a gift or a curse?"

"Is loneliness just the cost of greatness? And if it is… how long am I fated to endure?"

"On your own, you're a bunch of sepia-tinted nobodies destined for the dumpster of history,"

"Although the day had begun with us as strangers, it ended with us as brothers, bonded by vengeance and a newfound hatred,"

"Someone had reversed the Shaman's spell and had summoned me back! Who would it be?! A genius? An idiot? Oh. Oh my goodness me. Yes. It was both,"

"Can you collect them all before the end-times come?"

"How about that; you've got an inferior clone! Why didn't you just eat him in the womb? Think of how powerful you'd be!"

"Assemble all seven collectibles to open the seal,"

"The perfect weight to kill a man,"

"Says he's happy, he's a liar,"

"I grow maddened."

"A different form, a different time."

"He looked distant, more distant than I'd ever seen him before,"

"By a monster."

"He laughed joylessly,"

"It would eat you alive."

"Trust no one,"

"As the chanting grew louder, the forest was suddenly engulfed in flames, screaming laughter echoing, and then- I awake on the floor, gasping for breath,"

"I could see in the third dimension,"

"But being special comes with a price,"

"I've shut down the portal! Damn it all!"

"My mind reels from horror and humiliation! How could I have been so foolish!?"

"Saw his own dimension burn, misses home, and can’t return."

"I was wrong about everything!"

"Break my bones if you must, but you cannot break my will!"

"No, I won't give him the satisfaction! Instead of destroying my work, I'll destroy him instead!"

"That's because I've been knock-knocking your skull against the wall!"

"Has he done this before?? How far would he go?"

"I keep coughing up spiders,"

"My heart was in my throat until I heard the dial tone… the pay phone was out of order. The message hadn't gotten through,"

"You're my property. Don't forget it,"

"You gave me your blood, You let me into your mind!"

"From the graves around me arose a horde of cackling cadavers eyes aglow,"

"Why are you doing this?! Why won't you just leave me alone?"

"Without me, you'll always feel unseen, surrounded by dolts who don't recognize your true potential,"

"You've always felt alone in a crowd, haven't you? Who else will give you this feeling again?"

"Even if you got rid of me, you'd miss me. Admit it, you'd miss me,"

"The hillbilly abandoned you, your father won't want you returning without millions, you have no friends, and if you died out here in the snow. who would even miss you?"

"I have no one else,"

“I awoke from the hallucination, heart pounding, to find myself back in my living room, clock ticking, record skipping- and began to weep,”

"What if… he mocks me? What if he sees that I abandoned our family to become a recluse on the brink of madness?"

"Where did you all go? WHERE DID-"

"Shame is a powerful emotion. But if grows even more in the dark,"

"I thought I was protecting my family, but I was really protecting myself… from humiliation,"

"No, they mean nothing to you!"

"Because no matter what the idiot counselors in this smiling cage say, I don't need anyone, I never have, and I don't miss any of them!"

"I'm fine,"

"This morning I awoke to find my knuckles bloody and sore. He must have been punching and scraping the steel door like a caged animal all night in a frenzy to get in,"

“Someday… someone… will let… me… out,”

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stayxlix · 2 months

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below the cut is a little bit of otde han's background.<3 (ft. minho, before either of them met the others). its just something that popped into my head, but if this isn't what you'd envisioned for their backstory then pls feel free to ignore lol. i love all of you very much, i see your asks, they mean the world to me, and i promise to get to each and every one of them. i also hope to be able to release more for this story soon.💕

wc: 2.3k

warnings: violence, fighting, injury, blood, language

Han Jisung's head hurt.

A splitting headache. The kind where every beat of pain sent sharp streaks of light flashing across his vision. The cheering crowd—a chaotic blend of voices that felt like a hammer to his already pounding skull—had him fighting the urge to double over. But, when he really thought about it, Jisung supposed the fact that that the crowd was cheering for him made it worth enduring.

Standing in the center of the fighting pit, Han Jisung lifted his aching head. He gritted his teeth, peering through the haze of pain to cast a lazy smirk in the direction of the spectators. And, as expected, the noise surged.

Mugs of warm ale sloshed as the onlookers swayed in tandem with the rhythmic chanting of his name. Among the sea of faces, Jisung locked eyes with a particularly dreadful-looking man in the front row. The man's teeth were yellowed and broken, and a leering grin spread across his scarred face as he raised his mug in Jisung's direction.

Jisung's smirk grew into something wild—as sharp and untamed as the danger that lurked beneath his charismatic exterior. The acrid scent of sweat and spilled ale mingled with the metallic tang of blood in the air as Jisung inhaled deeply—senses heightened by the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

Oh, his head was throbbing now. It very well might have been the worst headache of Han Jisung's life, but he was certain he would never get enough of this. This life, this moment. Though he didn't know any of these people personally, they knew him—knew his name and the reputation that came with it in the underworld beneath District 7.

With the feral smirk still dancing on his lips, Han Jisung cracked his bandaged knuckles, the sound echoing in the dim light of the pit. His dark eyes gleamed with challenge as he tilted his head to the side. With a single flick of his wrist and an inward curl of his fingers, Jisung beckoned his opponent forward—an invitation.

The burly, muscle-bound man before him emitted a low growl in response. His massive fist—nearly the size of Jisung’s head—clenched as he surged forward with a powerful swing. But Jisung was a predator in his element, reflexes honed to utter perfection. With a mere pivot of his heel he slipped effortlessly out of the path of the oncoming blow.

Keeping his movements lazy, Jisung slipped his hands into his pockets. "Is that all you've got?" he drawled, voice dripping with an arrogance that had always been just as much a weapon as his fists.

The cheers turned deafening in response to his taunt. But as Jisung fought the urge to bring his hands up to cover his ears, an unexpected call from an unfamiliar voice in the crowd sent a jolt coursing through his frame.

Somewhere above, a stranger shouted, "Let’s go, Ji!" and that simple nickname—Ji—so casually tossed into the air, struck a chord deep within him.

Memories of a time before the pits crept into the edges of Jisung's consciousness. Despite the foolishness of it, he cast another glance upward. The sea of spectators blurred, and a face flashed vividly before his eyes. A face from his past, one that now existed only in his memory. A ghost amidst the living.

Absence pressed against his chest, the reminder of a past that stubbornly refused to fade. But Jisung wouldn't allow himself to dwell on the past. Not now, not ever. Because he was Han fucking Jisung. His very existence was a testament to survival. And he was too viciously cunning, too dangerously charming, and too goddamn good at carving his way through this hellish excuse for a world to let himself succumb to grief.

So Jisung blinked away the face from his past. The face that wasn't really there at all. He blinked once, twice. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to focus on the present, and it was in that fleeting moment of distraction that his opponent seized the opportunity to deliver a powerful strike to his jaw.

The sudden impact sent a shockwave through Jisung's senses, snapping him back to reality as pain erupted from his bottom lip. It was the second hit he'd taken that night.

Two hits. Two rare lapses in his otherwise flawless defense.

The first had been a single, calculated blow that Jisung had purposely allowed the man to land to his temple, sparking the beginning of his headache.

The second punch to his jaw may have been unintentional, but Jisung hadn't flinched at either of the two hits. No, he welcomed them. He craved the warmth of the coppery blood as it pooled in his mouth, savoring the reminder of his own mortality. Not because he was some kind of sadist, but because Han Jisung had someone to see.

Behind a tattered black curtain in the stuffy underground cavern where the fighting pits lay, there was a young man with skilled hands and a quiet sort of intensity—a healer who called himself Minho.

In exchange for a portion of Jisung's winnings, Minho would discreetly tend to his injuries at the end of each fight. And if that meant Jisung would, at times, deliberately allow his opponents to get in a few hits...Well, whose business was it anyway? Longer fights meant bigger profits, and with Minho's skilled hands to patch him up afterward, Jisung was more than willing to oblige.

