Hicanivent - Hicanivent

This year keeps testing me by seeing how much it can throw at me until I give in and kill myself

I have no regrets

Rb if u agree, spread this meme- 😭

Ano

Ok so this might be a wild take but bear with me;

So imagine Modern!AU with the Stan twins and considering what kind of father Filbrick was in the canon and potentially would be in this AU along with the internet and Reddit and podcasts or whatever, do we think Ford would be an incel or not?

'cause I can see the potential of it but I'm not sure if it'd be in-character enough

reblog if you’re gay, shy or a fucking idiot

Name || Advent Calendar 2024 - Day 1 - Frost

Pairing || Post-Outbreak!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary || As winter rolls around, it brings freezing weather in which Joel finds a way to warm you up

Word Count || 2.8k

Tags/Warnings || 18+, MDNI, Explicit Language, Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff Hypothermia mentioned, P in V, Fingering, Unsafe Sex, Outdoor Sex, Established Relationship, Daddy Kink, No Use of Y/N, Age Difference, Size Kink, Creampie, No Beta We Die Like Men, Ellie doesn't exist, Joel is probably a bit OOC

English is not my first language

If you find any grammar or spelling mistakes, let me know so I can fix them

Masterlist

Advent Calendar 2024 Masterlist

The weather was getting colder and colder every single day. Warmer autumn days gave space to harsh winter storms, the nights getting darker. With darkness also came freeze. It was much easier to get sick nowadays and with the lack of medication at their disposal, how can you stay at peace?

On many occasions, you got sick. Both Joel and you, his travelling partner. Lucky for the two of you, it was mostly just a runny nose, sometimes even cough. Still, the thought lingered. What if one of you got severely sick? Hurt? Lost and hurt? There were so many things to worry about.

Joel was getting paranoid once November rolled around. For a good reason, too. After being raided not too long ago, you were left with barely anything to get by with. Food? You could hunt something down. Clothes? The ones you had had to suffice. Medicine? None. Weapons? Two guns and a knife would have to do. It was much harder to survive out there in winter after all, much less find supplies.

Not to mention the Infected. With 20 meters of snow underneath your feet, how could you possibly escape hordes of fungi-covered monsters when you were struggling even without them? They could hear much better as well. Cold air would make each snap of a twig travel so much further than it had when you escaped Boston QZ.

It scared you both. Scared him. Joel was afraid to lose you. He wouldn't handle it after so much death following him around. Especially since it was just a few months since Tess’s death. Even though he wouldn't say it out loud, her sacrifice hurt him more than he'd care to admit. She had been his friend, partner, friend, how could he just forget?

Well, he had you and he wouldn't give that up. He grumbled and complained at first but, now, after so much time, he couldn't find himself to say goodbye. He probably wouldn't do so even once you finally got to Tommy. You were too precious to him.

Another thing was the slowly blooming relationship between the two of you. You were both so used to being alone that just a sliver of attention got you hooked. He lost too many people and the thought of having someone by his side? A flickering wish, now burning bright thanks to your presence.

And you, you who grew up as a future FEDRA soldier. Being all alone in this world, knowing nothing but the cold walls of the school and training, it felt like a miracle to be free, with someone that cared without wanting nothing in return.

You worried too. Winter was quickly approaching and so was the cold. From how quickly nature started changing, you could already tell the coldest time of the year wouldn't go easy on you. It got even worse than you predicted though.

At first, it was just a bit cold. Then came the freezing. Snow was coming much sooner than expected and you were running out of the time to get supplies. You didn't have enough to go through the winter. Your sleeping bags were barely fit for such weather and so were the other clothes.

Joel searched through stores, homes now long abandoned and even vehicles for at least a piece of clothing that would keep you warm. He would like to stay warm as well but he would handle the cold if it meant you were safe and sound. However, it was as if the entire world had burned all winter clothes before the spread of the infection.

Having nothing to warm yourselves with other than the fire, Joel refused to let you be on your own at night. Every time the two of you went to sleep, he would lay down as close as possible, arms wrapped around each other. For body warmth, he'd say. Still, you sometimes felt his length poke your lower back; even if neither of you mentioned it.

In the middle of December, the cold got too much to bear. Even snuggling up to each other at night didn't help most of the time. It bothered Joel. Especially since he started noticing the signs of sickness in you. The lack of warmth and food and excess of stress weren't doing either of you any good. Especially you. You had always been more sensitive to the weather changes and he knew it.

On one of the harsher nights, as the two of you spent the night hidden in a cave somewhere far from civilization, he watched you with keen eyes. It worried him, your state. You were exhausted, stressed, hungry. Your eyes simply watched as he prepared dinner above a fire, barely blinking in fear the meat would disappear.

“You should rest,” Joel mumbled suddenly, eyeing your expression. His deep voice almost made you fall asleep right then but you knew he wouldn't want that. At least without eating dinner first. Even though he wanted you to rest, he didn't dare leave you unconscious without having his arms wrapped around you. It was too much of a risk in his opinion.

He wondered about either of you getting hypothermia too many times and immediately shrugged it off each one. How would he even handle that? Losing you to something like that? Considering their predicament, you both knew you wouldn't be able to save the other one in case something happened. It was mostly why you had been so careful up until then.

“I'm not tired,” you whispered back with a shrug, shifting in your spot a bit to get at least a tiny bit of warmth in. Your eyes closely followed Joel's much bigger hands as they poured the soup-like substance into a bowl before handing it to you. With a muttered ‘Thanks’, you dug into the food without hesitation.

“I'm just cold. But I suppose you already knew that,” you breathed out, the words leaving your trembling lips as a breath vapor. Joel watched as the steam travelled further up before becoming one and the same with the air, its temperatures dropping significantly in a matter of seconds.

With a silent nod, Joel settled for simply watching as you ate, his own dinner sitting abandoned in his lap. He couldn't care less about eating at the moment. Of course, he appreciated all the food you had at your disposal but on that particular night, his mind was elsewhere.

Despite struggling to survive, he couldn't help but think about how nice you looked, all cuddled up in your warmest clothes, your sleeping bag pooling in your lap. Of course you were cold despite having so many things to keep you warm, it was probably the most freezing night yet since winter started. But he didn't voice his thoughts. They would be practically pointless at the moment.

The silence stretched on even as you finished eating. The flame of the fire continued to burn, warming up the bare minimum of its surroundings. From what you felt, it wasn't practically there. Just like Joel's warmth pressing against your back underneath your sleeping bags, it seemed nonexistent compared to the frost coming from outside your hideout.

“Still cold?” whispered Joel, his breath hitting the nape of your neck like ember. It sent shivers down your spine, goosebumps spreading over your body in the way the Cordyceps spread underneath the world's surface.

You hummed in agreement, a soft exhale escaping through your nose before inhaling once more. The action made you huff, the icy air violently pinching your nose from the inside. Taking a deep breath, your lips quickly turned stiff, lacking warmth. You felt Joel grumble underneath his breath, his chest pressing further against your back. It didn't help much but it was something.

For what seemed like eternity in the eternal night filled with thousands of lights, you laid next to each other, trying your best to rest. It was proving more and more futile with every passing second.

Just then, a touch against your covered lower abdomen. It was so subtle, so gentle you barely noticed it. Next came a press against your clothes, the warm hand slipping downwards. Your breath hitched, hot air on your lips a stark contrast to your surroundings.

“This might help,” Joel's voice vibrated in your ear, warming it up for just a second. You heard as he thickly swallowed, almost embarrassed to be doing such things to you in the dead of the night. The unsure words spilled from his lips, almost afraid to voice them, “If you want to, of course.”

He let out a breath of relief at your quiet nod, the shame falling off of his mind now that you agreed to his proposal. His thick fingers slipped underneath the waistband of your ice cold jeans, settling down on top of your mound. He could feel the heat surrounding your body, much more faint than it usually was.