Feeling a sudden surge of determination at the thought of what—or rather, who—awaited him at the end of his current fight, Jisung decided enough was enough. He spat out a mouthful of blood, grimacing at the scarlet droplets on the dusty ground. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing the stickiness across his skin. He cocked his head, and with a series of devastatingly accurate jabs to his opponent's weak points—followed by a well-timed sweep of his leg—it was a matter of moments before his nameless opponent lay sprawled on the ground in defeat.

A pouch of gold coins tugging heavily at his waist, his signature smirk plastered across his face, Jisung climbed out of the fighting pit with practiced ease. He pushed through the densely packed crowd, ignoring the outstretched hands reaching for him in celebration as he began to make his way across the bustling den.

As Jisung walked, his gaze swept over the faces of pretty young men and women—many of whom he recognized. Among them were individuals who had once been the recipients of his fleeting affection. Some still held in their eyes the simmering desire to fulfill his every whim, their stares following him with hungry longing. If he tried hard enough, he could still hear their voices, how their words had dripped with honeyed praise as they’d pleaded for his attention. A select few had even begged him to run away with them. Claiming to hail from the infamous District 9, their promises of endless wealth and material possessions were spoken with such fervor that it was almost convincing. Almost. But in those moments, Jisung had only chuckled, dismissing their lavish promises with a smirk before fully indulging himself in their company until the first light of dawn.

As tempting as it may have been to give in to the allure of those past desires again tonight, Jisung maintained an air of charming indifference as he continued on. He flashed grins and casual nods, and though his eyes might have lingered on some of the prettier faces, he kept moving.

With a determined stride, he pushed through the tattered black curtain into the cramped alcove where Minho worked.

The healer’s lips twitched up ever so slightly, as if he'd recognized Jisung from his footsteps alone. However, as he turned and his gaze lifted from his small workbench to Jisung's battered face—as his eyes roamed over the split lip, the trickle of blood staining Jisung's temple—the subtle warmth in Minho's expression vanished. Concern and something like disapproval flashed across his eyes before his features settled into stone once more. "Do you get paid more if you make the fight look real?" Minho asked, his eyes flicking down to the pouch of gold at Jisung's side.

Jisung blinked, caught off guard. It was unusual for Minho to initiate conversation, let alone be so direct. Surprise colored his face as he took a seat on the cot beside the healer. "You were watching?"

"I watched until you allowed that guy to hit you," Minho's voice was soft as he examined Jisung's temple. Leaning in slightly, his brow furrowed as his fingertips traced the contours of the wound. He reached for a clean cloth, soaking it in a solution that carried the faint scent of medicinal herbs and something acidic.

"How did you know—" Jisung hissed as Minho pressed the cloth to his wound, the sting causing his eyes to water.

"Relax," Minho interrupted, "You're not the only one who knows how to read a fight, you know."

A flush crept up Jisung's neck as his next attempt to form words turned into a series of awkward stammers. He opened his mouth, closed it, cleared his throat, and squirmed uncomfortably on the cot until Minho snapped at him to stop moving.

Eventually, for what might have been the first time in his life, Jisung gave up on speaking altogether.

Minutes slipped by as Minho continued his work, the only sound the soft rustle of bandages and the hum of activity beyond the curtain. Jisung sighed, closing his eyes as he allowed himself sink into the familiar routine of Minho's care.

"You need to be more careful," Minho murmured, his voice breaking through Jisung's reverie. "I can only patch you up so many times before the damage becomes permanent, and.." His hands suddenly withdrew, putting a pause to his work. "I won't be around here much longer."

Jisung's heart skipped a beat, his eyes snapping open. "You're leaving?" he asked, the words coming out a bit more panicked than he'd intended.

Minho nodded, his gaze dropping to avoid Jisung's stare. "I never planned on staying here long,” he admitted quietly. "There might be others out there who could use my help."

Jisung's mind raced as he processed Minho's words. Despite his suspicions about the healer's origins, he'd never asked how Minho had learned his trade. And sure, he supposed there were plenty of people out there who could benefit from Minho's skills—people who weren't deliberately getting themselves hurt—Jisung knew all too well the cutthroat nature of the world. The brutality of the outer districts.

"Where will you go?" Jisung's voice trembled with desperation, and he didn't give a damn if it made him look weak. Vulnerable. Jisung had grown accustomed to the routine of visiting Minho after each fight—the quiet moments of conversation with someone who wasn't chasing after him for their own benefit. Someone who genuinely listened and understood him. He'd come to rely on Minho's steady presence more than he cared to admit, and suddenly, the quiet healer felt like a lifeline slipping away.

Minho offered a slow shrug, and a familiar sense of absence settled over Jisung as he realized that Minho's departure would leave yet another void in his life. "I'll miss you," Jisung blurted before he could stop himself.

A softness touched Minho’s expression, a glimpse of sadness reflected in his eyes. "I know, Jisung.”

"When?" Jisung demanded, “When do you leave?” Though he was fully aware that Minho owed him nothing, he needed to know.

"Two days, maybe three." Minho replied, his tone gentle yet firm—resolute. As if he had been planning this. As if he had known for quite some time. As if leaving Jisung behind meant nothing to him at all.

Jisung withdrew the pouch of coins at his waist and held it out. The healer's dark eyes narrowed in confusion as he glanced between Jisung and the pouch. "What are you doing?"

"Take it," Jisung insisted, his jaw set in determination. "For everything,” he swallowed, the pouch shaking with the slight tremor in his hand.

Minho hesitated, shoulders tensing. "You've already paid me for—“

"You'll need it more than I do out there. I know that bracelet on your wrist holds more value to you than coins. So just take it." With a decisive thud, Jisung dropped the pouch at Minho's feet. He stood, and as some fundamental part of him cracked so violently that he could feel it in his chest, Jisung turned away from the quiet healer.

For the weeks Jisung had known him, Minho had healed far more than his external injuries. He had been a constant. The only constant left in Jisung's life. There was nothing Jisung wanted more than for Minho to understand the depth of his gratitude, to recognize the significance of his presence. But the words stuck in his throat, suffocated by his own damn pride and stubbornness as he took a step to leave.

Reaching to push aside the curtain, Jisung hesitated, his hand hovering in mid-air as he considered the path he'd chosen. The chaos of the fighting pits and the thrill that came with a life spent in the underworld had been enough for a long time. He’d settled on the notion that it might always be enough. But now..What if there was something else he needed? Something he couldn't quite name but felt stirring within himself. The desire for something more. A desire that Jisung feared would continue to grow and gnaw at him until he found the courage to explore what lay beyond the underworld of District 7.

In that moment of uncertainty, it was Minho who ignited that spark of courage in Jisung's soul as the healer stood, cleared his throat, and said, "Come with me."

#otde #thank you for reading.<3

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brain-amoeba · 1 year

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hiii, medic literally getting turned on while he’s healing you cause you’re whimpering and moaning in pain cuz ur injured 🤭🤭

anon cinna ☕️!!

i can be normal about this request i canbe normal i can b //foaming at the mouth

Katze und Maus (Medic x Reader) part 1/?

Your memory of the mission and how exactly you got your injuries escaped you. You felt as if your brain would leak right out of your ears if you thought about it too hard. Rather than add to the torture you've endured thus far, you buried the thought back in your mind. You figured it would creep back into your psyche again at some point, and probably at the absolute worst time to boot. Soon enough, the sound of your own thoughts were drowned out by sharp, approaching footsteps causing you to instinctively turn your head to the source of the noise. You were greeted by Medic, whom smiled back at you a little too innocently. Sheepishly, you return his greeting with a small wave, and resumed your previous position on the examination table. You watched in anticipation as Medic hummed to himself while gathering his necessary instruments, and ensured the proper rigging of the Medigun. As your eyes met, the triumphant device unrelentingly stared back down at you from its mount. As you zoned out while peering into the barrel of the Medigun, dizziness and disorientation from blood loss, as well as the sheer pain of your injuries began making themselves apparent.