You breath hitched, entire body stilling as his fingers dug beneath your panties, gently caressing the pubic hair on top before running down, towards your entrance. You shivered in his grasp, too sensitive to his advances after such a long time without relieving all the stress from your body. Although he didn't properly touch you yet, you were already quivering.

You had missed his touch. It had been so long since he did so. It was too dangerous, too risky; and he refused to risk your health and wellbeing just to get laid. He had his priorities straight.

Your breath shook, a silent gasp on your lips, as his fingers dipped inside you. The familiar stretch felt delicious. So familiar yet still able to take your breath away. Especially once he hit that special mushy spot inside you. It made your head spin, stars dancing in front of your eyes from how good it felt.

You heard his heavy breathing right next to your ear as his fingers worked to bring you to climax. His hips softly rutted against your backside, desperate for some action as well. Joel was patient though.

Besides, he enjoyed preparing you. Seeing the delight in your expression, your entire body melting thanks to nothing but his hands and tongue. There was something utterly captivating about it; about knowing how easily he made you give yourself over to him and only him. He loved knowing you were completely his and only his.

“Ya like that sweetheart? You like how my fingers feel?” Joel hummed into your ear, a smirk grazing his lips as you nodded. You let out a moan, eyes closing blissfully, once his lips connected with the back of your neck. His teeth dug into the soft flesh, sucking the flesh in as he shifted in his spot. A part of his body pressed you against the ground, it being a comfortable weight against you.

“Y-Yes daddy,” you whispered, eyes falling shut as you arched your back. Squirming underneath him to get his fingers to that one spot which made you see stars, you whined. The knot in your stomach was getting tighter, almost painfully so.

Your actions and words made him chuckle, the sound vibrating from deep within his chest. In his opinion, you were adorable like that. So needy and desperate for him, a complete mess underneath him. He would love to keep going, to tease you and edge you until you were a soaking mess, begging for him to bring you to your high. However, Joel was pent up just as much as you were.

You whined as soon as his fingers left your tight wet heat, slipping out with a squelch. You were about to sit up to look at him, a bit too ready to beg for his attention. Before you could however, his hands pinned you down against the bottom of your sleeping bag. You felt his weight press against your back, his thighs on both of your sides. A bit of shuffling and his pants were pooling at his hips, just like yours.

You didn't have time to react before the head of his cock pressed against your entrance, nudging against it to get in and hide in your tight hole. It slipped into you quite easily, you leaking more than you had in a long time.

The penetration took air away from your lungs. His cock felt much bigger on the inside than it seemed on the outside after all. For a second, it was too much to bear. Even after so many times you had felt him inside, you needed a moment to adjust which he'd gladly give you.

“Fuuuuck…” he breathed out, head falling back. He loved the way you gripped him, milking him before he even started moving. The squeeze on his cock felt heavenly, your walls fluttering around his hardness in a way that made his cock twitch and breath hitch.

How you could feel this nice, he wasn't sure. It was as if you had been made for no-one but him, your body and soul intertwining with his own. It was at those moments of vulnerability, when he was deep inside, holding onto each other, eyes connected, that he felt closest to you. It was then that nothing else mattered. Nothing but you.

He bottomed out into you with one swift movement, settling in comfortably. He didn't move until you gave him a sign, allowing him to proceed. When he did, both of you let out a sigh of relief. You both needed that. Wanting to be even closer, he laid down on top of you, keeping some of his weight off of your body. His own body pressed you down, his chin resting on top of your head, his hips still pistoning in and out of you.

You moaned and quivered underneath his weight as he whispered praise into your ear. He told you everything he knew you liked to hear. How good of a girl you were. How nice you felt. How you were taking him like a champ, better than anyone he had had. How much he loved you.

He did. He did love you. More than anyone. Even though he didn't admit it nor mention it too much, it was true. More than you could possibly imagine. During those little moments of unfiltered passion, those were the ones when he told you over and over. It was almost as if you'd leave him forever if he didn't.

That thought had always lingered in the back of his mind. Would you leave him? You had every right to. He wouldn't even blame you. He was too old for you. Too rough, too broken by the world. He had seen too much to ever heal.

You on the other hand? You were an angel walking amongst mere mortals such as him. A perfect doll, unaware of the pain and suffering of the world. Of course, he knew you were of it but compared to him, you were innocent. A bit too innocent for such a life. And despite everything, you stayed kind and selfless. He didn't deserve you. He knew it.

However, looking down at you, he knew the truth. He wouldn't let you go. Not without a fight. You were his and no-one else's. He'd do everything he could to make you happy. To see your smile and the light in your eyes when you looked at him during dawn.

The connection between you was overwhelming, threatening to swallow you whole. Hands intertwined, you turned your head to meet his gaze. There was no crushing lust which made you jump into his lap. There was simply pure, unadulterated adoration and love that promised nothing but eternal devotion. Joel looked at you like you had hung the moon and stars themselves.

With a groan and a sigh, you both reached your peak, his seed coating your insides. You collapsed onto your sleeping bag, flushed and panting, as his softening cock slipped out of you. You barely registered what was happening even though you felt it so clearly. Joel gently cleaned you both up before fixing up the clothes around your body. Pulling you into his arms, his face hid in your hair.

“I love you,” Joel whispered, his breath hot against you. It warmed you, definitely more than before. He had been right, it actually helped. The body warmth you shared was more prominent, making the cold not as unbearable.

“Love you too,” you retorted, a tired smile on your lips. You were tired, sleep coming to you easier than it had in a few days. Yawning, your eyes fluttered closed. Joel's arms tightened around you, a heated blanket upon you. It lulled you into sleep after than either of you expected and, for once, you could actually ignore the frost surrounding you.

a writing competition i was going to participate in again this year has announced that they now allow AI generated content to be submitted

their reasoning being that "we couldn't ban it even if we wanted to, every writer already uses it anyway"

"Every writer"?

come on

Oh my, this is so beautifully written??

It's been a while since I read something on these two and I'm so glad the first fic after that time was this<33

You didn't disappoint, hope I'll read more angst like this from you<33

I very much recommend reading<33

and if you go, i want to go with you.

⋆ ౨ৎ˚ ⋆ ˚ synopsis: the sister of the empire has died, the emperors subsequently follow. (2.1k)

⋆ ౨ৎ˚ ⋆ ˚ contents: death, depictions of dead bodies and decay, mourning, buckle up for this, intrusive thoughts, angst, suicide, heart attacks and brain hemorrhaging

⋆ ౨ৎ˚ ⋆ ˚: caracalla x sister!reader x geta

⋆ ౨ৎ˚ ⋆ ˚ a/n: making my comeback with something sad!! let me know how you feel about this, as i’m slightly unsure of it! thank you all for being so patient with me, it truly means so so much to me!! a few people wanted angst, and i hope i delivered it properly!!

my masterlist!

the halls have begun to stench.

down the hall, next to geta’s chambers, the doors to their sister’s chambers are thrown open. through the doors, caracalla can see her body, cloaked by a white cloth. his hands wrap tighter around the flowers in his hands, thorns digging into his hands, yet the sting is dull. he hasn’t felt much since she died, flowing through his days as if he was stuck in a wine bottle, slushing around.

he can see geta’s hunched form, laying over their sister.

the moon illuminates the room, casting a light over the now abandoned room, dust covering the untouched surfaces. he can see the jutting of geta’s back through his night robes, the bumps of his spine protruding out as if he was the one dead. they’re the same robes that he had worn when they found their sister, curled into her bed, her soul ascended to the heavens.

it was no murder plot that took her life nor a fit of rage or a sudden spark of depression. no, it was her brain, physician after physician had been dragged into the room, crinkling their noses as they studied the deceased empress, gently pointing out the slight swelling of her head. they had murmured about blood pooling in her skull, leaking from a burst vessel.

even now, a week later, they cannot move her body.

there’s a pile of vomit next to her bed, rotting into the carpet, a sign of her struggle. next to it lies a pile of fabric she had been messing with, giggling about dresses and shawls. it pains him, to stare at the multitude of projects and hobbies littered around palatine, forever frozen in time. incomplete and forgotten. even now, in her bed, with the slight sheen of blistering and bloating, foam leaking from her nose as if she had a cold, caracalla cannot help but think she is beautiful.