An echoing, metallic "thud" signaling your now slouched over body had met the examination table prompted Medic to your side almost immediately. Medic hastily propped you back up and made work to fasten your neck with a strap to ensure your head didn't drop to your side and possibly injure your neck. After securing you in place, Medic repeatedly slapped a gloved hand against your cheek in a prevailing attempt to wake you. You were startled out of your unconsciousness and soon felt the painful restriction around your neck as it abruptly interrupted your flailing resistance. Medic looked down at you fondly despite your apprehension. "Calm down, you. Would you rather I left you limp with a broken neck?" The doctor questioned, his tone pitched with slight annoyance. You remained silent, staring up at him with pleading eyes as your consciousness reminded you of the bloodied, painful state your body was in-- a deep gash in your side, numerous lacerations on your limbs, and a fractured ankle.

Ouchies.

Medic's annoyed expression quickly softened upon meeting his gaze with yours, and awkwardly cleared his throat before beginning his procedures. Despite his cautious and deliberate touch, the gravity of your injuries only heightened your sensitivities. As the German doctor took your injured ankle in his grasp, you couldn't help but cry out a pathetic whimper from the bolt of agony that shot through your nerves. Your breathing became labored and nervous beads of sweat adorned your forehead like sickly jewels. Medic, of course, was simply enamored with your current state. To him, your cries of pain were as beautiful a melody as that of an operatic aria. Medic quickly snapped back to his duties, and finished rigging your ankle into a stirrup to not only elevate it, but to keep it out of the way of your remaining injuries. The pain of no longer having Medic's firm yet gentle grasp to offset the weight of gravity upon your ankle, especially in a stirrup, caused you to wince yet again, still as vocal as last time. "Doctor…a-are you sure you can't like…put me under or something?" You asked desperately. You were only able to hoarsely choke out a few words at a time between shallow breaths. Medic, whose face was now flushed, spoke with his back turned to you. "Nein, schatz. The procedures will not be intensive and will therefore not require the use of typical anesthesia. Es tut mir leid, maus*." His tone was professional, but the growing erection straining against the fabric of his trousers was anything but. "Be a good little mäuschen and hold still, ja?" He now turned to face you with surgical grade instruments in hand. The menacing gleam of steel taunted you as he began dislodging shrapnel from your open wounds. With each scrap and bullet that was removed, you answered with whines, desperate cries, and tears wetting your face. Medic attempted to conceal his arousal by retaining a neutral exterior, but the way his usual steadied precision seemed to elude him today left you wondering.

Now, you always knew that Medic was a little off his rocker, but figured that came with the territory of such genius. However, in spite of your less-than-lucid state, you were still able to pick up on the irregularities of your doctor's behavior. The sharp inhales every time you winced, the light flush that colored his cheeks, and the weird stiffness with which he moved, as if hiding something… Surely the sight of blood wasn't causing him to act this way, right? He is a doctor after all. The clinking of the discarded shrapnel into a metal dish pulled you from your own thoughts and you soon made eye contact with Medic again. "A-are we done yet…?" You ask meekly. Medic scoffed in response. "Done? Mäuschen, I've just barely started. All I've done is remove the debris from your wounds. Now the real treatment begins!" Medic chuckled, a hint of mania beneath his jovial exterior. He left you alone momentarily to remove his soiled gloves and wash his hands. In his absence, you couldn't help but watch his weird, rigid gait while he made his way to the sink and giggled to yourself. "Why is he walking like that? He wasn't even out in the field today, so it can't be an injury." You thought to yourself.

Your naivety was endearing, honestly. As he approached, you could have sworn you noticed a strange bulge. You quickly darted your gaze back to the wall as your face burned with embarrassment. You didn't realize just how intensely you were staring at your practitioner's groin, but he in fact did. "Hm? Something catch your eye, maus?" His teasing only drove the knife of humiliation in you further. Before you could defend yourself (Hi, I'm Saul Goodman, did you know that you have rights?) Medic cut the fabric of your shirt to reveal the bloodied gash that interrupted the otherwise supple flesh of your abdomen. The chill of sterility and sudden pressure from Medic's gloved hand upon you elicited yet another pathetic whimper. "Oh, mäuschen, the things you do to me when you sound so helpless!" He mused, squeezing your wound in attempt to get another cry out of you. Fat tears rolled down your cheeks as you wailed in agony, blood spurting from the wound in response. Your scarlet life force stained Medic's arms and face, and you swore you witnessed him lick his lips to taste you. "Mein gott, I almost don't want to fix you up. You're so beautiful just like this…" Medic dabbed up the fresh blood with cloth, and did the same to the rest of your open wounds. "…But we need you in working order on the battlefield, ja? Plus…" He closed the distance between the two of you, his face mere centimeters from your own. He began to remove the strap that once restrained your neck, whispering in your ear while doing so, "…I wouldn't get to hear the sweet music of mein geliebt vogel if you were dead, anyway!" The proximity between Medic and yourself left smears of your own blood on your face--and though you've suffered many injuries and were no stranger to gore, in this context you shuddered.

(* "I'm sorry, mouse".)

#tf2 medic x reader #tf2 medic #team fortress 2 x reader #team fortress 2 #tf2 x reader #tf2 #medic tf2 #team fortress 2 medic #requests #anon cinna

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annwrites · 2 months

Text

—simple man

oh, take your time, don't live too fast. troubles will come & they will pass. you'll find a woman, yeah, & you'll find love. — halfbrother!dean x lilhalfsis!reader ; ⊹∴※

He drags the chair away from the antique wooden desk across the room, seating himself heavily as he watches your slender side slowly rise and fall—occasionally jerking due to you quietly crying.

He looks down, nervously rubbing his thumb against the callused palm of his left hand. "I get it. We all do. We've all lost somebody. Hell, more than. And a lot like the way you did."

He sighs, glancing to the window—the tattered curtains—wondering how long it'll take before you're on Bobby's case about replacing those, too, so the room can seem more 'homey'. He smiles at the thought, eyes roaming back to you.

"When Sam and I lost our mom—when she died..." He stops, swallowing.

He's never had anyone to talk to about it. Not really. Not even Sam, because he wouldn't remember. No. This is yet one more burden he's been forced to carry alone.

His eyes trail along your body and he knows you must feel the same: like no one understands. Not even your new 'family'. But he does. God, how he wishes like hell he didn't.

"Sam was too young to remember. Still just a baby. Our mom, she woke up—middle of the night—to check on him. And there was a demon standing over his crib. But it was late and she was half-asleep. She thought it was our dad. Until she realized it wasn't."

You've stilled, listening intently, your sobs quieting.

"When dad found her... She was pinned to the ceiling in his nursery. She burned to death. And there was nothing he or I could've done to—to stop it."

He flexes his jaw. "We lost everything that night. Only thing we had? The clothes on our backs and dad's car. That's it."

He leans back, folding his arms, shrugging. "So, we went on the road. Started living out of motels while dad spent all his time trying to hunt the thing down that killed her."

He's quiet for a moment before continuing. "I understood it. Even then. Even as a kid. But I resented him sometimes. For leaving the two of us all alone like that. Forcing me to play not just older brother but...but the role of a parent, too, to Sammy. Now? I think I'd have done the same."

He leans forward again, clasping his hands, heart hammering in his chest as he watches you—wanting to gauge even the most minute of reactions as he finally admits it, owns up to it.

"That understanding only truly sunk in after we met. After I finally took the time to get to know you. See, if something like that happened to me? Something evil came along and took the woman I love away from me? A woman that's good, and kind, and gentle—that's everything I've needed for God knows how many years, even if I refused to admit it? I'd stop at nothing until I got my revenge. There's nothing I wouldn't sacrifice to achieve it.

"You think you've lost everything. But, sweetheart," he says, sliding his hand along your soft hip, gripping it securely. "I'm right here."

the day you meet sam & dean is simultaneously the worst day of your life.

the two young men find you cowering in a crawlspace in your house—your brother, adam, & mom, kate, had become something malignant. inhuman. so, you'd hid in terror, unknowing of what else to do—what was happening to your family & what they were doing to your home & why.

unable to see any other choice, even if dean argues against it, sam brings you with them, refusing to leave you all alone. especially knowing that you're one of them—at least half a winchester; their little sister & last child of john.

they take you to bobby's so you'll be safe, have four walls, a roof, & someone to look after you. something you desperately need after the incredible trauma you've endured—including learning that monsters do really exist & you now have two half-brothers who hunt them down & kill them.

to distract yourself from the realities of your new life, you set to work on bobby's house—cleaning from sun up to sun down, cooking him three meals a day, & baking in-between. you become, essentially, his own personal chef & maid.

you're quiet, & sweet enough. just...incredibly sad.

sam is kind to you, bobby quickly becoming the dad you never truly had—adam had always been john's favorite between the two of you—while dean keeps you at arm's length, eager to be rid of you sooner than later, knowing you'll inevitably become yet another responsibility that he never asked for.

but, every time they come to visit, the house is cleaner—more pleasantly decorated—with hot meals waiting for them, along with fresh apple pie & a smile. even a quiet 'welcome home' from your lips to greet them.

before long, dean more than warms to you. in truth, you become all he's able to think about to the point that he'll drive three states away to hunt, only to turn directly back around...so he can return to you—reluctant to be away from you for too long. terrified you'll forget about him, or replace him altogether if he is.

because the truth that he refuses to admit, even if sam & bobby have both attempted to lecture him on it, is that he wants you. that he...loves you. & he can't let you go. he won't.

not now, when he needs you more than ever as the apocalypse is on the horizon & he feels lost every which way he turns—unless he's with you.

headcanons:

dean initially keeps his distance from you. for a long while.

you spend every day deep-cleaning & getting rid of old junk & broken furniture. & bobby just lets you have at it, bc it seems to help you & he doesn't mind when he sees that you clearly have a vision in-mind for the place.

sam is friendly & warm toward you.

bobby is quite paternal.

eventually, dean softens toward you when he finds you crying alone in the house one day. he holds you in his arms until you calm. he can't go back to being a dick to you after that.

dean tends to stare at you a lot. half the time, it's just because he zoned out while doing so or because he's fantasizing.

bugs you about when you're making apple pie again.

tells you awkwardly how you're doing a great job with the place.

appreciates immensely that bobby has someone to look after him now.

likes how domestic you are; something he's not had since mary died. honestly? it kinda gives him a sense of safety.

enjoys when you hum or sing around the house.

likes that you smell like a mixture of honey & lavender.

thinks it's cute when he makes you blush from his indirect flirting.

picks you up dumb little souvenirs while on the road.

one night you fall asleep downstairs reading on the window seat & dean carries you up to bed. but not to your own.

cleans out the trunk of the impala just so he can take you grocery shopping at least once.

when you start getting new furniture for the place, dean helps put it together. tells you to make yourself busy baking him pies if you want to repay the favor. has half-a-mind to make a sexual innuendo instead about repayment, but refrains.

knows you're itching to get the basement cleared out, so he just starts carrying stuff up one day. sam silently helps.

until they find some old toys of theirs & get distracted—like rock 'em sock 'em robots.

he comes across an old selectric, which you're over-the-moon about, until you discover it needs a new ribbon. you quickly deflate, until one is waiting in a box the next morning on the porch that dean made sam overnight ship to bobby's.

is shocked as hell by your reaction to them finding a box of old rock cassette tapes "gimme, gimme!". also turned on as hell, though, when he sees you shaking your hips to ac/dc as you make them dinner.

you have no interest in hunting, but dean thinks it's important you learn the lore.

he also gives you some training. which is honestly just an excuse to touch you, or get you on your back.

like the time he has you pinned to the floor by your wrists while he "innocently" grinds his hips against yours with a smirk.

"ok, you can let me up now." he shrugs. "make me." he leans down. "or maybe you like this position."

totes plan for their first kiss to be similar to the delena one. they'll be at a motel, bc dean has been bugging her to accompany them on one hunt (which translates to her staying at the motel while he & sam go get the job done). she's lying next to him, unable to sleep & when she turns her head, he's already awake & staring at her. he gently takes her hand in his, but then she gets up & goes outside. he follows & they kiss passionately.

she's hesitant about things, at first, due to their relation.

after all the shit dean has been forced to deal with & go through, though, he couldn't care less. he's finally found something good & pure & like hell he'll just let it go.

sam & bobby comes to reluctantly accept it. and that reluctance eventually turns into happiness for the two of them.

dean is her first time.

he's very protective & gets jealous easily when other guys flirt with her that come to the scrap yard to buy parts.

he's kind of terrified of the same thing happening to you that happened to his mom & jess.

has nightmares about it sometimes.

when he does, he often ends up calling you in the middle of the night just so he can hear your voice & know that you're okay.

likes when you wear his clothes.

#annsideas #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester imagine

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loserchildhotpants · 2 months

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My mother is looking for me.

I silently went no-contact a few months ago.

Years ago, when I first went no-contact, I announced that that was what I was doing, and it does occur to me that I didn't owe her an explanation then, just as I don't now. There is an aspect to me that has changed since the last time I went no-contact, though. I'll get to that.

My mother and I were extremely enmeshed for most of my life. Several counselors have referred to the relationship as covertly incestuous, and that stands to reason, actually. I hate it, I hate that terminology, it feels gross, but in retrospect, so does my relationship with her, it's just hard to see it as gross, or the source of such enduring discomfort when it's all you've ever known. So, I definitely didn't see it for a long time, it's hard to see the picture from inside the frame. When I look back, though, her behavior is deplorable.

She was less like a mom and more like a friend, and the thing was, she was a shitty friend.

In summation, she was wildly inconsistent; at times, she rose to the occasion and was what I needed, when I needed it, but those times were rare, and minimal in the face of all the rest of the time when she *commanded* me to be and do things like, rub her feet while she cried about my father's limp dick, or she'd start whining nasally while smacking me with her naked feet, talking about how mean I am to her.

She was always so angry in the face of a boundary. I was maybe 9 or 10 when I had to ask her to stop kissing me on the mouth when I was going to bed, and she got so upset with me. She asked sexually or medically invasive questions, and would often bully me and make fun of whatever the answer wound up being.

She openly bullied my sister, and favored me, and it was really evident that if I held fast to boundaries like my sister did, she would retract her love, just as she had with my sister.

She pit us against each other our entire childhoods, she's been manipulative, vindictive, and careless. She has facilitated some of the worst events of trauma and abuse I've suffered in my life, because her having fun or being perceived some specific way by other adults meant so much more to her than her kids being safe.

So, she's not motherly, she's not a nice friend to have, she is mostly a highly reactive child that needs constant gentle-parenting, and will not be held to account for anything she feels makes her 'look bad.'

All this to say, she can't function in any capacity for me that is worth the risk of the injury I incur when I'm around her. She is the elephant's foot of mental illness to me; the closer I get, the longer I stay, the sicker I become.

She's poisoned her entire side of the family against me, she'll tell basically anyone that will listen that I'm a pathological liar who inexplicably hates her for no valid reason, that I'm mentally unstable, and that she's clearly failed as a parent since I turned out so horribly.

On top of all this, we are morally antithetical to one another. At a fundamental level, what I think it means to be a good person has nothing to do with what it means to her, and there's no compromising that.

I used to feel great anxiety at the prospect of never speaking to her again, I used to wrack my brain for a way that this could be a failing on my part, because if it's my fault, I'm just a bad daughter, maybe I can fix that.