he knows geta thinks the same.

even now, lingering at the door and trying to ignore the stench of his rotting sister, caracalla can see how geta holds her as if she’ll awake any minute now, clinging to her like a small child. his hair is matted from his refusal to bathe, darkened by grease as he curls into the side of the bed, refusing to leave. at night, when he sleeps in the room next to geta’s, desperate to be close to his siblings, caracalla will even hear him talking to her, crying pitifully.

but who is he to judge?

at night, caracalla curls deep into his bed, mourning the loss of his anaticula. the bed is no longer warmed by the sleeping body of his sister, seeking out comfort in the dead of night while geta works. no longer do the halls smell of berries and flowers, the curtains drawn tight as the smell of her body fills palatine. no longer does caracalla have support against geta, no one to run to when their brother gets mean. at night, he’ll cry into his bedsheets, trying to cling to the lingering scent of her perfumes.

the servants have left alongside their mother. all that is left is the two of them in their grief, guarded by the praetorian.

-

rome mourns the loss of their empress alongside the brothers.

a darkness spreads over rome, the streets no longer bustling with life and activity when the news breaks. the games are indefinitely paused, any celebrations or parties getting lost in the wave of grief.

banners are hung over every window, aristocrat or commoner in remembrance of the now late empress. a procession is led through town by the praetorian guard once her body is removed from palatine, getting taken through palatine. deification had started later, with an uncanny wax version of the empress being presented in the temple.

when they first see her, the brothers cannot look away.

not while an uncannily similar version of their sister rests upon a bed of ivory and gold, dressed in her finest robes, gold and jewels strewn over her body like garland. a laurel wreath is wrapped around the figure’s head, large and commanding of attention as people pour in to pay their respects. on the left side of her body, the senate sits, cloaked in black as they stare ahead while the brothers sit on the right, dressed in their mourning robes. their outfits are eerily similar to their war uniforms, cloaks dangling off their shoulders with gold plates pressing into their chests, yet instead of white, they’re dressed in black fabric.

on the final day of mourning, geta is the one to seal his sister away, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead before the bier is whistled away.

-

they break tradition.

there is no cremation, no pyre that raises to the skies and carries the scent of death throughout rome. instead, their sister is embalmed and entombed within the pantheon. neither of them see her body before it’s put in it’s tomb, still intact. however, caracalla is cursed to see it while her tomb is getting shut, a glass pane spread over the top of her coffin, her face staring back at him before the door is slammed shut.

he pukes in the pantheon, nasty, gagging sobs leaving his mouth as the image of his sister’s embalmed body sinks into his eyelids.

that night, caracalla dreams of too dull eyes and pale skin.

-

geta becomes cruel once their sister is gone.

he’s a mean shell of a man, screaming and launching items at caracalla as if he were a stray dog, haunted by the ghost of his sister. at night, he sees her still, curled into her side of the bed, head swollen with blood leaking out of her lips. he cannot move once the phantom joins him, unable to move or talk. he stays awake until the day breaks, the illusion of his sister disappearing once the light begins to seep into his room.

everywhere he goes, he sees her. phantom laughs echoing through palatine, flickers of tan skin and curly hair running through the garden, whispered proclamations of love flowing through the library. catching glimpses of white dresses running around a corner, forever out of his reach.

her death keeps him awake, constantly aware.

paranoia seeps into his chest as he continues on his duties, waiting for someone to take advantage of his weakness, waiting for the inevitable knife to slice through his chest. he cannot look at caracalla, haunted by his eyes that shine the same way their sister’s did. he pushes for more military invasions, not wanting to spend anymore time with the mourning look in general acacius’ eyes when they meet, pushing back any attempts of consolidation. geta wishes for pain, for suffering.

he wishes for sleep.

one night, he lies next to his phantom sister, mind sluggish with exhaustion and grief. the room is swelteringly warm, silence pressing into his chest as he thinks back to the warm nights he’d spend with his sister, sitting out on the balconies and watching rome, unbothered by their duties outside of their relationship.

and he wants to do it again.

he wants to loosely braid his sisters hair as she looks at the stars, stumbling through the stories of her day as she basks in the warmth of rome’s nights. he wants to bury his head in the junction of her neck and shoulder, to feel the comforting scratch of her nails in his hair as he cries. he wants to hear uncontrollable laughter and the slight rasp of her breath as she sleeps.