I've made myself so small for her, I trimmed so much down, and masked the rest to look how she wanted it to, and she was *still* unhappy with me. There's nothing I can do to secure her love, it's too conditional, and frankly, I don't want to perform like that anymore.

So, when separating by any degree, no-contact or low-contact, over the years, I'd feel anxiety, self-reproach, guilt, shame, but I don't feel that this time - or - that may be a lie. I *do* feel those things, just not in the quantities I have before.

Mostly, though, I feel badly for her.

Things weren't awful all the time, she wasn't *always* terrible, and in fact, with my father living and breathing under the same roof, she was still my only remotely functional parent. It's not as though I don't have love for her - I was born with love for her. It comes naturally, inherently.

I keep thinking to myself that she didn't think life would turn out the way it did, and she must spend a lot of time very sad about that.

When she calls my sister, sobbing about how she can't seem to contact me, she's not crying because she misses me, she's crying because this wasn't how the story was meant to go.

As enmeshed as we were, and as masked as I was to her, she was unmasked to me, and I think I know her pretty well.

I think she lived under this impression that the high's of life were all that mattered, and if she just avoided thinking about things that caused her discomfort, they wouldn't happen; she'd be young and hot forever, she'd always be the most popular girl at school, the most likable boss bitch at work, she'd have this air of Dignified Woman about her, she'd be super lucky just the way she was born, cultured, well-traveled, charming, upper-middle class, and life would *look* a certain way.

But she didn't invest in the future, didn't save anything, spent wildly, and we lost our home in 2008. Soon after, she divorced the man she'd spent 30 years with, the both of them hating each other the entire time. Then her eldest went no-contact, then the ex-husband needed to do the same, and then her golden mini-me, her youngest 'abandons,' her just the same.

So, she doesn't live a lavish lifestyle with cosmopolitan friends on the Upper East Side, she works 3 jobs in Florida that she'll be working til she's in her 70's, her ex-husband won't risk being near her because he has minimal contact with their kids and feels that consorting with her will pass whatever contagion she has onto him and he'll lose what crumbs he considers a successful relationship with his daughters. (The guy also thinks he's a Good Father for not having beaten us regularly, so his metrics about what is quality is pretty questionable)

In her head, she had this idea - she'd marry this really handsome guy, and her love could Fix him, y'know? He was so angry, so sad, so 'damaged,' and they had such great physical chemistry while they were young, she'd make it work, so they'd *look* great together. He'd work a particular kind of job she got him (and he did, for 15 years), she'd work a high paying job too, and still do all the housework, keep everything trim and pretty, including herself and her kids. We'd be a perfect family unit, beautiful to look at, unburdened by profound societal despair or existential thinking, we'd all be socially acceptable, and lovely, and she'd retire at 60 with comfort, if not a friend in her husband than a partner at least, she'd certainly never feel alone, and that's not what happened.

Her family unit fell apart, because nothing meaningful was holding it together. She might argue that love was holding it together, but if the love is conditional, that foundation will invariably, eventually fail.

I think that's why it's not enough for her that she has all of her blood relatives rallying around her, validating her perpetual victimhood, telling her how much of a martyr she is, and how wronged she's been. The sympathy is fine, but it's not lasting, and that pitying attention may sustain her for a while, but then she's alone again, sitting in the ruins of the future she built for herself, not wanting to look inward at all, because to her, accountability is tantamount to personal attack. She won't look inward the same way she would never self-harm.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. I get it. I get that, at 66, it has to be fucking heart-rending to look back on one's life thus far, and take stock, and think 'no, no, no, it wasn't supposed to be like this at all!'

It doesn't really matter that her expectations weren't rooted in reality. She maintained them, and so she's disappointed.

It's a sad affair, the entire thing. I feel badly for her. She thought she'd be young and hot forever, she thought the family unit she built and birthed would owe her complete, unwavering fealty, she thought she'd be so much more comfortable than she is, and here she is, full enough of self-pity to drown in it, unable or unwilling to recognize that she is the only one that can save herself.

It's not like she's at the end of her life or anything, if she wanted to change herself, and her life, and what it looks and feels like, she could do that. It would take focus, discipline, and frankly a lot of therapy, but it could be done. It's not like the wrap up music is playing.

Still, it won't be the life she dreamt of for herself, and when I think of her, I see this injured child, red-faced crying over dashed hopes. It's sad.

I need to stay away, because if I get near the crying child, she begs me to comfort her, and then scratches, punches, and claws at me, screams at me that her misery is all my fault, that I'm the one that abandoned this child and she'll never forgive that, she'll never forgive how heartless and cold I am, and all of that hurts very much, because she's *not* a child, she's my mother, and so when she says these things, yells, cries, transfers all that onto me, it wounds me.

My mother is looking for me, and I can't let her find me. At least, not right now. I don't have the emotional bandwidth for that sort of interaction right now.

There's no point to this really. I just had to put my thoughts down somewhere.

#personal #long post #melanie lives #parental relationships heh amirite fellas ?

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caliburn-the-sword · 1 year

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ranking ouat characters by how likely they are to lose a finger in a swordfight

preface: i'm gonna be poking fun at these funky little characters for fun, but i really appreciate how the show gives them distinct fighting styles!!! it both sets them apart both literally and by personality, as well as setting them up for interesting fights as different characters are pit up against different characters!!! that's really cool.

now, before i start, YES, a lot of things are gonna sound like an innuendo. get your laughs out about it now. if you make a dirty joke, i promise i will be in your walls <3

anyway, as i've mentioned in a previous post, my experience in swordfighting is in using wooden training sword , which weighs just under a kilo. i typically use this for the fancy, pretty looking stuff like patterns. in actual sparring, i'm using what's essentially a plastic pipe covered in foam which if i had to estimate weighs a quarter of a kilo MAX). a proper real metal sword, depending on the length, is gonna be somewhere just under or over a kilo. so contrary to all your fantasy novels or movies, you're not gonna pick up a sword and be like "oh shit that's heavy i can't even heft it up". you will very easily be able to pick up that sword. it only becomes heavy once you've done a lot of swinging it around, carried it for a while, etc. adrenaline can carry you through maybe the first three minutes, and then your exhaustion will hit you, and then you're gonna be carried by your own endurance primarily, but yes this does build strength so believe me when i say that all the ouat characters are canonically quite strong (but you didn't need me to tell you that lmao).

Last place: David

HIS SWORD THROW IS SO IMPRESSIVE. you will most likely end up very unarmed having missed the enemy and very at the mercy of your enemy who still has their sword. luckily for him IT WAS COOL AS FUCK that i won't be considering that a point of deduction, ESPECIALLY because he would have hit regina if she couldn't teleport.

now let me just say, his circle work??? very good indeed. he can take multiple enemies in a fight. he absolutely will NOT trip over his feet and get killed in that way.

now, i understand the flair for the dramatic in big, overarm swing type movements. i've got two concerns: first of all, how far he extends his arm when swinging his sword. he's opening himself to get his hand cut off, getting stabbed, etc. secondly, when you extend your hand that far and suddenly have to block a strike??? it's essentially the strength of your arm vs the strength of your opponent's ENTIRE body. you do NOT want that.

he also has a tendency to blend hand to hand combat with swordfighting, yikes. when swordfighting, a main advantage is your REACH and how much DISTANCE you're able to keep. david is essentially throwing all that away to get closer and throw in a couple elbows. he's gonna get himself very stabbed that way.

occasionally, he also does a big spinny thing and can i say PLEASE don't turn your back on your opponent you're ITCHING to get stabbed. interesting note: when he uses a two handed grip, he tends to swing like a baseball bat.

judgement: at best, he's lost a hand. at worst, he's dead.

Killian Jones

not even 0.5 seconds into his first fight with rumpelstiltskin, SIR WHAT WAS THAT WINDUP??? YOU'RE NOT THROWING A BASEBALL. after that he's got a decent fencing style. he keeps his free hand close to his body, where he doesn't risk it getting cut off. i'm concerned when he advances that he makes his stance TOO long. since this is a one on one fight, that's fine, but if he was fighting multiple people at once he would be taken out by being TRIPPED. that said it's still good that he advances and places pressure on his opponent. solid technique. HELP HE JUST DID THE WORST GLANCE EVER. rumpelstiltskin's sword was STILL UP and KILLIAN WAS ALREADY LOWERING HIS SWORD. THIS IS HOW YOU GET SLASHED IN THE CHEST. random wide swings???? i appreciate that he ACTUALLY aims for vital points, unlike literally everyone else on this damn show. killing someone pretty much stops YOU from getting killed, so his survival prospects have just increased despite everything.

killian has a GREAT ability to disarm his enemies. disarming your enemies = not being killed.

his movements in his fight with emma are ALL wide and dramatic. is he showing off???? i hate to say it but if YOU have a sword and someone is trying to tackle you, you should STAB them so that you don't risk losing your sword, impaling yourself, or your opponent getting your sword. horny bastard.

HE DID A DRAMATIC SPIN. JAIL. and wasting time gloating?? surefire way to give your opponent opportunities. he's lucky emma was never aiming for the kill to begin with, and was quite inexperienced.

we see VERY wide swings in the neverland arc too.

does not have a very strong stance when fighting blackbeard </3 killian being capable of using his hook to reinforce blocks by placing it down the edge of his blade is AMAZING. i don't know how to explain this, but when you're gripping the handle of your sword with two hands, you are pushing against a single point. when he holds the handle with one hand and braces the other end of the sword with his hook, the force is more evenly spread, making it stronger. the only way i can think of achieving that with two hands is by bracing against the flat of the blade, and by god i am NOT risking that EVEN tho it's just a plastic pipe covered in foam LMAO.

idc about the context you are absolutely NOT striking towards someone's feet. don't do that. very impractical, even if you're trying to force them to step somewhere.

anyway he's pretty decent at taking multiple opponents at a time, tho i do prefer charming's circle work.

judgement: this is so long BECAUSE HE'S SO DAMN INCONSISTENT. i noticed that past season 5 he gets back to being more consistent and fency. so i think it's during high emotional states when he starts going wide. unfortunately the big thing with fighting is you gotta be able to BALANCE your emotion or you're gonna slip up like hell. i REALLY wanted to rank him higher than i did (it was honestly very close between him and snow white) because like i mentioned, he doesn't hold back and has great disarming skills, however i find him too inconsistent to be reliable. catch him on a bad day (he has a lot of those) and he's sloppy. so yeah.

Snow White

she doesn't have as many swordfighting scenes as other characters, but she's quite promising. i won't fault her for kicks, even tho i personally wouldn't risk it, because she isn't getting up close and personal like an elbow would (looking at david). she has a tendency to get low, which like major no no. mega yikes. you lose all your reach with that. i'd like to commend her for being able to get BEHIND her enemies quite often. anytime you can manage to NOT be where your opponent is pointing their sword is a pretty good one. however she also likes to spin, and you know how i feel about that. she doesn't swing too dramatically (like the others before her on the list), and she tends to put more of her body behind her slashes and parries rather than using her arm to tank it all which i really appreciate. i also REALLY noticed her grip (in a good way). mainly because i couldn't watch her footwork. that goes hand in hand with my previous point, you gotta have a good grip to put your body behind in strikes. i would say her biggest risk is getting her hand chopped off, but otherwise i reckon she fares quite well.

Number 1: she's an icon, she's a legend, and she IS the moment Emma Swan

really appreciate emma also managing the sword toss. anyway, tbf what i'm judging rn is one of her earliest swordfighting scenes GIRL DON'T DUCK UNDER A SWORD?? DON'T GET LOW FIRST OF ALL, AND SECONDLY IF YOU MISJUDGE YOU LOSE YOUR HEAD. please DODGE or PARRY or BLOCK. emma has the same big swinging problem as david. IF YOU LOSE YOUR SWORD DON'T GET CLOSER GET FURTHER. IDC HOW MUCH YOU WANT TO GET YOUR HANDS ON HOOK, THAT'S A GREAT WAY TO GET STABBED. then she CRAWLS (turning her back on her opponent) for her sword instead of JETTING IT. girl a sword is gonna do you no good when you're ON THE GROUND YOU CAN'T SWING OR STAB FOR SHIT. now if you pull up the clip and see her FIRST strike once she gets on her feet again, first of all: SHE WASN'T EVEN AIMING FOR ANY VITAL SPOT SHE SWUNG LIKE HALF A FOOT FROM HIS HEAD. secondly that grip is giving me second hand embarrassment. what is that.

next significant swordfight we see is with gold in season 4. her fencing-like stance?? cool. she is NOT leaving her torso or neck open to any stabbing whatsoever. she kept her free hand close to her body for a SIGNIFICANT portion of that fight which is AMAZING. homegirl is NOT risking her hand getting cut off. slay. also, when she's going for power, she has a two handed grip and puts her ENTIRE body behind the thrust. very impressed. she's also got GREAT footwork and she is putting PRESSURE on gold by advancing and pushing him back.

now, in her fights with gideon, she does a lot of very awkward and stiff two handed grip. girl PLEASE do not get lower to glance off, step to the SIDE. she falls back into big wide swings but she was going through something. i KNOW that's contradictory to what i said about killian, but EVERY other time she has powered through and this is the exception.

judgement: as much as i was making fun of her, we only see a few blunders most of which she was always going to survive because of how big a simp hook, not to mention those were within her first few DAYS of having a sword. she then went on to become who i think is the best swordfighter in the whole show, so emma clears all

#rumpelstiltskin doesn't get a spot on this list because i doubt there's a single fight where he gives it his all #i was actually going to judge him but he's literally immortal so there's no point #great now i have to do an analysis of how killian's fighting style aligns with his emotional state #if i had stopped at emma's and killian's first fight scenes #killian literally would have been number 1 #snow would have been number 2 #david would have been number 3 #and emma would have been number 4 #also wanted to rank david higher for the sword toss #snow and david were a lot more static when it came to their fighting styles there was no change #if your fave didn't win at NOT losing their fingers in a fight please don't kill me #ouat #once upon a time #killian jones #david nolan #snow white #emma swan #captain swan #yes i am aware that my poll hasn't actually finished yet but i've decided that suppression of free speech is the way to go #it was the illusion of choice #i was ALWAYS gonna make this post #long post

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storysprite · 5 months

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Madam Klee the Starry Knight

Madam Klee - Tales of the Apprentices (Part 1 of 8):

"Unfair. Utterly unfair!" declared the youth. He and his friends stood before the Knights' Captain with a boldness that not even her worst enemies would dare display in battle.

"Arthur..." sighed the Knights' Captain.

"Klee," replied the youth snarkly. The silver-haired girl beside him went pale white, and the rest of his friends took a step back.

For the Knights' Captain raising her brow was as the summer sun rising to melt the morning frost.

"Arthur, Arthur," said Klee. "You possess your mother's air of grandiosity, but none of her grace. You've been blessed by Barbatos to possess good luck, unlike your father, but have been robbed of the lessons he's learned from his many misfortunes."

"What a great wall of text to call me spoiled," said Arthur, folding his arms and planting his feet firmly on the ground, having not even wiped its soles before encroaching on the newly cleaned carpet of Klee's office.

"We have to use a great many words with you in hopes that some of them will get through," said Klee. "Your ears are more closed off than Inazuma in the old days. But unlike Inazuma, that has since then shone on Teyvat like the Great Star of the East, your light grows ever dim. And with your pride will come a fall that goes beyond even Khaenri'ah."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "We get it. You read."

"And you not enough. Otherwise, you might have learned a thing or to from those who went down the same path as you."