-

he finds himself standing in front of her tomb.

the pantheon is empty, bare of it’s vestal virgins and priests, the moonlight seeping in through the windows, illuminating her tomb. his fingers dig into the stone as he pushes the door open, ignoring the loud creaking and dragging of the door.

his sister stares back at him.

if he didn’t know better, he’d assume she was stuck in her coffin, still breathing. heart still beating. she looks like nothing had ever happened, like she never rotted in palatine for days, organs and muscles deteriorating. as if her vessels had never exploded. as if geta didn’t spend weeks mourning over her dead body, feeling her skin grow cold and nasty as she blistered.

he knows he should turn back. that he should slam the door closed and return to the ghostly apparition waiting in his room. but he finds himself creeping closer to her coffin, stretching out a hand to lay against the glass panel, feeling the chill of her tomb creep into his body.

and then he cannot stop.

he’s slamming the coffin door open, the embalmed body of his sister falling into his arms as he sinks to the stone floor, holding her body close.

he cries like a baby into pale skin, tangling his hands in the familiar curls of his sister’s hair. he knows deep down, that it’s not truly her body, a mess of wax and embalmed organs lying in his grasp, the remnants of her hair blended in with hair that didn’t belong to her. he knows that it’s the body from her mourning, not the decomposing mess they had removed from palatine.

but he seeks out comfort from it nonetheless.

in the morning he will be found, clutching her close, wrists sluggishly bleeding as his body is removed from her tomb, freshly deceased. weeks later, he will be entombed in the same tomb, forever next to his sister.

-

caracalla is left by himself.

there is no one for him to lean on, no comfort to be found in the sprawling halls of palatine as he mourns the loss of his older brother and younger sister. the weight of rome rests upon his shoulders now, cruel and demanding as he plans for geta’s mourning, for his brother’s embalming.

enemies have begun to press into rome, hearing whispers of the back to back loss of the empire. riots break throughout the streets, the people angry with the lack of consideration, with the lack of support and leadership. but caracalla cannot bring himself to face the masses of people, selfishly wishing that he could still hide behind geta’s demanding attitude. to be safe behind his brother’s iron throne and his sister’s popularity with their people.

hallucinations haunt him at night, twisting his preexisting sickness into something crueler.

terror seeps into his bones at all hours of the day, his heart forever seized in terror as he waits for his inevitable return to his siblings. every creak and whisper of wind within palatine sends him into a fit of terror, hiding underneath geta’s bed like a small child, curled around the linens that used to comfort his brother.

it’s with one clamber of a sword that caracalla is sent over the edge.

his body grows heavy with something he cannot explain, head spinning wildly as he curls into the linens deeper, terror spreading through his chest. he can do nothing but grasp the linens tighter as his body grows heavy, the world spinning as the pain in his body grows deeper.

in the morning, the praetorian guard will find him seemingly asleep underneath geta’s bed. the physicians will whisper about a broken heart and stress as he’s carried off to the temple, body being placed upon the same bier that held his brother and sister. caracalla will join them in the tomb, placed on the other side of his sister.

maybe in another life, they are not emperors and empresses, instead they will be small children once more, unburdened by power. every life they will find each other once more, together even in death as they’re reunited again and again. in some lives, they will be siblings, in others they will be classmates or soldiers in a war. in some they will be born to royalty once more, facing the same tragic fate of sudden death. in every life, their sister dies first and they follow suit, forever chasing her through time.

-

but i stay silly! *←said in the most world-weary voice you ever did hear*

Happy International Asexuality Day!!! 🖤🩶🤍💜