"Is that it?" sneered the boy. "Cause I've passed every exam, written and practical. Yet you still won't let me join the Knights of Favonius, but you have passed all my friends. Even though I've exceeded each and every one of them."

Arthur looked around the office. His eyes landed on a strawberry-blonde girl his age, who sat at a desk near Klee, gleefully working through a mountain of paperwork as though seeing the secrets of the world.

"Her!" said Arthur, pointing at the girl. "What can she do, that I can't? How is Jeanne-Luc a knight when she pushes more quills than iron. And is stained with more ink than blood."

Jeanne-Luc merely raised her head and said, "I have no blood and push more quills because, unlike you, my enemies would rather meet me on paper than on a field."

With that, she retired to her work once again. And Arthur's silence was met only by the occasional puffs of air as his friends tried so desperately not to laugh for his own sake.

"It's because I don't have a Vision isn't it...?" said Arthur. "You don't think I can keep up."

The laughter stopped. Jeanne-Luc laid down her paper. And Klee softened her countenance.

"And this is why we have to use so many words with you, my ever so stubborn Godson," she said, putting a caring hand on his shoulder. "How many times do I have to keep telling you that this is not the reason why?"

Arthur didn't respond. No matter what she or his parents told him, he always felt inadequate for not having a Vision. Unlike his friends, who all got theirs at a young age, mastering their elements year after year, Arthur got only disappointment, year after year. Despite having bested all of his friends in several fights with wit and endurance, he still felt inadequate.

Was he unworthy? Was he so small that the Gods' Gaze could not fall on him once in these twenty years?

(Part 2)

I'll tell you what," said Klee. "A strange violet mist has appeared near Stormterror's Lair. A woman who happened to go by it claimed to see a ghost that said it would drag her to the Abyss. She then came to the Knights the other day and confessed to accidentally killing a man and hiding his body.

Someone else claimed that they saw their old, long dead headmaster holding the rod they used to beat them with. So too, a merchant from Fontaine said that a great and terrible silhouette of a narwhal has haunted his dreams ever since he saw it all those years ago. And-"

"And you're doing it again," said Arthur.

Klee took one step forward and shook the room, sending her Godson back as he caught himself before falling.

"What I'm doing is giving you far too many chances and far more hints than you deserve," she said before letting out a deep sigh. "Find a way to dispel the mist, and I'll speak to Acting Grandmaster Noelle about making you a Knight."

Arthur stood there, dumbfounded.

"Oh, now you've got nothing to say?" said Klee.

"You're... you're not just tricking me? This isn't some stupid—OK, sorry, I'll go." The look on the Knights' Captain's face brought him swiftly to his feet and out the door.

Arthur hurried home, narrowly missing his little sister, as he swung open the front door and rushed up the stairs to his room. He put on his best armour, and from a vault beneath the floor, he drew out a sword from Inazuma gifted to him by a blonde Traveler. It was said to have been blessed by the God of Thunder with the power to cut through mind and spirit and the promise that its blade would never shatter as long as it trusted its owner. And if the bond and will between the two were strong enough, it would transform each strike so that it would be as though its target were hit two times with twice the force.

"Come now, Thunder's Twin. Today you'll turn a boy into a man."

Once again, Arthur hurried through his house, waking his mother's bird with the clamour of his steps. With haste, he made his way to Stormterror's Lair, running without losing breath, invigorated with every stride as though the wind itself blessed his every step.

A great gust blew a branch of Valberry's towards him, falling from the sky. Arthur took it as a sign of his success and added the berries to his pouch.

Eventually he reached the old lair and narrowed his eyes at the sight by its gate. Three girls and two boys his age, dawned in official armour, were standing there waiting for him.

"Really?" said Arthur with an exasperated sigh.

A silver-haired girl stepped forward and smiled. "Surely you didn't want to do this alone?"

"Yes, Frieda, actually I did," said Arthur. "This is MY mission that the Knights' Captain gave to me and me alone."

"That's not how the Knights of Favonius work," said Jeanne-Luc. She folded her arms and added. "But you'd know that if you were ready to join us."

Arthur frowned. "And why is that yoke here anyway?

(Part 3)

"The same reason we all are," said a boy with long, wine-coloured hair that hid his left eye. "Because we're your friends and want to help you."

"I don't need your help," snapped Arthur.

"Maybe not," answered the boy. "But if you did need it, we'd want to be there. That's why we came."

"Actually, I'm here to win a bet," said Jeanne-Luc, smirking. "No shame in giving up Archie. I can even give you a wound and we'll pretend it was a noble defeat."

Arthur turned to the wine-haired boy and said, "Anselm, I swear if you don't keep us apart, one of us isn't coming back."

And so the group of six, divided in heart, made their way deep into the lair. Not knowing that it would not be six that returned...

Lo and behold they saw the great mist that Klee had spoken about before. But were frightened by its appearance. For they could not see it from a distance. But after taking a single step it appeared all around them as though they had suddenly crossed over to a new and mysterious place.

"I-it can't be that bad, right?" Anselm reassured himself. "We're not in serious danger... right?"

"Of course not..." said Frieda, trying to sound confident. "Otherwise Madame Klee wouldn't have sent her Godson here."

"Well, now, I don't know about that..." added Jeanne-Luc.

Arthur was about to respond with a snarky remark, but he quickly found himself unable to speak.

His heart beats faster and faster. Many thoughts he'd long forgotten or buried deep in his mind came flooding to the surface.

And in his mind's eyes, he saw the first time a vision appeared before him. The cold glow of Cryo landed in Jeanne-Luc's hand. From that day on, she had the attention of all the boys in the village and every girl wanted to be her friend. She hardly ever came by his house from that time on, being far too busy.

Again, he saw the time when Jeanne-Luc, Frieda, Anselm, and the others were all invited to a trip set up by some Vision Wielders in the Adventurer's Guild, while Arthur was told he couldn't go. Despite beating one of them in a fair fight.

"The monsters won't fight fair," he was told. "You'll only distract us and get someone killed."

Many such thoughts, memories, and distorted memories flooded Arthur's mind. Slowly sinking him into a pit of despair. And what was just a metaphor came to life in the mist. Slowly, a dark hole in the ground formed and began to grow up and around Arthur. With every creeping moment, he could feel his memory and body fading.

The thought of calling to his friends for help was met by another deep and darker voice: "Don't you see they have their own concerns? You had one mission, and you failed. If you call them now, then no matter what, they'll know you're incapable. No matter what, this will be their memory of you. Free yourself from this hold. Or resign to the Deep. Forget and be forgotten. You will feel no burden and neither will you be a burden anymore."

Arthur looked ahead, and a new terror filled his heart. He could barely see it all, but what he could make out was enough. The silhouette of a dragon appeared in the mist and his friends fought against it with all their might.

Great blasts of light and colour filled the air from the force of their elements clashing with the dragon. But it swallowed the power of their Visions, as though possessed by the hunger of an endless Abyss.

Where Arthur would soon find his home. His rest. Free from the hurt and shame.

(Part 4)

He could call his friends, but why bother? Perhaps they were worried about him, so they couldn't focus on the fight. But if he were forgotten, they'd get stronger and be safe.

Yes. For their sake. For the world's sake... it was better that he disappear into the void.

"I really admire you." This thought came into his mind. "No matter what's ahead, you don't give up. Even if you're headed for a brick wall, you say it won't just be your head, but the wall will have dents too."

Anselm said this to him once. It was the day before being accepted into the Knights of Favonius. "I felt like giving up so many times... But I realised that if Arthur were in my situation, he never would. And if I did quit so easily, I'd never be able to look you in the eye... What I'm trying to say is... thank you for being you."

Again, another memory came to mind. He and Jeanne-Luc were working late in the library two years ago, finishing some chores for Lisa. "Remember years ago when we had that long talk..." said Jeanne-Luc. "The day after, I was thinking about everything you said, and I realised that I didn't have to pretend anymore. That I could just be myself, and it didn't matter what others thought. I was losing my mind before we had that talk. And when I made up my mind to live the way I wanted without having to pretend... That's when I got my Vision... So thank you... But if you ever tell anyone this, I'll end you."

Amidst his own fading, Arthur managed a little smile and began to weep. "How can I lose these memories?" he thought to himself. "And my friends... they need me. But... more importantly... they want me."

A little strength returned to him, and the fog cleared a little. There, he saw more clearly than before the dragon that his friends were struggling to fight.

By its form and figure, he remembered that this was a kind that would not easily be hurt by elemental forces unless faced with a master. Something that none of his friends were. But he always remembered reading about how Vennessa learned the secret to defeating this beast: If a blessed blade covered in Valberry struck the dragon hard enough, it could pierce its skin. After that, even a novice with a Vision could hurt it.

"I just need to get free," he said to himself. Struggling to escape the ever ensnaring darkness wrapping itself around him.

In his mind, he felt he didn't have the strength to undo the bind alone. He had to call for help. But the thought came back to his mind that if he called to his friends in this moment, they'd forever see him beneath them. He'd prove to them that he is as useless as he felt.

(Part 5)

"No!" he declared. "That's a lie! I need them. And they need me. And even if they didn't need me, they'd still want to be there for me."

In that moment, he found all the strength he could muster and was about to yell, "Help me! I'm stuck. I need help. Please!"

But before the words even left his mouth, the darkness broke away from him. Melting away like ice on a summer's day. As though it had no power. As though it never had any power.

Without wasting any more time, Arthur drew his blade, Thunder's Twin, and whispered to it, "Be with me. Trust me as I trust you with my life." There he took the Valberrys and bathed his blade in their juices.

Then, with a deep breath, he ran ahead, as quick as his legs could take him and as fast as the winds of Barbatos would allow.

His friends kept the dragon distracted, and Arthur leapt into the air, with his blade raised high.

With all his might, he brought down the wrath of his sword on the dragon's tail.

One strike came from his own will. But then Arthur felt a second would come to life. The will of the sword that had responded to him. Bonded to him.

And a moment after he struck the dragon, it sounded as though thunder clapped across a cloudless sky on a sunny day. And it felt as though his sword struck the beast a second time.

Cutting through the dragon's nigh-impenetrable skin. As well as whatever fear remained in Arthur's mind.

"Now!" he yelled at his friends. "Give it all you've got, and it will die."

His friends didn't hesitate, and with great bursts of elemental power, they struck the dragon again. Only this time did it give a great cry as elemental energy flowed into its body. Destroying it from the inside, in a bright blast of light, it exploded. Clearing the mist while leaving Arthur and his friends unharmed.

"Bless Barbatos," sighed Anselm as he fell back exhausted. "I don't know how much longer I could go on if you didn't give us an opening."

"For real," added Frieda. "I've never felt so helpless before. It was as if our training didn't matter and we just got lucky."

"We didn't just get lucky," corrected Jeanne-Luc. "We got Arthur, who has been training with swords and not just elemental power."

(Part 6)

The other two boys in the group concurred, and everyone thanked Arthur for his help.

"No, no, trust me," he said. "You all did more to help me in that moment than you could ever expect."

Jeanne-Luc rolled her eyes. "Hey, dork, learn to take a compliment. Do you know how hard it is for me to be nice to you?"

"Aaaand we're back..." Frieda chuckled under her breath.

"My my! That was a sight to behold. I never did get over the simple wonder of an explosion."

The friends turned around to see Madam Klee walking towards them.

"Knights' Captain," declared Anselm, rising to salute her.

"At ease," said Klee, waving him back down to rest.

"Were you here the whole time?" asked Arthur.

"Yes, but at a fair distance," answered Klee. "It would have been more dangerous had I gotten close."

"Why?" asked Frieda.

"....Well..." started Klee, wearing a face of embarrassment that seemed unbefitting of a Captain. "See, Grandmaster Jean brought back this device related to dreams that the previous Grandmaster, Varka had recovered from the Abyss. Ever since I was a child, Grandmaster Jean had warned me not to go near it, as it's particularly potent when it comes in contact with Elves... Anyway, long story short, I brought it out here when I was a child and had unknowingly unleashed this cursed dream energy that became more real the closer I got to it. Sooo... I just thought to myself that if I never came back here and never told Jean... I'd be fine. So you can see what a pickle I was in when I learned that the mist had returned with force... Anyway, I knew its effects wouldn't be permanent... for now at least... And just told the Knights that I was going to use this "creation" of mine as a means to test trainees with the power of illusion... But seeing as you've completely dealt with it for me, we don't need to tell Grandmaster Jean anything."

Arthur and his friends sat speechless and dumbfounded by Klee's words. For in that moment, they got a glimpse at the child their Knights' Captain used to be before becoming the wise and whimsical witch that stood before them today.

"I would have taken care of it myself eventually," said Klee. "But why take an unnecessary risk?"

(Part 7)

"So we basically fought one of your nightmares..." said Arthur.

"Something like that," said Klee.

"And it was still so strong... It wasn't even fully here," said Arthur. "There's always going to be something or someone stronger..."

"Arthur..." said Frieda, concerned that he was going to be hard on himself again.

"No, you misunderstand," said Arthur. "I was always obsessed with being the strongest because I thought I had to do it on my own. But we beat that thing even though it's stronger than us by working together... I realise now I don't need to be the strongest for the sake of strength alone. I just need to do my part to help others the best way I know how. That's all we can do. And we don't do it alone. That's why we aren't the 'Knight' of Favonius. But the Knights."

Klee gave her Godson a cheek-breaking grin. "Finally. Now you get it."

Arthur's eyes lit up. "Sooo... does that mean I can join the Knights?"

"Aaaare you going to tell Grandmaster Jean about this?" asked Klee.

"Nope."

"Then welcome to Knights of Favonius!"

Arthur couldn't believe what he heard. His friends cheered at the announcement. And for his part he tried his best not to imagine that this might still be part of the dream-energy.

Jeanne-Luc was the only one frowning a little. "This all doesn't seem very Knightly..." she said. "Not to mention a dozen or so codes are being violated."

"My dear," said Klee. "When I was a walking detonator that could hardly spell my own name, I was made a Knight."

Jeanne-Luc waved around at the area that just moments ago was covered in a mist of Klee's own making. "And how did that turn out?" she said.

But Klee just gave a little smirk and said. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

(Part 8)

And with that, seven left the lair, returning to Mondstadt. Their hearts united at last.

"Senior Knight Ellin!" called out Jeanne-Luc, waving at the woman ahead of her as they approached the city gates. "I believe you owe me a nice sum of Mora. A bet's a bet and I'm here to collect."

Ellin frowned. "No way, you mean he passed?"

"I told you he would."

Ellin searched Klee's face but it only confirmed the truth of the matter. "Congratulations... Sir Arthur," she said while handing over a heavy bag of money.

"You bet I'd pass?" Arthur asked Jeanne-Luc.

"And if you ever tell anyone, I'll end you," she replied.

As everyone walked ahead, Arthur stayed back a few moments to think about the fact that he was finally a Knight.

And how should he feel now, after all this time to finally achieve what he worked for his whole life?

In that moment, he saw a future where he was constantly chasing after a new thing forever and never truly finding happiness. And in that moment he decided in his heart that he would not live that way or walk that path. Instead he would learn to seek contentment in the present. To protect the good found in each fleeting moment.

Slowly, he opened his eyes and was welcomed by the soft violet glow of the gift that was now nestled in the palm of his hand.

And in that moment, Arthur closed his eyes and held out his hand, opening wide his palm as if to let go of the past... And right after doing this, he felt a new and sudden weight rest on it.

Arthur smiled.

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